So this is yet another short story that I ahd to write for English class. I think my English teacher is getting slightly bored with all the Harry Potter stories, cause she doesn't like Harry Potter, but, well, what can I say? I do!

Disclaimer: I own nothing...obviously! Duh!

'Breaking Bones'

"Scalpel." Dr. Magenta Larsson, the leading Orthopaedic surgeon in America, said as she held out her gloved hand for the tool of her trade. One wrong slice and her patient could be dead. Dead as in cold, not breathing and lifeless…Many surgeons said that holding another human being's life in their skilled hands gave them that well known rush of adrenaline, but not Dr. Larsson. Magenta said the adrenaline lay in the deadly silence of the O.R. Sure, the various machines that were keeping the people alive and what not, were constantly buzzing and beeping, the Nurses quietly chattering about their love lives and shuffling about, but really, it all just got drained out, like blood from a body…

"Time of death: 2:25 pm."

-o-

"Chart." Dr. Larsson said, leaning against the Nurse's station, waiting for her new case: a young man who had shattered both legs in some sort of accident. The phrase: "Make it or break it." didn't apply to her. That was her job, breaking bones…

-o-

Blaise Zabini was lying in a funny smelling, muggle Hospital. Quite honestly now, he would rather be in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, but he had absolutely no means what so ever to get there, seeing as he was in America and had no wand on him anyways. His wand had been stolen from him after a duel between him and Theodore Nott, and had then, numerously, been in under attack of the Cruciatus Curse, leaving him as a result with two, badly, broken legs and no wand to get help with. Until some muggle then finally found him and brought him to this place, that is. As Blaise was counting the stripes on the wall paper, his Healer walked in, closing the door behind her."Good afternoon, Mr…" she glanced in a thick folder, "…Zabini. I'm Doctor Larsson, nice to meet you, though I should say not in these circumstances of course." The woman smiled warmly at him.

"Right. Yea. So will you be able to fix me up again?"

"Well, Mr. Zabini-"

"Please, call me Blaise. Mr. Zabini's my father." He interrupted, shuddering at the thought of his father.

"Ok, well, Blaise. From what I can see from your X-rays your legs are pretty messed up. I'm sure I can fix them, but it will be a long and hard recovery time."

"Fine, fine. That's good. As long as they get fixed." He stared at his legs, wondering what in the name of Merlin an X-ray was.

"You will be going into surgery first thing tomorrow morning. There are of course risks involved, as with any operation. Do you have any questions?"

"Ummm…no. Not right now." He glanced up at her. Blaise supposed she was quite good-looking, sure, not a Veela, but definitely no Troll. Dr. Larsson had wavy, mahogany hair that reached just past her shoulders, peachy skin and from what he could see dark brown eyes. Not bad.

-o-

"Shame he's a patient. Would have liked to meet him in 'Eddie's'" Magenta thought as she closed Blaise's chart. She had, of course, noticed him, well, his looks, and it seemed to her so had the entire congregation of Nurses… Blaise had dark, caramel skin that looked like it would just melt off his God-like body, a sweet English accent and bright indigo eyes that looked like spheres of perfect sapphire…perfect in every way.

-o-

"Blaise, Blaise, wake up." Dr. Larsson gently shook her patients arm. "It's over. Time to wake up now!"

"Hmmm?" Blaise's eyelids slowly opened as if lead were hanging off of them. "Ishid finsched?" He slurred throught the anaesthetics.

"Yes, Blaise, it's finished. The operation went throught without complications, and though you'll have to go through an awful lot of pain in the long recovery time, you will be able to walk and do sports again." She informed him, not quite knowing how much of this he was really taking in and how much she'd have to repeat again in a few hours time.

-o-

"Look, Maggie! I'm walking!" Blaise grinned through gritted teeth. It hurt. A lot! Not quite as much as the Cruciatus Curse…but close enough, which wasn't in the least bit pleasant.

"Great, Blaise! You really are making extraordinary progress! Just one foot in front of the other…easy does it now!" She added on as Blaise sagged against the wall.

He couldn't believe he was having to learn how to walk again…dignity no longer existed. Brilliant. Just what he always wanted."You know, when I'm up and running again, I will take you out to dinner. You deserve it. I've watched you, you never get a moments peace and quiet in this place. And also because you saved my life, in a way."

"Well…I don't know…"

"I owe it to you, and could you really resist a sick -very handsome- man?" He asked innocently, batting his long lashes.

"Well, if you insist!" Magenta , now Maggie to him, rolled her eyes as she sat on a table.

-o-

"Where do you usually go when you're off work?" Blaise asked as he just strolled out of the hospital doors with his hands in his pockets. He was free, released and healthy…and about time too. He didn't think he would have lasted another hour in that horrible sterile environment.

"Usually to 'Eddie's', the local bar. You know, to get a few drinks." Maggie said, wrapping a shawl around her neck.

"Well off to 'Eddie's' we go! I could really do with a drink. Did you know they wouldn't give me any booze?" He sounded horrified at the idea.

"That's the point, Blaise. If you hadn't noticed it's a hospital. People go there to get healthy and not to turn into alcoholics." She laughed, nudging him in the ribs.

Two hours and a full bottle of 'Patron Tequila' later, and Blaise and Maggie were all over each other. It was never meant to go this way, but well, what were you supposed to do, right?

"Guys I think you should really go home." Eddie, the bar owners voice, came through to them.

" 'Ome ish a gooooooood ideaaaa!" Maggie giggled, latching on to Blaise's arm. "Letsch go to my plashe!" And so they staggered away…hiccupping in the process…

-o-

"Ughhh…!" Maggie groaned, holding her head. A hangover…yes, that was generally what you got after drinking too much…among other things…how could she have forgotten?

"Blaise?" she turned over in bed, squinting at the brightness of the world. But the space on the other side of her bed was empty, neatly made, but empty. Maggie got up, wrapping the sheet around her for, at least some, decency. She walked into the kitchen, smelling more than seeing, that Blaise had made her coffee. That was nice.

After she had drunken her coffee and had a shower, Maggie stumbled back into her bedroom rubbing her moist hair with a fluffy green towel. She was about to dump this towel on the bed when she realised that, on the neatly made side of it lay a magenta rose and two theatre tickets. That was sweet.

-o-

Things were going well for Blaise and Maggie. They had been dating for about five months now, and were happy. The topic of moving-in was getting ever more frequent and ever more exciting. They had secretly been looking at houses by themselves…without telling the other one, in case it was seen as too pushy or too foreword. A funny couple.

-o-

Maggie was on-call for the next 14 hours, then she would be free to go home, home to Blaise.

Her pager, hanging from the waistband of her scrubs, started buzzing and beeping like a bee trapped under a glass jar. '911' lit up on the small screen, she started running down to the E.R., towards her next patient.

"Doctor Larsson! Doctor Larsson! Finally!" An intern threw up her arms on seeing her coming. "32 year old male, brought in-" The exited intern started reciting eagerly, but Magenta had stopped listening, for, lying on the gurney was Blaise. Her Blaise. He looked like death had come knocking at his door, all pale as if finally the dark caramel had been melted away by the glistening beads of sweat on his body and face.

"No. Oh, no, no, no, no, no! What happened!" She directed frantically at the jumpy intern.

"Just told you doctor."

"What the hell happened to him! And wipe that stupid grin off your face!" She snapped back. Maggie really couldn't put up with those ignorant puppies right now.

"Um, he fainted in the middle of walking across a road, and he's running a temperature of 42.5 degrees Celsius. It seems both his legs are strongly inflamed pointing to an infection from an operation he had seven months ago." The intern counted off on her fingers.

"Schedule an O.R.!" Magenta directed, softly prodding Blaise's pulsating legs.

"Now?" The intern enquired.

"Yes now! Or does he look like he'll last another week to you?"

"No." mumbled the intern "And," she added "are you doing the surgery doctor?"

"No, of course not. I'm his girlfriend! And if you had bothered to read the hospital policy, you would know that it goes against the rules for a operation to take place if the affected know each other!" Ugh, one of these days she was going to kill an intern, it was just a matter of time."But you really don't have a choice doctor Larsson, you're the only attending surgeon on-call…" the girl flinched as if expecting to be slapped or something."Oh. My. God! Just schedule the damned surgery and I'll do it!" Dr. Larsson bellowed like an enraged lioness causing the jittery, inferior gazelle to flee and get that O.R. set up.

-o-

Clear silence. The machine's continuous beeping and buzzing, the nurses chatter and shuffling, all drained out like blood from a body…

Anger. Frustration. Sorrow.

Flatline...

THE END