Chapter Text
Harry was not the most keen on friendly introductions, especially when having to introduce himself to a whole room of people he already knew.
Well, he would’ve preferred to be in a room full of strangers. Unfortunately, he now faced many of his old school mates and sadly, his old rival from school too.
Harry looked up, seeing the dull and almost expressionless looks on their faces.
“But before we begin, there are protocols and rules to these sessions. All that is said here is private and confidential between us all, and it is my duty to keep you safe.” The mind healer said. She continued;
“And, we can scrap using our last names to address ourselves and me included. I will address you all by your first name and you shall do the same with me.”
Coughs and sniffles were heard all along the room. Introductions were about to begin, and Harry just knew it would be awkward.
Everyone sat in a circle, one by one, they stood up and introduced themselves in clockwise order. With Seamus Finnigan to his right and Blaise Zabini to his left, he sat awkwardly in between them.
Instead of introducing himself in the order like the mind healer asked for, he waited to be the last person to stand up, but clearly someone else is also waiting to be last too. None other than Malfoy himself.
.☆。• *₊°。 ✮°。
Despite the war causing severe damage to the castle — and to its students — , many were given an opportunity to attend an 8th year.
Instead of running away and never returning, something had almost lured him back. And therefore, Harry attended his 8th year.
The first week felt off to say the least.
Having to return to a place where he had to survive to live gave him chills. Classes that once were bustling with students were now silent. What once was a safe haven for younger Harry, was now a fractured memory after the tragedy the war truly was.
Where suffering was previously inevitable, the smell of death looming over the main hall and the distant battle cries echoing across the entire castle.
But everything was rebuilt, it all seemed fake and shallow. Uncanny. Haunting. The thought of it shook Harry to his core.
Earlier that week, as everyone had slowly begun to recover from the war, Ron and Hermione had started to worry about him.
Often keeping a close eye on him, raising an eyebrow at the sight of potential danger and attempting to keep him distracted from the harsh truth that reality is. As much as he loved the pair, Harry couldn’t burden them with his struggles anymore.
To be under their wings had become suffocating.
Sitting in the almost empty main hall, the pair came up to Harry. They sat in front of him, watching as he played with the silverplate fork and waited for him to notice them.
Harry had been told of McGonagall’s plans — who now took over as the head teacher —, about giving the students support in another way. Rather than suffering alone, suffering together sounded more ‘appropriate’. Whatever that meant.
Very clearly, when Hermione told him the news, Harry questioned it, being sceptical of the idea.
“It should be in position by next week.” She mentioned. “I’m sure there will be more about it when it takes place.”
“…Like?” Harry asked, lightly pushing his plate towards them.
“Like what time it starts, or whoever will lead these sessions.”
Deafening silence followed.
“Maybe we should give this ‘therapy’ a go.” Ron said, turning to Hermione.
“I feel we should, whether it is voluntary or mandatory… Though it will most likely be mandatory.”
And so it was decided. The week flew by. After —what felt like countless— lessons passed, a couple trips to Hogsmeade after school occurred and reconnecting with old school mates, it was Monday again.
At the end of the day, Hermione had come back with more news about the sessions.
McGonagall didn’t doubt herself. Rather than assigning a random teacher to lead the therapy lessons, she had made a deal with a well known mind healer. Helena Mirage. Ironically, Harry did not know her at all, only knew that she was a mind healer and a half-blood.
Surprisingly, Hermione was right and found out it was mandatory to attend and a few selected people would be chosen — and so she told Ron and Harry — .
To his surprise, Harry didn’t seem to mind it at first.
.☆。• *₊°。 ✮°。
After everyone else’s somewhat pointless introductions, Helena had eyed Harry and then locked eyes with Malfoy, her face saying ‘One of you will have to go first’.
Harry sighed, unfolded his arms and stood up.
“My name is Harry Potter.” He paused, looking around the room, catching everyone’s gaze. He had nothing else to say, everyone already knew who he was and what he did, but he knew that it mattered for Helena. “I was the chosen one.”
Quiet. No laughing, no whispers. Nothing. Only just the judging looks everyone gave. Until Helena gave in and broke the silence.
“Do you have anything else to say about yourself?” She asked, holding the clipboard in her hand.
Sheepishly, he replied and sat back down, “No-. no I think that’s it.”
“That’s fine, let’s carry on.” She frantically scribbled down something on a piece of paper before turning towards Malfoy.
Malfoy however, had no intention to attempt an introduction. One leg crossed over another, fidgeting with his nails and his head down. “Right.”
Immediately, all eyes were on Draco. Harry just knew what everyone else was all thinking.
He doesn’t blame them for thinking that way, he doesn’t like the fact that Malfoy is here. In fact, Harry was surprised to see him here. Malfoy would have considered this as ‘useless, soft and a waste of precious time’.
How funny.
“Ready whenever you are.”
“I couldn’t care less about whatever this is but whatever.” He muttered, tugging at his school sweater. Malfoy is not the best with keeping his mouth shut when supposed to, especially when whispering to ‘himself’.
“Do you think you could stand up to tell a bit about yourself?” Helena said firmly, avoiding his snarky remark.
“Oh, of course.” He spoke, with a twinge of sarcasm in his voice. Like his usual self.
He got up from his chair and combed through his white-blonde hair. “Draco, but everyone addresses me as Malfoy. What else do I have to say about myself that people already know of?”
Great to know they think the same.
“Okay, you may sit down.” Helena said, writing more on the paper before placing it down on the hard wooden floors. “Now we can start with our first session.”
Malfoy sat and slouched down slightly, huffing softly.
Helena had stood up and began to walk towards the front desk, grabbing a pile of folders with labels stuck onto them. “Since this is the first session, I will not pressure you all into speaking about topics you may find sensitive.”
She returned, giving each student a folder of any colour and a label with their name on it.
Wait, isn’t this.. muggle? This doesn’t seem to be written with a quill. Everyone — apart from Hermione — had seemed a bit puzzled, and Malfoy was perplexed to say the least. Like a Victorian child first discovering a life without working in the mines.
Harry wasn’t so surprised, the mind healer was of half-blood descendance.
“Each of you have now just been given a folder. This is your folder that you will use during these sessions, but do not worry. I will keep these safe for you if you do not wish to keep them on your person.”
Everyone in the room turned towards Helena as she sat back down, looking at her as if she had 3 heads.
She cleared her throat, pushing her rectangular glasses up. “We will start with a few breathing techniques. When you start to feel extreme emotions — whether you feel angry, upset or terrified — it is good to know these.”
All attention was on her now, lecturing about how to maintain your breathing. In unison, everyone in the room copied her and what she told them to do.
Harry didn’t think much of this, he already knew what he was doing.
Time went by oddly slow, sitting there for minutes felt like hours for Harry. Everyone was exhausted and the chilly September evening sun began to set.
It made Harry realise how long these lessons are going to be, especially during the winter times. Luckily it’s only going to be once a week.
Moments passed and Helena had kept on talking, showing more techniques and handing out little booklets for them to keep.
A soft and angry whisper came from the other side of the circle,
Harry turned his head towards the agitated Draco.
Malfoy sighed, picking at his cuticles. His usual demeanor no longer visible, grey eyes drooped softly and his gaze still on the floor.
“Is something bothering you, Draco?” Helena asked, tilting her head towards him.
Draco paused, hesitant to say anything he would probably regret later. His breath shaking, “Nothing. I just—.”
“Are y—“
A few gasped. Harry cautiously looked at the dishevelled boy, not to make any eye contact.
He stood up, picked up his bag from under his chair and stormed off. “I’m leaving.”
Blaise shot up quickly, eyes widened and turned towards Helena.
“Blaise, could you?”
“Yeah.” He stood up, grabbing his own stuff to follow Malfoy out of the classroom, almost knocking Harry out with his bag. “On it.”
And the door slammed shut. Silence.