7
Lucius and the Shrink—Chapter 2
Lucius and Severus tramped out of the lift together, Lucius leading the way, neither one speaking. They entered Dr. Tate's waiting room, where the receptionist glanced up and smiled at Snape in the most welcoming way she could manage with those murderous black orbs piercing her soul. It felt unnerving, and somehow sensual at the same time.
"Hello, I'm Veronica." Severus returned a blank, unwavering stare. "Dr. Tate is expecting you."
"I should hope so, seeing as he asked for my presence," Snape clipped, crossing his arms over his chest.
Trying to loosen him up, she confided, "Mr. Malfoy calls me 'Pet'."
Severus turned to Lucius, who grimaced while rolling his eyes. "I call her Pest. By now you've probably deduced why."
"I'm surprised you haven't transfigured her into a dancing monkey," said Snape dryly. Then he added, as though he'd just recalled, "Oh, wait. That was me!"
"Oh, give it a rest, Snape, that was twenty years ago. Hold a grudge much?" Lucius looked imperiously over at the closed office door, then back to Veronica. "Are we to be kept waiting like peons?"
"That sounds dirty," Veronica said, stifling a giggle. She pressed a button on the intercom and said, "Dr. Tate, Mr. Malfoy is here with Mr. Snape." There was a muffled, unintelligible reply before Veronica motioned with her hand at the men. "Go on in."
"Brace yourself," Lucius warned for the third time, opening the door slightly. "This Muggle fool's 'office'—and I use the term lightly—"
"I think I'll manage," answered Severus, pushing him through the door and closing it with a resounding slam.
To Severus' dismay, Lucius hadn't been exaggerating. If it hadn't been pointed out that this was an office, he'd have suspected an opium den. The thick curtains were drawn so that the sunlight trying to enter filtered through in one pitiful stream at the corner of the room, illuminating airborne dust particles like billowing smoke. Another divan had been set up opposite the first, with only the doctor's chair facing them, and Dr. Tate was already planted in his seat. There was no evidence of books or desk or trembling children, or anything he associated with an office. Lucius, used to the routine, ambled over and lay down on one divan. Severus, his mouth puckered into a pout, walked jerkily over and stood next to the other.
"Hello, Lucius," said Dr. Tate. He thrust a hand at Malfoy, trying to shake hands, but Lucius shoved his firmly in his pockets and pretended not to notice the attempt.
"It's Mr. Malfoy," retorted Lucius automatically. Why couldn't this twat get it right? The Muggle ponce seemed incapable of addressing him properly, despite the number of times he'd corrected him. He idly wondered if he could sneak his wand in, just for a simple little spell to make the fool grovel as was only appropriate. And maybe to make him forget all about these silly sessions…
Dr. Tate ignored it. Eventually Lucius would come to see that he was being friendly and reciprocate. That's how the world worked, right? "Hello. You must be Severus." He extended his hand again, to no avail.
Snape's black eyes bored a virtual hole through the doctor's skull. "I don't know if I must be, but I am."
"Won't you sit down?" invited the doctor.
"Had you provided chairs, that would be easier to accomplish," answered Snape.
Lucius looked at his friend. "I understand your reluctance to use the sofa, I felt the same at first. However, it's actually quite cozy, and with the stress I'm under it feels good to relax."
"I'll forego the pleasure, thank you." Severus sat squarely in the middle of the divan, feet firmly planted on the floor.
Dr. Tate removed a thick file from the small table beside his chair and flipped through it, then produced a ballpoint pen. "I've asked Lucius to bring you in for a joint session because he speaks of you often." He peered at a note on his pad. "Oh, I see you were court ordered as well."
"You can read. Good for you," drawled Snape.
Mocking. Dresses all in black—possible Goth,wrote Dr. Tate. "So, Severus, how are you doing today?"
Heinously long, awkward pause. "How am I doing what?"
"Your health, and so on," said Tate. When he received no answer after an even longer, strained silence, he said, "Well, let's get on with the session. Do you still work with Lucius?"
"No."
"I already told you that. The dark lord is dead," interrupted Lucius. Then, with a hint of anxiety, "Please tell me he's really dead this time, Severus."
Lucius fears deceased father may come back from the grave, scribbled Tate.
Severus sighed audibly. "Potter claims all the horcruxes are gone. Then again, Potter is hardly a paragon of reliability. He did leave me to die in that bloody shack."
Mention of potter again…recurring theme…perhaps suffered some form of sexual-ceramic trauma at the hands of a pot maker…or possibly a serial killer.
"I'm sorry, Severus, could you expound on that last comment?" asked Tate, interest piqued.
Snape gave such a vicious sneer it almost passed as baring of the teeth.
"He can be verbose, believe me. Grandiloquent, even," said Lucius.
"Look who's talking, Mr. Bombastic Prat," answered Severus, his sneer not budging.
Tate jumped in with, "Severus, I'd really like to foster a productive environment here. If you could answer my last question…"
Not caring to go into the whole Shrieking Shack incident, which frankly creeped him out to think about, Severus enunciated clearly as if for a particularly thick student, "We. No. Longer. Work. For. Voldemort—who, as we have previously established, is quite dead." Then, in case the psychiatrist hadn't got the point, he added, "We're no longer Death Eaters."
Evasive. Admits to partnering with Lucius in torturing animals. Used to work for Lucius' father. "What was your job with the elder Mr. Malfoy?"
Giving a strange look, Snape answered, "I was a Potions master and healer."
Thinks he's a shaman. Does look Native American.
"Don't forget double agent," interjected Lucius, who lay with his eyes closed.
"And spy for two of the worst megalomaniacs this world has ever seen," said Snape wearily.
From his couch Lucius piped up, "He also brought the prophecy to the dark lord, the one that caused the whole second war that almost destroyed the world."
"Really, Lucius? You want to go there?" snapped Severus.
Shared delusion of spying for superpowers and causing Second World War.
"We're here to…actually, I'm not sure why we're here, but it seems the logical place to air our grievances," said Lucius defensively.
"You're here to work on personal growth and development," said Tate.
Lucius curled his lip at the doctor, then ignored him completely. "As I was saying, if you'd kept your mouth shut instead of trying to ingratiate yourself with the dark lord, we might have avoided a lot of pain."
"You're the one who told me to make myself useful, as I recall," Severus shot back. "Being tortured for inaction isn't my idea of a picnic." He crossed his arms and glared at Malfoy, who stared back, unfazed.
Dr. Tate observed the wizards briefly. For best friends, they sure had a lot of animosity boiling under the surface. "So to summarize, Severus brought a horoscope to your father, Lucius, and it angered him. I'm a little fuzzy on how this began World War II."
Lucius and Severus both turned to look at the psychiatrist with confused disgust. How in the world had he gotten that from what was said? At length Severus said, "I see what you mean, Lucius. I pity you being handed such a vicious punishment."
"Don't forget demeaning," said Lucius.
"It goes without saying, which is why I failed to say it." Severus stood up and smoothed down his robe. "I'm leaving."
"I'm afraid you can't do that," Dr. Tate said, tapping his pen on the stack of papers in the file. "You've been ordered to appear here and help Mr. Malfoy work through his issues—not to mention your own desperate need for counseling."
Snape's eyes narrowed to black slits. "I believe it's your job to sort out Malfoy's issues. And I have no need of your prattling drivel, nor what passes for therapy."
Confrontational. Resists help. "On the contrary, I've never met anyone more in need," said Tate. He barely dodged the box of tissues slung at his head—had Severus been able to find anything closer to a blunt instrument, he'd have been tempted to use it.
"Severus, did you hear that?" exclaimed Lucius, sitting up gleefully. "He finally called me Mr. Malfoy! I'm making an impact after all."
"He's supposed to be treating you, Lucius, not the other way round," Snape explained, rolling his eyes. He did, however, slump back onto the divan. Unless he endured this session, he'd be in trouble with the Ministry. Heaven knew he'd endured far worse in his life than listening to a fool babble on. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"
"That's the spirit," Tate replied, smiling. "Let's go back to the bit about the horoscope—"
"It was a prophecy, you dimwit," Snape barked. "Do you even know what we are?"
"Why don't you tell me," said Tate, anxiously bending over his notepad.
"Lest you forget, we invoke the doctor/patient privilege," Severus prefaced his comment. "Lucius and I are powerful wizards, we don't mingle in this Muggle world unless necessary, and we were only forced to come to you as punishment for crimes committed while in the wizarding world."
That felt good to get off his chest. He wasn't used to speaking his mind so plainly, what with the need for constant secrecy and all. The doctor furrowed his brows and tilted his head.
Illusions of grandeur.
"Lucius mentioned being a witch—er, wizard. Sorry, Lucius," said Tate.
The other grunted a distracted, "Mr. Malfoy."
Tate went blithely on, "I've heard tell that witch doctors make potions, I just didn't make the connection until now. So the both of you are witch doctors?"
Again Snape's bone-chilling stare. "We're wizards. We do magic. Can your infinitesimal brain process that?"
A few more scribbles on the paper, and Tate looked up at him. "So you're magicians."
"Told you," Lucius sang in a tiny voice, glancing sidelong at the doctor, then Snape.
Severus threw up his hands in exasperation. "I don't think I can be any clearer. Let me just say that Longbottom and Weasley have nothing on you, Dr. Tate. I'm leaving, even if it means they throw me in Azkaban. Nothing is worth this." He headed to the door and halted. "Lucius, I apologize for the cruel taunting when you described your fate to me. I had no idea." He swooped out of the room and past the front desk with Dr. Tate calling after him and Veronica staring stupidly.
Tate turned slowly to Lucius, who was sitting up now. "Is Severus always so temperamental?"
"Sadly, yes." Lucius heaved a martyr-like sigh. How dare Snape escape these stupid sessions when he had to stay behind? "He's like a brother to me, but he can be a drama queen." He smirked at the thought of Severus hearing that remark.
"Well, it looks like it's just us," said Tate, turning around in his chair. "Last time we left off with your sister-in-law." He consulted his notes. "Bellatrix."
Lucius grimaced involuntarily. "Yes. That slutty little harpy joined forces with the dark lord to make my life hell."
Sister-in-law having affair with father. "Why don't you tell me about her."
"How much time do you have?" asked Lucius, settling down onto the sofa again. "If she weren't my wife's sister, I might have tried harder to kill her….er, I mean to beat her in dueling. The troglodyte had a sadistic streak a mile wide—and don't even get me started on her trashy clothes…."