I'm Coming For You, Draco Malfoy!

A New Therapist

Despite the moment in the hospital wing, nothing more was said about me being desperate to get into Harry's ever-so-tight pants.

Yes, we talked. We talked about everything. Even the hard stuff. But not about us.

I'm not sure why Harry didn't raise it again and I couldn't. Something in me felt like it was all definitely this political game for him. I felt like he didn't feel the same as I did.

But I also thought how could he feel like that about me? I suppose I began to believe the mutterings that I wasn't worthy. So, although he already had my heart, I didn't want him breaking it as he amused himself by rebelling against expectations. As a result, despite that moment, I returned to my arrogant but closed persona, with flirty smiles that didn't go anywhere.

Even with my displays of confidence, I was, unsurprisingly, very flinchy after the attack and I didn't like being alone in dark corridors or in the warren of corridors that led to the dungeons, especially as I could never tell who might be hiding around any of the corners in the shadows. The others were good—amazing. They seemed to silently understand my inherent need for someone to be with me between classes or on the way to the Great Hall. It was probably Hermione. She probably had a quiet word with them and rallied them all together to offer me the security that I so desperately needed.

She also spent hours locked away with me in an empty classroom. She'd hauled me off after Potions class a few days after the attack.

'Dray,' she's said quietly that first time.

She sat on a chair by one of the disused desks watching me carefully. I was aware she was reading me, analysing my every moment. I had no doubt that she was seeing through every layer of defence that I had built around me.

'I want you to talk to me,' she said quietly.

I was shocked by her use of the endearment but I didn't let it show. 'What about, Hermione,' I'd said sharply, utterly unsure that I could be open with her. I wasn't being completely open with Harry about my feelings, so how could I be with her, someone I barely knew and had derided for the last seven years.

'How are you coping... after the attack?'

I'd looked at her blankly. 'With whom, with what?'

'I noticed you jumped when Ron shouted your name across the courtyard earlier. And you were shaking after you'd come to class by yourself. You hide it well but, well, I spent a year looking after Harry when we were on the run. I'm used to seeing the signs that fear is being suppressed.'

'Harry was afraid?'

'Of course he was. He'd be inhuman not have been. He realised long before the rest of us that he had one of the Horcruxes inside him. He knew we had to destroy them and that only meant one thing—he had to be destroyed too. He had no reason to think he'd come back out of the Forbidden Forest once he'd handed himself over to Voldemort so yes, he was scared. He was bloody petrified, but he hid it, from everyone, including me and Ron. That may not have been the best or healthiest option to carry that alone but at least Morgan helped him after the war. I wondered if we needed to ask McGonagall for you to see Morgan too.'

I looked away, unwilling to admit I needed help.

'I'm sorry to be blunt, especially when it's all so raw, but that assault isn't something to be taken lightly or dismissed as nothing, particularly after the last few years and what you've been put through. And I know I'm not your closest friend, perhaps not the most obvious choice to talk to but, well... as much as I like Pansy these days, it's quite clear that certain appearances are a necessity. I guess I'm saying trust me. I'm not someone you need to impress and I have no interest in ridiculing you or using this for my own gain. I suppose, if you need a motive, it's for Harry...'