Written by Frayach on ao3
It's a Mind Healer's worse nightmare to lose a patient to suicide, but Mind Healer Nick Nichols can attest to the fact that it can be even worse. If only Dr. Freud had come up with a sure cure for love.
• • •
"𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕧𝕖 �...
I can barely hear the scratching over the sound of Eileen's 'Ocean Waves Sweet Dreams' spell. For a while I think it's part of a dream, but as I slowly rise to the surface of consciousness, I realise it's an owl at my window. I get up and pull on my robe. The moon is so bright I don't need to cast a Lumos to see my way.
It's a tiny owl, and I recognise it immediately as the one Draco had used at the pub earlier. I open the window and let it in. It's carrying a piece of parchment in its beak. It drops it in my hand and flies off. I open the note as quickly as possible.
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Harry must not have taken him up on his invitation to share the night.
I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Who knows how long the little owl had been scratching at the window? I may only have a few minutes! I get dressed in jeans and a jumper, not bothering with my customary shirt and tie. I go downstairs as quietly as I can so as not to wake any of the kids and once there, I step into the fireplace.
Our building's fireplace is in the basement (bloody stupid idea!), and my office is on the 12th floor. I run up the stairs as quickly as I can, taking the steps two at a time. Once I'm on the right floor, I trot to my office, panting for breath.
He's sitting on the floor leaning against the door with his head tilted back and his throat exposed. He lifts his head when he hears me. I gasp. His eyes are completely utterly dead.
"I thought you weren't coming," he says in a monotone.
I stammer about ocean waves and miniature owls and light-sleeping children, but he doesn't seem to be listening. He covers his face with his hands and tilts his head back again.
"Draco," I say softly. "I need to open the door."
He stands without speaking, and I turn my key in the lock. As soon as we're inside, he drops into his usual chair and lights a cigarette with shaking hands. I Transfigure my Buddha into an ashtray. He laughs weakly.
"I've got you trained."
"I prefer to think that I'm not so much trained as you are predictable."
He laughs again. I figure that can't be a bad thing.
"I'm sorry I got you out of bed."
"No need to apologise."
We're silent for a long time.
"Your wife is lovely. I wonder what it'd be like to share a home and a bed and a life with someone you actually like," he says. "It must be nice."
I nod. "It is. I think it's one of life's great blessings."
He swallows hard and looks toward the window.
"Draco," I say gently. "Why are we here?"
He turns back to me and takes a deep long drag on his cigarette.
