Oooh, I am going to have so much fun writing this! It's so exciting. Anyways, you guys enjoy, and let me know how it is so far! :D
Group Therapy And All Its Wonders
"I really think that it'll help you, Harry," Hermione said kindly, patting his hand awkwardly. Harry sighed, and looked to Ron for his opinion. He shrugged his shoulders, and scooted closer to Hermione. "I agree with 'Mione mate. I mean, you almost broke Ginny's jaw last week," he pointed out. That just made Harry angry. He immediately went on the defensive, but Ron stopped him, holding up a hand.
"Hey, I know you didn't mean to. Of course you didn't mean to. But that doesn't mean you're not a danger. I say go to group therapy at least once, and then if it's just awful, go back to Tinley the therapist," he saved. Harry, fuming, settled back into his chair. He looked at his two best friends in the entire world, and he didn't see that cloudy fear in their eyes. They seemed absolutely fine. Why was it always Harry? "Why don't you guys go to therapy?" he blurted out.
Hermione started, but then looked over at Ron, and then back at Harry, with an almost guilty look on her face. "Erm," she said. "Well, I have Ron, you see, and he has me, and we just kind of cope, together," Her face flushed and she looked down. Ron nodded approvingly, and reached out and placed his hand on Harry's knee. He leaned in closer, checking his surroundings to make sure they were alone. The Burrow was silent.
"Why don't you just talk to Ginny?" he whispered. Harry groaned, and stood up, pacing. He ran a hand through his hair and clenched his eyes shut and then reopened them. He turned around to face Ron. "Because," he whispered, his jaw taut. "I left her, Ron. It was just too painful to be around her, and I couldn't appreciate her the way she deserves to be appreciated, and, and, she just can't help me, okay? Don't ask me again," He finished, dismissively.
Ron stared at him a moment, and then shrugged his shoulders again, leaning back. Harry checked his watch. If he wanted to be only a little bit late he should leave now. He grabbed his cloak and his wand, waved goodbye to Hermione and Ron, and went out into the garden. He pulled out the piece of parchment with the address and clearly visualized the streets and building. Before he knew it, he was Apparating, being pulled through a tube that was squeezing the air out of him.
After the uncomfortable sensation of almost suffocating was over, Harry found himself standing outside of what seemed to be an old gym. He pulled his wand out carefully, and walked inside. "Lumos," Harry whispered, and the light flooded the dimly light hallways. He could hear voices towards the end of the hallway, to the left, and he walked toward it. As he approached the door the voices got louder, and he thought he recognized it, but he didn't pay it much attention.
Harry stopped outside the door, which bore the sign Clarity Group Therapy. Harry thought vaguely that signs that rhyme don't sound too inviting, but opened the door anyway. There was a short little vestibule that opened up into what Harry assumed was the gymnasium, and he made to go inside, but a voice stopped him. A voice that was eerily familiar. And it was speaking his name. Harry, frozen to where he stood, listened, straining his ears to hear more clearly.
"Harry Potter saved my life. Merlin knows I didn't deserve it, not after all I had put him through. And yet, he did. He showed me kindness when I had only shown him hatred and disgust. You see, Harry and I were bitter enemies all throughout our tenure at Hogwarts, and I blame myself for that. He denied my hand in friendship, and I took it personally. Too personally. I bullied Harry Potter constantly, incessantly, without stop. And he never stooped to my level. He mostly ignored me, and when he didn't, he was sticking up for his friends. He was so loyal, unwavering, and it made me furious. I think perhaps that his loyalty and his honesty, and his morality are what made me want to hurt him. He was everything that I wanted to be but couldn't, because if I ever was, I knew I would be shunned by my friends and my family," Harry, heart racing, breathing ragged, listened harder, desperate to turn the corner and see the face of the person he knew was talking about him.
The voice continued. "If I could say anything to Harry Potter, it would be I'm sorry. I would just apologize for everything I ever did, all the horrible and awful things that I did, and I know that you guys will tell me that I was forced to do those things, forced to murder Dumbledore, but I could've done something more to stop him, to stop You-Know-Who, and I didn't. And for that I will be forever ashamed of. I would say all of that to Harry Potter, and I would hope that he would forgive me. And if he didn't, well, I can't say I blame him. Could you? Thank you," he stopped speaking, and the rest of the group, a small group of witches and wizards young and old spoke in unison, "We believe in you,"
Another person, the leader of the group, perhaps, took to what Harry assumed was a stage, and began speaking. Harry wanted to run away, to not go into that room and confront his worst enemy, his worst enemy who had just repented, asked for forgiveness. He did not want to face that, because he knew that the moment he laid eyes on Draco Malfoy, he would have an episode, a flashback. And he did not want to have a fit in front of everyone. Honestly, he didn't believe he had anymore room for more humiliation. But, as luck would have it, as soon as Harry turned around, the leader saw him.
"Oh, hello? Who's there?" he called. Harry froze, mentally cursing himself for not being stealthier, and slowly, stiffly turned back around. "Come on out and join us, we were just getting ready to go around the circle and introduce ourselves," the leader beckoned. Harry took a deep breath, vowed not to find Draco Malfoy in the group, and stepped out of the shadows. He heard a few gasps and whispers, but Harry kept his gaze firmly toward the leader, who was a young man with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. He smiled at him, and motioned for him to come closer.
"Ah, yes, Tinley told me you would be coming, Mr. Potter," the leader said, pulling Harry up to his level. He held out his hand, which Harry shook quickly, dropping his hand as soon as was appropriate. He didn't dare look out to the group, even though he could feel Draco Malfoy's eyes burning holes through his back. "My name is Kent, and I'm the lead therapist for this group. Now, if you'll just have a seat next to, oh, how about Mr. Malfoy?" Harry's heart plummeted and he could feel his face growing hot. Kent gave him a little shove, and Harry stumbled over and fell into the chair next to Malfoy, not looking at him, not even acknowledging him. Kent grinned.
"Tinley told you that you might recognize Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter. Is it true? Because Mr. Malfoy was just talking about you," Kent said. Harry heard Malfoy's fist clench around his chair, and he couldn't resist any longer. He sideways glanced at Malfoy, and saw that his face was crimson, and his knuckles were white. His hair was still the same white-blonde shade, carefully gelled the the side, and his eyes were still silver, but they were different. It didn't take Harry long to realize that they had the same cloudy film over them, a cloud of fear. Just like Harry's. Malfoy's eyes flickered over to Harry, and they met, but only for a brief moment, because Harry turned away just then and gave Kent a small nod.
"Yeah, I know who he is," he said bitterly.
