Standard Disclaimer

Distractions

Mr H. Potter

I most urgently request your presence at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Miss Hermione Granger has been admitted.

Alfred T. Farnsworth

Healer of Magical Fracas

Harry scrunched the note in his hand as he strode towards the admittance desk in the lobby of St Mungo's, his face pale and drawn with worry for his friend. He had no idea what could have happened to her to have caused her admittance. Hermione worked in a quiet desk job for the Ministry; she lived in a small house in rural Dorset and kept mostly to herself. Nothing in her life of even remotely dangerous anymore.

"I'm here to see Hermione Granger." He said as the receptionist greeted him.

"Oh, yes, Mr Potter." She twittered, "She's on the fourth floor."

Harry spun round and headed for the stairs, his worry increasing. Hermione, on the fourth floor? What spells had she been working on that caused damage?

He reached the ward, out of breath and red in the face, stumbling to a stop at the reception to ask for her room.

"Miss Granger is in treatment room three, Mr Potter." The nurse said kindly, directing him down the hallway to his left.

He jogged down the corridor, and stopped in front of the window of Treatment Room 3. Hermione lay on a bed inside, unconscious. He burst through the door and the healer attending her looked up.

"Ah, Mr Potter. Alfred T. Farnsworth, pleasure to meet you." He offered his hand to shake and Harry took it absently.

"How is she?"

"She's recovering nicely. I'm afraid we had to sedate her, the screaming was too much to bear."

Harry tore his eyes away from his friend to stare at her healer, surprised by his lack of propriety.

"What exactly happened to her?"

"What? Oh, she was quite badly splinched." The healer nodded to himself, ignorant of Harry's growing rage.

"And you think her screaming was not warranted?" Harry asked, his voice dangerously low.

Still the healer seemed not to have noticed, "Not at all. Quite disturbing for the other patients."

Harry stared at him, unable to believe that this man was a healer.

"Disrupted the entire ward." The healer continued, "We had to sedate both of them."

"Both?"

Harry noticed, then, the other bed in the room.

Lying two metres away, in a similar state to his friend, was Draco Malfoy.

"His mother shouldn't be too far behind you." Alfred added, as the door opened once more and Lady Malfoy swept in.

"What has happened to my son?" She demanded imperiously of the healer, sparing Harry only the barest of cursory nods.

"He was rather badly splinched, Ma'am." He answered.

Narcissa glided across the floor to Draco's cot and poked him cautiously. "And he is recovering?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Satisfied that her son was still breathing and largely whole (he'd flinched away from her intrusive finger), Narcissa turned her questioning glance toward the other occupant of the room. "And why is Miss Granger here?"

"They were brought in together." Alfred replied, managing to remain completely calm and unruffled by the shock his one simple statement was sure to unleash.

Harry's mouth fell open in surprise while Narcissa merely huffed, assuming that Hermione had found Draco in his injured state.

"I shall be sure to thank her then, when she wakes."

"I believe you misunderstand me, Ma'am." Alfred corrected her. "They were brought in together because they were splinched together."

Narcissa's eyes grew wide and she looked incredulously between the two patients. She turned a rather harsh glare on the healer, whose self-confidence was somewhat shaken by it, and demanded an explanation.

Drawing up the last flagging remains of his self-worth, Alfred T. Farnsworth managed to usher the two out of the room.

As the door closed behind them, one of Draco's eyes flicked open and he glanced around the now quiet room.

"Granger?"

"Shh."

"This is your fault." He hissed, raising his head so he could glare across at her.

Hermione spluttered in shocked outrage, "My fault? You're the idiot who tried to apparate while inebriated. I told you…"

"You were just as drunk as me!" He hissed back, rolling onto his side so he could face her.

"I was not." She spat, facing him now, "Besides, you can't deny it."

"That wasn't what got us splinched and you know it!"

"You're blaming me!" She gasped as her face flooded with red and she rolled back onto her back to stare at the ceiling. Draco released his grip on the cot and followed suit, choosing to remain silent until he heard an apology.

"Draco?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

He sighed, bring one hand up to massage his forehead, "The cat's out of the bag now."

"I'm sorry about that too."

They lay in silence for a minute or two, hearing the distant outcry as his mother yelled at the hospital staff for telling awful lies about her son and while Harry tried to calm everybody down.

Then Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled himself upright. His shirt hung off him in tatters, his pants weren't much better, and he glanced over at her as Hermione laughed.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded, pushing herself into a sitting position and hugging the ribbons of her top around her.

"Should we go?"

She rolled her eyes at him as she hopped off the bed and he smiled at her, "Because that would make everything better."

"It would make me feel better." He grinned as he walked carefully toward her.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"I'm not drunk now."

She stifled a laugh and shook her head.

"There are no wards over the hospital."

"You want to try again?"

"Sure." He pulled her into his arms and held her tight, "Just don't kiss me while I'm apparating this time."

A/N: Happy New Year Everybody. I hope you enjoyed this little peice. Hopefully it will mark the beginning of a very productive year.