On The Couch | DRARRY

Chapter 6

I conjure a damp cloth to wipe my face. My heart is pounding uncomfortably. It has been for much of the day the closer I get to Draco's appointment. I take a couple of deep calming breaths. By the time Draco walks in, I feel in control, but only barely. Never would I have guessed his secret. Not in a million years.

"Good evening," I say as blandly as possible.

He doesn't answer. Instead he goes to the bookshelves and pulls out a random book.

"Fantastical Fantasies," he reads from the cover. "The Stubborn Power of Delusional Thinking."

He Transfigures it into an ashtray. He goes to the window and lights a cigarette. His back is to me as he looks out at the skyline and the setting sun beyond.

"Are many of your patients delusional, doc?"

"Some are."

"What are their delusions?"

He's offering me an opportunity. I seize it and run.

"Some people have delusions about being God or being rich and famous. Some even think they've returned from the dead or are being stalked by the Aurors. Some people think someone they're in love with loves them back."

He says nothing for what feels like forever.

"So you treat people who are deluded about love. How do you treat them?"

"I treat different people differently," I say. "Very often the person needs some kind of active intervention. I bring people who care about my patient together and have them talk gently and respectfully to him or her. If that has no effect, then there are spells . . ."

"You can spell someone to fall out of love?"

He turns from the window and walks slowly to his chair. He's dressed handsomely in a dark suit with a green tie. He sits and assumes his customary indolent posture. I notice the dark smudges under his eyes.

I shake my head. "There are no spells for unrequited love . . . or any kind of love for that matter. But there are spells to ease the pain and make life bearable."

He takes a long drag before stubbing out his cigarette. "Poor weak bastards," he says sounding both bored and contemptuous. "What they need is a swift kick in the arse." He laughs as if he's just told a joke.

I smile. "Being in love is a weakness?"

"Of course it is."

I notice his foot swinging restlessly. "That's one of the reasons pure-blood families arrange marriages for their children as soon as they're born. The thinking is that if children know they're not romantically 'available' from an early age, there's little chance they'll fall in love with someone . . . 'unsuitable'." He uses his fingers as quotation marks around the word to display his disdain for the whole concept.

"So you've known you were intended to wed your wife pretty much all your life."

"Yup."

"You don't think that's rather . . . unnatural? For example: what if a person does fall in love with someone who's so-called 'unsuitable'? What if the person's gay?"

He looks at me with disinterest. His eyes are even colder than usual.

"So, you figured that one out. Bravo, doc." He claps his hands lazily and without conviction.

I'm silent because I'm not sure what he means exactly.

"Yes, I'm gay. Does that surprise you?"

"Nothing my patients say ever surprises me. For one to be surprised, it's necessary to first have an opinion. My job is to have opinions about your mental health, not your personalities or habits or life circumstances."