Disclaimer: None of these characters (except Miss Berkeley and other secondary characters) belong to me. They are all the product of JKR's wonderful imagination, and it is my privilege to write stories for them. :)

A/N: This is my first published fiction, so reviews and suggestions are super appreciated! ~sneakyslytherin

Chapter One: First Session

The day had started out as just a regular, quiet Tuesday. Miss Hermione Granger left her flat at around 7:30am in order to catch the tube into inner-city London, avoiding rush-hour crowding. Technically, she didn't need to be at her office until 8:30, but Miss Granger liked to order a black coffee and croissant at her favourite little café so that she could people-watch for a while. The people-watching was fun in itself, as London's eccentric and exotic population usually provided an entertaining view. However, Hermione was watching for another reason, a reason that she didn't even want to admit to herself.

She'd think, That one looked like Professor Snape! just before the person turned around, making it clear through his nose-piercing and tattoo that he was not, in fact, her deceased professor. Then a couple would walk by; an older man, stooped and slightly worn looking, holding the hand of a shorter exuberant girl with mousy brown hair. Lupin and Tonks! Hermione would think, almost getting out of her chair before the couple faced her. It's not like Hermione actually thought that she'd see her long-gone friends walking down the sidewalk, but that little spark of hope inside of her kept searching without the consent of her common sense.

On this particular Tuesday, Hermione had "seen" several of her friends, and was feeling very melancholy when she stepped out of the elevator onto her floor. Making a right, she walked down the hallway and opened the third door on the left that read "Dr. H. G. Jean, Psychologist". Hermione's secretary was already busily typing away at her desk, looking up only to smile and say "Good morning Dr Jean," before continuing with her work.

Hermione, however, wanted to talk. "Good morning Miss Berkeley, how are you feeling today?"

Miss Berkeley looked up again. "Much better than yesterday, thank you Dr Jean."

"Really dear, you must call me Hermione – how often do I have to remind you?" A smirk played over Hermione's lips.

Miss Berkeley blushed. "Sorry Dr J – I mean, Hermione."

"Much better." Hermione smiled before continuing through the door into her little office. It was a modest room, filled with light from several large windows. The furnishings consisted of a single, worn chair that Hermione used and much more comfortable sofa for her clients. A glass table lay between the sofa and chair, and a tall hat stand was immediately right of the door. Hermione hung her trench coat on the stand before she walked over to her chair and opened her briefcase.

According to her schedule she was seeing a new client first thing this morning, a Mr Komodo. What an odd name, Hermione thought. He must be Japanese, or something...

As Mr Komodo wasn't due to arrive until 8:45, Hermione pulled out her make-up bag for some quick touch-ups –first impressions were very important in her business. The small mirror Hermione held showed a truly sad sight; brown, frizzy hair pulled back into a severe (already slightly coming apart) bun, a mouth that seemed to be forever turned down at the corners despite her valiant efforts, and sad brown eyes surrounded by premature wrinkles, staring out at her from behind thick glasses. Hermione mentally shook herself. Get out of this rut girl, you're better than this!

Just then her intercom buzzed. "A Mr Komodo to see you Dr Jean."

Hastily, Hermione shoved the mirror and make-up back into her bag. "Thank you Miss Berkeley. Please show him in."

Hermione rose out of her chair and rushed to place her briefcase by the window. Damn Granger, why couldn't you be more organized? she thought.

The sound of the door opening caused Hermione to whirl around, a smile expertly placed on her face. "Good morning, Mr Komodo, I'm Dr Jean."

The figure entering the room was smartly dressed, wearing a grey three-piece suit and a grey fedora with a dark green band. His shoes were immaculately polished, and in his pale hand he held a long, black walking stick. Hermione strode forward to extend her hand, only to recoil in shock when Mr Komodo looked up and revealed his face. Her expression of shock was mirrored exactly in the grey-blue eyes of her newest client, his lips open in a small "o".

Hermione regained her composure first. "You!" she hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr Komodo" quickly replaced his shocked expression with his typical sneer. "I might ask the same of you, Doctor Jean. Posing as a muggle psychologist. What next, are you going to become a dentist like mummy and daddy?"

Panicked, Hermione looked past her client through the still-open door, attempting to see whether Miss Berkeley had heard Mr Komodo's not-so-quiet comment. "Get in here," Hermione hissed, reaching past the gentleman to close the door. "Miss Berkeley is entirely muggle, and I have no wish to obliviate the girl. For God's sake, keep your voice down!"

Hermione and the man just stared at one another for several moments, the animosity hanging in the air between the two. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she spat, "So, Mr Malfoy, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Draco Malfoy smirked at her. "Actually it's Lord Malfoy, Granger. Address me with the proper respect that I deserve."

"What little respect you deserve I have already given you, Draco, since I should have kicked you out of my office!" Hermione hissed.

Draco walked past her, swinging his cane. "Well actually, Granger, I paid for my session in advance. So, technically, you can't kick me out until my forty-five minutes have passed." When he reached the window, Draco removed his fedora and threw it so that it landed perfectly on the hat stand. "As much as I would like to get out of here as quickly as possible, Pansy will hex me if I don't follow through with this session."

When Hermione just stood by the door, anger still radiating off of her, Draco said, "Well, get a move on Granger! We haven't got all day!" before sitting down in Hermione's chair.

That was it for Hermione. "Get out of my chair, you cockroach!" she shouted. Draco had the good grace to look slightly afraid at this sudden outburst. "You waltz in here, pulling rank and criticizing my lifestyle, sauntering around like you own the place. Well, here's a shock for your pretty little blonde brain, this is MY room, MY session to organize, and MY life. So if you go sneaking around using a pseudonym just to scare your former classmates out of their wits that is FINE with me, but you are DONE playing with my mind Draco Malfoy!"

For a while there was silence. Neither one moved, neither one blinked, neither one seemed to breathe as they waited for the other to make the next move. A loud buzzing filled the office as the intercom suddenly turned on. "Um, Dr Jean?" Miss Berkeley's timid voice filled the office. "Is, erm, everything ok? I heard shouting."

Hermione shook herself before pressing the button and replying, "Yes, everything's fine Miss Berkeley. No need to worry."

Malfoy's eyes hardened as he stood proudly and walked over to the couch. Sitting down and sprawling across the leather sofa, Draco said, "Well played Granger. Now that you've...vented, can we actually start the session?"

Hermione's rage still radiated from her. "Right, of course Mr Komodo." She went and sat down in her (now vacated) chair, picking up her pencil and notepad from the glass table. "Let's start at the beginning then, shall we? Why did you feel the need to come in for this session?"

"Well, it wasn't my idea really," Malfoy drawled, swinging his feet over the side of the couch. oblivious to Hermione's aggression. "My girlfriend, Pansy – you know, Pansy Parkinson? She was our year – thinks that I'm acting "moody" and "not myself" lately, so, being an over-emotional girl she suggested that I go see a psychologist. Not my idea."

Hermione sighed. Obviously being angry wasn't making any sort of impression on Draco. "Alright Mr Malfoy –erm, Komodo...whatever. Why a muggle psychologist, and why this particular establishment? Last time I checked you were fairly against muggles of any sort."

Draco rubbed his hands over his face – a decidedly un-Draco-ish thing to do – before he answered. "My family's reputation precedes itself in the wizard world. Obviously you haven't been in Diagon Alley recently, but any Dark family – confirmed Death Eater or not – is refused service. Knockturn Alley has been shut down, and there's really nowhere else in the wizarding world for me to seek counsel. So, I saw your advertisement in the paper a week ago, and booked this appointment to get Pansy off my back."

"So," Hermione started, "you mean to say that you" – she jabbed her pencil in Draco's direction – "coming here" – she pointed the pencil back at herself – "was a complete accident?"

"Well it certainly seems that way," Draco said, looking exasperated. "I certainly didn't come here because of your stellar reputation. It was impossible to find this place you know..."

"Why the pseudonym?" Hermione interrupted, attempting to ignore the criticism. "Your name is notorious in the wizard world, but no muggle would recognize it."

Draco sighed. "The pseudonym is a precaution. The Ministry has been tracking every purchase, reservation, or order that any supposedly Dark wizard tries to make. By using the pseudonym I can come here without fear of a shadow, or worrying that the Ministry might find some way to deny me this right as well."

Hermione felt a remarkable surge of sympathy towards Draco. Was his life really that bad, that when he went out he couldn't even use his real name? "Why 'Mr Komodo', though? It seems rather random."

"I thought you were supposed to be clever, Granger," Malfoy smirked. "Draco is Latin for 'dragon', and there's a particularly deadly and interesting lizard known as the 'Komodo Dragon'. So, you see, not really random at all."

Hermione then felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Of course, how could I have missed that connection? You're getting slow in your old age, Granger...

"And you? Your pseudonym, Dr Jean?" Malfoy asked.

"Granger isn't exactly a common name," Hermione pointed out. "I don't want to call unnecessary attention to myself, so I use my middle name as my last name."

"As interesting as this heart-to-heart may be," Malfoy interrupted rudely, "aren't you supposed to ask me "how I feel" about various personal questions detailing my life? See what my emotional responses tell you about my mental state?"

Sighing, Hermione answered "No, only the shrinks in movies do that. As this is your first session, we're just supposed to try and get to know each other, and let you see if you want to return for actual counselling."

"Ah," Draco said, "a testing session! Isn't this just wonderful! Too bad we know all about each other's lives already..."

"I highly doubt that!" Hermione interrupted. "You didn't know I was a muggle psychologist, did you? I'm sure there's lots I don't know about you."

"Touché Miss Granger, touché. Wait, is it Mrs Weasley? Have you actually married that ginger buffoon that you were so fond of?"

Hermione felt a headache coming on at the mere mention of Ron. "Erm, not exactly. We're engaged."

"Engaged?" Draco laughed. "The war ended almost ten years ago Granger, and if I recall correctly he proposed at the victory party. Why the long wait?"

Hermione started to ramble. "Well, I had to finish school, and Ron had to finish auror training, and now my business is just getting set up, and -"

"Ok, I don't need the whole bloody soap opera," Draco sneered. "One very important question, though; your fingers are remarkably bare. Where's the ring?"

A wave of nausea washed over Hermione. "Um, the ring?"

"Yes, you dunderhead, the ring," Draco sighed. "It's circular, usually has a gemstone in it? Is usually given by a male to a female when said male proposes?"

"Yes, yes, alright, no need to be rude," Hermione huffed. "Give me a moment." Getting up and walking back over to the window, she reached into the outer pocket of her briefcase and pulled out a ring. Unlike most engagement rings, this one did not have a diamond set in it; rather, there was a rather large, well-cut ruby in the center, with the image of a lion suspended within the red gem. The band was gold, the lettering circling it reading "Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart".

Hermione walked back over to Draco and handed it to him. "God, this is ugly. No wonder you don't wear it." Draco sniffed disdainfully at the offending piece of jewelry. "What was Weasleby thinking, getting you something like this? Wait, I forgot – Weasleby doesn't actually think."

"That was uncalled for, Malfoy," Hermione said, snatching up the ring. "Ron thinks a lot, actually. He has many positive qualities that you, obviously, have overlooked."

"I'm sure," Draco snorted. Hermione glared at him and she put the ring back in its hiding place and returned to her chair. "And what does the charming and glorious Ronald Weasley think of his future wife working in a muggle profession? Is he proud of his little bookworm?"

Hermione glared at Malfoy. The prospect of confession the reality of her situation to Draco was appalling, but it's not like she could lie... "Ronald dislikes my profession immensely, actually," she grumbled. "As soon as he gets promoted to be leader of his division, he wants me to quit and stay home to raise lots of Weasley babies." Hermione gasped. Had she actually just said that to Malfoy? She hadn't even voiced her discontent to Harry!

Rather than the cutting sarcastic remark that she was expecting, Hermione heard Draco say "That's rather unfair of him. You've obviously worked hard to get here."

"Well, yes. Thank you for noticing," she said quietly. Could Draco have really changed that much since their school days together?

"And, of course, the prospect of raising Weasley babies is rather terrifying," Draco continued.

Nope. He hadn't changed. He was the same old Draco. Hermione started tapping her pencil. "Alright, now you know too much about my life. Tell me about yours."

"Well you know, the usual," Draco began. "Social ostracization, frozen assets resulting in almost total bankruptcy, a girlfriend who's with me just because she, like myself, is a public enemy, and – I almost forgot the best part – being subjected to counselling because I am not the bubbly little first-year that everyone remembers from before the war."

Hermione had to try hard not to laugh at the image of Draco as a "bubbly little first-year". Soberly, she responded, "Well, the war changed everyone."

Draco laughed. "Some more than others, Granger. As far as I can tell you're still an insufferable know-it-all."

Already used to his harsh remarks, Hermione continued. "Under the post-war legislation, those acquitted of their crimes were to be reintegrated into society. I testified for you, as well as Harry and Ron. You should have gotten off scot-free."

"But that's not the way the world works, is it Granger?" Draco said, icily. "In theory everything is wonderful, but in practice nothing is ever perfect. If a shopkeeper doesn't serve you because he's "out of what you're looking for", or your stocks suddenly plummet because of "unfortunate circumstances", everything seems legitimate doesn't it? Just a run of bad luck. But at some point, that stops being luck, and starts being people getting back at what they believe is the face of evil."

Hermione grew quiet at this comment. "That's completely unfair. I'm...sorry."

That was obviously the wrong thing to say, since Malfoy's face contorted into a strange sort of angry grimace. "Oh, you're sorry, are you?" Draco sneered. "Why should you be sorry? You've got nothing to be sorry for, oh member of the Golden Trio." Hermione winced at that term. "What idiot came up with that name anyways? It makes you sound like some hero. You know what, nevermind."

Draco stood up suddenly, and stalked to the door, swinging his cane furiously. He grabbed his hat from the stand, opened the door, and slammed it behind him angrily.

Although her eyes were shut, Hermione heard Miss Berkeley trying unsuccessfully to slow Draco down. The slam of her outer door caused Hermione to sigh, and she put her head into her hands. That had gone well.