Pairing: HP/TR and an assortment of others
Disclaimer: I don't really own Harry Potter or Grey's Anatomy (which this was inspired by).
Note: Fairest was giving me a really hard time since it's always so dark and heavy. It's usually around this really plot heavy time that I hit writer's block, so here's a light-hearted medical dramedy.
Diagnosis
Chapter Four
They were loud.
They were so damn loud.
Harry groaned as he tossed and turned in his bed, pulling his pillow over his head. Even from a floor up, he could hear his three housemates laughing and joking in the kitchen, the clinking of dishes. Harry shut his eyes tight and groaned, attempting to will himself back to sleep.
A dish crashed into the kitchen and there was a loud yelp.
So, sleep was something that wasn't going to happen, then.
Harry groped his side table for his glasses and wand, jamming his glasses on his face and lazily casting a spell. "Tempus."
As Harry caught sight of the time, he felt his heart stop. And then, he threw himself out of bed, falling to the ground with a loud thump. He whined and jumped up, running towards his wardrobe, sifting through it for an appropriate outfit. He yanked out an oversized jumper from an old conquest at Hogwarts and wrestled a pair of jeans onto his body. They were holey and nearly falling apart but, they would do.
Barefoot, he ran from the room, crashing down the stairs, and he threw himself into the kitchen.
His housemates all looked up at him, owl-eyed. There was a breakfast spread on the kitchen table. Toast with jams and butter, fluffy scrambled eggs—the only thing Ron could make—and muffins, probably courtesy of Hermione. Neville slowly took a bite out of his toast, his head tilted in confusion."
"Good morning to you too," Hermione said.
"I'm late," Harry said as a greeting, reaching for a piece of toast off Neville's plate.
"Get your own food!" Neville protested.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear me say I'm late? For once, thank Merlin, for your inconsiderate screaming."
"It's nearly noon," Ron retorted.
Harry pretended that he didn't hear the man, instead munching on the toast. It went down his throat dry and he coughed, lightly. He danced across the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards for a mug.
"There's tea, if you want," Hermione called.
Harry's lip curled. It was too early for tea. Tea wouldn't wake him up or give him the will to go on. Coffee, it would be.
"No, thanks," Harry said. "What were you all screaming about this morning?"
He didn't see them all exchanged glances. Neville poked Ron in the shoulder and waved his hand towards Harry. Harry swallowed a mouthful of eggs and cleared his throat.
"We were thinking of throwing a housewarming party!" Ron declared.
Neville, Ron, and Hermione all started speaking over one another, eager in their agreement. Harry rolled his eyes as he banged on the magical coffee machine, trying to make it work. He sighed in relief as it began to spit out the black sludge that he needed to get through the day.
"It's not a housewarming party if I was already living here," Harry said, dryly. He picked up his drink and downed it, wincing as it scalded his tongue, setting it on fire but suddenly it felt numb.
Well, there went his taste buds.
"We weren't living here. Everyone should see our new place," Hermione said.
Harry scoffed. "This place is dark and sad and filthy."
"Like your soul," Neville muttered under his breath.
Harry drew his wand, pointing it. "What was that, Neville?"
"I mean...you're not the only dark and twisty person in the house. I could be talking about anyone," Neville said, slowly looking over at Hermione. Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"I am not—"
"Yes, you are," Ron and Neville said together.
Harry pursed his lips. "Look. You want to throw a party? Fine. Just...don't be arses about it. I've got to go."
"Where are you going? We have work tonight!" Hermione called as Harry tossed his mug in the sink and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
"I know that. I have lunch with my godfather—our landlord—and my father," Harry said, wincing as he thought about his dad.
"You...you've literally never spoken about your dad," Hermione murmured.
"Yeah, you know how I don't really like my mum? I don't really fuck with my dad either. But, I'm going to be the adult. Look at that...we're adults now!" Harry crowed, full of false enthusiasm as he backed out of the condition. He ignored their wide-eyed nervousness. "When did that happen?"
The three watched as Harry disappeared from the kitchen and just a few moments later, out of the house. They all looked at one another.
"Merlin, he's a mess of mommy and daddy issues," Ron said.
Hermione smacked him over the head with The Daily Prophet.
"Don't let him hear you say that," she warned. "Now, who are we inviting to this party?"
"I was thinking some of the younger matrons," Ron said, waggling his eyebrows at Neville. Neville flushed though his lips quirked up into a small smile. "Thank Merlin that Harry agreed. I've been telling people about this for a week and, there's this one fit blonde nurse that I'd like to...talk to."
Hermione gagged.
"Disgusting," Hermione muttered. She shook it off and looked at all of them. "Jocks only. That means Spell Damage, E&T, Mind, and Creature-Induced."
"We can't just leave out Potions and Poison!" Neville squawked. He suddenly fell quieter and looked down. "And...I may have invited the Head of the Children's Ward. She's quirky but cool."
"You invited the primary schoolers?" Hermione demanded. She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You know what…we'll just spread this word of mouth. Try to get some more alcohol. Now, we don't have much time. We have a 6-hour shift today. Let's get this shit together."
DIAGNOSIS
Harry paused outside of the cafe area and took a deep breath. He straightened his jumper and jacket in the cafe window's reflection and then nodded once. He stared at the outside area, and saw them, quietly talking to one another. Harry pasted a small smile on her face and he nodded at the host as we walked over to the small garden table.
Aurors Sirius Black and James Potter looked up, bright smiles spreading across their faces as Harry settled himself in the chair across from them.
"Harry! How are you?" Sirius asked, reaching across the table to clap Harry's shoulder. He squeezed once, smiling softly.
Harry swallowed his nerves. "I'm good! It's good to see you," he smiled. Then, his gaze softened as he looked at his father for the time in months. "To see you both."
"I've missed you, Harry," James said, solemnly.
Harry's smile widened somewhat and a rush of warmth spread through his entire body. Instead of figuring out how an emotionally adjusted person would respond, he awkwardly looked at the menu, searching for something cheap and filling. He paused over the bangers and mash. He winced when he felt eyes on him and slowly he looked up. They were both staring at him with wide eager smiles.
"What?" Harry muttered.
"Just...you're a Healer," James said, looking at his son in awe. "I'm so proud of you, Harry!"
"Thanks," Harry said. "I'm not a Healer yet though. I'm just a trainee."
"You've already assisted on a procedure! I know that you assisted on Riddle's internal procedure on your first day. That's a massive accomplishment!" Sirius cheered and Harry swallowed at the mention of Riddle.
"Yeah, I did. But, it could've easily been my friend Hermione too."
James and Sirius exchanged long looks.
"You have friends?" James asked, softly. "Tell us about them."
"Well...they're my housemates too," Harry allowed.
Sirius' eyes widened. "So, you're not living in that decrepit hole all by yourself? That's good! That's really good, Harry. Tell us about your friends."
"They're my team. Hermione Granger. She's a Muggleborn. She's incredible. Really smart and talented. A bit of an asshole sometimes, but all intelligent people are. She wants to be a Spell Damage specialist. Like me. And then, there's Ron Weasley—" Harry said.
"I know the Weasleys! His dad works at the Ministry?" James asked.
Harry looked at him in surprise and he slowly nodded. "Yeah, he does. Ron wants to be Spell Damage but, I don't know if that'll be what he does. He's got a lot of talent too but, I don't think he really likes Spell Damage. I think he wants the glory. It's the glamorous one. And then, there's Neville Longbottom. You definitely know his parents."
"Yeah. Alice and Frank," Sirius said, firmly. Harry nodded in confirmation. "Alice is the hit wizard and Frank is an Auror. Both really talented. I'm surprised he didn't go into the family business."
Harry shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, I think he's going to be great in his field. He exceeded the Outstandings grade on his Herbology NEWT," Harry said, with a proud smile though he hadn't even known Neville at the time. Both James and Sirius looked suitably impressed. "He's going into Potions and Plants Poisonings."
"Under Snivellus?" James demanded, his lips curling in disgust.
Harry actually laughed at the terrible nickname. "Yeah. You were right. He's an arse. Merlin, I hate him. I don't really work with him a lot, thank Merlin. But, Neville does. He was such a dick to him on the first day."
"Not surprising. Snape is the most unpleasant arse that I've ever met in my life. Can't understand how he's friends with Lily," Sirius muttered under his breath.
If either James or Sirius noticed Harry flinch at his mother's name, they were kind enough not to mention it. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Your sister mentioned you wrote her back," James said and Harry's lips twitched into a smile as he thought about his gossipy little sister. She wasn't really that little either but, still.
"Yeah, I did. I miss her," Harry said, softly.
James hummed. "You should come home for Christmas, then. You haven't been home for Christmas in...years, I think," James said, and he sounded sad about it. Sadder than Harry had ever thought he'd be about the matter.
"I...it's still only October. I'll think about it. I'll see what my housemates are doing," Harry allowed.
"That's all I ask," James murmured. "You ready to order?"
Even as he asked, he waved down the waitress. She jotted down their orders with a quill and dashed off. Harry rocked back and forth in his seat, unsure of where it was safe to look. He had never felt so incredibly nervous in front of his family before.
"How's working with Riddle?" Sirius asked.
Harry fought hard to keep his blush from overwhelming him.
"Uh...er...he's fine. Arrogant. Obnoxious. Insistent," Harry muttered, growing more and more irritated as he thought about Tom Riddle. He looked up, sheepish when he saw how amused his dad and godfather were. "But, I don't actually train with him that often. I'm McGonagall's trainee."
"Minerva! Merlin, Minerva trained Snape and Lily too, didn't she?" Sirius asked, ignoring Harry's flinch again. This time Harry didn't think he was being kind. He just didn't seem to notice. "Do they tell stories about the two of them? I wonder."
"We don't really talk about Mum at work," Harry said, his voice cold.
Sirius' eyes widened and he swallowed, finally noticing.
"Your mum has been writing you, you know. Are you going to respond to her?" James asked, quietly.
And there it was.
"Look. I don't fucking know, okay?" Harry snarled, looking up at the two of them. "I have nothing to say to her."
There was a long moment between the three of them, interrupted by the sudden appearance of their food. Harry dug into his bangers and mash with gusto, demolishing it with a fork and knife. He went about it methodically, like a procedure with his wand and athame. He pretended that he couldn't feel their eyes on him.
"She wants to know you. About you. Your life," James said, hesitantly.
He hadn't touched his sandwich. Harry slammed his knife and fork down.
"Don't pretend you…don't pretend that I don't have a reason. To not want to talk to her," Harry said. He didn't bother checking the time. "I have to go. I have work."
DIAGNOSIS
Harry wrestled himself into his hunter green robes and practically threw himself at McGonagall's feet the moment he arrived at the hospital.
"Potter," she drawled.
"Reporting for duty, Healer McGonagall!" Harry said, saluting her. McGonagall rolled her eyes but didn't say anything particularly scathing so he took it as a win. "What am I doing today? Brewing? Pharmacy? Paperwork?"
"None of the above. You've been requested," McGonagall sighed.
Harry's heart dropped into his belly. "By...not by Riddle? Please, not by Riddle," Harry whispered to himself and McGonagall's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I thought you'd enjoy working with Healer Riddle, seeing as your introduction to the program was an internal procedure with him. Is there a problem?" McGonagall asked, taking a step closer. Harry shivered under her gaze; it was like she could stare into his soul, and his soul was not something for public consumption.
"Um. No. I just...don't feel like doing Spell Damage work today," Harry squeaked.
McGonagall stared at him and rolled her eyes. Harry knew his lie was weak, but he wasn't going to say shit to his teacher.
"Good. Because you've been called up to the Mind Healing Ward. Report to the Head Healer. He has work for you," McGonagall said before leaving, a clear dismissal.
Harry stared at her, slack-jawed.
Albus Dumbledore had requested to work with him.
The Head Healer of St. Mungo's was legendary in his field. Mind Healing was one of the most mysterious parts of the Healing arts. It was notoriously difficult, requiring a balanced mind, and control that few possessed. One had to be well-versed in both Occlumency and Legilimency, and there was always a certain quality that one had to possess.
Of course, that meant Harry was not meant for that field in the least.
He was a human traffic accident.
"A-are you sure?" Harry called after her.
McGonagall paused, looking over her shoulder. "Potter, I have patients to check up on. Yes, I'm sure," she barked.
Harry let out a deep breath that he hadn't even known he was holding, in order to center himself. He turned back to the lifts and then froze when he saw a familiar pair of shoulders. Riddle was talking to someone—a girl that was nearly two feet shorter with long blonde hair that fell to her waist. Her lime green robes were quite shocking in comparison to the neon purple barrettes in her hair.
As if sensing him, Riddle began to turn away from his conversation. Harry turned on his heel immediately and knew that he would much rather take the stairs all the way up to the Mind Healing floor than wait in another lift with Riddle.
By the time he reached the top, Harry was so out of breath, his entire face was red. He wheezed, his chest rebelling against him. Harry doubled over, attempting to catch his breath, before he collected himself, standing up straight. He smoothed his hands over his robes, and strode forward through the hall and turned into the Head Healer's office.
"Healer Dumbledore, you requested me?" Harry asked.
Albus Dumbledore's office was as eccentric and extravagant as the man himself. There were shelves upon shelves, some crooked, piled upon with little silver instruments and knick-knacks. Books were piled up on the floor, overflowing from the stuffed bookshelves. It smelled like lemon drops and freshly brewed tea, and the whole of it made it hard for Harry not to smile.
"Ah, come in, my boy," Dumbledore said, cheerfully. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
Harry faltered at the man's question, slowly nodding as he went to sit in the chair before the desk. It was overstuffed and soft, and Harry practically sank into it.
"Sure. But, I thought we were doing Mind Healing today?" Harry said as a question. He leaned forward in his seat. "Splash of milk, no sugar."
Dumbledore's smile widened and he waved his wand. Harry's eyebrows rose as the teapot and milk did Dumbledore's bidding, falling into order. The teacup scuttled towards Harry before settling. Harry took a sip and grinned in satisfaction.
"Today will be an observation and education day," Dumbledore said. "I'm afraid that I can't allow you to engage in any Healing with any of the patients until I evaluate your Mind magical skills."
Harry swallowed.
"I guess it's best to tell you now that I'm not very good at Occlumency or Legilimency. My dad tried to teach me Occlumency, but I'm too...volatile," Harry admitted and Dumbledore's smile widened as if he were charmed by the idea.
"As all youth are. But, this is a skill as any other skill that one cultivates during their Healing education. We will raise you up above inadequacy, this I promise. Tell me, my boy, how are you enjoying the program?" Dumbledore asked.
And Harry wondered why the man was asking. He didn't seem to be going out of his way to ask the other trainees. So, that meant it definitely had something to do with Lily. His mood began to sour.
"Does it matter?" Harry asked, as a knee-jerk reaction. He cringed. "I'm sorry. I'm...I'm unnaturally defensive."
Dumbledore didn't seem upset. "That's quite understandable with your mother being who she is."
Harry paused.
"Excuse me?" he asked.
"I'm sure you wonder why I ask this of you specifically. And I would be remiss not to acknowledge that I ask this of you because you are Lily's son. But, I do not think you quite understand my reasoning entirely. Your mother is a prominent figure in this hospital and the Healing world at large. I ask about your participation in the program because I would hate it if her shadow made it difficult for the Healers here to see you," Dumbledore said, immediately.
Harry swallowed, fighting the smile that was attempting to work its way across his face. He took a sip of his tea. As he figured out what he was going to say, he ended up gulping down his tea, scalding his tongue.
"It's...it's going good," Harry allowed. Dumbledore looked at him in such a way that it made Harry's lips curl into a wide grin. "It's better than good. It's amazing, sir. I...my first day, I assisted in an internal procedure. And I felt…"
"Healing is a magic beyond all others," Dumbledore allowed.
Harry found himself nodding eagerly.
"It really is," Harry said, softly.
Dumbledore hummed. "Good. Now that we've had this lovely conversation, I'm afraid the time for work begins, especially if we're to take part in the festivities," Dumbledore said, cheerfully.
Harry blinked. "What?"
Dumbledore didn't seem to have heard him, instead bustling around his office, grabbing seemingly random pieces of parchment, stacking them together. Harry blinked rapidly as he stared down at the bright yellow silk slippers peeking out from under the hem of the man's robes. Dumbledore was definitely mad.
"Come, young Harry. We shall do rounds," Dumbledore said, passing him the stack of parchments and striding towards the door. Harry stayed frozen in his seat for only another second before he hurried after the man, holding the parchment tight to his chest. "Be alert. Take notes. I'll be very clear about the treatment for each. You seemed quite aware of afflictions of the mind last time we spoke."
"I am. At least, as much as I can be. We learned about it, some, in school," Harry stammered.
Dumbledore glanced back, regarding him over his half-moon lenses. "Good. I'd advise you to brush up on your studies. I'd like to keep you on my service for another two weeks. We'll get your Occlumency to a passable level. It's a helpful tool for all wizards."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, following the man to the Janus Thickey Ward.
Harry had never considered Mind Healing and he still wasn't—not really. But, he was being taught by Albus Dumbledore.
"And after rounds, I'll need you down on the E&T floor, searching for possible Mind patients."
Harry's excitement fell. So, Dumbledore needed a grunt. Great.
DIAGNOSIS
Harry huffed, already exhausted, and barely halfway through his shift. He looked through the next patient file. This one looked promising. Dennis Aldermaston, age 24, and seemed to be suffering from a rather stubborn Confundus Charm.
Dennis Aldermaston was definitely confused about something as he wandered around, bumping into random beds and matrons. A young matron tried to wrestle him back into bed, but he seemed to be arguing with her, convinced that he was actually a famous Quidditch player.
Harry's lips quirked as the man snarled, "Do you know who I am?"
The matron threw up her hands, clearly exasperated. She took a step back, shaking her head.
"What do I even do with him? He's been at it for twenty minutes," she sighed, exhaustion rife through her face.
"Hi, Matron. I've got this. I'll calm him down. Distract him. I'm going to run a diagnostics spell, see what I can find out. Then, you hit him with a stasis charm and then we can transfer him upstairs. Healer Dumbledore was looking for some mind patients and it seems like I've found an interesting one," Harry said, observing his charts and paperwork while looking at the patient.
The Confundus Charm wasn't performing like a typical Confundus Charm. He seemed to be genuinely convinced that he was a Quidditch player.
"Sure," the matron sighed, pulling her wand.
"Hello, Mister Aldermaston. It's such a pleasure to meet you," Harry said, affecting an awe-inspired look. His voice swooped higher and the man turned on him, suddenly looking more dazed than before.
"Well, look at you," Aldermaston drawled. He shot a sour look at the matron. "At least someone knows who I am."
"Sure, Mister Aldermaston," the matron muttered.
Harry swallowed his snickers as he took a step forward. "Of course, I know who you are. I'm Healer Potter, and you're at St. Mungo's. It looks like you took a Bludger to the head, sir. If you'll just take a seat," Harry said as pleasantly as he could.
"I will do anything you want me to," Aldermaston drawled. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Aldermaston settled on the gurney and laid back on it, stretching his arms over his head. He squirmed, a frown furrowing his brow. "Can you adjust my pillow? I'm uncomfortable."
Harry's teeth clenched and he glanced back at the matron. The matron rolled her eyes.
"Sure, Mister Aldermaston," Harry said as pleasantly as he possible. He moved forward, leaning down to adjust the man's pillow when suddenly a hand was pressed against the back of his head and the patient was kissing him.
Harry grunted as he felt a slobbering tongue swipe at his teeth and he jerked back, stumbling. Aldermaston grinned up at him, winking.
The matron's mouth fell open. "What the—"
"Fuck this," Harry growled, pulling his wand. "Akinisía."
Aldermaston's eyes rolled into the back of his head as Harry put him into a rather forceful stasis.
"I'll...transport him upstairs," the matron decided, waving her wand and already the gurney was floating away.
Harry gagged, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and silently debated the merits of casting an Aguamenti straight into his mouth. Fucking people didn't know what fucking boundaries were. What an asshole.
And then, he felt him. Looming.
Harry groaned, turning around to face Riddle.
"You kiss patients now?" Riddle asked, his face warring between irritation and amusement
Harry flushed but, successfully, blew him off, rolling his eyes.
"What are you? Jealous?" Harry challenged, turning away from him and marking the patient down for evaluation by the Mind Healers. He was clearly hit by a Confundus Charm otherwise he wouldn't have done something like that.
Harry paused. Re-evaluated.
Well, some people might have done that. He didn't really know the man.
"I don't get jealous," Riddle protested.
Harry's lips twitched. The man sounded jealous.
"We had sex. Once."
"And we kissed in a lift," Riddle retorted.
Harry huffed, rolling his eyes as he pressed his parchment and quill tight to his chest as he regarded the man, his eyes narrowed. "It wasn't that good, you know," Harry muttered.
Liar.
"Then, let me prove that it can be. Get dinner with me. Or a drink. Get a drink with me, Harry," Riddle said, taking a step closer. Harry's breath caught in his throat as Riddle was suddenly towering over him, looking down at him with those mesmerizing burgundy eyes.
"I...no. You're my boss," Harry said, helplessly.
Riddle raised an eyebrow. "I have it on good authority that you like having someone bossy in your bed."
Harry swallowed and back around, pressing his parchments to his face in an attempt to hide the violent flush of blood to his cheeks. Riddle laughed softly, and even in his laughter sent a shudder of arousal down Harry's spine along with a healthy sense of outrage. Harry turned back around, his green eyes narrowed.
"You think you're charming," Harry snapped.
"Oh, sweetheart, I know I'm charming," Riddle retorted.
Harry swallowed. Sweetheart. Oh, he liked the sound of that. It was condescending and such an asshole thing to say, but Harry liked it.
Sweetheart.
"You're not, you know," Harry said as confidently as he could, forcing his embarrassment away. "You think you are but you're not. You think you're going to wear me down because you, what? Get off on the chase? You like to play games, Healer Riddle?"
Riddle raised an eyebrow, his smile slowly fading away. He took a step closer, looming over Harry. Harry was starting not to mind the man's looming.
"I don't play games, Harry Potter. And it's not the chase. I like you," Riddle said, softly, reaching up and letting his hand hover in the air. "You're beautiful, you're rude, and you're talented."
"Oh, I'm talented?" Harry asked.
Fuck, he was flirting back.
"Talent turns me on," Riddle drawled. "It turns you on too. I can tell."
"It does," Harry allowed. He took a step back, his eyes narrowing. "But, I'm still not going out with you."
Riddle let his hand drop, and his lips curled into a smirk. "You say that now."
He walked away as if their interaction hadn't ever happened. Harry bit his bottom lip, fighting away his smile.
He grinned anyway.
DIAGNOSIS
"Okay. How many people are on the list?" Hermione asked, looking over Ron's shoulder. Her eyes narrowed at the chicken scratch and she scoffed. "How can you do McGonagall's post-procedure paperwork with handwriting like this?"
"I do drafts. Duh," Ron said, sticking out his mashed potatoes covered tongue. Hermione made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat as she snatched the parchment and quill, and began to go over the list.
"Okay. You've invited half the hospital. Really, Ron? Really?" Hermione demanded.
Ron shrugged. "People kept coming up to me and asking. And it's not like Grimmauld Place is small. We've got that little back garden too," Ron pointed out. He reached out to take one of Hermione's chips, but she sent a quick Stinging Charm that made him cry out and wince.
Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to go through the list. Ron had invited almost every department with the exception of the Artifact Accidenters, though that no surprise. Ron had been forced to work with them multiple times already, and he'd said they were all freaks.
"We don't have enough alcohol for that many people," Neville said as he wandered over, peering over Hermione's shoulder. He went around the table and set down his food tray, staring at his two housemates. "We've only got three cases of Butterbeer in the house."
"Harry has a bottle of Firewhiskey," Ron supplied unhelpfully.
"Well…half a bottle of Firewhiskey," Hermione corrected. The three exchanged long meaningful looks. None of them wanted to say it, but they all understood.
Harry wasn't an alcoholic in the least, but he was a little fond of Firewhiskey.
"Okay. What if I circulate a bring your own alcohol policy?" Neville asked. He leaned forward, a curious look on his face. "The matrons can bring Gigglewater. Spell Damage brings Firewhiskey. Everyone else brings more Butterbeer and maybe some wizard's brew."
"Sounds like a plan. We can get that out word of mouth," Hermione decided.
Neville hesitated. "Does Harry know how big this is?"
"I mean...if you want to tell him," Ron said, unhelpfully gesturing to the approaching man.
Harry looked caught between giddiness and outrage. He fell into the seat next to Neville, letting his head fall on the man's shoulder. Neville's cheeks pinked up, but Harry didn't even seem to notice. He leaned forward over the table, grabbing half of Hermione's sandwich.
"What's up?" Hermione asked, curiously.
"Hey! How come he can eat half of your sandwich, but I can't have one chip?" Ron demanded.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Because I like him," Hermione said. She turned back to Harry, raising a single eyebrow.
"Okay, so I came to work late—"
"Oh, yeah, how was lunch with your godfather and dad?" Neville asked curiously.
Harry rolled his eyes. "They try. I promised I'd think about spending Christmas with them. Definitely besides the point. As I was saying, I came to work late, so I couldn't tell you all, but I worked with Albus Dumbledore today!"
Hermione gaped and Ron's mouth unhinged, showing off the bits of food in his mouth. Harry's nose wrinkled. Ron swallowed his food, quickly washing it down with pumpkin juice.
"You're joking! How was it? What did you do?" Ron asked.
"Not much, right? I mean...are you skilled at Legilimency or Occlumency? Mind magic is such delicate work. It takes years," Hermione murmured, her eyes bright with wonder at all of the possibilities. She brushed a bushy piece of hair down, patting it back into her bun.
"Well, really, I took notes. I'll be on his service for the next two weeks! He wants to teach me passable Occlumency. He's so cool. Definitely mad, but also very cool," Harry said with a grin.
"That can't be what's got you so happy though. Are you excited about the party?" Ron asked.
Harry rolled his eyes. "For a housewarming? Not really."
The three housemates exchanged nervous looks.
"Well, out with it, Harry," Hermione said, pushing her unfinished plate of chips towards Harry. She ignored Ron's longing look.
Harry bit his bottom lip. "Don't react—"
"What now, Harry?" Hermione demanded, her eyes suddenly blazing.
"I said don't react!" Harry whined.
"Don't react to what?" Neville asked curiously.
Hermione shook her head, only having eyes for Harry. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything. Just...just he's charming. So, so charming," Harry sighed, a faraway look entering his eyes. Neville looked away, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
"Are you going to share with the class?" Ron snapped, a little put out.
Hermione and Harry seemed to realize where they were.
"Uh...later, Hermione," Harry muttered. Hermione nodded once, though she still appeared unhappy. Ron and Neville pursed their lips, irritated. "Now, tell me about your days."
DIAGNOSIS
Hermione grumbled under her breath as she went through her notes again. She turned back to the potion and furrowed her brow as she gradually added the last ingredient: aconite. Hermione shielded her eyes with one hand, as she went to wave her wand. She prepared for the explosion and let out a gasp of relief when a faint blue smoke floated from the potion.
She let out a long sigh and shook her head.
"Tempus," she murmured.
It was only nine. Sure, she would be late to her own party, but she was reasonably sure that Ron and Neville could handle it. Hermione packed up her books and left the potion lab after casting a stasis charm over her potion. As she walked up the stairs, she went through all of her notes, double checking her work.
When she entered the Healer trainee room, she grinned.
"You waited for me?" Hermione asked, grinning at Harry.
Harry rolled his eyes, looking away. "No. I just...didn't want to leave yet," Harry grumbled.
Hermione snorted. "You're not as much of a curmudgeon as you pretend to be, Harry Potter. Now, tell me about what I'm not supposed to react to," she said as she stowed her books in her cupboard and began to unbutton her robes and shouldering them off, leaving her only in a pair of tight trousers and her bra.
She paused looking at herself in the mirror, pinching at the soft bit of flesh around her middle. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to her cupboard.
"He asked me on a date again. And he said it's not a game. Hermione, I...I would like to believe him," Harry said hesitantly.
Hermione turned on her friend immediately, her eyes blazing as she pulled her t-shirt over her head.
"No, Harry. He's charming, but you have to think big picture. This could ruin your career," Hermione said insistently. She paused, taking her hair out of the bun and shaking it out, letting it frizz out wildly around her head, the curls bouncing every which way. She glanced in the mirror again and nodded approvingly.
"I still have so much to prove," Harry murmured to himself. He shook himself, looking back over at Hermione, crossing his arms. "You look good for a housewarming party."
"So do you," Hermione retorted, gesturing to his too-tight jeans with tears and rips in the thighs and knees and the oversized sweater that he liked to wear to show off his collarbones.
"Should we grab snacks before we go home? Do you think Ron and Neville bought snacks?" he asked as they walked towards the Apparation spot together. Hermione's brow slowly furrowed.
"Harry...how much do you know about this party?" she asked.
"Trainees, right? Wait...you guys didn't invite Smith, did you? I hate that guy," Harry grumbled.
Hermione swallowed. "Har—"
But, he was gone with a crack. Hermione cursed under her breath and followed him. She Disapparated and winced as she felt like she was being compressed into a straw and then pushed back out again on the front step of Grimmauld Place.
The door was open and the loud, thumping music was pouring out onto the street.
Hermione ran up the steps and inside, shutting the door behind her. She swallowed as she stood at Harry's side, observing the monster that she had helped to create.
There were people everywhere. Up the stairs, in the hallways leading to the kitchen, to the two parlors and the living room. Everyone was talking over everyone else, barely hearing the music. There were two matrons giggling raucously as they drank their Gigglewater, and resisted being flirted with by a Spell Damage specialist that Hermione was sure wasn't a trainee.
"Hermione. Who are all of these people in my house?" Harry roared, but his voice was lost in the din of all the noise. He seemed to be shouting something more, probably curse, but Hermione had to strain to hear him. "You know what! Forget it! Where's the Firewhiskey?"
He's stormed away, his cheek red with fury.
Hermione swallowed and then decided that she would feel bad about it later. Better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission. It was something that she was learning quickly, especially if she wanted to stay ahead of the game at St. Mungo's.
"Hello, would you like a bottle of Butterbeer?"
Hermione blinked down at the sweet-looking young woman. She was quite short with long dirty blonde hair that flowed to her waist in waves. She possessed the largest set of eyes that Hermione had ever seen outside of a house elf, and she had a string of Butterbeer caps around her neck. She held out the bottle with a hopeful look on her face.
"Um. Sure. This is my house," Hermione said, taking the open bottle. She didn't drink it. "I'm Hermione Granger, Healer trainee. I haven't seen you in the Healer trainee room."
"That's because I'm not a trainee, silly," the girl laughed, taking a long sip of her beer. She gave a tiny belch but made no move to excuse herself. "I'm Luna Lovegood, Head of the Children's Ward! I specialize in Magical Bugs and Maladies."
Hermione's eyes widened and she took a long drag of her Butterbeer. "You look twelve," she blurted out and then flushed. "Wait, no. Sorry. I'll be on your service soon and I don't want you to hold that against me."
Luna Lovegood's smile widened broadly, to the point that Hermione shifted uncomfortably.
"That's alright," Luna said, dreamily. "I'm really not that much older than you. But, that's a story for another time. I should go find Albus."
Hermione blinked.
"Wait. Dumbledore is here?" Hermione demanded.
Luna nodded, eagerly. "And all the other Department Heads. We wouldn't miss out on a party!" Luna giggled and she was off, disappearing into the crowd.
Hermione shivered, thrown by the strangest encounter of her life. And then it hit her. Her bosses were at her house. At her party. They were seeing their entire staff rage like they were a bunch of schoolchildren or randy teenagers. Hermione swallowed when a couple slammed against the wall next to her, furiously snogging, attempting to strip one another right there in the open. Hermione slowly traded the girl's Gigglewater for her Butterbeer. The snogging couple didn't miss a beat.
Hermione was definitely going to need something stronger.
She pushed through the crowd, taking a sip of the terribly sweet liquid. Then she chugged it, pushing through towards the kitchen. She stumbled into the kitchen and set her nearly empty bottle down on the counter. There was a much smaller group in the kitchen, all talking rather loudly to each other.
She paused. "Wait. You aren't Healers," she accused, raising her finger.
The group looked up and glanced at her. They looked her over, judgmentally. One of them laughed, coolly.
"Yeah. It's because we're junior Aurors. Duh," she drawled before turning back to her little group.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. What the fuck.
She finished off her Gigglewater in one go, chugging it, and promptly let out a long peal of laughter. One of the junior Aurors looked up, interested. She barely noticed him coming her way as she laughed it all out, hiccuping at the end.
"You've got a really cute laugh," the man said.
Hermione jumped, her eyes wide. "Um. Me?" she asked.
The man's smile widened. "Yeah, you."
Hermione's lips curled into a grin and she looked him over. He was quite tall with a thicket of luscious blonde hair atop his head, perfectly coiffed. He had that smile; that 'I know I'm great smile'. Hermione dubbed it an 'uppity Auror smile' in her head. Though she'd only been at St. Mungo's for a month, she already knew how some Aurors could be up their arse about their job as if it were more important than hers.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she said with a grin, holding out her hand. "I live here."
The man took her hand and brought it to his lips. Hermione smothered a snort with her other hand.
"I'm Cormac McLaggen. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger."
DIAGNOSIS
Ron had not expected this. Not in the least.
He had thought that a few people would show up here and there, just coming through before proceeding to the pubs. After all, it was a Saturday night, but a lot of people would have a shift tomorrow. Except, it seemed like everyone that worked at the hospital was in his house, and then some. Everywhere he turned, Ron saw St. Mungo's employees, junior Aurors, and a host of Ministry interns that he had no idea about.
"Neville...this is fucked. This is so fucking fucked. Harry's going to bludgeon us with a Beaters bat," Ron hissed. He turned, searching for Neville and he scoffed when he saw the other man pressed into a corner by a rather insistent Hannah Abbott.
They weren't snogging just yet. Hannah was saying something excitedly to him and Neville just looked sort of overwhelmed, looking over Ron's head, helplessly. Ron saluted him and sighed, turning around and clutching his wizard's brew tighter to his chest. Someone should get some, he decided, if it wasn't going to be him.
Ron cursed under his breath as he began to patrol around the party, waving his wand to keep certain doors locked. It wouldn't do for Harry to get home to two people hooking up in his bed. That just wasn't on and Ron didn't really want to be evicted when he'd just finally moved out of his parents' house. He couldn't take any more of his mum's fussing.
Ron whipped around as a trio of girls scurried past, giggling and clutching a bottle of wizard's brew tight between the three of them. Ron pulled his wand.
"Accio bottle!" Ron snarled. The ale ripped itself right out of their hands landing clumsily in his free hand. He turned on the three girls. "Hey, how old are you three?"
"Seventeen," snapped the boldest of them. "I'm Romilda Vane."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "Where are you from?"
Romilda Vane faltered. "E-excuse me?"
"What department?" Ron challenged, taking a step closer to them. The other two girls fought to get behind Romilda, whispering to each other frantically.
"U-um...Artifact Accidents?" Romilda said, slowly.
Ron scoffed. "Ha! You're Hogwarts students, aren't you? We didn't invite any Accidenters because they're off. So, tell me...should I give the Headmaster a firecall or will you three get out of my house of your own free will?" Ron demanded.
Romilda's eyes narrowed. "At least give me back my brew," Romilda demanded.
Ron scoffed. "Yeah, right. I'm not giving some underage girl any alcohol. Now, get out before I have a few junior Aurors arrest you for underage Apparating or however you got here. You know where the door is," Ron challenged. His eyes narrowed.
"You heard the man."
Ron's eyes widened and he glanced at the woman that had joined his side. She was a pretty woman with short dark hair and a round face. Her arms were crossed under her rather ample breasts. Ron slowly looked her up and down. Well, damn.
"Yeah, yeah, we're going," Romilda muttered, shooting Ron an evil look. She stuck out her tongue and gave him the finger.
Ron returned it wholeheartedly and took a swig of her brew just to be an arsehole.
The woman that had joined him laughed, wildly. Ron turned to her, a little dazed like he'd been struck over the head.
"Hi. I'm Ron Weasley," Ron said with a grin.
The woman looked up at him with sparkling eyes. "I'm Emmeline Vance. Creature-Induced Injuries. Nice going there. Real responsible."
"Thanks. I try to set a good example for our future," Ron said with a grin.
"Good on you. I'm going to get more Gigglewater. You should come find me later," she said. Emmeline winked at him, disappearing down the hallway before Ron could even get another word out.
Ron opened and closed his mouth like a fish, dumbstruck. He watched the way her hips swayed as she moved. What a woman.
"Weasley!"
Ron paled at the familiar voice. Slowly, he turned to face his bosses.
Dumbledore grinned at him, waving happily, standing between McGonagall and Snape. Snape's lips curled into a sneer as he finished his glass of what appeared to be Muggle bourbon.
"Um...yes...sir?" Ron squeaked.
"Do you have any more bourbon? And who are these hooligans in this house?" Snape demanded, his eyes narrowed.
"I don't really—"
"This party is excellent, Mister Weasley!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. As if on cue, someone screamed and there was the sound of shattering glass followed by a large roar of laughter. "Really quite entertaining. I don't think I've had this much fun in decades."
"I'm glad to hear that, Healer Dumbledore. I just...I'm going to…" Ron turned on his heel, ready to flee. He froze when he was met with a much shorter—though far fiercer—man, with a Firewhiskey bottle clenched tight in his fist. "Harry!"
"Who the fuck are all these people in my house, Ron?" Harry snarled.
"What language," McGonagall tutted.
Harry's eyes widened when he realized who the three people behind Ron were. He pinched the bridge of his nose and threw his hand up.
"You know what...I'm not dealing with this. I'm just not. Ron, you clear this out. I want them all gone in the next twenty minute or so help me, Merlin, I will kill you," Harry threatened. He glanced at his three bosses again, opened his mouth and then shut it when he couldn't think of anything to say.
Instead, he took another swig of his Firewhiskey and stormed back down the stairs.
"Hey!"
"Bugger off!" Harry roared to the man he had just pushed as he stormed down the steps and turned down one of the more deserted hallways. He pushed through the backdoor into the freezing back garden.
Harry didn't hate parties. He actually rather enjoyed it. It gave him an excuse to drink and dance like a loon. He did not like having a party sprung on him in his own home. He did not like having an enormous party in his house after a long day at work, with mostly people he didn't know. He also did not want to party with people that he worked for. Suddenly, Harry was reminded of Dumbledore's reference to 'festivities'.
Wow. Fuck his housemates.
Harry sighed, closing his eyes as the music traveled outside and he took another sip of his Firewhiskey. Slowly, he moved his hips to the sound of the music, gyrating to the heavy bass. He let out a quiet laugh as he dipped low, rolling his hips in time. He punctuated with another swing from his bottle.
"Damn, Harry. If I knew you could move like that...well, I would've put you in a more challenging position the last time."
Harry's eyes flashed open. He stared at the man leaning against the fence, an empty bottle of Firewhiskey hanging from his hand. Riddle looked unfairly attractive in a pair of black trousers that clung to his long, muscular legs, and a button-down that showed off his long neck and just the top of his chest. Harry wanted to lick him.
"How are you here? Why?" Harry whined, throwing his hand in the air. He paused in his outrage to take a swig of his Firewhiskey.
"It was all over the hospital," Riddle drawled, snatching the bottle from Harry's hand. He collapsed on the little garden bench, leaning back in his seat as he took a long pull and then passed it back to the younger man. "Thanks for not inviting me by the way. That felt good."
"They said it was a housewarming party! I thought it was just gonna be, like, other trainees, but I saw Dumbledore and McGonagall and Snape. If my godfather found out, he'd have an aneurysm," Harry whined, throwing his head back against the back of the chair. Slowly, he slumped over, his head falling against Riddle's shoulder.
Riddle lifted his hand, pressing his fingers into Harry's hair, slowly massaging his scalp. Harry let out a little moan.
"Well...you know how to fix that," Riddle allowed. He scoffed as they looked back at raging party. They could see the mass of people through the windows, could hear the crashing of pot and plates and the screaming laughter. "I can't believe you turned me down for this. This and a bottle of Firewhiskey."
Harry slowly set his Firewhiskey to the side, rolling his head up to look at Riddle. Riddle was looking down at him with those dark burgundy eyes. Harry let out a soft whimper when Riddle's fingers tightened in his hair, tugging lightly.
"I wish I didn't," Harry whispered, swallowing around the sudden knot in his throat.
"Hmm, you wish you didn't?" Riddle rasped, lowering his face to Harry's until their lips were only centimeters apart.
"You said no games...Tom," Harry murmured, raising a hand to cup Riddle's jaw. "I don't like games."
"Good."
And then, Riddle's hand fell to Harry's thigh and he pulled until Harry was straddling his lap. Harry slung one arm over Riddle's shoulder and moaned as the man's hands roamed up the back of thighs to grab at his arse, yanking him down until their groins were pressed together. They never broke eye contact as Harry slowly began to rock in Riddle's lap to the sound of the thumping bass.
Harry pressed his forehead to Riddle's and he let out a shuddering moan as their cocks pressed against one another. He let his head fall against Riddle's shoulder and raked his fingers down Riddle's back, grinding down hard. Riddle's hands tightened on his arse, slowly guiding him back and forth.
"Fuck, you're so sexy. Merlin…" Riddle whispered. He reached up and yanked Harry's head back by his hair, licking a line up from Harry's exposed collarbone to his jaw. He leaned forward, biting hard at Harry's bottom lip and pulled, watching it redden.
His cock twitched against Harry's and Harry mewled again.
"I want you to fuck me. Need you to fuck me against a wall," Harry gasped. Riddle groaned as he nipped at the column of Harry's neck, sucking a mark into the soft pale skin. "Press me into a mattress and fuck me so hard I can't walk. Don't you want me?"
"Fuck, I want you. You want to show me how good you can be?" Riddle hissed as purple blossomed in the shape of his mouth. Harry keened softly as Riddle pressed a thumb to the fresh hickey. "I want to make you scream."
"How crude."
The two froze. Harry's face turned ashen at the voice. Slowly, he slid to the side and turned to look at Minerva McGonagall.
Her lips were pressed tight, pale in her fury. She glared at Riddle with so much rage that Harry was terrified that she was going to pull her wand on him immediately. But, just as fast as her rage had appeared, it was gone again, replaced with severe disapproval with a healthy dose of apathy.
"Minerva," Riddle drawled like he wasn't currently tenting his trousers.
"H-Healer McGonagall, it wasn't...I was…" Harry stammered, looking down at his cock. He had been so hard that it had hurt just moments ago. Now, it was like all of the blood had rushed to his heart, making it beat double-time.
"Don't mind me. It's not like there aren't a hundred people currently in your home, Potter, waiting to eavesdrop. If you'll excuse me," McGonagall hissed.
She Disapparated on the spot and Harry let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding.
"Harry."
"What?" Harry whispered, still staring at the spot McGonagall had been in.
"I still want to fuck you. Let me help you forget," Riddle purred, licking the shell of his ear. Harry shivered under his ministrations, but still, he didn't look away.
"Forget what?"
"Everything."
Harry keened and slowly he nodded. "Help me forget."