Transference

Countertransference is a term in psychotherapy, denoting a condition where the therapist, as a result of the therapy sessions, begins to transfer the therapist's own repressed feelings to the patient. It is also defined as the entire body of feelings that the therapist has toward the patient.

~*~

Routinely the guard brought him in, his wand drawn ready to attach the shackles to the chair until Hermione waved him away. "There will be no need of that today," she said, meeting the guard's unapproving stare. It was an old ploy, to make the prisoner more comfortable, to offer trust. There were those she'd interviewed who she hadn't dared to suggest they remain unbound. The manacles fell away from Malfoy's wrists, those on his ankles remained. Once he was settled, the guard left as silently as he'd come, the door making the familiar ominous click when it shut behind him.

Taking out a pack of cigarettes, she tapped one out and pushed the rest of the pack to the middle of the table. Using a Muggle lighter she lit it, taking a deep drag of it then setting it on the tin ashtray provided, the thin curling smoke breaking the monotony of the light in the room. Lucius looked pleased with himself that she had acquiesced to his request that she bring the cigarettes and was bold enough to smoke one in front of him.

"How are you doing today, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Splendidly," he drawled, taking advantage of his freed hands to rest them on the table. "I am a man of leisure with servants to bring me my meals. How few can boast of that?"

Her lips twitched. How the mighty have fallen, yet there was truth in what he said. Could he even function on the outside? There would be no 'servants' to wait on him, no magic afforded to him for a period. Hermione mentally shook off her line of thought. It wasn't her concern. "Do you have any questions pertaining to yesterday's conversation?"

He chuckled softly. "No. The interrogation was crystal clear and I am ready for it to continue."

"It is simple procedure, not an interrogation, Mr. Malfoy. A psychological profile is necessary for any prisoner that is considered for release..."

"Ah, yes. Psychology. Such a noble profession, listening to the problems of the unfortunate, offering them false advice and hope. Pretending to be clever when in reality, it is the one with the problems that does the work, baring their deepest darkest secrets, fantasies, all the things that would send fear into the feeble minds of men that deny that they too have desires that are too horrible to admit."

A slow sinister smile spread on his face. "It is a pity you couldn't save your own husband from the demons in his mind."

Hermione's face was a carefully schooled mask of indifference. "What are some of those deepest darkest secrets you wish to hide, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Did you miss the signs, therapist Granger? Perhaps when your lover slept fitfully, tossing and turning, begging in his sleep," he continued in a silky voice. "Did you reason with yourself that he was only out late with the boys, having a few drinks, not drinking to forget what happened to him?" Lucius leaned forward, his eyes alight with a hungry look. "Tell me, did they let you see him after it happened? I've heard that the Muggle way of suicide is...very gruesome."

"Tell me about your dreams, Mr. Malfoy," she said in a flat tone.

"Tit for tat, Hermione," Lucius purred, thoroughly enjoying himself now. "You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine. Do you dream of him, crying out for you or worse, crying out for another and knowing you are unable to save him."

The pen slipped from her fingers, falling to the stone floor with an ominous clatter. She bent to retrieve it, using the few moments to take a steadying breath. Why was he getting to her? Those before him had railed at her, taunted her about her heritage, made lewd suggestive comments of how they would like to torture her, to watch her dirty blood flow from her lifeless body. She knew the answer and shoved it to the back of her mind, trying to refuse the deep begging need in her to ask him, to plead with him to tell her what he knew about it.

"It doesn't work that way, Mr. Malfoy. I ask the questions, you may either answer or choose to ignore them."

"Surely it is worth hearing about something dark and sinister that I have done or wish I had to answer my simple question, Ms. Granger." The cat-like smile returned. "Do you dream of him?"

Hermione's jaw clenched and she stared coldly at him for a long moment. "Yes, of course I do. Anyone would."

A calmness washed over his face. "Thank you. That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"Your turn, Lucius." She didn't notice her slip until it was too late and covered by turning a page in the notebook. "Regal me with a tale of your darkest secrets."

He chuckled, a very amused expression on his face. "I could almost take you seriously and assume you are a naive, foolish young woman, but I know that you were at least, at one time, a very smart and clever witch, especially for a Muggleborn." Reposing his position in the chair, he gave the appearance of one sitting down to tea with one of the royal family. "My secrets will go with me to the grave, be it in here or out in the free world. However, I do owe you and I repay my debts in full."

Lucius lifted his chin, looking very regal and haughty, and for a moment, Hermione glimpsed the man he once was before a decade of living in this hellhole had taken away a portion of his health. Apparently it hadn't dampened his spirit. "When I get out of here, I will tell you what happened to your husband," he said smoothly, his eyes glittering with an inner fire.

Hermione met his gaze unflinching. "If you get out of here, Mr. Malfoy, we will no longer have contact unless the court deems it so," she replied calmly. "I dare say that the story would be most inventive as you were not involved since you were securely locked up at the time."

Smirking, Lucius nodded at the cigarette pack. She tapped out one and lit it, passing it across to him. He took it gingerly, careful not to touch her, and brought it to his lips, taking a deep drag. "My 'friends' were most eager to fill me in on all the happenings I missed," he said, a hint of cynicism in his voice, smoke curling from his nostrils.

Friends. Murderers, Death Eaters, defilers...

"How did it make you feel when these friends left you to rot in here?"

The smirk slowly turned into a sneer and he crushed the cigarette on the tabletop. "It made me feel...ecstatic." The cynicism was definitely there now, coating the words in heavy sarcasm. A mere flicker of empathy filled her for a moment. She was well aware of 'why' the Death Eaters hadn't released Lucius with the others during the summer of 1997. They never planned to set him free, they had planned to kill him for Draco's betrayal.

It was after the death of Narcissa that Draco had finally turned away from following Voldemort, believing in Dumbledore's promise to him, that the Order could protect him and his family. That promise was fulfilled when the conspiracy reached their ears through the Order's own spy network, which was more securely in place than anyone knew save except for Dumbledore. To thwart the breakout completely would put the Order's inside source in jeopardy but they could save Lucius.

One of the Phoenix members inside Azkaban set Malfoy up, staging a fake incident, claiming that Lucius had struck him during a normal bedtime check thus earning Lucius a week in solitaire. When the Death Eaters arrived they couldn't locate Malfoy quickly and by the time they learned of his whereabouts were in no position to seek him out for the Aurors had been alerted and were entering the prison. Hermione knew that Lucius would never learn the truth that at his son's request, Draco's bravery, his own life had been spared because Draco could never tell his father; he had fallen during the last days of the war.

"Wasn't it better to spend the time in here than to be part of a losing side?" she asked simply, not to provoke but she needed to know.

Lucius raised a haughty eyebrow and chuckled. "Perhaps they lost because they left one of their most valuable allies behind." He paused, letting the comment pregnant, then he shrugged ever so slightly. "Staying in this place did not afford a nice holiday, Miss Granger, however in retrospect I will accept that piece of fate did seem to work in my favor. I am not a foolish man. Since circumstances played out as they did, then I am grateful that they did not find me that day. Is that not the proper response?"

His smile was too pleasant and she carefully noted the tension that appeared around his eyes. No doubt he thought that had he been reunited with the Death Eaters he alone could have helped change the course of events. Such were the grandeur ideas of the Narcisstic.

"It is your response. Do with as you will," she said calmly. "Do you have a desire to inform your former colleagues of your views now that you've had a considerable time to think about everything?"

"You are asking whether I will seek out those who abandoned me and extract revenge," he replied, the amusement back in his eyes. "In case you are hard of hearing, let me reiterate. I am not a foolish man. They have garnered their punishment, who am I to mete out further?"

"Let me offer you a hypothetical scenario, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said, picking up the almost burned up cigarette and flicking the long ash from it. "You run into a comrade in a deserted, dark place. He boasts of his devotion, his deeds, in the final days of the war, and comments on your cowardness, that you were safely ensconced behind prison walls instead of serving the one you pledge alliance to. There is no one around, no one would ever know. What would your reaction be?"

"I believe that is cohersion, Miss Granger," he drawled, the merest hint of calculation in his eyes. "It does intrigue me however. Could it be that this hypothetical scenario is one that you've played out, the person you have met in this dark, deserted place, one of those that tortured your husband?" Lucius sat up straighter, reaching across the table for the cigarette pack and tapping out one, holding it for a moment before crumbling it into a pile of tobacco and paper. "You would like that, wouldn't you? To shred this hypothetical person, to...kill them."

He leaned back once more, looking very smug. "Forgive me, but I suspect your ability to murder a person would be pathetic at best."

"Would you murder the person in question, hypothetically of course?" she countered, reaching for the cigarette pack now and lighting another.

"No. Even in your hypothetical world I would not allow my regained freedom to be jeopardize over such triviality as displaced loyalty."

Liar. The unbiddened word unsettled her, not sure who it was meant for. Twice now he'd gotten to her and she wouldn't let it happen again.

"Are you just saying that to appease me?" she asked quickly.

Lucius leaned back in the chair, placing the tips of his fingers together, smiling. "What do you think? After all, you are the professional."

Hermione returned the dry, sarcastic smile. "I think you are very smooth, Mr. Malfoy, and will play the part well to gain what you desire."

"Wouldn't you? Forgive me again, Miss Granger," he said, his tone dripping in sarcasm, "but I hardly think you are in the position to cast judgment on hypothetical matters when in fact you would act upon them yourself."

"Are you attempting to analyze me, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked with a hint of amusement.

Lucius stared at her, almost daring her to look away. "You're too open, too honest. Anyone could read your thoughts and I'm not speaking of Legilems. The disassociated aura you try to present is too false, too forced." He smiled lazily. "Of course, I'm sure most of the pathetic fools that seek out your help are too far wrapped up in their own menial problems to notice."

"Fascinating as your theory is, we are wasting the valuable minutes afforded to you," she responded, again feeling that inkling of being caught off guard. "How would you feel if you are allowed release but not allowed to have possession of a wand until you have proven that you can settle in society?"

"To live as a Muggle or Squib, how very ...quaint. I suppose the powers that be would find that very amusing," he said the cynicism in his voice once more. "A wizard without a wand is still a wizard and I would find it...tolerable until my wand is returned to me."

No doubt you would procure one in secret anyway. Hermione scolded herself for her quick assumptions, something that shouldn't have happened. She had to remain neutral.

"How will you support yourself if you are released? I'm sure your solicitor has informed you that your gold barely covered the reimbursement the Ministry enacted on all those incarcerated with ties to Voldemort for damages to the community. You will return to a Manor bereft of staff and funds."

A fleeting look of disgust flickered across his face. "Yes, the wonderful court appointed solicitor took great glee informing of the nature of my estate," he said dryly. "Regardless of popular opinion, I am capable of taking care of myself in all areas, financial and otherwise."

The skepticism that would have risen at one time wasn't there. She believed he was very capable and no doubt had resources the Ministry had never found; it would have been what she'd had done, hide away a stash of monies and valuables if faced with the possibility of losing everything. It was his ability to adjust to dealing with 'less desirables' that would be his challenge.

Not that she cared. If he were released, their paths would never cross again.

Hermione made a note on the pad and closed it, sliding it into her briefcase. "Unless you have anything to add, Mr. Malfoy, I believe our interview is at an end."

Lucius retrieved another cigarette from the pack, his gaze very calculating and she knew that he was wondering what her report to the board would be, yet she also knew that his pride wouldn't allow him to ask outright. He leaned across the table to allow her to light the cigarette as before, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand, a careless gesture perhaps.

"I have nothing further to add, Miss Granger," he said with a sly smile, settling back into his seat and taking a drag of the cigarette.

"Then I will say goodbye," she said, picking up the briefcase and standing. A small shiver ran down her spine as she met his eyes, the gray orbs veiled yet there was something within that she quickly dismissed as a play of her imagination. For some reason, again, he'd had unnerved her.

~*~

Crookshanks purred contentedly beside Hermione, enjoying the stroking that he always received when his mistress was deep in thought. For over an hour Hermione sat on the small sofa, her thoughts on the conversation with Lucius. It was easy to not think about the incident, what her husband had done, most times. She'd isolated herself from his family, by choice and by circumstances. They'd been supportive, assuring her that she was still part of the family, but she couldn't handle the sympathetic looks or gestures or the underlying guilt that somehow she should have known, should have stopped him. It was what she did wasn't it?

It is a pity you couldn't save your own husband from the demons in his mind.

How could she have missed the signs that he'd been ready to end his life? She knew he'd shut down about whatever had happened to him and foolishly she thought he was handling it...The old defenses welled within her; she couldn't think about it, wouldn't think about it. It was over, done, and nothing would bring him back, nothing.

Getting up, she went over to the small desk, pulling out quill, parchment and ink. The board wouldn't accept her notes printed from the computer. Casting a spell, the quill began to write as she spoke.

"Summary: The prisoner, Lucius Abraxon Malfoy, shows signs of Narcissism, is a very accomplished and clever liar, and has no remorse for his participation in his activities for the deceased Lord Voldemort. His ability to adjust into a world where there is no despot to provide rhetoric of the purity of the Wizarding community will be sorely tested and will need to be acclimatized.

It is in my professional opinion in regards to the parole of Mr. Malfoy that he should be...."