Who put the devil in you?

In the brief period between patients, Michael leant back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose where his glasses would have sat, if he'd worn glasses.

He opened the file that had appeared in his in-tray just moments ago.

Dunn
Graham Lachlan
17/11/2012

Parents concerned RE: asocial behaviour

A wry smile curled across Michael's lips. What teenage boy didn't exhibit asocial behaviour? It was hardly something to bring him to a healer for. This was the point where he suppressed the urge to speculate further, though. It would only impair his judgement later on.

As he crossed to the door, his expression became more friendly, though Michael knew from experience that many of his patients would never be taken in by something so superficial as a smile. In fact, for the really paranoid ones, a smile was merely more proof that he was not to be trusted.

"Graham Dunn," he called.

This was completely asinine. The fact that his mother had decided this was the way to go? Graham didn't want to believe that it was true, but something told him that it may have actually been Arin's idea. That would be exactly the sort of thing his brother would do. Muggle though he was, Graham got the feeling that Arin would have been a Slytherin. The fact that Graham himself wasn't one consistently surprised most of his friends. His siblings, too.

Arin, git that he was, was probably at practice right now, while Graham sat with his arms crossed, head tilted back on the top of his chair so he could stare at the ceiling. Merlin, this was stupid.

His name met the air, and Graham sighed heavily before sitting up and pushing off of the seat. This healer looked nice enough, but Graham wasn't exactly excited about what would be awaiting him behind the hallway door. Instead of offering a greeting, he lifted his chin in a sort of silent 'hey.'

His feet brought him to stand in front of the healer, only just registering the fact that he probably should have been ashamed to be there, where other people could see him. But he was more annoyed than embarrassed, and he had a feeling it showed.

"Graham, I'm Michael Corner," Michael introduced himself to the new patient, hands clasped firmly behind his back.  In this field even the tiniest things, like offering a handshake, could be a mental minefield.

Was it odd that the boy was by himself?  Most, though certainly not all patients with "concerned parents" turned up with those concerned parents in tow.  It was usually all Michael could do to convince those ones to let the child speak for themselves.  

Then again, Graham was no toddler and while it was clear he hated the situation, he was at his appointment.  Perhaps they simply trusted him.

He let the boy walk ahead of him into the office and closed the door behind them both.  The counselling offices at St Mungos irritated Michael to no end.  He suspected it stemmed from the fear that psychology wasn't proper healing, something his conscious mind knew to be utter codswallop, but his subconscious persisted with nonetheless.  In any case, he'd always loathed the plush couches and bright colours.

"Please, take a seat," he requested.

Mike settled into his own chair, which was an old wingback he'd managed to smuggle past the Lupins' terrible interior design choices, and rested a piece of parchment on his knee.

"Do you want to start or shall I?"

Graham huffed quietly, but fell into the seat he was expected to be stuck in for however long the session was supposed to run. The question leveled at him made Graham laugh and toss the healer a cynical look. The teen had a way of appearing entirely unengaged when, in the same moment, he was sizing up the other man in the room and wondering just how much effort he had to put into this meeting to avoid having to attend another one.

"Here's the thing, Mr. Corner," he replied casually, relaxing against his chair. "I have just about zero interest in actually being here. That much is probably clear, though. So if you've got, say, required questions that you need to get out of the way, that would probably be the best place to start."

Graham, mind you, was fully aware that he was likely just working himself up into even more trouble. But there was something massively insulting about being forced to attend a meeting like this because he and Arin were in a standoff. Of course, the elder brother would not be expected to go to such meetings. His mother, Graham figured, was wary of magic more than she had expected or admitted. Perhaps it was the death of his father that had finally convinced her that magic was something to be afraid of. Either way, he was absolutely sure that his ability was what had planted him in this office for a meeting he denied he had any use for.

Michael didn't react. He'd heard many similar outpourings before. Often patients who were required to see him tried to cut things short by baiting him, but Graham seemed more to be setting out the facts. Or at least the facts as he perceived them.

That was good.

"I'm legally obliged to report you to the authorities if, in my professional opinion, you are a danger to yourself or others," he said. "Currently, that is not my belief."

"According to the referral, your parents are concerned about asocial behaviour. These sessions aren't about your parents, though, they're about you. Many people your age aren't interested in being here and that's fine. We can sit here in silence until my next appointment, or you can tell me about how life is at Hogwarts these days, or you can bring along some homework and I'll catch up on my paperwork."

"However, I would like to know whether you think your parents concerns are legitimate, if you don't mind," he added.

Graham slowly raised an eyebrow in response to what seemed like a veiled threat. Still, he settled further into his chair and generally just glowered across at the healer. As soon as Michael mentioned parents being involved, the Ravenclaw had to keep himself from scoffing. Hardly true. But Corner didn't know that - how could he? He hadn't heard the whole story, of course. And he didn't know Graham's secret. No one did, except Arin, and the day was bound to come when it would matter. But the idea of being reported - especially for telling the truth about it? That didn't sit too well with the sixteen-year-old. So he decided not to lay his cards on the table just yet.

"Well," Graham practically drawled, setting his elbow on the arm of his chair and plopping his chin into his palm. "I suppose that depends. Did my mother claim that there were parents who felt concerned? If so, she lied. My father's dead. Has been for four years. So, for starters, it's just her. My brother likely worked her up into it, though. Muggles, the pair of them. Not that I'm against that, exactly. It's more like they're afraid of me and my younger siblings, but refuse to say the word 'scared,'" he rolled his eyes, his fingers curling into air quotations.

"The thing is, we had a bit of a row, my half-brother and I," he explained, turning to look away in a show of boredom. "And neither of us really want to fix it."

Michael's mind raced as he tried to sort through the deluge of information the boy had just provided him with, probably without even realising it.

He clearly resented his mother and brother. Perhaps idolised his father. Michael wondered about his relationship with his other siblings. Many first-born muggleborn children felt responsibility for other magical siblings.

"I'm sorry, Graham," he said. "I just read what was written on the referral. I don't know if your mother said that or if another healer made a mistake."

Michael could have asked why Graham thought his relatives were afraid of him, but he didn't think it would be helpful to challenge the boy's perceptions yet. Instead, he decided to be predictable. There was a lot to be said for letting people think they were smarter than you in the absence of real trust.

"How does it make you feel to know your mother and brother are afraid of you?" he asked.

If someone were to pin down what sort of 'smarts' Graham had, it would definitely have been book smarts over any special skills when it came to social situations. There, of course, was no exception when it came to a meeting like this. Anger was a huge part of him by now, and it was easier to let that be the visible side of him, especially around someone who - legally - couldn't turn around and share the information with anyone. Although he had a way about him when it came to making other students nervous, and although he could catch the attention of girls who didn't know better, he was not in his element in this office.

He didn't expect the question that the healer sent his way, so he looked back towards Michael, one eyebrow lifted. "Well, it's pretty ignorant of them, isn't it? Especially my mother. She knew who my father was. He was in the Order, for Merlin's sake. He didn't try to hide it."

Graham lifted his shoulder in a shrug, though it wasn't as nonchalant as he intended it to be. "If things had been the other way around, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have been like this. If Arin were the younger. Even if he was the first of mum's kids with magic. We both wanted the same things, but he let her push the rest of us aside, when he shouldn't have done."

Graham's anger immediately made Michael think of Zoe, and how often Michael had wished for her to have shown magic whether through sympathy or through more selfish desires to take the pressure off himself.

Apparently Graham hadn't considered such alternatives.

"You're certainly adept at avoiding the question," he remarked with a wry smile.

"So you think if your brother had been magical your mother would still have favoured him," he summarised.

"Do you ever think that perhaps your brother and even your mother might be jealous of you?" he asked. "After all, you have abilities far beyond anything your brother will ever be able to accomplish and even at your age you probably have more comprehension of the realities of our world than your mother ever did."

Graham lifted the corner of his mouth in a near half-smile, though it was more of a smirk, really. Yes, he preferred to talk around things unless he had a good reason for being forthright. This was not one of those times.

"What should it matter that I have magic? Our father did, too, and she never treated him any differently. Neither did Arin." Graham was frowning now, unimpressed yet again that he was in this situation because of some new thing either his mum or his brother had come up with.

"What should it matter, if we both were after the same goals? I didn't want to use magic for my career, yet here I am, forced to consider it because what I really wanted to do was taken away. If they're jealous, perhaps they have the wrong priorities," he decided.