Draco closed the door behind Harry Potter and allowed himself to relax at last. He sighed, tiredly, removed his glamour, and walked back into his office where he could go over Harry's paperwork and write notes about their session.

It had been an odd first session. Usually, he asked the client about their life, their feelings, their family, etc. But Harry Potter had not come in of his own volition… Draco had already broken one rule. There was also the issue that he knew Harry personally, that they had been childhood rivals who despised each other. He wasn't supposed to treat people he knew… though he had broken that rule before. He was the only therapist who also happened to be a wizard with experience in the war against Voldemort. This made him special, in a way, and he felt it was his duty to help survivors. But treating Harry Potter was something more altogether. He knew he was venturing into an ethically grey area. Yet, if he didn't help Harry, who would?

Draco finished writing his notes and filed them away in the bottom drawer of his desk. Then he opened the top drawer, took out a glass and a bottle of firewhiskey, and poured himself a drink.

It would all be fine. All he had to do was remain objective, or, at least, as objective as any therapist could be with any of their clients.

The alarm blared at 6AM, and Draco promptly shut it off before going through his morning routine. He had learned a long time ago that routines were his friend. He showered, got dressed, ate the breakfast his house elves had prepared for him, read the Daily Prophet, made calls, checked up on his various investments, and was in his office by 9AM, half an hour before his first appointment of the day.

"Good morning, Dr. Miller. I wrote down your messages and left them on your desk."

"Thank you, Ms. Diggins."

Bells Diggins had been Draco's receptionist for almost two years now. She had a short blond bob, cat-eye glasses, and an uncanny ability to keep Draco's affairs organized, despite being unable to do the same for herself.

"Oh, and your mother called. She said I couldn't write down her message and that I had to tell you personally."

Draco frowned. Why was his mother using muggle means of communication? And why didn't she simply knock on his bedroom door? They both lived in the Manor, after all.

"Please write it down for me, and send it to my office via paper plane."

"Yes, doctor."

Draco went to his office, took out his notes for his next patient, and refreshed his memory.

Ah, yes. Mr. M, a high-profile wizard who always wore a different glamour when he came to see Draco. The blond rolled his eyes. It didn't matter. His gait, posture, height, and manner of speaking all told Draco that it was Seamus Finnigan, a Hogwarts alum and Gryffindor through and through. As far as Draco was concerned, Finnigan no longer needed therapy, but the man insisted on coming once a month to chat. It was obvious that he considered Draco to be a friend and didn't want to give that up, even if it meant having to pay for a session every now and then. Draco had often explained to the man why they could not be friends, and why they needed to maintain a professional relationship, but Finnigan continued to show up every month with a bottle of expensive rum that the blond was ethically obligated to turn down.

A paper airplane slid under his office door. Draco waved his wand, and the paper unfolded itself and landed on his desk.

Draco, I've instructed your assistant to tell this to you directly because it is of a sensitive nature. I have found a few items of your great uncle's in the attic, stowed away behind a rather large ottoman. I won't be home for a few days so that you can deal with the situation on your own. Stay out of trouble.

Mother

Lovely. That could only mean that dark artifacts were found. He no longer had any connections in the Auror department, so how on earth would he get rid of these items both safely and discretely?

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in." Ms. Diggins walked in with Mr. M, who smiled brightly before sitting down in an armchair that he must have considered to be his own by now. "Thank you, Ms. Diggins."

He vanished the note Diggins had written and moved to sit across from Mr. M.

"'Ello, Doctor. I 'ave great news today."

Draco smiled. Finnigan might get annoying, but it still pleased him to see his clients happy.

"Do tell, Mr. M."

"Dean proposed. We're gettin' married in jus' three months." The man grinned from ear to ear as he told the news. "We're movin' 'round 'ere, too, so if you ever want, you can stop over fer dinner."

Draco frowned this time.

"M, please. You know that it would ruin our therapist/client relationship if-"

"Yeah, I know. That's why I'm firin' ya. Ye've said it yerself, I'm fine. If I need therapy in the future, I'll find someone else." Finnigan removed his glamour. "See? It's all out in the open. I'm Seamus Finnigan. Nice to meet ya, Dr. Miller. Now, will ya please come ta my weddin' that is only possible because you someone managed to help me figger out which way was up again?"

The blond couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright. But I must keep my glamour, and I won't be stopping by for dinner in the future."

"But ye'll come ta my weddin'."

"If I'm officially fired, then yes. I'd love to be there."

Finnigan somehow managed to grin even wider than before.

"Fantastic! Bring Ms. Diggins too. I wouldn't want ya ta be bored."

"That's very kind of you. I will do just that."

The two men spent the rest of the hour discussing ideas for Finnigan's honeymoon, and once their time was up, Draco refused to accept payment. After all, his most improved patient had fired him at last. How could he charge the man for that?

His next patient was young woman who had very recently graduated from Hogwarts. Her name was Cassandra Gil Osle, and she was of Spanish decent. She suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder which often made her depressed, anxious, and resulted in her impulsive cutting. Draco liked her, but worried constantly about her lack of support system.

"Hello Cassi."

"Hi."

Cassi sat down, her red hair pulled up in a messy bun. She seemed to not have put much effort in her appearance which usually meant that she wasn't doing very well.

"How are you?"

"I really hate that question." Cassi smiled and rolled her eyes. "I feel like I'm supposed to say that I'm fine all the time, but I don't really know how I am."

"Oh, please." Draco had been seeing Cassi for two years and knew her well enough to know that if she tried, she could be present and describe her feelings.

She smiled again.

"Uhm. I don't know. I'm all over the place I guess. The past two weeks have been insane. It's been like there's a hurricane happening in my head. Plus so much has happened that I just don't know what to feel. Uhm... But right now I feel anxious. And a little annoyed because I really hate that question." She crinkled her nose as him and he couldn't help but smile.

"That's good. Good."

"Yeah. It's been insane. I've had all these problems with my family, but then they were nice again, and now I'm getting a dog and I haven't applied to any jobs, so I feel like a terrible person. And I don't know. It's been a lot. I don't know."

"So not applying to a job makes you a terrible person?"

She sighed.

"Well, rationally, obviously not. But I feel like it does, even though I technically know that it doesn't. But I still feel it. Are you going to give me the therapist speech about feelings and how you have to accept them, but keep in mind that they aren't reality and blah blah...?"

Cassi was a bright young woman and liked reading about Psychology. That, plus her two years of seeing him, made her come up with quite a bit of assumptions, but they were often right.

"In a way. But I also asked so we could discuss it further. This feeling that you have that you are a terrible person, it doesn't only come up from not applying for a job."

"Well. Not exactly a terrible person, but like…stupid. I'm stupid."

"That's interesting. I've always found you rather intelligent and capable."

"Then why do I do all this? Oh, right. Because I'm depressed." She sunk back in her chair and looked at the clock. That was her anxiety showing. She tended to worry about the session ending before she could talk about everything that she wanted to discuss.

"Yes. Exactly. The depressed brain tries to make sense of its own depression and that's why you get these thoughts of inadequacy when you are in fact, smart and capable. And, fundamentally Ok."

"What does that mean? Fundamentally ok?"

"Well, in the grand scheme of things you are ok. You finished Hogwarts with good marks, you have a boyfriend, friends, etc. You are doing ok."

"I don't feel ok."

Draco frowned.

"I know you don't. And that's what we need to work on. How to get you to accept your okayness. Does the make sense?" She nodded and then gave a small laugh, this time crinkling her nose without realizing it. "What?"

"You moved that painting on the wall to where I suggested. I like that."

He gave her a soft smile. He felt a great fondness for Cassi, and her happiness, no matter how small, never failed to warm him.

During the rest of the session they discussed aspects of Cassi's disorder and general problems. He suggested that she not just get any dog, but rather a puppy. Various studies had shown that dogs help with anxiety and depression, and he suspected that one so young and helpless might also help with her low self-worth. If she could take care of another living thing and see how greatly it needed her, then maybe she could start to feel better about herself. It could backfire, but the benefits outweighed the risks.

"I can't pay you today, Dr. Miller. I forgot my money at home."

"It's fine. I'll see you next week. And remember, you aren't crazy or stupid."

Cassi smirked and said goodbye before stepping out the door. She seemed unconvinced, but Draco knew her well. She'd reflect over their meeting and aspects of it would begin to sink in.

He saw a few other patients, and then his day was done. He was free to organize his notes, his desk, and then wonder if the famous Harry Potter would actually show up for their meeting the next day. He sighed and put that thought aside. First he needed to go home and deal with the dark artifacts in his attic. No matter what he did, his past always found him.