Disclaimer – J.K.R. owns Harry Potter
A/N – Written for my '08-'09 Winter Writing Challenge. I won't bore you with the details, but I intended to have this story up last month. Once again, thanks to Uncle CSI for his help.
Tracey sighed softly and shook her head as she walked from the administration tent to the medical tent. She wasn't sure why she was surprised that Harry was hurt, since the man played hard and all out. He was constantly getting nicked and banged up and that's where she always came in. Someone had to put Harry Potter back together again.
She had been one of the few Slytherin upperclassmen to return to Hogwarts after the end of the war. That year had been an eye-opening experience. Her previous years, she had simply turned a blind eye to everything. But that year she had witnessed some awful things, everything concluding in the horrible and violent final battle. If she was honest, the aftermath of the battle was far worse than the actual fight. Among those helping Pompy that night, she saw things she never wanted to relive.
That year changed her view of a lot of things. She never really understood just how naive she was until everything was upon her. After spending so much time, just watching everything crumble to pieces, she now wanted to help rebuild the Wizarding world. Her world. Tracey found her calling in medicine, a mediwizard to be exact. The wizarding equivalent to a muggle medic.
In her final few steps to the medical tent, stadium security opened the flaps for her. Walking inside, she smirked a little at seeing Harry sitting on the cot, hand pressed to the side of his head.
"It's always a welcome sight to see you conscious before treatment," Tracey joked as she walked up to him.
"Nice to see you too, Doc," Harry fired back, then groaned as his head ached. At first, the Doc nickname had been a way for Harry to tweak Tracey a little. But after a while, it become sort of endearing and ended up sticking.
Originally, as part of her medical training, Tracey had been assigned to the Cannons medical staff. Two years later, she had pretty much become Harry's personal healer of sorts. "Well, at least you only injured your head," she said, drawing her wand. "Not like you do much with it, anyway."
After the usual awkwardness when they had first met, Tracey had found herself getting along well with Harry. An insult to her Slytherin background, surely, but she didn't care. Harry was a lot different than she had pictured The Chosen One to be. Though, she didn't mind deflating Harry's ego when it got too big, usually while she was healing him after he did something stupid.
"Funny," Harry grumbled, hearing the two attendants that had brought him to the medical tent snicker. "I did catch the Snitch." He then flinched when Tracey lit the tip of her wand and shone it in his eyes. "Bloody hell. Trying to blind me too?"
Firmly holding Harry's chin, Tracey slowly moved her wand back and forth, noting how his eyes reacted. "Yeah, yeah. You got the Snitch. You're still reckless."
"But that's what you love about me," Harry said. Tracey simply responded with a dismissive snort. He was always so guarded when it came to people he didn't know well, but from the moment he had really met Tracey, a moment he chose to think of when she started working with the Cannons, he found her easy to talk to. It also didn't hurt that he thought the little blonde witch was attractive.
While all he saw was spots before his eyes, he heard Tracey dismiss the two attendants. "Couldn't wait to get me alone, huh?" Harry joked as he rubbed his eyes. Harry had always had a very sarcastic sense of humor, something that had developed over the years as a defense mechanism against the constant berating from either his relatives or former teachers. But when it came to Tracey, he easily found himself becoming more suggestive and flirty. It was never conscious, as he really had no idea how to flirt with a woman, but it just came out. When she would play back, it would come even easier and more often.
"You're just another patient, Potter," Tracey told him. Ignoring the hero hype, and looking at Harry as if he was just another man, she could easily understand how a witch would be attracted to him. He was funny, smart, and when he wanted to be, charming. Even though she admitted to herself that she was attracted to Harry, she tried to ignore that attraction. She was focused on becoming a fully trained healer, and maybe working for Saint Mungo's.
She worried that any involvement with Harry could either jeopardize her chances, or give her the opportunity either before she was ready or make her feel like she didn't earn it. It was a feeling Tracey didn't like; she often thought that was a reason why she found it so easy to break free of the old ways. The sense of entitlement so many old blood wizards had had never sat right with her.
Harry chuckled. "Do you give all your other patients such a thorough physical?" he asked.
Feeling her face heat up, Tracey quickly turned away. "It's called being professional." A weak excuse, but it was what she used. "You should try it sometime." Hearing some shuffling, Tracey glanced over her shoulder and saw Harry trying to slide off the cot to his feet. Moving quickly, she stepped in front him, blocking his way. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm fine," Harry whined. He didn't like being under healer's care, no matter how attractive the mediwizard may be.
"You're not fine and you're not going anywhere," she told him sternly. "You have a mild concussion, so you're staying here for at least the next hour or so."
"Says who?" he challenged.
Folding her arms across her chest, she glared back at him. "Me. And another thing: You are to limit your physical exertion for the next few days, and I want you to do nothing but relax. That means no flying, no stupid stunts, and nothing beyond basic magic. You've got to give yourself a chance to heal."
"No way, New Year's is tomorrow, and I'm-"
"Which reminds me," Tracey interrupted. "No alcohol either, not even Butterbeer."
Growling in aggravation, Harry scowled. "Fine." Forearms against his knees, Harry leaned forward a little and looked about for a moment. Then suddenly, Harry slipped his hands inside Tracey's dark green robe, around her waist, and lightly gripped her backside.
Jerking in surprised, Tracey grasped his arms. "Harry! What are you doing?" she asked as he pulled her closer to him.
Sitting on the edge of the cot, Harry had Tracey pressed up against him. Resting his chin against her chest, he looked up at her with a cheeky grin. "Warming my hands."
Feeling her pulse quicken, Tracey tried to remain calm. "Warm your hands on my bum?"
"Well, I wanted to put them somewhere else, but I thought you'd hit me if I did."
"Why do you keep testing me?" she asked. Should I hit the pressure points in his shoulders, or maybe a quick jab in the ribs with my fist. Unsophisticated, but direct to the point. Or I could… Hey! What did he just do with his hands there? she thought, trying to see what Harry was doing behind her back. But Harry's grip kept her from completely breaking free, preventing her from turning around. Damn, Seekers, always have quick hands.
Harry laughed. "Because, I know behind this professional image that you try and hide behind, you're just screaming to get out and have some fun."
"Fun?"
"You haven't taken my hands off you yet," Harry reminded her with a smirk.
Trying to act annoyed, but failing miserably, she reached behind her and lifted Harry's hands off her. Unfortunately, taking advantage of her awkward position, Harry pinned her hands behind her.
Slipping off the cot and to his feet, now Tracey had to look up at him. For a moment, she struggled but wasn't able to break Harry's grip.
"So you call this fun?" she replied hotly. Tracey was conflicted, she wasn't sure if she was more mad at Harry for holding her like this, or at herself for being caught by surprise. Then, there was the fact that there was something to being held like this, being vulnerable.
Harry just smirked, and then leaned down and captured her lips with his own.
Despite herself, acting on instinct, Tracey stepped into him and deepened the kiss. When Harry released her hands, so that his own could wander a little, she grabbed the front of his uniform with her right and slipped the other around his back.
"Harry," Tracey mumbled against Harry's lips. "Harry," she said again, giving the small pressure point where the shoulder met the neck a small squeeze.
"What?" he growled angrily, rolling his neck to try and get rid of the stinging sensation.
"Security. They're just outside."
"Let them get their own healer," he growled, his voice become huskier.
Tracey couldn't help but laugh. "You know what I mean! They could come in any second."
"Fine," Harry grumbled, not liking having to stop. Leaning back against the cot, he took a few breaths. "But, you're going to have to make it up to me," he told her.
"Oh? Is that so?" Tracey asked, almost challenging him. There was no way she was giving Harry the upper hand.
"Since you've basically destroyed any New Year's Eve plans I could've had."
"Like you were really going to do anything," she said sarcastically.
Harry smirked as he looked down at her. "Regardless," he said, brushing aside her comment. "Dinner tomorrow?"
"I think I can squeeze you in," she answered sarcastically. "Besides, all I ever hear is how good a cook you are."
"I thought you said I wasn't supposed to overexert myself?" he asked rhetorically.
Resting her hands on his shoulder, Tracey gave him a suggestive smirk. "Since when have you ever listened to doctor's orders?"
Harry shrugged. "Luckily, I have my own personal mediwizard nearby. In case of emergency, of course."
Playfully shoving Harry's shoulders, Tracey stepped back and out of his grasp. "One of these days, I'm not going to be there to put Harry back together again," she taunted. Hearing Harry laugh at her, she grinned a little as she took up a quill, dipped it in ink and quickly wrote a few things on a piece of parchment.
Hearing Harry's footsteps, she turned to see Harry moving gingerly towards the tent flap. "And where do you think you're going? I just told you that you aren't going anywhere for the next hour or so," she said, intercepting him, and dragging him back towards the cot.
"Shower and change, then home. I've got a big night to plan for tomorrow," he answered sarcastically.
"No, right now, you're going to lay on that cot and rest."
"I'm fine," Harry whined again. "I don't need to rest."
Pushing him up against the cot, she pointed at it with a scowl until he sat back upon it. "You're barely keeping your balance," she told him, giving him a stern look for a moment. Then slowly, a small, teasing grin spread across her lips. "You'll need your rest for tomorrow. I'm planning on giving you another thorough physical."
Laying down on his side, Harry watched Tracey return to writing notes on the parchment. "Promises, promises, Doc. I don't like teases too much."
Without even looking up, Tracey countered. "I don't tease. You should learn to follow doctor's orders, you might find it could be very… beneficial to you in the long run,"she told him.
Harry snickered under his breath, understanding very clearly her double meaning to her words. What a way to ring in the New Year. Rolling onto his back, Harry let out a small breath as he tried to relax, and tried not to think of how much longer he had to stay put.