Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Scrubs and I don't earn any money with this story.

Author's note: Harry should have probably done something to earn Perry's attention, but I don't really care. This plot bunny's been jumping around my head for the last two years or so and I'm glad it's finally in the open. I'm pretty sure there won't be a sequel, so please don't ask for one, thanks.

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Don't think there are any.

When Harry woke up, he felt like a herd of Hippogryffs had trampled him down.

His head was pounding, his limbs were aching and opening his eyes equalled torture on par with the Cruciatus. Well, maybe not quite that bad, but it was still pretty painful. And too bright. And bloody difficult, too. Had someone glued his eye lids shut, or something? At least his vision wasn't blurry - hooray for magical contact lenses! But now that he thought about it, he couldn't quite move the rest of his body either. Perhaps the Petrificus Totalus hadn't stopped, yet?

"Good Morning Mr. Whiteby! We're very ha- ha- happy" Was that bloke actually singing? "that you're back in the kingdom of consciousness with us again. I'm Dr. Dorian, your attending physician, and we'll get you out of here in no time at all! But first I want to ask you..."

Harry inwardly groaned and tried to stop listening after the first five minutes of irrelevant drivel, which he, unfortunately, had no way of stopping.

"Shut up, Carol, before you bore him right back to unconsciousness! I'll take over."

Oh, thank Merlin! Harry couldn't see the second person from his current vantage point, but he was already a fan of the man! His opinion manifested, when several pillows were stuffed behind his back and he was finally in a position to look at his rescuer. His… rather good-looking rescuer, he had to admit.

"Just ignore newbie." Harry briefly shifted his gaze to Dr. Dorian, who seemed to have some kind of weird daydream, if the utterly stupid look on his face was anything to go by. "He's been dropped on his head too often, when he was still a kid. Anyway, I'm Dr. Cox and you're currently in Sacred Heart Hospital after being hit by a car. Among other things you have a concussion, so before explaining further, I'd like to check your mental receptiveness. I'm aware that you're currently unable to move, so two blinks for 'yes', three for 'no', alright? Good, first question - Was newbie annoying you?"

Harry blinked twice, causing the older man to grin in satisfaction.

"Marvellous! That's pretty much a sure sign that your brain works perfectly! Do you remember your name?"

Another two blinks, although he wasn't the person they thought he was - namely Adrian Whiteby.

A group of British wizards and witches had designed a new drug and sold it throughout Europe. After several of their hide-outs and laboratories had been found, they had relocated to America to resume their 'business' there. Being one of the key Aurors, who had dealt with them before, Harry had come to the United States to finally put all of them behind bars. For some undercover work he had assumed the identity Adrian Whiteby, who even had all his records in order.

Unfortunately, a drug bust had gone wrong, Harry had given chase to a dealer and been hit by a Petrificus Totalus. Cue car and blacking out.

Of course there was no way to tell them all that without the use of his mouth or without staying out of the loony bin, so a double-blink it was.

Several easy questions later, Dr. Cox nodded.

"Right, coming back to your paralysis. It's gotten a bit better since you've been admitted. We don't think it's due to the accident. We've found a, so far unidentified, snake venom in your blood stream, which seems to be the cause of it. Do you know anything about it?"

Harry was pretty sure Dr. Cox was talking about the remnants of basilisk venom that had been inside his body for more than fifteen years now and which made him impervious to most poisons. How to explain something like that to a muggle, though?

He blinked three times and listened to the next steps of his treatment, which mainly consisted of tests and painkillers. He wondered if the American DMLE had started looking for him, yet, or when he would be capable of informing the hospital staff of their contact information. Nobody had remembered to ask whether he wanted to notify someone of his current whereabouts or not. Great.

During the next few days Harry spent his copious amounts of time waiting, observing and eavesdropping. To formulate it mildly, this hospital was weird, especially the physicians – Wheelchair races between internists and surgeons? Really? - and the care taker, who seemed to get a kick out of making Dr. Dorian's life miserable. To each his own.

The main focus of his observations, however, was Dr. Percival Ulysses Cox – With a name like that, he'd fit right into the magical world. The man reminded him somewhat of Severus Snape. He was a bastard to just about everyone, but was brilliant at and devoted to his job. Helping a patient without insurance by drastically breaking several rules had impressed Harry a lot.

The most curious thing about Dr. Cox, however, was his constant presence at the brunet's bedside. Sure, he was his attending physician, but Harry was pretty sure that plumping up cushions, bringing him painkillers and holding his water glass, were all tasks handled by nurses. The slightly conflicted grimace on Perry's face and the surprised look worn by everyone else clued Harry in on the exceptional character of the situation.

After about a week he finally managed to utter the first, albeit slurred, words. The American DMLE was contacted not half an hour later. Harry was very glad Hermione had been heavily pregnant the last time he had seen her, which meant she wouldn't be the one to get him out of the hospital. He was save from being chewed out for at least another half a day and then only by Floo.

Dr. Cox had his fingers entwined behind his head, when Harry was helped into a wheelchair for his discharge. An Auror colleague had come to presumably bring him to a specialised hospital. In truth, he would finally be free of the Petrificus Totalus within the next ten minutes.

Harry, always a man of action, stepped into Sacred Heart Hospital with a determined look on his face, which started to waver, when he hadn't found his target after more than thirty minutes of search.

"Mr. Whiteby?"

Harry abruptly stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around. It figured. Half an hour of fruitless running around and in the end it was Dr. Cox who found him. Well, he had reached his goal either way, so he wouldn't dwell on it too much.

"It's actually Harrison Potter. Harry for short."

Perry looked at him like he was about to suggest another head examination. Harry grinned amusedly.

"Don't worry, I'm mostly not crazy, just in law enforcement and the accident happened during an undercover mission, hence the name Adrian Whiteby. I could tell you some actual facts about myself, while we have a drink, if you want?"

For being such a witty bastard, Dr. Cox was eerily good at imitating a deer caught in headlights crossed with a gaping fish. Fortunately, he composed himself fairly quickly.

"My shift ends in about two hours."

And, surprising even himself, Perry actually turned up for their 'date'.