It's exactly what Harry expects. Not front page stuff, but on the fourth page of the Daily Prophet is a short capture of him and Severus leaving the restaurant together. The whole article is conjecture on what they were doing together, and further conjecture on what both of them have done since the war.

Harry considers ripping the page out and hoping that Draco won't notice, but he knows better.

The fight is also exactly what Harry expects.

Draco accuses Harry of cheating, of everything imaginable. "Why didn't you just tell me you were going to see him, Harry? By keeping it a secret you force me to consider other possibilities..."

He wishes that he had just told Draco that he and Severus see each other occasionally. Maybe he wouldn't have taken it so badly.

Harry gets through it though, with only a slap. Those are familiar, they aren't world-ending. Honestly, Harry was expecting worse.

The worst part was that Draco threatened to take away Harry's ability to leave the house, but Harry had literally gotten down on his knees and begged, which served to convince Draco, at least for now.

It's Wednesday now, they fought on Tuesday. He didn't leave the house on Tuesday, but he did send his letter to Luna, which felt like a small act of rebellion.

He spends most of the day inside on Wednesday as well. He drifts toward the door several times but ends up on the couch with his head in his hands instead. Why can't I leave? He's been asking himself almost every day. I know I have the option, I know I'm miserable... So why?

Harry looks up at the black box on the mantle. He walks up to it and runs his fingers along the stone. There's a small crackle of green energy and the box radiates. This scares Harry and he steps away.

Draco made Harry's mess go away. He kept Harry's name out of the papers, for that at least, and kept his reputation from getting forever ruined.

I wouldn't do it again... but I didn't mean to do it in the first place.

It isn't until almost 4:15 that Harry finally leaves the house. He knows that he has to get outside today, at least once, and that if he doesn't leave now he'll miss his chance. Just a walk around the block, that's all he needs.

Directly outside his front door, by coincidence only, Harry knocks over Charlie Weasley.

His hands are full of books, stacked precariously, that topple to the ground. Harry rushes to help pick them up, neither of them even recognizing each other until they stand up with hands full of books and see the other's face.

"Harry!" Charlie shouts in surprise, a happy grin taking over his face.

"Charlie," Harry is equally as excited to see the man, but his emotions are muted, dampened by his life. He still manages a bit of a smile at least.

"I've actually been meaning to write to you, but this is way better. Is this your house? Can I come in?" He asks instantly, and ever a Weasley, Charlie steps around Harry and opens the door, inviting himself into Harry and Draco's house. Harry follows after the man with his books.

"Ah, we're having guests over soon so I can't chat too long." Harry lies and stacks Charlie's books by the entryway. "What are these at any rate?" He asks, looking through a few tomes on the basics of care for Mysticoads?

Charlie blushes and has a mischievous look on his face. "Well, Luna's been really into these frog things recently and I, well, I'm kind of trying to get her to go out with me so I thought I'd impress her."

Harry smiles, and it feels easy to do so around Charlie, around any Weasley, really. Harry bets he could even crack a grin around Percy right now. "She'll love that, mate."

"Hopefully, she is awfully uh, odd."

"You sure you don't mean completely bonkers?"

"That too." Charlie agrees with a huff and stacks the rest of his books where Harry set the first ones.

"How long have you been home for? I saw Ron on Friday and he didn't even mention it."

Charlie drifts into the house like he owns the place and finds the living room right off the entryway, taking a seat on Harry's couch. "I just got back in today, listen, don't mention it if you see my family, they don't think I get back till tomorrow." He admits, sheepishly.

"Don't tell me you lied to your mom so you could go talk about toads with Luna." Harry deadpans.

"She's cute alright!" Charlie defends himself.

"Yeah, you guys would be good together." Harry feels another pang at the thought of a happy couple.

"Anyway, what I came in here to tell you is that we have a baby about to hatch at the conservatory. We're short a dragon tamer and I was going to ask if you wanted to come out to Romania for a few months."

Harry's eyebrows go up to his hairline. "What? Don't I need, like, qualifications to do that?"

Charlie shrugs. "Well, yeah, but we're pretty short-handed and you're a bloody powerful wizard, a baby dragon is no match for you. Unless he burns you, I guess, or tosses you off his back. But otherwise, totally safe."

He narrows his eyes at Charlie. "And you just happened to think of me for this position."

Surprisingly, Charlie gives himself up immediately. "No actually, I was in a Floo call with Ron and Hermione last week and they suggested I ask you."

Harry grumbles.

"They been meddling a lot recently?" Charlie asks.

"You wouldn't believe."

Charlie just laughs. "Well then, no offense taken if you're not interested, they really made it sound like you needed something to do."

"Sorry Charlie, it does sound kind of fun actually, I'm just not able to go away for so long right now."

"Hey, no problem mate. There'll always be more dragons. I've gotta jet off to Luna now, though."

Charlie stands and Harry is very glad that it wasn't very hard to get the man out of his apartment, he was expecting a lot more small talk and awkwardly saying 'well...' until Charlie finally got the hint.

Harry glances at the clock on the mantle, Perfect, it's not even 4:45. He stands as well to lead Charlie out right as the Floo roars to life and Draco steps out.

The look on Draco's face is instant and gut-wrenching.

"Ah, hello Draco!" Charlie greets easily.

"Weasley," Draco nods, Harry's ninety percent sure that Draco doesn't even know Charlie's name.

"Well Harry, it's been a pleasure, I'll see you again before I go back."

And then, to Harry's utter hatred, Charlie pulls him into a tight hug. Harry very awkwardly returns the hug before Charlie is scurrying out the front door with his books and a 'see ya!'

Harry starts shaking before the door even closes.

Draco doesn't lay a hand on Harry or yell at him, he does something much, much worse.

The next day they move back to the manor. "You've been pushing too far Harry. I'm worried you're going to hurt yourself or someone else."

Harry wanted to pull his hair out, but he felt like a robot after Charlie left and just nodded, packing up his meager belongings and apparating with Draco back "home."

It's been three weeks. The wards are back up completely, Harry can't leave the grounds. Not that there's anywhere to go if he could. The only thing Draco doesn't take away is Harry's access to the potions lab, but Harry honestly isn't even sure Draco remembered he's been brewing potions, so it's not a big victory.

Three weeks without being able to see anyone other than Draco.

Harry tries to keep the peace. He really, really tries. He never speaks out of turn, he always has dinner ready, and he has been sleeping with Draco almost every night.

Nothing is working. Draco is angry. Every small mistake sets him into a rage. There's no one around so no glamour needs to go up, and Harry is always covered in bruises. His face, his chest, his ass, his neck. He feels like a freak when he looks in the mirror.

On Monday, the first day of the third week since moving, Harry can't take the loneliness anymore. He's received no letters, not even from Luna, and certainly not from Severus.

So Harry sits down, temporarily not giving a shit that Draco might be able to read the letters he sends. What's the worst he could do? Rape me? Harry thinks, dryly.

The Hogwarts term has already started. It's early September now.

Severus,

I'm sorry it's been so long, and I'm sorry I left the way I did. We've moved back to the manor so I can't make it out as often as I could. I don't know what else to say.

I hope classes are going well,

Harry.

Draco doesn't say anything. Harry even prepares himself for the beating, but nothing comes. Except a letter from Severus, two days later.

Harry,

Gods I was so worried. Are you alright? Who am I kidding? I know you're not alright. It's taking every fiber of my resolve to not just come to get you.

Yours,

Severus

Severus,

Did they find a new DADA professor? Someone better than Lockhart I hope. Are the first years as dreadful as always? I miss Hogwarts. Curling up in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room sounds lovely right now. Is that sad of me, that I miss school so much? Probably. Well, not school really. Just the environment, the people, the sounds. Never lonely.

I'm ok,

Harry.

Harry,

Minerva had to hire a temporary professor. He's alright, retired Durmstrang. He only agreed to teach for the year, then she'll have to find someone new, again. Oddly enough, I just happen to know someone who would be perfect for the job. I know you're avoiding my other questions. That's alright. I'll take what I can get.

The first years are... surprisingly tolerable. Maybe it's because I'm used to students as terrible as you. And I miss my Hogwarts days as well... some of them at least. The latter years not so much, but there are memories I'd choose to live in.

I miss your potions help,

Severus

Harry never really has any idea how to respond to Severus' letters. He feels like a stupid kid around the man sometimes, but they've had a solid back-and-forth over the past two weeks. Severus responds promptly, just as prompt as Harry, which makes hope glimmer in his chest that maybe Severus is just as excited to receive a letter from him as he is.

Harry also worried that maybe Severus just feels responsible for him. He threw himself at Severus those weeks ago after Draco beat him, and now maybe he's forced Severus into this protector role against his will.

I miss your potions help. That isn't a line a man forced to be his friend against his will would write... At least Harry's pretty sure. He has a poor grasp of how most relationships are supposed to function.

It's been a month and a half at the manor. Hogwarts has been in session for at least two weeks now. Harry missed his chance to run away and get the job as the Defence professor, not that he really thought he would be capable of it in the state he's in currently.

It's a Friday night, Draco informed him before leaving for work that morning that they would go out for dinner. Harry tucks the letter from Severus away in between the pages of his potions book. He spends a lot of time in the brewing room recently and Draco's never snooped through it before. He can't bear to flush the letters like he used to, now that it's impossible for him to actually see Severus, these are his only connections to him. He's never really been one for "collecting" in the past, but now he considers his two letters, book, and brewing equipment. They're somewhat of a collection. A sad, lonely man's collection.

Back in their bedroom Harry gets dressed and tries to make himself look nice for Draco. There are no visible marks on his face anymore and a black turtleneck covers up everything unsightly. He pairs it with a usual pair of blue jeans, too loose on him now, cinched with a belt.

Draco gets home a little late, but he's in a good mood when he steps through the floo, placing a kiss on the top of Harry's head and smiling. Harry's come to think of Draco's moods as black and white. Sometimes he's good, predictable, other times he's... Well. Tonight is a good night, Harry can already tell. When Draco's in a good mood he might get handsy, or be a little rough, but he's never as terrible as he can be.

They don't go out to a wizarding place, instead, Draco calls them a car to drive to one of the quaint towns that dot Wiltshire, a short drive away from the manor. The muggle world feels safer sometimes, Harry doesn't have to do any pretending or preening for the press, and there's no ever-present worry of running into somebody that he knows.

In the back of the car Draco holds Harry's hand, fiddling with his simple gold wedding ring. The engagement ring had been far more ostentatious, with three diamonds and a delicate, feminine-type band. Harry had made Draco promise to tone it down with the actual wedding rings.

They find a small hole-in-the-wall to eat at. Draco continues in his good mood.

"How's your brewing been going, Harry?"

The question surprises him, and catches him off guard. Though at this point Harry realizes he should never be caught off guard by Draco, the man is impossible to understand. "Good, I'm getting pretty competent, I think."

"That's good Harry, I'm glad you've found something you like doing."

Harry lets a little smile curl into his cheek and Draco, dressed very handsomely in a blue button-down and brown trousers, returns the smile. "Let me know if you need me to order you anything. Maybe we can take a trip to Diagon Alley next weekend for some shopping?"

"Yes," Harry answers immediately, excitement filling him. "I mean, that would be very nice, Draco." The excitement had only come because Harry connects Diagon Alley with Severus, but there's no chance Harry will be able to see him. Not with Draco.

The waitress comes by. Harry hasn't even bothered to look at the menu, Draco orders for him without a beat and the preppy server has the audacity to look at them like they're a cute couple.

"Oh, you're not going to believe this." Draco baits.

Harry raises an eyebrow.

"I saw Pansy Parkinson today."

Harry groans. "Oh God, I was hoping she'd left the country by now."

Draco laughs and they make eye contact. Easy, comfortable eye contact. Harry loves Draco's eyes. "We couldn't be so lucky.

They start into an easy, bantering conversation about whether or not Pansy will ever get over Draco dumping her and getting together with Harry. She won't, most likely, but it's a familiar conversation. It flows naturally. They talk about funny things that happened in school and Draco shares a couple of things that he did at work this week. They don't step on each other's toes, navigate seamlessly through bad memories, and by the end of dinner Harry has a hard time remembering why he's ever wanted to leave Draco.

Draco pays, of course, and they walk out into the crisp autumn air.

"Home, then?" Harry asks.

Draco thinks for a few moments. "It's Friday, how about a few drinks?"

"Oh, I don't know, Dray," Harry says, really not in the mood to go out and get drunk.

"Harry." Draco gets his attention, squeezing his hand, too hard almost. "I've had work all week, don't tell me you're too tired."

Draco leaves no room for argument so Harry lets himself be led through the small downtown. It's just past eight in the evening but the lane is lit up with black street lamps, it's a nice town that appears to have a lively nightlife.

Finally, they end up in front of an Irish pub, O'Donaghues, which also happens to be the loudest and most cramped bar on the strip.

Draco weaves them through the crowd of people, holding Harry by the hand. He doesn't like the feeling of people pressing against him, touching him, even just by accident. Draco again orders for both of them, not beers like usual, cocktails. Their gin and tonics are served in comically large glasses and Harry stares down at what he can't imagine is only two standard shots of liquor.

They cheers each other. Harry is a little lackluster, then both take sips of their drinks. It's good, disguising the taste of the alcohol very well.

Back into the crowd, Draco leads them toward the furthest corner of the pub, finding them one of the last booths. It's in a corner, arcing around a circular table. The seating is so cramped that their thighs are pressed up against each other and they look out at the rest of the bar patrons.

They continue chatting, but Harry isn't as invested anymore. His responses serve to continue the conversation instead of being genuinely interested now. If Draco notices, he doesn't comment.

The area directly in front of them is a dance floor and people slowly congregate on it as they get more and more intoxicated. There's no live music, just a jukebox playing music that everyone seems to like.

Draco drains his drink, Harry is barely halfway done with his. Draco nudges him in the ribs. "Catch up." He says, sounding teasing and playful.

Harry nods and finishes his drink in two big gulps.

"Go get us another round?" Draco asks, looking at Harry with his big eyes and pleading face. He looks sweet.

"Yeah, of course." He pecks Draco on the lips and Draco passes Harry his wallet.

Winding through the dance floor is incredibly difficult and Harry hates feeling like everyone is staring at him, even though they're all probably too drunk to notice.

At the bar, Harry orders two of the same and tips well. Not his money.

It takes a while to get the drinks, it's insanely busy, and by the time he heads back the dance floor looks like an impenetrable wall. Harry gulps and grabs the glass cups securely before trying to weave his way through.

He's on the other end and can see Draco when a man much, much larger than Harry puts his hands on Harry's hips. Harry is facing away, toward Draco and the man is at his back.

The man is seriously huge and has to lean down to whisper in Harry's ear while drunkenly swaying against Harry's ass: "Wanna dance?"

"Uh, no, sorry, here with someone." He responds quickly and pulls away from the man. On his first step, the man doesn't let go, but the second time Harry tugs he does let go and disappears back into the crowd.

Harry feels frazzled when he sits back down next to Draco and Draco is laughing. "Didn't know I'd have competition for my husband tonight." Draco takes his drink. Harry sighs in relief, at least Draco isn't mad about it, it's not like Harry had invited the touching.

"Don't worry, no competition. He's not my type." Harry jokes back.

Draco looks back over at where he can just barely see the man, standing a head taller than most people on the dance floor. "Good thing he wasn't pushy, he looks like he could take you whether you like it or not."

Draco says it so casually, in the same jovial tone as before, that Harry is genuinely confused. "What?" He asks.

"You know," Draco clarifies, "he just looks like he could force you if he wanted."

"Oh," Harry responds and looks down at his drink. Draco's words make his skin crawl as he thinks of his own violation. Why would Draco say that?

Now that the image is in his mind, thrown onto the floor, hands bound, Draco behind him, Harry can't stop thinking about it. His eyes go unfocused on his drink, his brain feels hazy.

"Harry?" Draco gets his attention. Harry's eyes snap to his, and Draco looks concerned. "Are you alright?"

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but the only Draco he can see in front of him is the Draco from that night. He closes his mouth.

Draco instantly melts and Harry can see him clearly again. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry, I've upset you." He puts an arm around Harry's shoulders and presses a kiss on his cheek. "It was just a joke, don't take it seriously."

Harry nods. Just a joke. I don't need to get so worked up, he didn't mean it like that.

They go back to their drinks, Harry tries to drink quicker now, wanting to feel a little bit more numb, more comfortable.

Draco gets their next round and returns with two more giant glasses and two small glasses, barely balancing all of them in his hands. Draco sets a glass and a shot in front of Harry with a wolfish grin. "Tequila?"

Harry doesn't think about it, just bounces the shot once on the table and takes it in time with Draco.

"Oh blimey," Draco's face turns. "I forgot to get limes."

Harry has a similar expression on his face and takes a few sips of his gin and tonic to try and offset the tequila taste.

They finish those drinks and Harry is fairly intoxicated by this point. He lets Draco take him by the hand and pull him onto the dance floor. There's some song he's never heard playing. Usually, he doesn't like to dance, but he's just drunk enough that swaying with Draco doesn't seem too hard.

Neither of them dances very well, mostly just holding onto each other and occasionally pressing sloppy kisses to the other's cheeks, necks, or lips. Harry feels like they're in their own bubble, no one else is paying any attention to them.

Draco's hands rove over Harry's body and Harry has his arms loosely around Draco's waist.

Draco's hands become more insistent, pressing against his skin. Then Draco pinches a spot, just above Harry's hip, where there's a dark and painful bruise.

His lips twist in discomfort but Draco doesn't say anything, just pecks his lips again.

The next touch is Draco grabbing a handful of Harry's ass which causes him to suck in a small gasp. There's a harsh carpet burn there, from Draco throwing him out of bed the other day.

"Draco," Harry protests.

Then, Draco's hand is under his shirt and his nicely manicured fingers grab at the curve of Harry's waist forcefully. Harry has to bite down to keep from letting out an actual whimper. Draco's nails dig in and pull forward. Harry falls forward, his face against Draco's shoulder, he muffles his voice with Draco's shirt.

When Draco pulls his hand away Harry feels a wetness on his side. It can't be much blood, but it is blood.

Harry looks back into Draco's eyes. There's no change. They're not the dark, stormy eyes that Harry's become so afraid of. The expression on his face is gentle, with a smile.

Harry thinks over all the off interactions they've had tonight, then a sinking anxiety forms in his stomach. There is no good Draco and bad Draco, I'm so fucking childish.

There's just Draco, and this is who Draco is.

Sev,

Maybe your students are better because you're not quite so mean. You're much softer than when I was a first-year. Old age is doing wonders for you. Tell me something about yourself that I don't know. That nobody knows.

I miss helping with potions,

Harry.

Harry,

My father was abusive. Only Lilly knew that. I don't like to talk about it. I can't believe I'm even telling you right now. Not as bad as... you know, but still. Lilly was very good about it, she always knew what to say to make it just a little bit better. I wish I had her wisdom, sorry you're stuck with me.

I'm only 41,

Severus

Sev,

I can't believe you told me two things that no one else knows. I mean, you being 41 has to be the wizarding world's best-kept secret. How are you not London's most eligible bachelor?

I wish my mom were here too. For a lot of reasons. At the same time, though, everything would be different if she was alive. Would that be a good thing? I don't know. It keeps me up at night sometimes.

I'm sorry that happened to you. My uncle Vernon was similar. How do you do that to a child?

We're both a little fucked up,

Harry.

"Harry,

Ha. I'm flattered, but I think you're the one going soft in your old age. I'm not the one who's been on the cover of Wizard's Weekly. And, sorry, I've forgotten, which one of us was 'Hottest Wizard Alive'?

It's hard to think about what could be if things had gone differently. Instead, think about what you could change right now. Yes. You know what I mean.

No appointment necessary,

Sev."

Harry started crying the moment Draco picked up the letter. It's the first time one of Severus' letters arrives on a Saturday and the first time Draco has gotten to it before Harry.

"God fucking damn it Harry? So I was right? You have been sleeping around? I let you out of the house a few hours a day and this is what you do?" Draco shouts the words through closed, gritted teeth.

Harry is crumpled in a ball on the floor. He's sobbing, not even attempting to respond to Draco.

He knows by now that there's nothing he can possibly say that will fix this situation.

Harry peeks his eyes open and Draco is crouched in front of him, pinching the bridge of his nose like he has a headache. His voice softens, "Harry, love, just tell me if you cheated on me."

"I didn't," Harry says, as loud and forceful as he can manage. "I wouldn't."

"Fuck!" Draco yells, standing up from his squat and landing a kick right in Harry's side, knocking him to the ground.

Harry catches himself on his elbow to break his fall.

"You know what you've done, Harry?" Draco asks, he doesn't bother to respond, knowing that Draco will continue anyway. "You've made it so I can't trust you. You did so much sneaking around and fucking around that I can't even trust you." Draco sounds almost hysterical now, manic.

Harry pulls himself up onto his knees, sitting in a submissive position in front of Draco. "Please Draco, you know you can trust me. I've told you the truth about everything."

"What about Snape? You're just 'learning potions from him'?" Draco mimics Harry's voice in a cruel caricature.

"Yes! I was talking to him about potions and we were just chatting like friends. Please Draco, I'm allowed to have friends, aren't I? He's your godfather." Harry beseeches, looking up at Draco with wide, sad eyes.

Draco considers for a minute and Harry feels his hopes start to rise a bit. He's not insane, I can reason with him, Harry reassures himself. I just have to get out of this situation and I'll leave.

Suddenly, Draco's face contorts back into a rage and he kicks Harry in the stomach. Harry scrambles backward and up to his feet, but doubles over as his stomach cramps from the force of the blow.

Draco is between him and the front door, and Harry doesn't know if his wandless magic is good enough to get through the wards again right now, so instead he turns to dash further into the house.

They lay chance for a few minutes, Harry is faster than Draco but already injured.

Harry isn't quite sure what his plan was, because eventually, he ends up at a dead end. They're in a grand office at the far end of the manor from where they'd been. Harry is back against the far wall.

Draco's hair is wild and messy around his face, he huffs a few breaths as he approaches Harry.

Harry's magic crackles, then, the same as if had before. The lights flicker and there's an audible static in the air.

I just need to get out the window, he thinks, and then what? Run ten miles to town?

Draco backs off a little when he notices Harry's magic, at least smart enough to be wary of one of the most powerful wizard's accidental magic.

Harry focuses the magic into his hands, as he'd done before, and turns back toward the window. At least he has a chance if he gets out of the manor. Otherwise, they'll be playing endless cat and mouse.

His hands start to glow a faint green. His left hand is on the lock of the tall stained glass window.

It unlatches, he breaks the ward, and then the glass shatters with a blinding force as something pummels into it

Harry shouts in pain, almost letting out a real scream.

A Beater Bat has smashed into Harry's elbow, hitting his arm at such a speed that it propels it into the window and shatters it.

Harry stumbles back a few steps and looks at his arm. It's mangled and bloody with glass sticking out of his forearm. His elbow is at an unnatural angle.

Harry's magic flickers one more time, weakly, but the pain is so great that he can't focus on his magic anymore.

The blood runs in a steady stream as Harry takes more and more steps backward. He looks at Draco, holding the bat, in horror.

Harry trips over a chair leg and topples to the ground. Landing on his arm, the pain is so complete, so all-consuming that the remaining strength leaves his body. Waves of agony rack through him as he curls in on himself. His vision goes completely brown, he can't see anything, but everything is spinning nonetheless.

There's the sound of Draco's boots approaching him, a spell, and then nothing.

Harry wakes up sometime later to two people fluttering around him, his arm being painfully moved, but then is given a potion and falls back into a dreamless sleep.

He wakes up again to bright sunlight, and a foreign feeling in his lower body. His limbs are heavy, addled from some kind of draught he was given last night.

The glare of sunlight blinds Harry for a few moments but then he feels something wet.

Scrambling to sit up, Harry tweaks his elbow and gasps at the pain in his ribs. There are hands on his hips that hold him still as Harry finally places the feeling in his lower body- Draco's fingers in his arse.

Harry's body cringes as he again tries to move away from Draco's ministrations. "Harry," Draco says sternly. "You'll hurt yourself."

He wants to laugh or cry at that, but can't muster the energy.

Draco is right though, he can't get away. His legs are still half asleep and pinned under Draco's weight, the muscles in his abdomen are too weak, and he only has the use of one arm.

Blinking, Harry looks to his side. There's an empty potion bottle that reads Somnium Sedative. He can almost laugh at the irony. Draco must have had a medi-witch from St. Mungo's.

The fingers leave him, Harry lets his body collapse back onto the pillows. Fighting will just make it worse.

Draco's cock quickly replaces the fingers and Harry goes completely limp. Draco hikes Harry's legs up around his hips and drives himself into Harry's loosened and sloppy body.

His eyes go unfocused. For once, Harry reaches up and takes his glasses off of his own accord, distancing himself from the world.

He can barely feel Draco sliding in and out of him, the sedative potion has given him pins and needles.

Harry's only brought back to reality when a pillow is placed over his face. It's not harsh or smothering, Harry assumes Draco got tired of looking at his slack-jawed blank expression.

It doesn't last terribly long, Draco's clearly not trying to drag it out. Harry feels the man shudder, his legs quivering a bit, and then he's coming inside. Harry hates the fact that he knows Draco's tells so well, and can perfectly picture the face Draco is making as if the pillow weren't even there.

Draco tosses the pillow to the side and steadies his eyes on Harry's bandaged arm for a moment before getting out of bed. He draws the curtains all the way open so the room is plainly illuminated.

Harry very slowly sits all the way up. It's hard: one arm is wrapped top to bottom in bandages and barely mobile; his abdomen is so badly bruised he gasps for breath. "Is it broken?" Harry rasps.

"It was, the healer fixed it, but it was a bad break so it will take another week to fully heal." He explains, coolly, not sounding peeved at all. Draco steals a look at Harry again before getting dressed for the day.

"So that's it, then?" Harry asks.

Draco looks like he has no idea what Harry's talking about.

"You break my arm and we just move on? Should I make breakfast, too?" He leaves out the 'rape me,' can't say it out loud.

"That would be a good start." Draco quips, shooting the retort out like a bullet, sharp.

Harry is at a loss for words. He gets up, too, finally, and wipes at the mess coming out of him. He pulls his pants on, one-handed, and struggles with his shirt, trying to gently weave his limp and almost useless arm through the hole. Draco doesn't offer to help.

"Don't you have to go to work?" Harry asks.

"I'm going in late."

Harry leaves the room without another word. He can't look at Draco right now. It doesn't seem like he cares. If anything, he's just as angry.

The house elves prepared breakfast this morning and fix Harry an extra large plate. He thanks them, genuinely, and sits down to eat. It's awkward and clunky, Draco broke the wrong arm. Or exactly the arm he wanted to break.

Harry keeps one eye on Draco as he comes into the kitchen and gets his own breakfast. Draco glances up at Harry every once in a while, Harry can't read the expression. What does it matter anyway?

They don't say anything at all.

It's worse, in a way. At least with previous beatings, Harry could rely on Draco's guilt to make things better for a few days. There hasn't been one teary-eyed 'I'm sorry,' not even an 'I'll never do it again.'

Draco's eyes linger on Harry when he stands up. His eyes look sad. Harry waits for it, but it doesn't come.

Draco drifts toward the floo and gives one more long, undiscernible look to Harry.

As soon as Draco steps through, Harry is moving.