Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Beginning to Understand

Happy Sunday, wonderful readers! Here is today's chapter! Nothing wild, but definitely some emotional moves here. Let me know what y'all think! And, as always...Enjoy!

Draco woke suddenly.

He didn't jump up, or flinch, or even become suddenly aware of any of his body. His eyes simply snapped open, his coffee table swimming into focus in front of him. Beside the top of his head, there was a distinct, soft, solid warmth.

Groggily his other senses began to focus. A rough blanket was draped over him. His neck and shoulders were hurting, and he could smell cocoa on his skin and a familiar warmth beside him. His mouth also held the taste of said cocoa and the familiar warmth he couldn't yet place....

Then, he realised he was on his own sofa. As soon as he began to question why, his brain supplied him with the memories of the night before. Of warmth and vulnerability, of tears and vague declarations, of pounding hearts and frantic lips and...

Cold panic flooded his veins.

Contradictory declarations warred inside his head, terror at the possibility that he had, once again, sent out some homing signal that would send God's Wrath right to his door.

Then, in a screeching halt of his thoughts, he registered that the warmth beside the top of his head was Harry, who must have fallen asleep sitting beside Draco.

With slow, leadened limbs, Draco shifted, testing his ability to move. He sat for a moment, then got to his feet. The floor was icy on his bare feet. He flinched as the blanket slipped off of him, shocking cold hitting his skin in a heart-stuttering chill. Then, he realised the lights from the Christmas tree no longer shone. Hermione's charms must have worn off.

He turned slowly to face Harry. Harry was sitting and curled in on himself. His mouth hung open, and his glasses hung askew, dangerously close to completely falling off as he snored into the couch cushion. Draco didn't think as he carefully approached Harry, leaned over and safely retrieved his glasses from their precarious position. The cold metal of his glasses was almost grounding. Draco shivered. He walked away before he could begin to think any terrible, sinful thoughts, such as how it felt to have Harry's skin beneath his hands, or how soft Harry looked curled up on the couch, or how he wanted to wake him up with a kiss and hold him close. He resolved to take a shower instead. If anything, it would help him get warm.

Draco found it rather difficult to shower, his brain flitting between the memories of the previous night and the wild range of emotions it brought. He swung between the two extremes of what it all had felt like for a few blissful minutes... and then the sudden realization of what he'd done, the low, sinking toll of death bells ringing for him, the sickening sense that he was proving himself a sinner again screeched his reverie to a painfully chaste halt.

When he did finally drag himself from the shower, he dressed himself warmly as he could before going back into the living room. Harry was awake and reading the OCD book that Draco had left on the coffee table.

"I've only gotten through the first chapter," Draco said.

Harry jumped up, turning to look at Draco. "Oh! Good morning. I, er... I hope you don't mind me reading."

"It belongs to you anyway, doesn't it?"

Harry gave a shy, tentative smile. "Well, it's technically Hermione's, but..." he shut the book with a clap, placing it back down. "I've gotten through more than half.... Er...." Harry adjusted from his crooked position on the sofa. "How are you... feeling, today? Better than last night?"

Draco scanned Harry up and down. He took in the mess of his slept-in hair, the bright green of his eyes, the earnest and honest expression on his face... and he wondered what he could say- what would keep him safe, if anything could, or if nothing mattered at all anymore.