A/N: I don't own anything : ) My muse has apparently been at an all-time influence at the moment. Enjoy it while it lasts! Rate and Reviews are always appreciated!

Bail ó Dhia ort
Meaning "The blessing of God on you"

Hermione had spent the better part of her evening making a list of all the charms that would be helpful around the bar. Her notepad held a feverish amount of writing that would be indecipherable to anyone who wasn't accustomed to her writing. It was at that moment that the room phone started to ring.

"Hello?" she said, picking up the receiver.

"Hermione? It's Tracy. I need you to come down to the bar as soon as possible. Stop first and get rubbing alcohol, bandages, and any other medical supplies that look promising. Please hurry!" Tracy's voice was urgent and sketchy, almost as if she was watching something awful. Worried, Hermione hung up the phone and grabbed her wallet. She ran out the door and hustled down the stairs.

Thankfully there was a Rite Aid right on the way to McGuinty's, and Hermione took a minute to calm herself before walking inside the store. She grabbed a basket and headed towards the first aid aisle. Rubbing alcohol went into the basket next to sterile pads, gloves, bandages, gauze, tape, and a variety of braces, as well as some anti-infection gel. She also grabbed saltine crackers and a bottle of ginger ale. The cashier gave her a rather odd look but Hermione was able to pay and leave without a problem.

Hermione hurried towards the bar, mentally reviewing every healing spell that she knew. She burst into the bar and found it empty. "Tracy?" she called frantically. She heard a loud thump in the back, followed by a muffled groan. Quickly, she headed into the kitchen and let out a startled gasp.

The scene in front of her was tinged in the bright red color of blood. Bloody footsteps led from the side entrance to the kitchen to the center island where Murphy was currently being held down by an older man and his brother, while Tracy was frantically trying to stop the bleeding from a wound on his side.

After taking a deep breath, Hermione moved forward. She pulled over a stool and set all of the medical supplies on it. Pulling on a pair of gloves, she pulled out some gauze pads and motioned for Tracy to step aside and wash her hands. She looked apologetically at Murphy before pressing against the wound that appeared, from the quick glance Hermione had of it, to be from a bullet grazing his side. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and focused on helping the man in front of her.

"Tracy, give me the rubbing alcohol and fresh gauze pads," Hermione commanded, which seemed to snap Tracy awake. Her new found friend handed her the items she asked for and stood a bit off to the side. Hermione offered her an encouraging smile before slowly peeling off the gauze between Murphy's body and her hand. The blood flow had stopped for the most part and Hermione could see that the blood was starting to clot. She traded with Tracy and poured some rubbing alcohol onto the clean gauze pads. "This is going to sting," Hermione warned Murphy, before gently pressing the pad against the wound. All he did was hiss.

Taking this as a good sign, Hermione began to clean the edges of the wound and the dried blood on his skin. She could tell that he was hurting, but she knew this would help him. She motioned for Tracy to bring the supplies over to her.

"Thanks," Hermione said, before taking the antiseptic and applying it liberally to a large bandage. She placed the bandage against Murphy's wound and held it. "Tracy, can you hold this for me?" she asked, moving to let Tracy take her place.

"I'm going to wrap your whole stomach so that the bandage stays in place," Hermione explained. She took the gauze roll and started it where Tracy was holding the bandage. Slowly, she began to wrap the gauze around his stomach, which required her to be particularly close to his bare skin. Pushing the uncomfortable feelings away, she finished wrapping his bandages and taped the bandages shut.

Satisfied with her work, she looked around the room at each person. "Anyone else needs a patch job?" she asked, somewhat warily. Both Connor and the elderly man shook their heads no, and Tracy just gave her a slightly amused look. "Good." She walked out to the bar and took a seat.

There was some bustling going on in the back, but Hermione wasn't interested in it. Instead, she chose to rest her head on the bar top. A few minutes later, hesitant footsteps were walking towards her. A hand softly rested itself on her shoulder.

"Thanks," a hoarse voice said, in a tone that sounded pained. Hermione had heard that kind of voice before and it brought her back to her NEWT level Potions class. Professor Snape had sounded that way the day after he'd come back from Voldemort's side. Defeated and in pain, though Professor Snape did his best to hide it. He certainly never commented on the fact that he would always find vials of complicated healing potions on his desk at the end of the period labeled with her handwriting.

Shaking her head in order to put herself more firmly into the present, Hermione looked up and found herself caught in Murphy's deep brown eyes. "It's ah…not a problem," she replied hesitantly. Murphy cocked an eyebrow and came to sit next to her.

"It looked like you've got experience bandaging people up," he commented lightly, though Hermione knew he was probably looking for information along with the rest of the people in the back room. I guess he drew the short straw, Hermione thought to herself.

She shrugged noncommittally. "Who was the old guy?" she asked instead.

Murphy chuckled. "That would be Da, and I'd advise ye to not call him old to his face," he replied with a smile. Hermione nodded in understanding and the lapsed into silence.

Thoughts were swirling around in Hermione's mind. She had so many questions and she knew she had a bit to explain herself. After ten minutes of contemplation and a heavy sigh, Hermione faced Murphy. "Where I went to school, in Scotland, I had two best friends. They were both boys, and they loved getting into trouble. I've spent the last seven years patching them up," she informed him softly, her eyes unfocused as she remembered all the scrapes they had been in and how much of an understatement she had just said.

Murphy didn't question her. She wasn't surprised. All it took to get Murphy in a sharing mood was to look at him much in the same way she looked at a book when she wanted its answers.

"My Da and my brother like to get into mischief too," he admitted quietly. "I go along with them, o'course, but there's only so much I can do." Murphy shrugged. "I've had worse injuries," he added, though that worried Hermione more than it soothed her.

Wordlessly, she grabbed a bar napkin and a pen, writing down her cell phone number. She passed it to him. "If you guys need bandaging again," she explained. She stood and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'll come by and check the bandages tomorrow night." With that, Hermione walked out the door and back to her dorm room.

She was exhausted, mentally and physically. She hardly registered the unassuming tawny owl until it hooted shrilly. "I'm coming," she grumbled and took the letter off its leg. The owl flew off without a sound and Hermione fell into bed. Within seconds, she was fast asleep.