Coming Home

(Slight trigger warning for self-harm themes)

Draco wakes to an unfamiliar light, his eyes squinting as he pries them open, finding himself in the hospital wing. He blinks rapidly, trying to recall anything that would’ve led him to being here. As if looking through a film, or a thick wall of fog, he remembers walking with Harry down the hall. He remembers calling Harry’s name. He remembers someone screaming his name in return before everything went dark.

He tries to move, finding it possible, but extremely painful to do so. Draco groans quietly, settling back against cot, feeling weight subtly shift at his side. He looks down, finding Harry to be fast asleep, bent over in a chair that he’s pulled to the edge of the cot, his head resting near Draco’s hip.

Draco can’t help but smile as he raises his hand, setting it in Harry’s hair and stroking through the dark locks softly. Harry’s eyes flutter open, locking onto Draco’s immediately as he sits up.
“Draco.” He breathes, a smile cracking across his lips, his cheek imprinted with a mark from being asleep against the sheets. “Are you alright?”

Draco nods, ignoring the soft pounding in his head as he traces the dark circles under Harry’s eyes.
“Are you?” He asks, his voice coming out as nothing more than a rasp. “What happened?”

Harry nods, taking a deep breath.
“The ceiling fell in.” He says softly. “I—I didn’t move quick enough, I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know if you were okay…if you were alive. It was… are you really alright?”

His voice drops to nothing more than a whisper by the time he finishes speaking. Draco nods, squeezing Harry’s hand.
“I’m alright.” Draco replies. “Sore.”

He laughs, and Harry even cracks a small smile in return.
“I bet.” He replies, the smile fading almost immediately. “I have to admit, I wasn’t so sure you would be okay. There was a lot. You—you didn’t move.”

Draco notices as Harry’s hand squeezes his tighter, as if he’s afraid Draco will slip away if he doesn’t.
“How long was I out?” Draco asks, running his thumb along the back of Harry’s hand.

Harry swallows hard.
“Three days.” He replies, shaking his head and blinking as though he’s trying to forget the time that’s passed. “I um—your parents are here.”

Draco’s blood runs cold.
“My parents?” He echoes, every inch of his body turning to stone, filling with lead. “Why? I—who told them?”

Harry sighs, running his other hand through his hair.
“I did.” He whispers.

Draco’s heart sinks.
“Why would you do that?” He asks, his voice raising, his hand pulling out of Harry’s. “Why would you bring them here?”

Harry reaches for Draco again, but Draco pulls away, keeping his hand far from Harry’s open one.
“I just—I thought maybe—”

“Maybe nothing.” Draco interjects. “You know how they are you know my parents and you brought them here. You brought them to the one place I’m able to be away from them.”

Harry opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, then closes it again.
“I think you should go.” Draco says lowly.

Harry’s eyes widen as he shakes his head once.
“No, please.” He asks just as lowly. “I’m sorry, Draco I—”

“Just go.” Draco replies, turning his head to the side, looking away from Harry.

He waits until he hears the chair push back, waits until he hears Harry stand and walk towards the door. Only when Draco turns to watch him leave does he notice that Harry is still wearing his Quidditch jumper. Only then does he notice the way Harry’s hands grip the cuffs of the sleeves with white knuckles, only letting go to push the door open and step into the hall.
Only as the door shuts does Draco immediately regret sending him away.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Madame Pomfrey says as she steps up to the side of his bed. “I’ve got to take your vitals dear.”
Draco nods numbly, closing his eyes tightly as he leans back against the pillow. He stays that way for hours before the doors open and shut again, two sets of footsteps nearing his bed. His eyes don’t need to open to identify them.

One heavy set, stalking and calculated.
One lighter one, unsure and hesitant.

The lighter one speeds though as Draco turns his head towards the sound, opening his eyes to find his mother rushing towards him, eyes wide and hands already reaching out, leaving his father to slow drastically behind her, preserving the large space between them.

“Draco.” His mother breathes, her hands hovering over him for a moment as tears sparkle in her eyes. “Are you alright?”
Draco nods, unable to stop himself from cracking a small smile as his mother rests a tentative hand on his cheek.

“I’m fine mum.” He tells her quietly. “It’s alright.”
She nods, smiling as she blinks away her tears, brushing his hair away from his forehead gently. His father finally steps to the side of the bed, looking over Draco in a disapproving fashion, his eyes raking over him a couple of times before he nods once.

“Father.” Draco replies, the only greeting he would know to address him, the only greeting they’d ever shared.

“Glad you are well.” Lucius replies.

Draco nods, noticing the way his father’s hands tap on his legs uncomfortably. He takes personal satisfaction in knowing that his father is just as uncomfortable being here as Draco is having him here.

Another wave of regret washes over Draco as he wraps his arms around himself, silently wishing Harry was here, silently hating himself for sending him away.

“Pomfrey says you’ll be cleared by morning.” Lucius says in a monotone voice. “I assume you’ll be accompanying us home.”

Home.
The word clangs through Draco awkwardly, uncomfortably.

He looks at his mom, her eyes locking onto his, seeming to sense the turmoil within Draco without him having to utter a word.
“No.” Draco says finally, dragging his eyes to meet the icy ones of his father. “I’m already home.”

A small smile breaks on Narcissa’s face as she nods once, her head dropping down to look at her shoes, to hide her expression from her husband.
Lucius’ hands tighten into fists.

“If you think you’re part of something, you’re wrong.” He says with a low growl. “If you think any of these people care about you then you’re dafter than I could have imagined.”

Lucius reaches out and grips Draco’s wrist, pulling it forward and shoving his sleeve up to reveal the Dark Mark below.
“If you think anyone’s forgotten about this,” He hisses, running his thumb along the mark. “you’re crazy. They’re all afraid of you. They’re all manipulating you. No one cares about you, Draco. Wake up.”

Lucius throws Draco’s arm back onto the bed, turning on his heels and snapping his fingers once to signal Narcissa to follow. She hesitates for a second, leaning forward to press her lips to Draco’s brow.

He smiles up at her tightly, nodding once, silently telling her that he understands. She winks sadly as she turns, hurrying to catch up with Lucius.

As the door shuts, Draco exhales loudly. The room is quiet, the light from the windows gone as night falls. He looks at his arm again, tracing over every swirl and twist in the sick design left on his skin.

Draco grits his teeth, clenching his jaw as he reaches for his wand.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright Mr. Malfoy, you are clear to leave.” Madam Pomfrey tells him the next morning, offering a hand to help him out of the bed as she finishes her check.

Draco takes it, and she leaves him alone to dress in clean clothes. He silently wonders if Harry brought them, silently hoping that he did, hoping that maybe he hasn’t ruined everything between them already.

He walks out to the hall, taking deep breaths as his body adjusts to moving again, walking through the dull ache that echoes through his muscles and bones. He heads towards the tent, hoping Harry’s still there.

He unzips the entrance, exhaling with relief as Harry sits up, looking at Draco with wide eyes as he slides his glasses onto the bridge of his nose.
“Draco.” He breathes, automatically reaching out for him. “Are you alright?”

Draco nods, zipping the tent behind him as he stumbles into Harry’s arms.
“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, burying his face in Harry’s chest. “I shouldn’t have been mad at you, I overreacted and I was stupid and I’m so sorry.”

Harry shakes his head, running his hand along Draco’s back.
“I shouldn’t have called them.” He says quietly. “I knew how bad your relationship with them was and I just… I didn’t know if you would be okay and I panicked and—”

Draco cuts him off with a kiss.
“I know.” Draco whispers, smiling softly. "I love you."

Harry smiles back.
“I love you too.” He replies, brushing a finger along Draco’s cheek.

His fathers words clang through him again as Harry looks at him so innocently, and Draco pulls awkwardly at his sleeve. The motion doesn’t go unnoticed, and Harry’s eyes flit to Draco’s arm.
“Are you alright?” Harry asks, his hand reaching for Draco’s.

“Fine.” Draco replies, not moving quickly enough to pull his arm from Harry’s gaze.

Harry pushes his sleeve back, revealing a mangled mess of fresh marks, scars, and bruises along Draco’s pale wrist.
“This isn’t from the accident.” Harry breathes, his hand hovering over the mess of Draco’s arm. “Did your father do this to you?”

Draco shakes his head slowly.
“I tried to get rid of the Mark.” He whispers back, his voice hardly audible, shame filling him. “No spells work.”

Harry exhales softly. He looks over the wounds again, evaluating them silently before leaning down to press his lips against them gently.
Draco watches him closely, his throat tightening as he forces himself to hold back tears.

Harry looks back up, pulling Draco’s sleeve back down and crushing him against his body again.
“Don’t ever do that again.” He whispers. “No one here cares about that stupid mark, no one here judges you for that.”

Draco nods, the fear that maybe Harry is just telling him what he wants to hear sinking lower, but not going away entirely. They get ready soon after, heading out of the tent side-by-side as they walk towards the Great Hall.

“Will you go get breakfast for us?” Harry asks, brushing a hand along Draco’s arm. “I have to run and do something really quickly.”

Draco nods, wondering where Harry is going, but not asking as he walks towards the Hall.

Harry walks casually until Draco is out of sight, then breaks into a run, straight for Professor McGonagall.