Living In My Head (Drarry)

Chapter 54: Forgiven, Not Forgotten

A.N.
Chapter song: Falling (Instrumental) by Datsik
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Wednesday- Day 16

The morning came and Draco was not in his bed, and the room very... empty. The bed was made and the room was exceptionally neat, as though he'd cleaned after getting up. The thought made me sad, he didn't wake me. I got out of bed, not straightening the sheets, and returned to the window to look out over the property.

Including today, it's only 2 days until New Year's Eve. Draco's father will arrrive home that afternoon, and the thought makes me sick. How can I look a man in the face when he did that to his own son, especially since I love that stubborn son of his?

Snow was covering the ground, thick and unscathed by human prints. I didn't dare open the french doors, I closed the curtains and made my slow walk to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Even while brushing my teeth, I found myself wanting to visit Castiel but deciding he was better off not seeing me upset.

....

I skipped breakfast, going back to reading Sheep Corpses and War Drums, getting lost in the story. No one came to tell me to go downstairs, so I found myself worrying over Dobby. I hope he doesn't think I'm angry with him. I close the book and feel a pulsation in my head, a headache is coming on.

I could suffer through it, but that would be stupid. I stand, making my way to the hallway bathroom, instead of Draco's. There must be something here. Something helpful. Draco's is bare, save for the essential hygiene things.

I opened the medicine cabinet, greeted with prescriptions and medicines out the ying-yang. Jeez. You'd think they had their own private pharmacy. I take a glance at some of the bottles, hoping for something I could recognize.

Aderall, Xanax, Vallium, and some heavy-duty cough syrup... Jesus. This is a druggie's paradise. They're all prescribed to Lucius. This explains a lot. Maybe he's- no. This is none of my damn business.

I find a small box of ibuprofen and down a pill, dry. Felt like shit but, it'll help. I close the cabinet door and return to the small library. Draco's waiting for me, plate in-hand.

"You missed breakfast."

I shrugged, feeling a bit of shame clawing inside me, "I figured you didn't want me there."

"I'm hurt, Harry. I'm hurt because you saw I was bothered and instead of consoling me, you decided to get angry. You can't treat me like the bad guy, here." he told me, setting the plate on the window sill.

"I just wanted to know what happened. I'm frustrated because you don't trust me enough to tell me why your dad fucking hit you!" I half-yell, my throat dry and burning.

"It's not something I want you to worry about."

"Yeah," I hiss, "not my concern, right?"

"Don't you do that shit, Harry. Not to me."

"Then tell me!"

"Harry. My family doesn't have the most," he paused, taking a deep, shaking breath before running twitching fingers through his hair, "definitely not the most, clean-cut business in the industry. There are things that I can't tell you, things that could put you in danger."

"Then don't tell me. I just wanna know what happened."

"He hit me," he started.

"I figured that much."

"He hit me with a gun." he corrected.

Shock hit me like an anvil, "What?"

"It was when I was telling my father that you and I were getting close. That I wanted to begin dating you. He said it was impossible, that I was a disgrace to the family. So, in front of the family and colleagues, he pulled a gun from the back of his waistband and he hit me."

I could see tears rolling down his cheeks and I felt my heart curl in on itself. Oh god. I didn't meant to make him cry. I find myself speechless, reaching out to touch his bruised cheek but he flinches. I move my hand away. It must still hurt. Shit.

"Once I hit the ground, he kicked me a few times. I didn't break anything, I don't think, I'm going to the doctor's today to check but... it really hurts."

I didn't wait for his permission, pinching the material of his shirt between two fingers and pulling it up. God. He's covered in them. Bruises. There's at least 7 here. What was he fucking wearing, steel-toed boots?! And why didn't anyone fucking help him.

I let go of his shirt and glare at him, "You should've told me."

"And said what? 'Hey, Harry, my dad hit me with a pistol for defending your honor, hope you don't mind.' Yeah, right."

I looked at him skeptically, "My honor?"

"Can't say."

"Did you mean my literal honor or like the metaphor for my virginity or some shit?"

"Won't say."

I feel overcome with irritation again, "I forgive you, shithead, but you better make it up to me."

He nods, "I will. My appointment should be soon, so I'm going to head out. Please eat something, and pop in to see Dobby. He's worried about you."

"Sure, where can I find him?"

"The basement. He said he was cleaning today."

I nod, going to sit at the window to eat.

Draco seemed breathless, "I missed you, Harry. I still want to give us a try."

"Even with your dad?" I find my voice losing it's edge, it's brashness, as my voice quiets.

"He's my dad, not my dictator." He whispered, a wry smile distorting his features.

With that, he left me to myself and I ate my oatmeal in silence, staring out the window.

....

In a half-hour or so, I found myself walking slowly down the stone stairs to the basement, a shiver going up my spine. It was colder than the freezer isle down there.

There stood Dobby, an open book in his hands, just staring at the pages. Once my feet touched the concrete landing it was as though he's been shocked. His eyes shot to mine and a nervous smile crossed his face, eyes not leaving mine as he closed the book.

"Dobby, what's that?"

He shifted the book to the only piece of furniture, save for the bed, a small wooden bench no more than two feet long.

I kept watching him and a feeling of unease swept over me. Just what is he hiding?