Lost: Dramione Story

Chapter 8: Appointments

"why do you have to go to London?" Ginny drawled as we walked through Hogsmead the day before the holidays.

"I have some appointments and some more shopping to do" I lied, kind of. Half of it was true.

"you, shopping?" Ginny looked suspicious, but then she smiled "okay, but you'll be home for dinner?"

"supper, hopefully" I chuckled. "I want to grab a card for your Mum and Dad, meet you back here in a second?"

"I'll be in Honeydukes" she ran through the snow, that was now three feet deep in some places. Her red hair weaved in and out of the crowds until it disappeared. I smiled watching her go. It was nice to see her smile after everything that had happened. This Christmas was by no means going to be easy, but at least she was looking forward to it. I knew Harry was too. I thought maybe Ron had grown sick of him missing her as he had begun to write more and more in his letters about his missing her. I walked into the Hogsmeade Owlery.

"collecting for Penelope Clearwater" I cleared my throat. The young man smiled brightly grabbing the letter from the wall.

"anything else"

"two Christmas cards please" he handed me the cards. One had a live snowball fight on the front, the other, a snowy Qudditch match. I ignored the Daily Prophet stand beside the counter. Skeeter had had a field day after the Ron and Malfoy incident. McGonagall had since written to Kingsleigh asking him to put a ban on reporting on student affairs at Hogwarts. Thank Merlin for that.  

"merry Christmas" the man smiled. I returned it, ducking back out into the white snowfall. My appointment with Professor Emilee Sochrof was confirmed.

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I had forgotten how busy London could be, especially on the day before Christmas Eve. Shoppers were busy bustling about with bags and bags of presents. The last time I had been here was when we had had a near escape from the death eaters at Bill and Fleur's wedding. It wasn't exactly an enjoyable trip. I had dressed older. As old as I could make myself look. My hair was tied tightly in a bun at the nape of my neck and the shoes were killing me. I had chosen a suit in deep marron. I looked just like my mother I thought that morning leaving the platform at Kings Cross. My heat fell, my second Christmas without them. I stopped myself from wondering where they were now. I couldn't so that to myself. Not today. I walked quickly towards the dishevelled exterior of Purge and Dowse Ltd. An old muggle shopping centre now "under refurbishment" as the sign read. I stepped through the class and into the reception of St. Mungo's which was delightfully decorated for the Christmas season. Lights, trees and holly in every nook and cranny. The goblin at the front desk directed me up a flight of stairs and to the left. I thought of Neville as I passed the ward where his parents lived. I made a note in my head to send him a card once I got back to the Burrow. Christmas was never easy for him. "Penelope Clearwater?" a nurse called from up the corridor. I raised my hand walking towards him. "The professor will be with in you in a few moments".

"Thank you", I sat opposite the office door. Absentmindedly tapping my heels against the marble floor. The office door opened, but I wasn't met by a doctor of any sort, it was Malfoy, he wore a similarly confused expression as I did.

"I'll see you in a few weeks Mr. Malfoy". Draco turned and shook the professors' hand. "Ms. Clearwater, ah or should I say Ms. Granger". I dropped my head as I passed Malfoy and walked into the office. The professor closed the door. "what can I do for you?". I took me a moment to answer her, as all I could think about was; why on earth was Malfoy in St. Mungo's?

"Ms. Granger?" she asked again directing me to a seat across from her desk. Her office was covered in medical charts and awards and achievements.

"I'm apologise for the name" I was so embarrassed "but the Daily Prophet have been less than kind and I'd prefer to stay as far away from its pages as possible"

"I understand, what can I do for you?"

"I understand you're muggle born"

"I am, like you I realise". She had the most beautiful deep brown skin and her hair was almost to the floor. Her smile bright and friendly, I guessed was to combat the horrors she saw from time to time.

"yes" I took a breath "I'm sure you know my story, well, most of it. It's not pretty and there's parts of it that the rest of the world know nothing of and that's how I would like it to remain" my hands started to shake. "I fear that a certain incident that happened before the battle of Hogwarts has caused me to suffer from something that would be considered a muggle diagnosis and I can find nothing on it in the wizarding translation"

"and what would that be?"

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD"