Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sunday 02/09/2001 - 02:37 am - POV Draco

Sometimes when there is a major rupture about to happen you can feel it in the air around you, in your body, in your soul… it feels like the shift is to great to just pass by like every other moment. The time slows down until everything seems like it stands completely still. A tiny eternity for an important incident that will grow slowly but steady to eventually cause a supernova, giving birth to a new universe, a new reality.

Standing here on this railing of the Tower Bridge kinda feels like that right now. Draco can sense the deep meaningful event in every fibre of his being.

His mind is shortly occupied by the memory of combining his most expensive Firewhiskey with self-made (well, more like self-improved) Ecstasis… maybe that plays a part in this ominous feeling, here in the middle of the night, looking 42 metres down into the dark void of the Thames.

The warm summer wind is blowing faintly through his platinum blond curls while his left hand holds onto the metal pillar next to him. He recognises the feeling of numbness in his fingers caused by the high muscular tone in his hand. Increasing the pressure of his grip before letting a bit more loose, now barely touching the metal.

Would it hurt to let go? Falling down crushing into the water? It would probably only take a few seconds to hit the surface… Could I react in time? Saving myself with a spell? Would I want that..?

Images like these are not exactly new to Draco but usually there is not an immediate opportunity for his intrusive thoughts to become reality.

Next time I should add mince to the potion to avoid this feeling of prowess through self-destruction.

Before he heard the voice, he knew someone was approaching him. Years of terror in your own home and a war standing on the wrong side makes one especially aware of all kinds of movement around you, even if you are completely intoxicated.

“Malfoy?”

Good Merlin… this is just perfect. The universe must truly abominate me.

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Sunday 02/09/2001 - 12:53 am - POV Hermione

“I just don’t get it. Why are you so stubborn about therapy? There is nothing wrong with-“

“I’m not some crazy person who needs to be locked away just because you insult me and I try to defend myself.”

Ron is shouting while throwing his arms around in fury motions. His normally light skin with freckles is completely red, heated from his anger. His icy blue eyes are piercing through Hermione and his red hair looks like he just survived a hurricane.

It’s always the same discussion. After coming home from work - often multipel hours later than planned - Ron and Hermione start a stiff but civil conversation until one of them - often Hermione - says something wrong.

Today is no different. The witch just told her boyfriend of three years why she was coming home late: her friend and coworker Penelope needed to leave work early so that she wouldn’t miss her appointment with her Mindhealer. That’s why Hermione had to finish the paperwork alone. She didn’t think about her words that much because that is just what happened so why should she sugar-code it? She knew that therapy was a hot topic in their relationship but she hadn’t intended her comment to turn into a fight about her thinking that Ron should see a Healer himself.

Their romance started out hale with the typical perks and difficulties of being in a serious relationship for the first time. Maybe it would have been fine if they were normal young adults trying to figure out their life after graduation. Unfortunately they are ⅔ of the Golden Trio, war heros and therefore of public and political interest since the war ended. Well, actually since they were in first grade at Hogwarts defeating one of Voldemort’s helping hands, professor Quirrell.

So instead of common problems they have to live with the result of being famous for over a decade now. News reporters and gossip magazines writing about every little rumour in existence, important political figures trying to get to befriend them so they would help their campaign for a law or an election, people in bars basically taking up all their time because they just want to talk to them for a few minutes so they could say “we meet the famous golden couple”… it was really exhausting to be aware of all of the attention and manoeuvre through it while also having personal problems.

It’s in the nature of their fame that other people tend to forget that they are still normal human beings, especially after they won a war on their own against on of the darkest wizards of all time with only 17/18 years old… but it still made Hermione wonder how nobody seems to understand that they suffer the same consequences as everybody else. She talked about this with Penelope today which is why her friend admitted she just started seeing a Mindhealer because she has nightmares almost every night. Just like Hermione. Or Ron as a matter of fact.

It confirmed a contemplation of hers: All wizards and witches should start some kind of medical treatment after the war. Single and/or group therapy, per scripted potions, self-helping groups, anything really. Whatever the person needs or would help best in their healing process.

Sadly Ron stands on the opposite side of that perception. Maybe it’s because the concept of “Mindhealing” was quite new for the wizarding world. That’s probably why for him only physical hurt people would need treatment or brainwashed kids who were forced to perform dark magic with the thread of being tortured otherwise… and that apparently only counts when you were younger than them because Ron made himself rather clear what he thinks about their old classmates who were positioned on the wrong side of the war, with multipel comments of his incomprehension why Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, Pansy, Greengrass and some other weren’t sentenced to spend the rest of their lives in Askaban.

So here they are - arguing for the trillionths time about therapy. Ron being on the edge of a violent outburst while Hermione tries to deescalate the situation. Not that Ron would ever hurt her. Sometimes it’s hard for him to regulate his emotions so he destroys some furniture or throws tableware against the wall. Which would be a perfect example to drive home the point of him needing professional help but when they reach that state of a fight, Hermione just leaves instantly trying to avoid an upcoming panic-attack.

Right now the conversation is dangerously close to lighting up the match for the powder barrel of Ron’s temper.

“Ron… I don’t think you are crazy and should be locked away. I’m sorry that I hurt you with what I said. I was just trying to tell you about Penelope and how much better she’s been since she started her therapy. And to be honest I also thought about seeing a Mindhealer myself.”

Startled by this revelation the red haired man stares at her. “Why?”

Unsure how to interpret his body language and tone of his voice Hermione tries to open herself up a bit. Maybe her honest vulnerability would help him to understand. It could help to make him feel actually more connected to her.

“I’m struggling myself with a lot of things after everything that happened. You know I also have flashbacks, blackouts, panic attacks and nightmares. I hoped they would just disappear with time and patience but it has been over three years now. So I think it’s time to follow my own proposition and make an appointment at St. Mungo’s. We could go together and figure something out?”

Before she finished her question she knew that the phrasing was wrong. She registers how Ron’s whole body shifts into his most aggressiv state. He comes closer to her, towering Hermione, his voice cold as ice.

“So you thought about it to make me go to therapy? To tell me how awful you feel around me? To tell a stranger what you hate about our relationship instead of just talking to me directly?!”

“No, that was not- I just- wait, I think my point didn’t came across the right way… I was only trying to-“

“Ah so now I’m the idiot that cannot for his bloody life understand the brilliant Hermione Granger no matter what, huh?!”

The witch can feel the panic attack rising up to her chest. This is just so erroneous… how does it always conclude into this?

Oh god… I can’t… I need to leave.

“I’m done” was all she said while she leaves the kitchen, going straight to her sneakers, putting them on and almost running out of the front door, only halfway noting that her boyfriend was shouting something at her.

How much longer can I endure all that..? This whole relationship is a juxtaposition of fights and mental breakdowns…

Her heart hurts like she was having a stroke, her breaths are short and irregular as if she run a marathon, a sting behind her right eye starts to intensify and the itching feeling of her left forearm makes her want to rip her whole fucking limp off.

Though it is a warm September night she wears long sleeves. That was a habit she had formed after what happened in the Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix. The scar is not really visible anymore but she could still feel it like the letters were engraved into her skin only yesterday. Getting them out of her sight helps… when she is not having a mental breakdown.

She thinks about the 3-3-3-method she read about in a muggle book titled “Panic Disorders: When Panic Attacks and How To Fight Back”.

First: three objects I can see.

There is a street lamp. A blue Vauxhall Vectra Saloon. And a bright red fire hydrant.

Second: three sounds I can hear.

I can hear a bird, maybe an owl. Someone’s voice, sounding like they are on the phone. And the noise of traffic in the distance.

Third: three different movements with my body.

She starts to turn her head slowly in circles for a few times. Then she shakes her arms and lifts them up as if she was trying to stretch herself to reach the sky. After a few seconds she kicks off afar from her home and runs and runs and runs until she is out of breath.

…

Hands on her knees, her curly dark brown hair falls into her vision while standing bent over, inhaling a combination of her floral shampoo and the city air, not caring where she is right now or if someone could recognise her.

After catching her breath she checks her watch.

02:31 am… how long did I actually run..? It only felt like few moments.

For the first time Hermione tries to look around to make out where her feet took her when she let them take over.

Right in front of her is the Tower Bridge and she thinks about calling a cab or just apparating to get back but she doesn’t want to go home just yet. So the brown-haired witch starts to walk across the bridge enjoying the empty path and the rest of this calming summer night.

Almost at the end of the other side, she spots a silhouette in her peripheral field of vision. Her head snaps immediately to the person standing on the railing with only one hand at the pillar looking down at the river underneath them. It only takes a few steps to reach the other side. With wide eyes she watches as the man loosens up his grip on the single last entity that gives him a stable stand.

Oh no… please don’t jump.

Coming even closer she starts to sense an all too familiar presence… he is a tall man with subtle but expensive looking black robes striking a stark difference with his light skin and platinum blond hair. But she also recognises the way he is standing there like he is invincible, an unstoppable force, dauntless of the height.

“Malfoy?”

Completely overstrained with the proximate danger she just stands there observing carefully every tiny motion of him. He lets his head fall into his neck like he has already discussed this matter with her and has enough of it now.

“Go away Granger.”

He perceived that it’s me… he recognised my voice…

“And what if I don’t want to leave you alone..?”

Her words sound timid almost scratchy like she hasn’t spoken in years.

Thinking about it...

The last time she has spoken directly to Malfoy was about three years ago. On the 23rd of July 1998.

Remembering it, this last interaction probably doesn’t even count as a real conversation.

Being occupied with her own thoughts, she didn’t even register what type of restrictions Malfoy had to obey for the next year of probation. After she heard that he was not sentenced to go to Askaban, she had stopped listening.

Post-trial she wanted to take one of the less prominent floo-exits to avoid any reporters or ministry workers, but then she spotted Malfoy standing by the same fireplace she always takes, adjusting his sleeves. When she was still a few metres apart from him, he looked up as if he could detect her presence - just like on the bridge.

Their gaze locked for a while until he smiled a little and said: “I don’t know why you felt the need to help me but I guess I have to express my gratitude to you now. So… thank you.” The typical sneer was abstinent replaced with a neutral if not slidely amused tone. Hermione remembers that she was confused at what he thought about this whole situation was funny. But it still sounded genuine.

He grabbed some of the floo-ash, threw it on the ground of the chimney while saying “Malfoy Manor”.

He took one step to the green fire but stilled bevor making another move. His head moved around to look at her again with an odd expression on his face. If she didn’t knew any better it would have seem like he looked defeated.

“I hope you can now invest your precious time in less lost causes.”

The blond gave her no chance to answer, looking immediately away, stepping into the flames and disappeared right with the smoke.

So much has happened since then. At least for Hermione. She tries to recollect any news about the only Malfoy heir in her memory but except for the predictable slander or the typical gossip once in a while, there weren’t really meaningful incidences mentioned by the Prophet or any other media. His connection to the high society must be still pretty good when he managed to avoid getting even the smallest bit of “information” about him leaked for the last few years. No dating gossip or pictures of him arguing with a significant other…

I wish I had this type of power to basically vanish from the public eye.

She found herself in the presence again, observing the wizard still standing on the metal railing. Her heart almost stops as he quickly turns around, almost losing his balance but instantly regaining it the moment his right hand touches the pillar next to him.

“Didn’t I tell you last time to go bother other people with your helper-syndrome?”

His delivery now sounds a lot more like the boy she knew from Hogwarts. Except that his voice is lower than back in school, in a smoothing way. His pupils are dilated, leaving barely any grey of his iris.

Is he high?

She takes another step forward ignoring his callback to the comment from when they last saw each other.

“Please, come down. You wouldn’t want to ruin your expensive outfit by falling into the Thames now, would you?”

She tries to sound casual but her body language is definitely betraying her. For a second Malfoy’s gaze flickers to her trembling hands before their eyes lock again. Hermione has a hard time reading his expression, maybe because he is utterly blasted - presumably with Euphoria or Ecstasis.

“What if I don’t care anymore.”

For the third time in the last few hours her heart skips a beat. She feels like all the air is sucked out of her lungs, leaving nothing left to form a coherent reply or to do anything really. The vision of Hermione gets blurry as she tries to regain the control over her body back.

The next thing she notices is a firm grip on her shoulders. In the distance she registers a voice talking to her. The grip intensives, striking a sharp pain through her upper body, snapping her back to reality.

“Ouch.”

“Sweet Salazar, do you always black out that easily?!”

Trying to find the source of the low voice, her heads tilts upwards, finding Malfoy’s eyes again as if they are magnetic.

“What happend..?”

The expression of her old childhood bully is undecipherable like she has never seen his features before. She just can’t figure out what he wants to tell her with his intense eyes. Frustrated with her disorientated state, he relocates his grip to her wrists pulling her to stand up - apparently she fell to the ground while blacking out… even though no part of her body hurts like it hit the hard asphalt.

Did Malfoy catch me before I became unconscious?

“You should go to St. Mungo’s. Just in case.”

Confused by his statement, she blinks at him trying to grasp the reason why this whole interaction feels so odd. He waits patiently for her reply, almost making it seem like he knows that she is struggling with something. And then the realisation hits her.

“Why are you worried about me? I thought you didn’t care anymore..?”

A silent chuckle escapes him. It would be charming if it didn’t confuse her even more.

“I guess I’m still in your debt. So, as much as I would have liked to end this unpleased reunion by falling into the unknown… my subconscious apparently couldn’t bear the thought of you hurting yourself over a dumb comment I made.”

“So you didn’t came here to jump?”

“No.” A little pause. For the first time since their conversation started, he looks away searching for something in the dark of the night. “I am not really the type for that.”

She can’t help but to feel like his answer isn’t one hundred percent honest. However she also doesn’t want to trigger another physical response of her body just to be noisy.

Getting back to his other comment she says: “I don’t need to go to St. Mungo’s. It was nothing really. I apparently tend to be dramatic after a stressful day. I just need to go home and fall into my bed.”

Finding her gaze again, jumping between her eyes as if he is trying to decipher a hidden message in her sentence, his hands slowly remove their grip of her wrists. Hermione can see his demeanor intensify in his body language by her answer.

Did I say something weird..?

Before she can say something else, Malfoy holds up his right arm like he wants her to lock into him.

“Okay. Tell me where you live and I’ll get you there.”

Hermione hesitates, starring at him. They let the time pass by for a minute or two before Malfoy starts speaking again.

“I swear on the grave of my father that I won’t use the knowledge of your address to come visit you unexpectedly.”

A bit taken aback by his unsuspected statement, she responses: “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence again. Now it’s her turn to switch between his eyes, studying his pupils. It takes a moment for the blond wizard to ascertain why she is worried.

“I’m fine. I’ve apparated successfully while being way more wasted than I’m right now.”

Not convinced with this declaration Hermione tilts her head a bit to the side. He exhales an impatient breath and adds: “I wouldn’t offer it, if I was not convinced to be capable to transport you safely.”

“Just because you believe your words doesn’t mean they are grounded in reality.”

“Really now?”

It’s like they are having a starring contest. After a few minutes she concludes that Malfoy isn’t going to back down of his previous statement. So the witch admits her loss by telling him her address and reaches out to his unmoved outstretched arm.

“If you splinter I won’t bother healing you.”

And then there is this little amused expression again. “Yeah, sure… and I’m best friends with Potter.”

The moment she touches him they are drawn back into a void twirling around, slightly crashing into each other, trying not to fall when they arrive at their destination. Malfoy is the first to get himself back together, looking around and starting to observe the street.

“Why were you by the Tower Bridge? That’s like a two hour walk from here. And there is no way you went there after work considering it was almost 3 am. Or did you get ever swottier after school and switched the library with your office in the ministry?”

Ah… that sounds more like the Malfoy I used to know.

“I needed to go for a walk. As I said, it was a stressful day.”

Using all of her willpower to look at the little house where she grew up in - trying to see if any of the lights are still on - her acquaintance musters her carefully. It’s like his dilated serious eyes are cutting right through her façade of casualness.

The witch feels bare in front of him. She can tell that his eyes are trying to find an answer to an unspoken question about her.

They stand there for a moment before Malfoy starts talking again. His voice is surprisingly tender even if the rest of his body language is still unreadable.

“Are you sure you want to go home..? If you-“

His glance wanders to the house behind him, then inspecting her long sleeves and notices her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The silver eyes gradually moving back up to her face, now with a more concerned expression.

“Well… if you would prefer to spend the night somewhere else, I could take you to one of your friend’s houses instead.”

The way he phrased his offer makes her wonder if he concluded that she had a fight with Ron. He chose his words carefully so that it doesn’t sound like an accusation but it is still clear enough so she would understand what he is really asking.

Oh god. What did I do? He probably got the wrong idea... I just don’t want to continue our argument from earlier.

“No it’s fine. I just don’t want to wake him up.”

“Hm.”

Nothing more to say, Hermione walks up to the front door. Her thoughts are racing, all going in circles, desperate to calm down. Her steps are slow and get even slower when the distance between herself and the big wooden door gets smaller. Without thinking this through, she turns around right at the doorsteps, feeling a strange sense of relief that Malfoy is still standing there watching.

“If you agree to come with me I would go to St. Mungo’s.”

Her poor heart is beating like crazy, shooting adrenaline into every last cell of her body. The space between them is too wide to read his reaction but the young woman detects a slight movement of the blond’s wizards head.

Why did I say that?! The whole reason I procrastinated to walk into my own bloody home was to stretch out a possible continuation of my quarrel with Ron about therapy… Why would - of all people - Malfoy agree to-

“Okay.”

…

“What?”

“I said ‘okay’.”

Silence.

“I think I wasn’t clear enough. I meant that I’m getting professional help at St. Mungo’s if you do the same.”

“I understood what you said.”

“You did..? And you still want to go?”

“Bloody Bennet, Granger. For once in your life, just turn your impressively large brain off and stop overthinking this. I will get something to sober up and you can do whatever you need to do. This ‘trip’ already turned into a rather exhausting obligation anyways, so it’s no big deal.”

No big deal, huh?

Intrigued by this unexpected turn of events, she goes back to the spot where Malfoy is standing. Hermione can’t help but to survey him more sharply, becoming aware of how much he has changed. He grew a bit making him around 1,80 metres tall now. His build is still fit and he definitely grew into his pointy features which are now incisively defined… but his skin is pale, almost colourless, except for the dark patches right under his eyes that tell stories of a lot of sleepless nights.

Did he always look this haunted?

A memory of an overburdened boy in sixth year appears in her mind and leaves an unsettling feeling in her body.

“You can’t just sober up. I want you to get an appointment with the same type of Healer I want to talk to.”

Before he can reject her preposition she adds: “If you actually go to that appointment is up to you… but I do believe it could help you to get some better sleep for example.”

“You are the one to talk.”

“That’s why I want to go as well if you already forgot.”

Silence. Again. This time it’s a bit more unpleasant but nothing compared to Ron’s usual reactions. Malfoy growls while letting his head fall back into his neck and stroking his wavy fringe with his right hand.

“You are fucking inconceivable, Granger…”

“So we have a deal?”

She can’t stop her smile, feeling a bit like she won at least one impossible battle today. The wizard rolls his eyes but doesn’t reject her conclusion. Instead he lifts up his right arm again to let her grab onto it.

Hermione can’t help but to feel as if all of this is happening in an alternative reality. Somewhere where Malfoy and her are just two normal people, meeting up again after living their life separately for no other reason than that they have different jobs on the opposite sides of London. No tragic backstories, no bullying or a bloody wizarding war… just two old classmates reconnecting.

Perhaps hell just froze over…

The brunette tries to bite down the small smile that starts to lift up her lips. For a second time today she grabs his outstretched arm and feels the dragging force of the apparition magic taking her away into the unknown.

Chapter Text

Sunday 02/09/2001 - 04:09 am - POV Draco

It’s interesting how you have to get used to apparate with a person you never did this with before. You have to get to know the other body and their magic to make it more effortlessly. The first time he took Granger with him, it felt foreign like she was an obstacle in his path. Even though he knew her since first grade, but that probably wouldn’t matter because they never did any kind of magic together. So he couldn’t have become acquainted enough with Granger before.

Now apparating with her was not only more straightforward but also kind of gracious. Thinking about it, he assesses that Granger’s magic is powerful but not in a consuming way… more like it makes his magic more potent as well. That was possibly the most gratifying transport he ever had while taking someone with him side-by-side. Not to mention it was only the second time they did this together and he is still high from the Ecstasis.

Does she have to be perfect in literally everything?

A known feeling of jealousy burns right up to his chest, cerebrating about her sheer amount of talent… and he gets annoyed looking at her questioning eyes, proofing that she doesn’t even realise how formidable her magic is. Presumably because for her it feels like that all the time.

“J'ai le mort.”

“Pardon..?”

Her voice sounds way more confident which relaxes Draco a bit. Interacting with her while she makes the impression of being on the edge of breaking down is way too arduous after the day he had.

Since when do I care about that?! My life was simpler when I could just ‘hate’ her…

“Never mind.”

They awkwardly walk together to the entrance of the hospital - the front window of Purge and Dowse Ltd. - and tell the gatekeeping dummy their names and why they want to enter. The glas disappears and Draco makes a gesture for the brown-haired witch to go first. Her lips twitch a little again as she accepts the offer and step through the window frame first.

The Welcome Witch - Cleo Burton as the name tag on her desk tells them - is occupied with folders that resemble typical patient files. Not looking up from what she is doing, she announces: “Excuse me, I’ll be ready for you in a minute.”

It seems like she is ordering the medical records in a specific sequence. After putting the last one away Miss Burton turns around and gives them a startled expression.

Golden Girl Hermione Granger accompanied by him - well known Ex-Death-Eater Draco Malfoy… that sure must come across as a weird experience.

Miss Burton’s face looks distantly familiar… she is probably in her mid-twenties, has long strawberry blonde hair that is completely tied up into a high ponytail, green eyes, faint skin with a magenta undertone to it, little freckles around her nose and heart-shaped rosé lips.

Luckily she gets her composer back rather quickly and smiles at them.

“Hello, my name is Cleo Burton and I’m your Welcome Witch today. How can I help you?”

Draco doesn’t mind that she mostly spoke to Granger. Of the two of them it makes sense that you would rather talk to the war heroine than the criminal.

“Hi, I’m Hermione Granger and I’m here with Draco Malfoy. We actually would like to talk to Head Mindhealer Reed Marsh if they are available right now.”

After hearing the name, Draco flinches but thankfully the women don’t notice.

Oh well… I kinda deserve meeting her like that again.

Miss Burton turns her head to a big layout of the hospital with a lot of different coloured dots on it, obviously searching for something. Her eyes light up as she spots a lilac dot with the letters RM on it.

“You are lucky. She just had an emergency meeting here and it appears like she went to her office after that. I will send her a note. Please take a seat and wait here for a moment.”

Granger responds with a quite “thank you” and sits down at one of the wooden chairs on the right so that she can look up the stairs. Without thinking the blonde wizard takes the seat right beside her. His head turns a bit, looking at his seatmate.

“A Mindhealer, huh?”

Her long dark curls bounce in the motion of rapidly turning her head to look at his face. Nervous brown eyes fixate on him. The immediate intensity is more than unsettling.

Why is she so afraid all of the sudden?

Not getting a chance to ask what is wrong or to make a silly joke to erase the tension, a familiar voice interrupts Draco’s thoughts.

“Good morning Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy. I’m Head Mindhealer Reed Marsh. Would you follow me into my office so that we can talk?”

No one is moving, the room just falls silent. While the Slytherin knows the reason for Healer March and him being awfully cautious about every of their moves, he is wondering why Miss Golden Girl over here froze like she was hit with a Petrificus Totalus.

Maybe she is scared to actually talk to a Mindhealer?

Putting his left hand gently on her shoulder makes her flinch a bit but also puts her out of her immovability. Now she stares at him again as if she needs something and thinks he would understand what it is just by her sight.

“We have a deal, remember? I am right here. You are not alone in this.”

Not sure what he is doing or why he chose these words, he tries to emphasise his statement with a soft smile. Granger mirrors his gesture which stills the time for a tiny entirety.

Oh Morgan, have mercy on me.

It may be the rest of the Ecstasis in his system but this genuine expression hits him unexpectedly hard like he just fell 100 metres off his broom. Her smile reveals a bronze glow on her cheeks which highlights her flawless brown skin that has; besides her blush; a warm reddish layer to it. A single tight corkscrew curl hangs right in front of her left russet brown eye and rounds up perfectly this staggering intimate moment. It takes up all of Draco’s self-control to not lift his hand from her shoulder to tuck the hair behind her ear.

How did I never notice that she is enthrallingly beautiful..?

“I’m afraid we can’t stay here to talk. But if you want something please don’t be scared to ask for help. I’m certain that St. Mungo’s Hospital is capable to assist in whatever you need.”

Remembering where there are and that someone is waiting on them, helps to break their weird private bubble. Both stand up and close the distance to the stone staircase where the Mindhealer still stands on the lowest step observing them.

“No, I’m sorry. I just needed a moment to recollect myself” answers Granger in a way too modulated voice.

That brings a sincere beam onto Healer Marsh’s face. “No need to apologise.”

The witch leading the way is at least 1,85 metres tall with short wavy golden-brown hair that is cut into a modern bob and a tawny skin tone. Her striking vale green eyes always leave Draco with the impression that there is not a single secret they couldn’t discover within mere seconds.

Ugh… I should have known that she would be here as the Head Mindhealer…

Reaching the 5th floor, Granger inspects the lilac door on the opposite side of the entrance for the visitor’s tearoom. Following her gaze Healer Marsh replies to her unspoken question.

“This station is fairly new. Before I was able to set it up, this part was mostly used for storage purposes. Thanks to a lot of resilient colleagues of mine, an easily persuaded hospital committee and more donated gallons than I would like to admit, we created the very first station for treatment of magical trauma.”

Draco feels the Healer’s glance on him by the last part of her explanation and he once again regrets coming here.

I need a drink. Or five.

He tries to calm him down by flexing his hands and putting them into his pockets of the black suit trousers he wears. Conjecture green eyes spot his tic with a dismaying expression.

You know what? Make it a bottle.

Luckily she refrains from commenting on it and just turns around to open the metallic door, walking down the wide hallway which is illuminated by yellow flowing glas lamps.

Arriving at Mindhealer Marsh’s office the blond wizard can’t help but to carefully inspect the highly organised space.

On the left side of the room is a big window where you can already see that the sun is about to rise. By the glass is an old fashion desk made out of dark wood - Draco’s guess - probably mahogany. A lone piece of paper with a quirl beside it is placed in front of a Chesterfield Captains desk chair. At the wall right to it are floating shelves loaded with all kinds of medical books.

On the right side is also a familiar set up: two dark green leather Chesterfield couches facing each other with a coffee table - made out of the same wood as the desk and office chair - between them.

It just looks like her old office.

“Please take a seat.”

Doing as they were told, Granger and Draco sit down on the same couch with a little too much space between them.

The brown-haired witch has her legs crossed by the knees and her hands entangled in her lap while the blond wizard beside her sits in a figure four lock with one elbow on his lifted knee so he is able to rest his chin on his left hand.

Gracefully sitting down in a perfect posture, Healer Marsh waves her wand. It’s made out of acacia wood and is 13½ inches long with rose petal ornaments on it. After her wordless spell the paper and quirl from the desk appears floating beside her, ready to take notes.

“I hope it’s okay when I record our conversations with a Q3. It helps to ensure that I keep track of every step in your therapy process. If you think it’s too distracting I can put a ‘Notice-Me-Not’ on it.”

Already knowing how all of this works, Draco just shrugs a bit to signal that he doesn’t care about the Quick-Quotes Quill. Biting her lip Granger only mutters “umm yes please”. Another motion of her wand and the paper with the quirl already writing something on it disappears.

Tranquility spreads between the three of them. Letting the moment stretch out for a bit the Mindhealer just watches her patients. Then she puts on a light smile and starts her session as she always does.

“So, what can I do for you today?”

Unsure if Draco wants to say something first the restless witch next to him tries to meet his eyes and quirks up her left eyebrow. Not bothering to explain this rather surreal situation the blond man only grins at her as if he was asking ‘Yeah Granger, what can she do for us today’.

With a little frown she breaks their eye contact.

“Umm… well… We came here- I mean… we would like to set up appointments to start therapy here, if that’s possible.”

“Sure. Is there a timeframe you would be the most comfortable with? I know it can be hard to find a date that is available for both parties sometimes.”

“Wait… for both of us?”

“Yeah. Starting a partner therapy would only work if-“

“Why would you think we want to start therapy together?”

“Well Miss Granger, normally when two people show up to meet me and ask for appointments for a consulting, they usually do that to work on their relationship.”

“I famously have a relationship with Ron Weasley..?”

“As a Mindhealer it is not my place to judge.”

Relocating his head, so that his mouth is fully covered by his hand, Draco can’t help but to chuckle about their conversation. Especially noticing Granger’s wide eyes filled with utter confusion.

I guess she needs a bit of help… but this is way too entertaining.

Now angry with him, the wizard can feel the upcoming fury radiating from the person next to him. That does not help with his chortle which is still muffled by his hand.

“Could you stop laughing like an idiot and say something?”

“Why? This was your idea” states his honeyed voice.

“Jeez, you are infuriating…”

“Likewise.”

Granger only responses with rolling her eyes, turning back to Healer Marsh who just observed their interaction with an intrigued expression.

“We came here together because we made a deal. But I would prefer to see a different Mindhealer than Malfoy. Maybe someone who is specialised in trauma responses like nightmares, panic attacks or blackouts…”

Her voice got quieter with every new word she said until the last few were barely decipherable anymore.

Considering her explanation the Healer takes a moment to think about what was said. Then she waves her wand again, summoning a little teal notebook where she is searching the pages for something. Stopping after the first third her manicured fingers trail down the paper, then stop to rest on the bottom of the page while she starts to smile.

In a gentle voice she conveys “Mindhealer Nora Johnson is new on my team and could be the perfect match for you, Miss Granger. As it happens, she came here with me earlier so you could speak to her immediately and start discussing all the details with her.”

Feeling relieved that this wouldn’t end in a partner therapy the russet brown eyes of the witch light up.

“That sounds perfect.”

“Great, I will send her a memo that you can trail right to her office. Just knock on the door where the paper plane flies through the mail slot.”

With one motion Healer Marsh stands up, swings her wand effortlessly, drafting the memo and starts crossing the room to open the door. Draco stays unmoved while his grey eyes follow Granger’s motions to the exit of the office.

Before she leaves, her upper body turns to look at him, giving him a warning face.

“Don’t forget our deal.”

“I’m still here, ain’t I?”

Studying him with a questioning look she nods and steps away.

Hearing the door close shut, his eyes wander to his former Mindhealer waiting for her to say what she probably wanted to say since she first saw him today.

“Long time no see.”

The tall witch goes back to the couch sitting down again.

“Being completely honest, Mr. Malfoy, I never would have guessed that you would show up again, let alone on your own volition. Can I ask what entity I have to thank for this miracle?”

“She just walked out of the room.”

Waiting for a more in-depth explanation she merely stares back at him.

“As Granger explained - we made a deal. I don’t know why she didn’t want to come here alone but it made her trick me into promising that I would go with her.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

“I want to know what exactly in that statement is interesting to you.”

It kinda feels like no time has passed. They both talk the same way they did when they last saw each other over two years ago. He definitely missed the lively discussions with Healer Marsh but her working as a medical expert gave her the tiresome habit of trying to fix him. Noticing her reaction, he can’t help but to feel like she just thought about the same thing with the difference that she was presumably annoyed by the fact he fought against her attempts to help.

“I’m wondering why you made this type of deal. There is the possibility that you agreed to this to get something out of it for yourself… but I can’t help to wonder if the obligation to repay Miss Granger’s generosity to you is that much stronger than your usual self loathing.”

Ah. There it is.

“I already discussed my conflicting feelings for Granger with you. So, that I’m not reliable when it comes to her shouldn’t surprise you.”

“Questioning everything saves me from making wrong assumptions.”

“That didn’t really work earlier, did it?”

He knows that she recognises what he is talking about.

“Did that bother you? That I thought you came here as a couple?”

“Considering the fact I was laughing - no.”

“Laughing can be caused by distress.”

“I was amused by Granger’s distress. I couldn’t care less what you think about my love life.”

She quirks an eyebrow obviously not convinced about his declaration.

Ignoring her, he adds: “Why did you think that anyway? Knowing you, I can’t believe it was because of Granger’s clumsy way of speaking.”

“Take a guess.”

“Is it because of the things I told you over three years ago..? That would be highly illogical if not straight up crazy. I know you are smarter than that.”

“It was a combination of things. But you are right - the most decisive reasoning was something else.”

“Humor me.”

Putting a smile on her face, she reveals: “It was the interaction you two had after I first called for you.”

A vexatious pause.

Before he can respond to the revelation that Healer Marsh also sensed that surprisingly intimate moment, she reaches back with a question.

“Were you aware that I waited for a good minute before I spoke up again? Or were you too distracted with your own thoughts staring into Ms. Granger’s eyes?”

A mind dazzling combination of questions, feelings and theories race through his head, causing his desire for a drink to turn into a need for shot of a calming draught.

“I was taken aback by Granger’s reaction.”

“Now that is interesting. Could you explain that a bit more, please.”

“This whole ordeal with her doesn’t make any sense. It’s just like the trial all over again. We hated each other in school, stood on the opposite sides of the war and then she decides out of nowhere to not only forgive me - for no good reason by the way - but also to start acting like we are old friends.”

“But aren’t you an equally important part of these interactions with her?”

“That’s even more concerning. I apparently lost my mind because I can’t seem to resist to give into that illusion of us not hating each other.”

“Do you hate her?”

“I already told you, I probably never really did…”

“Well, is it really an illusion then, when you both feel the same?”

“I’m not bold enough to assume what is going on in Granger’s brain.”

“A good attitude on your part. Then maybe it would help to ask her what she is thinking.”

She can’t be serious?!

Without knowing why, Draco feels anger rushing through his body because of that suggestion. He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to hold back his unyielded thoughts.

“What a fun topic to talk about to someone who is obviously already struggling with a lot of other obligations in her life.”

Ignoring his vile tone Healer Marsh counters: “What if she is also confused about this and would like to know what is going on in your head?”

“Then she would have to be the one to ask. I will not make her life any more miserable than I already did.”

“Does she know about that?”

I take everything back… I certainly did not miss these types of discussions.

“Granger is a grown woman. I sure hope she can make that decision on her own without me having to spell it out for her.”

He hates his sneering voice but sometimes he just can’t help it… especially when he is agitated. Catching on that he is on the edge Healer Marsh changes the topic after a short break to let him regulate himself.

I should have brought my flask of firewhiskey.

“Is there a reason why you two met up?”

“Just a weird coincidence.”

“What do you mean by ‘weird coincidence’.”

“People usually use that phrase to describe a circumstance that is rather unlikely to happen but still does.”

Even though he never got to bait her into rolling her eyes or giving him an unprofessional response when he tries to be annoying, he can’t help but to try. Disappointed but not surprised Healer Marsh just calmly asks her question again.

“Okay, let me rephrase that: What was that rather unlikely thing that happened to you? I want to know why you two showed up here at 4:30 am on a random Sunday.”

Draco takes a minute to think about his answer. Deciding that she would immediately see through a lie, he settles for the truth.

“I went to a party to distract myself that it’s already the first of September again. Around 3 am I wanted to get some fresh air so I left and ended up alone on the Tower Bridge. That’s where Granger found me. She looked outright awful like she ran for her life… Well and then she blacked out for a minute or two over an insensitive joke I made, so I felt bound to get her help.”

“What was the joke about?”

Bloody hell. It’s extremely inconvenient that she is this good at her job…

“Jumping off the railing.”

The only reason he was admitting this to Healer Marsh is that she usually doesn’t exaggerate the things Draco decides to tell her.

“You joked about getting up the railing to jump down?”

“No I already stood there when we met.”

“Why?”

Good question… what was I thinking? Why did I even got up there..?

“Probably a side effect of the Ecstasis. I remember thinking about adjusting the recipe so that that wouldn’t happen again.”

What would I give for a dose right now..? This hopefully won’t take much longer so I can go home and get something to calm my nerves.

Letting that settle for a while they just study each other. Draco feels a headache slowly starting… Knowing what she will say next, he rolls his eyes and cuts her off before she can phrase her question.

“I feel like I have to apologise to you.”

“What for?”

“My behaviour three years ago. I know you and your team just tried to do your job and reflecting on what I did back then, I’m surprised you told the Wizengamot I met all the given requirements that were set with my sentence.”

A pause stretches as Healer Marsh slightly smiles at him.

“Do you want to talk about that?”

“Kinda. I have to admit, I thought you would report me after you had to personally take over my therapy because I slept with the first two Mindhealers that were assigned to me.”

“Right… I remember being really furious when that happened.”

“Yeah, not my best moment.”

“Oh, I wasn’t mad at you. Self-destructive behaviour and sex are common coping mechanisms, especially for young men. No, the reason I was livid is that not one but two of my colleges - who I trusted - overstepped a sensitive line. They should’ve known better and not giving into the temptation. And I am still sorry that this happened to you.”

Draco quirks an eyebrow over her anger with her former team but can’t help to grin the very next second.

“No need. I used that to avoid doing therapy… and I feel responsible for Healer Austin’s divorce.”

“You give yourself too much credit for that. Raphael’s marriage was destined to fail when he couldn’t hide the fact that he is gay from himself anymore.”

“I guess that’s why I was surprised to find out he was actually married.”

“If you knew that Joanne or him were in a committing relationship would that have changed your behaviour? Like doing something else to avoid therapy?”

“I guess… I mean, I never tried that tactic with you. I usually don’t want to be a part of any kind of cheating.”

“And here I thought the reason why you didn’t try that with me is because you trusted and respected me as your Mindhealer.”

They start laughing which feels like the perfect dispersal of Draco’s negativ emotions from before.

Her gaze wanders off around her office until it lands back at him. Her expression changes into gratitude which confuses the blond wizard till she starts talking again.

“I also feel like I have to use this opportunity to say something that’s been on my mind for a while. I never thanked you for the ridiculously high donation you made a few months after your probation was over.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Mister Malfoy, we both know that there are only a handful of families in Britain that would be able to easily donate that amount of money and only one of those families knew I was planing this station here.”

Oh well… She got me there.

“I should have known that all the effort to make an anonymous donation - just for you to immediately figure out it was me - was not worth it.”

“Why did you still do it that way then?”

“Doing something good is only genuine when you do it not expecting any benefit from it. I know that other type of ‘generosity’ from my parents and I didn’t want you to think you owe me something.”

“Lucky for you that the donation was address to the hospital. So I wholeheartily do not believe that I owe you anything.”

He smiles at her, replying: “Good to know that you are still uncompromising about your work.”

Chapter Text

Sunday 02/09/2001 - 05:21 am - POV Draco

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Do you need my permission to do that? I thought your job as a Mindhealer requires you to be annoying.”

“You know this is my way of asking you if you are comfortable with a more serious topic.”

“And you should know that you can ask whatever you want. Didn’t you always tell me that I get to decide if I want to response after I heard your question and thought about it?”

He tries to sound unaffected by her request but he doesn’t like her critical expression. Thinking about it, he knew that she wouldn’t let go of what he said earlier just because he redirected the conversation.

Draco’s left hand starts flexing but stops mid-motion when she surveys his movement. Figuring that it’s too late to hide it now, he shakes both of his hands a bit and readjusts them onto his thighs.

“I tried to evade that topic.”

“I know.”

“Of course you do.”

“Have you ever thought about what I suggested to you in our last session?”

Irritated by the switch up, Draco takes a moment to form a coherent reaction.

“Why are you bringing that up now? No more wondering about my party habits?”

“We will get there.”

“Ah… I see. Well, to be honest I did not. My opinion hasn’t changed since then.”

“Do you have any other ideas what you want to do with your life then?”

“Managing everything that comes with being the head of the Malfoy name is already exhausting enough. So, no thank you.”

“I would give you my condolence about your father’s death but I don’t think you were grieving him that much.”

Should I feel bad about that?

Not only is it true that he was unmoved by the news but other people knew him well enough to come to the same conclusion as Healer Marsh. That is also the reason why no one close to him had expressed their sympathy to him for his father’s passing.

“Do you think I should have?”

“No. Nobody - not even one’s parent - is obligated to our emotions. But you are redirecting again. I want to know why you don’t think you could be a Healer. Or pick up any other profession really. You had 10 Outstandings in your NEWTs, you have remarkable connections that could get you anywhere and even if you think otherwise, you are pleasant to be around with if the other person is unbiased. Your presence is quite remarkable. You radiate a prepossessing aura around you.”

“Grades are no indication if a person is intelligent, my connections are only useful when I throw my family’s money around - which I’m opposed to do for the wrong reasons - and even if I would believe what you said about my presence, there would still be the problem that almost everyone is biased when they meet me. Understandably so.”

Not immediately addressing his monologue the witch in front of him takes a moment to think about a different approach.

“You are right, grades can be misleading but knowing you for some time now, I can confidently say that you are in fact quite intelligent. The Healer training would be a walk of cake for you. And considering what you did for this station or Miss Granger today, I think deep down you want to do something useful with your time.”

“You are overestimating my endurance.”

“Yeah, that is something that worries me.”

“I thought I would be the perfect candidate for this career?”

“You are. If you would change your mind about being unworthy for any kind of redemption and stop blasting yourself into the bliss of indifference with alcohol or your home-brewed potions.”

“‘Blasting myself into the bliss of indifference’? What a poetic way to say that I’m an addict.”

Healer Marsh leans forward at Draco’s responds.

“Are you actually admitting that you have a problem?”

“No. I was just rephrases something you said.”

“So you don’t think your incapability of staying abstinent for more than a few hours is concerning?”

“I feel fine. I don’t think I have a problem.”

“The question is are you feeling that way because you are high or because you don’t want to find out how you would really feel because it’s been way too long since you were truly sober?”

“Don’t you think I would appear more fucked up if I had a problem? You know, not being able to control it..?”

“Everyone is different. As I already stated, you are smart and an exceptionally talented potioneer. So I’m not surprised that you are able to control yourself enough to still properly function. But with what I heard today, it sounds like you are starting to lose that control.”

“What makes you think that? Just because I decided to help Granger-“

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I am talking about the fact that you went intoxicated for a walk - alone - in the middle of the night - and ended up standing on the railing of a bridge - probably fighting off the intrusive thought of jumping down.”

Hitting a bit to close home Draco says snappily: “I thought you rather ask questions than make assumptions”.

“Then tell me what I said is wrong.”

Draco knows he reached a dead end. There was no way he could make her believe that anything she concluded was incorrect. But he still wanted to gain some power back by clarifying what happened on that bridge.

“It wasn’t even a full nanosecond that I thought about that and I wanted to go down before Granger showed up. I only provoked her because I was lost at what to say to her so I ended up falling into old habits.”

“I’m still concerned about that whole incidence.”

“How can I prove to you that I’m fine so that you can stop being concerned and just let me handle this my way?”

“Is that a sincere offer?”

“If you have an idea that is fair for both of us, yes.”

The green eyed witch thinks for a bit while Draco tucks his right foot under his left knee on the couch, hoping it would ease up some of his tension. His headache intensified over the last few minutes but he is determent to hide from Healer Marsh that his body is screaming for a shot.

I mean: Who wouldn’t need something to relax after a day like this?

“I want you to stay here on this station for at least 72 hours, under strict surveillance of course. If you are really fine and don’t have a problem then that shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Why 72 hours?”

“That’s a typical timeframe in addiction treatment. The peak of withdrawal often occurs around 48–72 hours after you last consumed something. This is the hardest part of withdrawal. At this point, all symptoms that are going to happen will be present and will be at their worst. And the most dangerous symptoms that can develop will do so as symptoms peak. It would be irresponsible to let you leave before that.”

“If I have an addiction problem.”

“Yeah, all of this only applies if I’m right.”

“So it’s basically a bet?”

She smiles a bit tentative as she returns: “Sure, if you want it to be.”

I like winning bets. And that would be only three days… how hard can that be? Also: if it helps getting everyone off my back about this topic it would be a waste of an opportunity to not do it.

On the other hand that are three days where I can’t work in my lap or attend my new responsibilities as a Malfoy representative.

Oh what a shame, tomorrow is the already the 3rd…

“I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“I have to go to France this Monday. There are a lot of properties and businesses that are now in my charge. I can’t postpone that any longer now that September started. I also have to think about my seats at the Wizengamot and the Hogwarts Board of Governors.”

And I don’t want to do any of that without being able to drink. No one in their right mind would.

“Do you know how much time you will need in France?”

That is a good question. He has distant relatives in France who are regulating most of the business there. Draco doesn’t want to change that and he knows that his father trusted them. The only thing he is ever willing to admit is that Lucius knew how to run his métiers. Sadly he would still have to go. At least to introduce himself officially and get to know more about this part of his inheritance in person.

“My guess would be 9-12 days.”

“How about we set your stay here for the Sunday in two weeks. That would be Sunday, 16th of September, to Thursday, the 18th of September. That way you wouldn’t need to stress yourself with your obligations and you have enough time to tell the Wizengamot and the Hogwarts Board of Governors that you are not available for these three days.”

Another impasse…

Screw that woman and her stubbornness.

With crunching teeth Draco discloses: “Then I will promise to be back on the 16th of September.”

“Would you mind signing a paper for that?”

“If that makes you happy.”

“This is not for me. It helps to ensure that you take that promise more seriously.”

Thinking about the implication of signing a paper, clearly some kind of contract, Draco untucks his leg from under his knee. To signal he wants to do it, he moves to sit a bit closer to the table in front of him, placing his upper right arm on it.

With another swift of the Healer’s wand, a document and a smaragd-green quill appears next to his hand. He smiles a bit by looking at the colour of choice for the writing tool.

She was definitely a Slytherin.

Already wanting to sign the paper, the witch interrupts Draco’s motion by recommending: “You should read it first.”

“Is that a trick?”

“No. But I’m surprised that you wouldn’t even look at the contractual agreements.”

“I trust you.”

His eyes find hers. There are an unusual lot of emotions in her expression. Surprise, humility and also something that awfully looks like apprehension.

“Should I not?”

“I’m honoured that you do. But you should know what this kind of stay here contains.”

Now a bit more doubtful about the conditions of their bet, he picks up the paper and starts reading.

The points written there are not completely preposterous like Mindhealer Marsh’s reaction made him believe it would be. It mainly states that he agrees to stay for the whole period of 72 hours even if he wants to leave prematurely. There are a few points about what he cannot bring into the hospital - like alcohol, own potions, weapons besides his wand, etc.

One subject bothers him outlandishly.

“You’ll take my wand?”

“Just for the constituted time frame. That’s to insure that the patient isn’t causing any harm to themself or the staff while being in an unstable state caused by the withdrawal. You will get it back no matter how this turns out and no one else will use it in the mean time.”

Her green eyes are empathetically watching him digesting this information. Knowing what is going on in his head she continues: “That’s one of the reasons why I wanted you to read it beforehand… I know this is a precarious topic for more than one reason.”

Tsk… That’s a fucking understatement.

The young wizard thinks about the first time his wand was taken from him by Potter. It was only for a few weeks but after he got it back, it felt off as if his wand didn’t want to listen to him anymore. And then the second time was by the Ministry that confiscated it for the duration of his trail… two and half months… and after all that, he had to fully regain the obedience of his own wand back.

He couldn’t even use a first grade charm like Lumos with it, which was more than humiliating. Most of his time in therapy was dedicated to get back to his old magical skill level. Well, after he actually trusted Healer Marsh enough to reveal his incapability of using his own bloody wand.

That was also one reason why he started obsessing over brewing potions on a new degree because that was essentially the only magical thing he could do without his wand. And trying the potions afterwards was a convenient opportunity to numb his self hatred.

Still, that was the second worst time of his life right behind enduring unspeakable torture by the Dark Lord and being coerced to fight in a war for that bastard.

Was that the reason for her incertitude?

He sighs and forms a small smile while his eyes look up from the parchment to his company. Judging from the witch’s expression, she doesn’t know how to interpret his reaction to this rather sensible matter.

Wanting to explain his thoughts he says: “I’m just glad that you are still watching out for me.”

“That’s my job.”

“Sure… but you are incredibly good at that. That’s what I meant when I said ‘I trust you’.”

Besides the other emotions, there is now a bit of fulfilment in Healer Marsh’s eyes. She nods in appreciation of his words. A thought pops into his mind and before he can stop himself, he asks unassertively: “I guess you wont be there for the whole three days, right?”

“No, but I’m essentially always on standby duty. If you really need me, I’ll be here in no time. More over, the Healers I trained for this station are highly qualified to help you if you need it. Just please try not to seduce anyone while you’re locked up here. I know you could and I would hate to start building up a new team again.”

“Funny.” He tries to sound sarcastic but can’t help to grin for a second.

Letting his thoughts wander over the revelation that Healer Marsh won’t be there for the whole time made him kind of uncomfortable.

Noticing his change of emotions the witch opposite questions: “What bothers you about me not being here? Try to articulate your malaise so I have a chance to help you.”

“I guess I don’t like the thought that my wand is stored here with someone I don’t trust while you are gone.”

“Would you prefer it if you hand it over to me personally, so it’s my responsibility alone instead of locking it up in a safe here..?”

“Most definitely.”

“Then you will give it to me. I will promise to be more than careful with it.”

“Thank you.”

Relieved that this is settled, Draco turns back to the paper in front of him, skim over the text again, takes the quill off the table and signs at the bottom line in a swift motion.

“How do you feel now?”

Recognising the phrase the blond wizard sits back in the couch, placing his right elbow on the armrest to put his chin on his hand.

“Nostalgic.”

“I mean-“

“I know what you mean. I feel like that this was an interesting start for a reunion.”

“Would you like to continue this? Even if you win our ‘bet’?”

Confound about that question he insists: “I made a promise.”

Silence stretches out for a few moments. Mindhealer Marsh seems to be in thoughts about his statement. Her green eyes fixate his, piercing through his head, trying to find an answer to a question she has but doesn’t want to reveal just yet.

You will have to ask directly if you want to know.

As if she read his mind, she chuckles, breaking the intense gaze. He knows that she didn’t use Legilimens which makes her ability to decipher correctly his thoughts even more impressive.

Next time I need to ask her how she does that.

“Until next time then? After your stay here I can give you a schedule for the next appointments.”

“That sounds perfect.”

She smiles and hums like something about this dovetails to a conjecture of hers.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I heard that phrasing before.”

Puzzled about this strange bulletin, Draco just stares at Healer Marsh who already stood up and walked over to the door to send him off. Dismissing his attempts to deduce the last part of their conversation, he finally stands up and strides to the exit.

——————————————————————————————

Sunday 02/09/2001 - 05:49 am - POV Hermione

Almost too caught up in the book that Healer Johnson gave Hermione after their first session, she almost misses the sound of the door opening. But Malfoy’s voice brings her back to reality.

“You are still here?”

The brown-haired witch looks up, seeing her old schoolmate with a confused expression and Healer Marsh behind him smiling in amusement.

“Well… we came here together so I didn’t wanna leave you alone.”

“How long have you been waiting?”

She lifts up her left arm, checking her watch, declaring: “Around 25 minutes..?”

His long legs march over to her. There was no chair to sit down so she just leaned against the wall to be able to wait right in front of the office. Hermione didn’t mind standing, especially when she was distracted with reading… but now with Malfoy stopping lesser than an arm stretch from her, her legs started to complain, probably feeling tired.

“You waited here, alone, standing, for over 25 minutes for me to finish my session?”

His eyes were intense, still dilated but not as much as they were when she first saw him on that bridge. His pupils jump between her own, desperately searching for something… maybe an explanation?

“I guess I wanted to make sure you do not weasel your way out of our deal.”

He flinches by her choice of words and she already forms an apology in her head when Mindhealer Marsh’s voice reminds them that they are not alone… again.

“Mister Malfoy was determinate to keep his promise to you, Miss Granger.”

As if he was caught, the blond wizard takes a step back, turning a bit to look at his therapist. They exchange a rather confusing gaze.

What does that mean? Why does it feel like these two know each other..?

Disoriented by this, Hermione ask hoarsely: “So… can we go then?”

“Sure. Should I take you somewhere?”

“Just home.”

His expression is troubled again but he doesn’t seem to want to express his concern in front of Healer Marsh which she is thankful for. So he just makes a gesture to signal with his arm that she can go first.

Is that something he learned as some kind of pureblood etiquette?

After awkwardly waving goodbye to the Healer who still stands in her doorframe watching them, Hermione stores the borrowed book under her arm and walks over to the lilac metallic door.

Malfoy takes just a few strides to catch up and matches his pacing to stay beside her with his hands in his pockets. Hermione glances sideways, noticing his sophisticated way of walking, making her aware of her leisurely steps. She can’t help but to suppress a smile that tries to capture her lips.

He really has a natural talent for making you feel like a peasant.

Outside the hospital her company stretches out his arm in a familiar pose for her to reach out. The Apparation feels just as smooth as it did on their way to St. Mungo’s.

Maybe I should ask him what his secret is.

It’s often abnormally demanding to take Ron or Harry with her. Trying to think of a reason why this feels so unique, she spots a major difference.

Maybe it’s just less exhausting for the person who is taken along?

She will have to test that theory next time she wants to Apparate side-by-side with one of her friends.

“Thank you for bringing me home… and for the rest. That was certainly an exciting way to spend a Sunday morning.”

She timidly smiles at him. Draco rubs the back of his neck with his hand and bites his lower lip.

“No need to thank me. Really.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Of course you do.”

The witch notices his eye roll but is not quite sure how to react. Malfoy is so hard to read, it’s truly bothersome to her. Making an effort to end their meeting on a higher note she asks: “When is your next appointment? Maybe we’ll see each other more often now.”

“Oh… well I have to travel to France tomorrow. But after that I will see Mindhealer Marsh again.”

“Where are you going?”

“Hm?”

“I mean in France? Which region? My mother’s family is French.”

His face seems surprised. In a velvety voice he responds: “Bretagne, Ile-de-France, Grand Est et Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes.”

“Do you know Megève?”

“Why?”

Now she is rolling her eyes as if the reason for her curiosity is completely obvious, answering: “That’s where my family lives. My parents and I used to visit them every big vacation until I went to Hogwarts.”

Lost with that information Malfoy just watches her. She can see that he is trying to form an adequate reply. Deciding to give him time, Hermione patiently waits with curious eyes on his apprehensive face.

“I could write you when I’m in Megève, maybe sending a small gift from there if you want.”

“Really? I would love that.”

They lock eyes for a moment, getting lost in their synergy.

I should go. He probably wanted to leave a while ago.

“Au revoir then. I’ll be waiting for your owl.”

“Je suppose que à plus tard.”

Content about the promise of writing her, Hermione wanders back to her front door, not one bit worried about Ron being awake again, leaving Malfoy more than confused with his own thoughts.