The Healer II- The Patient (Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

Chapter 3- The Master

I walked on the white carpet runner of the Chateau to the west wing, passing numerous closed doors without a single sign of life. I followed the faint smell of cigarette smoke to an impressive set of double doors.

"Hello?" I knocked lightly upon the door as I turned the handle. The stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke hit my nose as I entered the hazy, wood paneled study. The room was lit by golden wall lamps, but any bit of light seemed to get absorbed by the black rug and dark walls. And in the center of it all, was a man with his head on a desk who seemed to emanate darkness himself.

The first thing I noticed about the Master of the Chateau was his striking blonde hair. It appalled me- I tended to avoid people with this rare shade of hair, as it belonged to that boy I knew so long ago that made me feel hollow inside. The second thing I noticed was the finely made black suede coat that was perfectly tailored to fit the man's svelte but muscular frame. It looked like it cost more than my apartment's rent; and would most certainly be something that he would wear. But this couldn't possibly be him. There was no way; because that would mean that the child I just helped deliver was his-

It can't be him. The odds of that are impossible.

I stood before the man's desk, noticing the firewhiskey tumbler in his left hand, and his extinguished cigarette in the other. With every pounding heartbeat I became less certain that this was not the boy I left so many years ago.

Gathering my courage, I managed to make myself call him to attention.

"Excuse me."

The man slowly shifted at the sound of my voice. As he raised his head, dread grew within me. I wanted to tell him to stop, to not show me his face-

A face that was both familiar and new stared back at me.

The room was quiet as I tried to discern if I had tumbled into an illusion, or some sort of mirage. But I knew in my gut there was no doubt about it. The man behind the desk was Draco Malfoy, whose already mature features had become more defined and handsome with time. He looked back at me, his striking grey eyes gradually widening.

As we stared at each other, all at once, things he'd said came streaming back into my mind like an old movie I hadn't watched in a very long time.

"I was willing to hurt myself to get your attention."

"You're so pretty, baby."

"I want it to be you and me at the end of all of this."

"Let me die. Please, just let me die."

"I'll never forget you. Because you did make me happy."

The room was dark, and he seemed disoriented, but I knew he recognized me immediately just as I recognized him. All the difference 8 years made on his face... he wore them well. Stern lines had formed on his forehead and around his mouth where they had not been before, and even though he had a short, perfectly maintained haircut, unkempt facial hair dotted his jawline.

But his eyes- those grey, smoldering eyes- those remained the same.

Draco slowly blinked. Then, leisurely, he looked at the glass in his hand.

"I must have drunk myself into a stupor," he muttered, "If I'm hallucinating this much..."

I neatly folded my arms. "You're not hallucinating. You're drunk." At 7 in the morning, nonetheless. He must have been drinking all night.

Draco, who was indeed extremely drunk, dismissed me with a clumsy wave of the hand. "Leave me alone. I'm not in the mood to deal with some illusion, or boggart, or... whatever you are."