Author's Note: Hello everyone, welcome to my fic "Red, Blue or Green?". Thanks for taking a look :) Yes, there is a meaning behind the title. Colours have meanings, and our preferences say a great deal about our psyche.
This is a Dramione, as I ship that couple hard. However, the patient is NOT Draco. Not exactly. It's quite easy to guess, actually, but there is a lot more to find out, so I don't mind if you already know. :) Please consider that I am not a practiced writer of fanfiction, and English isn't my first language (at least not in everyday life - only when it comes to Harry Potter :P) so I would be grateful for constructive criticism.
Oh and, I do not own Harry Potter. It is the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, the Goddess of Writing!
Hermione was sitting in her office, sipping her umpteenth cup of tea. Two spoons of sugar, a third milk and two-thirds English Breakfast, just the way she liked it. Usually, getting comfortable in her workplace wasn't that hard - the room was small, but it had been furnished in accordance to her preferences. Her comfortable red Chintz armchair stood adjacent to a small dark brown coffee table; on the other side of the table stood another chair like hers; in one corner, there was a red beanie bag surrounded by an assortment of cushions for those who preferred a plushier substance under their bum and in the other, a huge drawer for the paperwork she didn't take back home with a phone and a fax machine on top of it. There were several different carpets covering the floor, giving it a patchwork look, all in variations of warm red and orange. The windowsill was adorned with pot plants and the table sported a vase with a beautiful bouquet of a variety of white flowers. A grandfather clock stood near the door so it would be in the patient's back and her line of sight, as recommended by any book she read on furnishing her therapy room. Watching and sipping away, she knew there was someone waiting outside, but she couldn't face them yet. Not after the phone call she had just received. She needed a few minutes to think, and she refused to meet a patient when she was this preoccupied. They deserved better.
After finishing her studies at Hogwarts, Hermione had chosen to enter a new trainee programme with the goal of becoming a counsellor, an opportunity provided by the collaboration of St. Mungo's and the Psychological Institution of London University. The head of the institution was a Squib and therefore knew exactly how his patients could benefit from magical influence and vice versa. In spite of being the eager and ambitious bookworm she was, she had never really been able to fulfil her potential as Ron's wife. He had gone off to become a professional Quidditch player, but as his novelty for being one of the three people mainly responsible for saving the Wizarding World wore off, getting field time became increasingly harder. He simply lacked the talent other players had. Not wanting Hermione to be more successful than him, he... Her thoughts were wandering again. You do NOT think about this, remember, Hermione?, she scolded herself. Repression wasn't the healthy method of dealing, as she told her patients day in, day out; however, she just didn't have the time to deal properly. After her divorce, she could finally flourish in her work, and before long she had become one of the most renowned counsellors in the Western Hemisphere.
Which led her back to the phone call. The institution had informed her that the CEO of a very successful company had requested the services of "the best god-damn shrink in that forsaken building" for his 8 year-old son. Marge, her secretary, had also forwarded their boss's message that Hermione "was their best bet" and not to "let this one get away", as he was willing to pay and donate a lot to their cause.
Hermione, however, had second thoughts. She was a pretty great psychologist, she knew that. She could unravel just about anyone. But they weren't talking about an adult, this time the patient would be a child. She had no experience with children whatsoever, and even though her trainee programme prepared her for a scenario where a kid occupied the seat across from her, it had so far been her experience that proved most helpful. Yes, the idea of a challenge tempted her, but the word challenge wasn't something she should use when it came to her field of work. These were people with problems who needed help. And just like that, she knew the answer. Using one hand to unpack her notes on the patient waiting outside and the other to dial her secretary's number, she prayed her decision was the right one. "Marge, kindly fax me all the data you already have on this boy; you know the drill, personal info, his case folder and so on. And send my patient in, please."
About a minute later, a woman with straight black hair and a heavily made-up face walked into the room.
"Hello, Miss Granger."
"Good morning, Mrs-"
"Don't say it!"
"Okay. How have you been since our last session?"
She gave Hermione a withering look. Stopping her from addressing the woman with her husband's last name, of course it was a given how the last couple of days had been. But it was necessary she asked anyway.
"Splen-did", she spat. Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"I thought we were past that." She looked down and folded her hands in her lap. "Tell me what happened." However, she just sat there, picking at the skin around her fingernails; a nervous habit of hers. Hermione silently offered her a cup of tea and she accepted with a forced smile. After a couple of minutes, she opened her mouth with a deep breath.
"He did it again. I tried to remember what you said, but I got so angry, so hurt, I couldn't remember. I just couldn't."
"Alright... How did you find out?" After the first few meetings with a patient, Hermione tried to take notes only after a session had ended to assure them they had her absolute and undivided attention, so she just sat there, calmly drinking tea with the woman and waiting for her to speak.
"Well, I... you know. I traced him."
Hermione put her cup down and sighed.
"We talked about this. I agree, what he is doing is wrong and unfair to you, but tracing him is not only equally wrong and unfair, it's illegal as well. I understand your need for reassurance, given your past with men, or more specifically, a certain man. And we already established that your... pathological need for control stems from that. Your husband going behind your back doesn't make the healing process any easier on you, and I can only ask again: Why don't you leave him? Why do you put yourself through this, why do you let him reopen wounds that you have been attempting to heal for over 2 years with me?"
"Because I love him." Hermione couldn't count how many times she had heard that sentiment already.
"Do you, though? Or do you love who he could be with you? Given that he changed everything about himself. You knew of his reputation before you married him." Blunt words in order to coax a response out of the patient that would make it possible to assess their progress – or in this case, regress.
"How dare you imply I don't love my husband?!"
"You know exactly I didn't mean it like that. What exactly did he do? You've been so much better the last couple of months, I feel like in a matter of days it has all been eradicated."
The woman's lip quivered and her eyes shone. Quickly, Hermione produced a box of tissues and she took one before replying. "He...he cheated on me."
"Yes, as unfortunate as it is, that is nothing new..."
"With my mother, it is." She burst into tears, her make-up smearing and colouring tissue after tissue black and beige. Hermione sat there for the rest of the hour, trying to calm the woman in front of her and comforting her until the sobbing slowly died down.
"I hate to send you out like this. Would you like another appointment tomorrow? It's sooner than normal, but given the circumstance..."
"I'll take it. Gladly. I'll see you tomorrow... Hermione."
"See you tomorrow, Pansy."
As soon as she was out the door, Hermione got up, sighing heavily, and picked up the faxed case file. She flipped it open and when she read the name of the boy, she almost cackled like a madwoman.
You have got to be KIDDING me, she thought.
Sooo, who's the kid? Pretty easy to guess, huh? And what exactly is Pansy's problem (aside from a cheating husband)? How has she come to be in Hermione's care? What is Hermione repressing? These and more questions are to be solved, and some more to be asked, in upcoming chapters! Please R&R! :)