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Consequences and Complexities	By : ckllsdam Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 16346 -:- 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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 8 – Heart-sore

“Have you been able to get him to tell you any more about what’s going on in his dreams?” David Roy asked of his wife and clinical partner. They were conducting their regular bi-weekly treatment review of patients they shared and of the more difficult cases in their individual practices.

Kate shook her head as she chewed on the cranberry mini-muffin she’d selected as a mid-morning snack. “Other than getting him to tell me that better than half tend to be graphically sexual in content, he’s not been able to give me any more useful detail. I’m not convinced, though, that he’s telling me everything he knows about them on a conscious level. I think he’s holding back.”

David wasn’t terribly surprised to hear this; the young man was reluctant at times to reveal some of the deeper details, and thus meanings, of his troubles. Other times he was thoroughly open and forthcoming. He hadn’t yet been able to determine what prompted the difference. “I wonder how aware he is of what he’s withholding and why. I’m convinced there’s a theme to it, and I have a couple of theories. I think most of it is related to his final victim, the girl he knew from school, Miss Granger.”

She nodded in agreement. “I definitely think you’re right about that. And I’m more convinced than ever that he’s subconsciously suppressing his normal sexuality as a form of self-punishment or penitence.”

“I’d have to agree with you there, if push came to shove. There’s obviously normal sexual function available to him because he is able to achieve erection and reach orgasm in the context of his dreams. He’s denying that outlet to himself when he’s awake and aware, and I think he’s afraid to acknowledge what arouses him.”

“And you think it has something to do with the Granger girl?”

“I do. Did he tell you about what happened just before they were rescued from that cottage?” David wondered.

“No. We haven’t had that conversation. Why?”

“Check my notes on it, but in a nutshell, he says that the last time he really gave in to a sexual urge was after he’d helped her take a shower just before they were retrieved.”

“With her?” she asked, incredulous.

“No. Masturbation.”

“Do you think he developed a fixation on her?”

“I think it’s a possibility, but I also believe there’s more to it than that. You should explore that event more fully.”

“I agree. I’ll bring it up in our next appointment.”

“When is that?”

She checked her appointment book quickly. “Tomorrow, at seven o’clock.”

“I’m seeing him today at five. I want to work on the guilt angle a little more today. I think we’ve made some progress there, but he’s still got a long way to go.”

Kate nodded again in agreement. “I’ve seen some incremental progress, too, but he still struggles to talk openly about any sexual issue. I haven’t even started exercises for him yet because he still can’t say ‘erection’ without turning four shades of red. Sometimes I wonder if he’s having difficulty talking with me because I’m a woman.”

“Poor kid. I feel for him,” David remarked, shaking his head sadly. “I don’t think your gender has anything to do with it, though. He’s just as reticent with me.”

“You know, if you think about his background, it’s not terribly difficult to understand why he’s so repressed, even if he’d never been a victim of sexual trauma. I did a little research. He comes from one of the oldest Wizarding families on record. You can trace them back at least twelve-hundred years before documentation starts to get sketchy. Families like his tend to be focused on duty and responsibility, not love and relationship. That’s a big part of why he’s so screwed up. He views himself as a failure to his family as much as to society. That would practically be a death-blow among his peer group, and his fears of being ostracized are not unfounded.”

“So that probably contributes to why he’s been so reluctant to build even simple friendships, never mind any kind of romantic entanglements.”

“Did I tell you what he said to me about why he wanted treatment for his problem?”

“No. What did he say?” David paused to take a long sip of his ever-present cup of strong black coffee.

“He wanted to be able to carry out his duty to continue the family line.”

David winced and once again shook his head in poignant disbelief. “Talk about pressure. Thanks for sharing that with me. It’ll help with some of the tracks I’m going to follow.”

“Anytime, Sweetie,” she acknowledged as she rose from her seat after checking the time on her wristwatch. “Got to go. My next appointment should be here in less than five minutes and I want to give a quick once-over to my notes. See you for lunch?”

“Sure. I’ll order sandwiches in, and we can finish with the rest of the list then. Turkey on rye?”

“Perfect. Love you!” Kate kissed her husband quickly and darted out the door to her own office.

“Love you, too,” he called out as she disappeared around the corner, turning his attention back to the stack of files balanced on his knee.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco barely had time to make it home for a quick shower after his shift at the restaurant if he wanted to be on time for his appointment with Dr. David. His sex therapist had been right about one thing – calling them both “Dr. Roy” could lead to a little confusion, so he’d adopted her suggestion and referred to them with the appropriate honorific and their first names. The thought that he actually had a sex therapist caused him to shake his head in mild disbelief.

He stripped off his uniform of white shirt and black trousers, then tossed his socks and boxers into the hamper. Since he was now wholly responsible for doing his own laundry and chores, he’d become much more diligent about putting things in their proper place. He’d certainly come to appreciate what the house-elves and various hired servants did to make his life easier. He’d never take them for granted again. Reaching through the gap in the curtain into the tub-cum-shower, he turned on the tap and smiled gratefully when the falling water was at the perfect temperature. He stepped over the side of the claw-footed tub and under the stream, wetting his head and hair first. He scrubbed at his face with open palms in an effort to erase the weariness that accompanied the end of this trying day.

Draco allowed his thoughts to drift as he reached for the bar of sandalwood scented soap that he’d left in the wire holder hooked over the side of the tub, scrubbing his arms, neck, chest, and torso. He’d had an… interesting day at the restaurant. At the first table he’d served for the day, his heart had nearly stopped when he’d seen the curly brown hair of the woman seated at the table with her back to him. He’d nearly asked one of his colleagues to take the table for him until he’d managed to get enough of a side view of the woman to determine with near certainty that she wasn’t who he feared she was. Regardless, it had thrown him for the rest of the shift and he’d brought the wrong meal to two different patrons, a mistake he hadn’t made since his first week in the position.

His problem now was that he couldn’t get the original curly-haired woman in his life out of his head. The last time he’d seen her, in the closing moments of his trial, she’d looked at him with such kindness and compassion. Only his mother had ever rivaled that level of feeling. He had no illusions that Granger felt anything for him other than empathy for his difficult adolescence, but it annoyed him to no end that the woman continually invaded his thoughts. Like now. The picture currently running through his brain was the one that he recalled far too often for comfort. The vision of her silhouette against the shower curtain was the topic of dreams more frequently than he cared to admit, and now and again slipped through to his conscious mind, causing a situation like the one currently at hand.

He turned off the hot water tap, in direct contradiction to the promise he’d made to himself so many months earlier, and allowed the cold stream of liquid to douse his arousal. He would not reduce her to an object of masturbatory fantasy; it just wasn’t right. His objective quickly achieved, he reinstated the hot water flow, and shampooed and rinsed his hair. One final twist of the taps turned off the flow of water and he stepped out of the tub, reaching for the towel that he rubbed across his scalp briskly, then tied around his hips.

Draco moved to his bedroom to find something to wear. Jeans and a jumper – no, “sweater” here in the States, he reminded himself – would be appropriate. Thick woolen socks and dark blue cotton briefs were retrieved from his dresser and donned quickly in the slightly cool room. The black jeans were found folded in the large wardrobe, and his favorite charcoal grey sweater was located on the top shelf. After he’d finished lacing up his shoes, he returned to the bathroom for a quick comb-through of his hair – he’d need a cut soon – and a thorough brushing of his teeth. Taking a deep breath, he pronounced himself ready, and moved to the study to activate the Floo for the trip to the offices of the Doctors Roy.

After a quick soot dust-off, Draco made his way to the main entrance where Muggle and wizard alike gained access to the waiting room and administrative offices of the practice. There, the petite blonde receptionist, who he’d previously learned was called Hillary, asked him to take a seat while Dr. David finished with his current patient. “Won’t be more than five minutes,” she told him.

He took a seat at one end of a leather sofa and selected a two-month-old sports magazine from the stack of dog-eared publications on the nearby end table. The headlines proclaimed the recent Super Bowl victory of an apparently local football team called the Patriots. He was somewhat confused as he thought that the Muggle sport of football was played with a round white and black ball. Here, he saw a brown leather object that vaguely resembled a speckled egg with tapered ends, this held in the hands of a man wearing an imposing helmet and shoulder protection that far exceeded what he’d used in Quidditch. He barely had time to flip to the indicated page to clarify whatever misunderstanding he’d had about the sport when Dr. David appeared at the door, asking him to step in to his office.

Draco dropped the magazine where he’d found it - it wasn’t all that important to him anyway – and followed his therapist down the hall.

“Good to see you, Draco. How are you today?” Dr. David inquired, more out of general good manners than as an entrée into their discussion.

“I’m, uh, fine. And you?” Draco returned as the two men took their respective seats.

“Very well, thanks. I heard that hesitation from you, though, Draco. Something bugging you?”

“You’re getting to know me too well,” Draco complained, without rancor. “It’s unnerving.”

“That’s my job. The best way to help you is to know you as well as I possibly can. That includes interpreting your mercurial moods and subtle intonations. And by the way, you aren’t so good at hiding it when you’re troubled by something. So what’s going on?”

“I just had a tough day at work,” Draco hedged.

“And?” The good doctor would not allow him to get away with his avoidance tactic.

“I saw a person at work today who reminded me of someone, and it threw me. I couldn’t shake it all day.”

“You know what I’m going to ask, Draco…”

“I’m just stalling so I don’t have to say it aloud.”

“And you should know by now that I won’t let you get away with that one,” the therapist scolded lightly.

“Of course I do. That doesn’t mean I won’t make the attempt.”

Dr. David just stared pointedly at his patient in reply.

“Fine. She reminded me of Granger. Happy now?” Draco huffed.

“I’m delirious, but how do you feel? About seeing someone that reminded you of her?”

Draco leaned forward in his seat and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “At first, I was terrified. My instinct was to ask one of my co-workers to take the table for me. When I was finally sure it wasn’t her, I plucked up my courage and served the party. But it left me shaky. I made two mistakes with orders, and I haven’t done that in months.”

“What else?” Dr. Roy asked the standard probe meant to elicit more information, not necessarily expecting to learn more but leaving the proverbial door open.

“Then I couldn’t get her out of my head, because the reminder felt so visceral. Will she ever stop haunting me, Doc?”

“Do you want her to?”

“Hunh. Fair question.”

“So?”

“There are times when I’m really horrified that she seems to be so ever-present in my mind. Sometimes it makes me want to scream when she’s so… near. Other times, it feels comforting and… right. Almost like she’s there to encourage me or support me in some way. It’s very… confusing.”

“When are you horrified by her presence?”

“In my dreams, mostly.”

“You’ve been very reluctant to talk about the content of those dreams, Draco, other than to say that she’s a major character in them. You need to be honest with me if you want me to help. What’s the reason that you won’t talk about what happens in those dreams? Do you not remember them, or are you too embarrassed by them?” He figured now was as good a time as any to push through this issue that was blocking the young man’s progress.

“Easily half of my dreams of her are sexual in some way,” he answered in a whisper. “In some of them, I’ve attacked her as I did in reality, and I’m begging her for forgiveness, but I’ve still done that horrible thing and taken my pleasure from her against her will. In others, I’m a voyeur as she goes about her business, but it arouses me and I use her image to fuel my fantasies. Once in a great while, I’m actually making love to her as I imagine it should be. Those are usually the ones where I wake up… unsatisfied, and they are probably the ones that trouble be the most.”

“Is she the only actual person who appears in your sexually explicit dreams?”

“Yes.”

“What about outside your dreams?”

Draco flushed and cursed his pale English skin for its failure to hide his humiliation. “Yes.”

“Draco, I’m going to suggest that you discuss this with Kate tomorrow. I’m not quite ready to let you off the hook here, but we’re going to explore a different angle on this than you will with her.”

Draco nodded in understanding.

“I’m going to give you three words, and I want you to give me your definition for each of them. Then, I want you to give me an example of how it plays a role in your life.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“The first word is ‘accountability.’ You can take a brief moment to think about it if you need to.”

Draco paused for a moment, a look of deep concentration creasing his brow. “Accountability is the willingness to accept both the consequences and the rewards of an action you’ve taken or caused to be taken.”

“What do you mean by ‘caused to be taken’?” David pressed.

“Well, if a supervisor instructs an employee to do something, the supervisor would be ultimately accountable for the action, because it was his decision.”

“Thanks. And now, how does accountability play a role in your life?”

“If I make a mistake at work, like giving the wrong order to someone, or dropping a plate, it’s up to me to fix it.”

David made a couple of scribbles in his notebook. “The second word is ‘responsibility.’”

“I’m, uh, not sure how that’s different from accountability,” Draco began, “but if I had to identify some distinction, I guess I’d say that accountability is more external and responsibility is more internal.”

“Say more about that.”

“Accountability is something that comes from an outside measure, like job performance or legal things. Responsibility is how you feel about it, whether you take the things you do to heart.”

“And responsibility in your life is…”

“Feeling that it was appropriate for me to be punished for the things that I did, regardless of how they came to be.”

“The final word, Draco, is ‘guilt.’”

Draco’s face pinched into a weary, pained expression. “That’s one I think I’ve come to know well. It’s how you feel remorse and sadness for the things you’ve done wrong.”

“Even though the law deemed you not accountable for those things?” David asked.

“Just because the law says one thing, it doesn’t mean that I’m not heart-sick over it,” Draco announced.

“Okay. I get that. Let me add one more word for you, and get your distinction between that and guilt. Tell me what ‘remorse’ means.”

“Wishing that you hadn’t done something. Feeling sorry for what you’ve done that’s hurt someone else.”

“How is that different from guilt?” the counselor pressed once more.

“I’m… uh…I guess I don’t see a distinction.”

“Tell me how ‘guilt’ feels, physically. How does your body react to feeling guilt?”

“I feel like my blood is hot and my pulse races. My chest gets… tight,” he said, subconsciously rubbing at his sternum, “and my stomach churns. I feel like I want to vomit.”

“And with remorse?”

“Hunh, I think I see what you mean. That has less of a physical element to it, but it makes me depressed, like I want to, uh, weep. It’s more in my head than in my heart, I guess.”

“What do you think causes the physical difference in your reactions?”

“I haven’t any idea, but I’m guessing that you do, Doc.”

“Some of it is a pure adrenaline reaction to a specific, overwhelming negative stimulus. It’s that ‘fight or flight’ reaction, and your body is actually fighting with itself because it’s so hard to reconcile what you’ve done with who you think you really are, or who you would wish to be.”

“From a purely intellectual perspective, I can understand that. What I don’t know how to do is stop feeling it,” Draco confessed.

“That’s where our weekly question comes in, Draco. How do you feel about Miss Granger today?”

“Confused, horrible, in awe.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After a significantly less stressful day at work than the previous one, Draco arrived at home with time for a hot shower and a brief rest before his appointment with the other Doctor Roy. His sessions with Dr. Kate were always a bit more nerve-racking than those with her husband. He hadn’t quite figured out why, though he thought it might have something to do with how hard he seemed to be battling his normal male sex drive. He’d started to wonder exactly what it was that made him so apathetic and uncomfortable about his very natural urges and needs. At least he’d made that much progress – Dr. Kate had helped him to see his nocturnal and early morning urges as part of who he was as a male. It was the “giving in” part that was infinitely more difficult to reconcile.

At ten minutes till seven, he reluctantly pushed off the sofa to make the two minute Floo connection that would deposit him at his therapists’ office.

At three minutes till seven, Hillary told him that Dr. Kate was just finishing a phone call and would be with him momentarily.

At one minute after seven, his nervous anticipation overrode his good manners and he rose from the waiting room’s leather sofa to pace the floor. He was grateful that, for once, there were no other patients awaiting their appointment.

Two minutes later, Dr. Kate appeared at the door leading to the private offices and beckoned Draco to follow her. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. There was a little emergency that needed to be handled,” she explained as they entered her office.

“A sex emergency?” Draco asked, unable to disguise his amusement and incredulity.

“Well, yes. One of my patients has been using a medical therapy in conjunction with our treatment, and it, uh, didn’t go quite as expected.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to belittle someone’s problem,” Draco offered hurriedly, embarrassed to have made a faux pas.

“Don’t worry about it, Draco. We’re all curious. And ‘little’ definitely wasn’t the problem this time. Just be thankful that you weren’t the one suffering from a four-hour erection. Not a good thing,” she stated, shuddering. “Oh, before we get started, I just wanted to ask if you could come by the house about fifteen minutes earlier on Saturday. The boys are going to Little League baseball try-outs in a couple of weeks and I wanted to make a quick stop at the sporting goods store before work.”

“Sure, the timing is no problem, but what’s ‘baseball,’ if you don’t mind my asking,” Draco wondered. He’d had a good deal of enjoyment getting to know the Roys’ two young sons, but he couldn’t recall them ever talking about the sport she mentioned.

“How long have you been living here? Ten, eleven months? And you don’t know what baseball is?” Kate was genuinely stunned.

Draco shook his head in reply.

“Well, we’ll have to rectify that. We Bostonians are passionate about baseball in general and our Red Sox in particular. You’ll have to ask David to explain the finer points, but it’s a sport that’s played on a field that’s called a ‘diamond.’ There are nine men on each side, and they alternate between playing offense and defense within each portion of the game, called an ‘inning.’ One player throws a small white ball and another player tries to hit it with a bat, um, stick, and score runs by touching the bases before they get thrown out, and the te…”

Draco raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, Dr. Kate, you lost me at ‘red socks.’ What does the color of one’s undergarments have to do with a sport?”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, it might be better if we just have you join us to watch a game. Spring training begins very soon, and most of them are televised. I must say that I’m stunned that you haven’t seen one yet.”

“Well, I don’t have a television at home, and if I saw it elsewhere, I wouldn’t have known what I was watching. But something you said has reminded me of something I’ve wanted to ask and I keep forgetting. Does this have anything to do with the fact that half the population around here wears clothing with embroidered red stockings on them?”

She laughed again, and rose from her seat to open her closet. She reached in and pulled out a navy blue zip-front sweatshirt that had the symbol Draco mentioned emblazoned across the left chest, with the lettering “Red Sox” below. “Like this?”

“Yes! That’s it!”

“This is the logo of the local professional baseball team. They’re called the ‘Boston Red Sox’ and just about everybody follows them rabidly around here,” she explained.

“Well, now I understand. It’s like wearing the colors of your favorite Quidditch team,” he concluded. “I’d wondered if it was some kind of club or fraternal organization.”

“Exactly right. We call ourselves ‘Red Sox Nation’ and there are members literally all over the world, so you weren’t too far off.”

Draco shook his head, thinking that fanaticism had reached a whole new level.

“Well, anyway, the boys want to play in the league for kids, and I need to get them some equipment, so if you’re sure you don’t mind…”

“Not a problem. Glad to help out.”

“Terrific. Thanks. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“This was easier,” he murmured under his breath.

“I heard that,” Dr. Kate twisted her lips into a smirk. “So, I was reviewing David’s case notes and he highlighted a couple of things that he thought would be productive for us to discuss. Did he mention that to you?”

“Yes, he did. He seems to think that we need to talk more about how I relate to Granger, how she seems to be such a constant in my head.”

“Correct. There are two specific incidents that I want to have you talk about. The first one was quite some time ago, but I think you’ll recall it. I know you’ve said that it was very rare that you intentionally masturbated to completion, but you told David about a time that happened at the very end of your time at the cottage in Surrey. To your best recollection, tell me what happened.” She had purposely avoided the young man’s eyes, suspecting how uncomfortable he was likely to be to speak about this. She knew in an instant that she was not wrong when a strangled sound escaped her patient’s throat. At that, she did look up.

“Draco? Are you all right?” she inquired.

“Uh, yeah, just, uh something caught in my throat,” he replied.

“Your heart or your tongue?” she wondered.

“Both. That’s why it sounded like I was choking,” he offered with a wry grin. At least his sense of sarcasm hadn’t suffered.

“Now that you’ve found your voice, tell me what happened.”

Draco breathed deeply, more to calm himself than to delay the inevitable. “You recall that I told you that I had been given an antidote to the potions I’d been taking for so many years?” Draco noted her nod of affirmation and continued. “Granger had been helping to figure out what was going on, and she had been so kind to me. We were working together, and figuring things out together. It was very companionable and satisfying. Well, after three days of trying, we finally figured out how to get the hot water working, and I offered to help her get a shower.” He noted Kate’s raised eyebrow and responded to it. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to help her get cleaned up. She thought about it and asked me to help her, but under very specific terms, to which I obviously agreed. I carried her to the bathroom, she undressed by herself, I put her into the shower, and then helped her back to the sofa after she’d finished.”

“So what happened that caused your sexual reaction?”

“She asked me to wait in the bathroom while she was actually in the shower because she was so weak, she feared she might fall. I saw her form through the shower curtain, and it really got to me,” he admitted.

“Why do you think you reacted that way?”

“I wish I knew for sure.”

“So you don’t know for sure, but what are the possibilities you’ve considered.”

“My body was finally free of the potions and spells, so I was probably reacting more like any normal bloke would. That was the first thing I considered. The second was that I was actually attracted to her in some way.”

“Anything else?”

“Not that comes to mind.”

“Is she an attractive young woman, in your opinion?”

“Yes, I guess so. She has these really expressive, big brown eyes, and when she was younger, her hair was this wild mess, but now it’s beautiful chestnut curls. She has a very lovely shape; even when I was a schoolboy, I couldn’t deny that. It used to drive me nuts that someone of such so-called inferior blood could attract my attention that way.”

“What else did you think about her when you were in school together?”

“She was always scary smart. Up until the middle of fifth year, we were always vying for the number one and two spots in academic ranking. That used to make me crazy, too. How could she be so good at magic if she was a Mud, uh sorry, Muggleborn? It never made sense to me.”

“How did you treat her in school?”

“I was a right terror. Used to tease her ceaselessly and mercilessly. Called her names, made her trip in the halls, that kind of thing.”

“You do realize that what you’re describing are the classic things that all adolescent boys do to a girl they’re actually interested in, don’t you?”

“I’ve heard that somewhere before, but I didn’t really think it applied in this case.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I, uh, can’t really say, I guess. I just never looked at it that way.”

“Teenage boys typically don’t understand what they’re feeling, and don’t know how to deal with that. So they tease and annoy as a way to get attention that they don’t know how to obtain otherwise.”

“But I tried to kill her,” he blurted out.

“Yes, you did. Three times, if I read David’s notes correctly.”

He swallowed heavily. “Yes.”

“And weren’t all three times after you’d begun to consume the potion and been under the spell influence?”

“Yes. It was.”

“And why do you think she was a target?”

“Because she was Potter’s best friend.”

“Is that the only reason? Is it possible that you inadvertently made her more of a target because of your latent interest in her?”

“Oh, Merlin, I never even considered that. If that’s true, then everything that happened to her really was my fault,” he concluded, despairingly.

“No, Draco, that’s not true, and it’s not the point. You were manipulated into harming her because someone saw your interest in her. That was the fault of the person who made and gave you the potions and placed you under the spells. You may feel remorse because of it, but you shouldn’t shoulder the burden of responsibility. That belongs to whoever manipulated you.”

“I’ve heard that before, Doc, and I’m not quite ready to embrace it.”

“Someday you will be. In the meantime, though, tell me about what happened a couple of days ago, starting with what you saw at work.”

“I saw a woman who reminded me of her and it rattled me. I couldn’t get her out of my head all day, and then when I went home, I hopped in the shower. I was thinking about what had happened, and how much Granger was just… in my head. Before I knew it, I was, um, aroused.”

“Then what?”

“I turned on the cold water.”

“Why didn’t you masturbate? No editing - what was going through your head at the time?”

“That I couldn’t do that to her. Reduce her to an object of lust. It would be wrong.”

“But she wasn’t there.”

“No, of course not.”

“So how would you have been using her?”

“I, uh…”

“Draco, why are you afraid to admit to yourself that you are frequently aroused by the thought and image of Miss Granger?”

“Because I’m afraid that I’ll hurt her again, and I’d rather kill myself than be responsible for harming her any more than I’ve already done,” he blurted out.

“Draco, first I want you to remember that the harm that you did to her was caused by someone else. Second, by not giving in to natural urges and needs, you are harming your own physical and mental health. Third, Miss Granger has been very clear about not holding you responsible for the harm that came to her, and was in fact quite kind and compassionate toward you. Do you think she would want you to suffer as you have?”

“But who says I’m suffering?”

“Aren’t you? You’re denying one of life’s most basic needs. That causes pain, depression, anxiety, sleeplessness, irritability, and can potentially cause physical problems on top of the psychosexual ones. All of that can easily add up to real suffering. I’ve asked you once before, but I’m going to ask it again: Are you punishing yourself for what you did by denying yourself this basic pleasure?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I am. It just doesn’t feel right to feel that release when nearly every time I’ve consciously done that was in the context of raping or killing someone,” he stated quietly.

“But that wasn’t your choice, was it?”

“No. It wasn’t.”

“Then it’s time that you start to rebuild your sexual health, Draco, or you’ll be handicapped by what someone forced you to do for a very long time. You were as much a victim as any of the people who were attacked through you. Finding your own forgiveness will be a first step in healing your own sexual trauma.”

“My sexual trauma? I don’t understand.”

“Draco, you’ve acknowledged that your body was used against your will, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“How is that any different from any victim of sexual assault or rape?”

“Because I was the one doing the attacking,” he reasoned.

“Would you have chosen to do that if you hadn’t been under the influence?”

“No. My mother taught me to respect women. Before I was fed the potion, I never so much as cajoled a girl into activity she didn’t want.”

“So what does that say about your sexual nature, or your sexual identity?”

“I, uh, guess that it’s not in my nature to be abusive or cruel.”

“That’s what you aren’t. What are your thoughts on who you are?”

“Who I want to be is someone who can be a respectful and responsible husband and lover.”

“And you aren’t there yet because…” she began, giving him silent encouragement to complete the thought.

“If I can’t get past my fear in even pleasuring myself, how can I hope to have any connection with a woman?”

“You said ‘fear’ in describing your feeling, Draco. You’ve never said that before. No editing – answer with the first thing that comes into your mind. What are you afraid of?”

“That I won’t find pleasure in anything but pain,” he stated, shame warring with angst in his tone.

“How will you know if you don’t try?”
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Consequences and Complexities