Open Hand

At the end of their last session, Mary had given Harry a journal, and she told him she wanted him to write down the nightmares he was having more frequently, as well as what he could remember feeling before, and during his Panic attacks, and Triggered Events –currently the count of the Events was three—.

"Or, you just can write down random stuff, or doodles," Mary had shrugged.

Harry didn't want to admit that it took him a while before he started his first entry because of what happened the last time an adult had given a student a journal, but once he was able to get over that hurdle, he found that it helped. Helped a lot, especially with how things were going lately with his Professors.

Right now, he was sitting by the lake shore, he wasn't really writing so much as doodling stick figures, and random shapes, a mindless task that seem to ease the tension he had been feeling all day. When someone sat down beside him, he knew it wasn't Ron, or Hermione. His two best friends having learned during their weekly talks—another suggestion from Mary that was currently working wonders, and not just on Harry— that sometimes, he needed to be alone, away from people, and so far had done a good job of keeping others away.

So, he was a little surprised by the company, even more surprised when he saw who it was.

"Potter." Malfoy greeted, looking a little bit un—Malfoy in appearance.

Harry stared, eyes wide, and mouth agape, Malfoy stared back, and probably would have looked like what he was currently doing was normal, had it not been for the cautious nervousness in his eyes. Finally, Harry closed his mouth, and looked around, he saw no Crabbe, Goyle, or anyone.

That didn't mean it was safe.

"Erm, Malfoy," Harry closed his book.

Malfoy glanced down at it, before looking back up at Harry, and there was a long awkward silence.

"Erm…is there something you want?" Harry finally caved in.

Malfoy suddenly started to squirm, expression shifting from emotion to emotion before finally, words stumbled out. "Are you okay?"

"I—what?"

"Are. You. Okay?" Draco repeated firmly, apparently gaining courage from Harry's confused, and shocked face. "You…" Here he paused, and nervously licked his lips, thumb drumming against the dirt. "Professor Snape was…stricter than usual today, and I noticed the other Professors have been making you….uncomfortable, and the last time that happened, you—"

"Freaked out, and locked myself in the nearest cupboard," Harry finished for him.

Malfoy nodded.

Harry doesn't answer right away, this was the second time Malfoy had asked about him, and despite them being more polite toward each other, this still was weird. And deep down, years of hostility, had him being cautious around the other, still, Malfoy had asked.

"Uh, yeah." Harry said slowly, "I'm okay, or rather more calm anyway, so I'm not going to be taking residence any more cupboards, probably."

Draco hummed as he looked out to the lake, the giant squid had long since gone back to its den. And the silence that fell between them was a little less awkward, eventually Harry opened his notebook back up, and went back to his doodling.

"Why a cupboard by the way?" came the question when Harry was just finishing up what he thinks might be a bird, and when he looked up, Draco was looking at him again, waiting for an answer.

"Ms. Evergreen never asked me that," was the teenager's thought, especially since every panic attack he's had so far, seem to always end with him in a cupboard, or something close to it.

Then again, knowing her, she probably already knew the answer, or had a good enough clue.

Harry went back to his drawing, starting on a new design, "I guess, despite it being a cupboard, I felt safe in there, they—I was never really bothered once in there….it….it was a safe place."

Malfoy's next questioned came out soft, "Safe from who?"

"…For a long time, it use to be three people. But now, it's from the world."

~.~

"Harry, I think, I want to start Exposure Therapy with you. You remembered what we discussed about it?'

Harry nodded, he did, it had been one of the questions that had been on the paper he had to fill out, and the only one where he had put a maybe by.

Exposure Therapy had been one of the treatments Mary discussed in great length with Harry, and the teenager remember them going over their session time when doing so. Exposure Therapy was a very delicate method. In the end, both agreed to put in on the back burner until either of them felt it was needed.

Apparently Mary thought it was needed.

"You think my attacks are because I'm afraid?" Harry asked.

"Hmm, I think it has more so to do with guilt. Though honestly, your lack of fear may have more to do with self—preservation and self-worth, but we'll get to that later."

Guilt…Harry sunk down in his seat, he knew exactly what she was talking about, she didn't have to say the Who, What, Where, and How, he screamed them nearly night. They're the ones he saw doing his Triggered Events.

The air felt all of a sudden wrong.

He ended their session early.

~.~

"Do you think I hate my parents?"

Hands pausing in where they were shaping Play-doh into something, Mary looked over at Harry, the white blob that was probably supposed to be Hedwig still in his hands, teeth worrying lips, and shy eyes glancing at her.

"Can I ask what brought this on?" She asked going back to her play-doh.

"Malfoy," was the answer, Harry's tone telling he was still surprised by the fact, "somehow we ended up talking about our parents, and he told me—"Harry stopped for a moment, a protective gleam in his eyes, and it got Mary a little curious, "stuff. Then he asked me about mine, about what I thought about them, and I….couldn't come up with anything. Later, I kept thinking about, really thinking about, and I just….couldn't, I didn't feel anything, and the more I thought about the more I realized that everything I felt about them before was different."

"And you think that means you hate them?"

Harry nodded, and Mary got the feeling that this new realization didn't bother him as much as he thought it should, and that bothered the teenager.

Humming, Mary squashed her creation, and started something else, maybe a cat. "I think, you love the idea of your parents, because let's be honest, your relatives suck balls."

Harry snorted before taking breaking off pieces of the black doh.

"You grew abused, and unwanted, no doubt you dreamed about the what ifs, no doubt you wondered if what your Aunt and Uncle told you about them were true. And come to find out it's all a lie, and you're shown, and told how amazing they were, how brave they were, and how much they loved you. Dream come true, and I think you clung to that. Clung to one of the few good things in your life that I have a feeling, you ignored the fact that you only know of them."

Harry rolled the green doh, making it good, and long, then balanced the white thing that was supposed to be Hedwig on it.

"But," He said, poking at his creation, "at the graveyard, they helped me escape, and my mum, she sacrificed herself for me. They both did…..I should feel something for them."

"And no doubt you do. Pride, and strength for their bravery, happiness, and fondness for their memories, gratitude for their sacrifice. Maybe even resentment for dying and leaving you alone. You can feel all these things, not feel love. That's okay, it's okay if all you feel when you think about them is a kind of detached fondness, or nothing at all. And it's okay if one day, you wake up and realize that you do genuinely love your parents. It's okay to feel what you're feeling, and no one has the right to tell you you're wrong about them."

Harry is quiet after Mary finished, going back to work, even as he's walked back to his dorm, and took the cherry Jolly Ranger before climbing through, he is silent.

Name: Harry James Potter

Mr. Potter asked me if I thought he hated his parents, while I am not surprised he asked about them, I was surprised by the question itself. Nothing about our previous sessions, or Mr. Potter's behavior indicated his hating his parents or expressing doubts about him living up to their expectations should they have been alive, or if they would have been proud of him.

I would actually expecting him to ask about how he should feel about his relative's abuse toward him, especially since the last time we spoke of his abuse, he indicated he didn't really know what to feel. Will revisit subject in a future session.

(There is a sticky note underneath the transcript, Mary apparently had another run in with Draco Malfoy, they talked for about an hour. Under all that is another transcript with Neville's name on it, as well as reminder to give the student a Muggle book on mental health.)

~.~

"…I….I'm going to apologize to Sn—Professor Snape, about what happened last year."

"Oh? Well, just remember what I said, he has the right to not forgive you."

Harry put two puzzle pieces together as he nodded, he looked very nervous at the thought of the coming event. Mary studied it, then after putting a few pieces together, spoke.

"What made you decide?" She didn't ask if him apologizing was him being genuine, or because she had suggested it.

Here, Harry chuckled, "Believe it or not, it's because of Malfoy."

Mary made a soft curious "oh" before putting down her puzzle piece and gave Harry her full attention, the teenager had told her in a previous session that the two rivals had taken to sitting by the lake together. It was something the two hadn't discussed, it just sort of happened. When Harry was having a Not Good Day, he'd go to the lake with his journal, and somehow Malfoy always seem to pop up. Sometimes they would talk, or just sit in silence. But, Malfoy always greeted him by asking Harry if he was okay, and didn't care whether his question was answered or not.

For some reason, Harry didn't mind the boy being there with him on the Not Good Day.

"He apologized to me about the teasing he did during Third Year, really apologized, and at first I didn't know what to do. I didn't expect that, but then, I felt kind of glad. Cause what he did, it hurt, a lot more then I wanted to admit. And well, for him to admit that what he did was wrong, then to—"

Harry took a deep breath as though just remembering was bringing back all the emotions he felt on that day, and he needed to contain them. He didn't have to, in fact, Mary encouraged him to let out all of his emotions during sessions. But this time, Harry felt the need to hold back until he could say what was needed.

"I don't think, no, he didn't expect me to accept his apology. And I don't think he was expecting to look so relieved and kind pleased afterwards. Not a smug pleased, but like, a pleased with himself I guess? Like he wanted to do it, but was scared of what could happen, but he pushed through that fear anyway, make sense?"

"Perfectly." Mary grinned.

"Malfoy hated me, and I hated him. That's what I always thought, but, after that day I realized. I don't have to keep hating him, that's what you were trying to tell me, weren't you? When you told me to just say hi to him whenever I saw him."

"Honestly, there are a lot of reasons why I was concerned with the animosity between you and Mr. Malfoy. However, I would never tell you how to feel about someone, I can maybe help you figure out the why, but never how. You, and Mr. Malfoy are still growing, your emotions will constantly go hot, and cold, but that doesn't mean they aren't genuine. To be truthful, I didn't know what the outcome was going to be, though I am glad it was a positive one."

"I see." Harry frowned.

It was a thoughtful frown, so Mary wasn't worried too much, instead she moved the subject back to Snape.

"Thinking about my emotions when Malfoy apologized, I remembered what you said to me that day," Harry told her, "about no one was born a bully and all. And well, I got it. I want to apologize to Sn—Professor Snape, because not only what I did was very wrong, and a violation of privacy."

Which Harry understood all too well, Mary knew.

"But because, I know that, I don't have to hate him."

"And what about Professor Snape not accepting your apology? Mary asked as she dug through the pile between her and Harry, and pulled out two puzzled pieces, "Not forgiving you, still hating you?"

Mary also wondered if Snape apologized to Harry about everything he did, would Harry forgive him? And if the boy didn't, would he understand that's okay? Would he understand that if he did, that's okay too? Perhaps she'll bring it up in a session one day.

"…..I would be upset, but I would understand it's his choice. And that's okay."

Mary put the two pieces together, "Exactly."

~.~

After Mary's last meeting with the staff, no one is surprised that rest of the school had gotten wind of Harry's PTSD, however what did surprise Harry the most, was the students' behavior.

Most of the Muggle-Born children were accepting of it, some even came up to Harry, and told them about a relative who was diagnose with PTSD and even gave some advice. The Wizard-Born children were mostly curious, even more so when Mary told one of them that those born in the Wizarding World could in fact get PTSD, and it wasn't just a Muggle thing.

She had to restock her candy supply that week.

The adults were still having a hard time with it, unable to understand, or believe that what was going on was a real problem, or the fact that it couldn't be fixed with magic or a potion. And each time they heard one of the students talk about it, they frowned.

So far, the media has yet to get wind of this.

And maybe it's because of the others students support, that gave Harry the courage to finally make his way to Professor Snape's office before dinner for the long-overdue apology.

"Maybe I should have had someone come with me," Harry thought nervously as Severus Snape stared coldly down at him.

"Erm, good evening," the Savior squeaked.

"What do you want Potter?" Snape sneered.

Harry stuttered, thankfully it seem Snape found it more amusing then annoying, and it gave Harry enough time to calm down.

"I wanted to apologize," he said, eyes locking onto with his Professor's, "about last year, I should not have looked into your Pensieve without your permission. It was not only rude, but a violation of your privacy and trust. So, I'm sorry, and well, if you can't forgive me for what I did, then that's okay."

Name: Harry James Potter

Last night Mr. Potter went to apologize to Professor Snape about an incident that had occurred last year. Mr. Potter informed me that after his apology, Professor Snape asked him to leave, never indicating if the apology was accepted or not. During class, Professor Snape acted no different.

(Underneath the transcript, Mary had another run in with Draco Malfoy, Mary noted that the boy looked kind of exhausted. Somehow it ended with him in her office talking late into the night.)

~.~

In their next session, Mary spoke again about Exposure Therapy and guilt, only this time, Harry was ready for it. Prepared to tell her that it wasn't needed, he didn't need it.

"There's no need for that," he said voice quiet, but sure. Sure in this. "That's….what…what happened, that was my fault. Both times were my fault."

Mary's eyes are piercing, and her silence, something Harry had found comfort in, made him want to run out the room. And he knew she'd let him do it too, let him run fast and far, instead he looked away.

The air felt all of a sudden wrong again.

"Why?" The question came out just as quiet, and sure as his voice had been.

Harry's eyes started to sting, and his throat was getting tight.

"Don't cry, don't cry."

"B-Because," he stuttered out, he paused, and tried again, but he still stuttered, and his hands they won't stop shaking. And why was he breathing so hard?

"Don't cry."

"Because, because, I did it."

"Don't cry."

His hands would not stop shakin—"Don't cry!"

"Harry."

Mary was then there, not close, but there. Eye worried, understanding….but not disgusted, no pity, or accusing. All wrong, all wrong! He didn't—She shouldn't—He had to make her understand! He had to—

"I killed them!"

Mary jumped startled, surprised by his sudden outbursts, and he probably should stop. He should stop.

"I killed Cedric, and Sirius! It was my fault! All of it was my fault!"

He cried, and cried, and cried.

~.~

When the first of their guest arrived, Poppy concluded that being around Hagrid is the only reason why her jaw doesn't drop. The man was huge, buff, and a little rotund. His eyebrows were thick and his thick white mustache, and beard was neatly trimmed, his skin was white but had a kind of rosy flush to it, most noticeable on his cheeks. When his blues eyes looked over Poppy and Mary they sparkled with warmth, wonder, and jovial. When he greeted them—lifting Mary high in the air, and twirling her around like she weighed nothing, and Poppy could have sworn she saw tattoos picking out from underneath the sleeves one of them said naughty—his voice was loud, jolly, and she believed with a Russian accent.

Their next guest showed up soon after, a woman. Brown-skinned, dressed elegantly, black hair long, and silky. Standing tall, green eyes fierce, but kind.

She greeted Poppy by sticking her fingers in the Medi-woman's mouth.

"Oooh, you have very good teeth!" Poppy couldn't quite place the accent; she believedit was a kind of Asian dialect.

There next guest of honor came while Mary was obediently opening her mouth, tall, broad shouldered, and muscular. Black hair as wild as the markings on his dark skin—in the right light, black turned into a blueish-gray—, forest green eyes sparkled in amusment at the sight of Mary and the woman, before he, polite, with just a hint of charm, greeted Poppy in his Australian accent.

When her hand was released, she somehow ended up with a colorful wrapped chocolate egg.

She almost missed the fourth person.

A short and squat man, his skin looking as though he bathed in melted gold, hair blonde, and eyes golden brown, there was a wisdom in them. And his quiet smile was kind as he greeted her.

Not saying one word.

The last member, came like laugher on the wind. The youngest among them, skin almost deathly pale in the light, his smile was bright, and promised mischief—teeth a white as snow and just prefect according to the teeth-lady—, hair so blonde it looked white, and oh how blue were his eyes, with an near infectious joy to them.

He greeted her with warmth and politeness, then when he turned his attention to Mary and the others, chaos happened.

And that was her first meeting with the Agents of the Child Protection Bureau.

My two front teeth to whoever got what I did there.

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