Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Our Father, Who Art in Heaven

Happy Sunday, folks! I hope we are all doing well!

Y'all this has got to be one of my favorite chapters that I've written. A lot of research has been going into cha[ters 51-54 for maximum accuracy and sensitivity. And I just love the deeply psychological stuff.

Just in case, I will let you know that we spend like 99.9% of this chapter completely inside of Draco's head while he's stuck in Ministry holding, and there's a lot in there.

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

Enjoy!

You're not safe, you're not safe, you're not safe...

Draco stared at the tinned tomatoes on toast and the mug of cold watery tea that had been brought to his cell. Even if he had felt hungry, the metallic odour of the tomatoes was enough to roil his stomach. Against his will he found himself deep in the memory of the first meal Harry had made for him. It hadn't been fancy, but it was worlds away from this. His chest ached and his fingers twitched at the thought of Harry. Harry's steady hands as he shaved... the smell of his soap and freshly washed skin...

"If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death. Their blood shall be upon them."

Draco bit his tongue.

You need to check the doors to be safe.

Draco's hand twitched, and he glanced back up at the cell door. In the half hour that he'd been here, he had already gotten stuck with yanking on it with all his body weight, testing whether or not it would open, whether or not he was safe.

The aurors took it as an attempt to escape, and his wrists were bound to chains that connected to the wall. It's been about another half hour since that. Now, he could only freely access about half of his cell, and he surely could not reach the cell door. Draco swallowed around the dryness in his throat.

You are going to die if you do not check the doors.

The mantra was nauseating, at this point. He kept reminding himself that nothing mattered, anymore, that he was chained and in a holding cell at the ministry, and isn't it safe enough that I'm in the Ministry of Magic? Surrounded by law enforcement?

It most certainly was not enough. Not to his brain, at least. His expression curled to one of disgust and frustration.

Absently, he thought that perhaps if he had his wand with him, if he could feel the crevices of it, maybe he would feel safer. Two thoughts wrenched themselves forward at that. One, they took his wand. And two:

"A man also or woman that hath a familiar spirit, or that is a wizard, shall surely be put to death: they shall stone them with stones: their blood shall be upon them."

Draco still didn't quite understand that. He was shocked to see any mention of wizardry in the Bible, the book of a Muggle religion, in the first place. It was concerning enough, in the least. He had been thinking to look further into the history between Muggles and Wizards, but, well, now he was here, and being a wizard was one of the last things truly on his mind. Rather nonsensically, Draco began to think that perhaps this was God attempting to punish him again. He wondered if, in thinking about Harry the way he had, he had put him on God's bad side as well.

There was a noise, and Draco flinched, turning to follow the sound. You are not safe. God's Wrath is coming. You are to face it, to pay for your sins, abomination.