When Therapy Fails
"I should go," Malfoy said, his hair messy, and his suit wrinkled. He hesitated by the door to the entryway, looking disheveled and, to Harry, overwhelmingly sexy. "Or you could stay," Harry said from the couch. His heart was still racing from the passion and the intensity of what had just expired. How could he live without the heat of Draco Malfoy next to him, how he could last without feeling those soft lips against his, and most importantly, how could he be without the feeling of companionship, of love, of compassion? The answer was simple. He couldn't.
Malfoy turned back to face Harry. "This doesn't mean we're together," he said. Harry propped himself up on his elbows. "I'm not a child, Malfoy, I know that," he replied. Malfoy ran a hand through his sweaty hair, causing Harry's heart to speed up. Malfoy sighed, and sat his cloak back down. "To be honest, I'd rather be here than where I'm staying," he said, looking down at Harry and swallowing. Harry sat up, pulling the sheets with him. "And where is that?" he asked.
Malfoy sat down next to him. He was close. Really close. His thigh touched Harry's, and their shoulders almost collided. Harry liked it. But beneath the initial satisfaction was confusion. What did all of this mean? Were he and Malfoy on good terms now, or were they simply ignoring their past. Letting bygones be bygones? Harry knew the topic would crop up eventually, but for now, he was basking in bliss and ignorance.
"Um, just a small flat up north," Malfoy answered. Harry tried to imagine Malfoy living in a one bedroom flat, as opposed to his gigantic mansion he was raised in, and the image makes Harry want to laugh, but he doesn't. "What about your parents?" Harry asked, but the moment the words came out of his mouth he knew he had hit a tender chord. Malfoy's face became paler, and he clenched his hands in fists. "I don't speak to them," he spat, clearly not wanting to talk about it. And so Harry didn't press it. He was beginning to feel the tension rise and the passion diminishing. He didn't want to, but he knew that he needed to get up, get dressed, and have a serious chat with Malfoy.
Harry was determined not to turn what had happened into a one night stand. He deserved better than that. "Why don't you stay here, and I'll get dressed, and we'll talk some things out," Harry suggested, standing up, letting the sheets fall away from him. It took Malfoy a moment to gather his words, but he agreed, after sweeping his eyes up and down Harry. Harry, feeling quite proud, pranced up the stairs to his bedroom, and pulled on clean clothes.
When he bounded down the stairs, he found Malfoy in the kitchen, with Kreacher bustling about him, not speaking. Harry entered, and sat down across from Malfoy. Kreacher sat a cup of tea in front of Harry, gave him a strange look, and then disappeared. Harry turned back to Malfoy. Malfoy stared back at him, and it took a lot of strength to keep Harry from flying across the table and repeating what happened the previous night.
"I'm still so, so angry with you, Malfoy," Harry began, and it was true, he was still angry. But it was a muted anger, and Harry knew it wouldn't take long before he exasperated it. Malfoy held up a hand. "Harry, you can call me by my first name, you know. I think we're to a first name basis," he said. Harry blushed a bit, but continued. "Right, er, Draco, I think we need to discuss a few things," It felt weird, saying Malfoy's first name, like Harry was forging a friendship, or crossing a bridge, or something big. Which he guesses he is.
Harry clears his throat and continues, trying to keep a single train of thought. "The things you've done, the people you've hurt, it's completely unforgivable, but I forgave you, which must mean something, but I'm still so confused. About me, my feelings for you, and how am I supposed to know that you aren't the same cruel, cold, and calculating boy I went to school with?" Harry exclaimed. Malfoy sat down his mug, and stared hard at Harry.
"You can't possibly know if I'm the same person or not," he said, which made Harry scoff and lean back in his chair, but Malfoy continued. "However, I will make it my mission to prove to you that I have changed. It may take years, but I'm willing for it to take that long, if it means being with you. I," He trailed off, but then shook his head slightly and continued. "I've been in love with you since our first day at Hogwarts. When you rejected me, I took that pain, that loss, and turned it into something infinitely worse. I bullied you, harassed your friends, and I'm not saying that's an excuse for the things I said, but you need to understand that I was raised under a sheltered, prejudiced life, and I didn't know any better. When I got older, I did begin to understand, but you have no idea, by then, the power the Dark Lord-I mean, You-Know-Who, wielded, the influence he had. I had death hanging over me,"
Malfoy eyes were watering, and he looked desperately at Harry, for some sign of understanding, but Harry didn't know what to say. He couldn't believe his ears, not for one second, because the things Malfoy said were completely uncharacteristic of Malfoy, and it wouldn't surprise Harry if this whole thing was a ruse, a scheme to expose Harry as gay to the world.
But then Malfoy grasped Harry's hand suddenly, and Harry felt the pressure of truth. He swallowed. "I have to admit, Draco, that was a pretty epic speech, and I'm not quite sure how to follow," he said, breaking the tension. Malfoy laughed a nervous little laugh, and released Harry's hands. He sat back in his chair. Harry spoke this time. "It's hard, because I feel for you and me both that we can say we're sorry and remorseful all we want, but I feel that the only way to truly prove to each other that the past is in the past and we aren't the same people is to just be together, and maybe even fall in love, but I think becoming friends would be a good first step, don't you?" Harry suggested, looking through his eyelashes at Malfoy.
Malfoy hesitated, but not for long, and then he gave a small little smile. "We'd have benefits, wouldn't we?" he asked, and Harry, blushing, grinned back and waved his mug away with a flick of his wand. "Well, of course," he whispered seductively, leaning across the table.
Having Draco Malfoy around significantly reduced the amount of episodes Harry had. After the first few weeks of friendship-with benefits-Harry and Malfoy stopped going to group therapy altogether. Harry knew that eventually he'd have to return Tinley the Therapist's owl, but he'd hold off for as long as he could. He also knew that at some point he'd have to just come out to Ron and Hermione, because he was getting the feeling that "I need some space" was losing it's touch.
And it's not like Harry and Malfoy stayed shut up in Grimmauld Place all of the time. They could be found often at the Leaky Cauldron, or Diagon Alley, enjoying each other's company and slowly, slowly, falling in love. As of yet, Harry hadn't had an episode in front of Malfoy, and he wasn't looking forward to the day it inevitably happened. He and Malfoy were sneaking around Hogsmeade, and Malfoy had dragged Harry all the way to the Shrieking Shack. In the back of Harry's mind, a little voice warned him of what would happen if he went back to that place where he had first seen Peter Pettigrew, and his godfather Sirius Black, but Malfoy was whispering lustfully in Harry's ear, and he couldn't deny the opportunity that was presenting itself.
"Come on,'' Malfoy said, pulling Harry up the stairs. Harry was chuckling and felt like a very juvenile teenage boy, but he was having fun. Harry and Malfoy emerged in the bedroom, and Malfoy shoved Harry up against the wall. "Let's turn this old place into the truly Shrieking Shack, shall we?" he muttered against Harry's neck, and Harry couldn't stop Malfoy, he was so aroused. And it was okay until Malfoy's lips moved down Harry's chest, and Harry had full view of the room. The bed was still broken from when Hermione, Ron, and Harry had all disarmed Snape, and their were still little mouse tracks from when Wormtail had escaped and then he felt it.
His muscles began to tense up, and his pupils dilated. Malfoy, who no doubt thought it was Harry's reaction to be stimulated by his lips, did nothing, but Harry felt his heart drop. He tried doing what Tinley and Kent had said, tried to focus on what was real, what was happening, but it didn't matter. Despite what Malfoy was doing down there, Harry was losing himself.
His palms became sweaty, his eyes unfocused, and then he was five years in the past. He was in the same room, but he didn't feel Malfoy anymore, and instead, he felt a presence behind him. But he couldn't turn to see who it was. And then suddenly, Sirius was bounding towards him. At first, Harry felt overwhelming joy at seeing his godfather again, but it lasted only seconds, because then he heard a high-pitched crazed laugh from the being behind him, and he knew who it was. Bellatrix Lestrange crept around him, her wand poking him in the ribs, and she laughed once more. She spoke, but when she opened her mouth, no words came out, only horrible, wretched sounds.
Sirius looked at Harry, and tried reaching out to him. Harry reached back, but something was restraining his arm. Bellatrix got closer and closer to Sirius, and Sirius began to scream for help from Harry, and Harry couldn't get closer, and he began to scream too, because he could not, would not watch his godfather die in front of him again. But then Sirius screams changed, and the voice was Malfoy's, and it was over as quickly as it had begun.
Harry felt himself on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, being held by someone. He was screaming Sirius' name, and his eyes and hands were clenched shut, and he felt wetness on his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Harry, it's okay, it's okay, shh," Malfoy was saying, and Harry tried to stop sobbing, but he couldn't, because he had just seen his godfather again, and it had been both wonderful and horrible.
Malfoy squeezed Harry tighter, and Harry finally opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Malfoy's chest. He then felt Malfoy's arms around Harry, holding him close, keeping him safe. Harry slowly lifted himself up, and found Malfoy's face. Malfoy looked very distressed, with tears glistening in the moonlight, and he opened his mouth to speak. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I shouldn't have brought you here, I didn't even think about the impact it'd have on you," he said, his hands fluttering around Harry, and finally resting on Harry's own hands. Harry clutched at them, desperate to keep some sense of what was reality. He felt a few more tears roll down his cheeks. "It was awful, Draco," he said, and then burst into tears again. Malfoy looked helpless, but pulled Harry into a hug. Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy, desperate for a sense of safety. And so Malfoy held him while he sobbed, and he didn't judge him and he didn't blame him, and he just stayed there, and he understood. He didn't ask Harry to tell him how he was feeling, and he didn't ask him what he had seen, he just let Harry grieve and mourn and react to what had happened.
Where therapy failed, Draco Malfoy succeeded.