I had always enjoyed my job as a healer at Saint Mungos. I had always found something positively wonderful, especially when my patients and their families thanked me. They were so grateful, and it was all I could do to make them well. I was never really greatful for them, though. Until I met Stella.
I had just passed by the room with the mother who was talking to her extremely wide stomach, saying, “Dear twins, GET. OUT. Love, your mother.” I chuckled. I vowed then and there to never make my love bear twins. My love. Ha. So far, I had never found the right girl. The only ones that seemed to be remotely interested in me were either shallow, extremely young, or in some cases, both.
I walked past the soon-to-be mother of twins and straight to the coffee shop on the fifth floor. There, sitting at my favorite table, was a pale, but otherwise ordinary woman, reading a book while eating a bread-raisin dish. She saw me staring at her and upturned her palms as if to say, “What?”
“Hullo,” I was able to force out.
“Do you want to, um, sit down?” the woman had a low, slightly husky voice.
What was happening to me?
I had never felt this drawn to someone. I tried to shake myself out of it. How do you even know she’s pureblood?
I asked myself. “I’m just going to go and get some coffee,” I heard myself say. I walked, as if in a trance, to stand in line with the family members of patients and other healers. My thoughts, however, came in a rush, making me feel almost dizzy. Could this be love?
Never having been a believer in love at first sight, I tried to reason what was coming over me. Maybe I had caught something from one of my patients.
Yeah, that was it.
“Sir? Um, sir, may I take your order?”
I rushed back to reality.
“Oh, er, yes, I’ll have a tall chocolate cappuccino,” I said blankly, ordering the same as I did every day. “Please,” I added as an afterthought, trying to be polite.
“That’ll be two sickles,” the teenager at the counter drawled.
I paid and snatched my Styrofoam cup. I hesitated a moment before finally joining the woman at the table, occupying the grey armchair.
She closed her book, using a page full of blue scribbles as a bookmark. “Old love note,” she explained, seeing my expression. “Only good for a bookmark. So, Healer, what’s your name?”
I hesitated a second before mumbling, “My name is Draco Malfoy.”
She looked surprised for a second, before responding, “I am Stella Hessler. I’m here for a checkup—I’m one month pregnant.”
Her words hit me like hail-- icy and painful. “Congratulations. To you and the father.”
Stella grimaced before answering. “What father? He left me, just like that. Baby and I are all alone.”
Smiling slightly, I told her, “I’d be willing to change that.”