When Draco's name was called he stood up and went into the room, plopping down on the couch. His therapist closed the door behind him and sat in her chair across from him. They'd spent so many weeks together and he was so grateful to have a mind healer like her. She never pushed him. She never forced him to talk. He was starting to really like Jennifer. Besides his friends and George, she was the only person who treated him like a person. Someone other than a death eater. Technically the people he did business with didn't treat him like a death eater but at the end of the day, it was a business exchange. Never friendly but not unfriendly.

Over the eight- now nine weeks, he's begun to eat. It was a slow process, starting with eating an apple for lunch and some strawberries for dinner but today he ate a sandwich. An entire sandwich! Ham, mayo, lettuce, tomatoes, and all! He only took one meal supplement potion once today and it was for breakfast. It progressed. It was amazing how being treated like an actual person affected Draco. He wasn't cured or all better by any means, not in the slightest. Draco still struggled to get out of bed on his days off, if he ever gave himself one. He still overworked himself. He still had nightmares. He still had his outbursts but he had to start somewhere right? It made him want to continue to do better even on days when he didn't feel like continuing. As hard as 'getting better' was, he couldn't continue to let himself continue sinking.

"How was your day, Draco?" She asked with a smile.

He gave her a small grin back, "Honestly? Long. I'm exhausted." This was the first time he said anything other than 'good.' "How was yours?"

She straightened up, happy at the progress. "Want to talk about it?" She asked.

Draco shrugged, "I woke up from a nightmare. It was a bad one, must've been I'd imagine. It affected my magic. I woke up to my windows blown out, again. My bookshelf tipped over, the whole room was a mess." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He stopped using gel and let it fall naturally these days. "This one was rough. I had to take a calming potion to calm down."

She nodded as he spoke, writing stuff down in her notebook. "Want to talk about it?" She asked. He stayed silent for a moment. He knew he should talk about it but he couldn't force his mouth to open. She must've seen his internal struggle because she asked, "Was it about the war?" She asked.

He nodded, "Most of them are." He whispered.

"Is it a reoccurring nightmare?"

He shook his head. "No... I mean, kind of? It's all of the things I did- was forced to do or things that happened to me." He put his face in his hands. Even the small details he gave her were too much for him. The room was silent, he almost couldn't handle it. "Sometimes they repeat."

"Want to tell me about one of them?"

Draco could do this. He could. He was going to tell her. "I can try." He said, earning a smile from her.

"Take your time." She said, adjusting her position. "If at any point you don't want to continue talking about it, just tell me. There will be no judgment. And remember, this is a huge step. It'll be hard for you to talk about and I'm proud of you for even attempting."

He looked up at her and smiled. She was proud of him. He could do this. He could make this progress. "One of them," he began, trying to find one of the nightmares he thought he could talk about. "It-it starts normally. I'm at Hogwarts, going to classes like usual. But… then suddenly I'm in the bathroom." The day Harry and him dueled in the bathroom still haunted him. Even if he deserved it. "I'm crying over the sink. I was tasked to kill Dumbledore. I couldn't do it. I can't just… can't. He's a person. I can't just-just kill him!" He could feel his eyes start to sting. He knew he was going to cry. He could do this. "I-I needed to, though. If I didn't kill him, he would kill me. But…" tears were streaming down his face at this point. "I had to. I was running out of time. I couldn't handle the stress. I was sixteen and tasked with killing Dumbledore! What kind of person asks that of a child?" He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He knew he was rambling. "Someone came into the bathroom, someone who knew I was up to no good. We began to duel and things got bad. He hit me with a curse. I don't know what it was but I know one minute I'm dueling and the next I'm on the floor, bleeding out. I had two deep gashes on my torso. It hurt so bad. Oh god, it hurt. I was bleeding out and nobody was doing anything. Nobody was helping me. People were watching me bleed out." He absently rubbed at his chest he could feel the scars now, "I thought I was going to die that day, but someone came and saved me." He said, clearing his throat. "In the nightmare, I die, though." A part of him wonders if he would've been better off dying.

Jennifer had stayed silent the whole time but handed him a tissue. Draco could see the pain in her eyes when he looked up at her. "No child should be tasked with killing another person." She was writing stuff down in her notebook again. Had she been doing that the whole time?

Draco scoffed, "Tell that to the Dark Lord." He still couldn't say his name. They both stayed silent. "I didn't kill him. I couldn't. I had him trapped and I still couldn't do it. And you know the most fucked up part? He fucking tried to help me. He fucking offered to help me even with my wand pointed at him. I was so angry. How could he offer to help me when I'm in front of him about to kill him? And yet, I still couldn't bring myself to do it." He'd never talked about that night with anyone besides Snape.

She gave him a small smile, "That's because you're not evil."

"Bullshit. I have the dark mark. I'm nothing but evil." He hissed.

"Someone evil would've been able to kill with ease." She began, "Someone truly evil wouldn't have been so emotional over having to kill someone."

He didn't know why he was getting angry. "Someone who wasn't evil wouldn't have gotten the dark mark!"

"Did you get the dark mark because you wanted to follow him or did you get it because you had to?"

"I-" he stopped himself. He never wanted to follow the dark lord but he had to. He would've killed his parents and him. "I got it because I'm a coward."

She tilted her head, "You were just a child." Her voice was soft. "Your father had the mark, and he was in your home," it looked like she couldn't say Voldemort's name either. "You did what you had to do to survive. That's no coward. You were fighting in a war."

"Yeah, on the wrong side!"

"Because you had no choice."

"I did have a choice! I could've… I could've told Dumbledore ahead of time. I could've run away." The guilt was eating him alive. He wiped away the tears. He'd been crying so much his head was starting to hurt.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, but you were scared for your parents, yes? You think he would've killed them?"

"Of course, he would've killed them!"

"Then you're not a coward. You were protecting yourself and your family. You couldn't kill Dumbledore and you couldn't let your family die, that's no coward, Draco. That's a survivor."

He was silent. He couldn't talk. He could only cry.

"No parents should make their child protect them. That's the parent's job." She began, handing Draco the box of tissues now. "You were brave for them. You're still brave."

He blew his nose and wiped away his tears. "I don't feel it." He muttered.

"You will one day."

He rolled his eyes. He would never feel brave. He just knew it. "Lighter topic? I don't want to face George with red eyes."

The rest of the time spent was talking about potions, more specifically his pain relieving potion. He's spent months trying to make a non-addictive one and he was so close he could just feel it. He had so many experimental batches and while they were good, they weren't perfect. Draco only sold perfect potions. His tears were long gone, but his face was still swollen and his eyes were red. Jennifer announced their time was up and he exited the office, seeing George sitting in the waiting room. He didn't look much better than Draco.

"Looks like we could both go for a drink." He said, earning a nod from George. They walked out of the hospital and walked to the apparition point.

George held out his arm, "I know a spot." Draco didn't waste any time grabbing onto George. The other didn't waste any time apparating them, either. They were outside of a small pub. It was early enough that nobody was there which was perfect. He didn't want to be around people right now.

The two walked in and up to the bar, sitting on the barstools. It didn't take long for them to get a drink since nobody else was in the bar. Draco sipped on his drink slowly. A question was burning inside of him. He needed answers.

"Hey, George?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" He asked, looking down at his glass. "I figured you'd want to bash my face in or hex me."

George laughed. "I did at one point. Sometimes I even thought about what I'd do if I came close to anyone on the other side." His voice was calm. "I used to be so angry it consumed me. Revenge used to be all I could think about."

"And now?"

"What would bashing your face in do? Sure, I'd feel good for a while. Maybe a week. Would that bring anyone back? Would it bring my brother back? Would it take back the war? No. So what's the point?" George looked over at Draco, "I realized holding on to that anger wouldn't do me any good. The wars over. He's gone. If I continued to hold on to that anger it just means I haven't really gotten past the war. You know? It's been five years. I know it's not a long time by any means, but it's too long to let something like that consume you."

Draco looked at George who was looking at him. "Why did you talk to me?" He was talking about the first day the two interacted, he never understood why George talked to him.

"You looked like you needed someone."

"I had my mind healer."

"Yes and now, you have me."

Draco smiled. "You have me too."

George chuckled and shook his head. "We make an odd pair of friends."

Friends. They were friends.

"I'd cheers to that."

They ended up drinking more than they should've but they didn't care. They were celebrating a new friendship. Two people who were healing from the war. Two people were trying to get better. Even if they were an odd pair, they didn't care.