“The Healer will see you now.”
The Healer stood gracefully, shook Mother’s hand, and introduced himself. He looked nice. Tall, with sandy hair and brown eyes. Maybe thirty? Draco’s blood rushed in his ears and he didn’t hear a word.
Draco and Mother sat on the edge of their expensive chairs. The small medical office was tastefully decorated. Instead of paintings, there were framed photos on the walls: slowly swaying palm trees and quietly lapping waves. The chairs were sleek metal and black leather. The examination table in the middle looked brand new, like it had been delivered that morning. The second-floor windows had real, cloth curtains, because they looked down onto a real street. No faked, magical scenes here. The sunny, summer view of a well-appointed neighborhood was quite real.
It was nothing like St. Mungo’s, which was both comforting and distressing. It was one thing to see an expensive, private Healer because one preferred to do so. It was altogether another to see an expensive, private Healer, even a young, handsome one, because one expected St Mungo’s to turf one out the door as soon as they saw your hair. Or your name.
Mother had told the Healer what she had seen, Draco had explained his own perspective far more succinctly, and then he had answered a long list of questions. About all his wands. About the war. About when he had been at Hogwarts and how much time he’d been forced to spend in the Manor. About who else had been in the Manor. About the kinds of magic he’d watched those witches and wizards cast.
He spoke to the floor, mostly. He was so ashamed. At one point Mother tried to take his hand, but he wriggled discreetly away. He wouldn’t let her make him into a baby. Bad enough that he’d become a weak wizard, as well as a fool who had been fooled.
Finally he knew, embarrassed but determined, he had to cast.
“So this is what it looks like when I cast Lumos with this new wand,” Draco finished, and he sent a weak glow into the room. The light sputtered into view and died quickly, as the three of them stared at it.
“I know what I suspect,” replied the handsome young Healer. “But in order to be certain, I will have to do some tests. I must warn you, some of them are… invasive. Mrs Malfoy, I am going to need you to wait outside.”
Nervous, Draco nodded at Mother, who raised one eyebrow, but left the room without further comment.
“You will need to completely disrobe,” the Healer said. “Even your socks. Then you can lie face down on this table and pull this sheet over you. I will let you know when I am about to come back in.”
Draco nodded and, when the Healer left the room, he disrobed as quickly as he could. He did not want to get caught half-naked, pulling off one sock.
Once he was completely nude, Draco picked up the folded sheet and opened it. It was white, made of soft cotton. It felt thin on his skin, almost see-through. But he pulled it around his shoulders like a cloak, and climbed awkwardly onto the high table. Then he arranged himself, belly down, face turned to the side so he would see the door open. He’d only managed to wrangle the sheet up over his shoulders and down over his toes just in time, he was sure, and nervously waited for the Healer’s return.
But the Healer did not open the door right after Draco got himself up onto the table. Instead, nothing happened.
Draco turned his head to see a shiny, silver clock. The second hand was on the ten, and it clicked methodically through the seconds as Draco watched, calming his breathing and trying not to worry what the Healer might mean by “invasive tests.” This was magic, not a grudge match. There was nothing on Draco’s arm (any more) and he and mother had both been (grudgingly) acquitted with Potter’s glowing testimony making all the difference. Not to mention, they were paying a pretty penny to be treated with deference. Surely “invasive” just meant the Healer would push the tip of his wand into a muscle, or something. Surely?
Where the hell was that Healer? It had been seventy-eight seconds since Draco had put his eyes on that damn clock. He knew it was almost certainly his imagination, but the ticking of the second hand seemed to be getting louder. Draco closed his eyes and took yet another deep breath. Then he opened them and watched the second hand click endlessly around.
Two minutes and forty-four seconds after Draco had rushed himself onto the table, the Healer knocked loudly once, and then opened the door.
“Very good,” he said dismissively, and then began to gather objects Draco couldn’t see. “I must ask,” he asked from behind Draco, “if you have ever had penetrative sex with a man?”
“What?” Draco squeaked. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
The Healer rested his overlarge palms on Draco’s covered ankles. His hands were warm, then uncomfortably hot. Draco strove to listen to the Healer’s words and ignore his touch. “Well, I believe you have a condition known formally as ‘blocked pure and neutral magical release,’” he said. “We usually refer to it as a Tarred Blockage. Basically, Mr Malfoy, you spent many of the months of your late adolescence around the tarriest and stickiest of Tainted Magic. Worse, you did so while holding a barely adequate wand. This means, I believe, that your own magic has been blocked from release by a… we’ll call it a ‘layer’ of Tainted Magic. This Tainted Magic is… it is much as though it is sitting on your skin, making it hard for you to cast your own magic. At least, that is what I believe these tests will confirm.
“The only really effective way to remove this layer of contamination is via sex magic. In particular, you will need to have a very proscribed kind of sex, with a man who ejaculates what we call “Pure Magic,” along with his semen. You will need to face away from this man while he uses your anal opening for intercourse, and before he ejaculates into your anus, hopefully very deeply, you must orgasm into a special cloth. Your orgasm will first remove some of the layer of Tainted Magic, and then his will replace it with Pure Magic.”
The Healer released Draco’s ankles. Draco pushed his burning face into the pillow. “Well, in that case, er, no,” Draco managed to say. “I’m a virgin with girls ... and, er, boys. I’ve never had any kind of sex at all.” Self-conscious, he thought to defend himself. He was only eighteen. Surely that wasn’t all that old to still be a virgin? But he stayed silent, telling himself he didn’t care what the Healer thought.
“I see,” the Healer said. “Then this should be quite the experience.” He pulled a black square from a drawer. “I’m going to wrap this around your penis. It will masturbate you, and then bring you fully to orgasm. Roll over.”
Draco didn’t see why he couldn’t wrap the thing around his dick himself, but the Healer loomed over him and he didn’t have the courage to object. Pushing himself up slightly on one elbow, he exposed himself as briefly as possible. The Healer’s eyes glittered, and he looked at Draco for a long moment before he reached out to touch him.
Draco couldn’t help it. When the Healer made contact with his cock, he rolled right onto the man’s hand. But this was a horrible miscalculation, as the Healer just took his time settling the cloth around him and rubbing him with it before finally extracting his hand. Draco was fairly certain that he hid his miserable gasp in the thin pillow under his face.
“The spell to trigger the cloth is ‘Enter’,” the Healer said, but Draco was distracted by multiple spells washing over his skin. It took a moment before he noticed that the spell on the masturbation cloth was unusually aggressive. It rubbed him up and down, squeezed his cock, teased at his balls, thoroughly addressing his current state of shriveled horror and embarrassment. It felt good, but it also felt like a large piece of magical silk was masturbating him in a Healer’s office, and Draco tried not to squirm in discomfort--or, for that matter, in delight. He wasn’t really sure which description was more correct, or more awful.
Soon Draco was fully hard, and extremely glad that he was face down, and that the surface of the exam table was very squashy and soft. His cock had gone quickly from its very smallest to its very largest state, and if he had not been lying down before the process began, he suspected he would have had to lie down while the little spell-cloth did its work, just from the swiftly shifting blood flow.
The experience with the spell-cloth meant that Draco was barely aware of anything else that the Healer’s spells might have been doing. However, now that it was done getting his cock completely erect, he thought he could feel something warm and wet drip slowly from his arsehole. He buried his face into the pillow once again.
“As I suspected,” the Healer said, “I have measured your Tainted Magic levels, and they are shockingly high. You have a ninety-four percent Tainted rating for the surface of your skin. That is actually a body-wide average, though. It’s actually nearing one hundred percent around your hands and mouth. It’s a bit lower around your feet. I am going to need to perform that sex act I mentioned earlier, and see what that does for your Tainted Magic levels.”
Draco nearly came off the table. “What?” he nearly screamed. “You’re going to fuck me?”