Heaven Through a Window • Drarry •

Chapter Two: Hallowe'en

Draco relaxed back into his seat in his consulting room and rubbed his eyes. Another clinic over. With a twirl of his wand, he sent the drafts of his letters up to Anne to correct. He held two general Healing Clinics a week and a specialist Mind Clinic every other Tuesday.

Contemplating lunch, he snapped his Healers Bag shut and almost collided with his mother in the corridor.

"Draco!"

"Is everything all right?"

She directed him back inside and stuffed a package into his hand. "I was just waiting for you to finish. Not one word until you've had your lunch."

He scowled but knew there'd be no use launching an appeal.

"That bad, is it?" He slumped back at his desk, yawned, and unwrapped the food. Coronation chicken vol-au-vents and a slice of wild mushroom galette. He sniffed it and said, "I really love you."

"I'll tell you once you've eaten."

He munched through the galette and said, "I wasn't expecting you today."

"I left shortly after you did, Joan wrote in sick." She smoothed her white and silver Volunteer Healer Assistant robes and observed him devour his lunch with a small smile.

After he gulped down the last vol-au-vent and finished the flask of elderflower cordial, he asked, "Well? What's the emergency? I presume nobody is dying, otherwise you wouldn't demand I stop to eat."

"Healer Clearwater put Potter to sleep. There's something you should know—"

"He's awake! Why was I not sent for?"

At that moment, Rutherford barged in.

"Oh! Malfoy. I thought you would have finished your clinic by now." He held up his pocket watch apologetically. "I'm afraid my first patient is in fifteen minutes and I—"

"Yes, yes, fine." Draco stood and vanished the crumbs. "We were just leaving."

They went up to his office on the seventh floor, past the portraits that murmured 'Hello' to them on the staircase. Anne, Rozz and Shawn waved from the drinks machine and Draco closed the office door behind them. He wasn't due anywhere until two.

"Tell me everything," he said.

Mother folded her arms and waited for Draco to sit before speaking. "Healer Clearwater charged me to keep an eye on Mr Potter. He woke up whilst I was sitting with him. He assumed I was his mother."

"What?"

"Then he asked if I was an angel."

Draco rested back, dumbfounded.

"He thought he'd died, there was some nonsense about Dumbledore. He expressed concern that his relatives would be angry with him and then asked me to be his mother when he was better."

"What did you do?"

"Tucked him in, of course. Checked for Dark creatures under the bed, like I used to do for you—don't look at me like that, you'll always be my baby boy—"

"Mother—!"

"Told him a bedtime story—the Fountain of Fair Fortune, one of your favourites—saw him off to sleep, and came to see you."

"Show me."

She ceased adjusting her hair in the looking glass above the chimneypiece and settled in the straight-backed visitor's chair.

"Legilimens," Draco muttered.

Potter, panicked and small, shrinking in fear, then relaxing in his mother's arms. The man grew about three inches when his mother called him 'sweetheart'. Potter's eyes shone in tears at the word 'hospital'. Draco saw the look of concern in Mother's eyes when she sat beside him, threading her fingers through his long hair lit by the candelabra on the bedside table...