Thank Merlin for small miracles
Walking into St. Mungo’s, Draco gave a sigh of relief. What had once been his punishment had become his sanctuary, and after the weekend he had-he needed it. Another 48 hours of his mother tutting that he was unwed. Hours of her staring at him with concern. Narcissa meant well. After going through a war and watching her husband be slaughtered, she just wanted happiness for her only son. However, that happiness would not happen with Astoria Greengrass, or her sister Daphne. Nor Pansy, Millicent, Susan, or even the petite French blonde who’s name Draco couldn’t remember. All of the girls were nice, except maybe Pansy, but Draco wasn't interested in a society wife. What is the muggle saying? Break the case or package or mold or whatnot? He already worked for a living, he might as well totally sully the Malfoy name by never marrying and producing heirs. The only thing that gave him second thought was the look in Mother’s eyes when he visited her villa every other weekend.
“Good morning Sunshine”, Theo greeted him in the staff lounge. Despite it being 7 am on a Monday, Theo looked extremely well rested. His eyes were bright with whatever he was about to pepper Draco with. Draco sighed, this time with exasperation. He loved his friend, but he hadn’t had enough coffee for this yet.
“Good morning Theo,” Draco said dryly, while we stirred one cream into his drink. He had the same routine everyday. Come in, make his coffee, grab his stethoscope, and find the patient list for the day. He was the only one in St. Mungo’s that carried a stethoscope, so he always knew where to find it. Almost a decade ago, after he finished his house arrest, he was assigned a very particular task.
During the war, it was realized that muggles had made significant advancements in medical care, and it was Draco’s job to integrate parts of it into Wizard healing. He did 2 years in muggle medical school, 2 years of healer education, and then he was assigned 2 years of practicing as a physician/healer hybrid. This line up was one of many facets of the “Great Rehabilitation ” the Ministry liked to call it. Many people who were on the “wrong side” of the war were involved. The idea was to teach these people the value of muggles, and then muggle borns by default. Being rehabilitated was much easier when you actually harbored no ill will towards muggles, Draco thought, but that was something he kept to himself. It always caused him stress to know that if the Ministry deemed his “punishment” ineffective or unneeded, they could always assign him a new one.
Theo fell in step beside him. “I had just the BEST weekend”, he said with a dreamy look on his face. “I got clearance for an international port key and went to Bora Bora. It was glorious. All sun, all fun, and no shame. You have to go one day when you figure out a way to keep your skin from turning into a sad, burnt crisp.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “That already exists Theo. It’s a muggle thing. They call it sunscreen. Comes in a little bottle and it smells like dittany”.
“How do muggles know what dittany smells like?” Theo asked with confusion on his face. For one of the brightest healers Draco had ever met, Theo was regularly short a few jelly beans of a box. Draco had seen him bring wizards back from the brink of death with spells he had invented on a whim, and then spray himself in the face with a hose. It honestly gave him whiplash.
The patient list was posted on the clinic ward door. Draco had three new appointments for the morning, and then rounds after lunch. A glance at Theo’s schedule told him he had a similar lot. Theo’s current specialty was hybrid care. This was after the years he spent treating dark curses, the two months on Janus Thickey, and the year in mind healing. If Draco had to guess based on the time of the month, his morning appointments were newly turned werewolves. Draco frowned. He’d seen the very worst the wizarding world had to offer, and yet the evil of it still sometimes surprised him.
His first patient was waiting for him in exam room 4. He made a quick glance at the chart before he walked in. Amy Watkins, 31 years old witch. Complaints of decreased magical reserves, fatigue, and headache for 6 weeks. Referred to him by her primary healer after ruling out every magical malady possible. No health history other than the uneventful birth 3 years ago.
“Good morning, Mrs. Watkins”, Draco said as he walked into the room. He performed a quick sanitation charm on his hands and stethoscope and put on gloves. “I’ve read through your chart, but could you give me a quick sum up of what brought you here today?”
“Sure”, she said like she was eager to get it off her chest, “A couple of months ago it was my son’s third birthday. I was inflating balloons and I suddenly just felt exhausted. It was like I had been casting spells and running for days. I had to have my husband finish with the decorations. The next day I was fine, and I sort of forgot about it. A few days later, while I was at work, I came down with a terrible headache. The worst I’ve ever had! I went home and laid down, and it went away. This has been happening back and forth ever since. Exhaustion then headache and then exhaustion again.”
“Wow, that sounds really stressful”, Draco said generically while he wrote. He put his quill down to look her in the eyes. “I’m assuming you went to your healer about this?”
“Yeah of course. She performed a diagnostic spell and found nothing. She did a more complex one on just my head. That also came up clear. She sent me to get a second opinion. He couldn’t find anything, so he suggested I come here”. She said the last sentence in a rush, like just thinking about it caused her stress. Draco didn’t blame her honestly.
“Well, I’m glad he sent you to me. In case no one told you, my specialty is wizarding ailments with muggle causes. I’m very confident that is the cause of your symptoms. Would it be okay if I went over your treatment plan with you?” Draco always made sure to explain himself. When he first started, he discovered that the magical community was wildly distrustful of him. This didn’t shock him, but sometimes it would still hurt. What surprised him was how against muggle diseases/treatments the community was. Even after Draco proved himself to be competent (and not the next Dark Lord) witches and wizards still sometimes regarded his specialty as “mumbo jumbo”.
“Yeah I guess that sounds okay. At this point I would do anything to get this taken care of. I need to go back to being exhausted just because I have a toddler”, she said with a laugh.
Draco chuckled politely. “Well alright then. I’m going to do a diagnostic spell I invented. I’d bet my wand that it won’t tell me anything other than where to start. After that I’m going to send you to my assistant. He’ll draw some blood from you, and we’ll send it to the lab. Those results will determine what we do next. Lastly, I’m going to give you some homework. The next time you feel the exhaustion or lack of magic, I want you to owl me. I’ll need exactly what time it started, and what you were doing. After that, when the headache comes, I want you to owl me again, and apparate here immediately. When I receive your owl, I’ll apparate here as well. There are some tests I want to do while you have the symptoms. I don’t care if it's midnight, I’ll get here to you. Do you understand?”
“I can definitely do that. Thank you so much healer Malfoy. I know you’re going to make me good as new!”