Whatever You Want, Draco Malfoy || Drarry

Chapter Eight

St Mungo's was unnervingly quiet when Draco arrived. He ignored the welcome witch's curious look and headed down the hallway towards the Mind Healers wing. The receptionist's desk was empty, but someone had found a silver desk bell and taped, 'Ring for Service!' below it.

Draco tapped the bell; it chimed loudly in the empty room. Draco vanished his empty coffee cup as he waited. A few seconds later, Iris hurried down the hallway, waving when she spotted Draco.

"You're here! You're the last one to arrive," Iris said, waving for him to follow her.

Draco hurried after her, "Oh. I, uh-"

"You're not late. Everyone else just go here before you," Iris said. She had a quick tip-tap pace, taking almost two steps for every one of Draco's and still somehow keeping ahead of him. "Our meeting room is this way, in one of the smaller offices."

Draco paused as they passed an open door. Inside, a large group of people were sitting in a circle of chairs. One person was talking while the rest listened with various amounts of interest.

One of the group participants saw Draco staring, frowned and got up, shutting the door in his face.

Draco flinched and hurried after Iris.

The smaller office at the end of the hall looked like it hadn't been used as an actual office for decades. An old desk had been pushed into a corner and was currently hosting an electric kettle and an old muggle drip coffee machine. The bottom of the glass carafe was stained with brown rings from some particularly stubborn coffee in the past.

A single stack of chairs graced the other corner, older metal-framed chairs with pea-green square cushions made of some sort of scratchy couch material straight from the seventies.

Five chairs had been set out in a loose circle. Iris sat in one, and Draco took the last one left.

"So this is it? I always thought group meetings had, y'know, a group?" The woman beside him said incredulously. Draco remembered her from the recovery ward where he had woken up after detoxing. He was pretty sure her name was Jasmine.

"I thought a smaller, more intimate group would be more beneficial for you four," Iris said.

"Ah, so we're the real fuckups, then," Jasmine said.

Iris smiled, "You might say that."

"Hey-!" Jasmine protested.

"Hmph," A large squat bloke sitting across from Draco huffed. He had short brown hair, only slightly longer than a buzzcut and had the sort of build that might trick you into thinking he was fat if it weren't for all the muscle layered underneath.

He reminded Draco vaguely of Goyle. They had the same build, the same posture. Draco thought he might even be a Quidditch beater just like Goyle had been; he had the same callouses on his hand Crabbe and Goyle had gotten from years of practice with a beater bat.

Sitting between Quidditch and Iris was another young man. He had loose, longish brown hair that hid half his face, looking to be of some sort of middle eastern descent. He crossed his ankles under his chair and crossed his arms tightly over his chest like he was trying desperately to disappear inside himself.

"So! Let's start things off with an introduction!" Iris said, "I'll start. I'm Iris. I've been a mind healer for several years now, and I am currently working on a masters psychology degree of the muggle sort."

Draco glanced around.

Jasmine was rolling her eyes, and Quidditch was staring sullenly at the floor. The other young man had tensed but otherwise remained completely still.