A/N: Okay, it's been awhile, blah-blah-blah, follow me on Twitter if you want reasons.
Similarly, this is unbeta'd, so don't be an arse about grammar. If you knew what I meant, then that's all that matters.
Chapter Nine – Session Five
Hermione shifted nervously as she sat in the empty beige hallway of the psychiatric wing in St. Mungo's. The colour was off-putting. Some industrious interior decorator had most likely convinced the hospital board that the colour was warm; soothing, even. Hermione couldn't have disagreed more. In fact, every minute she sat there, she grew more and more uncomfortable. She decided to attribute the discomfort to the paint colour.
In hindsight, she wondered if the visit to Dr. McKinnon wasn't a little timely.
The appointment had very nearly not happened. Not by way of any wavering on Hermione's part, though it did take a bit of internal back and forth for her to drum up the courage to send the inquiring owl. The delay was, in part, due to the fact that Dr. Amanda McKinnon seemed perpetually unavailable for appointments. Owls returned with polite but brief notes of apology regarding the lack of openings and even formal requests from Madame Pomfrey, who had continued to treat Hermione, Ron and Harry out of respect for their privacy, were returned with apologetic referrals to other psychotherapists in the hospital.
After nearly two weeks of inquiries, however, Hermione had exhausted her patience with conventional methods. Dr. McKinnon was the best in the business; everyone Hermione had asked had confirmed this. And because Hermione was who she was, she didn't trust anyone but the absolute best. So, in light of this stalemate, she decided to move on to a more stealthy attack, drafting the two best minds she could think of to help her.
"All I can say is, about damn time, Granger," Fred had predictably responded, followed by that playful smile that was both kind and a little bit naughty at the same time. It said a lot about how much Hermione's life had changed that she was more willing to go to Fred and George Weasley for help over Harry and Ron.
"Yeah. We had given you up for batty ages ago," George had added, though his smirk matched his brothers.
"Well, as much as I'd hate to disappoint your glee in my eventual psychotic break, boys, it seems that the psychologist I'd like to engage is not particularly enthused with the idea of taking me on as a patient," Hermione replied.
"Then clearly there's something wrong with her," George declared.
"Especially if she can't see how incredibly necessary your need for psychological assistance is," said Fred.
Hermione knew the playful ribbing was not meant offensively, so she swallowed the bubble of indignation and said, "I was thinking that you two might be able to help me. Conventional means of acquiring an appointment have proven less than fruitful."
"You've come to the right place, Granger," Fred assured. "We just have a few questions."
"Does she have an assistant?" George asked.
"Is that assistant female?"
"If so, is she heterosexual?"
"And if so, is she single?"
"It would also help to know if she is attractive, or perhaps—"
"Desperate," Fred finished.
Hermione shot them a level look. "Though it may be hard for you to believe, when researching a psychologist, I wasn't overly interested in the character of their assistant," she said dryly. "I am, however, sure that there is an assistant and judging from the handwriting, I am confident that assistant is either female or a rather effeminate male. I'm sure you can figure something out for either of those possibilities."
George looked at Fred. "It's been awhile since we've worked our charms on an unsuspecting person of the same sex."
"Not since Eamon begged us to drive away that clingy little American fellow he had picked up last time he was in London."
"And that was ages ago."
"Gentlemen," Hermione interrupted. "As you may have noticed, time is of the essence. So…would you mind terribly if I asked you to move past the inevitable banter and straight into the actual plan?"
It hadn't been particularly difficult in the end. The trio discovered that Dr. McKinnon's assistant, a lovely raven-haired girl named Hannah, had been a classmate of Ginny's who had always secretly fancied the twins. So while Dr. McKinnon was out of the office, Fred and George had slipped in to charm the unsuspecting young woman. They weaved a pitiful tale about their very shy, very disturbed second cousin Jean Prewitt who was in desperate need of Dr. McKinnon's much-lauded services.
It took them less than five minutes.
So now, Hermione was sitting in the beige hallway waiting for her ill-gained appointment. She had done enough glamour to make her a passable likeness for the Prewitt-Weasley family tree: red hair, freckles, blue eyes, a bit of a paunch around the middle. She hoped that it was good enough to get her into the office without causing too much suspicion. She fully intended to change back to normal appearance in order to confront the elusive therapist.
She had long since suspected that the brush-off had been personal.
The sound of heels clicking on the linoleum floor made Hermione turn. She was mildly surprised to see a beautiful thirty-something willowy blonde walking toward her, her clothes expensively professional with a hint of effortless sensuality. It was a look Hermione herself knew she could never pull off without an enormous amount of alcohol but the look seemed natural to the approaching woman.
"I am so sorry to keep you waiting," Dr. McKinnon said as she got closer, a kind, mildly-apologetic smile on her face. "Sometimes these meetings just go on and on." She unlocked the door to her office and motioned for Hermione to enter. "Shall we?"
Hermione stepped in without a word, finding herself in a room as dissimilar to the hallway as was possible. It was small but cosy, with walls the colour of pale blue skies and an overstuffed chair placed next to a comfortable-looking sofa. A large mahogany desk was pushed against the wall, but the neat stacks of folders and paperwork upon it hinted to the younger witch that Dr. McKinnon was not one to push paper unless absolutely necessary.
"So, Ms…Prewitt, is it?" Dr. McKinnon said, glancing at her notebook as she sat gracefully in the overstuffed chair, leaving the sofa for Hermione. "Your file doesn't say why you're here."
Hermione remained standing. "It wouldn't, because Jean Prewitt does not technically exist." She let the glamours fade before looking directly at the seated blonde, gauging her reaction.
If Dr. McKinnon was surprised, she didn't show it. Instead, she sighed and put her notebook and quill to the side before crossing one long leg over the other. "I must say, Ms. Granger, I am flattered by your persistence."
"It's a helpful characteristic to have," Hermione replied.
"Of that I'm certain. But as I mentioned both to you and Poppy, I don't have time to see new patients right now."
"And yet I managed to get this appointment easily enough."
"A fact which I will be speaking to my assistant about, I assure you."
Hermione bristled slightly, hating the idea that her subterfuge could put the naïve young assistant's job in jeopardy. "It's not her fault. She didn't know,"
"I'm sure she didn't, since she is under very strict orders as far as you are concerned."
Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "And why is that, may I ask? Have I in some way offended you?"
"Don't misunderstand me, Ms. Granger. It's really nothing personal."
"Funny that it doesn't seem like it."
She sighed. "Please sit down, Hermione."
"Oh, are we on a first name basis already?"
"You may call me Mandy if you wish."
Her tone was friendly, which confused Hermione even more as she sat. "I truly don't understand. Why are you refusing to work with me?"
"I've been afraid for some time that you may attempt to work with me. Unfortunately, I can't treat you due to a matter of ethics."
"Ethics?" Hermione frowned. "Does this…does this have to do with my writing? Because as a psychologist I thought you'd appreciate that there's a distinction between a writer and her content—"
"Oh no, it's nothing like that. I happen to be a great fan of your writing. This is more a…conflict of interests, I suppose. I simply know too much personal information about you."
Hermione gave a weary sigh. "Listen…Mandy…I respect your intelligence but just because I happen to be a person of mild repute really doesn't mean you know me."
She arched an eyebrow. "I would expect someone of your own remarkable intelligence would think better than to assume that someone of my intelligence would presume an intimate knowledge merely by reading gossip rags, Ms. Granger."
Hermione could see a hint of wounded pride that reminded her of her own character when confronted with incorrect assumptions. This, oddly, endeared the older woman to her slightly. "I apologize. May I ask how you came to know these personal details?"
"I happen to be incredibly close to someone in your inner circle. As such, I cannot treat you."
Hermione frowned. "Who are you close to?"
"I'm afraid I cannot divulge that."
"Are they a patient?"
"I'm afraid I cannot divulge that either."
"Don't you think I have a right to know who's talking about me? Especially if they are talking about my personal life without my knowledge?"
"I assure you that there is no malice intended…"
"I'm sure, but can you assure me that this information won't be repeated to someone who isn't protected by doctor-patient confidentiality? I'm sorry, Dr. McKinnon, but I am incredibly sensitive about my private life."
Dr. McKinnon looked at her for a moment before shaking her head with a small smile. "I knew you were smart, Ms. Granger, but I'm afraid I may have underestimated just how smart. I admit that I warned him about something like this happening—"
"So it's a man then," Hermione interrupted, immediately going through her mental list of close male friends. Though the list was numerous, she was unable to come up with anyone she could see herself having in common with the glamorous older woman. "To my knowledge, none of my close male friends are patients of yours."
"This one isn't…at least not officially. I should start charging him, though, considering how much therapy I've given him over the years."
"So you've known each other for a long time?"
"Longer than you have known him; I guarantee you that."
That narrowed the list down to a number of people Hermione knew outside of her Hogwarts schoolmates, but that only served to compound her confusion. Unless…
"Is it Sirius Black?" she asked.
"I think," Dr. McKinnon said, standing abruptly. "That you and I should go get a drink."
Hermione blinked. "Are…are you certain that's a good idea?"
"I've already told you that I can't work with you professionally, Hermione. But you do deserve an explanation and since you seem intent on getting one, I need to have at least one drink in my system before I clarify myself. So come on. I'm buying."
Curiosity piqued and unable to conjure a compelling reason why not to join the complex older woman for a drink, Hermione followed. After all, what could possibly be revealed by a harmless drink with a stranger?
The Dragon's Blood Club was one of those terribly posh places whose exterior looked exactly what one would expect from an upscale social club. It sat on St. James's Street, the site of exclusive Muggle clubs like White's and Brooke's. Dragon's, as it was called to be in step with the other clubs in the neighbourhood, had started as a place exclusively for purebloods. After the war, it evolved into simply being an exclusive social club catered for the very wealthy.
Hermione had been there a handful of times for events that required her presence, but she disliked the snobbish atmosphere. Though she and most of the members of the Order had been invited to join after the war – most likely as a gesture of good will rather than enthusiasm for their company – Hermione had declined. The fact that Sirius, like Dr. McKinnon, was also a member, however, only strengthened her suspicion that he had been the person who had talked.
The therapist seemed to sense Hermione's thinly-veiled disdain as the pair sat in the admittedly-comfortable leather chairs. "My membership is hereditary," she explained, taking a sip of the wine that had been brought to them by stoic, white-gloved house elves. "My normal haunts are the Leaky, or the pubs in Hogsmeade or Godric's Hollow. Going there, however, you're never sure who you may run into and I figured we'd need privacy for this conversation. One thing I will say is that they are delightfully paranoid about security here."
"I noticed," Hermione mumbled, eyes flicking to the intimidating-looking security guard in the far corner, dark eyes scanning the room.
"I've been told that they recruit from Durmstrang. Something about them being trained in hand-to-hand combat and duelling." Then she gave a light laugh. "Listen to me, sounding like a bloody brochure for the place. I suppose my point is that I dislike the exclusivity, but appreciate the privacy. In my industry, privacy is key."
"Of that I have no doubt. Is this where you meet with Sirius to talk about me?"
She sighed. "It's not Sirius, Hermione."
"Oh, are we back on a first name basis now?"
She leaned forward. "I would really like you to view me as a friend and not an enemy, Hermione. I did not solicit the information I know about you, and what I do know is incredibly complimentary."
Hermione sighed. "Alright. I apologize, Mandy. I'm just…edgy."
"Understandable. Really, it is." She took another sip of her wine, appraising Hermione slightly before saying, "I hope you don't mind me mentioning, but your photos hardly do you justice."
Hermione couldn't help but blush. "I…thank you."
"It's easy to understand why Remus is so taken by you."
Hermione started, almost spilling her own wine in surprise. She noticed Mandy gauging her reaction, noting the genuine shock. Of all the men in her life, Hermione never thought that Remus would be their mutual friend. The new-found knowledge made her suspicious, and she narrowed her eyes. "How, exactly, do you know Remus?"
"It's nothing untoward, Hermione, I assure you. Remus is, very literally, like a brother to me." Hermione's eyes narrowed even more and Mandy sighed. "I assume you know the history between Remus and my sister, Marlene? I won't insult your intelligence by thinking that you don't know I'm Marlene's sister. As I said, I know you well enough to know that you would do your research before contacting me."
Hermione couldn't argue, so she didn't. "I know that Remus and Marlene were engaged when she died."
Mandy nodded. "The short version is that Remus helped me out when I ran away from home after Marlene died. I was a teenager. He took care of me. Made sure I got a quality education, helped me when I was starting out on my own…everything a brother does for his sister. Therefore, understandably, he's been a pretty stable figure in my life for almost two decades. It's largely for that reason that I can't treat you."
"I still don't quite follow. How does your…relationship…to Remus have to do with me?"
Mandy gave her the look that question deserved. "You've been dating him for five years, Hermione. Our conversations for that time have centred almost predominantly around you."
Hermione shook her head. "I just…I don't understand why Remus never mentioned you. I mean, he and I were engaged. I'm just…I'm finding it hard to believe all this because he never mentioned you."
"I know. I told him he should. I mean, it's all pretty suspicious, isn't it? But I think part of it is that he considers me his last…positive connection to Marlene. How do you explain to your fiancée that you still have ties to someone you loved over twenty years ago?"
"I would have never begrudged him—"
"I'm not the one that needs convincing, Hermione. I've been telling him that he needed to introduce me to you, especially since you're getting married."
Hermione tensed. "I…er…I don't know if Remus will tell you this himself but…we've split up."
Mandy's eyes widened. "What? When?"
"Um…almost four months ago now?"
"Four mon—oh, I'm going to kill him," Mandy said darkly.
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because he and I have had dinner every Sunday for that amount of time and not once has he said anything. And I've asked."
"I thought you said you didn't solicit the information you know about me," Hermione countered.
Mandy rolled her eyes. "Hermione, he's my brother. Of course I'm going to ask him how his relationship is going. It's not like I asked him for specific personal information about you."
"Fair enough," Hermione said, taking another sip of wine. "You know, never in my life would I have thought Remus capable of such stealth."
"The man is a werewolf, Hermione. Discretion is pretty much second nature to him."
"I suppose. But it doesn't make me think any better of him for not telling me about you. Especially since trust issues were pretty much the reason why we split up in the first place."
"Yes, I suspected as much."
Hermione frowned. "Really?"
Mandy nodded. "Judging from my conversations with Remus four months ago, I'd hazard a guess that the main point of contention was your relationship with Sirius. Am I right?"
Hermione blinked. "How on earth did you…I mean, it wasn't the main point of contention but it was a significant factor…" She leaned in. "Are you a practitioner of Divination on top of your psychological training? Is that why you're so good?"
Mandy laughed. "No. Personally, I've always thought Divination was a load of waffle. But I remember a particularly depressing conversation we had four months back that had to do with you and Sirius."
"Was that the reason why he confronted me so aggressively?"
"Remus tends to do the exact opposite of what I advise him to do, so probably."
"Look, I'm not saying I'm an angel and I do have guilt about my conduct with Sirius but…he went after me about so many other thing."
"Let me guess. He probably gave you some bullshit about your writing. Knowing him, it was rude and ever-so-slightly misogynist but in a subtle enough way that you didn't really take it that way?"
Hermione frowned. "Okay, honestly, how do you know all this?"
Mandy sighed. "I just know how thick-headed Remus can be sometimes." She took a sip of wine. "No doubt you've discovered the history between Remus, Marlene and Sirius?"
Hermione tensed. "I know enough about it."
"Marlene was a very conflicted woman in a lot of ways. I think your relationship with Sirius brought up some old wounds. You see, Remus has spent the past few years thinking of you the way he thought of Marlene: quiet…unassuming…fairly unadventurous. I loved my sister, Hermione, but up until the war she was a rather submissive creature. Brave and worthy, to be sure, but in the end she just wanted a quiet life with a good man."
"Sounds like something most women want," Hermione said, the heavy feelings of guilt that had been weighing on her settling in the pit of her stomach.
"Not you," Mandy said softly. "I mean…I'm sure eventually. But not now and you are definitely nothing if not adventurous."
Hermione stared at her for a moment before chuckling. "You really weren't exaggerating when you said you knew me, were you?"
Mandy smiled slightly. "No."
Hermione slumped back in the chair. "Ever since we broke up, I've been having…I don't know. A crisis of self, I suppose. Remus and I were happy. We had this quiet, happy little life but recently I've just felt like something is missing. I like the idea of marrying him…I really do. But part of me…I suppose part of me wants to be one of the heroines I write about in my books."
"Is that why you decided to use Sirius Black as a template for your next hero?"
Hermione looked down. "I suppose Remus told you that."
"You know the history, Hermione. Do you blame Remus for being suspicious?"
"No." She ran her hand over her face. "God, Mandy, this whole situation…it's just gotten out of hand. When Remus and I were together I worried that my writing was getting stale. I wanted to write about a different hero, so I started spending time with Sirius and that led to the break up. But now that we're apart I haven't been able to write anything at all. Not about Remus, or Sirius. I love Remus so much and I have for years but suddenly it's just…"
"Not enough?" Mandy asked quietly.
Hermione let out a deep puff of air. "Yes."
"Have you tried telling this to Remus?"
She hesitated. "I tried, but I think I made a mess of it. It all comes down to Sirius, really. I suppose I was deluding myself in thinking that it didn't. The man is magnetic. I mean, he's damaged and definitely not my definition of Prince Charming but he's just…he exudes a charm. And Merlin help me, I'm drawn to it. But then there's Remus and I just…there's a deeper spark and chemistry that could be equally intoxicating but he holds back so much because of his lycanthropy. I can't let it go. Sirius doesn't pretend. He just…is."
Mandy nodded. "Sirius does have a certain…je ne sais quoi. He has a way of knowing exactly what a woman needs at any given moment and provides it. A handy trick to have, really." Hermione must have let her curiosity show on her face because Mandy blushed and looked away. "I…er…I've experienced Sirius. It was a one-time thing but…uh…memorable." She glanced up at Hermione. "Please don't tell Remus. There was…rather an embarrassing amount of alcohol involved."
Hermione bit her lip, unable to help herself as she asked, "How was he?"
Mandy smiled slightly, sipping her wine. "You should experience it for yourself, if you're curious."
"Trust me, I wish I could," she mumbled sullenly.
"Why can't you?"
Hermione sighed. "I promised Remus I wouldn't sleep with Sirius."
"Why?"
"Because he asked me not to."
"So?"
Hermione blinked, unsure if she was explaining herself clearly. "So…I promised."
Mandy frowned. "Hermione…you and Remus split up completely, right?"
"I…I don't know. I mean…I think there's still…hope…on both of our ends but…we're at an impasse right now. He doesn't like what I do and I don't have any interest in stopping…though the way my newest book is going, I may not have a choice." She laughed slightly. "If you can help me get through the writer's block, you'd be a bloody miracle worker."
Mandy watched her for a moment before speaking again. "How's your sex life?"
Hermione was so startled by the sudden shift in conversation that she almost snapped 'None of your business,' but considering the sensitivity of the recent topics of discussion, she figured they had flown into confidante territory ages ago so she replied, "Non-existent at the moment. Why?"
Mandy shrugged. "You're an erotic fiction writer. One would assume that inspiration comes from at least a kernel of real life experience. If there are no experiences to speak of, then the inspiration is probably hard to come by."
"I thought of that. But I really don't think I need to have sex in order to write it. I mean…I can draw on experiences I've had."
"But you've had those experiences with Remus. Your book isn't about Remus. Did you ever consider that your lacklustre review may have also been foreshadowing your own fatigue with the same type of lover?"
"Ah. You read that review too, did you?"
"Hear me out for a moment," Mandy said. "Your books are very good. But your heroes tend to be the same type of man. Complex in a…mildly-superficial way, but generally good men. Like Remus…but without the baggage. Sort of…the Remus that Remus wishes to be. Now, that's all very well and good, but your heroines have been developing into women who wouldn't really tolerate a man like that. Similar, I think, to your own growth. I think your muse just drove you to Sirius a little before your heart – or rather, your libido – could. But the potential has always been there."
Hermione took a moment to digest this. She had always had a sneaking suspicion that she was putting more of herself into her novels than she was willing to admit. But she had always been able to justify herself because her own behaviour was not nearly as naughty as that of her heroines. She had spent so long dividing herself from her work that she had been too entrenched in self-delusion to see what a relative stranger had worked out quite easily.
She had been feeling like a character in one of her books because she was a character in her books. She had been so focussed on running from it that she hadn't realized she had run straight into it.
"You think my problems will go away if I sleep with Sirius?" she finally asked.
Mandy laughed. "It's never that simple, Hermione. But I think you need to take a long look in the mirror and decide who you are. Are you simply the writer of these fantastic tales, content to be an observer to the erotic adventures of your heroine? Or will you embrace your burgeoning sexuality and experiment? Make the decision, then talk to Remus. Get closure or reconcile. The limbo is what's driving your crazy. No irony intended, considering your company."
Hermione sat back and looked around. It was fully dark out and the club was starting to fill with the old guard of the wizarding world. They sipped their firewhisky and played cards or chess, conversing over relevant topics in low, hushed voices. Mandy remained quiet, content to watch her. Hermione knew that life shouldn't have been so easy. One conversation over drinks – or rather, an unintentionally-intended therapy session – should not have been able to inspire such a character change.
And yet…and yet…
Thank you for reading.
More to come...stay tuned.
