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(TW! Self Harm!) • • • • •
Draco was sat, still, shaken, in front of her in the bathroom. She'd never seen the arrogant little asshole this devastated. His arm oozed blood around the fresh, inky dark mark. His blood.
"I spent hours in the shower, foolishly, trying to scrub it off." His eyes, brilliant pools of sadness, darted briefly to the mark that branded him to Voldemort. His arm was flushed from being scrubbed. "Then I tried to carve it out." His voice was strangled, almost. "Then I cried." Draco finished in an ashamed whisper.
Sadness was written on every inch of her face as she watched him silently. She grabbed a wet towel before kneeling before him, taking his arm ever so gently in her hand before pressing the towel to his skin, cleaning up the blood.
He flinched ever so slightly at the feel of someone else's touch, but he was too exhausted to argue. The feel of the warm towel against his raw skin was soothing, but he was still overcome with a burning sensation. He was used to being in control, so this vulnerability only felt awkward and uncomfortable.
As the damp towel started to clean away the blood, Draco winced. The mark was still bleeding slowly despite his best attempts to stop it.
After most of the blood was cleaned up, she tossed the towel aside and picked up her wand instead, pointing it towards his skin. The magic quickly cleared his arm from any remaining blood, healing his wound. Once the spell was finished, she leaned down and gently kissed the mark.
Draco watched her with a mix of awe and surprise. He was in so much pain, and she managed to make it better within minutes. When she kissed the dark mark, he let out a sigh.
The feeling of the soft lips against the mark was soothing. The kiss was comforting; he felt safer. It was ironic that the mark he now hated was an expression of one who'd caused Draco so much pain, and yet, her touch and kiss was a welcome relief. He felt his body relaxing; all his tension eased away. No one had ever done that for him.
She sat herself back against the wall with her arms outstretched, welcoming him to her touch. "Come here." She whispered.
He wanted nothing more than to be held. He needed it so desperately since the moment he came back. This girl was being so accommodating, so caring when he probably didn't even deserve it. He crawled slowly towards her, his exhaustion evident in his movements. He fell against her, needing her support, her touch. He leaned his head on her shoulder, resting his body against her own.
She wrapped her arms around his shivering frame comfortably. One hand was rubbing his back as the other went to his hair, playing with it slowly.
He leaned his head back into her shoulder some more, not resisting the hand playing with his soft hair. His exhaustion set in, as did the pain, but he was too overcome by warmth of the moment to mind.
This is what Draco had been missing. Just this. Being held, comforted, doted on. He felt like a child, in the worst way possible. His chest was tight, like something was squeezing his lungs shut. He needed to cry, but he refused; he was too stubborn, after all.
"You're safe here." She whispered into his hair, her grip on him not faltering. Draco felt a wave of relief upon hearing her whisper. She was right, he was safe here. In her arms, in her embrace, where he could trust her. There was no need to keep up any pretense of strength, or to hide his pain. He didn't need to be tough in front of her; it was a pleasant change.
They stayed like that for hours, her comforting him in his time of need, being his safe haven.
