Nowhere Else to Go

Chapter 4

Harry had been sitting alone in his kitchen, shirtless. He stirred a bit of his tea before taking a sip. He heard a knock at the door. He glanced up at the clock. It was quite a questionable hour to be receiving an unannounced visitor. He frowned and set down his tea, spilling a bit onto the counter as he stood. He swiftly pulled on a shirt before opening the door.

"Malfoy?" he asked, a bit taken aback by the sudden sight before him. He could hardly make out his expression since it was so damn dark out, but he did notice Draco's refusal to look him in the eye.

"I... I had nowhere else to go"

Harry didn't know what to say. Draco Malfoy, the same Draco Malfoy he'd fucked just a month or so ago and who practically swore to never set foot near Harry again, was standing before him in the dead of night. He silently stepped aside, allowing Draco to walk past him into his place. Once Draco stepped into the light, Harry could see just how horribly he was beat up. Dried blood ran down under his nose, and fucking hell that bruise on his eye would only get worse. "The hell happened to you?" he asked, reaching out to touch his face but he was greeted with a grimace as Draco swatted his hand away.

"Shove off, Potter" he muttered. Harry looked at him, astounded. Only Draco Malfoy would have the audacity to show up at his house, beat up and bloody, and still manage to be an arse. Honestly it was the most Malfoy thing ever. He let out a soft sigh and leaned back against the counter, picking up his tea. He took it that Draco didn't feel like talking. He could tell that much at least. Besides, Draco was never much of a talker, mostly when it came to real shit. He sighed and calmed himself, desperately trying not to fight back. What Draco clearly needed was a good night's rest and a meal or two. He'd try to speak with him in the morning. He set his tea down after a few sips, watching Draco standing and facing away from him. He could see him visibly shaking but chose not to note that.

"Come with me" he said, walking past Draco expecting him to follow.

Draco was taken to a comfortable sized guest room. It was practically the size of the entirety of his old apartment actually. He watched Harry set out some sweatpants and a soft shirt, as well as a few extra blankets since Draco was still shivering. He was only half listening when Harry gave him the directions to the bathroom. He muttered a barely audible "thank you," but he doubted Harry could even hear it. He heard the door swing shut and let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes. He was thankful Harry didn't pry. He wouldn't have been able to handle that tonight. He had nothing on him. Absolutely nothing but the clothes on his body.

He picked up the clean clothes Harry had left him and waited to be sure he was gone to his room before slipping out of the guest room silently, making his way to the bathroom. He wandered around a bit, not thinking quite straight before he finally found it. He was still in an astounding amount of pain. Sure, he'd been through worse. But every step was agony. He ran the shower water and let out a shaky sigh. He pulled off his shirt and pants and finally got a good look at the damage. The beginnings of bruises littered his body. He had a pretty horrible scratch from being thrown against the wall on his back that burned to the touch. And his face looked absolutely horrible.

He stepped into the warm shower water and winced as it traveled down his back. He let out a breath and closed the curtain behind him, letting the water wash over him. Despite the pain, it was a much needed shower. The excess dried blood was washed off of his face and body, leaving only the sources of the cuts visible. He refrained from pressing too hard on his bruises as he washed his torso, and after a few minutes, he ended up leaning against the shower wall, holding himself up with one arm, just breathing for a while.

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Draco dried off and put on the clothes Harry had left for him. The shirt was nice. Clean, and soft too. The pants were slightly big around his waist but he just tugged the strings tight so they wouldn't fall off. He hadn't felt this clean in weeks. He let out a soft sigh and refused to look at himself in the mirror. He'd just see his ugly scars and bruises, not to mention his fucked up face from the beating tonight. He couldn't bear to look at himself. He hung his towel back up and silently opened the door, shutting off the light and very slowly walking back to his room. He didn't want to make a sound, in case Harry would come out and run into him.

He slipped into his room and shut the door quietly, going back to his bed and laying down, tugging the blankets over himself. Fuck it was warm. It was nice. He could actually stretch out, not get a cramp in his neck from being shoved into the back of his car. Of course, he did curl up a bit and hug himself gently. He wasn't relaxed enough to stretch out and rest. He wasn't sure he'd ever be. He turned off the lamp beside him and let out a shaky sigh.

He hated the dark. He hated feeling completely and utterly alone. Being in Harry's home helped. It helped that there was another person in the general vicinity; one that wasn't trying to beat him up or have him killed. Still, he was unsettled. He ached from the loss of his stuffed animal. Gone along with his car. He had nothing to hold close to his chest, to soothe him at least a little. He settled on a pillow, just hugging it gently and hiding his face in it, letting a few tears fall into it. He was stressed, overthinking, anxious, and overall just hurt. Hurt that he was so alone. That he had nobody, and nowhere, and nothing. He silently cried himself to sleep, far too mentally and physically exhausted to be awake.