Chapter Text
Millicent glanced at the clock over the door. Just ten more minutes, she chanted internally. She’d been there for over twelve hours already, and everything ached. She stood, shaking the sleeves of her healer’s robes down over her wrists, and stretched. She’d been charting for what felt like hours, though she knew it had been scarcely half an hour since Mr. Dorrell down the hall had summoned her for his water cup that she was relatively sure he’d knocked over on purpose to make her bend over for it. She’d foiled his plans by vanishing it with her wand and getting a new cup from the cupboard.
Before she’d even had a chance to stretch properly, the light flashed, signaling an incoming patient. She bit down a sigh, instead hurrying towards the door to meet the triage team.
She caught sight of a flash of red hair over the sheet. “--year old male, burns over his right upper extremity caused by a dragon--” She swore. So much for ten minutes.
Against all odds, the victim was awake, his clear blue eyes observing her as she cut the remnants of his sleeve away, and the orderlies assisted in replacing his ruined shirt with a hospital gown. “We gotta stop meeting like this, doc,” he said with a grin, and she ignored him, summoning vial after vial as they continued down the sterile- feeling hallway and into an equally sterile room.
“Well if you’d stop acting like an idiot and getting in the way of those fucking dragons, maybe we wouldn’t,” Millie snapped.
He tried to shrug, and winced at the movement against the angry, raw skin of his shoulder. “It was me or the new kid. At least I know what to expect.” Millie rolled her eyes. Godsdamned Gryffindors.
“And I suppose there was absolutely no way out without either of you ending up on my ward. Again.” She uncorked a bottle with rather more force than necessary, but placed it gently against his lips. He didn’t argue, probably because dragon burns hurt like hell, and swallowed the potion.
When the dark blue potion was gone, she removed the vial from his lips, and applied a copper-coloured cream to the edges of the burn, where the skin was charred and blackened. She could tell when the pain potion began to take effect, because the subtle tension in his shoulders began to relax, and he finally lay his head back against the pillows.
“Which was it this time?”
“Hebridean Black. How are your brothers?”
Millie snorted. “They’re… Surviving. And yours?” She worked methodically, covering the ruined skin bit by pain-staking bit. She hated this part-- the not knowing as she covered the wound if it would be too deep this time for the paste to work properly.
“Rambunctious as ever,” he mused, his voice softer now, with the pain potion slowing him down and the adrenaline receding from his blood. He’d sleep, soon. He needed it. But he always asked about her brothers. He’d been in school with them, and she’d been in school with his. But their paths had never crossed until the Scot Dragon Keep had opened, and she, a newly minted healer on the trauma team, had been tasked with her first dragon burn. She’d lost track of how many she’d treated now, but she knew with absolute certainty that she’d treated this man no fewer than seven times. Eight, if you counted tonight’s.
Millie careful dabbed the burn paste over his shoulder, knowing that just inches below was a magical tattoo of a Romanian Longhorn dragon, probably twisting and hissing in discomfort at being driven from it’s usual spot across his upper back and shoulder. The first time she’d met Diana, as he affectionately referred to the inked dragon, the Longhorn had snapped harmlessly at Millie’s fingers, making her jump and Charlie laugh through his haze of painkillers.
“Sorry Diana,” she whispered softly. “I’m trying. We’ll get you back where you belong before you know it.” His eyes were closed, but she could have sworn she saw Charlie’s lips turn up in a smile. She redoubled her focus on his arm, silently chiding herself.
She waved off the healer that had come to relieve her at six, insisting that she’d finish and go. But it was after seven thirty now, and he’d yet to open his eyes. She sat back in the chair normally reserved for family members or significant others, knowing that he’d likely not told his mother he was there. The one time he’d made that mistake, Molly Weasley had flown in positively screeching about her baby boy. It had taken Millie nearly ten minutes to get her to shut up long enough to hear that Charlie had already been discharged, and had floo’d back to his flat before she’d even shown up. Since then, everyone he worked with was sworn to secrecy if he was injured on the job. Apparently it hadn’t been a problem when he’d worked in Romania, because it was days before she’d even known he’d been injured.
Millie sighed, closing her eyes. She hadn’t had anything better to do tonight anyway, and she was worried about her patient. At least, that’s the lie she told herself.
A cleared throat had her opening her eyes, and she sat straight up, reaching for her wand to check his vital signs. They were all steady, normal. He watched with a bemused expression as she lowered her wand, and rubbed her eyes before looking to the clock. It was after ten now. She really hadn’t meant to fall asleep..
“Doc came in while you were asleep,” he told her. “Shouler’s healing fine and I’m good to go.” It was then she noticed the hospital gown had been replaced with a plain white vest, and a leather jacket was draped over his unburned arm. She nodded.
“Good. If you’ll excuse me.” She stood, intending on rushing out the door and potentially drowning herself in the locker room shower because she was positively dying of embarrassment, but he was faster, stepping in front of the door, and blocking her way.
“Wait, Millie. Can I call you Millie?” He waited for her tentative nod before continuing. “Will you come to dinner with me?”
She blinked at him, confused at his request. Did he mean NOW?
“I mean, I know it’s late, but I’m starving and I’m sure you are too. You work long hours and you should have been home ages ago.” He looked earnest, his blue eyes luminous in the hospital’s fluorescent lighting.
“I-- That-- It’s not--” She stumbled over her words, at a complete loss.”You’re my patient,” she finally blurted. It wouldn’t be right.
“Technically I’m--” He paused, looking at the paperwork in his hand. “Healer Varma’s patient, but either way, I’ve been discharged, so I’m not really anyone’s patient now.” He flashed an impish smile, and Millie was again at a loss for words. “Come on,” he urged, and she caved, if only because her stomach was protesting loudly. She hadn’t actually eaten in… Fourteen hours now?
“Fine,” she sighed. “Let me go change.”
As she walked towards the staff locker room, she forced down the butterflies that had filled her stomach. It was just because she was starving, she told herself. It has nothing to do with him. The lie burned, but it was better than facing the truth.