Time Heals (D.M. - COMPLETE)

Time Heals // Chapter One

The office is flooded with natural light, courtesy of the large windows taking over one side of the room. Plants cover multiple surfaces and from his limited knowledge of Herbology, Draco notes a few with interest – peace lily, climbing ivy. Framed degrees litter the wall behind the mahogany desk. Draco counts them as he takes a seat on the maroon Chesterfield couch.

Dr. Francesca Jenkins greeted him warmly upon his arrival; shaking his hand without an inch of fear or pre-judgement. She had worked as a therapist for almost thirty years before his case was dropped in her lap; Draco felt comfortable in her presence, as if he could make progress with her.

"Thank you for making the time to fit me in, Dr. Jenkins. I understand that you're very busy." Draco politely says; she came highly recommended and must have made some sacrifices to fit him in to her schedule.

"Of course, you're very welcome, Draco. Is Draco okay or would you prefer something else?"

"Draco is fine."

"That's great," Dr. Jenkins smiles, sitting down on the matching armchair across from him. A pad and pen ready for her to take notes.

"I've never spoken to anyone about this," Draco confesses, picking at an invisible thread on his black tailored trousers.

"Everything you tell me is confidential; whatever said in these four walls remains here." Dr. Jenkins reminds him.

He nods, understanding it all, "I don't know where to start, if I'm being honest."

"Why did you come here? What are your reasons for seeking help? I've been made aware of your involvement within the Second Wizarding War."

"To start getting better. I want to be better; I can't sleep – every time I close my eyes I'm back there hearing screams and cries. I want to be a better man, I've been a little shit for most of my life, if you'll excuse my French."

"Let's start there."

"Where?"

"The beginning – why were you a 'little shit' for want of a better phrase? We will cover the events of the Second Wizarding War, but I want to get an understanding of you before."

"Because I could be."

"Tell me more."

And there's something so trustworthy about the expression on Dr. Jenkins face that Draco begins to open up, begins to tell her everything he's kept tucked away for so long, it's a torrent of pain and heartbreak:

"My family are part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. These are twenty-eight families that by the 1930s were classed as remaining truly pure blood. Pure blood refers to our status in that in our lineage, we have little to no non-magical blood. The Malfoy family are conservative and old-fashioned in their views, so I was raised in an environment that was very prejudiced against those with different upbringings.

My mother is a wonderful woman and she would do anything for me. But I've only started to see this side of her since the war. Before that, she was quiet as if too worried to speak her mind or show any hint of affection. On the rare occasions that my father was away for an extended period of time, we would walk the grounds of the house and she would tuck me into bed with a kiss on the forehead and a whisper of sweet dreams. But it never lasted long.

My relationship with my father is strained to say the least. He had a reputation, you see, and as their only child and their only son. The only Malfoy heir – it was on my shoulders that the reputation would fall. I don't think he has ever told me he loved me. I don't feel worthy to take on the Malfoy name because he has never once let me know that I'm good enough. My memories of him are few and far between, but enough happened for me to never forget them. If I wasn't good enough, if I didn't present myself perfectly... I don't like to think of what my father did.