Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

One Thing at a Time

A/N: Happy Sunday, dear readers, How are you all doing this fine afternoon? We are getting closer to the rising action and climax. We're not quite there yet, but we're getting there.

Unfortunately, I have some bad news. I will not be posting as per our schedule for the next few weeks. Due to various things, such as finals, midterms, (for a psych major) stress at home, and being busy preparing for performing in an enormous concert for my college's music school (I play the trumpet), I have fallen severely behind in my writing, and will be using the next few weeks to catch myself up.

(For those of you who read the Portuguese translation, my posting schedule is not related to the translation, and my lack of posting should not affect the translation unless the translator independently chooses to alter their schedule)

The next post for this story (as well as resuming of our usual schedule) is slated to occur on May 5th...

IF*** I so happen to get ahead before said date, I will post before that. But until then, y'all should not expect anything until the 5th of May.

My dearest apologies, wonderful readers.

For now, though, please let me know what you all think, and, as always...Enjoy!

Harry's mind was reeling.

What was I thinking? The feel of Draco's face in his hand, of their breaths intermingling, the electric fizzle as they nearly...

He can still feel that most minute brush of his lips against his.

Harry should have known not to advance on Draco, the way he did. But he couldn't help himself. Draco's presence had gone past the point of enthralling and was now wholly intoxicating, and Harry had been drawn in, and he couldn't bring himself to escape.

The memory of Draco pushing him away, the way his face looked when he was so close, the way he said "no" was burned into Harry's mind, making his chest tighten with guilt and shame.

And then there was the matter of Draco's arm...

Harry was worried for the man, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Draco had not been as well off as Harry had assumed (and even then, Harry didn't think he was doing well off in the first place). Harry didn't like the fact that Draco had been hurting. It's been difficult enough for Harry, seeing Draco clean when he's stressed, watching him obsess over the doors and drive himself into anxious frenzies over it- it was driving Harry a bit mad. part of him wanted to seize Draco by the shoulders and ask him to just talk to me, please. I want to help you.

But alas.

After a half hour of moping, Harry got word from Ron's ministry owl that they were to meet at the ministry to go over details from the day's events. Harry sighed. All he wanted was to stay in Draco's flat, figure out what bloody mess he'd gotten himself into, and be near Draco.

Harry spent the night alternating between fits of restless sleep and lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering about Draco and what was going on inside his head, and whether he was okay, and whether Harry would even be welcome near him at the moment. By the time the sun was beginning to rise, Harry gave up on any sort of rest, no matter how sluggish he felt, and readied himself for work. Draco came out from his room when Harry was nearly ready to go, making him jolt, suddenly anxious to explain that he'd need to be gone, and that Draco would be watched by Auror Dawlish in the meantime, but he was able to get it out. Draco feigned disinterest and boredom. Harry's heart stuttered. After several minutes of awkward waiting, Harry was able to leave the flat certain that Draco would be safe, and he appeared straight into the ministry's auror department.