Harry dithered just on the other side of the door. His mind attempted to distract him, reflecting that he really should stop dithering. Shameful habit, dithering.
Now I sound like Draco.
That thought broke through his distraction, reminding him of why he was there, hesitating outside a room in St. Mungo's. Draco, it all came back to Draco. Harry set his shoulders and pushed open the door.
Draco lay awake, staring at the ceiling with haunted eyes. His head snapped toward Harry as the door fell shut with a faint click. A smile spread across his face, then faltered a bit.
"You came back." It sounded more like a question than a statement, and a scared one at that. Harry couldn't take it. He crossed to the bed in two steps, falling to his knees and taking Draco's hand in both of his.
"Yes, of course," he whispered, pressing the hand to his lips. "I'm so sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared, so scared, and I had to talk to Regulus, but I'm back, and I'm not leaving until I can take you with me, understand?"
Draco reached his free hand across to cup Harry's cheek. When Harry met his eyes, the fear was gone, replaced by a joy that he didn't understand but was nonetheless happy to see.
"Of course," Draco smiled. "I love you, Harry." Harry pressed the hand to his lips again, closing his eyes tightly to hold back tears.
"I love you, too. So, so much."
"Will you stay with me while I sleep?" Draco asked tentatively. Harry could understand his fear of unconsciousness, of slipping back into a coma, maybe for good.
"Of course," he answered. "Do you want me to do anything?"
"Will you hold me?" Draco blushed a bit, and Harry realized how alive it made him look, that touch of pink.
Forever, he thought, shucking his outer robe to climb into the bed next to Draco, wrapping his arms around the man's waist. I'll hold you for forever.
There, safe in the comfort of each other's arms, both men finally allowed gentle sleep to claim them.
-0-0-0-
When Draco woke again, Harry was sitting on the edge of the tiny hospital bed, turned away with his head in his hands. He touched his back gently, letting Harry know he was awake.
"What's wrong?"
"The dreams," Harry answered in a voice filled with pain. "They never end. I can never stop watching it."
"Watching what?"
"People dying in the War. You bleeding. Theo dying, or the look in his eyes when they-" He cut off, the muscles in his back rigid with stress. Then he took a deep breath, blowing out hard. "I need to tell you about that. I can't keep anymore secrets from you."
"No, Harry, you don't ne-"
"Yes, I do!" Draco's hand began to tingle where it touched Harry and he snatched it back. Harry sighed. "I'm sorry. But I do have to tell you. I can't make the same mistakes I made before."
Harry scooted back onto the bed to lay down next to Draco. Draco arranged them so he lay partway across Harry's chest with his arms around his waist.
"Then tell me everything," he whispered. "I won't say anything. I'll just be here and listen," he promised. He felt Harry take another deep breath, chest rising, then he began.
Draco listened with increasing horror and sadness. He knew Harry's story wouldn't have a happy ending, but he wasn't expecting this, this tale of torture and madness and a silence more defiant than any words.
He felt a brief flash of jealousy any time Harry spoke of Theo, but it was always tempered by empathy for the pain and hopelessness Harry must have felt. The man who had seemed so strong could hardly make it through the telling of Theo's death, openly crying as he choked the words out.
Draco forgave Harry for all the secrets he kept, in the end. Knowing what he did now, he knew how the world would react if the story got out. Harry had kept secrets out of necessity, only trying to move on with his life.
-0-0-0-
Silence fell, heavy yet brittle, when Harry finished speaking. Draco didn't look at him, staring at the wall instead. Harry freed a hand to wipe away his tears.
"I would say I'm sorry, but it sounds so…inadequate," Draco said eventually. "Sorry can't make it all untrue, so what's the point of it, anyway?"
Harry smiled weakly, recognizing the paraphrasing of his own words.
"Will you show me the scars when we get home?" Draco asked.
"I'll show you anything," Harry answered. They were quiet again, but this silence was easier, a simple sharing of company between people who know there are no words that can be said without sounding false and hollow. Harry could finally relax, knowing that he wasn't truly alone and that Draco wouldn't turn away from him because of his past.
"Thank you for telling me," Draco said eventually. Then he yawned. Harry chuckled quietly.
"Sleep, Draco. I'll see about going home when you're awake again." Harry ran his free hand through fine silver-blond locks. Draco said nothing, only burrowing his face into the crook of Harry's neck. His breathing slowed and very soon he was asleep.
Harry skimmed his fingertips across Draco's back, dipping down to lightly touch the raised scar on his stomach. He hated that scar, and he hated himself for causing it, and he hated the whole situation he had put them in.
But he didn't hate that he had finally told Draco everything. He felt lighter, freer now. He didn't have to hold anything back from Draco anymore. He didn't have to hide his scars, worried that Draco might be disgusted by them or, worse, ask questions.
The Healer came in while Draco slept. She scowled as she looked at them, cuddled together with Harry running his fingers through Draco's hair.
"Yes?" Harry asked with a cool look.
"He's free to leave with you as soon as he's awake." Her scowl didn't lift and she made no attempt to keep her voice quiet.
"Very well, thank you." It was a clear dismissal. Harry didn't care what other people thought privately about Draco, but he had no desire for them to spew their misinformed opinions to his face, especially around Draco. The Healer scowl deepened and she sniffed, but she turned and left nonetheless.
-0-0-0-
Draco eased himself onto the sitting room couch, still slightly sore. Charlie brought the boys in, and they rushed up to him, clutching at his hands and arms and legs, but carefully avoiding his stomach. They talked over and around each other, telling him what they had been doing for the past two weeks.
Harry sat down next to Draco, leaning into him and putting an arm around his shoulders. Charlie sat in the chair next to them, smiling and talking and laughing with Harry. Eventually, Winky came in to usher the overexcited boys out to the garden with promises of sunshine, leaving the three of them to talk.
"You two should visit the Burrow soon," Charlie said bluntly. Harry frowned.
"Why?" Draco asked, curious despite himself.
"Mum's worried. About the both of you," he added, cutting Harry off when he opened his mouth to reply.
"Worried about…me?" Draco could hardly believe that he and Charlie got on, much less that the Weasley matriarch would fret over him while he was in St. Mungo's.
"Yes, about you," Charlie teased. "Mum's not blind, she could tell you were important to Harry here already when he brought you over on his birthday." Harry flushed pink.
"She told me he had never brought anyone over before," Draco mused. Harry was now bright red and studying the far wall with an interest too deep to be true.
"I haven't," he murmured.
"Mum can't ignore the way the rest of the family feels about you just because Harry's with someone who isn't Ginny. I like you, Teddy adores you, which makes Bill and Fleur like you, George has been talking about how you aren't a half-bad bloke, even Dad can see that you aren't your father."
"But what about Ronald and Granger and Ginerva?" Harry huffed but didn't say anything. Charlie frowned, frustrated with his younger siblings.
"Gin and Ron can't move on from their school days, and Hermione, smart as she is, is a bigot with an irrational dislike of traditional purebloods."
"She and I haven't really gotten on since I claimed my titles," Harry added softly. "Before you got here, we'd fight about that. Every week she had a new reason why I should get a 'real' job, like her and Ron." He snorted. "Ron wouldn't talk to me for weeks after I told him I wasn't going into the Auror Academy with him, and Hermione wanted me to go into the Minister's office as part of his staff and use my fame to work up the ladder. Neither of them realize the good I'm using my fame for in the Wizengamot, not that those stuffy old coots care much about my name." Charlie snorted.
"So I'm not splitting you and your friends up?" Draco asked, needed the clarification. Selfish Slytherin he may be, but he had still felt a bit guilty being the cause of fighting amongst the Golden Trio.
"No. I started that three years ago, when I wouldn't tell them anything except that I was going to put my effort into being a noble. If anything, you're finally ending the fighting. If they can't accept me and you, then maybe it really is time we parted ways."
Harry's tone was nonchalant in the extreme, but his arm was stiff around Draco's shoulders, belying his sadness and stress at losing his first friends. Charlie got up and clapped him on the back.
"Good on you, mate. Maybe that's just the push they need to finally grow up."
"Thanks, Charlie," Harry grinned, relaxing a bit. "Tell Molly I'll- we'll stop by later this week."
-0-0-0-
Harry and Draco went to bed early that night, still exhausted by their stay at St. Mungo's. As they dressed for bed, Draco caught Harry's wrist.
"Will you show me your scars now?"
Harry swallowed hard. There was a reason he wore a shirt when he was with Draco, though he didn't when he slept alone. The scars were disgusting, even three years old. Yes, Draco knew about them now, but knowing and seeing were two different things.
Hesitantly, he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing old cuts and shiny burns crossing his chest and back. Standing there, next to Draco's own pale beauty, he had never felt more disfigured. He closed his eyes, unwilling to see the revulsion he knew was coming in Draco's eyes.
He jumped when he felt careful touches trace across his chest. Looking down, he watched as pale fingers slid across the smooth, burned flesh, patterned like the links of the chains it had come from.
"You aren't ugly," Draco whispered. Harry tried to force words past the lump of fear and doubt in his throat.
"No?"
"No." Draco leaned in, kissing the scars, breathing his words across them. "You're strong."
A/N: I left out the story Harry tells Draco about his past for a reason: it's super long. I made a prequel instead! If you still have questions, they can probably be answered by reading that story, Inked Bones, Inked Veins.