Soft, Fresh, Lemon-Blueberry Cake Bars
The next few days were fraught with tension and awkward silences between Draco and Harry. They often found themselves at a loss for how to interact with each other.
Draco found himself constantly on edge. Half the time, he was watching his back, resisting checking the doors and windows constantly with Potter around. The other half, he was cleaning in a frenzy in order to ignore any and all unsavoury thoughts that popped into his mind.
Then there were the mundane moments, like brewing tea, reading a book, and eating a meal. Those were the moments in which Draco and Potter would often find themselves taking turns attempting and failing to have any sort of conversation. Draco noticed that, without having a Potter to fight with, there was nothing to do whenever he was around him. He certainly didn't want to have another mental breakdown in front of him, and even less did he want to have anything resembling a heart-to-heart. Draco found himself withdrawing into himself, retreating into the safety of his room. It was a way to protect himself, and it had worked for the past few days. But now, it felt suffocating. He wanted out, wanted to be around people, wanted to feel alive again.
He wanted to return to church.
Unfortunately, now he was being babysat by Great Britain's most famous wizard, which meant he had to tell him that he was hoping to go to Sunday Mass in two days.
Potter insisted he accompanies him.
That night, he decided to try his hand at baking again. The recipe was something easy, something he had no chance of messing up. Soft, Fresh, Lemon Blueberry Cake Bars.
It was an extremely simple recipe built for even a beginner to accomplish, and, what appealed to Draco the most, the tremors in his fingers wouldn't affect the outcome of this dessert.
He was doing this. He was going to get back to trying to live a normal life, not hiding in his flat. And even if something happened, he would have Potter there with him. Everything was going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. He forced himself to believe it.
Sunday morning arrived and Draco felt the most anxious he'd ever felt to leave his flat. He spent an uncomfortable amount of time fixing his hair and clothing, and he nearly lost his appetite for breakfast over the thoughts that were racing through his head.
"Are you ready?" Potter opened the front door and waited for Draco to walk through. He was doing this. He was going to leave his flat. He was going to see the rest of the world for the first time in almost a month.
The first challenge Draco encountered was right outside his flat, locking the door. Potter closed and locked it behind the two of them, however, an itch came up in the back of Draco's mind. I need to lock the door.
Draco shook his head. The thought was ridiculous. There was nobody to be attacked in his flat. Why would he need to perform his locking ritual?
I am not safe if I don't lock the door.
Potter was about halfway down the first set of stairs when he noticed that Draco was stuck staring at his front door.
I will be attacked if I do not lock the door. I will die. I am putting myself in danger.
"What's wrong?"
Draco shook his head, refusing to meet Potter's gaze.
"I need to lock the door," Draco whispered, his voice shaking. He cursed himself for how menial it came out.
Potter frowned but didn't say anything. He simply reached into his pocket and retrieved the key he'd just used to hand it to Draco. Draco inserted it into the lock with his tremored fingers, then turned the key. One, two, three, four...
"I... I think you've locked the door a few times now, Draco."
...ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen...
"...Draco?"
...twenty. Draco removed the key from the lock, placed it in his pocket, and pulled out his wand.
"Calloportus-"
"You know that I have wards over the flat, right?" Potter spoke right over Draco's four locking charms. And it was when Draco began to violently use the door handle to force the door open eight times that Potter became alarmed and attempted to stop Draco, which did not work. Draco was determined to finish his ritual, so I can stay safe.
When the whole ordeal was finished, and Draco could feel the panic that threatened to come out subsiding when he could feel his breath returning to him, was when Potter spoke.
"Are you sure you're okay?" His voice was gentle, and Draco was surprised at how much he appreciated that.
Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
They left the apartment complex in silence, both of them at a loss for words. Draco was embarrassed that Potter had to watch that. He had done well to not do his rituals in front of him until now. He wondered if Potter thought Draco was mad, or worse, fit for an institution. They reached the apparation sight.
Draco felt... different than he had all of these weeks as he approached the grand double doors of St. Jerome's church in Godric's Hollow. Somehow, he felt a mixture of nervous and excited. He didn't know what to make of it.
The two of them entered the church and Draco knew that they were late. Father Swain could be heard speaking, and when Draco approached the entry room to put his cake bar on the table for guests to eat after the service, the table was full, with just barely enough room for the tray he'd baked.
Draco found a seat in the back for Potter and him to sit. When he was finally able to settle into his seat, Draco was enveloped in the palpable peace of the church. He closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to relax, to feel something other than the endless anxiety that seemed to constantly plague him. He breathed in the scent of candles and listened to the sound of hymns, allowing himself to be enveloped in the moment.
As Father Swain spoke, Draco found himself captivated by the words, entranced by the way the priest's voice flowed over the congregation, filling the room with the warmth of the gospel. Potter didn’t participate, but Draco didn’t mind. He was here for himself.
He listened to the words, feeling solace in them. Draco allowed himself to get lost in the stories. He felt himself uplifted by the church choir's singing.
He allowed himself to completely forget everything bad that was occurring in his life, even if for just an hour or so.
When the service was finally over, and Draco and Potter were the last to get up from their seats. Draco found himself feeling emotionally drained. He was grateful for the moment, and for the peace and tranquility the church had brought him. He knew that he would need to go back soon, but for now, he wanted to savour the quiet of the church and the feeling of being at peace.
"Well, if it isn't our saviour, Harry Potter."
Draco opened his eyes, turning to see Potter as he moved to get up and shake the hand of a redhead, and- wait... do I know her?
"Hannah! hello! How are you doing?"
"I'm managing... Say, what brings you to church? I can't say I've seen you around."
"Oh, well, I came with Draco, he frequents the church, actually." Potter motioned to him, and he tensed. He had gotten to know people at the church, but he couldn't say that he'd been acquainted with her, no matter how familiar she looked to him.
Hannah... Abbott? No, she was a blonde.
"Oh," said Hannah, looking closely at Draco. "I have seen him around here, though not for several weeks, now." She took a full-scale look at him, and Draco shifted on his feet. The air became awkward.
"Er, I see you dyed your hair... You used to be blonde, no?" Harry tried to break the awkward atmosphere.
"Yes, I'm trying something new."
The blonde girl from a few seats forward!
Suddenly it hit Draco that yes, he did know her. He had for years, and it made perfect sense that she was casting wary glances toward him...
"I see. Brilliant! Well, it's been a while."
"It has..."
They all stood there awkwardly for a few moments, not knowing what to say, until finally, Harry spoke again.
"So, how are things between you and Neville?"
Draco hadn't realized that Hannah Abbott was dating Neville Longbottom. He glanced around just then, noting that he didn't see Longbottom anywhere near them.
Hannah pursed her lips. "Things are just fine," she tried. Draco could see right through the lie. He wondered what was going on.
"Teddy is making great progress, by the way."
"Really? I'm glad to hear it." Draco didn't miss the way that Potter's eyes lit up. There was an added enthusiasm to his voice that Draco had never heard before. "Last I saw him was at a Sunday dinner. He isn't much of a talker, eh?"
"Oh, but don't you worry about that. It's not uncommon for people like him to struggle with speaking. If you take the time to observe him closely and get to know him better, I promise you'll see how much he's improving."
Potter nodded, biting his bottom lip as he turned away. He seemed guilty of being called out by Hannah Abbott as unengaged in Teddy's life. The room grew tense. Draco tapped Potter's shoulder, unable to bear witness to such a stale conversation. It was clear to him that Abbott was both ignoring Draco and uninterested in speaking about herself. That, coupled with Potter's ineptitude for conversation was not appealing.
"We should get going if we want to taste any of the sweets on display."
"Oh, yes," Harry responded. Then he turned back to Abbott "Hannah, did you know that Draco bakes pastries for the Masses he attends?"
"I did."
"I can't wait to try one. I was there when he made today's batch. The place smelled incredible while it was in the oven." he said. And Draco felt an unexplainable sense of pride behind that. Potter likes my desserts... He wants to try the things that I make.
"Oh, you're... staying? With Draco Malfoy?"
It was more of a statement than a question, and Draco could see the bewilderment in Abbott's eyes. Draco kept his guard up.
"Yes. I'm sure you've heard about everything in the news... well, he's under witness protection."
"Ah, yes. The news...
Well, I best be going. I'll be late to going home. Goodbye, Harry." And Hannah gave Draco one more lookover as she walked away. Draco couldn't explain why exactly he felt so tense, now.