Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

God's Plan

A/N: Due to complications regarding a recent surgery, the first 5 or so chapters will not be updated with any regularity. As soon as I am able, we will adopt a once-a-week publishing schedule every Sunday. 

If it were possible for his stomach to drop out from under him, Draco was positive it felt a bit like this. Potter and Weasley were watching him carefully, scanning for any possible reactions. And Draco supposed maybe he should react. Cry, scream, curse them, accuse them of lying, kick them out, break something... but it seemed he only had the power to sit frozen. As if he wasn't just told that the woman he was rapidly falling in love with was ripped from his grasp.

"...Malfoy?"

Draco blinked. "Yes?"

Potter took in a breath. "We have reason to believe that you two were close. You were also the only person we could get a hold of."

Potter's voice was muddled a bit, and Draco could have sworn he didn't understand a word out of his mouth. Draco felt suddenly too dehydrated to respond, yet somehow, he did.

"Your assumptions are not incorrect, however, I'm sure you are aware that she has a sister..."

"Daphne is, for all intents and purposes, missing. We've reason to believe she fled after the war," replied Weasley.

"Listen, Malfoy- Draco. You're the only person she has any relation to that's alive and available," said Potter. "If you don't mind, we would like to go over the cause of death."

Leave it to Potter to be as insensitive as possible. And think that changing 'Malfoy' to 'Draco' softens the blow any. At least it wasn't Potter who decided to open the file in his face, revealing a body that looked to have been burned by chemicals, chained to the floor, and with large gashes along her- completely naked- torso. There was a ring of what could only be described as her blood surrounding her.

Draco couldn't look away.

Her left forearm had one particularly long slash down it, and it was hissing bloody murder in Draco's brain. The mass of flesh that had been reduced to pink, raw, glossy, and marred stretched across her face and neck, centered at the eyes. She also had a gash across her lower stomach, so deep it exposed her innards. The bile was crawling up Draco's throat with increasing speed and he was suddenly seized by the aching need to look away, yet he was simply too shocked to move. Potter was the one who closed the file.

"He didn't need to see that, Ron."

"It's been procedure to show them."

"Ron..." Potter turned back to Draco. "She was murdered. Quite... gruesomely, as well. She's the latest of several who have been found as of late- I'm sure you read about Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle? In the Daily Prophet?"

He had. And he cried about it when he'd heard. Astoria comforted him every time he would lose his wits and think about it again. Absently he wondered who would hold him and stroke his hair saying that it would all be okay now that she was gone. Could her ghost come back to comfort him over her own death? What would the pastor say? That it's all part of God's plan?

"The biggest thread we've found between all of these murders is that they were all former Death Eaters. And they all had close relations with you."

God's plan seemed to be causing Draco as much suffering as possible. Penance for his part in the war.

"Because of this, we are here to offer you protection. We have reason to believe you are a target of this man. You would have one Auror with you at all times, to keep you safe." Potter pulled out a different file. One that made Draco's stomach turn a lot less than the previous. It was just a lot of writing on paper. That, he could deal with.

"Agreeing to this would place one in your home. And if you opposed those arrangements we would organize a living accommodation for you and the Auror assigned. Regardless of your chosen arrangement, any costs of living, such as food and water, would be compensated for by The Ministry. All you need to do is sign here, and first thing tomorrow, everything will be set."

It seemed the Sahara Desert had recently made residence in Draco's mouth. He swallowed in an attempt to get his tongue and mouth working again. After all, Potter and Weasley were waiting for his response.

"But... you don't know for sure if there really is somebody after me."

"We have reasonable suspicion that somebody is," began Ron.

"We implore you to take this offer." But you don't need to right now. We can't force you to choose right now, Harry almost said. But something inside of him told him not to. It's an offer for safety, damn it, and Malfoy should take it.

"I think I'll be fine," Draco said after what felt like a long, long time. His bones were settling weary, and he didn't know whether he wanted to go get sloshed or take a nap that lasted the rest of eternity. "Thank you, Aurors, but I'll pass." Draco did not want to live under somebody's shadow. He didn't want anybody near him at all, for that matter. Not right now.

"Are you sure, Mal- Draco... you might be in danger as we speak."

"I'm sure you won't have a hard time finding the door, Auror Potter." Draco had stood now, as had the other two.

"Malfoy," Draco was already pushing them towards the door by simply closing the distance between them.

"Listen. We're going to leave the forms here, okay?" Weasley put them down on the coffee table as he stepped back, bumping into Harry who was, stubbornly, not moving like Weasley was. "If you change your mind at any point, all you need to do is send it. We have you on a priority list along with others we suspect are in danger, so we'll get the Owl almost immediately, and your chosen arrangements will be set within 24 hours-"

"Yes, thank you, but I won't be needing them." The moment that they were over the threshold of the front door, Draco closed and locked it, turning to rest his back against the door and sighing.

The flat was silent. Too silent. Draco opened his eyes.

That bloody picture dares mock my loss... nostrils flaring, Draco stomped up to the opposite wall, taking the framed Prophet photo from the wall and tearing it off.

Astoria was so beautiful, Draco thought. That night was when she told him that she was happy for the first time in a long time, with him. And Draco had responded by giving her a kiss, and holding her tenderly.

The glass shattered when the frame hit the floor on the other side of his small, dreary flat. Draco's chest was heaving, now, and his breaths stuttered as tears sprung to his eyes. Draco was crouching on the floor, now. He didn't know when he'd done that, but he had, and he was hugging his knees to his chest as pained sobs escaped him.