Chapter One

Hermione stared at the door in front of her. She couldn't bring herself to open it, even though she knew she had to. She had been preparing herself for this for a week. What would she say? Would he be polite? Would he sneer at her, like she was nothing? No. He wouldn't, she told herself. He was a professional. He was highly recommended, for all ailments. Wizards and witches alike loved him, loved his work, paid the high price, and left beautiful reviews. Witch Weekly had wrote articles about his techniques… In the bedroom, and in the office, though she didn't care much for the review about the bedroom. The Daily Prophet had rated him five out of five stars, and said his prices were well worth the miracle. And she knew that was exactly what she needed at this point. A miracle.

Her eyes were always puffy, and red. Swollen from endless days and nights of crying. She hardly ate, she hardly slept, hardly went out of her flat, even if she didn't have any food in the house. She didn't mind though. She never ate anyways.

People were staring at her, as she stared at that bloody door. Five deep breaths, and ten reasons why she had to do this later, she gripped the door knob, and swung the door open.

Stepping inside, she was rather surprised. She had expected lavish, rich furnishings. Expensive art, diamond chandeliers, and a beautiful witch behind the reception counter. What she found instead, was a small cozy office. The reception desk sat to the back of the room, right near the door she dreaded entering. Instead of a beautiful woman though, there sat a young man. He wasn't someone women would swoon over, but the bloke looked nice enough. He turned his attention to the door where she had been standing for more than a minute she was sure. She wondered what he might think of her. A deranged woman, maybe? Or a pathetic little witch, who needed this miracle work more than any other patient?

Instead, he smiled at her.

"Miss Granger, I've been expecting you. Please come in."

She stared at him in shock, and glanced around the room again. It was empty, luckily. No one would see her here today, no articles would go up about her, and how she had gone mad. She hesitantly took a few steps into the room, and the door lightly shut behind her. There was a piano in the corner of the room, playing itself. A quiet, soothing tune played from it. She glanced at it warily before turning back to the receptionist.

Walking briskly up to the desk, she cleared her throat.

"I… have an appointment. For eleven?" She spoke softly, even though there wasn't anyone else around. She was so afraid of being found out… She just couldn't handle it.

"Yes, Miss. Please press your wand right here." He put a piece of parchment in front of her, and she was surprised that when she pressed her wand to it, it filled out all the information in a blink of an eye. That was surprisingly brilliant, and quite convenient. When she glanced up at him again, he was filing it away.

"Please have a seat. Can I get you some tea, or water?" He asked, gesturing to a large refreshment table behind the desk.

"No… No thank you." She stuttered, turning to sit. The chair she sat on, enveloped her in comfort. So, maybe it didn't look like rich and lavish, but it certainly felt like it. Unfortunately, she couldn't relax and enjoy it. Turning her head to watch the clock, she tapped her fingers madly on her knee. It had only been fifteen seconds before the receptionist addressed her again.

"He's ready for you now." He said, picking up the file he had just made for her, and opening the door to the room she had imagined herself in for a week.

She walked briskly, but wavered again before entering. He gave her an encouraging smile, and motioned for her to continue. She did, though her legs were so shaky she was afraid she may fall over at any minute. The hallway before her, seemed so long she was sure she would faint before she could even make it to the end. The receptionist cleared his throat, and Hermione glanced back at him, her eyes terrified. Taking another three deep breaths, she began to advance on the door all the way at the end.

Before she could think any more, she was standing in front of it. The receptionist stepped around her, and knocked twice, before a muffled reply came. When he opened the door, Hermione thought she might just fall through a hole in the floor right there, and be okay with it.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Hermione Granger has arrived." The receptionist said, walking into the spacious room, and handing him the file.

When he looked up at her, his expression neutral, she could feel her heart stop for a second. This was madness! She may think she was insane, but this was beyond insanity! Here she stood, in the office of one of her greatest school enemies, and she was actually paying him to be here! She started to back away, but just before she could turn and run, he spoke.

"Miss Granger, won't you please come in and have a seat?" He looked at her pointedly, before waving the receptionist away.

Her whole body shaking now, she entered his office, her hand almost naturally going to her wand. She stopped herself from grabbing it, and gratefully sat on the couch across from him. He gave her a calculating look, and then opened the file, reading the parchment in front of him. When he looked back up at her, he looked startled.

"Miss Granger, I must say this isn't what I expected. When I saw your name on my appointment list, I was quite surprised indeed. I thought someone must have been mistaken, but apparently I was incorrect. And then… When Leon announced your arrival, once again I was surprised. But, since you are here, I find that I should have been more prepared." He cleared his throat, standing up from behind his desk, and walking around it, to sit in the chair in front of it.

She realized she hadn't spoken more than five words since arriving here… How long had she been here anyway? She glanced at the clock, and was shocked to see it had not been more than five minutes. It felt like an eternity to her. The world around her moved quickly, while she moved slowly. She wasn't sure of herself anymore. She couldn't work, she could barely handle to be around her friends, and she most certainly couldn't believe she was here.

"Miss Granger… Would you like to explain to me why you are here?" Malfoy asked her, breaking her out of her thoughts.

She stared at him for a moment, not sure why she was deciding to trust him… But ultimately she was. He was her last resort, her last hope… Her last thread to hang onto. She knew she was falling deeper into a hole. When she had decided to come here, she knew she had no other options. She had exhausted all other options, as had Harry and Ron. They had tried everything. Potions, training, meditating, muggle medicines, month long trips meant to relax her. Nothing had worked. And now, she was hoping, she was praying, he would be able to help her.

"You see Mr. Malfoy…. I know you've taken up therapy, and heard you were quite good at it. And I knew I just had to ask for your help… Because…" She went silent, taking a deep breath, and putting on her best brave face.

"Because I've lost my magic."

Two Years Earlier

Hermione, Harry, and Ron were sitting in the three broomsticks, watching the world move around them. The war was over… Had been for over four years. People had moved on, and no one liked to talk about it. The three of them had been celebrated all over the wizarding world, they had saved the world and all that jazz. People still insisted on buying their meals, their drinks, someone had even offered to pay off Ron's mortgage for him. Harry's office at the ministry was constantly being filled with packages, letters, candies, and pastries. The world loved Harry Potter. He did interviews for all the magazines and newspapers. He gave speeches at Hogwarts. He had even taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for a year. Hermione knew that had been Harry's favorite year. He loved to teach the young witches and wizards coming in. He loved it even more, because they all listened to him with rapt attention.

Ron stayed in the aurora office. His needs were most suited to finding, and fighting dark wizards. He had a bit of what the muggles called PTSD. The war had changed him, and he only was completely comfortable if he was doing what he did best. Even though, he did try to take time at least twice a week to meet up with his friends for dinner, or to see a Quidditch match.

Hermione worked for the ministry as well, in the Care of Magical Creatures department. She researched different species, kept an eye on the rarer animals living in the Forbidden Forest, checked on the dragons in Romania, and always followed through on the whisperings of a family treating their house elf badly. She had never been happier.

Though her and Ron had broken up shortly after the war had ended, they remained friends. She had dated other men throughout her years, and had thought she was becoming a bit serious with Oliver Wood. He hadn't been around much lately though, as he was touring the world with his quidditch team.

As the three of them stood up to say their goodbyes, Hermione stretched and yawned. As she walked out into the chilly air, she wrapped her cloak tighter around her body, before apparating to Diagon Alley. Walking briskly down the street, she made a turn to go down Knockturn Alley. The potions store there was where she was headed, but unfortunately she never made it.

Down a dark alley to her right, sprang out a young witch, her eyes bright and crazy.

"It's you!" She crowed, stepping right into Hermione's path. "I've been waiting to catch you out here all alone. Waiting to get my revenge for a very long time." She gripped Hermione's arm, her eyes like flames. "Fenrir Greyback was my father you know. The only person I had, after my mother gave birth to me… a monster!" She backed Hermione up to the brick wall of an old building, its inhabitants left long ago.

Hermione tried to swallow her fear, and tried wildly to grasp her wand in her robes, but the girl caught on and grabbed ahold of her wrists, pinning them.

"You think your magic will save you Hermione Granger? Well it won't, because your filthy blood doesn't deserve magic. You don't deserve to wield the power. Your stupid little boyfriend may have killed my father and think he won, but he is going to feel this loss." The witch pressed her wand against Hermione's temple, and started chanting, when all of a sudden they were interrupted.

"Hermione!" Someone was hollering, while the young witch was thrown away from her. Bright lights washed over her face, as she sank to the ground, shaking and wide eyed. The last thing she remembered from the night, was Harry's concerned green eyes looking into hers.

Present Day

Draco stared at Hermione after they watched her memory in the pensieve. It was more terrible than he could have imagined. He knew she had been through a lot, and that was why this was even worse. It had been years since the war, and all of a sudden some strange witch had once again put Hermione in an impossible situation. Draco couldn't help but wonder if Hermione was really the one who suffered from PTSD. After what she had endured with Bellatrix, the taunting from the rest of the Death Eaters, hell even himself, it was more than likely.

Hermione couldn't stand any longer. Her knees were knocking, her legs were shaking so badly. She sat down in the chair and tried to slow her breathing. Malfoy slowly took the seat across from her, and picked up his quill. Scratching something into a fresh piece of parchment, he looked up at her, his eyes speculating.

"What are you feeling right now, Ms. Granger? After living that day over, how does it affect your emotions?" He asked, his quill perched and ready.

"I feel…" She stopped, to take in a deep reassuring breath. "I'm afraid. Looking at it again.. living it over. It's awful. She came out of nowhere… and it was even worse because I let her catch me off guard. For years I took that evening walk, instead of just apparating to my flat, because it was always so pretty out, and the clear air helped my head. Knockturn alley was dangerous during the war, but afterwards it felt like nothing could touch me. Not there, not anywhere. And then they caught me off guard. And I was so weak!" She was sobbing now, opening up to one of her oldest enemies.

"What makes you think you were weak, Hermione?" Malfoy asked her, his quill scratching away lazily.

"You watched it, Draco! I couldn't even pull my wand! Four years, and I became lazy, too trusting! Too normal! I flailed around, like I hadn't defeated Voldemort and the Death Eaters! Like I, Hermione Granger was some scared little girl! And you know whats even worse? Now I am! I am that scared little girl! Because I have no magic to save me now Draco!" She was practically screaming at this point.

Draco dropped the quill, and parchment floated away into her file. Hermione stared at the floor in embarrassment. What was she doing here? She just knew somehow, tomorrow her face would be covering The Daily Prophet.

"Our generations greatest witch, gone mad!"

But Draco simply gave her a bored smile.

"That was very good Hermione. You said a lot today. Whatever you're feeling, at any moment in time, I want you to write it down. Strong emotions. If you go to eat, but your appetite loses you, write down what you're feeling. When you can't sleep, write your feelings. I want to get insight into your mind, your feelings. I want to know what you think about when you look in the mirror. And next week, we start the real assignment." He said, handing her a small blue journal from one of his desk drawers.

She stared down at it, in disbelief, then looked back at him.

"You want to have another appointment?" She asked, flabbergasted.

"Oh yes Ms. Granger. We have a lot to do here, and its best to get started right away." He held his hand out, and she shook it warily. "Have a good day, Ms. Granger."

She turned around and walked out the door, hearing it shut quietly behind her. Then she stopped, her mind working a thousand miles a minute, and somehow, she felt lighter. She felt like she had just freed part of her sorrow. And then, she walked out into the sun, for once enjoying being outside again.