Promises Kept, Hearts Full of Trust

2

Draco sat shirtless on the low bathroom vanity, his hands gripping the edge.

As he had expected, two recently healed wounds, one running across his chest and the other across his ribs, had reopened due to the impact of Apparation.

With steady hands, I approached his chest with a warm, wet washcloth, my expression radiating both determination and tenderness as I stood positioned between his man-spreading legs.

His breath hitched as the washcloth made contact with the sensitive skin, his abdomen flexing involuntarily.

"Sorry," I murmured, my voice filled with sympathy as I glanced up at him. "I'm as gentle as I can."

His eyes met mine. "I know you are," he replied, his tone appreciative.

I moved slightly closer to him, tending to his wounds with great care. Meanwhile, my other hand absentmindedly rested on his waist, causing goosebumps to form on his skin.

When the last traces of dried blood were wiped away from the gash on his chest, I moved away and reached for the second washcloth.

While I turned the tap on and wet the washcloth, I gazed at Draco.

With a sad expression, he was looking down at his torso.

His scars.

I never missed a chance to assure him of his enduring beauty and handsomeness, despite the marks that adorned his skin. Yet, I understood it was a struggle deeply rooted in his mind. His skin had once been flawless, devoid of any imperfections, and the sudden transformation from that pristine canvas to one marred by substantial scars had taken him by surprise. The contrast was undeniably stark. For me too.

Suddenly, my eye caught a movement on his left forearm at the same time I saw the knuckles from his left hand turning white.

It was his Dark Mark, the snake writhing.

"What's happening?" I asked urgently, closing the tap and wrenching out the washcloth.

"The Dark Lord...he's demanding all of us to be there," he said, a tremor in his voice. "He's holding some sort of celebration...for Dumbledore's death."

Approaching him, I gently reached out and caressed his right arm with my fingertips, all the while keeping my gaze fixed on him.

Once I could tell by his expression that the burning sensation from his Dark Mark was over, I softly placed the warm cloth against the wound on his ribs, careful not to cause him any unnecessary pain.

As I continued to clean the wound, I got lost in my thoughts. It took me a moment to realise that Draco's hand had found its way to my lower back, with the ends of my hair brushing over his skin.

Slowly, his hand slid under the hem of my black satin top, his cold touch moving further until it hooked around my hip.

I inched closer to him, my thigh pressing against his as his thumb gently traced the curve of my hip.

Draco lowered his head, resting it on my shoulder, his warm breath grazing my neck.

A contented sigh sounded from my lips as I tilted my head gently against his, our cheeks brushing against each other.

"I wish I could take away your pain," I whispered, softly.

He gave my hip a tender squeeze, murmuring. "You already do."

I smiled, a warmth spreading in my chest as I gently placed my left hand on the nape of his neck, running my fingers through his silky hair.

His head felt heavy on my shoulder, and his breathing began to slow down, indicating a growing sense of relaxation and comfort.