A/N: prompt from tumblr! also we did a follow up to kindle over on itsblissfuloblivion if anyone wants it!
Houdini himself, Harry muses, would have had trouble extricating himself from the trap that is monthly department budget meetings.
Throughout the hellacious process of becoming a board certified medical doctor, Harry had been warned about many things, including but not limited to burn out, getting a god complex, trusting his instincts, keeping up to date with new advancements, the list is pretty endless.
But no one sufficiently explained the disgusting level of boredom that could set in when entering hour three of budgetary allotments.
It's pretty difficult to get free, even though he's long since got what he wanted, and his interest in the welfare of the hospital and its patients is certainly real. But he's also surpassed his usefulness. Harry's pull begins and ends with his department and he definitely used up all of his best bargaining chips for his own selfish needs. If selfish needs is the correct term for getting funding for new tech in the children's wing.
Regardless, he can't help Neville except by sharing commiserating glances and Ginny's finally home (according to her increasingly imploring and misspelled texts) and Harry just really wants to leave.
When no one's looking, he sends the pre agreed upon emoji (which Ginny refers to as the 'dead inside clown') and settles his phone back down onto the table as quietly as possible.
A few minutes pass and he begins to think Ginny's abandoned him to the terror of MgGonagall's stare and Moody's endless supply of grisly ER stories, but his phone vibrates once, then again, and continues with the steadiness that indicates an incoming phone call.
He stands and gestures to his phone, moving toward the far corner and earning a suspicious glare from Neville as he answers. "Hello?"
"Well hello there, Dr. Potter."
"What's up, I'm in a budget meeting."
There's a pause and he hears the unmistakable sound of a zipper - oh god. She's probably wearing that sports bra that ... "What are you wearing in that budget meeting, Dr. Potter?"
Harry clears his throat. "I uh - is it urgent?"
"Mhm, it's very urgent. I'm a visual person and if you're not going to come here and help me out then the least you can do is give me a little mobile assistance."
His tie is really too tight. Desperately, he tugs at the knot and loosens the top two buttons on his shirt. "Can't wait?"
Ginny's answer is practically a purr. "I'm not a patient woman."
A flush definitely rises on Harry's cheeks and Neville's smirking so he really needs to expedite this conversation.
"Well if your mum really doesn't feel alright."
"Please don't bring my mum into this - I'm currently soaking in a rose scented bathtub."
Harry's mouth is very dry. "...Sure. Yes. Let's. I'll meet you there."
"If you don't hurry I'll be forced to slip under the freshly laundered silk sheets all by myself."
Grasping his forehead with one hand, Harry takes one steadying breath, hangs up, and turns to McGonagall, "I, uh. Sorry to interrupt but there's a problem at home."
McGonagall lets the stack of papers fanned out between her hands rest on the shined tabletop and narrows her eyes at Harry. "Yes, you're released."
Not wanting to push his luck, Harry quickly gathers his things as chatter resumes (dropping more than a few folders and files in his shaky haste) and makes his move toward the door. Home free.
Until McGonagall sniffs and pauses, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Tell Ginerva we said hello."
Moody snorts and Harry manages to stammer out some sort of agreement to do so and spills out into the empty hallway. "Weasley, you are a damn menace."