Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Moist Banana Muffins

Happy Sunday, fantastic readers! Here is today's chapter for you!

Warnings for graphic depiction of self-injurious behavior related to OCD.

Also, remember many, many, many, many chapters ago, when I differentiated Draco's checking compulsions from his cleaning, well.... Let's just say the lines of "what constitutes Draco's OCD" have blurred. It is a thing to have multiple different obsessions and multiple different compulsions. We've known for a long time now that his cleaning had tipped the line from healthy to unhealthy. Well, it has also tipped the line from not part of his OCD to part of his OCD.

Now, to be very clear, I do not believe that his cleaning is part of a contamination obsession. I could be wrong, but I tried very hard to make sure that it is really about him obsessing over trying to get rid of his obsessions.... paradoxical, I know.

If I am inaccurate in labeling, representation, or anything else, please let me know, as I am always open to feedback so long as it is constructive.

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

Enjoy!

Draco woke up on Sunday morning early- the habit formed deep in his bones from months of regular church attendance.

The difference between today and all of those other days: the church was in smithereens now.

The last few days since Draco's visit to the Weasley residence had been subdued enough. On Friday, Draco woke up before Harry and slowly untangled himself from the bed. He had made them breakfast, determined not to have Harry make it. He was able to put the food under a stasis charm and crawl back into bed before Harry awoke. The day was spent lazing in bed, not doing much more than cuddle and nap. Harry seemed a mixture of startled and thankful to find a breakfast ready-made for him when they eventually did eat. Draco felt himself glow with pride knowing he did that.

On Saturday, they spent the day much the same, with the addition of a small hiccup when Draco found himself in a battle against his intrusive thoughts. He ended up losing three hours of his day checking the doors and windows. After about 45 minutes of this, Harry had retreated to the bedroom, leaving Draco torn between continuing to check until he felt safer and forcing himself to stop in an effort not to further stress Harry.

But now, Sunday, Draco felt, to put it quite simply, hollow.

There was nothing to get dressed for, nobody to eat his sweets, no event to fill the morning, no reason for him to leave the flat, and certainly no sanctuary awaiting him as it had through the last year. The hollow feeling spread slowly but mercilessly, like poison seeping through the walls. Sundays had become the one day when he knew what to do with himself. He could polish his shoes, smooth his hair, box up the sweets, and step into the chapel where he might, even if just for the morning, be more than the sum of his failures. Feel like he had a chance at something better. It was routine. It was penance.

And now, it was gone.

Of course, on this particular Sunday, Draco got up and started doing things anyway, if only for the fact that he was at a loss as to what else he could do. He found a recipe for Moist Banana Muffins. And got to making a tray, knowing there was no church to take them to and no congregation to taste them.