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“And here we go, life’s waiting to begin...” -Angels and Airwaves “The Adventure”

“Mr. Malfoy,” Doctor Thompson replied.  “I have something important to tell you.”
Draco shook his head and turned back to look at his psychologist.  “Yes, Doctor?”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you,” Dr. Thompson continued.
Draco studied his doctor with a worried face.  Though she was indeed just his doctor, he had been seeing her for the past three years and had come to make somewhat of a friendship with her.  She was an older witch, around her late sixties, very tall and skinny with a shock of gray hair and sparkling green eyes.  He had a feeling that had she been years younger, he would’ve definitely been friends with her.  If circumstances had been different of course...
“Mr. Malfoy,” Dr. Thompson looked at him inquiringly.  “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, of course, Doctor,” Draco smiled at her.  Unfortunately, since she had known him for so long and since she was old enough to be his grandmother, the charming grin that usually had women melting had absolutely no effect on her.
“I’m leaving town,” she replied.
Draco looked at her in shock. “On holiday, surely.”
“No, Mr. Malfoy,” Dr. Thompson shook her head and smiled wistfully.  “My husband is very ill.  The healers in St. Mungo’s told me that he needs to get out of the cold England climate.”
“I’m so sorry about your husband, Dr. Thompson,” Draco said sympathetically.
“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” Dr. Thompson held one of his hands in between hers and squeezed it.
“So then,” Draco cleared his throat.  “Where does that leave me?”
“Well,” Dr. Thompson sighed.  “I’m very sad to lose you as a patient, Draco.  You’re one of my favorites.”
Draco felt himself swell with pride.  Of course he was one of her favorites.  He was one of everyone’s favorites.  Outwardly, he simply remained calm and smiled gratefully.  “I’ll be sorry to not see you anymore either, Dr. Thompson.  Where are you and your husband going to go?”
“We have a villa purchased in Southern Italy,” Dr. Thompson replied.  “Between you and me, I’m excited for the change of scenery and a long retirement.  My Italian is excellent.”
“I’m sure you’ll fit in perfectly then,” Draco smiled. 
“About your next doctor though, Draco,” Dr. Thompson put her hands together.  “Although your progress from when we first started has been wonderful, I still think you would benefit from weekly treatments.”
Draco shrugged.  “That would probably be a good idea.  Always good to be able to talk about things.”
“And given your family history,” Dr. Thompson agreed.  “I can’t imagine that you all talk a lot.”
“Not about what I talk about with you, no,” Draco shook his head.  “A shame really.  I find it nice to get things off my chest.”
Dr. Thompson nodded.  “Yes, well.  I’ve set up an appointment at this time next week with Dr. Granger.  Although young, I assure you, a very, very good doctor.  I’m sure she’ll be happy to keep your treatments going.  What a fine, young man you are.”
Draco smiled but it did not reach his eyes.  Did doctor Granger mean the Granger that he was thinking about?  As in, Hermione Granger?  The Mudblood?  There was no way in Hell that he would ever talk to Hermione Granger about his inner thoughts and struggles.  He would rather shoot himself than talk to her.  But perhaps, Granger was a common name.  Perhaps he would go into the appointment next week as a favor for Dr. Thompson and just see who it was.  If it was the Mudblood, then there was no reason to continue.  He was perfectly capable of finding another doctor.
“Thank you so much, Dr. Thompson,” Draco smiled at her.  “That was sweet of you to hook me up with another doctor.”
“It was nothing that I wouldn’t do for any of my other patients, Mr. Malfoy,” Dr. Thompson smiled.  “Now, is there anything else you’d like to talk about before you leave?  We still technically have ten minutes.”
Draco looked at his watch.  “No, thank you.  I actually have some business to attend to.”
“Very well then, Mr. Malfoy,” Dr. Thompson replied, standing up.  “Good luck in life.  I’m sure you will be very successful.”
“I wish you the best of luck, Dr. Thompson,” Draco held out his hand instead to find his doctor hugging him and kissing him enthusiastically on the cheeks.
“Goodbye, Draco,” Dr. Thompson stepped back.
“Good luck, Dr. Thompson,” Draco smiled.  “When do you move?”
“Next Monday,” Dr. Thompson replied.
Draco shrugged and gave her a mysterious smile.  “Who knows.  I might drop by.”
And with that, Draco headed out the door.


After Draco Malfoy left, Dr. Beatrice Thompson sat back down at her desk and smiled.  He was such a sweet, kind, charming, and handsome young man; perfect for her old student, Hermione Granger. 
Beatrice thought back to how brilliant and talented Hermione Granger had been when she had been nineteen and interested in becoming a psychologist not only for wizards but for Muggles too.  In Beatrice’s opinion, Muggles needed more doctors like Hermione Granger who was patient, smart, and sweet.
Unfortunately, Beatrice worried about Hermione.  She had not had a boyfriend for over two years, and she seriously thought that Hermione of all people deserved a man to spoil and court her.  When she had found out that her dear husband, Harold, needed to leave England to get well again, she had hatched a brilliant plan.
Draco Malfoy had many emotional issues that he needed to deal with so there was still an excuse to keep him in therapy.  Hermione Granger was a talented young doctor who needed more regular patients like Draco Malfoy.  The two of them were good-looking, lonely young people who needed a significant other in their lives. 
A knock on the door interrupted Beatrice’s thoughts.  It was her next appointment.  But all the same, the plan was perfect.  Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger would fall for each other and they would thank her later.


As Draco headed out of the building into the pouring rain of a cold and dreary January day, he decided he would get Dr. Thompson an ever-lasting blue roseplant and a thank you card.  It was the least he could do after everything she had helped him through.
He Disapparated to a nearby florist and purchased a card and a pretty blue rose plant.  The blue rose plant was a specialty of the wizarding world.  A plant that came in all shades of blue, it bloomed for years before finally dying, unlike Muggle roses that only lasted for two weeks or so. 
An hour later, Draco finished running errands in Diagon Alley and decided to stop back at Dr. Thompson’s office.  Unfortunately, when he arrived, she was in an appointment so Draco had to leave his gifts with his receptionist. 
Heading back out into the cold, Draco immediately Disapparated to his manor house about ten kilometers from his parents’ house.  It really was a beautiful place with a round drive, surrounding a single cherry tree and garden.  Inside his house that dated back to the Victorian ages, Draco had three floors of empty space all to himself.  Though it got lonely at times, he often had his parents and other guests over for dinner.  He wouldn’t have owned the house if he hadn’t been elected Minister of Magic five years back, but since he was, he figured that he deserved it.  Besides, he kept telling himself that one day he would start a family and then he and his wife would have ample space to raise a family. 
Collapsing in the sitting room, his house elves, Rosie and Pinky came tottering in.  “Good day, Master,” the elves said in unison.
“Hi,” he closed his eyes.
“What would Master like?” Pinky asked.  “Tea?  Biscuits?”
“The two would be great,” Draco looked over at them and the elves scampered out of the room to do his bidding.
It would have been a lie to say that he didnt have any company because he did.  Then again, it was in the form of house elves and a gardener who came twice a week.  He didn’t need that many staff because Pinky and Rosie were more than capable of picking up after only one person.
Draco sighed again as Rosie and Pinky came back carrying a tray of tea and Draco’s favorite cranberry biscuits.  “Thank you,” Draco nodded to his house elves who ran off again, leaving him once again, alone.

Meanwhile, across town, Dr. Hermione Granger Apparated into her flat outside London.  It was small but rather cozy and nice for only one person.  It consisted of only five rooms; a kitchen and dining area, a sitting room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small entrance hall.  Hermione lived completely alone besides her new cat, a beautiful tortiseshell that Hermione simply called “Shell.”  At her entrance, Shell ran up to her, meowing in greeting, weaving her body through Hermione’s legs.
“Hey, Honey,” Hermione walked into the kitchen and put down the bags of groceries she had been carrying then headed over to feed her cat who ate gratefully.
Turning back to the counter, Hermione magicked her groceries away and then turned back to the stove to try and figure out what to make for dinner, thinking all the while about work.
As a newly licensed psychologist only a year before, Hermione thought she was doing pretty well.  She was now working ten to twenty hours a week but it for sure wasn’t full time.  It gave her ample time to think about what was lacking in her life, including enough money to completely ensure the flat to her (Harry was generously still paying a quarter of the rent which was less than he had been when Hermione first started, but still too much in Hermione’s mind.  The last thing she wanted to do was rely too heavily on her friends who had enough of their own problems) and her very lacking love life.
She sighed.  Since she had broken up with Christopher Wellington the third, she had not gone out with another man since.  She was sick and tired of rich Muggle men who were snobby and whom she could never tell that she not only treated Muggles but wizards as well, the location of her practice being conveniently located right next to Diagon Alley.  She had broken up with Ron before then because it had turned out that he did not love her the way she had loved him, instead marrying Chica Montego, a girl that worked at Hogwarts with him.  Ron was currently the Transfiguration teacher alongside Harry who had won the job of Hogwarts Headmaster. 
Suddenly, an owl tapped her beak on the window and Shell let out an uproar.  Her cat had never liked owls which was precisely the reason that Hermione didn’t currently keep one. 
“Shell, stop it,” Hermione opened up the window and allowed the familiar owl to hop onto her shoulder to stay away from her cat.
Unfolding the letter, Hermione began to read:

Dearest Hermione-
As you know, Harold and I have to leave England to benefit his health and therefore I am quitting my business.  Though I know you would tell me that it was far too generous of me, I have sent all my current patients still in need of therapy, over to your office.  (Expect a lot of calls in the coming weeks as they schedule appointments).  In particular, I have recommended the young Minister of Magic to your office as he is still dealing with some past emotional trauma.  Such a nice and sweet young man, I’m sure you’ll get along fantastically. 
Anyway, I expect you to keep in touch.  Once we arrive in Italy, I’ll owl you to see how you are keeping up with all this new business.  Wishing you the best of luck.  Love your teacher, Dr. Beatrice Thompson.


Hermione stared at the letter in awe as the owl swooped out of the window.  Dr. Beatrice Thompson, one of the best and recognized psychologists in the wizarding world, had just sent her over all of her one hundred and sixty five patients.  Hermione would never again have to worry about keeping up her flat.  It would be amazing having that much business.  All she worried about was keeping up with it. 
But she would, she told herself.  She would because she needed this and deserved it.
Not only that but she got the Minister of Magic as well?  She would be famous.  If she worked well with the Minister and the public heard about it, everyone would come and see her.  It was like the sun was breaking up the clouds.
And then, she looked down at the Daily Prophet’s front page:
Minister of Magic Proposes New Magical Creatures Bill

Underneath the heading was a picture of Draco Malfoy, the Minister of Magic, smiling smugly up at her.  Hermione shook her head.  Could he ever look anything other than smug or was it ingrained in his body?
A huge wave of anxiety crashed over her.
Draco Malfoy was one of her new patients?
Merlin, help her.

A/N:  Hey all-
Sorry for the short chapter.  I didn't have that much time so I turned it into a prologue.  The next chapter will be longer, I promise.  I just wanted to set the stage.  Enjoy and I'll write soon!

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