Healing

Authors Note: Per usual I need to give first mention to my prompt and clever beta Alexandra. She\'s been such a help, offering to extend her beta powers to all my new fics. For any of you who haven\'t noticed (which are few now I think) there are 4 news stories, including this one, which I am updating regularly. This one is doing a fair job at holding my attention so far, I even wrote myself into it. lol. I quite like being a magical fiction character. lol. I hope, Winter.Poem, that you like the development so far, and I hope the rest of you enjoy it as well!



Chapter 2 Clientele



Harry winced against the sunlight flooding through the windows into his eyes. He blinked and felt disoriented. His entire back was a dull ache and he didn’t know why. He looked around and realized at once he wasn’t at home.



Immediately on guard, Harry peered around the room, trying not too move much. The walls were industrial exposed brick, and the floors were a lacquered red wood. He seemed to be lying on a sofa in the middle of a sitting area. To his immediate left and right were two low slung black Barcelona chairs and in front of him was a giant plasma screen television.



Muggle flat.



The events of the night before caught up with him at once. The muggle fetish club, Mary and her whip and… Draco Malfoy. He groaned to himself and tried to sit up and regretted the decision. How did he get here last night? Who took him home? Did anything else happen?



His tee shirt and glasses were on the glass and chrome end table beside him, but he could see just fine.



Odd.



He blinked to reassure himself, and yes, he could see everything, clear as day. He attempted to sit up again, and was more successful the second time. He winced as he tried to stretch, his back aching furiously. Looking over his shoulder he saw bandages. Harry sighed and stood up, waiting for someone to come in and check on him at any moment.



No one did.



In fact, the flat seemed very much empty. Harry walked into the adjacent kitchen and held his head under the tap, gulping down the water and then standing up and raking it through his hair, letting damp black tendrils fall around his face.



There was nothing in the flat so far to show who stayed there, no photos or anything. Harry padded through the loft and found a bathroom. He walked in letting the door click shut behind him and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He winced at the amount of bandages on his back and began pulling them away.



His skin didn’t look as bad as he anticipated. There were jagged lines of raised welts, but no blood, and nothing still open to bleed. Someone had healed him.



Malfoy.



But why would he do that? He had been the one to inflict the injuries in the first place. Maybe Mary made him, was she a witch? She must have been, as Draco would never be on first name basis with a muggle.



Maybe it was Mary who healed him and maybe this was her flat?



Harry opened the medicine cabinet. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it wasn’t loaded up with girlie products. There was a bit of hair product, some over the counter drugs, a razor and cologne.



It was definitely a man’s bathroom.



But maybe it wasn’t the only one. Maybe Mary and Draco were a couple and this was their place.



Too many maybes and not enough proof. Either way he had no real wish to find out for sure. He crumbled up the bandages and threw them into the small garbage can beside the toilet.



He went back to the living room, grabbed his tee shirt and stuffed his glasses into his pocket. Inside the same pocket his wand was still there and in tact. He had been a dullard not to think of that first.



So it wasn’t Malfoy who brought him here, then. He would have stolen or at least snapped Harry’s wand, of that he was certain.



Another thing caught his attention in the pocket, a stiff piece of paper. He pulled it out and flipped it over and over between his fingers.



A business card.



It was plain and white with emerald green text that read simply ‘Pain Therapy Intl.’ in block font and then an address and a phone number. He slid the business card back into his pocket, pulled on his shirt and left the mysterious flat, apparating home.



--



Harry fell into bed the very instant he got home, but couldn’t sleep even though his mind begged for it. He could have only gotten a few hours at most in the strange loft. The memories of the war were vivid in his mind and his stomach rumbled with hunger, so he got up and went to the kitchen.



He emptied the contents of his pockets onto the kitchen table and stared again at the strange business card. While preparing a quick sandwich he debated the card. Someone must have given it to him for a reason. It had probably been that girl Mary. Harry vaguely recalled her screaming at Malfoy before he lost consciousness.



After finishing his sandwich he picked up the phone from its cradle on his desk and dialed.



“Thank you for calling Pain Therapy International, how may I direct your call?” asked the small feminine voice on the other line.



Harry paused and almost hung up, but decided to see what he could find out. “I’m not sure really. I was given a card and wanted to know what it was you did there,” He asked, not even sure what he should be asking for.



“What did the person who handed you the card say we did?” she asked suspiciously.



“They didn’t say,” he huffed.



“Who gave you the card?” she asked, even more suspiciously.



“I… I don’t know. I just found it in my pocket when I woke up this morning,” he said honestly. Harry blinked several times wondering why he was even telling the receptionist so much information.



“Ah,” she said at once, as if that explained everything, and perhaps it did. “Would you like to set up an appointment? I have an opening at three this afternoon?” she asked.



It must have been Mary, she must have warned the girl on the phone to look out for a call from him. “Um… okay. Sure.”



“Excellent. I have you down for three today. See you then, Mr. Potter,” she finished abruptly.



“How do you know my name?” he asked panicked, but he was only answered by dial tone.



Harry was frustrated by the cryptic turn his life had taken over the last several hours. He should have just stayed clear of that muggle club.



--



Sterile



That was the best way to describe the office in which he was standing. It actually wasn’t an office, but a lobby. It looked like every receiving area for a muggle doctor’s office he had ever visited—bright white walls, plush gray carpet and a few generic paintings of seashores and sailboats.



He hadn’t known what to expect, but for some reason this wasn’t it. He couldn’t imagine Mary working in a place like this. In fact, he didn’t know why he was here at all besides the fact that this mystery gave him something new to think about.



Harry was the only one in the lobby so he walked up to the empty receptionist’s desk and rang the tiny silver bell.



After a moment a door on the adjacent wall opened and a petite woman walked it. She looked to be in her mid twenties. Her hair was a dark chocolate brown and cut in a short style that angled to sharp points at the end, forming a ‘v’ around her face and covering most of her right eye. She was pale, and her makeup was simple, only a dark shimmering shadow on her eyelids, which caused to accentuate her nude lips.



She wore a dark gray fitted blouse over a tight black pencil skirt and her black buckled wedges clicked on the tile behind her desk. He golden brown eyes narrowed as she approached Harry. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked. Her voice held a tiny hint of a British accent, which meant she was probably originally from elsewhere, but lived here long enough to adopt it.



“Yes, Harry Potter,” he replied.



“Card?” she asked, looking slightly skeptical that he was in fact Harry Potter.



He rummaged in his pockets for the crisp white business card. Once he found it she was already sitting at the desk typing away. He held up the card for her to take, but she didn’t notice, still typing at her computer. He tapped it against the linoleum counter and absently looked around the lobby while he waited for her to acknowledge him again.



After a moment his attention was pulled down to the cool hand holding his own still and he looked up to find the receptionist glaring at him. “Don’t,” she said sternly.



He looked at her incredulously. “What? Am I going to break the counter?” he asked sarcastically.



“No,” she replied, going back to her computer. “It’s just annoying.”



Harry laughed. She was a spitfire. She must have been a muggle, because most witches, even the foreign ones knew who he was from his trademark scar and treated him with unearned admiration right off.



“So, would you like to get a drink sometime?” Harry asked her, feeling bold.



She rolled her eyes and continued to type. “I don’t drink,” she responded at last, after Harry refused to stop looking at her.



“Coffee then?” he tried again.



She looked up with disdain then turned back to her monitor. After he refused to look away again she calmly held up her left hand, revealing a thick tungsten ring with delicate engravings on her ring finger. “Married,” she muttered.



Harry sighed. Most women her age were it seemed. “As friends then. It’s not often I meet someone who doesn’t know who I am.”



She rolled her eyes and continued to type. “I know who you are Mr. Potter, I just don’t care.”



He gaped at her, and then promptly shut his mouth. “What are you typing?”



She continued for a moment then folded her hand delicately in front of her and looked up. “I’m making notes to your file for the doctor.”



“What kind of notes?”



“Oh, just some observations that I’ve made since you arrived,” she said, watching his face carefully.



“What?” he exclaimed. “What did you write?”



She laughed and it was slightly wicked. “Hm… lets see, so far I have that you’re presumptuous, arrogant,” she raked her eyes across him, “and a sloppy dresser,” she replied. “I also noted that you have annoying habits that you use to distract yourself from letting your mind wander.”



“What… how…” Harry didn’t know how to respond. What kind of place was this?



She laughed lightly again and typed, this time saying it out loud as she did. “Inarticulate.”



“When am I going to be seeing… whoever it is I’m here to see?” he huffed.



“Confused and impatient,” she said while tapping at her keyboard again.



Harry was about to protest and demand she take it all back when her phone buzzed. She held the receiver to her ear nodding at once. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” she said before hanging up.



She stood and looked directly at Harry. “If you’ll please follow me, Mr. Potter,” she said as she walked back through the same door she had used to come into the lobby.



--



Behind the lobby door seemed to be a completely different building. The walls were covered in metallic textured wallpaper in a dusty silver color. The floor was a highly polished concrete that reflected their own distorted images back up at them. Ahead of Harry was a long corridor with doors on both sides that appeared to lead to several offices.



A man with a white lab coat stood in front of them at a smaller desk they would have to pass to get to the offices. “Is that really Harry Potter, Lexi?” the man asked the receptionist.



She rolled her eyes. “The one and only. Impressive isn’t he?” she added sarcastically.



The man only nodded, apparently not sharing Lexi’s lack of enthusiasm.



Lexi turned back to Harry then with her hand out. “You’ll need to surrender your wand, Mr. Potter,” she said.



Harry’s eyes widened. “What? No way. I don’t even know who I’m meeting. I might need it.”



She laughed her wicked laugh again. “Oh, you’ll most certainly need it.”



The man at the desk, who Harry realized must be a security officer, tried to mediate. “I’m afraid we can’t endanger our employee’s, sir. It will be returned to you at the end of the session. You’ll either need to relinquish the wand or leave the premises.”



He thought it over for several moments, the entire time Lexi was grinning at him, probably hoping he would flee so she could make another note in his file. Finally he handed his wand over to the security officer, carefully avoiding the receptionist’s outstretched hand.



She pouted slightly but continued to lead him around the desk and down the long hall of offices. She stopped midway down the row and unlocked a door to her right and ushered Harry in. Once inside she promptly closed the door and locked it behind her, leaving Harry all alone.



The room was small, just a desk and chair and a smaller chair across from it. The room itself was in stark contrast to the corridor outside, all modern and metallic. This looked more like a small study, plush and comfortable, with rich woods and soft fabrics.



Harry took a seat in the smaller chair and waited… for what he still wasn’t sure.



When the door finally did open, the person standing in the doorway was the last man he had expected to see. Wearing expensive black robes over a dark gray suit was none other than Draco Malfoy.



Authors Note: Instead of holding Faeries for ransom I\'m holding chapters. mwuahahah. taps fingertips together and cackles wickedly