Come Eat
“The arguments are getting bad, mate,” Neville sighed, passing his fingers through his hair. “But anyway, Hannah suggested we see a mind healer about it- well, one that isn’t her, obviously. And he said that I should make an effort to come to church with her, since it’s so important to her, you know? Ah, I guess I’m just rambling, anyway. I’ll let you go now. See you next Sunday, yeah?”
Harry could not sleep. He hadn’t been able to for several nights, now.
"Harry, I hope you're very acutely aware of what's going on. I hope that you'll inform the auror offices immediately.”
If it wasn’t one thing keeping him up, then it was always something else.
“Call me Harry."
"Oh… Harry."
He found that, at this point, it was barely worth trying to sleep. There were simply too many things filling up his brain. He was frustrated, and he felt himself slowing down during the days, surely an effect of sleep deprivation.
He wanted to figure out whether Rookwood was someone to be concerned about, hiding out at the very church that Draco goes to. He wanted to know exactly what was going through Draco’s mind. He wanted to understand why he cared about him so much.
And, at the same time as all of that, there was a slowly mounting dread for the next time the killer may strike.
He hadn’t gotten anyone since Lucius Malfoy, and that was upwards of a month ago. In the meantime, Harry has been occupying himself with getting to know Draco, wanting to get closer, feeling…
He wished that he’d caught the bastard to hurt him already. He wished it wasn’t so difficult. Harry reckoned it might be less difficult if he could leave the flat whenever he wanted, but he was the one assigned to keep Draco safe. And, honestly, he’s increasingly found that he rather wants to be the one to keep Draco safe.
He was growing closer and closer to Draco, and Harry was starting to have a difficult time telling himself that he wasn't developing some sort of feeling...
No.
Harry didn't want to admit that. He knew that there was a certain level of emotional attachment, but that was inevitable, right? It wasn't as if he was actually falling for the man. He couldn't.
Besides, this was a mission. And Draco is extremely vulnerable, and, in all honesty, his mental state is scaring Harry. It was a dangerous place to be in. And Draco could not afford any more harm to come to him. Draco has become a victim of circumstance, and Harry is just a coping mechanism.
Draco was just using Harry as a coping mechanism, and he was okay with that. He was.
It was fine.
Harry watched as the emerging sunlight filtered through the window of Draco’s flat. He sighed. That was another night gone with less than 6 hours of sleep. And he knew that at this point, there was no hope in him sleeping more today. Harry stood with a large stretch, yawning. He grabbed his wand off the coffee table and used it to turn his sleeping area back into Draco’s neat couch. Then, he levitated the coffee table back to its original position and padded over to the kitchen.
Harry looked around for something to eat or prepare, and noticed how little there was. It made sense, considering that groceries hadn’t been done in a long while. He frowned. There must be something to eat for breakfast.
Harry opened the overhead cupboard for some tea, grabbing the tin of black tea when he heard a tapping at the window.
Harry walked over to the window, where he saw Ron’s owl tapping on the glass, asking to be let in. He slid the window open and took the letter. He read:
Harry,
I’m being put on Rookwood’s case, and I have a few questions about Malfoy. Meet me at the ministry.
-Ron
Harry was stunned, rereading the letter.
"What's that?”
Harry spun around, seeing Draco walking into the room, looking sleepy.
"What's going on?" Draco asked again.
"Er- something is going on with the Aurors."
"The Aurors?"
"The- er... well. I'm not sure, yet. I have to go."
Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry. "My assailant?"
"I don't know," Harry confessed. That's why I need to go. Oh, also, we need food. I can stop and get some things at the market, if you're alright with that?"
Draco stayed silent but nodded. When Harry stopped to pay attention, he could see the concern growing in Draco's eyes, despite his best attempts to conceal it. Harry's heart lurched. Harry nodded in return, and, acting before he could talk himself out of it, went up to Draco and hugged him. Draco was notably taken aback by the sudden display of affection, too struck by it to react.
"You're safe," Harry said. "You're safe here. Just, stay inside. I'll reapply the wards when I leave. If anything happens, I'll know immediately. I'll be back soon."
Harry let go of the hug, heart pounding wildly in his chest, and was out the door before Draco could respond.
Harry couldn’t lie to himself about the fact that he was a bit nervous to see Ron. The last time that they had spoken really, other than the magical appearance of each other’s notes on shared files, was dinner. When Harry accused George of…
Harry supposed he was fully in the wrong that night, regardless of whether he is correct about his asssessment. And he felt bad, but he couldn’t help that nagging feeling that something was off about how vehemently he supports the deaths, how the corner of his lips lifted while speaking about Draco’s injuries-
Harry shoved the image from his mind, the memory making his stomach clench.
Soon he was in front of Ron’s office, knocking on the door. Ron responded to come in, and so Harry let himself in.
“Hey,” Harry greeted. Ron reciprocated it. “How are you?”
“I’ve got a boatload of work to do, that’s what. Take a look at what happened.”
Harry sat down on the chair that was opposite Ron’s desk, relieved that Ron didn’t seem to be too miffed about the last dinner. Ron settled into his seat, folding his hands in front of him.
“You know Rookwood escaped from Azkaban?”
Harry nodded, the pastor’s announcement and Hannah’s complaints coming to the forefront of his mind.
“Well, he’s hiding out now at the church in Gordric’s Hollow, the one by the cemetery? The problem is, it’s a mostly Muggle-run church, and We have a centuries-old sanctuary agreement in place with them that’s been enforced with magic. We physically cannot arrest him in there, and he’s told the church that he’s escaping…” Ron pulled out a file with a sticky note attached to it. He read the words on the note. “Unjust Wizardring-Muggle persecution.”
Harry furrowed his brows. “I haven’t a clue what that means. It sounds made up,” he confessed.
“I asked ‘Mione. It’s the term used to enact the sanctuary agreement, which basically states that if a Wizard or Muggles are being persecuted on the basis of discrimination, law enforcement can’t arrest them under the sanctuary.”
Harry was silent for a moment, thinking.
"So what's going to happen now?"
"They'll have to figure out what to do with him," Ron explained. "Since they think he's not breaking any laws. But, he's a convicted Death Eater who's evaded capture, and he's in a half-wizarding half-muggle church under the enactment of a centuries-old bond."
"Doesn't there have to be some kind of proof that you need to provide? I mean, they can't just take someone's word for it, right?"
"There's no real requirement, as far as Hermione could find. It's an old law, and it was a big issue back then because they needed a way to keep wizarding kind safe from Muggles, but not at the expense of their human rights... You do need to show proof that you are in need of help, but I guess he managed to show just the right amount of information to fool them, and the magic did its own work."
"So, what? He can just waltz out of the church and be completely free?"
"No. The second he leaves that church, he's ours. That's why he's hiding there."
Harry sat, processing this information.
"Well, I can't leave the house. What's that got to do with me? And how does Malfoy come into this?"
"He goes to the church. I know you know this. When we ran intelligence, your name popped up too. But I figure it's just because of your job watching Malfoy. Anyway, we need to talk to you two. Some other people that came up were Neville, Hannah Abbott, Kevin Entwhistle, and Sophia Runcorn."
"I've not noticed other Wizards at the church."
"Probably because you don't know them. Don't worry about it."
"Okay."
"Now, there's a meeting at the ministry tonight, so be ready for that. I imagine you should be getting the memo on it soon. We need a recorded interview with Malfoy."
"Alright. Why?"
"Because we need to find out what his story is. All of you, really. We need to know if you feel safe in the church, we need to know if you've noticed any... off behaviour..."
"Well, you can record me now. I don't know almost anything about the situation. And I don't think anyone else does, either."
"We're hoping that if enough people say they feel unsafe, we'll be able to override the magic."
"And why can't evidence do that?"
"Because the sanctuary agreement was written to be resistant to outside influence. It's a pretty old form of magic. By the way, can you do Malfoy's for us and just send it over?"
Harry nodded. Ron pulled out his wand and cast a surveillance charm. A golden orb came out and positioned itself between the two of them.
"Alright, go ahead and begin your interview," Ron prompted.
--------
“Those who have a 'why' to live can bear with almost any 'how'”
Draco furrowed his brows, removing the cap of his Muggle highlighter and dragging the yellow felt tip across the phrase.
The book had been on Draco's bookshelf for several months, now. Draco had purchased it when he was first moved to the Muggle world on the standard of his probation, but it wasn't until recently that he'd opened it up and began reading.
The book was a non-fiction about a man's life during the Nazi occupation in France, and Draco was finding himself becoming quite invested in the stories. Draco found himself quite enjoying the content, and It wasn't long before he realized some of the quotes were worth marking. And when he arrived at this one, he read and reread the phrase several times. The words felt heavy and real and full. Draco wasn't sure how to handle the emotion in them, the truth and reality and depth.
Then, it happened- a small, menial voice in his head.
Did you ever lock the door?
Draco shook his head, wondering where the thought had come from. It had been just less than an hour since Potter- Harry, had left, and Draco could have sworn that he locked…
…Did he?
And just like that, Draco had gone from reading a book, something he hadn't been able to relax enough to do in months, to questioning himself incessantly.
Draco slammed the book shut and got up, leaving the book behind, and began pacing, trying to ignore the dread and the fear and the paranoia that was rising, rising.
He felt the scars across his body tingle with their memory of being open skin. Felt the pain as echoes of what occurred.
“I am God’s Wrath.”
Draco blinked, taking the few paces required to reach the front door. The knob of the deadbolt was up and to the left. Locked.
Just as I thought.
It was locked. I did lock the door. Draco walked to his bedroom now, no longer fancying the idea of reading.
Did I, though?
Draco stopped in his tracks.
No, you didn't. You were distracted. You've become a mess and you can't even remember to lock the door properly.
"I did," Draco said to himself, walking the rest of the way to his room.
But how do you know?
Draco closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on.
Too much warmth across his fingertips.
His heart rate was beginning to pick up.
You have to check.
Draco turned around again, back to his door. The knob was unchanged. He decided that he must put an end to the nagging in his mind by locking the door all over again.
Fifteen minutes later, Draco was flopping down onto his bed, behind the safety of his locked flat and bedroom doors, (I’m sure of it) letting himself take a deep breath.
His skin was crawling. He wondered if tidying up would help him stop thinking about it.
You already clean too often. He shut his eyes tight.
Don't start again. You're fine.
But he didn't feel fine. He felt achy and sore and restless. He could feel the tension throughout his entire body. Could feel the buzz of anxiety in his fingertips. He just wanted the thoughts to stop.
Why can't you just calm down?
Draco sighed, getting up and going over to his wardrobe, opening it up and looking over his clothing, thinking about how he would reorganize it this time. Perhaps by occasion.
When the scar across his left forearm began to itch, he grabbed a fistful of hanging clothes and tossed it onto his bed.
Then, the scar on his stomach began to burn.
Draco tried to ignore the sensation, knowing that it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
"Get over it," he hissed to himself, pulling out more clothes, trying to force his brain to concentrate on the task at hand.
His chest itched.
He began to organize the clothing on his bed according to how it would go into the wardrobe.
Then his fingers got unusually warm again, right at the spots where they'd been cut off.
He began to place a few garments into the wardrobe.
Then the scar across his stomach began to cramp.
Draco growled in frustration, removing his shirt and looking down at himself. He could see the scar tissue, irregular, raised, varying in colour, and angry. So very angry. The sight of it made him nauseous.
He could feel the cuts happening again, feel everything about the event, as though he were there again. The cold stone floor beneath him, the goosebumps all across his skin, the pain, the fear.
He pressed his hands firmly on each of the scarred areas, trying desperately to find some sort of relief.
"God, get a hold of yourself," he hissed to himself, clenching his teeth.
No matter how firmly he pressed against his scars, as soon as he moved his hands to another area, the sensation would arise again, crawling throughout his skin.
He threw himself onto his bed belly first, wishing badly that he could put an enormous, crushing weight on top of himself, imagining that that would bring him the relief he needed.
Draco groaned, pressing his face into the pillow, trying to get away from the sensations.
He wanted them to go away.
He wanted everything to go away.
-----
Draco awoke in his bedroom, sprawled across a pile of robes and clothing, in the dark. He groaned, wondering what time it was. Draco stretched slightly, grasping at a bit of clothes.
Draco let out a sigh, feeling himself grow weary.
Then he heard it. A sound from the kitchen.
Draco was up like a bolt. Eyes glued to the door of his room.
Who is here? How did they get in?
I never locked the door?
He's found me. He's going to kill me. I'm dead.
Draco's heart pounded as he tried to remain as still and quiet as possible, straining his ears to hear anything beyond the walls of his bedroom.
What should I do?
Where is my wand?
He heard a rustle and a soft thump, then a low curse.
I recognise that voice…
Hesitantly, Draco called out. "Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Is that you?"
"Yeah."
Draco breathed, letting his body relax. He opened the door, seeing Harry standing in the kitchen with various food items out.
"Merlin, you scared me."
"Oh, sorry. I got back a long while ago, but you weren't answering me when I called out for you. I used my wand to determine that you were in your room. I didn't want to disturb… I actually even went back to the ministry for a meeting and still returned before you woke.
Draco wiped at his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What time is it?"
"7:26."
"Oh."
"You fell asleep?"
"Yeah, I guess I did," Draco admitted.
"How was everything while I was gone?"
"I-" Draco paused, looking back into his room at the pile of clothing. He looked back up at Potter.
"I was doing some laundry."
Po- Harry followed Draco's line of sight to the pile of clothing.
"That's a lot of laundry."
"Er, well..."
Potter was silent, waiting for an answer.
"It was a really busy day."
"Right."
If the door was locked, how did he get in?
"Are we getting started on dinner, then?"
"Actually, I'm just about done. You woke up at a good time."
"Oh."
You left the door unlocked. Bloody lucky it was Potter who came home and not...
"You're welcome to eat with me. If you want."
"Sure, just... one second."
Draco walked over to the front door, seeing the deadbolt up and to the left. Odd.
"Remember, the wards are keyed to me."
Draco turned back to see Po- Harry… settling himself at the table. He flushed realizing that he knew what he was thinking. Harry let out a sympathetic smile.
“Come eat.”