Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

God's Mercy

Happy wonderful Sunday, amazing readers!Here is this week's chapter. Be aware of minor mentions of differing views regarding caring for individuals with autism.Also be aware of topics surrounding physical arousal, though it is vague.Please, let me know what you all think! And, as always...Enjoy!

Draco awoke the next morning feeling disoriented, heavy, and unusually warm, yet pleasantly sluggish. For the first time in what felt like forever, Draco slept through the majority of the night. He blinked, coming to his surroundings and willing himself to shake the tiredness off. The scars on his arm tingled with the memory of Harry's half-asleep kisses the previous night. Draco's heart kicked up as he remembered the ache of Harry's protectiveness and the way that he shrank down afterwards, exhausted and grieving his own childhood through Teddy's.

Harry, currently, was starfished crookedly across Draco's torso, snoring softly as he slept.

If there was anybody who deserved to live a happy, calm life under God, Draco thought it was Harry, the saviour of the Wizarding World, the most fiercely loving man Draco has ever met, the boy who gave everything to save them....

Draco felt his heart rate pick up as his mind began rapidly shooting questions to the forefront. It seemed now that Draco was awake, he had no choice but to mull everything over, going in circles until he was left exhausted all over again.

If Father Swain is to be believed, and neither Wizardry nor homosexuality are sins, then what on God's green Earth could Harry possibly be paying for? What could he have possibly done? Was God simply cruel? Was Harry paying for being with Draco? Father Swain wouldn't believe in something like that... would he?

There was a voice that cropped up, sneaking between the mess of thoughts like a snake in the grass, which reared up, unbidden, whispering with a hiss that suffering might not be what God wanted. Draco's chest seized, and he glanced over his shoulder, expecting some force to attack him for such a thought.

Questioning God, now, are we? And you still pray for forgiveness. Pathetic.

Draco flinched back as though he'd been hit, his body recoiling from the thought with a sharp, sudden movement. Harry shifted from it, waking up.

His green eyes found Draco's easily, and he propped himself up on his elbow to stay level, half-asleep as they watched each other.

"Morning..." Harry stayed still for a second more, then his brows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

Shit. The last thing he'd wanted was to worry Harry, especially with how difficult the previous day had been, and how keyed up he was bound to be today with Teddy and Andromeda.

"Nothing," he said, his voice carefully soft and measured. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"I slept alright after the first time I woke up," he said, but his brows were still furrowed as he searched Draco's expression. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

Harry was half-reaching for Draco, his hand not quite making it to anything, and instead falling limply to his side.

"Other than the fact your elbow's digging into my ribs-"

"Oh! Sorry, I- er..." Harry scrambled away, settling instead beside Draco in the bed. "Sorry."

"It's alright," Draco said, kind of hating that he'd made Harry apologise for literally anything. His elbow hadn't really even been particularly painful where it was. "I'm fine," he insisted. "I promise." His stomach twisted on itself.

Harry didn't look convinced, but at the very least, he let it go, and Draco tried not to let it show that he wanted to check the door was closed, even though nobody had gone in or out. The base of his neck prickled. He tried pressing his thumb to each finger, instead. At least that was easier to hide than checking doors.