15th November 1984



An overwhelming urge for a cigarette and a tumbler of whiskey were driving Miranda Carter as she rushed up several flights of stairs to reach the front door to her 7th floor flat. After a 12 hour shift, it was a feat just to reach the door without wanting to pass out. Time on the Creature Injuries floor was exhausting in itself, but to pair it with the long hours, life and work became a painful marathon. Habitually, she would rush in, not paying a mind to her surroundings, grab a cup a soup and the whisky bottle and collapse for the night on the sofa.

Tonight, Andy froze at her doorway with her wand out. The wards had been removed and her hand took the door handle just as she did every other night. Tonight, her hand was wet and sticky. With an increased heart rate and a sudden elevation in adrenaline, the young witch lifted her hand to see it covered in half dried blood.

Any normal person would have turned and run, calling upon the Ministry’s law enforcement squad. But Andy Carter? She was hardly normal or wise and she raised her wand and pushed the door open, stepping into the dark flat alone and unaided.

“The aurors are on their way.” Her voice broke the silence in the dark flat yet betrayed her lack of confidence, the strong Devonshire accent accentuated with her fear.

“But,” uttered a voice almost inaudibly, “I want you.” There was a pause, and the slight nasal quality to the home counties accent wavered slightly, “and actually one’s already here.”

Thin fingers tightened their grip on the holly wand as her eyes strained in the darkness with the unfamiliar voice. She’d even taken a step back, bumping into the front door until the owner of the voice became clear. Where in Merlin’s name had the blood come from?
“Shit, Lawrence!” The witch gasped, relief flooding her senses, “Do you have a death wish creeping in my flat?”

There was a titter of laughter from deeper in the flat. He didn’t feel threatened by Andy, she was a known quality when it came to hexes.
“No, but I could do with a healer right now,” he called to her, the humour absent from his voice.

He reached for his wand in his left hand, and lit the room around him dimly before flopping his arm back down on the sofa. He’d not even taken off his leather jacket or boots, but at least he’d remembered to keep his feet on the floor to save him from the wrath of the owner. His right hand was bound in a bloody bandage, and his skin had a cold, grey pallor.

Her wand now lowered with the threat no longer evident, Miranda found her breathing to become steady and calm. The fact that he had broken in, they would need to discuss. That was far too comfortable; it was far too presumptive. But her dark analytical gaze confirmed that he actually needed her help as she glanced over the bloody limb and poor attempt at field healing.

“You could do with a hospital, idiot.” The newly qualified healer pointed out as she passed the small dining table that was covered in books and clutter. Before doing anything, Andy pulled off her denim jacket and pulled the sleeves of her baggy pink jumper up to her elbows. She was not bloodying her clothes for Lawrence Musgrave. She kneeled before him on the floor and reached out to take his hand. “Who bandaged this? An inebriated goblin?”

“Brown.” Lawrence admitted, having been more distracted by the trainee’s chest than paying much attention to the wound to his right hand. “I got bit by some rat, t’was fine…” He uttered hazily, feverish. “I just needed a nap.” He looked at her properly and smiled. “You look nice by the way,” even though she’d just rolled in from work. He tried to touch her cheek with his injured hand.

Quick reflexes grabbed the wrist of his bloody right hand tightly and pulled it back down. Blood loss and possible infection was clearly affecting the auror. What on earth had been wrong with taking himself to St Mungo’s?

“We were doing a raid, jumped out and went for me. S’alright, you’re here now.” He gave her a smile.
“A rat?” eyebrows rose, she didn’t believe such for a second.

A flick of her wand and a mutter of “Accio healer’s bag” later and a small leather bag barged its way out of a kitchen cupboard behind the sofa and danced over to her, landing not so delicately on the floor.

“For future reference,” Andy muttered, as she went to work, removing the blood stained bandage that had been poorly wrapped around his hand, “I work at St Mungo’s. You could have been seen there far sooner rather than risking infection.” Dark eyes scanned up to meet his in the dim light. “Don’t break into my flat again.”

“It’s hardly breaking in with your wards.” Lawrence chided, “and I was... fine when I got here,” he protested, though he didn’t feel it now. He wrinkled his nose at her work and made a face. “Was going to surprise you… bought you flowers.” They were still wrapped in their paper but shoved in some water amongst the clutter on the dining table. He had no idea what her favourite flowers were, nor did he know anything about flowers at their age. Maybe he should have brought something strong and alcoholic instead.

“My own private healer,” he smirked suggestively, “look forward to repaying you later...”

Despite herself, Miranda felt a reluctant smile twist her lips as her wand delicately cleared away any dried and fresh blood covering his hand and the wound. The flowers were unnecessary and, like letting himself into the flat, presumptive. But there was something quite deep inside her that wanted to care for for someone, to fix their wounds. Lawrence Musgrave wasn’t her first choice, but he was here now, he would do now.

“Oh really?” The witch looked up to the auror, trying to remain cool but the small smile betrayed her as she opened a tin of balm and dipped some clean cloth into it. A strong smell of herbs filled the air between them and she carefully dabbed the balm over the newly cleaned bitemark. “You certainly surprised me.”

Her touch was gentle. Lawrence was not watching his hand, he was watching her face. She was smiling - she liked flowers then? He’d remember it if it paid off later tonight.
“Feeling better already,” he told her, no doubt she was doing a good job. He inclined on the sofa towards her, closing the gap between them.

“Sorry for letting myself in,” he apologised in a low voice, remembering that being an arsehole didn’t work out unless Miranda was in a mischievous mood. Despite this, there was no stopping the smirk on his lips. “So is there anything I can do… to thank you?”

Dark eyes snapped up from his hand to meet his gaze. He was closer, his expression suggestive. She shouldn't have worn the baggy jumper. She should have brushed her hair. She should have had some chewing gum on her way home.
“I can think of a few things.”

It only took a few more minutes for his hand to be thoroughly cleaned, treated, sealed and bandaged once more. Miranda was complimented regularly for the speed with which she worked. “Don’t rush to remove the bandages.” She instructed, closing her bag and looking back up at him. She pushed her glasses up onto her head and rested both hands on his knees. “Unless you want a cool scar.”

“Cool scar?!” Lawrence mimicked, as if that would be something an auror would definitely want. However his hand was now the last thing on his mind, especially as his healing hero had her hands resting on his knees. “My saviour,” he smiled, genuinely feeling more himself now as her remedies worked their literal magic. He lifted her glasses from the crown of her head and set them aside. They’d only get in the way. He reached for her hands, fingertips finding a gentle grasp, encouraging her to join him on the sofa.

“Come here and demand your reward,” the young auror suggested, his eyes not leaving her face. It didn’t matter how tired he was after twelve hours of tearing around the country in pursuit, the thought of unwinding with a witch restored his energy. Miranda ‘Andy’ Carter had been rather effective for that desire in quiet. He was becoming quite familiar in how to unwind the once uptight, competitive girl he’d gone to school with. His right hand in a bandage would not hold him back...

There’d been a time Miranda would have refused and made sure it was on her own terms. Years ago, he’d insisted that she didn’t take risks and such words had clearly had an effect. Tonight, she didn’t refuse and made no comment when he took her glasses. Instead, she let him lead her, moving up onto the sofa but with a knee on either side of him, as she straddled his lap and leaned down, pressing her lips against his. Her hands found his hair, fingers snaking through the curly mop to pull it back, kissing him hungrily.
She smelled faintly of astringent herbs, salves and the hospital, but he’d grown used to it for the times they’d come together in recent weeks. He knew she liked to be kissed a little firmly, like it was all a bit illicit. Not telling anyone about it seemed to be her kink, and if it meant it kept happening, Lawrence was only too happy to keep quiet, even if they really weren’t sometimes.

“That’s more like it,” Lawrence muttered in a low, breathy tone, smiling suggestively. “This is exactly what we need.” He stretched his good hand out to grasp her backside and brought her down closer, his bandaged hand tracing up the back of her neck in a less agile manner than normal.

“I’m going to enjoy repaying you tonight…” he rumbled between kisses, hazel eyes unable to leave her. His seventh year old self would never believe this could happen after their first kisses in Slughorn’s potions lab before the exams, but here he was, heatedly kissing Andy Carter with his hands on her skin, and not for the first time either.


End