[June 27th]

Yesterday had proved far too exciting for Graham, which meant the day after bore excruciating pain.  His back was giving him even more trouble than usual and he was certain he may have sprained his ankle; not to mention the burn on the side of his face from being far too close to the apothecary when it chose to explore.  Come to think of it, he wasn't certain he hadn't been bitten by the runespoor when he was trying to rescue the children.  That decided it, he was off to St. Mungo's for certain.

Nevermind that St. Mungo's was also the workplace of one Ms. Quincy St. James, the delicious divorcee that Graham had dreamed of since his Hogwarts days.  She had been a terrible beauty back at school, but now she had mellowed into a decadent, intelligent, fine woman.  He would never admit it to anyone, barely even himself, but one might even say he had a slight crush on the woman.  She was a source of admiration, although Graham was more than aware of her many flaws.  They had been able to chat a couple of times, quite civil to his pleasant surprise, at least until that arse of a Pratt stepped in.  He didn't deserve her, and Graham wanted to make sure she was quite aware of that fact.

Despite his injuries, Graham found a set of clean robes and dressed as finely as he could.  He brushed his hair, and after a moment's reflection, he even shaved.  An hour later, he emerged from the bathroom clean shaven, with even a hint of aftershave as well.  But not too much, he wouldn't want her to think he was some fop.  But what if that was still the kind of man she liked?

Quickly Graham realized where his thoughts were going and put a halt to his foolishness.  What was he doing getting worked up over a woman? A woman who cared nothing for him and he nothing for her!  His chin tingled, and Graham rubbed the bare flesh, almost apologizing for its exposure.  If he was all dolled up, he may as well go anyway.  It was probably her day off, which was well as it meant he wouldn't make a fool of himself. 

Graham paced the room for a moment, fidgeting as he debated whether to go or not to go.  He had sufficient poultices with him, but what if it was something more serious?  And it wasn't just to see Quincy, there were legitimate reasons, very legitimate reasons!   He pulled at his hair, rubbed his chin to the point of waking up his mother with his exercises.  That was the stimulus needed to break through his agitation.  This was a calm and rational matter that would be decided in just that way.  He sat on the floor, crossed his legs, and breathed.  After five calming breaths, he considered the matter anew.  Anytime one came into contact with a dangerous beast, and he had even held Thursby's finger, god only knew what diseases he may have picked up from that.  Graham opened one eye and looked at the vial on his bedchamber.  The one good thing that came from yesterday was that he had the chance to scoop some egg-goo off of Robards' body.  Any Runespoor fluid was top dollar, and coming into contact with it was just as dangerous.  To visit St. Mungo's would be quite prudent and well-advised.

Legs uncrossed, he sat for a minute to let the blood return before he apparated.  It was merely a coincidence that he had also shaved before going to the hospital.  Once he felt capable of movement, Graham bid his mother farewell and strode out the door.

*CRACK*

St. Mungo's was quite abuzz with activity, more than likely from yesterday's events as well.  As soon as he approached the receptionist, she took one look at him and asked, "Runespoor?" 

"Yes, you see I handled some of----"

"First floor.  Up the stairs and to the right, the mediwitches there will triage."

She quickly moved on to the gentleman behind Graham who was oozing pus and blood from his head.  Graham quickly stepped aside, touching his own forehead to ensure his was not doing the same.  Glad he was still intact, he took the suggested path and reached the first floor, Creature-Induced Injuries.  It seemed he was definitely not the only one there.  There was quite a line, and Graham slumped a little lower realizing that even if he did see Quincy, they probably would not be able to talk for long.  Not that the hospital was ever the place for Ms. Lundy's social hour. 

It was only a few minutes before a mediwitch roped him off from the herd.  "I need you to fill out these forms.  The top one goes to your healer, and you'll return the bottom form to the desk on your way out."  She nudged him towards an open examining room and motioned towards a chair.  "She'll be with you shortly.  Here's a quill." 

Graham sat down rather dazed, a bit fuddled by the buzz of the hospital, and the exorbitant amounts of pus within one building.  He thought bubotubers were awful; Flora had nothing on the disgusting innards of humanity.  The one bright spot was the mention of a she.  Graham tried not to look excited, the last thing he wanted was to have that hangdog puppy look everyone made fun of him for back at Hogwarts.  He was an adult now, the least he could do was look like one.  To fight off the anticipation, Graham turned to the forms, filling in his height, weight, date of last examinations, etc.  He didn't even see her come in until he turned to page two.

It had been a long, long day. One of those days that never seem to end, even though they've only just started. Quincy had been at work for approximately two hours and thirty seven minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. As soon as she was finished helping one patient, and was settling down to do some of the much-needed paperwork she was due to hand in, another patient was waiting. 'Patient' probably wasnt' the best fo words, as these people were far from patient!

For the last two weeks, she had been on creature-induced injuries. She saw everything, from dragon burns to pixie bites. No two cases were ever the same, and it was a very interesting department to be in. However, she was almost definitely sure that this wasn't the department for her. However, healer-in-training protocols stated that she had to spend two months on every department before she was able to specialise. On some departments, it took less than a day to realise that it wasn't the right department for you, and it was just unfortunate that another month and thirty-or-so days had to be spent there.

Quincy bit the end of her quill, trying desperately to rack her brains and get the paperwork done. Her mug of coffee was stationed ceremoniously at her side in her tiny box-office. She was the kind of person who, if she couldn't concentrate, got a coffee. This particular coffee, however, had been brought in by Jason, who had experienced first hand the busy department that morning, and knew she needed to fill lots of forms in. This was his own personal way of trying to help take a load off, without actually taking a load off.

Since she and Eddie had split the previous year, Jason had been very careful not to take sides. Of course, Quincy knew that he was first and foremost Eddie's best friend, but they had all been friends for years, and she and Jason had always been quite close. Jason was attentive to her in a way that even Edward had never been, and it was litle gestures like this that made Quincy really value his friendship. She smiled as she held the mug up to her lips and smelled the aroma of the liquid inside.

Quincy hadn't told Jason abotu the fact that she and Edward had slept together again just a few days ago, after more than a year of barely saying hello as they exchanged children. She wasn't sure whether Eddie had mentioned anything to him either. Jason hadn't let on to her that he knew anything, but then what did she expect him to say? 'So, I heard you and Ed got it awn the other night. Nice one.' She rolled her eyes at herself. Of course, he would try and protect the pair and keep it from being gossip.

A loud voice in the room made Quincy jump and spill coffee on the floor. "Damn!" She muttered as she took out her wand. "Scourgify." The liquid disappeared with a 'thwop' sound. She sighed as she put the mug back down on the desk for the third time in ten minutes. Having to reheat her coffee was starting to become a drag. How ridiculous, she was only a healer-in-training, and already she was resenting the things that took her from the comfort of her little box and her mug of coffee. But that call out was from the reception, saying that a patient was waiting to be seen to by a healer.

"That's me." She said to herself as she stood up, brushed the remnants of biscuit crumbs off her trousers and made her way out into the corridor. The examination room she had been asked to go to was only a short distance from her own office. The door to the room was ajar, and she pushed it open further with as bright a smile as she could muster. "Good morning. And what can I do for you today?" She pushed the door closed behind her, making sure she heard the click - protecting patient confidentiality was a big thing in here, and she didn't want to jeopardise it for anyone. She didn't recognise the back of the man's head as he was scribbling away at the paper.

"Good morning. And what can I do for you today?"

Graham's head snapped up at the sound of her voice.  It was one he had heard many times in his dreams, although usually not just saying good morning.  He would recognize it anywhere, and Graham almost hated himself for the instant recognition.  Hoping she would take it as a reaction to sound rather than her sound (and oh what other sounds he had imagined her to make), Graham attempted to recompose himself.  He looked up once more, attempting to smooth his frightened deer expression into a more welcoming smile of familiarity. 

"Quincy?" He started, as if he had never in his life thought he might run into her at St. Mungo's.  This was already becoming a disaster in Graham's eyes.  He should never have come.  "You look well," he added, hoping it wasn't too creepy to say.  Hogwarts was a key teacher in what was and was not appropriate to say to young women.  'You smell heavenly, like cinnamon bread fresh from the oven,' would get one beat up in the hallway or dismissed as a creeper.  It was best to stick with casual conversation, although even that had never scored with the ladies.  Not counting Thursby who wasn't a lady by any means. 

But they weren't in Hog's Head, or the Leaky Cauldron, or even The Sword and Chant.  They were in a hospital.  "I"m sure you've heard about what happened in Diagon yesterday," he spoke, just now realizing how difficult prolonged speech was.  He had hardly spoken two words since he woke up that morning.  He hoped it didn't make him sound like an idiot.  "I was...too close to Jigger's when it exploded."  Aside from the scratches and bruises on his arms and leg, his only worry was how badly it had burned the side of his cheek.  He tucked his long hair behind his ear, briefly showing a series of inflamed blisters on the heel of his hand in the motion.  The wound was exposed, quite a nasty burn.  Suddenly he felt quite silly for going all the way to the hospital when he probably could have taken care of it at home.

The head of hair snapped to attention as she spoke, so much so that it even startled herself. She must have shocked the poor man, having crept up so quietly and then spoken so jovially - as one had to do in such a place as this, to keep morale high and bad feelings low.

"Quincy?"

Her pupils dilated as recognition dawned on her. She let her mouth curl up into a more natural smile, than the plastic-work smile she had on before. "Graham Bombay!" She exclaimed, folding her arms over her chest and leaning more on one leg to give her other leg a small chance of recuperation. His claim that she looked well caused her smile to falter, when she noticed the large burn on the side of his face. "Well I would say the same about you, but you don't look too good at all." She stated. Some people may have at this point in time made note of the fact that she was stating the obvious, being in a hospital and all. However, this particular burn on Graham's face caused concern to the healer-in-training.

She unfolded her arms and moved closer to the man, pulling a seat away from the small desk in the corner and sitting on the edge of it. Her legs were akimbo, allowing her to move closer to Graham as she examined his face better.

"I'm sure you've heard about what happened in Diagon yesterday," Quincy shook her head, pulling some latex gloves on in the process. "No...but whatever you were up to, I would recommend not doing it again." She said as she gently placed her hands either side of his face. She tilted it up towards the ceiling and slightly to one side as she examined the burn closely. "That is a nasty burn." She stated sighing.

"I was...too close to Jigger's when it exploded."

"Honestly, Graham, you should be more careful." She chastised sotfly as she removed her hands from the side of his face and pulled the gloves from her fingers, dropping them into the bin without taking her eyes off his face. She frowned slightly. "By the looks of things, there are some nasty chemicals in there that could potentially cause infections. If it's left for too long, they could have damaging effects on the blood vessels in your face." She smiled reassuringly. "It's a good job you came in to see me."

As Quincy's reaction held neither disgust, fear, uneasiness or spontaneous retching, Graham was quite excited.  The years had mellowed old school day alliances, at least for the more open-minded and intelligent of his schoolmates; Quincy's ex-husband notably not among those Graham had in mind.  Unfortunately the thrill of her smile was diminished by the reciprocal comment.  He didn't look well, was his hair too greasy? He had washed it not two days ago! And he had even shaved this morning! That must have been the problem, he was certain there must be a faint tan line along his jaw.  Despite the burn, Graham retained the ability for a tomato blush to rise upon his cheeks. 

As the woman came closer, Graham's mind raced to the possibilities of odor; and if not odor, perhaps he put too much rosemary in his aftershave? The possibilities were endless, and Graham could feel a faint set of goosebumps rising along his arms.  "Oh, erm," he paused, realizing how her ignorance could put him in a different light.  "Some idiot smuggled in an adult Runespoor--all three heads intact.  A couple of my students were involved..." he paused, frozen as her engloved hands made contact with his skin.  Rapture.  "Someone had to save them," he finished quickly, incredibly distracted by her concern for his wound.

"Honestly, Graham, you should be more careful.  By the looks of things, there are some nasty chemicals in there that could potentially cause infections. If it's left for too long, they could have damaging effects on the blood vessels in your face.  It's a good job you came in to see me."

He blanched at the possibility of disfigurement, as if he wasn't horrendous enough already.  While he imagined Quincy could love him despite his hairiness, he was certain it wouldn't extend past facial discoloring and scarring.  She deserved better.  He was glad she justified his visit though.  The last thing he needed was the shame and bill of an unnecessary visit. 

"I do appreciate your seeing me on such short notice," he added feeling the need to justify his own expertise, "My own potions stocks are low else I would have taken care of it myself.  Thus the trip to Jiggers," he trailed off, realizing that he was rambling.  He was sure she hated ramblers.  Witty and concise was probably her more accustomed style of conversation, and Graham felt he was failing miserably.  Among his students he was an unquestionable resource, but for some reason Quincy turned him back into a first year, tripping over his own robes.  "When will your own children be joining us?" he asked, trying to reestablish his authority.  He had made something of himself, for Merlin's sake, and he had plenty to offer.  Right?

Quincy squirted some antibacterial hand wash from a bottle and rubed it vigorously between her hands, making sure it got into every crevice - being a healer meant that hygiene was a big factor, and one had to be unending in the cleaning of everything. Especially hands. And Quincy was very particular about hand and fingernail cleanliness. Dirty fingernails was one of her biggest pet hates. Fingernails said a lot about a person.

She let her eyes flicker to Graham's hands. The corner of her mouth twitched a little as she spotted some dirt. But he was a herbology professor, so it made sense that there would be some dirt in there that would be difficult to remove. She let her eyes glance over the rest of him. Clean. she noted to herself. Therefore the dirt under his fingernails was purely professional, and made no indication of his usual hygiene status.

She listened intently as he explained what had happened the other night. Her facial expression reflecting what he said; eyebrows raising at the appropriate shocking part about the runespoor having three intact heads, nodding with understanding at the fact he had to save his students. "Very noble." She smiled.

"I do appreciate your seeing me on such short notice,"

She stood up with her hands resting on her hips and smiled. "It's my job, Graham. Don't suffer in silence for so long next time." She chastised him, wagging her finger in mock disappointment.

He enquired as to when her children would be joining Hogwarts. Smiling with pride that only a mother has, she counted in her head. "Well, Noah starts next year. He's grown up so fast. Natasha is only six, so she has a few years yet. And Charlie? Well, he's still just a baby." She gave a small 'Hm', almost like a chuckle as she thought of her loving children, and how sad she'd be when none of them were living at home.

Snapping out of her reverie, she turned back to Graham. "Anyway, promise me that if something like this ever happens again - and Merlin forbid it does - that you'll come and see me straight away. Even if I'm not at work." She paused. "In fact..."

She turned to the desk and grabbed a small scrap of parchment and a quill with ink. She scribbled for a minute on the paper, blew on it to ensure it was dry, folded it inhalf and held it out to Graham. "My address. Just in case. Don't ever hesitate to contact me."

The longer Graham stayed in the somewhat isolated room with Quincy, the more erotic the simplest of actions became.  It was unnatural, and reminded  him all too much of his long, involuntary chastity.  For not the first time in his life, he really wished Hogwarts would pay him enough that he could find a willing woman.  Instead, he was forced to watch Quincy vigorously clean her hands with far different thoughts in mind.  This was not going well.

The slightest twitch of her mouth marred the moment, and Graham was sent back into an adolescent panic.  Had he done or said something wrong?  Or was it something she had seen? The blush grew deeper as Graham tried to calm himself back down.  She had said he was noble.  That was a very good thing, right? Nobility belonged to the upper classes, to her realm of society.  Her smile seemed to reach down inside him and stroke his soul.  It was beautiful.  He couldn't help smiling back, a distorted version of her grace reflected. 

"It's my job, Graham. Don't suffer in silence for so long next time."

The image of her as the chastising angel was one familiar from their Hogwarts days.  As she talked about her children, Graham nodded and smiled.  If he were to be honest with himself, her children, with the Pratt genes and all, would probably be little nightmares.  He hated first years with a passion, and was sure that her oldest would be no exception.   But at that moment, nothing would have pleased him more than having one more link to her than as the future professor of her children.  "Who would ever have thought I'd be teaching your kids one day?" he joked, trying to make friendly conversation. 

"Anyway, promise me that if something like this ever happens again - and Merlin forbid it does - that you'll come and see me straight away. Even if I'm not at work.  In fact..."

Graham held his breath for one sweet moment, not daring to think that this might be leading where he thought it was leading.

"My address. Just in case. Don't ever hesitate to contact me.

His hand trembled slightly as he took the paper from her.  Looking at the dried, ink, the address and the free permission and the acceptance, it all too much at once.  He swallowed hard before daring to speak.  "Really?" he asked cautiously, hating himself for the ridiculous question yet needing to hear her confirmation all the same.  For the first time in months, a small light of hope entered Graham's eyes.  Maybe his time of repentance had come.  He had spent years making up for his betrayals, and now salvation was at hand. 

As he joked about teaching her children she couldn't help but grin. "More to the point," she started, "who would have thought you would be teaching at all?" She shook her head in bewilderment as she leaned more on one leg and folded her arms across her chest. "We're well and truly grown up, aren't we?"

He looked completely flabbergasted as he took the parchment from her. Such humility, a trait that her ex-husband completely lacked. She felt her eyebrows pinch together with annoyance as she thought of her ex, but quickly masked it with a smile of reassurance.  "Yes, really. Don't be shy in using it either. I'll be rather disappointed if I don't hear from you." She shuffled her bottom onto the edge of the bed in the cubicle and crossed her right ankle over her left, leaning forward slightly with her hands either side gripped onto the bed covers. "I don't take rejection very well."

She paused slightly. "Maybe we could...go for a drink sometime? I'd love to hear your teaching plans for my son next year." She got on well with Graham, and much as though Eddie didn't like him, her ex had no bearing over what she did in her personal time. He would just have to deal with it. Maybe she'd introducee Graham to Noah.

"More to the point, who would have thought you would be teaching at all?"
 
Graham's smile briefly faltered at her remark.  Did she not think he was intelligent enough to teach? Because that was not true, at all.  He could probably swim circles backward around her, and he certainly would have taken care of the burn himself if he hadn't used it as an excuse to see her.
 
"We're well and truly grown up, aren't we?"
 
As she finished her comment, Graham calmed himself down.  Nothing was implied but what he imagined, and that was unfair to ruin the picturesque moment.  He was always ruining things for himself, but Quincy was one thing that Graham would not give up.  He deserved this! Playful and witty, that was they key.

"Yes, really. Don't be shy in using it either. I'll be rather disappointed if I don't hear from you.  I don't take rejection very well."

The moment's internal argument had passed, and this was quite something else altogether.  Graham's eyes widened at Quincy's sudden proximity to himself, as well as the pose that eagerly lent itself to some very grown-up thoughts.  He suddenly grew uncomfortable, particularly for being unable to take advantage of such a pose in a public venue.  This was why she was queen both then and now.  It was delicious, even more so to be the target of her gaze.  Unfortunately this was not a dream, and rather than being cool, calm or collected, Graham was rendered speechless.  Should the entire world's salvation depend on him uttering one intelligible syllable, it would be lost forever. 

"Maybe we could...go for a drink sometime? I'd love to hear your teaching plans for my son next year."

The question in her voice sent Graham panicking that the window was about to close on his future happiness, forever.  He closed his mouth, opened, willing the words out until at least the smallest, "Yes," crackled from his vocal chords.  He cleared his throat briefly, summoning his old school day armor that protected him from such humiliations.  Where was it when he needed it most? 

"Yes," he continued, in his more normal though slightly gruffer voice, "That would be lovely."  He ignored the comment about her son completely, assuming it to be a false excuse to secure her wedded innocence.  He was fine with that.  To his regret, she wouldn't be the first married woman who had stepped out with Graham. While he had promised himself that the first would be his last, he would be a fool to pass up this chance.  Besides, he was already  spending the next decade of his life teaching to make up for past sins.  What could it hurt to add one more to the pile? Especially when it could be the key to his redemption.

Once the tryst was set, Graham felt a heavy, awkward silence fill the air. He had reached his goal, now what?  "Erm, well, thank you for your time, Quincy," he finished, standing up from their somewhat compromising position.  "It was lovely to see you again.  Until next time," he finished, nodding deeply before he scurried out of the room.  It wasn't until he was out into Diagon Alley that he realized he had just secured the address and personal invitation for drinks from the stone fox of his Hogwarts Days.  It seemed that Adult Graham had succeeded in being far cooler than his childhood self.  Standing up a little straighter, with perhaps his chest out a bit, Graham felt like the king of the world.  He nodded to a fellow male passerby and thought to himself, I am so much better than you.  Yeah.