Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Over and Over

A/N: Happy Sunday, Folks! Today is a shorter one, but I think it's neat.

What are y'all hoping comes out of the next few days for our main characters? Please, let me know what y'all think, and, as always...Enjoy!

Draco's mind was reeling.

He collapsed onto his bed face-first, knocking the air out of his lungs in the process. His whole body was electric with what almost happened, his face burning as the memory of Harry's breath ghosting across his lips ingrained itself into his skin.

That was almost...

No. It was real. Yet, at the same time, it wasn't.

He had to force himself to stop thinking about it. It's not true. It's a terrible yet intoxicating amalgamation of his loneliness and their isolated cohabitation. That's all. It's not real.

The fact that it would be a terrible idea in any circumstance didn't make the fact that it was actually happening sting any less.

Draco's heart was racing. If Potter wasn't going to keep his head about this, then Draco had to be the one to do it, no matter how much his body was currently screaming at him for having stopped it.

Draco groaned, rolling over onto his back. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then repeated the process a few times until he felt slightly calmer. His brain kept imagining what it would have been like if they'd actually kissed, or what it might be like if he marched out of his room, perhaps grabbing Harry by the shirt and-

No.

Draco shifted in bed, trying to make his pants comfortable again.

What is Harry thinking right now?

He was probably kicking himself, Draco thought, since he had jerked back as if stunned, leaving Harry confused and apologetic. Draco sighed, pressing his palms to his face. The last thing he needed was something like this to happen between him and Harry, or anybody else, really. He had too much shit spinning around in his brain for something as stupid as interhuman relationships to get mixed in with it all.

And yet, a part of him had felt excited, for a moment. He was almost touched, that Harry cared so much about him- that Harry was clearly into him.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

Even if Harry was developing feelings, such as Draco was, it didn't change the severity of the situation, and the fact that Draco absolutely could not let himself fall for the tricks his mind was playing on him. Draco spent the rest of the evening in his room, trying and failing to get any decent sleep, and the next morning, while brewing tea, he faked impassivity while Harry- dressed in his scarltet auror uniform and shifting constantly in his spot and wringing at his hands- explained that he had to meet Weasley and Berrycloth at the ministry, on account of having processed evidence from the previous day's crime scene.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, er... Dawlish is going to watch you again, while I'm gone."

Draco relaxed marginally at the information that he wouldn't have to spend the next few hours avoiding Harry, since the case was doing that for him. However, that did mean that he'd be beckoned to sit with a cuppa to hear about 'the old days' when things were different in the auror department.

"Will there be anything else?"

"No," Harry answered. "No, just... Just stay safe, and call if you need me."

"Alright."

The two spent the next several minutes awaiting Auror Dawlish's arrival in tense and awkward silence, and Draco wished he didn't find himself absently staring at Potter (while realizing that he was staring right back). The moment he arrived, Potter was out the door as quickly as possible, with rushed goodbyes and tired pleasantries.