Cicatrices- Marks That Remain

Dreams

Happy Sunday, awesome readers!

Here is today's chapter! Please note it is VERY therapy heavy. Warnings for discussions of suicide, abuse, self-destructive tendencies, and sexual themes.

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

Draco dreamt about Harry.

The dreams began after their first visit, and Draco hardly slept because he thought, somehow, that he'd completely ruined the entire thing. This feeling was only compounded by Harry's not visiting the next day. With therapy, he worked to remind himself that Harry was probably struggling, too. He couldn't know why Harry did or did not visit, and could not assign reasons that he wasn't certain of.

This was easier said than done, especially when, the second evening since, he still didn't visit.

Draco wasn't sure whether it was a blessing or a curse that therapy kept him busy enough to only really worry about Harry in the evenings. Each day was packed with exposures, groups, meditations, and other activities that Draco struggled to really call "Therapy". But, after all, these were Muggles, and the practice was not anything he truly understood outside of the things they explained in his psychoeducation groups.

The second night was also when the dreams changed form. They morphed from nightmarish depictions of Harry's suffering to something else entirely. Draco awoke with his heart in his throat and his lungs unable to take in air. He got out of his bed, went to his bathroom, and ran the shower cold, unable to stop staring at the door, wondering if the dreams had been bad enough for God to send for him.

Harry finally visited again on Friday. Draco refused to mention the dreams that stole his sleep the previous night, and it was just as well. Harry seemed all too eager to fill the time talking about Teddy's cold and the fact that he voluntarily gnawed on a piece of steak. Veale also sat with them a moment to confirm a day for joint therapy. It was decided to happen on Monday.

That night, and several nights after, he dreamt about Harry again.

The dreams didn't always start out the same. In some, they'd simply be lounging, enjoying time together in one way or another; cooking, watching the telly... Others, they'd start out arguing about therapy, or Teddy, or his friends, or religion... In some, one or both of them would cry a bit. In all of them, they would, eventually, kiss. And in all of them, the kissing would escalate beyond anything they'd ever done in real life, and Draco would awaken, unbreathing, reality catching up to him only a moment later. Then, inevitably, he ended up staring at the door, wondering when he might feel safe enough to go shower.

By Sunday morning, Draco was irritable from lack of sleep and finally told Dr Veale about his dreams.

He asked Draco whether he was willing to revisit the possibility of taking Muggle medicine. Draco said no faster than he could blink. He didn't want to be dependent on anything anymore. Not since he discovered the potion's slips.

"Okay," Veale said. "I'll start by saying it took some courage to tell me about your dreams, so thank you, and good job."

Then, Veale asked Draco how he felt about those dreams. Draco was half affronted that he was even speaking about such a thing with anyone other than himself.

"It's... something I want," Draco said eventually, after going back and forth about the pros and cons of admitting such a thing. The closest he'd ever gotten to that was the times he'd ever-so-subtly admitted it to Harry.