Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

The Park Bench

Happy Sunday, my wonderful fantastic spectacular readers who are so amazing!Warning for mentions of self-injurous behavior tied to childhood OCD.

Let me know what y'all think! And, as always....

Enjoy!

Harry's mind was running at a speed that made it difficult for him to grasp any single thought concretely.

Currently, he was sitting in Ron and Hermione's dining room, staring blankly at the empty seat beside him. Draco had just left through the floo, emotions shuttered suddenly just moments after he'd cried at the revelation that was his mother's meddling in his health without his knowledge.

"...Damn." Ron's voice rang dully across the space, cutting into the silence Draco had left in his wake. Hermione was anxiously biting her nails.

"Oh, I was too harsh, wasn't I... I didn't mean for that at all! He hates me now, surely, but I needed to discuss what we'd found! How could I have known-"

"'Mione, breathe," Ron cut off Hermione's anxious rambling. Hermione cast him a look, then huffed, something between frustration and an attempt at calming down. She continued biting her nails, though. Then, she turned to Harry, who was still dumbstruck by what had unfolded and lagging behind in uptake.

"Do you know anything about...?" Hermione trailed off, knowing her question was ridiculous, but frustrated at not being able to find answers, anyway. Harry simply let his lips form a thin line. He glanced back towards the fireplace.

"I mean, I guessed at this not being... the nicest conversation. This is Malfoy we're talking about. But I didn't expect... well, that reaction," Ron reasoned, though he too was looking a bit struck dumb and at a loss. Harry was glad he wasn't the only one.

What... what just happened? It was the most his brain could formulate in that moment, even though Harry knew what just happened. He tried to think through the situation, making note of everything he understood. Hermione uncovered potions slips for Draco dated back to when he was just a toddler. Draco has been taking calming draughts almost all his life. Draco didn't know that he'd been taking a modified Draught of Peace all his life.

"...Certainly aligns with how aloof he always was," Hermione was speaking, and Harry hadn't quite picked up on it until now. "I always thought it was simply him being so foul. And, well, he was foul, but..."

And why hadn't he known that? It seemed a bit odd, and more than a bit horrifying, to have been taking such a strong potion, especially as a child, and without knowledge. Harry knew the Draught of Peace well. He and Ron had once uncovered an illegal trade of it when they were Aurors together. The more Harry thought of it, the more his heart began to pound and his stomach roiled with the implications of how much it may or may not have affected a child-Draco Malfoy... Drowsiness, disinterest in surroundings, impulsivity, increased hunger, narrow focus, reduced emotional reactivity....

Harry was more than a bit put-off at his inability to parse through how much of child-Draco had been him and how much had been an ill-advised long-term dosing of potions. Potions that had been not only known about but permitted by key members of Hogwarts' staff. Dumbledore and Snape, Harry could understand in a clinical, detached way. But Madame Pomfrey? And McGonagall? He was sure they had their reasons, but right now, Harry couldn't even begin to fathom why....

"You said you both went to Hogwarts? You spoke with McGonagall and Pomfrey?"

"Yeah," Ron replied. "They're the only living people who signed the document and could give us more insight."