Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Janus Thickey

Happy Sunday, my wonderful readers!

Warning for hospital sedation. more detailed notes at the end of the chapter, for spoiler reasons.

Please let me know what y'all think of the chapter! And, as always...Enjoy!

Harry did not sleep at all the night after his visit with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. His night was plagued by images of Draco in various forms of suffering, as well as a furious headache that potions did not help in the slightest. Teddy, on the other hand, slept perfectly sound beside Harry, thumb in mouth and penguin in arms, his hair a bright teal. Harry was almost jealous of him for being so blissfully capable of rest.

There was one moment when he did manage to fall asleep, however, he woke with a start not even two hours later, his heart in his throat, reeling from a nightmare- blood, parts, warehouses, bodies- intermingling with something much older, something that Harry always tried his best to avoid- camping in the woods, Hermione screaming, 'is this Harry Potter?' 'I can't be sure'.

He gave up on sleep after that, opting instead for watching his ceiling fan rotate, feeling the bed shift when Teddy turned over in his sleep...

By the time their routine the next morning had begun, Harry was beyond tired and irritable. He moved in a body that wasn't his own and the smallest actions felt like a losing fight with gravity. Harry dragged himself into the shower in a feeble attempt at washing off the clinging layer of exhaustion that coated him like grime. Then, he woke Teddy and got him dressed for therapy. As if responding to Harry's foul mood, Teddy vehemently protested the putting on of his shirt. Harry's nostrils flared in suppressed irritation, trying not to let his anger show as Teddy wandlessly put a barrier between them. Harry did not have the energy for this.

"Teddy, you're going to be late!"

"No!" He shouted, and Harry, without a single fuck left to give, didn't even care that Teddy was talking. He knew somewhere in the back of his anger he would hate himself later for that, but right now Teddy's verbal defiance was, in some ways, a relief. It was far better than him setting anything on fire or floating himself to the ceiling again, in any case.

"Fine! Be late. 'S not like I've a job to miss anymore anyway..." Harry growled, tossing the shirt aside and leaving Teddy in his self-enclosed box.

Harry stood in his kitchen, arms on the counter, taking several breaths, glaring daggers at the oven, which was just the first thing in his line of sight. He needed to get out of that bedroom before he did something stupid like throw Teddy's clothing away out of spite. He's a toddler, he kept reminding himself. He's a toddler doing normal toddler things...

He chose the wrong day to be a normal toddler...

In his periphery, he could see the books that Hermione left from last night. Their presence alone made Harry feel impossibly heavier and sick to his stomach.

Harry jumped when he heard a loud thunk from his room. He flung the door open, scanning for injured children. The first thing he noticed was that his bed was overturned, and Teddy was laughing in another corner, completely unharmed, his hair a bright pink. He sighed, shoulders slumping. Bugger scared me so that I'd come into the room...

Harry was indeed about a half hour late bringing Teddy to Willow Buds. He looked on, dazed and so, so exhausted, as Teddy very happily walked into the therapy room, smiling at Hannah as she led him away.

Then, he was back in his flat, laying restless in bed, uncomfortably warm and feeling as though he were made of lead. Every time he would attempt sleep, he'd barely manage to drift off before Draco would pop up in his head, Draco anxiously locking his doors, Draco bleeding, Draco passing out in Harry's arms, Draco dead...