healing | drarry

forty-nine

~no pov

"What happened earlier?"

"Way to beat around the bush."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be." Draco said simply. "There's nothing to be worried about. I've never been like that before."

What a fucking lie.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it."

Harry winced. "Why? What caused you to do that?"

"Bad day." He said simply.

"Is there a reason why or was it just an off day?" 

Draco groaned and put his head in his hands. "Look, Potter, I'm really grateful for you cleaning the place and, you know, but I don't want to talk about it. If you think you deserve some sort of explanation, I'm sorry, but you're not getting one."

"But why? What is there to tell that's so terrifying to talk about? What is going on with you, Draco, because you are lying when you say something like that has never happened before. I know there is stuff you keep to yourself, but why? Talking about it and letting people in helps. I promise you it helps."

"I talk about my issues with people. I don't need to talk about them with you."

Harry sighed. "But you can. If you ever want to talk about it with me, you can. Just, please don't shut me out after this. I know you probably hate that I found you, but I'm not judging. I'll be here if you need. Just promise not to shut me out. I like where we've gotten."

"I like where we're at too." But I want more. I want you to love me.

"So you won't shut me out?"

"I won't." 

"Let's make dinner, shall we?"

Draco smiled, because cooking with Harry was one of his favourite things. Making food for someone felt intimate, but making food with someone felt even more intimate. It felt special.

In the time they had spent together after they met again, they bonded most over cooking. Even if Draco stepped out every time Harry put the gas on to actually cook the food. But when they cooked at Draco's, they spent the full time cooking together and it felt beautiful.

Harry was beautiful.

Draco loved that about him.

It was the next morning when everything went horribly wrong. 

The kids were sleeping peacefully, enjoying the last day of sleeping in on the weekend. They wouldn't be at school for the next two weeks and were absolutely going to take advantage of it. The two boys planned sleepovers for the majority of the Easter Holiday and playdates too.

Their parents had woken up early, as usual and they were cooking breakfast in a quiet but peaceful silence. It seemed like nothing had happened the night before and nothing had changed. Everything was well.

Then Harry tripped up and spilled the omelette batter all over Draco.

"What the actual fuck?!" Draco screamed. There was batter on his beautiful silk pyjama shirt. "You're an idiot and I'm going to kill you."

"It was an accident. Washing machines exist." 

"Great apology."

"I could fix that in literal seconds." Harry muttered under his breath, going back to the counter to remake the omelette batter.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Draco scoffed. "That's what I thought. If you'll excuse me, I have to go change my shirt."

"You were in pyjamas anyway. You were going to get dressed regardless." 

Draco glared at the brunet, who stayed silent. Harry was slightly terrified, as if he hadn't won fights against Voldemort on multiple occasions and eventually killed him.

The man left to change, and as he did, Harry ended up spilling batter on himself too. He was completely unaware of how he'd done so and laughed as he walked over to Draco's room.

"Hey, can I borrow a shirt too, I-"

Draco was shirtless. 

Draco was shirtless and his entire chest was scarred and the Dark Mark was too. His forearm was marred with angry red lines, and his chest was covered in raised lines, passing through his arms diagonally to his chest and trailing up his neck. It was like someone wrapped a snake around his torso and neck, and the snake's skin was made of blades.

Harry did that to him.

"Get out." Draco shouted, covering his chest with the dirty shirt, his left arm pressed against the shirt to cover the Mark. "Get out, get out, get out."

omg tmh flashbacks...

"Draco-"

"Get out."

Harry unwillingly left, cursing under his breath when the door to Draco's bathroom opened and locked. He knew he could easily walk in and unlock the door with magic, but he felt frozen. He couldn't move.

There were scars and fresh cuts all over Draco's wrist. The wrist where the Dark Mark was. And it wasn't light- it was dark as ever, yet it was clear that the Mark had faded. The darkness made Harry feel sick, because even after death, Voldemort was haunting Draco.

And he took it out on himself.

It all made sense- the way Draco wouldn't ever wear short sleeves around anyone, his son and Harry specifically. The reason why Draco only wore turtleneck shirts was even clearer, despite Harry already knowing why. The scars from Sectumsempra were awful. 

Even after surviving the curse, Draco was being haunted by it. Harry didn't know how the blond ever looked at him the same, without being reminded of the scars. Was he reminded of the scars every time Harry was near him?

Harry had only seen Draco shirtless for a few seconds, but in the moment it felt like eternity for both of them and Harry wouldn't ever forget what he saw. He didn't care that the blond had a beautiful body, muscles to die for. All he cared about were the scars.

And there were so many.

"It's only one scar, the one you can see."

Draco hated the Mark; the darkness of it made the hatred visible. He didn't want it. He didn't lie when he said he didn't want it.

"I don't like the Mark, Potter. If I don't want to see it, I'm not going to let anyone else see it."

He didn't want anyone to see the scars either.

Harry felt his legs buckle beneath him, and he fell to the floor with his back pressed against the door. He wished he'd knocked, but at the same time, he was glad he saw. Because he was right about needing to help Draco.

And he would.