Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Lucius Malfoy

Sometimes, memories of the pain come back to him- phantoms of his suffering. It starts off as a dull, uneasy feeling. Starting in the deepest crevices of whatever scar has decided to make itself known at the moment, and it creeps its way outward until Draco feels as though he's been carved open all over again.

"Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you... Do you recognize that one, Draco Malfoy? This is your judgment returning to you, Draco Malfoy. The same way you wished death upon others, the lord now wishes you dead-"

Draco was shaking, remembering how he was constricted until he felt bones shatter, remembering the feeling of the blade cold against his warm skin.

It had been one week since Potter left him with a new auror and Draco successfully managed to only see or hear from him twice a day. And most times Draco ignored him. Every time that The New Auror tried and failed to open the bedroom door, Draco found himself overcome by this aching and urgent need to make sure that the door was locked all over again. He'd developed a ritual for it. Lock the door ten times, cast two locking spells over the door, and attempt to pry it open four times. That's how he knows the door is safe. Thankfully, The New Auror hadn't bothered him in four hours, so Draco hadn't needed to try locking the door for a while.

In the past week, Draco's sleep had declined sharply. He had been struggling to sleep before, but now he was lucky to get four hours in a night. He would often switch between thinking about all that had happened and fearing that he would be found, that he would be attacked and killed.

Draco hated feeling so helpless. He was scared, alone, and vulnerable. He felt like he had during the war again, except with one major difference. During the war, he could force himself into believing that he had some sort of control, that he was making his own choices, that he was doing what he needed... Now, he felt like he was at the mercy of whoever was out there, and he was scraping at the slightest bit of control that he could exert over his situation. He needed something just so he could feel like he wasn't being tossed around by the wind.

His bedroom was spotless the majority of the time, and since having been avoiding The New Auror (and by a consequence, the entire rest of his flat), he found himself looking for new distractions from his racing thoughts often.

At first, he tried reading, but his mind kept wandering. He tried to meditate, but his thoughts kept racing. He tried to exercise, but his muscles felt weak. He was trapped in his room and in his mind, unable to escape.

Then, there was a knock on the door. Draco froze, his heart racing. He knew he had locked the door, but what if someone had managed to get in? He reached for his wand, ready to defend himself if necessary.

"Draco?" It was Potter's voice. Relief flooded through Draco's veins at the sound of that voice. He didn't understand why it was so much more comforting to know that Potter was back, and that The New Auror would finally be going away. Possibly because as much as I hate him, I know he is the most capable of protecting me, a voice piped up in his head.

Draco hesitated before unlocking the door. The moment it opened, he was greeted by Potter standing there, looking sleep deprived and unkempt.

Draco was wary. Potter did not speak. "I thought you didn't want to watch me anymore, wanted to... 'change the terms of my witness protection'. What happened?"

Harry bit his lip, suddenly looking pained.

"I- I did, but... after careful consideration, I have determined that it is best I continue to protect you in your home."