Chapter 6 – Little Boys
Sophie was in her living room, curled up in the old armchair by the fireplace. Sitting in that old chair always gave her consolation and solace and she found herself sitting upon just before her more difficult patients. This night, she was staring absentmindedly into the fire, watching as the crimson and golden flames flickered and crackled. There were few things that relaxed her more than sitting by the fire. There was something comforting about a fireplace, the warmth, the light, the smell of the fire wood. She was almost asleep when there was a knock at her door.
She opened it to find Draco Malfoy looking as arrogant as ever, impeccable in his appearance; his robes, crisp and pressed, his hair, perfectly slicked back against a head held high. Sophie marveled at how someone who was shorter than her, still managed to look down at her.
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy. Please come in."
He entered, swaggering as he walked, the pout never leaving his lips. 'He is trying to assert himself,' thought Sophie, 'I wonder if he realizes how young he looks when he does that.'
"Please make yourself comfortable."
"Is this your office?" His lips held a sneer that would have made Snape proud.
"No, it is my living room. I thought we would try to make this first meeting a casual one."
"Whatever." He sat down on the couch, his back completely rigid. "So is this the part where I lay down and tell you about my mother and how I wasn't loved enough as a child?"
Sophie suppressed a smile. "Is that what you want to talk about?"
"I don't want to talk about anything."
"Okay," Sophie remarked and she sat back and waited.
They sat in silence, staring at each other. Fifteen minutes passed before Draco spoke. "Is this what I am going to do every time I have to come to this place?"
"If you want to. We can sit here and just stare at each other, if you like. We can talk about the weather. We can talk about your life. Whatever, right."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"I can't force you to talk to me."
"Good, then we have an understanding."
Sophie admired his defiance; he was trying to stand up to her. Draco seemed to relax as he felt he was in control of the situation. 'This will not do', thought Sophie. 'Time to show the little bugger a thing or two about control. Time to start breaking down walls.'
"How about telling me why you were trying to kill yourself?" she asked offhandedly.
He sat like a statue, barley breathing. "What are you talking about?" he asked in his most thoroughly bored voice.
"Did you really think we didn't know what you were going to use the Belladonna for? Did you really think you are the only one who knows why it is a restricted herb?"
"I was going to use it make a girl easier to handle. So much for your theory."
"I don't what's sadder, Draco, the fact that you think I wouldn't see through that lie or the fact that you find the insinuation of rape a lesser offense than suicide."
Draco looked uncomfortable. A small tremor found his hands as his anger began rising.
"What makes you think you know me so well?" he said, his voice strained. "What makes you think you know anything? You truly are pathetic, you know that. You. Are. Nothing. I am the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Why would I take my own life when I have the world before me. If you haven't heard I am the future and when all is said and done you and your kind will be rocketed into oblivion and only the pure will be left. We will finally be rid of useless Muggles and filthy mudbloods and half breeds who contaminate the very air we breath. You will see soon enough where true power lies."
"Seems like a pretty tall order for one so young."
"I can handle it. I am a Malfoy."
"A lot of responsibility goes with that name doesn't it?"
He was staring at her hard.
"Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy must expect quite a bit from their only son."
"Nothing I can't handle."
He was twitching. His steel grey eyes afire, his fists, clenched and white knuckled. A bead of sweat began to trickle down his cheek and his hair wasn't quite as flawless as when he first appeared. He was terrified, that much was obvious. It was also obvious that it would be a while before she found out why, though a few disturbing possibilities did come to mind. Sophie knew what she wanted to do though her brain was screaming that it was a bad idea, but remembering the madness his eyes held seconds before her resolve wavered. Bad idea be damned…
"Can you handle a hug?"
"What?" Draco stared at her as if a third eye sprouted on her forehead.
"Can you handle a hug? Is the celebrated progeny of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy deaf?"
He didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer.
She slowly walked over to him and sat down. Giving him a warm smile, she gently put her arms around him. He sat immobile, refusing to face her. She held him tighter and began to rock. He swallowed hard, his lips trying unsuccessfully to form the words that would make her let go. It wasn't long before he started to squirm, trying to break free, trying to run. She only held him tighter and kept rocking.
Gasping for air, he became frantic. Though he was visibly suffocating, she would not let go. He tried to push her away, fighting against being buried alive. His trembling was becoming uncontrollable. He clawed at her arms and twisted his body. Emotions flashed on his paling face; anger, confusion, fear, pain. He bit on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He wanted to scream.
And then he stopped.
Stopped trying to run, stopped trying to fight. He just stopped…and started crying. It would be the first time since infancy he cried, and he found once he started, he could not stop. Sophie watched as his body yielded to the sobs, his shoulders dropping, his chest heaving. The shaking that consumed his body before was replaced with the labored breathing of a body racked with pain.
He sat and cried while she held him and hugged him for the rest of the session.
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Sophie went for a walk. With no particular destination in mind, she roamed around the grounds, her eyes never looking up past the horizon. She walked around aimlessly for an hour before finally heading down to Snape's quarters. She had told him she wanted to meet with him after the session, but needed to compose herself before talking to him.
Finally she knocked on his door and he took his time answering it. "Did Mr. Malfoy require extra attention this evening?"
She was too exhausted to retort in the manner that had become custom. "I don't even want to know what you are implying by that remark."
"You are late."
"I needed to walk. The session did not go as I had thought."
He stood contemplating her demeanor. She was shaken about something and he could never remember seeing her so. Seeing her veneer waver made him uneasy. "Continue." He sat down. He was suddenly interested in what she had to say.
She sat on his bed for lack of places to sit. "I expected for him to be defiant. He was. I expected him to make excuses. He did. I expected for him to throw his father's name around. He did that as well…and then it changed. He started to rant about him being the future and about me and my kind being wiped from the face of the Earth. He looked possessed."
Snape considered her words and the way in which they were delivered. "What happened then?"
"I hugged him."
"Pardon."
"I know," she said dropping her face in her hands. "I know, but it seemed the right thing to do."
"Is it standard practice for a therapist to hug a patient?"
At that moment Sophie hoped, really hoped, that her glares could cause permanent damage. "I realize I threw years of training and education out the window when I reverted back to a millennia of maternal instinctsm but the feelings were overwhelming. I found myself looking at a boy trying desperately to be man. I suddenly thought of what his summer must have been like. I envisioned a Boot Camp and Lucius was the Drill Sergeant. He looked…shattered. My heart broke and I hugged him."
"What did he do?"
"Nothing at first. Then he tried to get away. Then he cried. He cried for over half an hour. I just kept hugging him. When I finally told him he could leave, he just went into the bathroom, cleaned up and left without not saying a single word."
Severus sat deep in thought. "They must be planning for all out war. He must have been through quite a bit to be so effected in such a short period of time. "
"That's what I thought as well."
"What happens in your next session?"
"I don't know really. So much is adlibbed. Each session leads into the next. He is bordering on the brink of a nervous breakdown; all the signs are there as if he read them out of the text books. I have to play this carefully, the stakes are too high. I need him to come to me. I need to let him allow the words to come out. I can't force them out."
"So much for the art of the science."
The words stung more than they should have. "I am not dissecting a frog. There is no standard blueprint for the workings of the mind. Though we may share similar characteristic, goals, fears and dreams, we are all individuals. We are all different in how we interrupt things and how we react to them. I can't rush him…I only hope I can help him."
