Care : The Extended Version.
By : S.C.R
Notes : Here is the second part. Hope You like it.
Chapter Two
Harry jumped, on his feet in an instant, lighting the room with his wand, and looking around franticly as a scream startled him from his sleep. It hadn't been his scream though, and an instant later he was sprinting down the hall to the bedroom where Draco had been sleeping the passed three days. He shoved open the door, almost afraid that who ever had hurt the blond so badly to begin with had found him here. There was no one else in the room though.
Lowering his wand, Harry looked to the other male…He recognized that look.
Draco sat straight up in bed, blond hair matted down with a cold sweat, eyes wide in terror with tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't even see Harry standing in the door way, bloodshot hues staring down at his own hands as he gripped the sheets. Harry moved to the side of the bed, and Draco's attention snapped towards him in an instant. The blond flinched away, and though didn't say anything it was clear he did want the other male near him. A slow, shaky breath passed his chapped lips when Harry stepped back again.
It wasn't until the Gryffindor left the room, leaving the door open ever so slightly so he could see inside, that Draco relaxed slightly. His entire body had been rigid, fingers white from clenching the sheets, watching fearfully as Harry strayed too close. Green eyes peered through the crack in the door as Draco suddenly collapsed into a fit of tears, curling up in the bed, too afraid to close his eyes until finally he exhausted himself.
Harry had seen a lot of things both during the war and after it, but never like this. And he'd certainly never seen Draco in this state before. He'd caught the boy crying in their sixth year, but that was nothing compared to the utterly broken young man taking refuge in his house now.
Finally Harry turned and strode back to the guest room, going back to bed as well.
The next morning Harry pulled open the curtains to his bedroom window, a plate of food on the nightstand beside the bed, and Draco watching him silently with a groggy sort of confusion. He ate little more then half of the breakfast, but Harry didn't press the matter. He also didn't argue as Harry drew a bath, and offered his arm to help the other to the bathroom.
They didn't speak, and rarely even looked each other in the eyes. However, they had come to a sort of arrangement. For a week Harry took off work, tended to Draco without question or complaint, until he was sure that the other could be left on his own for a while. Harry returned to work, not concerned in the slightest about leaving the Malfoy heir in his home unattended. The blond was still weak, had no wand, and would be foolish to cause any trouble after Harry had done so much for him and with a word could have him dropped right into Azkaban where he belonged.
Of course, it was still a wonder that he hadn't done the later. Even Harry didn't know why he was so patient with the Slytherin. He deserved what he got, didn't he? Still – every time he looked at Draco he remembered when they were at school and that last year of the war. Honestly, looking back on it now, he didn't believe the blond had actually wanted to be a part of all that. It wasn't entirely his fault. Maybe he'd known that all along and that was why he'd always made a point to save Draco even when he
didn't deserve it. Maybe everyone had been right about Harry and he needed to be the savior, the hero, and now that the war was over, Draco was the only one left that he could do that for. Whatever the reason, it all remained his little secret.
Besides, he couldn't just send the other away until he had a few answers. He still wanted to know where Draco had been, and who was responsible for all his injuries. Once Harry knew that, he would be able to better decide how to handle him.
It had been six weeks and three days since Draco had shown up on his door step. He was actually looking healthy, and could move freely through the house as he pleased. When Harry had guests over, Draco would vanish into the guest bedroom and read or sleep, knowing he was a secret to be kept and seemingly content with that fact. None of that was what made this forty-fifth day of their little story different though.
"Morning…"
It had been soft and unsure, and Harry doubted for a moment that he'd even heard it. However, he glanced over at the bed where Draco sat, eating the breakfast that Kreacher had brought, and found the blond had paused looking at a spot Harry supposed was around the center of his chest. They still didn't look at each other properly, but his gaze was just enough to let Harry know that he hadn't been hearing things.
"Good Morning." He said in reply, to which Draco offered a slight incline of his head before going back to his breakfast. They were the first words exchanged between them since the night Draco had shown up here. It was the start of something. Of course neither of them realized this, but that single word had opened the door.
Harry sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room, drinking his morning coffee, and as if prompted by the greeting began to speak. It was nothing really. He talked about what the weather was like outside, and how he had a speech to give at Hogwarts today – "I was thinking of sticking around to watch a Quidditch match. You know, Slytherin won the house cup last year?" – idly commenting how he'd be back in time for dinner. He doubted Draco cared, but the blond nodded every so often or gave a small shrug of his shoulders. Harry took to mentioning when he would be home for dinner and when he wouldn't simply because during the former sometimes his silent companion would join him downstairs and they would both read from the newspaper while they ate or listen to the television. Harry never thought much of it, but had grown to like the company.
Nine weeks, four days, and twelve hours into their story marked the next level of this strange relationship forged between them. Draco's nightmares were few and far between by this point, but every so often Harry would hear the cries from down the hall, and would quietly seat himself on the side of the bed, smoothing the other male's hair back gently until he calmed down before returning to sleep
himself. Harry no longer questioned why he did these things, or why he cared, simply accepted that he did.
However, on this night, it was Harry's dreams that were plagued with nightmares of the past and people long since gone. It wasn't often that he had trouble sleeping like this, but every now and again something at work or in the news would settle the wrong way with him and bring up memories he had tried so hard to put aside.
He'd tossed and turned since the moment he'd laid down, murmuring things in his sleep, pleading with ghosts that weren't there, crying out in pain or grief until a gentle hand grasped his, fingers lacing together and stopping his movement. His dreams faded until all he could focus on was the smaller hand clasped within his own, and the cool touch across his forehead. When he stirred he looked up through half lidded eyes and met the passive silver gaze of his charge who had taken up Harry's usual role. There were still no words or explanation, Draco simply looked back at him for a long moment before rising and leaving the room. Harry slept soundly after that, and come morning things returned to the way they were except every so often emerald hues would look up at catch the other's gaze – something behind those pools of blue and silver was still broken, that almost made Harry want to turn away, but he wouldn't because there was also something comforting in that gaze, understanding…