Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

One More Case... Right?

A/N: Hello fantastic readers! I apologize for the delay in publishing, I recently had an extremely busy week at my university and that coupled with other life events prevented me from publishing on the previous set date. 

I hope you all are liking the story so far! Please let me know what you all think, and I hope you enjoy!

After two hours of sitting outside his door, Harry thought he would be let in.

After four hours of waiting at his door, Harry thought he would have to sleep right where he sat.

It was at the five-hour mark that Malfoy swung the door open and stared, waiting silently for Harry to scramble back to his feet. They shared a rather tense eye contact for several moments before Malfoy allowed him entry.

"You sleep on the couch," he said, then he locked the door behind Harry and went to the kitchen. Harry followed silently, wondering what he was up to.

"I thought I said you belong on the couch."

"I'm not a dog, Malfoy. Besides, I plan to sleep on the couch. That doesn't mean I'm confined to its space for the rest of my time here." Harry watched as Malfoy put a kettle full of water to boil. Malfoy kept glancing over his shoulder as he made the tea, putting Harry on edge. He huffed, walking away and getting to work setting up wards around the flat.

Simple locking charms ought to do it, as well as several different detection charms that would alert them to any possible intruders. Then, a few privacy charms, to prevent anyone from watching through the windows. All in all, it took Harry as long as it took Malfoy to finish brewing his tea to activate the charms.

Malfoy came out of the kitchen with his singular cup in hand, and Harry knew he shouldn't be surprised that Malfoy didn't think to offer him any, but it still irritated him all the same. He decided to ignore him now, instead moving to set up the couch.

Harry had to admit the flat was spotless. Almost to the point where he was nervous to touch anything. He wondered briefly if that was what Malfoy was doing in the five hours that he'd been banished to the corridor. Then, he wondered why Malfoy would kick him out just so he could clean.

Soon he had transfigured the couch cushions into pillows and a blanket, which he did not initially see anywhere and was in no mood to ask Malfoy for. He pretended not to notice how Malfoy went with his cup of tea back to the front door to make sure it was locked and proceed to try forcing it open, then checking the lock again, and trying to force it open again. Then, he cast a locking charm over it. It seemed Malfoy had the special talent of insulting Harry even without speaking. That's one way to doubt whether I'm doing my job, prick.

Seconds later, the door to the bedroom slammed, and Harry could faintly make out the sound of the lock clicking multiple times, along with several quite brutal attempts to force the door open. Arsehole.

Harry watched the night roll through as he lay in his little makeshift bed, staring at the ceiling. Now that the flat was empty and he wasn't being bothered by Malfoy's incessant jibes, his mind could begin to properly sort through all that had happened in the last week.

Malfoy could have died... Draco could have died. He didn't deserve that no matter how much of a prick he was being.

Then, Harry supposed, he himself would be particularly shaken after such an event, too. Maybe now isn't the best time to be judging Mal- Draco. Not after something so horrendous.

Harry mentally recapped the bits of memory he had watched already, trying to gauge if he might have missed something important, trying to see if, perhaps, he could recognize the monster that had done this.

God's Wrath, he called himself. God sent me to deliver justice.

God only forgives those who repent.

A sound made Harry dart up from his position on the couch. His wand was out in an instant, the tip of his wand lighting up without the need for an incantation. He looked around the empty room, scanning for the source of the noise.

It came again and Harry whipped his head around behind him. The noise continued, and Harry quickly realized it was the sound of Malfoy's bedroom door. The prick was actually fiddling with the lock again. Harry narrowed his eyes, stepping quietly towards the door. As soon as he got close enough, he let his Lumos go out. From the other side, Malfoy could be heard fiddling with his lock multiple times.

Harry frowned, this was far too much to be any silent insult of his. He wondered if Malfoy was scared he might be followed and found, if his assailant would finish him off in his own home-

Well, that's what Harry was there for, wasn't it?

He wondered if he should reassure him, and he was about to before the fiddling stopped. So close to the door, Harry could feel the wave of the locking charm that Malfoy had just placed over it. Harry exhaled, shoving thoughts of what Draco could possibly be up to in his mind firmly away and dragging back to the couch, wand in hand.

Harry took this time to look around the small flat for the first time, to really look at it. Draco had the place infuriatingly spotless. Harry felt awkward and out of place being in it, having his mess of blankets and pillows over the couch while the rest of the room, hell, the rest of the flat looked like it was ripped out of a magazine. Harry didn't remember the last time he had cleaned his flat. He just didn't have the time between hating the public, wanting to quit his job and tracking down a gruesome murderer. Well, that and trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do with life. If he wasn't happy with his job, no matter how important, and he didn't have a world in need of saving anymore, what else was there, really? Charity balls and political endorsements? Harry didn't want to think about that.

At least his job gave him a few things, really, the only things that allowed him to wait so long to quit in the first place. He was salaried, meaning he could work as long as he needed or wanted to, and, now, he got to occupy his mind with work and nothing else. "I'm sorry, 'Mione, I can't go to dinner, I have to watch Malfoy now.' and 'No, Ginny, I can't think about trying to fix things just yet, this case is really tiring, and we also just discovered that Malfoy wasn't really killed.'

And it's not like Harry was lying... maybe he was taking advantage of convenient excuses, but this case is important, anyway, and Draco's protection is his job right now. He's basically living in this case. And every time Harry remembered that he would likely miss the charity gala that was now held annually in honour of his parents, who he was certain would have thought such an event a total load of rubbish and a convoluted play for political favours, he was more than happy to take up the offer of diving head-first into this, now supremely complicated, case.

Just one more case, anyhow... right?

Harry sighed, turning to lie on his side. The flat was almost painfully silent. He wondered just how long it would take for somebody to go mad holed up in here, refusing to leave...

How was Draco feeling, after all of this? What is he thinking?

Who was supposed to watch him if another body got found?

Harry got the answer to that question precisely two weeks later when Ron's Terrier flew in through the flat late at night and told him to meet him at the Ministry in less than five minutes.