Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Soft, Fresh, Lemon-Blueberry Cake Bars

The next few days were fraught with tension and awkward silences between Draco and Harry. They often found themselves at a loss for how to interact with each other.

Draco found himself constantly on edge. Half the time, he was watching his back, resisting checking the doors and windows constantly with Potter around. The other half, he was cleaning in a frenzy in order to ignore any and all unsavoury thoughts that popped into his mind.

Then there were the mundane moments, like brewing tea, reading a book, and eating a meal. Those were the moments in which Draco and Potter would often find themselves taking turns attempting and failing to have any sort of conversation. Draco noticed that, without having a Potter to fight with, there was nothing to do whenever he was around him. He certainly didn't want to have another mental breakdown in front of him, and even less did he want to have anything resembling a heart-to-heart. Draco found himself withdrawing into himself, retreating into the safety of his room. It was a way to protect himself, and it had worked for the past few days. But now, it felt suffocating. He wanted out, wanted to be around people, wanted to feel alive again.

He wanted to return to church.

Unfortunately, now he was being babysat by Great Britain's most famous wizard, which meant he had to tell him that he was hoping to go to Sunday Mass in two days.

Potter insisted he accompanies him.

That night, he decided to try his hand at baking again. The recipe was something easy, something he had no chance of messing up. Soft, Fresh, Lemon Blueberry Cake Bars.

It was an extremely simple recipe built for even a beginner to accomplish, and, what appealed to Draco the most, the tremors in his fingers wouldn't affect the outcome of this dessert.

He was doing this. He was going to get back to trying to live a normal life, not hiding in his flat. And even if something happened, he would have Potter there with him. Everything was going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. He forced himself to believe it.

Sunday morning arrived and Draco felt the most anxious he'd ever felt to leave his flat. He spent an uncomfortable amount of time fixing his hair and clothing, and he nearly lost his appetite for breakfast over the thoughts that were racing through his head.

"Are you ready?" Potter opened the front door and waited for Draco to walk through. He was doing this. He was going to leave his flat. He was going to see the rest of the world for the first time in almost a month.

The first challenge Draco encountered was right outside his flat, locking the door. Potter closed and locked it behind the two of them, however, an itch came up in the back of Draco's mind. I need to lock the door.

Draco shook his head. The thought was ridiculous. There was nobody to be attacked in his flat. Why would he need to perform his locking ritual?

I am not safe if I don't lock the door.

Potter was about halfway down the first set of stairs when he noticed that Draco was stuck staring at his front door.

I will be attacked if I do not lock the door. I will die. I am putting myself in danger.

"What's wrong?"

Draco shook his head, refusing to meet Potter's gaze.

"I need to lock the door," Draco whispered, his voice shaking. He cursed himself for how menial it came out.

Potter frowned but didn't say anything. He simply reached into his pocket and retrieved the key he'd just used to hand it to Draco. Draco inserted it into the lock with his tremored fingers, then turned the key. One, two, three, four...