Date: Tuesday, 25 March
Time: 7:00 p.m.
Place: Werewolf Clinic then Malfoy Manor
Characters Involved: Severus Snape, Ginevra Weasley, Draco Malfoy, possibly Narcissa Malfoy if Alpha wants
Rating: Not more than PG-ish
(
'Learning to dislike children at an early age saves a lot of expense and aggravation later in life.' ~Robert Byrne )
Ginevra was a Healer and had probably seen more naked bodies of all variety of ages, genders and physiques (not to mention other species!). That did not make the present situation any less awkward for Severus. For a brief moment he felt heartily ashamed of himself for all but insisting on Ginevra's involvement, knowing how much Draco disliked her and would probably make her already difficult job downright miserable.
The moment passed quickly enough. Ginevra Weasley was the best there was for treating this sort of injury - much of that from working side by side with him, learning as they went along, always trying to research newer and better ways to address the various lycanthropic complaints ( ... )
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But her and Draco weren't friends, and she figured if she spoke more like a person and less like a trained healer, he would remember that they weren't friends and would chafe to have her help him.
She glanced back at Severus, surprised he would even offer to leave them alone. She gave him a faint smile. "As long as everything's properly labeled I think I'll be fine on my own."
But she knew his questions were more for Draco's benefit, so she fell silent and let Draco answer.
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Then he talked about leaving? No, he'd just gotten there. No. And leaving him with Weasley? Alone?
"You are going to leave me alone? With her? Severus..." he whined. As a child, the whine had gotten him anything he'd wanted. As an adult, it had helped him still. Though a quick search of Severus' face told him all he needed to know. Or perhaps it had just been the pause it gave him.
Weasley was the best there was. Hell. Bloody fucking hell. He trusted her. Damnit, Severus, why can't you trust someone worthy? Why can't you trust someone who doesn't hate me? Who I don't hate?He rolled his eyes, making it appear, he hoped, that the whine was him being dramatic and only playing. "I'll be perfectly fine with her. Not like I can hurt her or compromise her such as I am, now can I, Severus?" His eyes were positively dancing with harassment ( ... )
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All of which meant his patience was stretched far thinner than a man with his explosive temperament ought to ever permit. He was grinding his teeth so fiercely his jaw throbbed with the ache of it.
"I am not leaving you, idiot boy!" he snapped. Tact was gone as was his willingness to mollycoddle the boy's sensibilities.
"I am trying to be courteous and spare you whatever indignity might be involved in tending your leg. Last I saw, the claw marks raked right over your skinny arse ( ... )
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She moved from Draco's bed towards Severus. "Right, that's enough. Both of you. There will be no whinging from the patient, and no shouting from the healers." She looked at Severus with a sharper gaze than she would normally dare to level at him. "Go. I'm sure there's questions you can ask Mrs. Malfoy. We will be fine here." She leveled a glower back at Draco, as sharp-eyed as Poppy Pomfrey herself. "Won't we?"
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It was a very good thing he let Lily Evans convince him he'd be a wretched Healer decades ago. "Imagine the whinging, Sev - you'd hex them as fast as cure them. You'd best do something where you don't have to have very much direct contact with patients."Ginevra Weasley did not closely resemble Lily Evans, though there was nothing deficient in her appearance. Her hair was bright like flame rather than dark like fresh bricks in the sunset and her eyes brown instead of shocking green. Still, there was a similarity in keen intellect and sharp wit which echoed the deceased woman. He could not have felt more ashamed of himself at this moment if Lily, herself, stood there admonishing him ( ... )
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Today he was too tired and too worried to be able to make the effort to try and read ulteriour motives into her offer.
"You do not need to send any home with me, but I will take a healthy measure now," he said wearily. He did not take the offered chaise - it was impossible for him to let his guard down so completely in front of almost anyone, and surely not here in this house. Instead he took a chair near the fire which had often been his repose.
"No offence, Narcissa," he said, knowing she might easily take offence at his blatant refusal to accept her graciousness. "If I allow myself to sit over-long, I am likely to fall asleep. I would rather be at home before that happens. This is sufficiently comfortable ( ... )
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