Nowhere Else to Go

Chapter 8

Harry cleared their plates and washed them off, walking back to Draco. He looked over his wounds and sighed softly. "Come on, I know you can walk, follow me" he said, picking up his wand and taking Draco into his bathroom. He motioned for him to sit on the counter, and Draco gave him a look.

"You don't have to heal me, Potter" he muttered, but he sat down on the counter anyways. He glanced down at Harry's wand and realized he'd be doing a healing spell. He felt his gut tighten and he looked down at his hands. He didn't want the pain to end yet. He felt like he deserved it, he deserved to suffer for a little while longer. He watched Harry raise his wand up to his cheek first, and he gently pushed the wand away before Harry had the chance to speak. "Really, you don't have to heal me." He repeated, more seriously this time. He gave Harry a look that said he really did mean it.

"Malfoy what are you on about? You've practically been beaten to the point of falling unconscious. You can't just let your body suffer" he said, slowly starting to understand as the words spilled from his mouth.

Draco looked back at him for a moment, watching the gears spinning in his head so he quickly cut off his train of thought "it's fine, just... don't use magic okay?" He asked, in hopes of it sounding like he had a problem with the magic part rather than the healing part. He couldn't tell if Harry was buying it, but he did feel a sense of relief when he put the wand down.

"Alright, I suppose that's fine" he said, opening the cabinet and pulling out a washcloth and some bandages. He dampened the washcloth with warm water and stepped closer to Draco and placed his free hand on the counter, just beside Draco's thigh. He began gently dabbing off the dried blood around his cut, much too fixated on his job to notice how close he was to Draco. Closer than he'd ever really been to him, aside from the night they met at the bar that is.

Draco looked down at Harry, watching his brows furrow ever so slightly in concentration as he moved from the cut to the bruise on Draco's eye, making sure it would heal properly. Draco's heartbeat quickened. Harry was close. Too close. He felt Harry shift down to begin tending to his split lip from the flight. At the very moment the gentle touch of the cloth reached his lower lip, he shoved Harry back and stood up. He felt like he was suffocating in the physical touch. It was so much, Harry was so close.

Harry looked back at him in a bit of shock, not having expected that reaction. He blinked a few times and set down the washcloth. "Is everything alright?" He asked, still trying to sort out what the hell he'd done wrong. His patience was beginning to run thin.

Draco picked up the washcloth and turned towards his own reflection. "I can do it myself, it's fine" he muttered, glancing at Harry, who was stood there with a very clear look of confusion and shock across his expression. "That means you can go" he said, giving Harry a bit of a bratty look.

Harry finally decided he would just never understand what was going on in that head of Draco's, and he let out a soft laugh. "Alright Malfoy, whatever you say." He shook his head and stepped out of the room, walking over to the couch and sitting down. He opened up his book to pick up where he'd left off, but he found himself glancing back across the room to the bathroom on more than one occasion.

Draco was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless now, and likely unaware of Harry's gaze. Draco had just finished tugging the bandages around his ribs, and he tore it from the roll with a soft sigh. He used the washcloth one more time to clean off his upper arm a bit, and he started on trying to wrap the bandages around that too.

Harry had entirely discarded his book, and he was fixated on watching Draco. His toned, yet fairly slim body caused Harry to lose sight of his surroundings entirely. His torso was littered with scars and wounds both old and new. He watched Draco hold the roll in his mouth, biting down on it as he used his free hand in an attempt to wrap his upper arm, which wasn't working out so well. Harry smirked a bit to himself and shook his head, standing up and walking back to him.

He didn't say a word as he took the bandages from Draco's mouth and gave him a look, to which he got an eye-roll in response. He gently brought Draco's arm to the side and he efficiently wrapped up the wound, making sure it was secure before looking back at Draco, who was red in the face. Likely embarrassed that Harry had been watching him struggle, but he found it cute that he was so worked up about it. It was evident that Draco needed to let go of a bit of his pride and allow himself to receive help every now and then, but it was near impossible for Draco to recognize that.

Harry let out a soft sigh and set the bandages down, handing Draco his shirt before leaving. It seemed like he was making progress with Draco, regarding the whole being past arch nemeses to now somehow sharing a home together for the time being, all while trying not to be at each others throats constantly.

Draco was left in the bathroom, his cheeks the shade of bubblegum. He could handle himself. He knew that. He didn't need Harry to come to his rescue and stand So. Damn. Close. He could still feel Harry's touch. It was so gentle, the way he carefully but quickly fixed up Draco's wounds. It was kind, but Merlin he really hated how Harry just had to come in with that damn savior complex and rescue him yet again. He felt awful for giving nothing in return. For his home, and his help. He wished he could at least return the favor, but he had nothing at all to offer. He washed off his hands and turned off the light, going upstairs to his room to attempt a decent rest.