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Consequences and Complexities	By : ckllsdam Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 16322 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and canon situations belong to the Harry Potter fandom and JKRowling. Plot and OCs are mine. I make no money from this work.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Chapter 18 – Respite

Draco Malfoy reached two conclusions as he stepped into his tepid shower: first, much like the dead of winter, late summer in New England was not for the faint of heart or constitution, and second, learning was a balm for his oft-weary soul. It was hot and humid, and he’d been dripping with sweat by the time he made it home from work. He took comfort in the degree of satisfaction he felt in a job well done. When he’d first taken on his new job in the kitchen, the work had been difficult and sometimes confusing. Even his substantial skill in managing potion ingredients and understanding how to halve or double those concoctions had only been of limited help when applied to the world of food.

What had been helpful in his dramatic learning curve was the diligence he’d once applied to his studies at Hogwarts. Prior to the horrors that had begun in his fifth year, Draco had been an outstanding student, earning top marks in nearly every subject and easily ranking in the top five among his year-mates. The sharp mind and disciplined habits that had once been his key to academic success were now being called upon to help him build a new life for himself. In that, he found comfort and familiarity amidst all the new details and techniques.

As he rinsed the soap and shampoo from his body, stretching tired shoulder and neck muscles in the process, he thought about the conversations he’d had with his immediate boss, Head Chef Marcel Janeford, a few weeks earlier and with the restaurant’s owner, Bob Goutro, just a day or two earlier than that. The “confessions” had been easier than he’d feared they’d be, but he also recognized that he still kept several secrets. Dr. Kate’s advice about his right to his own privacy had made his little white lies just a tiny bit easier to live with.

Both men had been accepting and unsurprised when he’d finally confessed his wizarding heritage, and had not questioned his explanation of a fiancée back home when he’d told them of his old family, pureblood background. Draco had sensed slightly greater skepticism when he’d said that the reason for his long stay in America was to build his independence and self-sufficiency. He had known that this was the weak spot in his narrative, but neither man had pressed him for more information. He felt reasonably secure that they wouldn’t seek out additional background, and was grateful that his explanations had been enough to forestall Bob’s constant match-making activity.

His simple - in hindsight - concession to their interest in his private life had eased the pressure tremendously, and Draco had been better able to focus the considerable attention that was needed as he learned. It seemed that the act of trusting them had had the unexpected benefit of easing any concerns his bosses may have had about the quiet, sometimes maudlin young man.

This led to more trust being given to him, and Draco felt some of the pressures around his new role ease marginally. Chef Marcel was no less demanding, and the workload had, if anything, increased, but the wariness and hesitancy was quickly lifting. The most obvious evidence was the Head Chef’s now-constant teasing – good-natured though it was – about Draco’s tendency to require perfection of himself to an even greater degree than his supervisor expected.

For the moment, though, Draco’s biggest concern was getting to his appointment with Dr. David on time. An unusual late afternoon rush had put him behind schedule by at least an hour, and he’d barely had enough time to wash away the day’s grime. Dinner would need to wait until after his appointment. He quickly dried off, finger-combed his hair, and dressed in dark blue denims and a white tee shirt. Five minutes later, he exited the Floo in the Healer’s waiting room and checked in with Hillary, the receptionist. Two minutes later, David Roy invited him to enter his office.

“Good evening, Draco,” he greeted. “How’re things?”

Draco smiled pleasantly and returned the Healer’s salutation. “I’m well, Doc. And you?”

“Terrific, thanks. Have a seat.” David selected the chair opposite Draco’s and flipped open the thick folder that rested on the glass table between them. “I thought we’d spend some time this week exploring some of your self-perception beliefs. First, I’d like you to select three words that you think describe you, as a person, accurately.”

Draco hesitated and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know quite what to say to that, Doc. That’s a pretty broad question.”

“I know. And I don’t want you to over-think it. Just tell me the first three words that come to mind as you think of your sense of who you are.”

“Okay. Uh, I guess I’d say… diligent, um, focused, and… damaged.”

The Healer wrote the three words in his folder and looked up at his patient. “We’ll come back to that in a minute. Now, I want you to tell me three words that you think someone else would use to describe you.”

“What kind of someone?” Draco pressed for clarification.

“Doesn’t matter. Friend, family member, colleague…” David allowed his voice to trail off, indicating the openness of his query.

Draco blew out a breath. “Wow. I don’t know. I guess I’d have to say private, quiet, and maybe… observant.”

David scribbled once more in his notes and peered back at his patient. “What parallels or differences do you see between the three words you chose for yourself and the three you chose to describe how others see you?”

The young wizard scraped a hand through his hair and slumped in the chair, adopting a posture that he knew his mother would abhor for its undignified sprawl. “I’ve no idea.”

“Sure, you do,” the therapist challenged.

Now his hands scrubbed across his cheeks, rasping slightly against the faint blond stubble that had grown since early morning. “Solitude,” he answered quietly.

“And what does solitude do for you?” Dr. Roy persisted.

“Safety.”

“Say more about that,” he encouraged.

“I don’t worry about hurting anyone or being hurt by anyone when I’m alone.”

“Who would you hurt?”

“No one, at least not intentionally.”

“Then why are you worried about that?”

“The potential for it, because of my past.”

“What makes you think that behavior would happen again?”

Draco shrugged in response. “No special reason.”

“Then, again, why are you worried?”

“If it was so easy to manipulate me once, someone could do it again,” Draco reasoned.

“Who are you protecting?”

“Everyone. Myself.”

“Because…” David prompted.

“Because I don’t want to feel that way again.”

“Feel what way?”

“Used. Out of control. Guilty.” He gulped audibly. “Evil.”

“You said ‘again.’ That implies that you don’t feel that way right now. Is that true?”

“Well, yes. But I guess it’s still close enough that it’s very easy to connect to.”

“So you’re protecting yourself by staying isolated from others?” David summarized.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

David paused, and after a moment rose from his seat to retrieve something from his desk drawer, stowing the item in his pocket before returning to his chair beside Draco.

“What does it take to build trust?” he asked the young man.

“Time, faithfulness, maybe actions that earn someone’s belief in you.”

“So, if I were to say that I’m going to trust you, what would that mean to you?”

“It would mean that you expect that I wouldn’t fail you, in whatever way it was that you trusted me. That your expectation is that I would carry through on whatever I’d promised.”

“When have I shown you trust?”

Draco was dumbstruck for a moment. “Oh, geez,” he said, realizing the deep faith the doctor and his wife had shown in him for months, placing their children in his care.

“Okay, so you get that, right?” David’s eyes brightened when he saw Draco’s realization further acknowledged with a nod. “How about I show you another level of trust? Here, take this.”

He removed a slim black pen from his pocket and handed it to Draco. “This pen belonged to my late father. You may recognize it in that I use it rather frequently. It was one of his most precious possessions because it was a gift from his own father when he graduated from medical school. He passed it on to me when I finished my degree.”

Draco turned the item over in his hand and removed the cap of the fountain pen he’d certainly seen his therapist use time and time again. It had a fine gold-clad nib and was etched with the name “Montblanc.” He looked up at the elder man. “I don’t understand.”

“I want you to borrow it for a while.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to have another lesson in trust.”

Draco shook his head. “I couldn’t, and besides, how much greater trust can you show me than allowing me to care for the boys?”

“The lesson is not about my trust in you, although that’s certainly implied. It’s about your trust in you.”

“I…”

“Draco, trust yourself with this. And you must not just lock it in a drawer somewhere. I want you to carry it with you.”

The younger man hesitated another brief moment, tossing around in his head the idea of trusting himself layered over his own observations of the new levels of trust that had been developed so recently at his workplace. Finally, he reached out to accept the object from his therapist’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he offered quietly, still unsure about what this new lesson would mean to him.

David just waved a hand carelessly in response. They spoke for several more minutes about Draco’s recent interactions with colleagues, recurring dreams, and progress he’d made on several homework assignments that the doctor had recommended. Finally, sitting back in his chair, the doctor adopted a pleasant smile and changed the topic drastically. “So, I don’t know about you, but I’m positively famished. We’re just about done here; how would you like to join us at the house for some steaks on the grill?”

Draco smiled with embarrassment. “Was my stomach growling that loudly?”

“Uh, yeah,” David replied with a broad grin. “I take it you didn’t have time to have dinner before you arrived this evening.”

“No, I didn’t. Work ran a little late today, so I barely had time to shower and change.”

“Well, get your butt off the chair. I’m sure Kate already has potatoes baking and salad tossed.”

“But, she’s not expecting an extra…” Draco began.

“Don’t worry about it. She always cooks as though there are six of us for dinner. Has something to do with growing up in a big family, I think,” he explained, stowing his folder of notes in the top drawer of his desk and grabbing his jacket from a hook on the back of the door.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. Get a move on, kid.”

After dismissing Hillary for the evening and locking up the building, Healer Roy led Draco into the Floo for the quick trip back to the Roys’ home. The boys’ greeting for Draco was only marginally less enthusiastic than the one for their dad, and Kate smiled warmly at the young man when her husband informed her that there would be one more for dinner.

Daryl’s shout of “Hooray!” was followed by Thomas’ more reserved smiling nod. Draco responded by returning the “high five” offered by each of the boys.

“What can I do to help?” Draco asked Kate.

“Oh, nothing. I think everything’s pretty well under control. Maybe just add a place setting to the table on the patio,” she amended.

Draco’s easy familiarity with the Roys’ kitchen meant that he’d found the appropriate plates and dinnerware practically before she’d finished speaking. “I’ll just go put these outside, then. Anything else I can carry out?”

“Don’t think so. All the necessary condiments are in a cooler near the table, I’ve got the salad here, and David just brought the steaks out, so I think we’re all set.”

A few moments later, Draco saw what David had meant when he’d mentioned that Kate always had enough for guests. The salad was enormous, there were three extra baked potatoes on the grill, and two more sirloin steaks than there were people at the table. He wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Mommy, can you cut up some steak for me to take when I go to the playground tomorrow?” Daryl requested.

“Sure, honey. You mean like the sandwiches I’ve made before?” she asked.

“Yeah. If there’s enough, can you make two?”

“You’re planning on being hungry?” she wondered.

“No, Mommy. I want to share it with Jeremy,” the child replied.

The parents shared a look. “Who’s Jeremy, sweetie?” David prodded.

“He’s a friend of mine who comes to the park almost every day.”

“Does he forget to bring his lunch?” Draco asked.

“I don’t know. I just noticed that he doesn’t have food to eat when the rest of us are having lunch,” Daryl noted. “I think his family might be a little bit poor.”

“Why do you think that, Daryl?” Kate probed.

“Because sometimes his clothes don’t fit him very good, and his shoes are all messy.”

“Very well, Daryl,” his mother corrected absently, pausing a moment as she considered what else she needed to know. “Does Jeremy have any brothers or sisters?”

Daryl nodded. “He has a sister who’s just a little older, and a younger brother.”

“Do they come to the park with him?” she asked.

“Not always, but sometimes.”

“Do they bring lunches with them when they come?” Draco picked up the line of questions.

“Unh uh. They kind of walk away when the rest of us are eating.”

“How about if I come to the park on my lunch break tomorrow? I’ll bring a couple of extra sandwiches, so there’s enough for everybody,” Kate offered.

“That would be nice, Mommy,” Daryl replied appreciatively.

Draco had gone quiet, listening to the apparent plight of the three children who didn’t have enough to eat. While his own circumstances had markedly improved, he remembered his early days in Salem when his own meals had been meager and somewhat irregular. He felt heartbroken that such little children had to suffer that pain.

He finished his meal, helped clear the dishes, gave his grateful thanks for having been included in the family’s dinner, and after reading a brief story to the boys, left the Roys’ home, excusing his somewhat early departure with the five o’clock wake-up call that would precede his breakfast shift at the Grapevine.

When Draco arrived at the restaurant at half five the next morning to begin preparations for weekend brunch service, he was quiet, as was typical, but more distracted than usual, and after having asked for shredded Swiss cheese twice, Chef Marcel couldn’t help but wonder what was troubling his young protégé.

“You’re in a mood this morning, Draco,” he observed.

“Hmm?”

“What’s got your panties in a wad today?” the chef teased.

“Oh, sorry. I guess I am a little preoccupied this morning,” he confessed.

“So, spill it. If you don’t talk about it, you’ll be handing me tomatoes when I ask for peppers.” Marcel’s tone was a little gruff, but he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t care. He also knew that Draco would recognize that fact.

Draco sighed heavily, knowing that his boss wouldn’t give up until he had an answer. “I had dinner with some friends last night, and one of their kids mentioned something that really bothered me.”

“What was that?”

“He was talking about a local family that was apparently struggling to feed their children, and asked his mother to give their leftovers to him so that he could take them to the playground so his friends could have something to eat for lunch,” Draco explained, briefly recounting the exchange that had troubled him.

Chef Marcel watched the young man intently. “Well, there are lots of people who don’t have enough of one thing or another, Draco. But you’re perceptive enough to know that. Why does this bother you so much?”

He shrugged, but there was an answer under the surface. Draco had been thinking about this all night, and was torn between what he thought might be a helpful, productive idea, and what he feared would be a dismissive reaction.

“Spill, kid. We don’t have all morning. Customers will start showing up in an hour, you know.”

“I was thinking about how much food we waste and throw out here. And thinking that it might be able to feed some hungry children,” Draco added, trying to add a note of hopefulness to his voice.

“Hunh,” the chef replied, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair in frustration or embarrassment – he wasn’t sure which. “What do you propose we do about it?”

Draco paused, allowing the question and its obvious answer to percolate in his brain for a moment before he blurted it out. “What if we were to use some of the food that we’d throw out because it’s not usable for the next day’s restaurant meals to offer a free meal to kids in need?”

The chef stroked his chin thoughtfully for a few moments. “Well, I’m not opposed to the idea, but there’s a lot of homework to do before we could commit to something like that.”

“Such as?” Draco wondered.

“First, you’d have to get Bob’s approval before we could even look at anything else. Then, you’d have to check on regulations for providing public meals, particularly as they relate to anyone under age. And you’d have to think about venues, and donation practices, and I’m sure there’re two or three other things, not to mention who would be preparing and serving these meals and how we would find and include the people who need it most.”

“It’s not simple, I guess,” Draco observed.

“Nope. But if you’re willing to do the legwork on finding out what needs to be done – and getting Bob’s approval before you do anything else – well, you can count me in, kid.”

“Thanks, Chef. I’ll get to work on it later today.” Draco smiled broadly. He had a mission.

*******************************

It was the third Saturday of the month, which meant that Hermione would be hosting a small gathering in the yellow drawing room at Malfoy Manor for a half-dozen or so of her closest friends. Narcissa had adamantly and unceasingly insisted that she needed to do something for fun beyond playing with her undoubtedly darling daughter. “A young woman,” she’d said, “must have some frivolity and companionship in her life. Thus, your friends will receive an invitation to join you here at the manor once each month for dinner and drinks. Don’t argue with me, missy!”

Hermione laughed every time she recalled the conversation. Narcissa had sounded so much like her own mother when she’d set her mind to something. Most of the time, that was a comfort. Once in a while, it made her miss her mother that much more.

The group, nearly all former Gryffindors with the exceptions of Ravenclaw Luna Potter and Hufflepuff Hannah Longbottom (nee Abbott), arrived en masse at seven o’clock, all clearly in high spirits and looking forward to an evening of fun.

Hermione had instructed the house-elves on the fine Muggle cuisine of pizza, and had requested that Lucius add pale and dark ales to his regular order of libations. The aroma of baking dough, rich tomato sauce and fresh mozzarella was unmistakable to anyone who’d ever indulged in the treat. (The ten varieties of topping, though fairly traditional in their composition, were probably a bit of overkill for the relatively small group, she noted.)

Harry had figured out how to charm his portable CD player to broadcast sound over the wizarding wireless, so lively rock music was pulsing in the relatively cozy room.

Hermione, who’d brought Louisa down to say “goodnight” to everyone, was dancing with the tiny child in her arms, whose giggles were so loud and infectious that the music was nearly drowned out. In the span of about twelve minutes and three songs, the little one had been passed from person to person until she’d “danced” with just about everyone in the room. She ended up in the arms of her godfather, and Neville, humming the tune to Springsteen’s “Born to Run,” offered to bring the little girl up to her bed while Hermione was occupied with instructing the house-elves on how to properly cut the round pizzas into wedge-shaped slices. After a final round of goodnight kisses for the tot, Neville headed out of the drawing room and up the stairs toward Louisa’s nursery.

As he approached the double doors, another suite’s entryway was breached by a slim figure, who ducked away as the godfather and his charge disappeared into the girl’s room. Neville’s slightly off-key humming could still be heard as he tucked the child into her bed, covering her with a light sheet and ensuring that her favorite stuffed unicorn was in reach.

Narcissa’s shoulders were rigid and she breathed deeply in an effort to calm her roiling emotions.

“What’s wrong, Cissy?” Lucius inquired from his comfortable spot on the settee, a short glass of Firewhisky, neat, swirling in his fingertips.

“It should be Draco,” she whispered, though her tone was anything but soft. When she finally turned to face her husband, the tears gathering in her eyes were unmistakable.

Lucius sighed. “Stop torturing yourself, Cissy. There’s nothing we can do about it.” The edge in his own voice was also evident.

“But…”

He rose from his seat and was swiftly beside her, grasping her by the shoulders tightly. “The sad truth here is that Miss Granger holds all the cards. I let myself get manipulated into this agreement by a woman less than half my age, and a Gryffindor, yet. But if we show our displeasure with the situation, she’ll become even more entrenched in her position. Be angry with me if you like, because I wasn’t smart enough to out-maneuver her. Some Slytherin I am,” Lucius groused.

Narcissa’s posture deflated and she dipped her head submissively. “I know that you’re right. I’m just so… frustrated and irritated and… ticked off. If I weren’t so fond of her, I’d want to hex her six ways to Sunday.”

“I understand, chou, but the bottom line is that, regardless of how unpalatable it is, we did make the agreement. Unless and until we can sway her thinking, I fear we’ve no choice but to live with it, including having to watch another young man put our son’s daughter to bed.”

“She’s so stubborn!” Narcissa complained, and Lucius was surprised that her words hadn’t been accompanied by a stomp of her foot.

“Her persistence does get under my skin at times, but it was also partly what drove her to keep the child and to help our son. For that, I won’t fault her. “

“I try to be so kind to her, to help her. I know she misses her mother, especially now that she has a child of her own, and I’ve done my best to try to fill some of that void. Does she see that we really do want her to be part of our family? Have we been too subtle?” Narcissa wondered.

“It’s not in our nature to be as… bold in our expressions of affection as others might be. I’m sure she knows us well enough to understand that our natural reserve does not mean that we care any less for her,” Lucius postulated.

“I’m not so sure that’s the case. She’s talked about how warm and affectionate her parents were, and her friends are no less so. I’m not saying that we should spend all day hugging her or professing our undying affection; I just think that maybe we need to be slightly more… demonstrative, in ways that are still consistent with our personalities. Maybe that would allow her to relax a bit more with us, and be more open to a stronger bond.”

“Not to mention how that would beneficially impact our long-term plans,” he acknowledged, referencing the decree he’d engineered weeks earlier.

“Quite so,” Narcissa affirmed. “But that’s only part of the reason. I do want to her feel completely comfortable with us. We are her family now. Her friends serve an important role and purpose, but when all else is said, she needs to know that we are the ones upon whom she can rely.”

Lucius looked into his wife’s eyes, measuring the conviction he saw there against the degree to which he could, with minimal discomfort, shift his behavior. There was no contest; Narcissa’s will was as steely as the color of his eyes. His reply was a long, breathy sigh.

“Oh, Lucius, how is it any different from the way you treat Louisa? You’re positively mushy with her. I’m just asking that you allow your genuine feelings for Hermione to show.”

“And I suppose that means smiling at her and giving her compliments?” he surmised.

“Is that so horrible a fate?” Narcissa teased.

“No, I suppose it isn’t.” He breathed another deep sigh. “I must confess that I get a little charge from teasing her. Maybe I could show her more plainly that it really is in jest, and not meant to be a true barb.”

“Now, that’s the spirit!” Narcissa encouraged. “I do think she knows your penchant for needling her, and accepts it as your form of affection, but I’m sure she’ll appreciate any warmth and consideration you show to her, and may be more amenable to changing her mind about sharing the news with Draco.”

“I still think you’re being unrealistically optimistic about that, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt. I’ll do my best, dear,” Lucius promised, noting the increased noise level from the gathering in the room below them as more lively tunes apparently played. “Sounds like they’re having a good time,” he observed.

“As well they should. It almost makes me want to join them,” she mused. “Remember how much fun we used to have when we were first married? How often we’d go out to dance with our friends?”

“Narcissa, I fear you are romanticizing. We’ve never had the kind of friends that Miss Granger has. We had acquaintances and associates,” he observed.

“That may have been true for you, Lucius, but I had, and still have, a handful of friends with whom I could really let myself relax. That’s what I’ve wanted for Hermione through organizing her monthly gatherings. Everyone needs other people with whom to connect. I just want to be sure that she counts us among those people.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
While most of her guests were having a grand old time laughing, dancing, drinking, and generally being a little silly, Hermione was tucked into a corner with Ginny Weasley, a Muffliato charm blocking out the bulk of the noise from the larger group.

“So you haven’t changed your mind about telling Malfoy?” Ginny pressed.

Hermione shook her head vigorously. “No, and I can promise you that I won’t, for the foreseeable future.”

Ginny sighed with exasperation. “I honestly don’t understand this, Hermione. He really should be sharing your burden in this, and I think he also has a right to know.”

Hermione pursed her lips, fighting the urge to tell her friend to butt out. “The more I learn in my Healing classes, the more convinced I am that this is the right thing to do. If theory is correct, he’s at a fragile point right now, and I won’t contribute to anything that could cause him to relapse. Even if he’s made good progress, as his parents seem to indicate, his recovery is very delicate. He doesn’t need additional pressures.”

“But it’s okay for you to take it all on your own shoulders,” Ginny accused.

“I’m not!” she retorted. “Narcissa and Lucius do more than their share. They’ve been incredibly good to me and the baby, and not just in material ways. I can’t tell you how truly supportive they’ve been.”

“Are they still urging you to change your mind?”

Hermione stared at the hands clasped in her lap. “Not as blatantly as they did in the beginning, but there’s no doubt that they’d prefer that Draco know. “

“If you had told me two years ago that I’d be siding with the Malfoys on something, I’d have had you committed,” Ginny noted with a grin.

“True, but your reasoning is very different.”

“No doubt about that,” Ginny recognized. “It’s clear that they are decent people, Hermione, and I’m glad they’ve been good to you. They certainly have been much more welcoming to my family than I ever thought possible. But it’s also clear that their stake in this is drastically different than that of your friends.”

“I know, and I’m sure that the great bulk of their concern is because they don’t want to see Draco suffer for a minute more than he already has. And that’s my argument, too. I sincerely believe that it’s too soon for him to hear news this shocking and shattering. While they haven’t said an awful lot about his treatment, what they have told me makes it clear that his biggest issues are with guilt. I can’t fathom that this wouldn’t create another layer of responsibility that could push him over the edge.” She shook her head defiantly. “I absolutely will not do that to him.”

“What about you? Who’s looking out for you?” Ginny prodded.

“I have plenty of people who look out for me, including me, thank you very much. I’m a big girl, Ginny, and I’ve got good support systems in place, especially you and everyone else in this room. I’ve also learned a lot in the course of my studies, and I think my initial motivation in finding ways to help people like Draco has done as much to help me understand my own needs and concerns. And honestly, I can’t tell you how much Narcissa has helped me. Whenever I’m missing my mum, she seems to be right there for me. It’s uncanny, sometimes. I don’t know that she really understands just how much that means to me, or how much I’ve come to think of her as a mother to me.”

As the two former Gryffindors continued to debate the merits of sharing Louisa’s existence with her father, in a room four doors away, a wave of magic was absorbed into a piece of parchment, concealed within a hidden compartment behind a portrait of a six-year old Draco Malfoy. If anyone had been in the room, they would have seen a bright flash of blue light, and an intricate pattern of runes appear on the parchment, indicating that one of three conditions had been met.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco’s most recent appointment with Dr. Kate had been among the least stressful he’d had with her until its last five minutes. He was still wondering how she’d managed to wring such a concession out of him without blood being drawn. Their discussion to that point had been an extension of their on-going work in dealing with the concept of how his dreams affected sexual guilt and normal arousal.

One Week Ago…

“Draco, I’d like to spend a little time today talking about your dreams over the last few weeks. Tell me what you’ve noticed as themes or repetition,” Dr. Kate encouraged.

The young man shrugged. “They haven’t been all that different lately, except maybe some of them are a little less blatantly sexual.”

“Do they still relate to Miss Granger?” the Healer probed.

“Oh, yes. But it’s just as likely that we’re walking along a beach or sharing a meal as it is that there’s some kind of sexual component,” he explained.

“Why do you think that’s so?” she asked, hoping he’d instinctively understand the shift that was happening in his psyche.

Draco paused for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought and concentration. “I kind of wondered about that. I don’t see any obvious reason for it, but it feels more… balanced to me. I feel less anxious about them.”

Kate smiled broadly. While he hadn’t hit the nail on the head, he’d certainly picked up the right hammer for the job. “You used the word ‘balanced’ to describe how your dreams felt, and you’re definitely on the right track. You’ve found a greater equilibrium in your dreams because you’ve put parts of your life in better balance. Think about it – you’ve had success in your job, you’ve stopped having nightmares, you’ve begun to set aside some of the guilt over what you were forced to do, and you’ve learned that self-denial is unhealthy and counter-productive. I’d venture to say that your guilt over sexual self-gratification has dramatically diminished. What’s your reaction to that summary?”

Draco’s head dipped, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “I’d say it feels like it rings true. I know I feel a whole lot less stress than I did six months ago.”

“Then I think it’s time to push your comfort zone again,” she announced.

His answering groan prompted a chuckle and a tap on the top of his head with the notepad on which she’d been scratching her observations. He grinned in response at her teasing.

“So what buttons are you planning to push this time, Doc?” he wondered.

“Companionship,” she stated, pausing for a moment when Draco opened his mouth to lodge a protest and stalling any outburst with a raised hand. “Hear me out before you go off the rails.”

“Fine, but I’ll bet my last Galleon that I’m not going to like it,” he grumbled.

“You’ve said that about nearly every therapy protocol we’ve introduced, Draco, and I’d venture to say that you’ve changed your mind about at least a couple of them,” she needled, arching a dark eyebrow at him.

The blush that crept from his neck to the top of his forehead in a matter of seconds was sufficient answer. “Fine,” he mumbled. “What is it this time?”

“Look, I won’t be cruel here, and I’m not going to ask you to do something to which you are so adamantly opposed. In most cases, the appropriate next move would be to encourage you to actually ask someone out on a date, but eliminating that as a possibility, I’m going to ask you to participate in a purely friendly group outing of some sort.”

Draco sighed lightly, but relented relatively quickly. “That’s a little easier to deal with, I guess. What are the rules?”

“You already have them. A group outing, friends, acquaintances, colleagues, and that’s really about it. I would ideally like to see the group be a mix of men and women.”

“And I take it that I need to initiate this?” he guessed.

“Unless someone else manages to invite you to something in the next week,” she confirmed.

“By next week?” he asked incredulously, eyes gone wide in surprise.

“No time like the present!” she chirped brightly. “Besides, it doesn’t need to be an especially large group, nor does it need to be anything elaborate. Four or five people for a drink after work is perfectly sufficient,” she elucidated.

Draco swallowed. “Fine,” he ground out. He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning slightly.

Dr. Kate sniggered. “Trust me, Draco. It won’t be that bad.”

“No, I’m sure it’ll be worse. This has ‘disaster’ written all over it,” he mumbled under his breath.

Today….

Draco was debating how to approach his recounting of the previous evening’s activity as he spoke with Dr. Kate - whether to gloat at his accurate prediction or be chagrined and disappointed that the night had been, at least in his estimation, an unmitigated disaster. He acknowledged with a wry grin that he’d probably do a little of both. He was waiting for her now, fidgeting nervously in the comfortable leather chair, while she refilled her coffee mug from the ever-present pot (another habit she shared with her husband) on the credenza behind her desk. He’d refused her offer of a mug, fearing that his shaking hands would give away his fear that her next assignment would be… somehow worse, though he couldn’t immediately imagine how that could possibly occur.

She smiled at him pleasantly as she reclaimed her own seat. “So? Homework recap, young Mister Malfoy. Tell me what happened,” she instructed.

“You know I adore you, Doc, but you have proved with this one that you are pure evil,” he accused, softening his mostly-facetious taunt with a smirking grin. A shuddering sigh prefaced his account. “Last night, I invited three people from the night shift to join me for a drink after the restaurant closed. There’s a little bar about two blocks from the Grapevine, and I thought it would be an easy choice.”

When he paused to take a sip of water from the bottle he’d carried with him, Kate asked for some clarification. “When you say ‘three people,’ are we talking about male people, female people, or a mix?”

“A mix. There were two blokes and one girl who joined me.” When she waved a hand to indicate that he should continue, he added a few details. “They’re all about my age, maybe a year or two younger at most, and are all students at Salem State University. They work at the Grapevine to earn money for tuition and expenses, apparently. The guys are both unattached, as far as I know, and the girl has a boyfriend that she started seeing about three months ago.”

“You seem to know quite a bit about these people. Would you call them friends?” the therapist asked.

“Not in the ‘pour your heart out and risk your life for them’ sense, but we’ve all worked together for several months. I guess I’d call them friendly acquaintances.”

“Still, you seem to have a pretty good command of their life circumstances.”

Draco shrugged. “I’m observant. I learn by watching and listening. I guess I picked it up along the way.”

“Fair enough. So you invited them, they accepted, and you went to the bar together,” she summarized. “What happened then?”

“Since it was a Thursday night, the bar wasn’t terribly busy, so we grabbed a table, ordered a few snacks, and a pitcher of beer. We sat around chatting about baseball, work things, and whatnot for about twenty minutes when a group of girls came in.”

Kate arched an eyebrow in question. “Then what?”

“Tony and Rafael apparently knew them from school and invited them to join us. It would have been rude to object, so I just… went with the flow.”

“That’s generally a good strategy in those circumstances. And?”

“Well, there were four of them, not including Melissa from work, and us three blokes. One of them latched on to Tony, another tagged Rafael, and the other two decided that I was their target.” Draco sighed deeply. “For uni students, these two were the most vapid, brainless twits I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter. I suppose they weren’t horrid to look at, but I was thoroughly annoyed and disgusted by their behavior and their lack of decorum. You don’t hang all over someone you’ve just met five minutes before. It’s just not cricket!”

Kate was biting her lip, struggling mightily not to allow a laugh, chuckle, chortle, or snort to erupt. She breathed deeply to center herself, and asked another question, “What did you learn from the experience?”

“That I know why Hermione is so appealing to me. I find a girl with brains is far sexier than someone who throws herself at me. A girl with a heart as big as hers is always more attractive than someone who only cares about whether some bloke will have enough cash to buy her drinks all night.” Draco shook his head with resolve. “This is not for me. I’m not a ‘partying’ kind of guy. I think you know me well enough now to recognize that I’m a more serious, reserved person by nature. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want joy and fun in my life; it’s just that I find that in very different things. Honestly, I enjoy spending time with your boys more than I did that little gathering last night.”

“Well, my boys can be quite entertaining, but they aren’t the kind of friends who can support you in the way that your contemporaries could. We may just need to revise where and how we find those kinds of companions for you. I’d like to explore a couple of possibilities, and we’ll talk about it next time we meet.”

“I’m not opposed to meeting people, Doc. I just would prefer to find like-minded friends. I recognize that might be a challenge, but the truth is, I’d rather be entirely alone than spend one more night like last night.”
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Consequences and Complexities