Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Grab Your Wand

Happy Sunday, Readers, lots of important things to say!

1) Unfortunately, the Portuguese translation of this story has been terminated permanently due to (according to my translator) reports from readers about maturity. Guys. please please, Mind Your Tags, and Understand that this story talks about some sensitive things from multiple points of view. If you personally cannot read, then please do not read, but don't force others who might enjoy the story to not read.

2) I've done more research regarding PTSD and it's interplay with OCD. I am working to make this story as accurate as I can. Things are getting murky in terms of definitions. If y'all have any information you think can help me be a better representative for the story, do not hesitate to reach out.

3) Happy Father's Day!

Let me know what y'all think, and, as always...Enjoy!

Harry's hands were soft against Draco's cheek, and his lips were soft against his own. Draco's brain had whited-out as their lips moved together, as their bodies moved closer. Harry was warm and soft and so, so wonderful. Nothing else felt like it mattered, in that moment, to Draco. The world seemed to shrink to only Harry, and the heat and tenderness of their touches.

Draco hadn't been expecting this, really. He wasn't expecting anything so alike the thoughts that liked to creep up on him every time Harry was particularly kind, close, or expressive. And now, Draco was lost in the warmth and comfort and intimacy. He never wanted it to stop.

Harry deepened their kiss, his mouth opening ever so slightly, his head tilting to the left. Draco reciprocated easily. He could feel a shiver running through his spine, his skin prickling and the hairs on his arms standing on their ends.

It was a new experience for him. Everything about the kiss felt so gentle, so tender, so careful, as though Harry was trying to communicate something to him. And Draco thought, perhaps, he was. He felt like he might be understanding it.

Their mouths moved together, their hands on each other's bodies. Draco's mind was swimming, his head filled with thoughts of Harry and his tenderness and his warmth. He could feel a pleasant buzzing throughout his body.

I am not protected by potential threats right now.

Draco faltered, the thought coming to him quite plainly, the elation and rush from kissing Harry suddenly gone. He swatted the thought away, putting his focus back onto Harry, whose hands were now moving to be around Draco's waist. A small sound escaped him, a swoop of warmth pooling in his belly. Then,

If the killer came in right now, I would not be prepared.

What? Draco was confused by his own thoughts.

Grab your wand. You will be safer.

Draco blinked, pulling away from Harry. His eyes fluttered open, green meeting grey.

"Draco? Are you okay?" Harry's voice was low and breathy. Draco could see him working to regain composure. His face was so soft and open, his eyes wide.

Draco swallowed thickly, "Yes, brilliant- just- one moment. Just give me a moment."

Draco stood from the couch now, the sudden distance between them making him cold. He momentarily cursed the lack of indoor heating. He was beginning to think he would have to spend the entirety of winter without a heater. He held up his pointer finger, silently repeating "one moment", before going to his bedroom, spotting his wand on his bedside table.