"Still no symptoms of any werewolf-like tendencies?" Draco asked as he examined Bill Weasley's old wounds. Bill had become a regular patient of his, by some sort of luck. Luckily, Bill seemed to be more forgiving of Draco's past than many of the other Weasleys evidently were. Obviously, Draco hadn't been pleased when he first joined with St. Mungo's and Bill had been his starter patient (due to the low-severity and low-risk for worsening symptoms), but Bill had insisted. Later conversations revealed that Bill wanted everyone in the wizarding community to try to work together, despite past conflicts. While Draco thought that the sentiment was... touching, he still would have preferred to not see a mostly-naked Bill Weasley once every few months. It was getting rather boring, anyways, as Bill had been coming for years, and still there had been few changes. He still had a thing for rather raw meat, and his personality sort of shifted a bit during the full moon, but hardly anything to worry about.
Bill shook his head, "None that I've noticed."
Draco put the clipboard at his side. "None that you've noticed?"
"No," Bill repeated. "I mean... Fleur says that I've been more active in my sleep but..."
"What kind of active?" Draco asked, for once hoping that something interesting was happening with his appointment with Bill.
Bill fiddled with his ponytail for a moment. "She says I've been walking in my sleep a bit. Sometimes she'll wake up to find me in the kitchen eating from the fridge, sometimes she says I'll just be standing in the backyard. I don't remember any of it, though. Just a bout of sleep walking, though, nothing to be worried about. If I haven't become all furry on a full moon by now, I think this is just coincidental..."
The way Bill was rambling, Draco knew that his wife no doubt had forced him to bring up the sleepwalking during their visit. Although he didn't want to spend any more time with the Weasley than he already was, he had to agree with Fleur - it was probably something to look into.
"It could be coincidental, it might not," Draco said. Although he was keeping a professional demeanour, it wasn't always so easy for him to do so. Sometimes he dealt with patients who were completely off their rocker, and it drove Draco nuts. He knew that being a Healer probably wasn't the best career path he could have chosen, but he just wanted to. He almost felt as if he had something to prove. "The fact that you don't remember any of this..."
"Means that it's sleepwalking. Just because I don't remember doesn't mean I'm turning all werewolf-y. If it did, wouldn't it only occur during a full moon?" Bill demanded, his voice getting a little heated.
"Do your cravings for raw meat only occur during a full moon?" Draco retorted, a little impatiently. Bill didn't reply, so Draco assumed it was permission to continue. "It is possible this could have something to do with the attack. I think our best course of action is to do a sleep trial and have you stay until one of your sleepwalking episodes and then we can better monitor what the reasons could be."
Good, professional. Perhaps Draco was getting better at it than he thought. He always assumed that his name and his attitude were the two reasons why he wasn't further at St. Mungo's than he was. His name he couldn't change, but his attitude? Well, that he could adjust... at least, while at work. Draco was good at the diagnosis and healing of patients, not so much the social side. Most of the time he wished he could just hire someone for that aspect.
"This is ridiculous. It's been a good few years since my accident. I'm not getting werewolf tendencies now," Bill continued, stubbornly.
"And you're probably right," Draco replied, almost through clenched teeth. What was so difficult about him just agreeing to the sleep trial and seeing the results after? If he was so convinced it was nothing, then he shouldn't have to worry about doing it. "The sleep trial will tell us that. So do you want to or not?"
Bill's blue eyes stared at Draco for several moments, almost as if he was trying to stare him down. Draco tried not to make the connection with dogs trying to keep eye contact to assert dominance. It certainly wouldn't help Bill's situation. Finally, Bill gave in and agreed. Draco set up an appointment for a private sleep trial, and Draco watched Bill, a pregnant-looking Fleur, and a little blonde girl. Draco tried to keep his thoughts distant. As much as he wasn't exactly fond of the Weasley family, and certainly hoped that the diagnosis wouldn't be bad.
By the time Draco's shift was over, he was exhausted. He didn't get emergency patients yet, so he had to stick with dealing with non-emergencies and upkeep of other patients, as long as they weren't dire. He was sick of being treated like he didn't know what he was doing. It wasn't just that people were treating him like he didn't know what he was doing, but also because no one seemed to want to see him get any better. He was glad to rid himself of his coat and change into normal clothing. He knew his flat would be cleared back up again, for which he was grateful. He knew he probably would be looking for a new place if he were a Muggle. He still didn't understand how they got along without magic. How were there even people without magic? It seemed like an evolutionary advantage to have magic. Were Muggles just not as evolved?
He mused himself with the thought as he Apparated into the street. He then entered the invisible hallway through the Muggle shop to read his apartment building. He used the lift to get to his floor. He had appreciated the fact that Astoria had allowed him to stay the night the night before, although he knew he hadn't expressed himself properly. He had went to thank her, but the words just hadn't come out. It was the first neighbour of his that actually did something useful for him, other than knocking on his door to ask if he wanted to get a beer at a Muggle pub and prod fun at them. He hadn't known the majority of his building had been a bunch of halfwits. He had merely been looking for a place close to work, and since Pansy lived in the building, she had told him there had been an opening so he had went for it.
Granted, a three bedroom was too big for him and him alone. He hadn't wanted anything too big. He knew he could have stayed with his parents, but figured that it was time to cut the umbilical cord. He stayed close with them, but kept a reasonable distance all the same. Part of him hadn't forgiven them for what they had put him through. It was immature, but it was still there. He loved them for protecting him in the end, but it hadn't changed the fact that they had offered him up for a clearly impossible task. He was so split on the issue that it hurt, and he tried to not think about it.
Draco took out his wand and waved it over his door, releasing all the locks in place. He opened the door, and the moment he did, a body pressed into his as arms wrapped around his neck. Instinctively, he thought it was Astoria. The moment he thought such a thing, he shook his head... where did that thought come from? He had spoken to her twice. Granted, the one time he spent the night at her place, but that's because he had no other choice. The only reason he thought it was her was because she had been the only dark-haired female had had spoken to for the past few days. Nothing more.
"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, lightly detaching himself from Pansy's grip. "I thought you were still gone with your parents for another week?"
"I came back to surprise you!" Pansy exclaimed, happily. Her black hair was up in a high, sporty ponytail, although she looked tired. He looked at the clock. She no doubt was expecting him back hours ago, but she knew as well as he did that his work schedule was sporadic, and most of the time, he couldn't even predict when he would be working. Luckily, she was actually quite reasonable about it. "Well, I actually came back last night, but when I showed up here, the place was flooded out. Where did you stay?"
"With a neighbour," Draco answered. "Would you like something to drink?"
He sauntered over to the kitchen sleepily. Without even thinking, he managed to grab a few cups out of the cupboard and began to brew them tea.
"You know any of the neighbours?" she asked.
"No, I knocked until someone would let me crash on their house," he explained as he waited for the water to boil.
"So who did? Mr. Matherson no doubt, the man absolutely adores you," she continued. Draco had to admit, she was extremely perky after her trip. Usually she was just as mellow as he was. He supposed the trip did her well, although her rambling was giving him a little bit of a headache. He supposed this vacation-high would disappear in a few days.
"I guess Daphne's little sister lives here. She let me stay on her couch," he said, calmly. The water boiled, so he filled the mugs with it. Silence followed his statement, but he didn't look up. Instead, he focused on stirring everything together, pressing the tea bags against the sides of the cups to get as much flavour out of them as possible, and then throwing the used bags into the trash. When he gave Pansy her drink, he could practically see the internal battle going on. She was jealous. Great. "How was your vacation?"
Draco knew Pansy wasn't going to initiate an argument about him staying at Astoria's. If there was anything he had learned about Pansy in the almost decade of knowing her was that she would do anything to please him. In some cases, he was grateful. In others, it was annoying. Sometimes, showing a little jealousy was acceptable. In this case, it would have been perfectly acceptable. Astoria was good looking. He had never talked about her before. He had stayed at her place when Pansy was out of country. All the reasons why someone should be jealous were there, but Pansy didn't take it. She instead focused her attention on telling Draco all about her vacation. Draco replied to her stories animatedly, but one part of him had hoped that perhaps she would have shown something. Something that showed that she would be worried about losing him. Draco cared for Pansy, that was true. Hell, he had even grown to love her. Sometimes, though, it felt like something was missing.
He drank tea with her and stayed up a good part of the night welcoming her home. As they laid naked under silk sheets on their bed with her head on his chest, he stroked her hair out of her face while she slept. What difference did it make that all the pieces with them didn't fit together perfectly? What relationship did? Draco couldn't help but wonder why he cared if she got jealous or not. How many guys wouldn't kill to have a girl who never got jealous? Besides, she did, but she didn't vocalize it. Did that not make it better? Pansy had stuck with him through it all, and that was more than Draco could say about almost anyone else outside of family.