Freud and his Friends - 11 - The Morning After
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Harry woke up feeling like he had just survived a battle. His head hurt, his muscles complained of excessive exertion, the knuckles on his right hand hurt for some reason, he had a bitter taste in his mouth, and over it all in his gut he knew something was horribly wrong. What's worse - he remembered what was so wrong.
He turned his head towards the side of the bed over which he left Draco. A familiar blond head rested on the pillow next to his, the still clothed arms hugging the pillow in which the face was hidden. They both lay above the sheets, and he could see the Draco's lower body exposed by the still-lowered pant. The pale skin was black-and-blue all over, the largest blue mark forming on the lower back, and then… blood and dried come covering the discolored thighs, which were lying slightly spread, as much as the pants around his booted ankles would allow, showing the even worse damage in between them.
Harry felt sick. He rushed off the bed, trying to be careful not to shift it to much, not wanting to disturb the victimized boy next to him, and ran to the bathroom, losing his battle with nausea before he got to the toilet bowl, and splattering the putrid contents of his stomach on the tile mat next to it. At length finishing the retching he moved the soiled mat away from himself, leaning on the wall, breathing hard, smelling his own stench. Finally finding the strength to get up he hefted himself up, leaning on the wall, stumbling back, searching for his wand.
Finally finding it on the scene of the crime, among his own scattered clothes, he lifted it and turned to tend to his… boyfriend? Victim?
He cast most of the healing spells he learned in his training, that same training that helped him to do this to his victim. He cast a few pain killing and cleaning spells as well, and only then did he cast the monitoring spell to see if there were any injuries left - as he was too scared to cast it to begin with, fearing to know the exact extent of what he did.
Draco didn't wake. Thankful for that, because he didn't know what to do if he did, Harry went to the bathroom to clean up after himself.
When he returned, having taken a cleaning, but not at all cleansing shower, Draco was awake on the bed, looking at him. Feeling hollow, wanting to retch anew, and still as of afraid to approach Harry asked:
"Are you alright?"
Draco's face looked as Harry felt.
"I don't know."
Harry cautiously approached the bed, not knowing what to expect, not knowing what to say, or feel, or think. At last he sat down on the bed, looking away at the bedroom wall.
"I think we need to see that shrink of yours."
TBC.