Scars of the Past | A Drarry Story | A Mattheo Riddle Story

Chapter 30

Previously on Scars Of The Past-
And as the stars painted the night sky, Harry would retire to his room, the softness of the bed and the arms of a particular blond ferret cocooning him in comfort. Sleep would come quickly, dreams carrying him into a world where acceptance and love were constants. Harry was relieved when he had not gotten a night terror the first night, he had fallen asleep in Draco's room, using him as a pillow. Draco's silk shirt was a fantastic pillowcase. Somehow, the buttons weren't uncomfortable either. He was sure that Draco had charmed them so. The particular blond ferret had proved to be quite moody that night, grumbling about his parents stealing his mate. Harry had chuckled at that. It had turned into a tradition since then; Draco told Harry how angry he was at his parents for stealing Harry from him. It was meant as a joke though. Draco loved his parents. Harry could see it in his eyes.

Sleepovers with Mattheo and Dahlia were the best days he had lived through. These sleepovers often featured comically bad karaoke sessions that transformed well-known songs into something entirely unrecognizable. To everyone's surprise, Draco Lucius Malfoy revealed an unexpected talent for singing fluently in French, while Mattheo Riddle, the son of the Dark Lord, possessed a deep and seductive voice that could make knees go weak. Unfortunately, Harry and Dahlia sounded more like croaking frogs when they attempted to sing.

The universe, it seemed, had its own sense of balance. While Mattheo and Draco excelled at singing, they struggled with creative activities like making friendship bracelets or pottery. Dahlia, on the other hand, could craft exquisite teapots from a lump of clay, and Harry eventually got the hang of it, his surname, Potter, perhaps offering some artistic inclination. Draco's best friend seemed to be Dahlia if the night came to fashion shows in Pajamas. Draco completely slayed a ramp walk in heels looking like the fabulous diva he is. Mattheo seemed to fall on his face every time he tried standing up in those 6-inch devils; claiming that they should be banned from existence. Ice cream; all of them have collectively decided was the best midnight snack that existed. The night always ended with a pillow fight.

After one such night as this, sleeping sandwiched between Dahlia and Draco; Harry lay awake thinking. 'I love my life' he thought and unknowingly like always, jinxed it.

Harry woke up to find his stomach caught in a relentless struggle, a ceaseless tug-of-war between twisting and turning muscles of his abdomen and the burn he felt on his skin. He wanted – no – he needed someone to touch him. He needed Draco. His eyes snapped open in horror as he realized what his body wanted. His creature wanted to be touched; wanted to be held; wanted to be loved but his mind had a death grip on his past memories. His mind refused to let those torturous memories go. The pain of this internal battle was so profound, so acute, that it manifested physically, causing his eyes to well up with tears of frustration and turmoil. The weight of his heart's desires clashed violently against the stark realism of his mind's warnings, creating a storm that left him breathless, torn, and lost in the tumultuous sea of his own feelings.

Draco entered the room with the intention of waking Harry up and calling him down for breakfast but he immediately panicked when he noticed Harry in tears, which sent a wave of panic coursing through him. However, as he approached and took a closer look, he began to realize what was happening. Harry was in the midst of his heat cycle. With a deep breath to steady himself, Draco gently approached Harry, concern replacing his initial panic.

"Harry," Draco started softly, "I think I know what's going on. You're in heat."

Harry's tear-filled eyes met Draco's, and he nodded, his embarrassment evident.