On The Couch | DRARRY

Chapter 12

It's a special kind of humiliation to be kicked out of one's own office - even if the person who did the metaphorical kicking is one of the most important powerful wizards in the world. I look at my watch. The note from Draco said he would be here in fifteen minutes. I did not ask, and he did not say, whether he'd seen The Prophet.

Harry suggested that perhaps I'd like to be home in the bosom of my family. I took the not-so-subtle hint and left.

And now my curiosity will not leave me in peaceful resignation. As always Eileen is right. I really am more of a detective than a Mind Healer.

Any wizard worth his salt has a secret door in their study. Since my office is essentially my study away from home, I created the smallest means for entry and egress that I possibly could between my two bookshelves. I feel a tad dirty and more than a tad unprofessional, but neither is sufficient to keep me from Disillusioning myself and slipping into my office. I even go to my desk and sit down. I try to convince myself I'm there to keep any kind of confrontation from getting out of hand (which is partly true), but in reality I'm just plain nosey. I try not to think of my beloved mentor and what she'd say.

Draco has not yet arrived, and Harry is standing by the window, looking out, most likely, on the smouldering remains of the Prophet's offices. I don't know him well enough to know if he's experiencing guilt, but he does drop his face into his hand and closes the blinds rather forcefully.

It's at that moment that Draco appears with a pop.

There's a copy of this morning's paper in his hand.

He looks around, no doubt expecting me, and sees Harry.

They stand looking at each other for what feels like an eternity.

"So, you're going to marry her."

Draco's voice sounds half-dead and half-dangerous.

"And you got your wife pregnant. What'd you do, Draco? Think of me while you fucked her?"

Harry's voice isn't any less dead and dangerous.

"I didn't know."

"Well, perhaps I should explain the birds and the bees to you. A man loves a woman very very much and puts his penis in her vagina and moves it in and out . . ."

"Shut up, Potter!"

Harry smirks. "I love it when you call me 'Potter.' It reminds me why I used to hate your guts."

Draco's eyes narrow into slits. "You've got a lot of nerve giving me shit when you're going to married the Weasley cow and move your own fucking penis in and out of her vagina until you have a warren full of brats running around with ginger hair and glasses."

Harry draws his wand, and I instinctively cringe. Here goes my office is all I can think at first. Then I think about blood and nearly faint.

Draco draws his wand as well.

"I should've known," Harry says, his voice rough and low, "that you'd never leave her. What do you expect me to do? Live like a celibate and pine away for you for the rest of my life?"

"No . . ."

"Then what, Draco? What is it that you wanted me to do? Wank myself dry over photographs of you in the paper, walking around with a gentile hand at the base of her spine. Now that's she pregnant, I'm particularly looking forward to photos of you two bloody beaming your faces off. I wanted a life, Draco. And I wanted it with you."

Draco's wand arm is shaking so hard I can't imagine he'd even have the aim to hit a troll.

"Ginny is kind to me. Her family is kind to me. No one fire calls me at two in the morning and begs me to meet him at such-and-such inn or in some bloody alley somewhere."