Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Fairy Lights

Happy Sunday, friends! You... might get mad at me for this one.... Sorry? (I am not sorry in the slightest)

Please, let me know what y'all think, and, as always..

Enjoy!

Harry realized rather abruptly that, at half-past noon, neither he nor Draco had eaten anything at all through to this moment. He hated missing meals. It was wholly unavoidable and extremely unhealthy. He'd managed to pay attention to all of his hunger cues since the war, eating when he was hungry regardless of the circumstance. Draco went to boil the kettle while Harry looked to see what food he could prepare quickly, so they could eat soon. Harry's thoughts strayed as he scanned the pantry. The sight of Draco bleeding was not unfamiliar to him, and Harry was finding that fact to be deeply unsettling. A part of him was aching to hold the other man. He never wanted to see him bleed again.

"How did you know to come into my room?" Draco's voice startled him out of his reverie.

"Oh. Uh, the charm," Harry rescinded, his brows furrowed and he bit his lip with worry. He tried to stop thinking about earlier, instead focusing on the food.

"What charm?"

"It's, er... standard, for protection detail in the auror department. The person being protected has a charm connecting them to their assigned auror's wand. It tells me if you're hurt. Helps me know to check on you."

"I didn't know about that."

"Oh. Sorry. It was in the official paperwork, the offer letters we kept sending you, before you were attacked..."

"Oh." Draco's gaze was distant, coated with a sheen of some emotion Harry couldn't quite place. Harry frowned, more aware of his heartbeat than he should be.

"I was worried that perhaps you... But then I realized that you couldn't have been taken. So, I decided to go into your room."

"How did you-"

"Just about the strongest unlocking charm I could muster."

"Oh."

The silence that fell between them was tense, and it made Harry slightly uncomfortable. It was an odd situation, and one that he had never faced before. His chest hurt every time he thought about it. He watched as Draco's gaze fell to the front door. Neither of them said anything about it.

Harry had long realized that he cared about Draco more than was strictly allowed, and had more recently realized that his care and curiosity had evolved into something entirely unprofessional. He figured that, as long as nobody knew, though, he would be fine. He wasn't the lead on the case, anyway. Ron was, and, Harry surmised, caring about Draco only meant he would do his own job with more fervour. So what was the harm? Harry noted when Draco moved from the kitchen to the front of the flat, checking the door for several moments, and going back to the kitchen. He grabbed a kettle to fill it with water, then he put it on the range.

It was moments like this where Harry was acutely aware that he was, indeed, not the lead on the case. Harry felt helpless when it came to Draco, unable to think of what was right or wrong to say or do, unsure of what his boundaries were. All he knew was that he wanted, so badly that it hurt, to be able to treat Draco as a partner, to help him through his problems and comfort him and hold him and...

Harry needed to stop his train of thought before it became a problem.

Harry grabbed some bread and found beans in the pantry. Simple, and fast. Perfect.