The Boy Who Lived

Therapy

'Sure, and my real mother was a Cornish Pixie and lived in a fucking teapot. I need a dedicated researcher in the department. I've been telling Robards for months and he's finally signed it off in the budget. Do you want the job?'

Pansy stared up at Harry, hope clearly visible in her stormy eyes, before her gaze fell away and she looked at the floor. 'Why would you offer me a job, Harry? You don't know anything about me, about whether I'm any good at what I do, let alone with our history and the fact that everyone thinks I'm scum for what I said...' her voice faded.

'Oh Merlin,' he dropped to his knees in front of Pansy, leaning back on his heels. 'What have they done to you?' he whispered, horrified by the change in the woman in front of him. 'What's happened to the Pansy from school who was so sharp and full of passion and fight?'

He was surprised at himself for saying that aloud but he didn't let it show. Instead, he offered her a tissue to wipe away a silent tear that trickled down her cheek.

'Do they keep telling you this shit?'

She nodded, not looking at him.

'Did they hurt you, physically?' he said gently.

Pansy shook her head, 'no,' she said. Her voice was quiet and hoarse.

'Okay. Did you see a Mind-Healer after the war?'

She looked at Harry with wide eyes and shook her head.

'I recommend it. It helps a lot with what we went through.'

'It's too late...'

'No, it's not.'

'I deserve this...'

'No, you don't. Is that what that bitch has been telling you?'

Pansy pulled her lower lip between her teeth and looked at the floor.

Harry pursed his mouth, wanting to pull her lip away from between the worrying of her teeth. 'You don't deserve this. I know why you said what you said, Pansy. I understand the pressure we were all under on both sides of the war. I'm guessing it was probably second to hell for you and the prejudices you faced at school, let alone afterwards. I sorry you had to go through it, that we all had to go through it. I'm sorry we fought like we did too.'

He stood up. His heart heavy. He wondered if they'd ever be able to move on from the war. 'I've offered you the job because our history is in the past. I don't believe your "scum", as you put it, and I know you were one of the high achievers in all our classes at Hogwarts so if you can't breeze the job as a researcher for me then I'll fucking kiss Kingsley's beautiful brown arse. I'm going to see if my therapist has a slot and can fit you in...'

'I...' Pansy stumbled, but she didn't protest.

Harry picked up the telephone receiver on his desk and tapped in a number. Mione had been one of the movers in getting the Ministry to incorporate muggle technology into the building. Not all had taken it up but for who those used it, it certainly made life quicker and easier.

'Willow? Hi, it's Harry... Yeh good, no-no, everything's fine, I just wondered if you'd got any appointments, not for me, a friend... Soon as... Tonight? 5.30pm?' He looked at Pansy who nodded fearfully. 'Good, yeh, that's perfect. I'll come too to introduce her... Pansy Parkinson... sure, yeh, bye...'

'Why, Harry?'

'I don't like bullies.'

'I was a bully...'

'Are you a bully now?'

Pansy shook her head.

'Then there's no reason for me not to like you.'