Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Trust

Happy Sunday, wonderful readers! I love this chapter. I hope you all do, too! As for publishing, so far, I am still on track to give you all a chapter every week... Let's hope it stays that way.

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

Draco watched as Harry's mind went distant and hazy while everybody picked up and left the pitch. He hated that it happened when Draco had agreed with Ron Weasley. (He hadn't expected himself to ever agree with Ron over anything, but there was no denying that Ron cared very much about Harry. Draco could not pretend that he didn't feel the same.) Draco could see it in the way Harry's eyes unfocused, and in the way that Harry had limply let Teddy go when Ron picked him up out of Harry's arms.

He could see it in the way Harry didn't respond to his friends' goodbyes.

Once everyone had left, when the chill of the night air was cutting into his bones in a way that reminded him uncomfortably of his Muggle flat, Draco took hold of Harry's arm, passing his hand up and down it in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Harry didn't react to that, either.

"Harry," he said. My love, he almost said. He hadn't known where it had come from, and he felt entirely unprepared to acknowledge the fact that his feelings for Harry were growing stronger with each passing day. He still refused to say the very phrase that Harry told him so often now. He wasn't sure why, but every time he considered reciprocating, his heart would stutter and he would cease to breathe. So, instead, he took a deep breath and showed his care in another way.

"...let's go home, Harry... I'll make us a hot tea, wrap us up in your weighted blanket.... We can watch the telly and have snacks. How does that sound?"

Harry's eyes flicked toward Draco, but otherwise, he didn't respond. Draco saw, however, that his breathing was barely there, and that in his eyes was a barely restrained tide of emotion so strong that it threatened to break through any barrier Harry had built around it.

"You don't have to talk about anything if you don't want," Draco tried again. "Just come with me. Let me get you warm."

Draco thought he saw something in Harry's expression flicker, and Draco gave a soft, sad smile.

"Ah, there you are," he said. "Just let me take care of you..."

Draco took his hand and led him from the pitch, grateful that Harry, at the very least, was allowing himself to be led from the spot he'd stood stuck in.

Harry still didn't speak when they got to his flat. Draco asked Harry if he wanted to change into pyjamas, and let out a sigh of anxious relief when Harry started to change out of his day's clothes unassisted. Draco left him in the room with a promise that he'd be preparing tea and a slice of treacle tart.

Draco, for his part, was trying not to show how anxious he was. Harry had barely been breaking the water's surface of his traumas as he tried to keep from drowning, and it felt a bit like regardless of Teddy coming here or not, he would have sunk beneath the surface again anyway. Couldn't he have just one whole day where he was genuinely alright? It hurt seeing him struggle so.

It's alright, Draco told himself. Harry just needs a bit of support. You can do this for him. And it's been a difficult two weeks. It only makes sense.

Once the kettle whistled, he poured the tea. Repeating reassurances to himself and mentally cataloguing where everything was that he might need.

Treacle still in the picnic basket, blanket draped over the sofa, tea tray in the cabinets- I need to take that out. And I should get the sofa into its usual bed-like shape already, too. And pillows are in the bedroom. Telly remote on top of the Telly...