Risen- Drarry COMPLETE

Chapter 13

—Harry POV—

"It's good to have you back, Harry. How have we been this last few months? Last time we saw each other was a cut a bit short, yeah?" Dr. Gilroy was nodding her head slowly, as though expecting me to follow. I sighed, shifting in my seat.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I..." I sat there, trying to form words. "I don't like talking." I settled on that. Plain, simple. My leg began to bounce up and down from nerves.

"What is it about talking that bothers you?" She asked, scribbling in her notepad.

"Just-" I took a quick breath, continuing let my leg go up-down up-down. "I don't like... sharing... opening... up." I popped the last 'p' sound, avoiding eye contact. My hands clasped together before I separated them, then brought them back together.

"Okay, that's understandable. Why don't we start to work towards... understanding why. I think that's a good place to start, don't you?"

"I just don't." I explained candidly. "There's not much to it." She gave me an analytical glance, pursing her lips slightly before fixing her position in the spinning chair.

"Have you considered other forms of expression? Other than talking?"

I didn't reply, just staring at her. I stopped my leg from bouncing, getting increasingly annoyed by the sound my shoe was making against the dull carpet. I absentmindedly scratched at my wrist. She glanced at my hands as Draco gently took it, stopping the action.

Dr. Gilroy cleared her throat, pushing her glasses against her nose. "We are aware of your... habit. Tell me, Harry. Why do you hurt yourself?"

"I-I.." my voice betrayed me, preventing an answer to leave my mouth. What bothered me more was Dr. Gilroy's seemingly unending patience as she sat, leaning forward over a crossed leg, waiting for my answer. I squeezed Draco's hand and swallowed hard. "What do you mean, doctor?"

"Well, some people say it's because it makes them feel. Others argue that it stops them from feeling, as in, stops them feeling the pain in their mind. Many say that it's a cry for help- a sign that they want help." I blinked a couple of times, taking in her words.

"I-I guess... it stops me from feeling... I do it to calm down, to quiet my mind... expel the... nervous energy... I guess." I glanced down, then back at her. Draco moved his thumb back and forth against the back of my hand soothingly. Dr Gilroy was still silent.

"I.." Looking to the side, I began to make my leg bounce again. "I panic... o-or just... I-" A sigh escaped me. "I don't know how to describe it..." My heart was thumping loudly against my chest. I brought my hand up the scratch the back of my head briefly, lingering on the back of my neck, before I brought it down quickly. I squeezed Draco's hand tighter and scooted closer to him, so that our sides were touching. I was resisting the urge to pick at my scars out of nervous habit.

"I have noticed you do have a tendency to fidget, among other things." She responded after writing down more things. "So, going back on other forms of expelling that energy; there are many methods that people use- outlets for their feelings." She pushed her glasses up her nose again.

"Writing, for example. Or music- playing an instrument, singing, dancing... others like to draw or paint as well. Some people squeeze a pillow or a stress ball. Some take hot showers... Exercise... if you have a pet, you can play with it... anything in particular that really interests you..." she kept pausing as if she expected me to enthusiastically tell her 'yes! That suggestion seems great!' But I couldn't bring myself to react to her words. In the end, it was Draco who spoke for me.

"He has a tendency to make his showers, uhm... too hot. And he's never really been one for painting or singing, and he's a rubbish dancer." Draco and I both chuckled slightly at the last bit.

"Well you don't have to be any good. It's just a way to channel your feelings and let go of that urge to hurt yourself." Dr Gilroy explained.

"I used to play quidditch back in school..." I cut in, wanting to feel like I had something useful to give to the conversation. "A... wizard sport. I don't quite do that anymore though... It's just... memories." I explained. My voice and demeanor getting smaller as I concluded my statement.

"Okay, that's understandable. Well, our time here is almost out, but. Just before we wrap things up, let's go over your homework." I raised an eyebrow, looking at her. "Find an outlet for your feelings that isn't harmful. Next time we see each other, tell me how it went."

————

The next several weeks turned out in stark contrast to my usual. Draco tried something new with me almost every time that I showed the signs of having another fit. The first time, I was irritated at myself for not taking swift action against Rita Skeeter, as I concluded after her latest Daily Prophet article, along with the Ministry losing their heads over her getting away. That day, Draco showed me how he'd begun learning piano. He let me smash the keys in awful cacophonous chords, and he also taught me some basics- I learned that I have 'an awful sense of rhythm' in Draco's exact words.

The next thing we tried was drawing. I was mad at myself again. I was feeling self-critical... it was one of those times where I'd end up crying over my panic. Draco helped project the urge to scratch myself onto a piece of paper. I scribbled violently, drawing a giant bundle of ink that got darker and grew as I continued on relentlessly. I scratched a hole into several pieces of parchment that day, and I still cried afterwards, but it was a tired sort of cry- I was coming down from my violent anger, and I just needed to let myself go.

Another day, I hadn't been feeling bad at all, but Scorpius wanted to practice flying on his broom. Draco was there to teach Scorpius fun moves. The three of us flew around under a disillusionment charm.

I hadn't been in a broom since seventh year. I hadn't been on a broom since the war.

The overwhelming relief that flooded through me, sending delightful chills throughout my entire body as I sat on my broom for no reason other than pure leisure, was exhilarating. I felt like a happy teenager whose problems had become weightless. I had become weightless. I could do anything.

Sadly, we can't fly often, because Draco noticed I wasn't the safest flier on earth, ducking under branches, making sharp turns, and doing all sorts of flips in spaces where we really didn't have much room. He was worried that if I got on a broom during one of my moments, I'd hurt myself. And he made it quite clear that he didn't want to be counter productive. We agreed that we can keep the flying for fun, for good times.

I still had the days where I couldn't move, of course, and I still wasn't the most accomplished eater on earth, but overall, things were okay. Yes, sometimes our adventures in 'finding an outlet' had me drained and unwilling to do much more in the day, but I had Draco with me, helping me along the way- respecting my limits, comforting me when I needed it, and keeping me in check.

Things were looking okay. Draco said he was seeing improvement, that I was smiling a little bit more. I'll never forget his smile, his fond appearance, his devoted eyes, as he looked at me, prouder than ever.

He said that things were looking up.