It had been ten years since the war was won.For other people it was a good day.Not for Andy she had been laying in her room for two days.She didn’t feel like coming out anyway.But since Molly found out that she was pregnant she kept trying to find out who the father was.Andy couldn’t tell her who it was.It would disappoint her and Andy knew it.
Molly and the rest of the family were spending their day in the garden,so Andy walked downstairs to get herself a sandwich.Her hand laid on her baby bump.She was sure no one would go inside anyway so she thought she was alone.After she made her sandwich she walked into the living room and sat down.She leaned back and closed her eyes,rubbing her stomach.
It was hard to focus on anything–the paperwork he’d brought with him, the patient lying in the hospital bed and otherwise unmoving; anything and everything, Draco seemed to lose focus with. He blamed it on sleep deprivation, of course; he was exhausted beyond all measures, and couldn’t have bothered to stop the series of yawns that had crept up on him within the past half an hour even if he’d bloody tried. Sighing, he shifted slightly in the chair he was seated in, lifting his hands to rub at his eyes tiredly before deciding that what he really needed was a decent cup of caffeine. Luckily for him, there was a small coffee station at the far end of the room, and with a grunt the youngest Malfoy stretched and slowly moved to stand.
Every muscle in his body was aching; sore and weary from how active he’d been ever since this case had started so long ago, and as he trudged from one end of the room to the other, he hoped they could end this blasted thing already so he could go back to a normal sleeping routine. By the time he finally reached the small, portable table that held a pot of coffee and a few plastic cups, Draco snatched one of the cups up and poured himself a hearty amount, doctoring it up the way he preferred and blowing on the steam that curled and rose from the dark brown liquid before taking a tentative sip. Just then, he heard something stirring behind him, and froze automatically. Could it be…?
Turning around slowly, he noticed that it was just one of the hospital workers stepping quietly into the room to empty the rubbish bin. He was gone in a flash, and Draco exhaled audibly before making his way back to his seat (coffee in hand, of course). He was worried that John Doe was going to wake himself from his blasted coma before someone could come to his aid. Weasley was the one who’d bloody requested his company, and she was nowhere to be found. Dissatisfied with her absence, Draco scowled, scoffing once before seating himself back in his chair. He took another sip of his coffee, struggling to remain pissed with her but finding that he simply didn’t have the energy.
It had been a couple years since the final battle of Hogwarts. For Harry when Voldemort died it was just the end of another battle. As Harry wanted he became an auror with no trouble. In doing so he was given the books that all aurors receive of spells and potions most used by them. Harry worked hard and in working all of his time awake he lost touch with Ron Hermione, and even Ginny. He followed every lead of Death Eaters and though claimed innocence he knew better. Each Death Eater was rotten to the core. For that he would deal with them. He knew better That one day a death eater would want to make a name for themselves and come after him.
Harry wanted to do his monthly check down Knocturn Alley. So he first went to The Leaky Cauldron grabbed a drink before walking through Diagon alley. He was grateful it was not that busy as he walked by the shops in his black aurors robes. Glancing at Weasley Wizzarding wheezes and walked down into Knocturn alley down towards Borgin and Burkes.
It had been a week since it had happened. Since her body glowed gold and she found herself changing appearances. But something that took her off guard was the fact that she was now a male. An above average moose with sideburns. Of course she had to go out and buy more clothes and of course she kept up her sense of style, the plaid and the jeans that fit to form. But he had an attractive body still, why not express it.
Andrew found himself walking around downtown London one night, hands in his pockets as he nodded to some men, the same men that usually whistled at him when he was a female and tried to hit on him. Now they seemed to pull away in fear that maybe he was going to step on them. This was hard for Amy, the change and the adaption to this new lifestyle. What on earth was he going to do with himself, and the best part of it all is that he sounded like a tough american.
He walked into this tavern that seemed a bit under the radar and asked for a drink, pulling out the psychic paper and flashing it to the bartender before hearing a ‘don’t worry buddy we can tell that you are above age.’ He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. Sighing he looked around trying to find someone to talk to, maybe someone who almost measured up to his height.
The words rang through his mind, time after time reminding him how cruel the thing was that he was about to do. Although he was not leaving willingly, he still felt terrible about disregarding his promise. It felt as if he was about to breach an Unbreakable Vow. Yet, he had no choice. There was no work for him left in Romania, nor in Wales as he had requested upon. Instead, he was sent into the high mountains of Nepal. It was one of the only places where the Death Eaters hadn’t struck, where the dragons had not been able to escape. He had begged, begged to be able to go to Wales, closer to his family and give and take the support he needed after his brother’s death. He was given disappointment instead. The Sanctuary there was temporarily shut down, for most of the dragons had been let loose by You-Know-Who’s followers hours before the Battle to cause chaos.
All these thoughts did not make it easier for Charlie to find a way to explain to his sister that he had to go. Again. The first time, he’d been dying to leave, yet now he was dying to stay. He had promised to stay, to take care of her and to get through this together. He wasn’t even sure whether he himself could handle being all alone in Nepal, taking care of the dragons that others would hopefully be able to return to the Reserve.
“Ginny?” He called out when he stepped inside. He hated how his voice sounded: it already reflected his regret and the fact that he was about to do something he considered unacceptable. “Are you there?”
weasleybean said: Screw you, Mr. Smith. I don’t think I want to do traveling with you anymore.
The Doctor’s eyes widened, swallowing harshly before opening his mouth to speak. Though, he didn’t really think about what he’d say. “W-What?” Was all that managed to come out from him, looking at her as though he were a deer caught in headlights. Did she really not want to travel with him?
It wasn’t difficult to piss Draco Malfoy off, but when he was irritated, then he was bloody irritated.
The news had come the day before–Kingsley had slipped into the young Malfoy’s office at the Ministry, explaining to him that there was a very ill patient at St. Mungo’s who needed a special inspection and treatment from a trained Potioneer (evidently, the Healers hadn’t been able to decipher any specific diagnosis for the man–tragic, Kingsley had called it). Of course, Draco had been the most qualified staff member for the job, and it was only after he’d agreed to follow through with the job that he was informed he would have to collaborate with some of the staff of St. Mungo’s. Under…ordinary circumstances, the teamwork wouldn’t be too much to deal with, but after he’d been informed that the only available Healer for the job just so happened to be the patient’s medical supervisor–Ginny bloody Weasley.
All forms of protest and blatant shows of anger had been fruitless, though, for twenty-four hours later, here he stood–on the lift of St. Mungo’s, clutching his brief case tightly in one hand and staring blankly at the silver doors of the lift before him. His jaw flexed in irritation, followed by the slight flaring of his nostrils, and Draco steeled himself as the doors slid apart to reveal the spell damage level of St. Mungo’s. Scowling, he stepped off the lift and ignored the curious gazes of passing Healers and patients. He was in a sour mood, undoubtedly, and the realization that he’d be locked tight in close quarters with one of the Weasleys only made everything worse.
Scoffing in detest, he made his way around the corner, bitterly inquiring as to where the staff’s conference room was before being led down a narrow corridor. The secretary who led him turned a sharp left, directing him to a small and vacant room that he hesitantly moved to occupy. Grumbling under his breath, he wiped his face of all expression–the Weaslette wasn’t going to know that her presence irritated the shit out of him. At least…not at first. He had to be careful about this. Inhaling slowly and struggling to calm himself, Draco set his bulky leather brief case down on top of the rectangular table, moving to take a seat at the head of the table and calmly staring at the shut door situated across the room from him. He lifted his arms, resting his elbows against the table and pressing his lips together as he continued to stare fixedly at the door.
If either one of them were going to crack, Draco would be damn certain it wasn’t going to be him.