All characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I just play with them.

Twisted

"Think of your head as an unsafe neighborhood; don't go there alone."

― Augusten Burroughs, Dry

Chapter 1

When things cause you anxiety, you should generally not seek them out. This is common knowledge, and Hermione was quite fond of knowledge. Yet, she still continued her begrudging steps towards her office, reassuring herself that she was not a buck-toothed eleven year old anymore. No one could make her feel anything without her consent. Not even Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy. Just thinking of the name made her skin crawl and obscenities beg to slip from her mouth. Obscenities she wouldn't have dared to utter if he hadn't been for the slimy git who taught them to her in the first place. Draco bloody Malfoy isn't exactly a common name. That's why when her secretary had floo'd over her new patient's file, she'd nearly thrown up her lunch from the shock. Thankfully she had an entire drawer stocked with Calming Draught (for the patients, if you must know), because she highly doubted her stale crackers with cheese would be any better the second time. After rereading the file at least a dozen times, she was still a little woozy.

After the war had ended, St. Mungo's had received hundreds of owls inquiring about psychiatric help. As a wizard hospital, they had a serious lack of mental health protocol and were forced to take in applications and train prospective counselors. This is where Hermione came in. A little over four years ago she had applied, and a little over four years ago was the last time she saw Draco Malfoy.

Until today. That's right, kids. Draco bloody Malfoy was seeking out mudblood Hermione Granger's help with his psyche. This was possibly the most ironic thing that could possibly happen in actual life, and she couldn't enjoy it due to the fact that it was happening to her.

Hermione paused outside the Mental Health Clinic entrance in the hospital, smoothing her business robes and patting the twist in her hair to make sure The Bush (as Ron had taken to calling it) had not escaped. Deep breaths. You cannot attack a patient. That's all he is, a patient. Murder is illegal.

"Are you going to go in or are you expecting the doors to open all by themselves?" Hermione jumped at the sound of silky drawl, emitting a slightly mortifying squeak in surprise. She usually preferred her silent pep talks to go unnoticed by strangers. Turning to try to the man to explain herself, she felt her expression go slack as she realized who it was. No, this wasn't a stranger. This was worse. She watched recognition pass through his steely eyes and all the color that had drained from his already pale face seemed to go into hers. His mouth opened, and then closed, becoming a stern line that rivaled their ex-Professor McGonagall's. As the seconds passed she was able to fully take him in, and to see what damage the years had done to him.

His usually translucent skin had become a sickly grey, the dark bruises under his bloodshot eyes seemed to be the only color he had. His white hair slicked back as usual, his once elegant black robes now looked frayed, and he seemed to be seriously underweight. She was looking at a ghost.

The pause had given her time to recover, and he seemed shocked as she flashed him a grim but professional smile, gesturing for him to enter ahead of her, greeting him with, "Hello, Mr. Malfoy. You're early." He stared for a moment longer before regaining his pride and sweeping into the hall in a manner so similar to his late god-father, she almost laughed. Almost.

She brushed past him through the dimly lit hall, muttering the charm that ignited the gas lampsthrough each doorway that she past. Hermione was always the first to arrive and last to leave, and her first appointments of the day were usually follow-ups on older clients who she knew well enough to know that they wouldn't suddenly assault her. This was different. Draco Malfoy was a wild-card, since their graduation, his bad boy exploits in the papers had constantly threatened his family's efforts to convince the public that they had been reformed. He was unpredictable and Hermione hated the unknown.

"I'll get your paperwork." She called over to her shoulder to a still-silent Malfoy. He was probably fuming over the fact that his servants hadn't told him the Healer's name before he had come. She was positive he hadn't known she would be Healing him, or else he wouldn't be here. She rifled through some papers on her desk before coming across what she needed before grabbing a quill and clipboard as well. "Have a seat." She met his eye and gestured to the sofa in front of her chair. He sat down.

"Where's the Healer?" He finally spoke, his voice sounded gruffer than she remembered.

"You're looking at her." She responded, sitting down in front of him. "If you have a problem with that, you'll have to owl the agency, but you won't be able to get a different appointment for a month." She raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

He clenched his jaw, not meeting her eyes. "Just get on with it." He snapped. She sat back, surprised.

"Well, alright. I don't think an introduction is needed. You can call me Ms. Granger and I will call you Mr. Malfoy. This will be strictly professional. I have made an Unbreakable Vow that anything said in this room may not be spoken outside of it and not at all with a non-Healer without your consent. Do you understand?" He jerked his head forward, still not meeting his eyes. His posture was defensive, his body language tense.

"I'll be asking some questions now that where no asked during your Background Evaluation. These will be more in-depth. The more verbose your response, the easier this will be for both of us." He jerked his head again, this time meeting her eyes. His eyes were like melted silver, always moving even when he was still. She glanced down at her clipboard, the form was already half filled out with the basic information her secretary, Margo, had filled out and read the first question. "Why are you here today?"

He mumbled back a response, his posture shifted and his chin jutted out in arrogance. "Pardon?" She asked, leaning in. He glanced up quickly, scorching her with his eyes. His hard face twisting around the words as if it physically pained him to say them – it probably did-

"My magic is gone."

Author's Note: Welcome to Twisted. I am honored to have you have read this entire chapter, and would be pretty darn-tootin' ecstatic if you'd review. I'm pretty pumped for this story and as for how you feel… tell me about it, stud(;

-Val