Nowhere Else to Go

Chapter 5

TW for this chapter! Mentions of self-harm.

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"Such a weak fucking person. The fact that you're even standing before me disgusts me. You have hardly any right to be serving me..."

"...You're lucky I'm letting you live"

With the crack of a wand, pain jolted through Draco's body and he shot awake, panting softly and clutching his pillow close to his chest. His breathing was heavy and frantic. He looked around the room, attempting to ground himself, but his eyes found nothing familiar. The dark lord, despite being dead, lived on in his head. He was panicked, his breathing uneven and tears streaming down his cheeks.

It wasn't until his eyes locked on one of Harry's sweaters. It was an old one, one he had worn in maybe sixth year. He looked at it, clutching his pillow tight and whispering to himself. "Harry's house. In Harry's home, not back there. I'm here. Harry. Harry Potter" he muttered, still a bit shaky. He calmed his breathing and wiped his tears from his cheeks. He glanced down at his wrist and let out a sorrowful sigh.

His dark mark occasionally just filled him with dread and guilt. It spread from that damn spot on his wrist where the faded mark was, wrapping around his heart in and holding it in a chokehold. He hated it with such an overwhelming burning passion. It was hideous, really. Small risen scars were still visible across the mark. He wanted nothing to do with the damn thing. It was faded now, but still there. He finally brought his gaze up to the clock on the wall.

3:27 am.

He wasn't sure he could fall back asleep after his nightmare. He stayed awake for the rest of the night, filling the time with staring up at the ceiling, and occasionally sitting by the window. At around six in the morning, he let himself finally walk over to that sweater of Harry's. The one that had somehow filled him with enough memories to ground him again and calm him down. He brushed his hand over it before picking it up and letting out a soft sigh. Harry Potter. He thought about their stupid little rivalry in school, he thought about times it went a bit too far, and the moments when they were just making stupid remarks about one another.

He heard Harry's door open and set the jacket back down, hastily walking back to his bed. The hell was Harry doing up so early? He got back under the covers and sighed softly, settling on looking back up at that spot on the ceiling he'd occupied himself with for a few hours prior.

He heard the bathroom sink turn on and let out a soft sigh. Of course, Harry was just up to use the bathroom. Draco felt a rush of anxiety flow through him. He wanted nothing less than to face the awkward conversation that was bound to happen with Harry. He was surprised he hadn't been turned away from the start. He stayed in his bed, dreading the fact that he'd have to leave the room at some point.

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Harry had startled awake from yet another nightmare. His breathing heavy, heart pounding. He immediately glanced at the time.

5:58 am.

He got himself up and went to the bathroom, flicking on the light and turning on the water, splashing it onto his face. He slumped down against the bathroom door and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against his knees. Fuck. He had dealt with nightmares far too many times for his liking. He was starting to lose a lot of sleep over it. Whether is be about the war, or about his life with the Dursley's, it was always flashbacks. He was sick of it. He went down to his kitchen to make himself some tea and relax, maybe get some writing in for his novel. He let the water start to heat up and leaned back against the counter, letting out a breath as he tried to calm his nerves.

Once he was thinking clearly again, he remembered the events of last night. Draco showing up at his doorstep, bloodied and bruised. He wondered if Draco would even come out of his room anytime soon. He might need some encouragement; the boy seemed pretty shaken.

He poured himself some tea and sat down with his laptop, deciding to work on his book. Harry wrote for hours, on a very productive spree. He finally stopped typing when he heard a door creak open upstairs, He checked the time, which read 9:04. He figured Draco must be hungry.

Draco walked down the stairs and stood by the doorframe in the kitchen, looking at Harry for a moment. He hesitated, and considered turning back and staying behind the closed door of his room, but he finally spoke. "I'm sorry-" he started, but Harry interrupted him before he made a complete fool of himself.

"You seem to have gotten into quite the fight last night. Luckily your face isn't permanently disfigured, otherwise you'd have nothing at all going for you" he said with a small smirk, looking back at Draco. Harry could see that Draco had no clue what to do with the situation he was in, and he didn't seem like he wanted to explain himself just yet, which Harry didn't mind. Honestly, he just wanted to make things as easy as he could for Draco. He hummed softly and nodded towards the cabinet by the stove. "There's some food in there if you're hungry, I'll be over on the couch" he said, closing his laptop and walking over to rest on the couch a bit.

As Harry looked over Draco in the light, he could see that Draco was quite a mess. The bruise around his eye was getting worse, but the cut on his cheek was healing. His nose stopped bleeding too, which was good news. Not to mention his clearly sleep deprived state. He could only imagine what he looked like under his clothes. Must've been beat up pretty bad. Of course, he was curious, but Draco was never one to spill everything out on the table anyways. He figured it best not to ask.