Nurse Lily, that was what some of the more permanent residents called her. She had explained more than a hundred times that she was simply an intern but it never fazed them in the slightest. Not that she minded, it was a nice title that would earn her respect as she worked her way up to doctor. She wanted to be the best of the best, and she wasn't about to give up now.

It'd been a few months since she'd graduated, and ever since, it'd been one long battle. Her supervisor hated her, a big burly man with poor hygiene and even worse communication skills. He made his opinion known that he didn't like female doctors, and wound up shoving the worst jobs on her. After the first month, she'd requested a transfer to a different cluster. After all, there were five clusters on her floor, it should have been possible. But it had been denied.

Miffed, she got in the elevator, sore from scrubbing down bedpans. He stepped in next to her, waited until they'd started down before stopping the elevator. She reached to start it again, but he was faster. Her back was shoved against the wall, his hands groping her. His breath smelled like whiskey and she knew he had been drinking on the job again. She recognized a dangerous man when she saw one, fought with everything she had as he shoved his tongue in her mouth. Her nails scraped against his neck, his arms, leaving gashes and welts in his skin. She bit his lips and his tongue. But everything she did only seemed to excite him more. When his hand slipped under the waistband of her scrubs, his teeth grazed over the base of her throat, she screamed.

Her hands came up, shoving his face away as her legs pushed. His balance was off, he fell and smacked his head on the railing that wound through the entire elevator. She kicked his head, only once, just to make sure he couldn't go anywhere. The elevator jerked to life before she could do anything, hurriedly, she did her best to fix her appearance, but she knew her makeup was running. Tears were not unexpected, as she was aware. People would know, the moment she stepped out of the elevator, and she didn't care.

There was large gasp, not all from one person, as she stepped out. Some of the nurses and a few interns were there, and standing in the middle of them was the doctor she'd spoken to about a transfer. His was the head cluster, the one everyone longs to be a part of, they got to help diagnose and cure. While most of the other were left on janitorial duties. Women fluttered around her and offered everything from finishing him off to a cup of tea, but her eyes stayed steady on his. "I find it pertinent to request an immediate transfer of station due to personal differences with my supervisor, sir."

"Request granted." He frowned at the man in the elevator, there was always one. "Take the rest of the day and report to my station at 9 a.m. for reassignment."

"Thank you, sir." She let someone lead her to another elevator and outside, they couldn't apparate inside, like they couldn't at Hogwarts.

The moment she got home, she took a very long and very hot bath. Curled up with her hair wet and smelling like the lavender, she was ready to sleep, so close to sleep when there was a knock on the door. She got up, turned on the lights of her cramped apartment as she walked. The light tank top and shorts she were wearing didn't concern her, people who knocked on their doors got what they got, nor did she care about how her place looked. But she was concerned that who ever was behind the door would see her eyes and take pity on her. She didn't want pity.

She opened the door, blinked. "Mr. Weasley, what are you doing at my door on a night such as this?"

His hand came up to his hair, tried to figure it out himself. He'd taken a look at her and forgotten everything, all that leg and the smile she wore even when her eyes were sad. "Geez, Mr. Weasley is my father, I'm just Ron." Then he remembered, he was doing a favor. "Mel wanted me to stop by, check up on you."

"You're soft on her." Tanya leaned against the door, "You hate her uncle, her cousin, and her mother, but your soft on her."

"Yeah, I..." He took a good look at her, his eyes narrowed. There was something about her, something off. He leaned against the counter as he watched her. "Something you want to talk about?"

The door slammed as she looked at him incredulously. "No, and if you don't mind, I've had a long day and don't appreciate the company." She could feel something slip inside her, and she wanted him gone. Within the next second if it was possible. "Please, I need you to go."

"What happened?" He stepped toward her. Out of reflex, she backed up quickly, knocking into a lamp and winced when it shattered into a million little pieces. She bend down to look at the floor, knelt down simply because she didn't want him to see the tears that had suddenly hit her. The combination of that flash of fright, the smashing of her favorite lamp, and the events of the day broke what little of her control she had. And if he didn't get out in the next four minutes, she was going to throw something.

He watched her, saw the shivers pass over her skin, she reached up to brush the hair over her shoulder. It was then he saw the scratches across her neck, red and new, and he saw the bruises on her wrists, blooming purple and blue. "Did somebody hurt you?"

"It's nothing." She pulled out her wand, repaired the lamp. Staring at it, she swore she could hear something crack inside of her, if only a soul could be fixed with a simple incantation. A sound escaped her throat as she clasped her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's taken care of." She managed to get out clearly.

He went to her, was on the ground next to her, his fingers an inch above the bruises at her wrists. "What happened?"

She broke, a sob overtook her as Ron reached out for her. He just held her as she cried, waited her out. It infuriated him as he held tight, nothing was supposed to bring this much pain to a person, this was what he and Harry were supposed to be fighting against. She didn't have to suffer, she was supposed to be able to trust whoever hurt her so terribly.

The sobs stopped a while later, he looked down at her. She was leaning against him, clinging to the arm that was wrapped around her. When he reached over to brush her hair away from her face, she was asleep.

Carefully, he lifted her, carried her through the open door to her room. Her blankets were already folded down, made it easier to lay her down and pull the blanket over her. He walked out, was halfway out the door before he stopped himself.

What was he doing? He couldn't just leave her, not when she was in this condition. And that just brought on another, less comfortable question. Why did he care so much? It wasn't like they were friends, or like they even had the potential. He was just doing a favor for his best friend's adopted daughter, they'd only met three or four times before this. He owed her nothing. He wanted nothing of an emotional woman with the temper of a heavy weight champion. He just didn't. So how did he get stuck in this position? Caught between leaving and some transparent obligation he couldn't explain.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, he took the couch, and didn't even bother removing his coat.

The light filtered in through her open window, the sun warming her face as she yawned and stretched. She sat up, ran her hand through her tangled hair. Staring at the slightly open bedroom door, she remembered that Ron had been there. Was he so disgusted with her that he wouldn't come around a second time? It was odd that she hoped not, that she found herself hoping that maybe he was still here as she changed into her scrubs and walked out into the living room. And found herself alone.

Sitting on the table in her small eating nook was a cup of coffee, still warm. Underneath it was a note written in scrawling but legible handwriting.

Tanya,

I hoped to still be here when you woke up, but I just got a message from the boss, duty calls. The coffee, I charmed it to stay warm until you wake up. So if it's cold, don't drink it, I may not have gotten it right. Good luck.

Ronald Weasley

She grinned, picked it up to take a sip. What she tasted had her sputtering. She drank her coffee black, the stronger the better, but this was divine. So much so that it had startled her. It tasted as decadent as chocolate and when down smoother than her usual coffee. She stared at it for a second, wondering how he'd made it, then just shrugged. She took another drink before setting it down to finish getting ready for work.

When she was finally ready she finished off the coffee, just as warm as it had been when she put it down. "Full of surprises." She muttered to herself as she apparated into the ally behind St. Mungo's.

Somewhere behind him, a tree fell, he kept running. Crazy to take this job, he told himself for more than the hundredth time since Harry offered it years ago. Fumbling, he swore as he almost dropped his wand. He threw a curse at someone,couldn't see who, and he kept running toward the problem. Harry had fallen behind, caught in a bind, surrounded by several of this guy's minions. So he was alone.

He came to a halt. Standing there was something he never expected to see. She was stunning, taller that humanly possible, slender and slightly curvy. The short, short skirt left miles of leg and there was lots of skin between that and the bikini top she was sporting. Ebony hair ran sleek and straight down her back. Electric blue eyes sparkled out at him from underneath straight and heavy bangs. She just smiled at him, raised her wand.

He snapped out of his shock, it wasn't really that surprising that the mastermind was a woman. With his sister, Hermione, and his mom, he knew women could do everything a man could, if not better. Just as he knew a trap when he saw one. A woman like her would know how to play a man, even if he was on the other side of a battle. And he wasn't about to be taken in so easily.

When she moved to strike, he beat her to it. "Palliata animus rapio!" It seemed to form from the tip of his wand, a dementor fully grown and realistic. An illusion only, one Hermione had come up with, but it fooled even the bravest of opponents.

It worked, as far as the woman was concerned, she stumbled back, reacted accordingly. She summoned her patronus, a swan. It flew through the air and through his dementor, destroying it. He ducked, threw his arms up to protect himself. There was a flash of pain in his left arm and warm spread over his skin.

Harry shouted, having finally caught up, fired something at the the woman. Her patronus dropped and so did the illusion she seemed to have on herself. Harry stared at her as she shrunk, her pale skin turned just a little darker, her eyes turned brown and tilted. A face so familiar that he didn't react as she apparated away.

Ron was holding his arm, his fingers overflowing with blood as he looked at Harry. "Next time my sister's life is threatened by a cell of crazies, let's just stop and think things through before we go charging in. I mean, we know better than that, and if Ginny finds out, she'll kill you."

Harry reached up to touch the cut along his cheek bone. "Let's end this time before we worry about the next." He grimaced at Ron's arm, "You might want to wrap that, then go to St. Mungo's."

"I'm fine." Ron argued as he tore a piece off of his shirt and wrapped it around his arm. Harry tied it for him.

"Have you ever been bitten by a patronus before?" Harry's eyebrow raised as Ron shook his head. "Neither have I, and we're not taking any chances."