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It was stupid and it was wrong, there was no other way to put it. He did not belong in a stupid support group, definitely not one that had been founded by Hermione Granger, nor was he depressed for that matter! So there was no reasonable argument for him attending Hermione Granger’s new Support Group for the Depressed. Nonetheless here he was, seated in between no one other than Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger herself, staring at the few strands of grass that had escaped Hermione’s picnic blanket, which she had called ‘the judge-free-blanket’. He felt ridiculous and stupid, but he knew he had no other choice and so he kept on staring at those few brave strands, all the while trying to mute Granger’s speech by conjuring thoughts in his mind that reached farther than her voice did.
“Draco?” He didn’t look up, he hoped that if they saw that he did not react they might leave him alone and move on to someone else.
“Malfoy?” he felt a hand on his arm, he flinched and glared up at the man who had dared to touch his arm, the touch burning on the tattoo that hid underneath the sleeve of his white dress shirt. Of course it had to be Potter who’d touched him, no one else would’ve dared to do so anyways.
“Hermione’s been calling your name.” He had been caught red handed. He slowly turned to Granger, an odd sort of numbness taking over his body as he looked her right in the eye. She seemed to be seizing him up, as if she were trying to figure out exactly what his intentions were.
“It’s your turn to speak, Draco, tell us why you’re here.” Draco gulped, he opened his mouth but the words didn’t come out, so he closed it again. He turned to his left again where Potter’s fiery gaze seemed to try to unravel his soul. He quickly averted his own eyes, feeling pressured under the other’s gaze, and focused on the grass again.
“Because my father was an army officer I was told to enter the military school during the war. Luckily or unluckily, one month before the entrance examination, I got polio, which made my right arm numb. It’s still numb,” mumbled Draco. These weren’t his own words, they were the ones of a Japanese physicist, Masatoshi Koshiba, but they would do well enough when interpreted figuratively.
They left him alone after that, moving to another student as soon as it became obvious that he had nothing more to say, but all throughout the ‘session’, as Granger insisted on calling it, he could feel the fiery gaze of Potter on his face, he didn’t look up though. He would not be caught again.
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Draco Malfoy had been dreading the day of the next session, but when the day finally arrived he nearly forgot about it, that was until Harry Potter left his place at the Gryffindor table to come over to him.
“Hey Malfoy,” Harry smiled as he put his hand on Draco’s shoulder, “Don’t forget about support group later, okay? It’s in about half an hour at the lake outside.” Draco looked him up and down before averting his eyes to his supper again. He just nodded, slowly continuing to chew on the piece of chicken in his mouth as he did so.
Harry squeezed his shoulder before heading out of the great hall. Draco could feel Pansy cast an inquisitive gaze in his direction but he chose to ignore her as his thoughts twirled around in his mind, all trying to focus on anything but the smile Potter had cast his way a few minutes ago. It was not an easy feat but by the end of supper he had successfully banned the man from his mind, all thoughts dedicated to the art of potion making instead.
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“Tonight we’ll be talking about each other instead of ourselves,” the wind blew Granger’s hair in her face and ruffled her dress, but nothing seemed to be able to eradicate her smile, “I’ve prepared a small piece of parchment and a quill for every one of you, I’ve also made duo’s. You’re supposed to write down something about your partner, one word will suffice, and then when you’re all done we can talk about it. Now, as for the duo’s…” Draco stopped listening, just stared at the lake, his mind one large vide, a void without a single eloquent thought.
“We’re partners.” Potter handed Draco a piece of parchment and a quill. Draco took them both without looking up, he didn’t want to see that same smile plastered on the other’s face, afraid of how it might tarnish his sanity.
“Do you already know what you’ll write?” Draco shook his head. He didn’t want to interact with Harry Potter, he didn’t want to be in this stupid support group and he definitely didn’t want to actively participate in it.
“Do you maybe know what I could write?” Draco shrugged his shoulders and Potter remained silent after that, Draco’s cold behaviour had successfully shut him up.
“Time’s up! Now, Draco, can you show us what you wrote down?” Hermione’s enthusiasm would’ve agitated the old Draco Malfoy, but his current self couldn’t be bothered with it. He had scribbled something down at the very last moment and with his eyes focused on some far away point behind Hermione’s excited face he flipped the piece of parchment around.
Lonely
“A man can be himself only so long as he is alone, and if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom, for it is only when he is alone that he is really free.” In the words of Arthur Schopenhauer, a German philosopher who’s work Draco had stumbled on in Muggle London a few weeks ago. No one spoke a word for a long time, all of them simply focused on Draco who refused any of their eyes except for Granger’s.
“Harry?” she asked at last, “What have you written down?” Draco didn’t look at Harry as he flipped his piece of parchment around nor did Granger as she kept Draco’s eyes locked with hers.
“I wrote nothing, because I think that that’s why Malfoy is here, he doesn’t feel anything even though he wants to, he’s incapable of doing so.” Potter probably had an awfully lot more to say but Draco did not want to listen to it any more. He broke his gaze with Granger and stood up. He could feel the gazes of the other students on his back but he didn’t look back, he just kept on walking. Nobody ran after him.
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“Hey Malfoy, I’m sorry about last session, I wouldn’t have said it if I’d have known how you would react.” Potter had approached him in the library the day after the second session. Draco had been nose deep into one or other muggle book, by the hand of a man named Kant or something, when Potter had once again put his hand on his shoulder and addressed him in the same friendly manner that he had been prone to doing ever since he had joined the support group.
Draco didn’t reply. He simply stared at the book in front of him, the words swimming in front of his eyes.
“You’re not angry at me, are you?” Draco shook his head slowly, trying with all his might to read the next paragraph and react as little as possible to Potter’s question.
“Phew, that’s a relief. Anyway, see you next session?” Potter squeezed his shoulder in the same way as he had done the day before in the great hall. Draco nodded again. Potter left him alone again but Draco couldn’t focus on the book anymore. Instead he went back to the Slytherin dorms, ignoring Pansy’s inquisitive gaze once more and straight heading to bed, without supper.
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The next session was cancelled but Draco still spend the day that it was supposed to take place in the company of Harry Potter, who had insisted on joining him in the library, even though Draco had sat himself down on a window sill where there was not a single table available nor present for that matter. Potter had simply sat himself down on the floor, underneath the window sill where Draco’s long legs were propped up against his chest, a book from a second hand bookshop by the hand of one or other infamous Muggle writer hidden in between the small space between Draco’s knees and chest.
Potter had taken a book from his bag and sat himself down crossed-legged, the slightly longer strands of Potter’s hair caressing Draco’s clothes calves whenever Potter moved even the slightest bit at first, before the latter simply laid his head against them, tilting his head a little bit backwards and holding his book a bit higher. And so Potter had become Harry, well at least in Draco’s mind he had, for they did not speak.
Draco found it odd at first, but after a while it felt nearly comforting and slowly, even a tad bit unwillingly, a small smile appeared on Draco’s face. Harry didn’t see it, but he knew. He could feel its presence.
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They didn’t speak each other after that, but they did not leave each other’s sides either. Most of their time was spend in each other’s company, reading, eating, listening to music, … It was as if someone had pressed the mute button on them but their conversations were still flowing, they just weren’t audible.
It wasn’t until the next session of The Support Group for the Depressed that Draco got to hear Harry’s voice again and it was odd but Draco longed for it. It was odd because Draco hadn’t longed for anything in such a long time. The feeling was foreign, it squirmed underneath his skin and made his insides tingle, but it was not unwelcome, it somehow felt like being alive again even though he knew that he was dead.
“Today we’ll discuss a difficulty. This could be a traumatic experience, a nightmare, a moment of hardships, etc. Now I know that this is a difficult subject because it’s very personal, but I do believe that if we can discuss it together it’ll help us grow stronger.” Hermione gave every student a reassuring smile.
“Draco? Can you go first?” Draco didn’t want to talk, he just wanted to listen, to Harry.
“Can I go first instead, ‘Mione?” Harry piped up.
“Sure.”
“I died. And I came back to life. But a part of me wanted to stay dead,” Harry said, his voice hoarse as he uttered his last words. He wasn’t finished, Draco could sense that he wasn’t, but something was stopping him from speaking, a barrier that he didn’t dare cross. Even though Draco hadn’t said a single word to Harry yet since the start of the new year, he knew what the other needed.
Draco’s hand shook as it reached for Harry’s knee that had seemed so close at first but now seemed so far. He could feel Harry’s eyes follow it as it travelled from his own knee to the other’s. Harry’s knee felt warm underneath his touch, the hand that the other laid on his even more so.
“Death felt oddly comforting, it was a lot like greeting an old friend, it wasn’t new nor exhilarating, it was just familiar I guess. I liked it. My life had been filled with trial after trial, pretty much like every other person’s life I guess,” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand, “But death didn’t need a hero, death just wanted a companion and I was ready to be that companion.”
“Thank you, Harry, for sharing,” Hermione said. Draco pulled his hand back, the spell had been broken, “Draco? Would you be willing to share your difficulty?” He knew he was allowed to decline but he felt like he ought to at least try and so he resorted to the words of another again.
“Anthropomorphic animals, when taken out of narrative into actual visibility, always turn into buffoonery or nightmare.” C.S. Lewis.
“Thank you, Draco, that was very well put, now…” Draco didn’t listen to the rest of the session, Harry had laid his hand on Draco’s knee somewhere between Draco opening his mouth and the words of the famous writer coming out. Draco had felt his heart again for the first time, had felt its revival in every pore of his being and when he laid in bed that night he had closed his eyes, pictured Harry sitting next to him, a smile on his face, and put his hand on his heart. The war did not visit him that night, for the first time in a long while.
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Everything changed after that day, though to any possible bystander everything probably seemed to stay the same. They still read together, dined together, listened to music together, etc. all in the same quiet manner as they had done before, but the feelings had changed. They touched each other more, it started with a kind caress of the shoulder in the morning at breakfast, followed by brushing shoulders with every step they took from class to class and then there was an arm around a pair of shoulders when they read by the window sill, this time not one of them up high and the other on the ground, but both seated on the cold stones on the floor, thighs touching, sometimes even with one of them resting his head against the other’s shoulder.
It all felt so intimate, so pure and so true. Draco had never felt so alive, not even before Voldemort’s reign. There were sparks everywhere, on every inch of skin that touched Harry, and it felt like magic, but not the treacherous kind that came with a spell.
And he could feel the words come, they weren’t quite there yet, but they would be soon enough. He could feel them gather in the back of his mind, pooling at the root of his brain, they were there.
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The next session, it was time. Draco would speak, the time had come. So when Hermione asked for someone to share a happy memory he raised his hand. She nodded in his direction, giving him the right to speak and he stood up from the ground, for the first time looking every single member of the support group in the eye. There were students there that he had never seen before, wizards and witches of all ages. He felt nervous, his heart beating in his throat.
“I’m happy when you touch me and sad when you don’t, I smile when you smile and weep when you won’t,” Draco gulps, “I’m grateful when you’re there and feel like dying when you’re not, And I’m not supposed to feel, but you make my heart beat more often than not.” Silence. Draco exhales, his hands are shaking by his side.
“The ending is a bit shit, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.” He goes to sit back down, his gaze back on the picnic blanket in front of him. He doesn’t dare to look anyone in the eye, especially not Harry.
“That was beautiful Draco,” Harry whispered, he shuffled a bit closer to Draco and wiped a tear from his cheek. Draco hadn’t even noticed that it had rolled down. He felt his heart race like mad, his eyes wide as Harry leant in even closer.
“Harry,” Draco whispered, his eyes fluttering close. He felt scared, scared of what was yet to come, but Harry didn’t kiss him, not on that day at least, instead he softly brushed his lips against Draco’s cheek, a smile etched on his handsome face as he did so. Draco smiled too as the tears rolled down and Harry’s lips left his skin.
“Don’t worry Draco, we have time.”