"Get up. Come on. Malfoy, you've got to get up."

Potter's voice cut through Draco's delicious sleep that he had spent several hours staring at the ceiling to earn. It had been Potter's fault, of course. Draco had tried to think about anything but Potter as he lay in bed, but it was like trying not to think of pink elephants.

"No," Draco muttered.

"Yes. You've got a meeting today, don't you? At the mind healing ward?" Potter asked.

Draco grimaced, reluctantly opening his eyes, "What time is it?"

"Lunchtime," Potter said. He knelt down next to Draco's bed.

"What?" Draco frowned, "Why are you here? Aren't you meant to be working?"

"Lunchtime," Potter repeated, amusement lacing his voice.

"Oh," Draco said dumbly.

Potter set a small bag and a large paper cup next to the mattress, "I brought you some of those danish you like."

Draco pushed himself up in surprise.

"And a latte," Potter said, "It's a mocha. I figured since you didn't complain last time you must have liked it."

Draco stared at him.

Potter stared back, "...You don't like it?"

"No! I do," Draco said quickly.

"...Alright?"

"I just... this is...." Draco blinked rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from his mind, "What is this?"

"Well, the only thing you ever really asked me for was danish. So I figured that I couldn't get that wrong." Potter said.

"And money," Draco said before he could stop himself.

"Yeah," Potter patted his pockets until he found a few folded twenty-pound notes, "Here."

"I don't-"

"For the shoes," Potter said, "And you could use more clothes. Get something warmer for yourself, yeah? You should have time before the meeting. It's a couple hours off."

Draco nodded.

When Draco didn't take the money, Potter slipped the notes underneath the bag of pastries.

"I've got to get back to work," Potter said. He stood up, shaking his robes straight. "So.... Right."

"Thank you," Draco said before Potter walked off.

Potter's brow furrowed, "I don't think I will ever get used to that."

"What?"

"You. Saying thank you," Potter said. He ruffled his hair and drew his wand from the hostler on his side.

"It's polite," Draco said.

Potter shrugged absently. He rolled the handle of his wand between his fingers in a nervous sort of absent-minded gesture. "Err, and uh, think about what you want for dinner. I can order whatever."

Draco nodded.

"...Right," Potter said, abruptly turning and walking the few steps to his room.

A few seconds later, there was a crack as Potter apparated away.

The danish was just as good the second time, and the latte was divine. It was barely enough to convince Draco to get out of the bed. He went to a second-hand shop to buy a few jumpers and a pair of simple black shoes, dull and scuffed at the toes.

When went to St Mungo's and he found the small room they had met in before, only Jasmine was inside. Her arms were crossed and her leg tapped insistently on the floor. Draco considered turning right around and walking back to the waiting room, but Jasmine spotted him before he could.

"You showed," Jasmine said, sitting up with a serious expression.

Draco took a quick breath, trying to head this off as best he could, "When I had to take the mark, my father was in prison, and V-Voldemort was living in my house, with many of his followers. I had no choice in the matter."

Jasmine grinned in amusement, "Right out of the gate with it, then?"

Draco hesitated, thrown off by her reaction.

"Look," Jasmine said, letting her arms unfold. "Iris talked it through with me. We were both teenagers and-" she sighed, "-I suppose, you had as much control of things as I did."

Draco blinked.

Jasmine shrugged.

"You don't sound terribly convinced," Draco said.

"That's 'cause I'm not," Jasmine said. "...But I can see where she's coming from."

Draco hesitated and then nodded. "Very well. I'll take it."

Jasmine raised an eyebrow, "That's pretty accommodating of you."

Draco smiled tightly, "I assume most people would prefer me dead. So I try to take anything else as a boon."

Jasmine frowned slightly, "I don't want you dead. I didn't- I-"

"-would rather see me in Azkaban," Draco said.

Jasmine made a non-committal sound.

Draco sat across from her, hooking an ankle over his knee as he leaned back against the cushioned back. "I went to Azkaban while awaiting trial. For three months. And between you and I? I would rather be dead than in that place."

"Well... that's...." Jasmine laughed, "Merlin-fuck, you're dramatic, aren't you?"

Draco sniffed, "I was simply being accurate."

Jasmine laughed harder, rocking forward in her chair, her locks swinging around her shoulders.

"I hear laughing; that must be a good sign?" Iris said as she pulled open the door.

"She's laughing at me," Draco said peevishly.

"I managed not to scare him off this time," Jasmine said.

Draco frowned, "I wasn't scared. I was angry."

"Not what I meant," Jasmine said.

"Just so long as you're aware," Draco said.

Jasmine shook her head, the expression on her face saying 'men'.

Draco gave her a mild glare and then directed his attention to Iris. "Did I miss a lot after I left last time?"

"After you left, we talked about trauma responses," Iris said, sitting down in a chair. "I didn't want to get into too much personal stuff if you aren't all here. I want the four of you to be a team."

Jasmine looked unimpressed.

Draco smiled faintly, "Sounds a bit trite."

"Authentic connection is an important part of life," Iris said, "We're human. And human beings are a social species. We need each other." She grinned, "But yes, I suppose you could call it 'trite'."

"Well," Draco said absently, not sure how to continue. "...Perhaps you could brief me on what I missed."

Jasmine groaned, "...it's so boring."

Iris sat back, swinging her feet under the chair, "What do you know about trauma triggers?"

"I have to admit, our last meeting was a bit fraught," Iris said as Jarold, the last of their group, came in and sat down.

Jasmine rolled her eyes, "Sorry, I guess."

Jarold shook his head at her.

Emad had pulled his feet up on the edge of his chair, hugging his knees to his chest. He hadn't said anything since coming in, simply managing a forced smile aimed at no one in particular before sitting down.

"This time, I'd really like everyone to try and get to know one another a bit. Preferably without lashing out," Iris said.

"I said I was sorry," Jasmine said.

"And I didn't mean just you," Iris said patiently.

Jasmine sighed heavily.

"We all know each other's names," Iris said, but looked to each of them in turn and repeated them anyway, "Jasmine, Emad, Jarold, Draco and me, Iris. So today maybe we could talk about what brought you here to this group, or simply something about yourself, or just anything you like."

There was a long awkward stretch of silence where they all avoided looking at one another.

Iris laughed, "Okay. I'll be the bad guy then. Jasmine, will you start? Why are you in group today?"

"Because my mum said she'd kick me out if I didn't shape up," Jasmine said flatly.

"You live with your parents?" Iris asked.

Jasmine frowned fiercely even though Iris' tone hadn't been confrontational, "With my mum and step-father."

"I take it you and your step-father do not have a very close relationship," Iris said.

"Yeah, no," Jasmine said caustically.

"Any siblings?" Iris asked.

Jasmine's frown ticked down a fraction, "Little brother. Half brother."

"Hmm," Iris said thoughtfully, "What about your father then? What happened to him?"

Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest, "Left when I was little. He and Mum were just messing about. He must have found someone else to bugger and just took off." She looked down at her knees, "...I don't really remember him. So it doesn't matter."

"If it matters to you, it does matter," Iris said.

"No one else gives a fuck," Jasmine snapped. "Mum certainly doesn't care."

"You are not your mother," Iris said with a shrug. "What matters to you, matters to you. End of discussion."

"Yeah, well, no one cares about me," Jasmine said sulkily.

"Do you?" Iris asked.

Jasmine frowned, "What kind of fucking question is that?"

"The most important one," Iris said. "We have to live in here-" she tapped the side of her head, "-we live in our minds, in our bodies, for our whole lives. The only certain thing we have is ourselves. So if no one else cares, you do, and you have you, so that should be enough to stand up for those feelings."

Jasmine shook her head, "What?"

"It's like... people come and go and, of course, it's better to have someone, as I said humans are social creatures, but if we don't, well, we still have ourselves. I think it's very important to cultivate a strong relationship with ourselves." Iris shifted her weight in the chair, "And I don't mean you have to love yourself. That would be nice, but it's not always possible. I mean more that- that you should strive to find peace with yourself."

Jarold raised his hand.

"You don't have to raise your hand Jarold. You can speak freely here," Iris said.

Jarold slowly dropped his hand, "...I was just gonna say that I like myself alright."

"Congratulations," Jasmine muttered.

"I, for one, am jealous," Draco said.

Emad nodded.

"Why are you here, then? Mr happy with himself," Jasmine asked.

"Err, well," Jarold scratched his cheek absently, "...I was- Now you've got to understand it was just a temporary thing. I was gonna stop. I just- I just needed a bit of a hand up."

"Yeah, right," Jasmine said.

"I mean it!" Jarold insisted. "I just wanted to show Ms Lemon I can do it, so she might give me a chance on the field."

"Ms Lemon?" Draco asked.

"She's the head coach," Jarold said, "She decides the game-day roster."

Jasmine made a knowing noise in the back of her throat.

"You're hoping she'll put you on the first string?" Draco asked.

"I'd- I'd settle for a practice game," Jarold stuttered. "I just wanted a chance, is all."

"You train with the team-" Draco started.

"That isn't the same!" Jarold interrupted. "I want to play a real game against other players!"

"How long have you been with Puddlemere?" Draco asked.

"Two years. I was scouted right out of school," Jarold said.

"Well, it takes time to move into the first string-" Draco said.

"Two-! How old are you!?" Jasmine interrupted.

"Nineteen-"

"You're just a baby!" Jasmine said, delighted and amused.

"I am not," Jarold grumbled.

"Oh, Merlin!" Jasmine laughed, "I mean, we're all in our twenties-"

"That's not that much older," Jarold said.

"It's a lifetime," Jasmine said, "Were you even in school during the war?"

Jarold frowned but begrudgingly answered her, "I was a first year when the battle of Hogwarts happened. And it's a good thing too, or I'd have missed out on quidditch tryouts."

Jasmine laughed.

Draco frowned.

"I was lucky, you know," Jarold went on, "Beaters almost never come from the second years. You need a lot of strength for it, but I've always been big for my age, and strong. My Da, he always said I was made for quidditch."

"Wait," Draco interrupted, "So you went through the worst year of the war, in Hogwarts, under the Carrows?"

"Yeah?" Jarold said.

"It didn't affect you?" Draco said.

Jarold shrugged his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt straining slightly under the movement, "I kept to myself, kept my head down. I dunno. During the battle, they got all us firsties out of the castle through that secret picture tunnel, like. I didn't even see much."

"That's..." Draco trailed off, feeling like something was wrong but couldn't put his finger on what.

"Has quidditch always been an important part of your life?" Iris asked.

"Oh, yeah," Jarold said, "My Da's a huge Puddlemere United fan. He went to every game he could and listened to the one's he couldn't on the wireless. One of my first memories was him taking me to a game when I was little. Or, well, littler. My Mum always said I was a trial an a half to pop out. I was a whole stone when I was born, you know, that big."

"Do you have anything else?" Draco asked.

"What? What'ya mean?" Jarold asked.

"Other... hobbies," Draco said, "Other than quidditch?"

Jarold blinked and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "I like working out."

"That's for quidditch, though, isn't it?" Draco said.

Jarold frowned, his tone becoming defensive, "Yeah? So? It's what I'm good at. I'm good at it, and I like it, and that's alright."

"Obviously not," Jasmine said, "Or you wouldn't be here." she pointed down at the circle of chairs.

Jarold glared at her. "Look. I'm here cause someone ratted me out to the coach that I was using some potions, and like I told her, it was just to sharpen me up, like, not for anything nefarious or nothin'. So she said if I went cold-turkey and did this therapy thing, she'd let me come back for training next season."

"But not to play," Jasmine said pointedly.

Jarold shifted again, heming and hahing, "It's not that simple. I messed up, and now I gotta earn her trust back, don't I?" He sat back in his chair, slapping his hands on his thighs, "So that's what I'm gonna do."

"I'm glad you're ready to do the work," Iris said.

Jarold nodded, "Yeah. Anything to get back out there on the pitch."

Jasmine snorted under her breath.

"Emad?" Iris said, "Do you want to tell us about yourself?"

Emad looked over his knees at her, his eyes clearly begging to be allowed not to. But Iris didn't waver, just kept smiling at him encouragingly.

Emad sighed, dropping his head on his knees. His voice came out muffled from between his legs. "I live with my parents, above their shop. We moved here as soon as I finished my exams."

"It must have been difficult, leaving your friends behind and moving to a new country," Iris said.

Emad shook his head slightly, "I didn't have any friends."

"None?" Iris asked.

"When I was little, but then they- we- it fell apart," Emad said, "I didn't know how to talk to them anymore."

"When did it fall apart?" Iris asked.

"I was thirteen," Emad said. His thick brown-black hair slipped over his forehead and dusted the tops of his knees. "I- That's when it started."

Iris waited for a moment, then asked, "What started?"

"Everything," Emad said flatly. "That's when everything went wrong."

Iris' expression softened, "Will you tell us about what happened?"

Emad let out a short, bitter laugh, "Nothing. It was fine. It... It was me. I was broken. I was wrong. That's all."

"It sounds like you were in a lot of pain," Iris said.

"I was fine," Emad muttered, "It's up here that's broken." he tapped the side of his head.

"You hate yourself." Emad looked up. Everyone in the circle turned to look at Draco.

"I didn't mean to say that," Draco said quickly, embarrassment heating his cheeks.

"Why did you?" Iris asked.

"I don't-" Draco hesitated. "...because I... It felt right? But I could be wrong. I just thought...."

"You're not wrong," Emad said quietly.

Draco inexplicably still felt like apologising. He squeezed his hands together tightly.

"Have you ever seen a healer about it? Or a muggle doctor?" Iris asked.

"When I was sixteen, Maman took me to a doctor. I don't remember what I told him or if Maman spoke for me..." Emad said. "He gave me a prescription for an antidepressant."

"Did it help you?" Iris asked.

Emad shrugged one shoulder, "A bit, I think. I wasn't happy or anything, but I didn't want to die as much."

"Are you still taking it?" Iris asked.

Emad shook his head, "No. When I tried to take potions on it, I had really bad reactions."

Iris nodded, "Yes. I'm afraid wizarding potions tend to flush muggle medications out of our system, causing sudden withdrawal. It can be quite dangerous."

"What?" Jasmine said.

Iris nodded, "Muggle antidepressants are wonderful compared to where our magic is now concerning mental healing. But once you start them, it's imperative not to use potions because that could cause withdrawal."

"That's bullshit," Jasmine said.

"Extremely bullshit," Iris agreed solemnly.

"Why don't they teach us shit like that in school?" Jasmine said.

"I wish I knew," Iris said.

"Fuck," Jasmine muttered. She flicked her hair back and looked at Draco, "Last up. Why are you here?"

Before Draco could answer, Jasmine tried a few guesses herself.

"You were in the detox tank with me, so you must have been using something," Jasmine said. "I bet it was something stupid posh, like liquid luck or brain elixir."

"No and no," Draco said.

Jasmine's brow furrowed in thought, "....Mopsus Potion?"

Draco shook his head.

"How about Exstimulo?" Jasmine guessed.

"No," Draco sighed.

Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest, "What was it then?"

"I was a drunk," Draco said.

Jasmine gasped, "The fuck you were!"

Draco shrugged, "If it makes you feel any better, most of the alcohol I had access to was absurdly expensive."

"Giggle water, fire whiskey, Elf wine?" Jasmine asked.

"Just wine. Our family has- had quite an extensive wine cellar," Draco said.

"I'm more of beer bloke," Jarold said.

"I don't really drink," Emad said.

"What about you?" Jasmine asked Iris.

Iris smiled, "I like to drink on occasion when I go out with friends."

"I liked mixed drinks," Draco said, "Anything to hide the taste of the alcohol."

"What? What?!" Jasmine sat forward suddenly, bracing her hands on her knees, "What kind of drunk doesn't like the taste?! You said you drank wine! Wine!"

Draco sighed, "I did. Now I can't stand it. Even the smell," he closed his eyes as a shudder went through him.

"We can often develop strong sense memories," Iris said, "You drank wine during the most difficult time in your life. So now the smell or taste of wine can trigger the emotions and memories you experienced during that time."

Draco nodded hesitantly, "...that makes sense."

"Then why drink?" Jasmine asked, "Like, if the taste of alcohol fucks you up so bad, why did you keep drinking it?"

Draco shrugged weakly, hugging his arms around his stomach, "It helps. It helps me."

"Do you want to talk more about it?" Iris asked.

Draco laughed dryly, "Not really."

"No, come on!" Jasmine said.

"Yeah... I don't get it," Jarold said.

Draco shrugged, "It just made it easier. The world wasn't as sharp. It made my mind shut up."

Emad sighed, "That sounds nice."

"Emad..." Iris started.

"Don't worry," Emad said quietly, "I'm not going to start drinking. It makes my depression worse."

"Alright," Iris nodded. "I wish we could keep talking, but we've used our hour. I'm really happy with what we accomplished today."

Jasmine rolled her eyes. Jarold jumped to his feet, ready to go.

"Before we go," Iris said, reaching into her robes and drawing out a handful of notecards. She gave one to each of them. The cards had all their names listed on them. "I want you to be able to owl one another and talk outside of group if you want."

"Cause we're such besties now," Jasmine said sarcastically.

"Every relationship starts somewhere," Iris said. "If you need help or are in crisis, please contact me or come back to the mind healing ward. We will do everything we can to help you."

"Yeah, yeah," Jasmine said impatiently.

"And I have a little homework assignment for you until our next meeting," Iris said.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I want you to do something you've always wanted to do," Iris said.

"What?" Jasmine laughed.

"If you've ever wanted to paint something, learn an instrument, take a salsa dancing class, anything. You could eat a carton of ice cream or go to your favourite restaurant. No matter how small or silly it seems. I want you to go out and do something."

"Should we write a book report on it for our next class?" Jasmine asked.

Iris grinned, "No. No book report. But it would be a nice thing to talk about next time we meet, wouldn't it?"

"Oral presentation then. Got it," Jasmine said, standing up and heading towards the door, "Next week then."

Iris waved cheerfully.

Jarold left right on her heel with a gruff, "Bye."

Draco ended up leaving with Emad, the two of them walking awkwardly side by side.

"What are you going to do?" Emad asked cautiously.

"I haven't a clue," Draco said.

"I might-" Emad hesitated, then said quietly, "...I don't know either."

Draco glanced over at Emad as he shoved his hands into his pockets, hair falling over his eyes. He rather wished he had made something up. But before he could rectify his mistake, Emad picked up his pace and hurried ahead of Draco down the hallway.

Potter wouldn't be off work for a few hours more, so Draco went back to his old building.

Elle was sitting outside her flat in her scruffy old armchair, reading a newspaper. Draco leaned against the railing, and they took turns reading the articles out loud and making fun of the contents. Though usually, when it was Draco's turn to read, Elle spent more time teasing Draco about all the shit he didn't know.

Draco was mostly glad not to know. It seemed to him that half the things muggles got up to in the news were either utterly terrifying or soul shatteringly boring.

Elle invited him to order takeaway with her, but Draco decided to head back to Potter's flat.

"It's always good to see you," Elle said, giving Draco a hug before he left. She smacked the newspaper into his hands, "And take this with you. It's depressing."

"Then why read it?" Draco asked, amused.

"Bored," Elle said. "My brother left it here last time he was here."

"What about your library books?" Draco asked.

"I read through them already, and Georgey, the sexy librarian boy, won't be back until monday," Elle said.

"Is this the George that's pushing sixty and always wearing an ugly sweater vest?" Draco asked.

"Draco, anyone who brings me books, is the sexiest person in the world to me."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "I shall have to bring you some books then."

Elle threw her head back and laughed. "You are not my type!"

"Nor are you mine," Draco said dryly, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to miss out on being called the sexiest person in the world."

"Oh my god!" Elle laughed even harder, "You are such an attention whore!"

Draco grinned, "See you later, Elle."

Elle waved him off, "Get a fucking phone! I want to call you!"

"Okay! Okay!" Draco said with a laugh as he headed down the stairs.

He went around the back of the building and apparated back to Potter's flat.

Potter was already back, pretending to watch a television show but mostly was leafing through a pile of takeaway menus.

"Hello, Potter," Draco said, walking over to the couch.

Potter frowned faintly.

"I'm not late," Draco said, a little defensively.

Potter looked over his shoulder at the clock in the kitchen, "...I guess not. So... So you were hanging out with your friends?"

"And reading the paper," Draco said, dropping the folded up newspaper on the top of the couch.

Potter caught the paper as it slipped off the cushions and looked over the front page, "This is from days ago."

"So?" Draco said. "The words don't melt off the page after a day."

Potter smiled faintly, "I'm surprised the Prophet hasn't thought of that yet."

"Skeeter is far too vain to have her words destroyed so easily," Draco said.

Potter made an annoyed noise. He set the paper down next to him, holding up the take-away menus, "Do you know what you want?"

"No. Haven't given it a single thought," Draco said.

Potter frowned, "Malfoy-"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Just give me a couple of choices that you would like, and I shall pick one."

Potter hesitated and then nodded, "Alright." He started making a pile of what Draco assumed were his rejected choices.

Draco's gaze fell back on the newspaper. One of the smaller side articles was about the London aquarium, Sea Life's, jellyfish exhibit, the biggest in the UK.

"Do you want to go to the aquarium?" Draco asked, not quite realising he'd said it.

Potter looked up at him in surprise.

"I-"

"Why the aquarium?" Potter asked.

"Because I've never been," Draco said.

"Okay," Potter said.

Draco stared at him.

"I've never been either." Potter cleared his throat and looked back down at the menus. "I like these three; what do you think?"

"Fish and chips," Draco said.

"That's not any of the choices- You know what? Yeah, that sounds good. I know a place," Potter said, standing up.