Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Malfoy? Again?

Harry was sitting in his 1999 Volvo S70 with a styrofoam box balancing precariously in one hand while his other hand grasped at a sandwich firmly, trying to keep all of its contents put together while he raised it to his mouth.

Malfoy had not answered him every single time that he came knocking on the door, which was at least every few days. Harry figured it was pretty safe to assume that he hasn't left his flat at all since the news of Astoria was broken to him, especially because every time he came knocking, There was always some sound or other, clattering plates, a running vacuum, etc, that indicated he was home and simply ignoring Harry.

Harry tried to ignore how much that bothered him. He also tried to ignore how long Malfoy might be planning to go all cooped up. His flat didn't exactly look like the most homely place, last Harry saw. But he couldn't judge him, either. At least Malfoy doesn't have a leaning tower of paperwork and empty takeout boxes on a desk like Harry did. At least, Harry hadn't seen one.

Harry had gotten into the habit of leaving the building and just sitting outside the complex in his car to watch the front door once he heard sounds that indicated Malfoy was alive and in there. If Harry didn't hear anything on the other side of the door, he wouldn't go to sit in his car. Luckily, though, that was happening less and less, so Harry could sit with his music and his sandwich comfortably most days.

Harry and Ron had both gotten the invitation from Daphne to attend Astoria's funeral. "As a thank you for finding and attending to her." Ron was not shy in voicing his opinion about it.

"How could she be thanking us? We had to get the news over to French Aurors who could find her and tell her that her younger sister was murdered."

"Most Aurors wouldn't have bothered to contact the French Aurors, though. They would have just left it to the nearest person they knew around here," I countered. Mordecai shook his head.

"Thank God I took a sick day when you two went to that scene, I don't think I'd be able to go to a funeral where I found the body. At the same time, how do you decline something like that?"

Ron bowed his head. "Dunno."

"I'm going."

They both looked up at Harry when he'd said it, some parts confused and some parts unsurprised.

"Let me guess," began Ron. "You want to check on Malfoy."

Harry scoffed. "For all I know, the git isn't even going. He's been locked up in his flat every day anyways-". Harry stopped abruptly, realizing he'd just revealed to Ron and Mordecai his not-so-ethical afternoon activities. Ron looked up at him, his face slowly falling from an expression of confusion to incredulity.

"Oh... Oh, no. Harry, mate." Ron huffed, pursing his lips and changing his position from standing to sitting on top of the desk behind him, turning away and murmuring something along the lines of "if Hermione heard this..."

"What?" Harry couldn't help but defend himself. It was life or death, for Merlin's sake! Malfoy needed some sort of protection. Supervision, at the very least. Harry would give anything to stop from having to see another body.

"You're stalking Malfoy? Again?"

"What? No! I'm not- stalking him," But Harry stumbled over his statement. If he wasn't stalking Malfoy, what was he doing? Visiting him almost every day and not leaving until hours later even after Malfoy didn't answer the door? Harry knew how bad it sounded. Ron huffed again, slapping his lap and shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Kingsley would have your head if he knew."

"You aren't going to tell him, right?"

"No, are you mad?" Harry glanced at Mordecai, who simply raised his hands in surrender and shook his head.