The Healer- A Draco Malfoy Fanfiction

Chapter 19[Backstory; no Draco]

[pictured: Erica's family home in London]

I nervously tapped my suitcase, waiting in the lobby of the train station. The reek of muggles was all around. I had changed out of my robes on the train, and was now in a sweater and jeans that allowed me to blend in with all the other people at the London station. My stomach was wracked with nerves. I didn't think I would be missing the castle quite this soon.

Will I be able to recognize my father as soon as I see him? My eyes darted about, landing on every man that passed by me. But I had a feeling I would know him as soon as I saw him.

After about ten minutes, I spotted my mother emerging from the crowd in her wool coat and pencil skirt. Her dark brown hair was up in a librarian-esque bun. I smiled, grabbing my luggage and coming to her for a hug.

"Erica," she greeted me joyfully.

I hugged her tightly. "Hi mum."

She pulled away, scanning me from head to toe. "You seem different." In her typical analytical manner, she was able to pick up on the slightest changes, whether they be mental or physical. I blushed, unwilling to give details in such a public space. "A lot has happened, I suppose."

"I want to hear about it all," she spouted. "But first, there's someone you should meet." She looked behind her, waving at someone to come forward.

My body locked up when I saw him. A man with brown hair shaved close to his scalp walked towards us. Something was off about his gait, and when I looked at his legs I noticed he was favoring his left. His stern face was etched not with age, but experience; lines that I recognized as scars were found all over his forehead, nose and chin. He looked at me, and in his eyes I saw my own greenish-brown irises.

A shiver ran down my spine. The child inside of me longed to weep; for he was just as I imagined, just a little more damaged than expected. He was really here, before me.

My father.

"Erica," he rasped, a smile spreading across his face. "It's wonderful to finally meet you."

I didn't hug him. I stayed put, keeping my burgeoning questions at bay. I muttered, "It's nice to meet you, too... erm..."

"Xavier," he said to me. "Xavier Sloan."

My mother nodded, standing beside us observing our awkward meeting. A tentative smile came to her face. "How about we get to the car? We can all get to know each other over a cup of tea."

Xavier-my father- thought that was a good idea. I trailed behind them with my luggage, and observed in surprise as my mother linked her arm in his. I pretended that I wasn't listening, but I heard her whisper in his ear, "She didn't swear at you. That's a good sign."

----

I found it hard to conceal my surprise at how effortlessly my mother and Xavier behaved around each other. She brought him tea, kissed him on his shaved head, and settled onto the couch in our living room right beside him. I sat in an armchair on the opposite side of the room, still skeptical of the man that had been mysteriously absent for fifteen years with no explanation. I wanted to yell at my mother, 'how can you just accept him again? After all this time? After he left us alone?'. It was unnatural. Disturbing, almost. Especially because his scars and limp were concerning factors. I began to suspect that he was a wizard convict that probably spent the past years in Azkaban. Perhaps he had imperio'd my mother, or given her some kind of love potion.

Because I had never seen her this happy.

Conversation started slowly. For a while, the only sounds in the townhouse were from the busy London traffic outside the window.