Today was the day, he was actually going to do something other than sit in his house, and lately.. argue with his father's portrait. He got up, put his 'socializing' clothes on, slipped his Malfoy ring on the middle finger of his left hand, and an emerald stud in his right ear.  And left the house.

Some time later, and after many attempts to stall himself, as he had no appointment at all, he found himself entering St. Mungo's.  All along the way he'd thought he felt stares and heard insults aimed at him.  It had been a long while since he'd actually ventured out of his home, other than for potions ingredients, or to sell a potion or two.  So, by the time he reached St. Mungo's, he was very anxious and slightly panicky, so he made his way up to the fifth floor and entered the tearoom.

He ordered the strongest drink he could and then took it with him to sit down and calm his nerves.  Reminding himself why he had actually come today.  He had heard that the hospital was in need of someone with potions experience and while he wasn't quite to the level of most of his mentors, he was still pretty good at what he did.  And most of his expertise was with trying to find ways to make potions that would make them cost less, and cause less volatile repercussions if they were made wrong.

With a shaky hand, Draco drew the cup up to his lips and took a long drink, he wasn't completely aware of anyone else who might have been in the tearoom, having tunnel vision when he entered, so he closed his eyes and tried to focus on where he was and why he was here.  He sat the cup back down on the table and turned it slightly around as he began to calm down.

The past few weeks had been a time where healers and other hospital staff avoided Miranda Storm far more than usual. After showing what she felt was great weakness during her husband’s hospitalisation and near death, Miranda had come back harsher and colder than ever. Expect to one person. Flynn Hughes had gotten off lightly, instead getting to see a very kind and appreciative boss. Everyone else was quickly reacquainted with the ice queen and her reign of terror.

It was late morning and Miranda’s teacup had run empty along with a lack of morning snack being brought to her. Upon a yell to Snardsworthy in the outer office receiving no response, Miranda had, in irritation, gone to the door to find no one obediently sat at the desk. Further irritation had taken over when she, mug in hand, left the office and began to cross reception and climb the many stairs towards the fifth floor. Storm was used to the stairs and the effort it took to move around the hospital. She did daily rounds of each ward and floor.
She was not, however, used to fetching her own breakfast.

Staff quite literally parted ways to let the boss through, patients and visitors frowning at the witch in emerald and gold robes. When she stepped into the mildly busy café, Miranda immediately eyed the witch at the counter. She proceeded to bypass the queue and hand her mug over.

“Tea. One sugar. Not too much milk, I’m not asking for a hot milkshake.” The young witch took the mug and stared, unsure what to do. “I haven’t got all day, girl. An apple tart as well. Don’t let it touch the pumpkin ones.”
With the girl jumping to follow the healer’s order, Miranda turned her back on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. Not one person in the queue said a word about her pushing in front. They didn’t dare.

Draco, who still had his eyes closed, had heard someone enter and then order rather quickly something from the girl behind the counter.  This he opened his eyes at, it had to be someone important for them to just jump ahead in line like that and sure enough, when his eyes caught the obvious person out of the slightly busy place, he couldn't help but smirk.  Following a brief jolt of panic.

This was why he was here, but then again, the lady Storm probably would not appreciate being approached in a cafe about needing work.  Then again, how he'd heard it was that they needed people like him, so maybe he should.  He left his half-empty cup on the table and got up slowly straightening his clothes out as he did.  Taking a deep breath, he slowly approached Miranda Storm.

"Mrs. Storm, I assure you that I know you are a very busy woman." he began, mentally smacking himself, even in his head he sounded pathetic, "But if I could trouble you for a moment of your time." he finished, looking her in the eyes as if to let her see there was only seriousness in his eyes, not anything else.

Mrs Storm was not a name Miranda appreciated being referred to; especially in her own hospital where most had the respect to address her as the Head Healer, a position she’d earned with hard work.

The Head Healer, therefore, stared at Draco Malfoy, her lips pressed tightly together as he continued.

“You’ll start off on the right foot, Mr Malfoy, if you avoid addressing me as Mrs Storm. The title suggests the only thing I’ve achieved in my life is to find a husband.” Miranda was very picky about names and titles. Malfoy should be quite accustomed to that carrying around a rather infamous surname and reputation. So, despite the irksome greeting, the witch was intrigued.

“You may trouble me.” A tight lipped smile appeared just as the serving witch handed the mug, now full of hot tea, back to her boss. Joining the tea came a paper bag with a delicious warm pastry nestled inside. “Shall we sit?” Her apple tart wasn’t going to go cold; not even for the infamous Draco Malfoy.

Gulping slightly, he nodded and then led the way back to the table he'd occupied in the corner, his cup still on the saucer as he'd left it.  "Shall I call you Healer Storm then..." oh dear, here it came, the stabbing reality that he'd kept to himself for far too long, his only contacts were his house-elves, his wife (harridan), and occasionally his son and mother.  He'd avoided being in public and now he was going to pay for it here, right now, at least he was in the right place if he had a heart attack.

He sat down in the chair and waited.  He knew he was probably botching this meeting up spectacularly and was all for giving up and trying again another day until he realized that he would just be going home to an empty house with several house-elves and a hall full of ranting portraits of family members.  He cleared his throat, "I heard from someone that St. Mungo's was looking for people with expertise in potions."

There, the reason he was here, he had finally spit it out.  Now, if his leg would stop bouncing under the table and his hands would stop shaking. He tried to steady them by holding his cup, but that only made it clink against his saucer.  He really needed to get out more.

It wasn’t customary for Miranda to linger in the café, or even to venture up there, and therefore some of the staff dotted around the café, while avoiding eye contact, did glance over in confused suspicion. Miranda didn’t notice, instead seating herself opposite Malfoy at the table and studying him with a calm gaze. Her scowl from the irritation at Snardworthy’s incompetency had vanished, instead taken over by her interest in the blond wizard who now looked like her was about to do battle with a dragon. He needed to relax. The Malfoys, from what Miranda knew, were supposed to be cruel and hard, not meek and uncomfortable.

“We are.” Pale lips twisted into a small smile as she opened the small paper bag to retrieve the pastry. It was placed on top of the bag on the table and she carefully pulled a piece off. “I trust you’ve heard in the prophet that my current aim is to make this hospital self-sufficient. I want to brew the majority of potions in house, those that are possible. I need potioneers with experience and patience for that.”

She promptly placed the piece of apple tarte in her mouth and watched him carefully as she chewed.

Talking about what he loves to do most, that's what snapped him out of his panic 'everyone hates me' mode. Now here was a topic that was safe, something he could talk about even if he was half-asleep, he was confident he could still make potions perfectly.  He took a deep breath, "I have heard that, and while I admire the idea, I would have to know what would be expected of me, should I join your crew so to speak." He spoke with a little tremor, but his voice was steadily getting stronger.

"I have certain aspects of what I would expect to be in your potions area.  And you may not agree with it, but I have found ways of cutting costs of certain potions and I will not divulge the process to anyone, except those I deem worthy." It was then, Draco realized who he was talking to.  He had heard rumors about her and her fierce attitude and thought for a moment that she would not appreciate how he was talking to her.  He couldn't help the sudden glance down into his now empty cup.

"I apologize for my candor, I just have a passion for potions and..." he lost all train of thought as he looked up at her face.

The floundering polite wizard was quickly changing to fit the reputation. Nerves were betrayed by a lack of modesty and finally by an arrogance that she wasn’t sure she liked. At the mention of divulging his ideas only to the worthy, the Head Healer couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows. He was either brave or stupid. Perhaps both, she’d need time to decide. But she said nothing as he then apologised. She simply lifted her mug to her lips and took a sip of steaming freshly brewed tea.
One sugar, adequately mixed in.

He was looking at her, lost again. Miranda chose not to break the uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.

“Why are you wasting my time, Mr Malfoy?” She finally asked, not taking her sharp eyed gaze off his. Had he come up to her to ask for a job or to gloat about his ideas that she wasn’t ‘worthy’ to hear about? He needed to decide quickly because her free moment was running out and her pastry was getting cold.

“I have a passion for healing but I class no one as unworthy to receive my expertise.”

Draco finally stopped playing with the cup and set it back down on the saucer and put it to the side.  He clasped his hands together and took a deep breath.  "I am not here to waste your time, madame. I came here because the word is out that you require competent potions brewers to help the hospital.  I am one." He looked around the tiny shop before continuing, "I divorced my wife, she has my son, and all I have is a very large, empty home with no one to talk to but the elves and a bunch of old musty portraits of dead relatives that can't help but berate me on my poor life choices."

He ran a hand through his loose hair, "So here I am.  I came to offer assistance, to get a job, basically to have something to do that won't drive me insane.  Now I know that you are a busy woman, and that I have taken up too much of your time, but I feel that I could be an asset here."

Then he got to the real reason he was here, "And finally, the reason I am here is so that I can try to repair my broken name and reputation by helping people, even if it is behind the scenes.  I can't stand to have people looking at me with loathing any longer." He stopped, looked at her, and waited.  Hoping that he hadn't overstepped again and ruined his chance.

Competent potions healers, she needed. Sad stories of divorce and breaking up families, she didn’t need. As Draco Malfoy told her about his now dull and lonely life, Miranda worked on her apple tart and sipper her hot tea. It would have been preferable to do this in her office and not surrounded by people while listening to someone drone on but occasionally needs must. Draco Malfoy may be helpful to St Mungos, it made sense to wait until after the drivel about his sad little life to see what he could offer.

He got onto the real reason for being here before once more reverting to personal reasons. They didn’t impress Miranda. She placed her mug down and studied him calmly.
“I don’t care if your life is a mess Mr Malfoy, that’s not a reason to get a job here. I require staff that want to be here and want to learn and train and work hard. They go home at night exhausted because they’ve done an excellent job and undoubtedly saved or changed some lives, not because they’ve spent the day avoiding their own life.”

Pausing, the witch sighed as she considered. Malfoy needed to get his priorities right.

“What could I expect from you in my potions department, Mr Malfoy? Other than a man hiding from his problems?”

Draco thought for a moment on her question.  He didn't really think he was escaping his problems by coming here.  "Hard work and anything else required." he answered finally.  "I think I could be of use to someone."  In the back of his mind, he was thinking that he probably messed up the whole thing.  It had been an awfully long time since he'd met with someone for work.  He was used to staying home and brewing potions, or in the rare case, cooking something delicious. 

But his self-induced banishment was grating on his nerves, he liked to be a social person, it was just hard for him to get out and believe people could overlook his past and let him start rebuilding his future.  So here he was, in the best place for starting over he thought, helping people out at St. Mungo's just might be the best thing for him.

The Malfoys, Miranda had always presumed were an intense family, an intimidating one. This short meeting was reminding her not to make presumptions based on the experiences of others. Very few people intimidated the Head Healer and the potioneer with family problems was about as intimidating as a pink pygmy puff covered in glitter. It was somewhat disappointing.


“Perhaps you can, Mr Malfoy.” The Healer didn’t smile, simply nodded before starting to stand up. “Send an owl to my assistant to arrange for an interview and a possible trial.” He wasn’t the only interested party, after all.