Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4 – Dreams

Winters on the north shore of Massachusetts were unlike anything Draco had every experienced. Certainly, there had been snowstorms in England, and more frequently in Scotland while he’d been at Hogwarts, but not the relentless, constant barrage of storm after storm, some of them measured in feet rather than inches. The brutally cold temperatures and constant biting winds had taken their toll on his mood, making it as grey and dull as the winter sky.

“Draco, you seem terribly distracted today. What’s on your mind?” Dr. Roy pressed, watching the young man who stared out the window as yet more fluffy white flakes piled up on the Boston Commons.

He shrugged in response. “I haven’t spoken with my parents in a few days, and I’ve been feeling a little lonesome,” he confessed.

“I thought you spoke with them nearly every day. Is there a reason you’ve not been in contact recently?”

“Not that I’m aware. We just seem to be missing each other, I guess.”

“Tell me more about why you’re feeling lonesome, Draco.”

“Other than you and my parents, I don’t really have anyone that I talk with regularly,” Draco admitted.

“What about the people you work with?”

“They’re nice enough, but they all have their own friends and families. Not much time for the transplanted Brit, I’d say.”

“So you’re telling me that you still haven’t developed any relationships beyond strictly professional ones with your co-workers,” he summarized. “How about neighbors? People at the gym? Patrons from the restaurant?”

Draco shook his head in denial at each category. “I’ve never met any neighbors. I don’t go to the gym. Most of the customers at the restaurant are tourists, so they’re here for a very short time.”

“Then I can understand why you’re feeling lonely,” Dr. Roy commented. “Why have you never mentioned this isolation before, Draco?”

“I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought. It only started to hit me when I hadn’t spoken with my parents for a bit, that I really didn’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“Have you ever gone out to a local club or bar on the weekend, just to meet people?”

“No, I’m usually working on the weekend, and by the time I’m done, I’m just too exhausted to go out.”

“Draco, you’re only twenty-one years old. Most young men your age get by on five or six hours of sleep a night.”

“I guess I’m not most young men, then,” Draco responded, irritated at being compared to the drunks he saw stumbling around town as he made his way home late at night.

“Well, you’re not wrong there. Tell me why you find the prospect of going out to clubs so… unappealing?”

Draco started pacing, expending his excess energy in the only way he could at the moment. “Doc, I feel like I’m damaged goods. I have so little in common with the people I meet. I grew up with privilege, but turned out to be nothing more than a callous murderer and rapist. Half the people back home think of me as a war criminal, and the other half think I was so weak that my so-called cooperation with the Dark Lord had to be ‘guided’ with the use of spells and potions. I can’t please anyone with either who I was or who I really am. Why should I try?” Draco wondered, sounding horribly defeated.

“Why is others’ perception and acceptance of you so important to you?”

Draco swallowed hard. This man liked to ask brutally difficult questions, and he was feeling vulnerable and pressured.

“No editing, Draco. Quickly, now. Why is others’ perception and acceptance of you so important?”

“Because I’m not happy with how I see myself,” Draco blurted out before he could stop himself.

David Roy rose from his seat and approached Draco, grasping both of the younger man’s shoulders as he forced him to meet his steady, confident gaze. “Draco, you’re letting yourself be victimized again. This guilt is consuming you, and you’re allowing yourself to be dragged further down when you have a minor setback or disappointment. You need to push past this and find ways to connect to other people before you sink so far down that you won’t be able to crawl out of the hole.” The therapist paused for a moment. “Have you had a date since you got here?” he wondered. They’d skimmed the topic of his sexual experience a couple of times in the context of other issues, but it was time to dig a little deeper.

“A date? You mean like with a girl or something?”

If he weren’t so professional, he might have laughed in response at the stunned look on the young man’s face. “Or something? Are you gay, Draco? Is that a source of anxiety that we haven’t discussed. I’m sorry if I’ve …”

He stopped the man with an upraised hand before he could say anymore, spluttering and turning completely red. “Merlin, no! I’m most definitely not gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he amended.

“Fine. So you’re not gay. Why haven’t you seen any young ladies?”

“I’m… afraid,” Draco admitted.

“Of what?”

“That what I did to so many of them is who I am at the core.”

“Draco, my role as a therapist is to force you to look at your own thoughts, perceptions, motivations, and actions. Rarely do I give specific answers or point patients in a particular direction. I’m going to make a small exception here, because what I just heard you say is astounding. Hear this, and hear it loud and clear: Draco Malfoy is not a rapist. Draco Malfoy is not a murderer. Draco Malfoy is a decent young man who was forced to do things about which he was thoroughly unaware and unaccountable. You need this to be your new affirmation, because if you can’t get past this fundamental belief, there will be little more that I can do to help you.”

Draco sat in the black leather chair that he typically favored and ran his hands through his hair, tugging lightly in frustration. “Why can’t I get it out of my head, Doc? It haunts me every night. I dream about it constantly.”

“You’ve been holding out on me, Draco. That’s not going to help you. Tell me,” he scolded.

“I still can’t remember exactly what I did to her, but I’ll never forget the aftermath. There was so much blood, and I thought she was dead. I didn’t know why I’d done what I had, but I knew that I was responsible. She looked so small, so frail. The things that I had to do to make sure she survived were nearly as intrusive and unforgiveable as what I did to get her into that condition. And at the end of it all, she was so kind to me. She seemed more concerned about me than she was about herself, and I’ve never seen that happen before. I see her in my dreams every night,” he finished, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“We are talking about Miss Granger, correct?”

Draco nodded in confirmation.

“Every week I ask you the same question, Draco. What is that question?”

“It’s ‘How do you feel about Miss Granger today?’” he parroted.

“That’s right. And how do you usually answer me?”

“I usually tell you that I’m grateful for what she did for me, that I admire her strength, and that I wish I could make it up to her somehow.”

“That’s right, or some minor variation on those themes, correct?”

“Yes.”

“The fact is, you’ve never really answered my question. You tell me how you feel in relation to Miss Granger, but never how you feel about her. Why do you think that is?”

Draco had been in therapy just long enough to really understand the distinction that his counselor was making. It struck him like a wayward Bludger. “I…”

“You will never be able to answer the question about her until you resolve your own feelings about what happened, Draco, and you’re still wallowing in the guilt. You’ve told me that she forgave you and that you respected that she gave that forgiveness of her own free will. It seems to me that there’s something a little more complex going on here than a simple matter of guilt and forgiveness. Why are you so conflicted about this young woman?”

“Because she’s living, breathing proof that everything I thought I knew what dead wrong.”

“And her existence makes yours… what?”

“A joke,” Draco spat bitterly.

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said ‘bullshit.’ I think you’ve been here long enough to be familiar with the term.”

“We use it in England too, you know. How is what I said not valid?”

“So the fact that she’s smart, and capable, and magically powerful, and her blood is just as red as yours makes your life not… serious?”

“It means that everything I lived for five years, whether or not I was fully aware of what I was doing, could be thoroughly disproved with one example. How many others were there, that met the same criteria? How many people died for nothing more than bigotry?”

“I’m sure the number is both staggering and appalling, but it doesn’t answer the question about you. What does answer the question about you is the fact that you are now questioning – quite vigorously, in fact – the validity of things you were raised to believe and manipulated into acting upon. You have learned some incredibly powerful lessons, sadly at great cost, but you have recognized the folly and fallacy of bigotry. Some people never get there in their entire lives. We still deal with it here in the States constantly with racial discrimination. It’s fundamentally no different than purebloods who shut Muggleborns and Half-bloods out of power roles in the Wizarding world.”

“So you think it means that I’ve made progress because I recognize that Granger is smart, capable, powerful and attractive.” Draco gasped as he realized what he’d said. The gasp, of course, drew Dr. Roy’s attention to his words even further.

“You’ve never said that before.”

“What?” he hedged, hoping that the doctor noticed something else.

“That you thought she was attractive. Why do you think that came up now?”

“Ah, fuck. I don’t know.”

“And what if you did know?” The cheeky bugger had the audacity to chuckle. He knew how Draco hated it when he pulled that one out of the proverbial hat.

“You know how to push my buttons, don’t you?” Draco complained. “Look, she’s a very pretty girl. She’s also the last woman I had any contact with.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Draco. Could you be more specific?”

“I’d rather not.” Draco lifted his right brow in a gesture that had often intimidated his Slytherin housemates into submission. He should have known it wouldn’t work very well with Dr. Roy.

The therapist lifted a brow right back at him. “Humor me.”

“You are determined to humiliate me, aren’t you? She was really good at that.”

“No. If you want me to help you, I need to understand what’s going on in there.” He reached over and tapped the side of Draco’s head.

“Argghh. The last time I truly remember being, uh, sexual with a girl was when I was fifteen years old. I know intellectually that I’ve had… relations with more women than I could count, but I don’t remember any of them, and they were not consensual in nature. The last time I really felt any kind of normal arousal was just before Granger and I were rescued from the cottage, and I, uh, took advantage of it.”

“With her?”

“No. Alone.”

“Ah. I see.” Dr. Roy was silent for a moment; he seemed to be debating where to take the conversation next. His decision made, he cleared his throat once and asked another question. “Has that been a recurrent theme?”

“Not voluntarily. As I said earlier, I dream about her every night.”

“Are all of those dreams the same, or do they have different patterns?”

“My dreams are of three or four different types. Some are about the conversations we had in the cottage. Some are about my trial and how she spoke for me. Some are about the aftermath of the attack, or what I imagine the attack was like. The final type is about being aroused by her.”

“By her? As in, she’s touching you in some way?”

“No, well, yes. Sometimes. It’s more often me as a voyeur.”

“You on the outside, looking in, so to speak.”

“Yes.”

“Draco, I know this will be an embarrassing question, but you need to be honest with me about this. It’s important. Do you ever get aroused by anyone else, or any other kind of sexual stimulus?”

“Rarely.”

“How often do you masturbate?”

“What?”

“How often?”

“Rarely. If I have a climax, it’s usually as the result of a dream.”

“What does ‘rarely’ mean? Once a week? Once a month?”

“Intentionally self-pleasuring? Maybe three or four times since I’ve been here in Salem. That’s about ten or eleven months, I guess.”

“Do you have morning erections?” Dr. Roy asked, deliberately using his most professional, clinical tone.

“Yes.”

“Every day?”

“Yes.”

“What do you do about them?”

“Nothing. I let them fade.”

“Always?”

“Just about.”

“What constitutes the difference between when you let them fade and when you do something about it?”

“If it’s painful to leave it.”

“And what causes that?”

“That usually happens if I’ve had an intense dream, but awakened before I’ve had a release.”

“Okay. Draco, have you ever had a relationship with a girl that included sexual intimacy?”

“Once, during the summer I turned sixteen.”

“How long did that relationship last?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“Your first? Lots of exploration, but not lots of emotional connection, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve never made love.”

“No. The truth is that other than playing around with that girl, I’ve never had intercourse that wasn’t forced,” he admitted with regret and shame.

“How do you feel about that?”

“How do you think I feel?” Draco growled. “I’m a despicable excuse for a man.”

“No, Draco, that’s not true. What is true, however, is that your sexual experience and responses have been badly compromised.”

“No shit, doc.”

“I have a recommendation that I’d like you to consider.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I’d like you to see a sex therapist in conjunction with your work with me.”

Draco’s expression was unreadable. He adopted a blank gaze as a defense mechanism and waited for the doctor to say more.

“You’re not giving me much to work with here, Draco. How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know. What would that entail? And why do you recommend seeing a separate counselor?”

“I’ll take your last question first. Sex therapy is a very specific discipline that helps patients work out their problems with sexual perception and function. While all psychotherapists are trained in the fundamentals, there are times when a more in-depth approach is needed. A healthy sex life is as important as a healthy circulatory system; it’s one of life’s basic needs along with eating and sleeping. If someone is not functioning well sexually, there are numerous repercussions, including clinical depression, physical ailments, and sleep disturbances. What it entails is mostly conversations like we have, but there are sometimes other strategies employed, similar to some of the homework I’ve asked you to do, except focused on your sexual responses.”

“Why do you think I need a sex therapist?”

“What you’ve described to me is not normal sexual function for a man of your age. We would likely classify you as a victim of sexual trauma or abuse because of the way you were manipulated. You’ve never learned how to build a healthy relationship with a partner that includes physical intimacy. The teenage years and early twenties are the time that most young people learn what works and what doesn’t, both in terms of the physical and the emotional. You were robbed of that opportunity, so your sexual development was effectively halted at sixteen. The good news is that you are absolutely young enough and psychologically stable enough to ‘catch up’ to your age peers, and probably within a relatively short period. It helps that you are intelligent and curious.”

“That all sounds logical and appropriate, but I don’t know any sex therapists, and I, uh, don’t know how I’d pay for additional treatment,” Draco admitted reluctantly. “I can’t imagine that the Ministry would approve payments so that I can have a healthy sex life.”

Dr. Roy smiled slightly; he’d clearly been thinking about this and had a solution to offer. “As it happens, I know a fabulous sex therapist, and don’t worry about the money. We’ll work something out.”

“Who is this therapist?”

“Dr. Kathryn Roy, a lovely lady, a capable witch, and my beautiful wife.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “You are married to a sex therapist? That must make life interesting,” he mused.

David laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“I can’t take services without paying for them, doc. It’s out of the question.”

Dr. Roy thought for a moment. “Do you like kids?”

“I haven’t had a lot of exposure to little ones, but yes, I’d say that kids are good. I mean, I’ve told you that one of my dreams is to have a family of my own someday, however unlikely that may be.”

“Let’s give this idea a run. I have two small boys, Daryl and Thomas. They are five and seven years old. It’s often challenging for my wife and I to get someone to look after them on weekend mornings when we have appointments. I know you don’t usually go to work until about noon. What would you say to hanging out with them in our home for a couple of hours on Saturday mornings in exchange for one hour of appointment time with Kathryn?”

“Are you saying that you would trust me to mind your children, with everything that you know about me?” Draco asked, incredulously.

“Yes.” His tone was unequivocal.

“Well, I’m honored that you would trust me in that way, but I have no idea what to do with two little ones.”

“They entertain themselves pretty well with their toys, so it’s just a matter of supervising to be sure they don’t hurt themselves or get into things that they shouldn’t. You can just play games with them, or read to them. They do enjoy that.”

“That doesn’t sound too complicated. But how would your wife feel about this? Shouldn’t you be sure that she’s not going to have any objections?”

“That’s a very mature and astute suggestion, Draco.” Dr. Roy stopped for a moment, apparently considering his next words carefully. “Truth be told, I’ve already discussed it with her. Since you’ve had so much difficulty in talking about and dealing with your sexual identity in the few months that we’ve been working together, I’ve been consulting with her on the best ways to approach this with you. This was her idea.”

“I see,” Draco replied, his jaw clenching.

“You seem unhappy about that. Tell me why.”

“It’s just rather uncomfortable knowing that I’ve been the topic of conversation outside these walls. I thought everything we discussed was confidential.”

“And it is. Kathryn is a partner in my practice, and our discussions were clinical consultations, not pillow talk. No professional standards have been breached or compromised, Draco.” Dr. Roy looked the young man directly in the eyes, allowing him to see his sincerity and truthfulness.

Draco sighed. “Fine. How much does she know, and when would we get started?”

“She understands the basics, but if you agree to this plan, she will have full access to your case file, and she and I will conduct an in-depth clinical review to ensure that we are managing your treatment protocols together. We would begin as soon as we can get you scheduled in her calendar, which would be within the week.”

Draco considered the therapist’s idea again and couldn’t really find any fault in it. He knew that he needed help; it wasn’t normal for a healthy young man to be so apathetic about sex. “I’ll do it.”

“Good. That’s a great decision, Draco, and in the months to come, you’ll be glad you made it.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“I can’t believe how much she’s grown in eight weeks,” Narcissa marveled. “Her features are becoming more defined. I see quite a mixture of you and Draco in her.”

“Really? I see Draco, through and through,” Hermione commented, just a bit wistfully.

“She has his hair color and eye color, to be sure, but I think she has your nose and chin. And her hair is not at curly as yours, but Draco’s was straight as a pin, even at this age,” the new grandmother noted.

“Mmm. She is a pretty baby, isn’t she?” Hermione asked.

“She’s beautiful. And she has such a sweet disposition. I only hear her cry when she’s hungry or needs changing. Draco was like that too. Always smiling and laughing. He was easily amused,” Narcissa recalled with a grin. Her expression turned melancholy. “I do so wish he could see her now.”

“Please, Narcissa, let’s not have that discussion again today.” Hermione let out an exasperated breath.

“Hermione, I’m not trying to create any additional tension, I promise you. I just know how precious all of Draco’s milestones were to me and his father, and I’m saddened that he won’t experience them with Louisa.”

The younger witch sighed. Narcissa did have a point. There was no way she’d burden Draco with this infant now, but it was certainly possible that at some time in the distant future, he might want to know what his daughter had been like as she grew. Before she could over-think her split second decision, Hermione made an offer, one she was sure that Narcissa would not refuse. “What if we were to carefully catalog all of Louisa’s milestones by preserving our memories so that Draco could view them in a Pensieve some day?”

Narcissa blushed, something that Hermione had rarely seen her do. “If I may make a confession, dear, I’ve already begun to do that. Lucius and I have each stored a half-dozen memories already. I hope you’re not angry,” she pleaded.

Hermione pursed her lips, more in amusement than anger. “I should have known you’d think of that,” she commented.

“I think it would be nice for you to include some of yours as well, Hermione. If not for Draco’s use, then for your own reminiscences as Louisa grows.”

“Then I guess it’s my turn for a confession. I’ve already tucked away a couple of dozen. In the Muggle world, I would have been taking photographs, but this is so much more satisfying. To know that I’ll be able to look back on her birth, her first night at home, even her first stretch when she’s all grown up was a temptation that I couldn’t resist.”

“Wonderful. Then we’re agreed that we’ll continue to store memories for both our own and Draco’s use in the future. Lucius will be thrilled. He did so hate to sneak around, and you know he’s already thoroughly smitten with the child, as am I.”

Hermione gently stroked the forehead of the child held firmly in her arms, staring at her as though memorizing every molecule of her soft, pink skin. “What’s not to love?”

“While we’re confessing things, Hermione, I have one more thing to share with you.”

Hermione tore her eyes away from her daughter reluctantly, but met Narcissa’s with indulgence. “I’m all ears,” she offered lightly.

“I was concerned that you might have difficulty bonding with Louisa, because of the way she was conceived. I am so thrilled to see that I was wrong.” She reached out and touched Hermione’s arm in a gesture of appreciation and affection.

“I can understand why you might have been worried about that. I’ll have to be honest that I was just the tiniest bit bothered about that myself. But I think that when I reached the decision to have her and raise her, I started connecting with her. I don’t know if you realized it, but before I went to bed at night while I was pregnant, I read to her. All kinds of things, not just children’s books. I wanted her to know the sound of my voice and to be soothed by it. I think I really started falling in love with her then.”

“I didn’t know that, but I think it’s lovely. She’ll probably love books as much as you do,” Narcissa observed.

“Draco once told me that he loved to read, too,” Hermione observed.

“Yes, he did. He could often be found in the library downstairs when he was growing up. He’d read all kinds of things. I remember Lucius hiding some of the… darker texts that the family owned so that he wouldn’t stumble upon them. His tastes, as I recall, were quite eclectic.”

Hermione was snickering, and Narcissa really didn’t understand why.

“What’s amusing, dear? I’m afraid I’ve missed something.”

“I was just thinking about a story Draco told me when we were at the cottage, about finding some… interesting materials when he was about twelve. Apparently, Lucius was quite unhappy about that and did a good job of hiding the items from Draco, regardless of his numerous attempts to find them.”

“Ah. Yes. I recall the incident. Lucius had a rather extensive collection of prurient literature and imagery. I must admit that he and I had a bit of a chuckle over that. I think he actually destroyed the bulk of his collection when that happened,” Narcissa noted with an amused smirk. “If I may ask, Hermione, what prompted you and him to talk about that?”

“Oh, gosh, I don’t really remember. We had a couple of conversations just to pass the time, and I think we were talking about embarrassing moments, or maybe interesting reading. I honestly don’t recall,” she replied, shrugging.

“You’ve talked so little about what happened there. I often wonder if you’ve come to terms with all of it,” Narcissa probed gently. “You know that Draco has been seeing a Mind Healer for a few months now, and it seems to be helping him. Have you considered doing that for yourself?”

“I have. Actually, I went to see a Mind Healer every day for about three weeks after our rescue. I’d heard that the better technique to deal with a short-term trauma was to immerse yourself in treatment. That’s the option I chose, and it seemed to help me quite a lot. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have difficult moments now and again, but I’ve learned coping skills. I think it helps that I truly understood what Draco was going through, and I honestly forgave him. That was very healing for me, to not hold on to the anger that I might have felt if he’d truly been responsible for his actions.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You know, Lucius and I do worry about you. While you are not officially a Malfoy, you are our granddaughter’s mother, and that is very important to us. More than that, we’ve become very fond of you as a person, apart from everything you did to help Draco. I hope you know that.”

“I do, and I’m very fond of you and Lucius. You’ve been nothing but kind and welcoming through the entire time and Merlin knows, you didn’t need to do that. I feel like I’m welcome here.”

“You are, and we both hope that you’ll stay with us for as long as you wish. We would love to be able to watch Louisa grow. Obviously, we don’t know what the future holds for Draco, but we’re hopeful that he will grow to accept and love her someday.”

“We’re a long way from that, Narcissa. It will be more than two years before he’s back from Salem. An awful lot can happen in that time. We’ll just need to take things one step at a time.”

“I won’t argue that with you, dear. But you will stay with us, won’t you?”

“Yes, about that. I’ve had a thought or two about what I’d like to do now that Louisa has arrived. I hope you’ll be supportive of my plan.”

“What did you have in mind, Hermione?”

“I’d like to go to St. Mungo’s School for Magical Medical Professions and become a Mind Healer. It would mean going to classes every day for at least several hours for eighteen months, and later working at the hospital as a trainee for six months before earning my certificate. I would need to have someone look after Louisa while I’m in class. Would you be willing to consider helping me achieve this goal?”

Narcissa was a bit taken aback. Young mothers in the Wizarding world typically did not work. Then again, it was clear that this was no ordinary young woman. The heart of gold she’d displayed when she’d testified for Draco and given him her forgiveness was apparently aching to be of further service. How could she begrudge her such a worthy aim? “I can see no reason that we’d not support you in any way you wish. In fact, I insist on paying your tuition.”

Hermione immediately opened her mouth to protest. She had a substantial financial award from the Ministry for her pivotal work in the war effort, and she’d been the sole heir of the nine Grangers who’d been murdered early in the conflict. She’d inherited a fair amount of money, not enough for a lifetime of comfort, but certainly enough to finance her needs for the next five or six years until her career was established.

“Don’t even think about refusing me. It is customary in the Wizarding world for the father’s family to bestow items of value on an heir’s mother. Since you’ve never shown any interest in jewelry, which is the most traditional gift, I’d like to convert the value so that it pays your tuition and expenses. It’s nothing more than what’s expected of Louisa’s grandparents,” she concluded firmly. “You know me by now, Hermione, and you can be certain that I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. So just say ‘Thank you, Narcissa’ and we can be done with it.”

“But…”

Narcissa waggled her finger to deny Hermione’s challenge. “What did I say? None of that. It’s done.”

Seeing defeat as inevitable, Hermione agreed with a sigh. She’d find some way to repay them someday, she promised herself. “Yes, Narcissa. Thank you, Narcissa.”

“That’s better, dear!” Her trilling laughter filled the room as she extended a hand to help Hermione out of the rocking chair. “Now we should go tell Lucius what he’s going to do.”
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Consequences and Complexities