Disclaimer: Not JKR, the boys don't belong to me, though it would be rather nice if they did…

A/N: Just a reminder that this is slash. And there are some not nice things in this chapter, so warnings for language as well as violence. As always my deep appreciation to my beta WindandSummer! And to all who've reviewed, thanks muchly! dablksaiyangurl: Yes Snape's around somewhere, will he make an appearance, who knows? grin and mechan, thanks for the birthday wishes. This one's definitely more Draco-oriented, Harry's been busy in other stories grin but he'll surface some more here too. Thanks for reading!

Road to Recovery

IV.

"Lydia. Thanks again for coming."

"This is my job, Draco, of course I'd come," She answered as she perfunctorily brushed at her green healer's robes. "Where is he?"

"In his bedroom. It's just this way." He led.

She looked around as they made their way up the stairs. The styles of both men, meshed very well, in this space. She could clearly see Draco's style in some of the artwork displayed, and the colours chosen in the cottage's accessories. Unfortunately, she couldn't say anything about that, knowing that their relationship had ended badly, though she wondered now, how much Harry's victimization had contributed to what she'd thought was a very solid and loving partnership, and whether the damage done to their bond could be repaired.

They reached the master suite and Draco knocked on the doorframe, "Harry," he said putting his head through, "Healer Marsh is here. Are you ready to see her?"

In the bed, Harry was pale-faced, he shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever be ready, but bring her in anyway." He offered an unsteady smile.

Harry was surprised. He hadn't known what exactly to expect, but the pleasant-faced, cheerily plump witch with her bright, engaging eyes and stylish grey bob, wasn't it. Healer Lydia Marsh looked to be the sort who was someone's grandmother, who baked in her spare time and shared gossip over tea. She didn't look like the kind of person who regularly delved into people's minds to confront their nightmares. Perhaps this was a mistake. He didn't want to hurt anyone else with his problems.

Draco stood at the foot of the bed, while Healer Marsh, made herself comfortable in the bedside chair. "I know that look, Harry. Trust me, I do know what I'm doing, I don't shock easily, and sadly, I've seen experiences like yours many times before. You don't have to worry about protecting me." Harry stiffened, surprised at her perceptiveness. The healer smiled sadly, "As I said, I have a lot of experience with this; I can make some good guesses to your thoughts, because of your reactions. Now, as Healer Malfoy s--"

"Draco," Harry said softly.

Healer Marsh held his eyes and nodded, "Alright. As Draco said, I am Healer Lydia Marsh. You can call me Healer Marsh or Lydia, whichever would make you most comfortable."

Harry held out his hand, "Nice to meet you Healer Marsh. I'm Harry Potter. Please call me Harry."

Draco wasn't surprised at the delineation Harry made between the medical professional, his healer, and his friend, his ex, someone he had a deep personal relationship with. It didn't bother him that Harry didn't want to see him as a medi-wizard. He was establishing comfortable boundaries and articulating his support needs, by clearly noting who went into which categories. It was especially important, as Lydia explained, during this first session, Draco would also be entering Harry's mind. His purpose was to soothe, to keep Harry from panicking until he acclimatized to Lydia's presence in his mind.

Draco took his place as the medi-witch's shoulder, and held Harry's hand. He looked deep into Harry's frightening green eyes, pouring all the reassurance, affection and care into his own gaze as he could. He and Lydia raised their wands, he took a deep breath preparing for the unknown, but determined to face whatever demons plagued Harry's mind, and together they spoke the incantation.

"Legilimens."

It was like nothing he'd expected or ever experienced. It was like jumping head first into dark raging waters on a moonless night. Ghosts and guilt surged around him, the dark of angst and regret flowed into him, nearly freezing him in place, and all around him shame, deep abiding shame, a sense of weakness, helplessness. He could do nothing, he would be hurt, again and again, he was nothing.

And no one would come for him. He was unworthy, soiled, a freak. He could hear them saying so.

"Freak!"

"You know you like it like this, slut!"

"You're a waste of flesh!"

"Nothing!"

"Nobody!"

"Failure!"

"So, your murderous freak godfather is dead? Proper end to your kind…"

"Kill the spare."

"Crisis of conscience, Harry? Kill me boy, and you're no better than a common murderer."

"Why weren't you Aurors here sooner? My husband's dead! It's your fault!"

"Aww, is ickle Harry scared?"

"Scared, Potter?"

"You'll amount to nothing, boy!"

"So this is the great Harry Potter? The Death Eaters were easy on you. You'll not be so lucky this time"

"Suck it!"

"That's right, you filthy little cunt. You love it like this don't you?"

"Open your mouth, Potter!"

"Merlin, you're tight. Maybe those rumours about you being a shirt-lifter were just that."

"Filthy!"

"Dirty little freak!"

"Freak!"

"Freak!"

"FREAK!"

And as suddenly as he'd been tossed into the deep, he was lifted out of the quagmire. The cacophony of voices separated and was dulled. Here was his, no, Harry's, Harry's Uncle Vernon, Harry's Aunt Petunia, and Cousin Dudley. Here was the Dark Lord. Here was Bellatrix LeStrange. Here was Severus Snape. Here were Ashcombe's accomplices, Reading, and Betterton. Reading, a weedy, spineless sort, a follower, and Betterton, sadist, rapist. Taunting and teasing Harry as he hurt him over and over again, ripped and pounded into him. He started to panic, the feelings rushing back, the pain in his throat, the burning and bleeding from…but then again he was lifted out of those memories, the sharpness of them faded.

Lydia, he remembered. Lydia was there too, assessing the worst of Harry's mental wounds, keeping Draco and Harry from being dragged down into them. Draco firmed his resolve. He was there to help Harry. He couldn't do that if the horrors claimed him as well. He focused on weaving a soothing presence around the filters Lydia erected. Harry would be able to view these memories, but held in Draco's protective comfort. Everywhere he touched, every raw and aching place, he left traces of himself. I am here, they said. You are not alone. They cannot hurt you anymore. You are safe. You are loved. You are strong. Beautiful. You are a survivor. You have won over them, they cannot harm you. They have no power over you. You are beautiful, whole, loved. Loved.

Over and over again he spun the litany, the silver trails of his own magical aura drifting purposefully through the blackest pits of Harry's mind. It was tiring, but he pushed himself on, until finally, he felt a tug at his own consciousness. Lydia again, and knew it was time to return to himself.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly, Draco blinked, and found himself looking into Lydia's calming brown eyes. "You've done very well, Draco."

He blinked again, and shook his head, fighting off the lingering disembodied feeling. He wasn't surprised to find himself on the bed propped against the bedhead. During mind-healings it wasn't unusual for the Legilimens' body to place itself safely or comfortably. He looked down to find Harry asleep in his lap. "How is he?"

Lydia frowned, "He should have been seen by a mind-healer long ago, Draco. As his guardians were obviously unfit, Albus Dumbledore should have seen to Harry's welfare. He was remiss, forcing an unprepared boy into the position of Saviour, without any real support or emotional balance."

Draco sighed, "Whatever he should have done, is moot now, Lydia. Dumbledore is dead. Though knowing what I do now, I'm rather sorry for it as I'd like to strangle the old goat myself."

Healer Marsh smiled grimly, "I might've had to assist." She shook her head, "that he could allow all that…Well, at least it's being seen to now.

"The damage I saw was extensive. The wounds and scars from his earliest abuse primed him for the destructive response to this most recent assault. As you saw Harry's psyche is rife with insecurity, self-recrimination, and harmful indoctrination. I've filtered some of the worst memories so he can recall and face them with the necessary mental distance to overcome the trauma of what he's experienced, but it won't be any of it easy. I've barely started and already I can tell there's months of work ahead of us."

"It's nearly seven now," she smirked at Draco's astonished look, "Yes we've been under for a long while. Intensive treatment is what he needs now. It won't be like this for long, but I'm clearing my schedule to work with him exclusively. I will be here each day at 9, and work with Harry until four. We'll break for meals of course, but I think that's the best treatment option. After a week, we can reduce sessions to twice week for three hours. After that?" She shrugged slightly, "We'll wait and see how he progresses, but I'm hopeful, we can gradually downgrade from weekly two hour sessions, to fortnightly two hour sessions, until he's fully in recovery."

Draco nodded solemnly, making plans. "Whatever he needs, Lydia. I'm here for all of it."

She patted his shoulder. "He's lucky to have you, Draco. Not everyone has such a devoted partner. He'll benefit greatly from not having to recover alone."

"I'm not--"

Lydia shook her head, "Whatever happened between you, and we'll work on that as well, for both of you as I sense it's a wound your mind also bears, matters little now. It's obvious he trusts you to be here for him, and you love him enough to do it."

Draco went to protest, but shut his mouth firmly over the ready lie on his lips. The older medi-witch was right. And hadn't he just moments ago been making plans to insure, he'd be able to be with Harry as much as he needed? Impatiently he tugged loose hair behind his ear. "Alright, Lydia. So tomorrow at 9?"

"Yes," she said radiating understanding and sympathy. "I'll see myself out, but be sure to wake him. He needs to eat and keep his strength up."

Draco idly nodded, having already dismissed his colleague from his thoughts. His thoughts were focused on the man sleeping beside him.

Harry hadn't relinquished his grasp on Draco's hand, throughout the long session. His long, slender fingers were sore, his hand cramped from holding one position. The young healer didn't mind. He thought it rather endearing actually, how Harry had tucked his hand up under his chin, clothed to him as a child might a favoured blanket or toy that represented security and warmth. Draco was warmed that Harry thought of him that way.

He shuffled down further onto the bed and ran his free hand through Harry's unruly hair. Like this, sleeping and secure in the knowledge of his safety, Harry seemed so much younger. Innocent, untouched by the horrors he'd lived through, the tragedies and travesties he'd survived. Draco had an insane urge to bundle him up and spirit him away to somewhere wholly safe, somewhere he'd never be subject to another harsh word or brutal attack. He sighed, knowing it was impossible. No such place existed, but it was a nice dream, one that lingered as his own tiredness overcame him and he drifted into sleep.

Disoriented murmurs and the weight of a familiar body on his chest pulled Draco from his dozing. Harry was shifting, nuzzling his chest, and Draco had to smile at the snuffling he'd missed and grown unaccustomed to in the last few months. He feathered a caress over the back of Harry's head, carding his fingers through the messy locks and taking a moment to savour the feel of them. As Harry grew more agitated, Draco shook him gently, whispering that he was safe, but it was time to awaken.

Harry shifted restlessly for a few moments, but Draco's voice soon reached him and his eyes blinked open, slowly moving across the room, taking in his surroundings and registering his company, as though he'd lost track of the where and why of his location.

"I dreamed such horrible things, Angel," he said finally, his voice dry and throaty. "But then you were there and everything was better." He clung tighter to Draco and nuzzled further on his chest. "My own Angel, there to protect me and guide me from the dark," Harry whispered and pressed a kiss against Draco's chest.

The seal of affection and need seemed to burn right through Draco's robes and into his heart. He so desperately wanted them to be like this, to have that affection, that closeness, be real. But this wasn't who they were anymore. He knew that Harry probably was confused, perhaps had lost sight of the last few months, and thought that Draco's presence in his bed meant they were still together. The disorientation would pass, for now though, no matter how he wanted it or how good it felt. He had no right to Harry's kisses, and couldn't in good faith encourage him, when he was still struggling with the confusion that followed intensive mind-healing. Draco tangled his fingers in the hair at the base of Harry's skull and gently tugged until Harry raised his face. "Not dreams, Harry. Nightmares and memories. Do you remember Healer Marsh?"

Harry pulled back and closed his eyes. "Oh Merlin, it wasn't dreams then. You-you saw?"

Draco reclaimed his hands and brushed away the tear determinedly working its way down his face. "I saw. I was there, Harry."

Harry turned away, "You must think me so disgusting, now. How could you--? I-I'm sorry you had to see that."

Draco pulled Harry against his chest, "No more running away. No more denial," he said against his ear. "Yes. I saw. I don't think you're disgusting, I could never think that about you. I'm sorry you had to live it, Harry. I saw what you had to endure Harry, but it didn't--what they did is no reflection on you. They're the disgusting ones, but their baseness, vileness, perversion; their misguided notions, their hatred, their hypocrisy, it didn't touch you. It didn't make you like them. You could never be like them, Harry. And I'm not sorry that I got to see. I'm not sorry you trusted me with your pain. I'm not sorry about that at all." Impulsively Draco dropped a kiss into Harry's hair, but pulled back when his bed partner stiffened. "I-I care about you, Harry. I always will. And I'll be here for you. I promise." He sat up and called for Dietty who brought them a light supper, and casually filled Harry in on the happenings at the clinic and hospital while they ate. He also told Harry about Healer marsh's schedule, which caused him to make a face but he didn't protest.

"I guess I need it," Harry said resigned. "I'm really messed up."

Draco grasped his hand across the dinner tray. "No, Harry. It's not like that. You've been hurt. Badly. And you never received the medical attention to heal. Now all those old wounds are infected and festering. Healer Marsh is going to help you heal them. If you'd had proper healing years ago, you wouldn't be suffering the kinds of nightmares you still do. You wouldn't be so quick to blame yourself for things you can't prevent. It's not that there's so much wrong with you, as you're not as healthy as you could be. You were never given the tools to be properly healthy, and the people who should have protected you, made sure you got the healing you needed. They failed you, Harry. Dumbledore, the Order, they failed you.

"You need to learn how to accept that the horrible things that have happened to you weren't your fault. It wasn't a lack on your part that allowed Ashcombe's people to hurt you. They forced you. It was their choice to harm you. You didn't have a choice. The same with your hideous Muggle relatives, you didn't have a choice! Merlin, Harry, with the kind of conditioning they forced on you to be compliant and believe you were worthless, it's a miracle you survived that place at all, let alone with any sense of your own personality. Healer Marsh will help you, and I'll be here to help you too. I'm not leaving you Harry. You're a good man, a kind and wonderful, special man. And no matter what else, I will always be your friend. I will stand by your side and help you any way I can."

Harry's eyes grew teary, "You really are my Angel you know," he said softly and squeezed Draco's fingers. "Thank you, Draco."

That night when Draco was preparing to leave for the guestroom, Harry's hand shot out and held him still.

"Stay."

It was such a heart-felt plea, Draco couldn't refuse. He quickly retrieved his pyjamas and returned to the Harry's room. They started on either side of the bed, content with just the proximity of the other, but their bodies remembered what they'd had in each other's arms, warmth and safe-haven, a sense of being cherished and valued. Their bodied craved touch, craved recognition of how they were meant to be. And as they had hundreds of times before, they woke in a tangle of locks and limbs. Flushed from both embarrassment and the lingering effects of the dream he'd woken from, Draco hastily slipped from the bed to change and ready himself for the day. A few hard fast tugs in the shower and an admonishment to the head not on his shoulders and he felt ready to return to Harry's side and help him through his own morning ablutions. As he was washing Harry's hair, a rivulet of water meandered down Harry's chest, and despite himself Draco was captivated by his journey. He barely managed to bit back his moan when the droplets eased over a peaked nut-brown nipple, and blushed furiously when he realized he'd been caught out.

"It's alright, Draco. I like that I can still make you hot, scrawny and pasty as I am."

Draco shook his head, trying to dislodge the image, "It-it's unprofessional, an-and…I'm here as your friend Harry, it's wrong of me to--"

Harry grasped his chin and held the silvery grey gaze with is own, "I like that I still turn you on," he repeated, nearly purring. "I want you, Draco. I want us. I-I know I'm not ready now. But I will be. I want you in every part of my life, in my heart, in our house, in our bed. Knowing some part of you still wants me…" Harry's eyes flitted away and back, brutal honesty replacing his earlier bravado, "it makes me feel there's something to fight for. I won't push, but I want you to know how I feel."

Encouraged by Harry's honesty, Draco took his own leap of faith, and brushed his soapy thumb over the hardened nubbin, smiling at the shudder that ran through Harry's body. "I've never wanted anything or anyone, the way I want you. I miss us, Harry. I want to be back in all those places. I have something to fight for too, but I don't want there to be pressure on either one of us right now. I'm not ready for a relationship." Draco smirked, "I'm still reeling from being chucked by my ex. When I'm ready. You'll be the second one to know."

Harry smiled, though it was a pained one. "He was an idiot to walk out on you."

Draco brushed his lips against Harry's temple. "Then I was an idiot for letting him go. Luckily we've been given a second chance, and we're both much smarter now." He winked as he sat back and flipped the switch for the handheld showerhead to rinse Harry off. "Lydia will be here soon," Draco said, once the playful atmosphere had faded to something more serious. "Are you feeling well enough to see her downstairs, or would you rather be in bed?"

Harry closed his eyes as Draco ran the showerhead over his hair, "Downstairs. I've lost track of the days, but I'm sure I've been in bed for ages." When he opened his eyes embarrassment was colouring his cheeks, "Um-if I remember correctly, it's pretty filthy down there though. Maybe it'd be better--"

Draco sniffed, "Filthy is an understatement, Potter. It was an absolute abomination. When was the last time you cleaned?"

The high colour blossomed, "I haven't cleaned. Um--it's been--I couldn't stand to change a thing after Dietty brought my things. I don't think anything would be unpacked at all if she hadn't done it when you sent her. It got messy, but I couldn't bring myself to care."

Draco ran his hand over Harry's sharp shoulder blade. Affection, absolution. Harry sighed. "Well, thank Merlin for Dietty, then," Draco said softly. "She's tidied up everything, so you needn't be embarrassed Harry. Only Mione and I saw what it was like before."

Harry brought Draco's hand around and held it. "Thank you."

The blond nodded. "It's alright. Now let's get you dressed. The females in your life, the house-elf included, will have my head, if you haven't had breakfast by the time Lydia arrives."

Breakfast was simple but hearty in consideration of Harry's weakened condition and need for substantive but not overwhelming nutrition. He also dutifully forced down the several nasty-tasting potions Draco forced on him with minimal complaint, which he thought was quite the accomplishment.

Lydia arrived exactly at 9 and they set up in the cottage's cosy living room. Harry and Draco shared the couch, Harry holding firmly onto Draco's hand, while Lydia took the suede armchair in front of them.

"I'm going to be setting up additional filters today, Harry. These will be around some of your more damaging memories like yesterday, but I'll also weave some around the impulses that drive you to drink. Because of the detoxification, you no longer have a physical need for alcohol, but the psychological and emotional need is still there." She pulled out her wand. "Now like all filters these will fade in time, but by then you will have the emotional stability to handle them. And like yesterday, Draco will accompany me. You needn't feel scared or lost. When things feels like they're getting to be too much, rely on his presence and strength to keep yourself from being subsumed by the emotions evoked by the memories we'll be shielding. Are you ready?"

Harry drew a deep breath, "As I'll ever be," he said gripping Draco's hand tighter.

Draco stroked the fingers of his free hand across the tight knot of their clasped hands. "Relax, Harry. Remember, these are memories. Nothing we see can touch you in the here and now. When we leave them behind they can't hurt you again. You're safe and I'm here."

Harry gave a shot nod and loosened his fingers a little, but moved closer to Draco's side, leaning into the healer.

Lydia caught Draco's eye to see whether Harry was ready to begin. He nodded and she raised her wand higher. "Let's get started. Legilimens."

"Nothing good will come of your having that boy here Vernon. He'll amount to nothing. And you'll have wasted all your time and money on him. Those freaks have a never dropping him off here. As if you'd want him when none of them do!" Harry's aunt Marge was younger but still large, a tiny, black-haired boy stood in the corner, head bowed, as the grown-ups continued to talk as though he wasn't there.

"You are a saint for being so generous and opening your home to your good-for-nothing in-laws' brat. I'm just sure he'll end up trouble, probably be locked away unless he gets himself killed like his drunkard father and he'll deserve everything he gets!" She sniffed, though it sounded more like an overly wet slurp, and sat back smug and self-satisfied, to munch on yet another biscuit.

Lydia worked quickly, distancing Harry and Draco from the hurtful words. Draco lacing his presence in the shield. They were cruel and spiteful. You deserve nothing but love, Harry, nothing but kindness. Were the whispers he left behind and he fell into yet another memory of deprivation and misplaced blame.

They surfaced for lunch, brought out of their trance-like states by a small chime Healer Marsh set, and began to talk about what Harry remembered. It wasn't enough to place filters and provide distance from the hurts of his past. To gain a healthier sense of self Harry had to face he emotional damage wreaked on him. In halting whispers he allowed himself to really talk about how he felt about the Dursleys, about the way he was raised. The remnants of his soup were long cold by the time he'd stumbled to a stop and he'd near crawled into Draco's lap.

"That's enough for today," Lydia decided, finishing the last of her notes and handing them over to Draco to be placed in Harry's medical file. "You've done really well today, Harry." She approached him carefully and smiled widely when he reached out to her. She hugged him and patted the side of his face. "It's hard, and it hurts, but you really are getting better. Tomorrow we're going to touch on some more recent memories. There's a pattern to what you're remembering, how you're remembering. Feeling as though you deserve bad things that happen to you, that they're your punishment, well that idea obviously was planted when you were a young child. You need to face some of these more recent things and learn to see the truth there. Rest now, maybe go for a walk, if your Healer thinks you're up to it," she winked at Draco. "I'll see you in the morning."

Harry nodded and when she'd gone, Draco stood. "She's right it's time to get you on your feet. Do you feel like going outside?"

Harry dropped his head in his hands, "I suppose. Gods, Draco I feel--I'm such a mess!"

Draco went to his knees and pulled Harry's hands away from his face. "You're not a mess, Harry. There's a lot you have to work through, but you're doing fine. We'll get through this."

Harry sighed, "I hate being so weak. And everything's so raw, like it's all been pulled right open."

Draco pushed himself up on Harry's knees, "You're not weak," he said sternly, "You're healing. That takes time and energy. And of course it's raw, you've been hiding from all these painful things, pushing them aside so you wouldn't have to deal with them, and when you couldn't push them aside and ignore them anymore, they took over your life. You used alcohol as a crutch to get through, and that didn't work either, you don't have that crutch anymore, so now you're having to face all of it. It's ugly and painful, but it will get better Harry. You'll get stronger and the demons of your past won't haunt you like they have. C'mon," he stretched out his hand, "Let's get out of this house. Go for a walk."

Harry pulled himself up, "Alright," he said tiredly, "Down to the village maybe? We can have a look round the shops and come back for dinner?"

Draco shook his head, "Ambitious plan, but a bit too much for you right now. I thought we'd just go 'round the garden and come in. You know Weasley and Hermione will be getting back tomorrow. They'll probably want to visit." He prompted as Harry slipped on a jacket.

"I know. I don't want to see them yet though; maybe after you and Healer Marsh have spoken to everyone."

"If that's what you want Harry. You know, speaking of needing to talk to your friends and workmates" Draco paused studiously examining his nails to avoid looking at Harry, "it might be a good idea for you to take a leave of absence…"

Draco looked up as Harry laughed, "That wasn't exactly subtle, Angel. You know as well as I do that an Auror who's experienced trauma in the field can't return to work until they've received clearance from a healer. I got round it before becau-because I didn't report what happ-happened to me." Draco squeezed his hands in encouragement and Harry nodded gratefully. "As my healers, you and Healer Marsh could declare me unfit for duty, um…but taking a leave would be better for my record. I appreciate you're giving me a choice."

Draco nodded, back in his medi-wizard persona, "Having choices and making good ones is an important part of your recovery, Harry. Really, I'm too close to you to be ideally objective. I should hand your case over to a colleague." Harry looked stricken and Draco rushed on, "I won't do that. Between professional ethics and your being comfortable enough with your healers to make the kind of progress you need to, there's no question of what's more important. We're going to do what's right and healthy for you, Harry. But you needed to have first choice about this. I could sign a work prohibition order, but I'd rather you request leave on your own. That way you can decide what you want the Auror Department and the Ministry to know, if anything at all."

"I-I don't want Kingsley or anyone at the Ministry to know about--about the r-rape. I don't want to see pity in their eyes every time they see me or for them to think of me as-as damaged--or w-weak." Harry hung his head, "I don't really want to tell my friends either, b-but they have to know don't they?"

"Yes, that's why I've made plans to talk to them all at once. You need their support Harry. They're your friends. You love them like family. They're not going to judge you or pity you, but they need to know so you're not hiding from them, and so if you fall back into addiction they can intervene before you hurt yourself."

Harry blew out a sigh and wrapped himself around Draco, "I know," he said against Draco's shoulder, "I just…I hate that it's happening. That they have to know. That I was stupid and started drinking too much…I hate it, Angel."

Draco smoothed his hand over Harry's head, "I know. But it's going to be alright, Harry. It will."

He pulled back a little and brushed his fingers over Harry's reddened cheeks. "It will," he said, and steered them back to the cottage.

Tbc…