Meeting a Muggle

Chapter 1

"Oh come on Dez, it's only the end of shift blues, you know? You're going to make a pretty good surgeon when this hell is over. Trust us to be rostered on during the worst riots or terrorist attacks or whatever they are in history. This last couple of days puts me in mind of the Brixton Riots when I was a kid," Mustapha Bottomly half laughed but there was little amusement in the noise. They had been on duty for nearly forty eight hours and both of them were exhausted as they headed toward the resident's quarters, where they hoped to get a little sleep.

Desiree Sarah Hanson sighed deeply as she pushed short blonde hair off her forehead. She had just spent an hour sewing up a slash carved through a young girl's side and breast by a vengeful boyfriend, who thought the top she had been wearing made her look cheap. It was ridiculous! The world had gone mad! Everywhere people were doing impossibly evil things as casually and as thoughtlessly as.... It was as if evil was no longer a moral issue, it was a way of life.

"That's quite an indictment on the human race, my girl." Mustapha sighed but didn't contradict her, even though Dez hadn't realised she had spoken the thought aloud. "Can't say I disagree either, considering...." He sighed again as he scrubbed his face too. He was in the unenviable position of having a Black Muslim mother and a white Anglican father. His parents had had to move to the back woods of East Anglia to escape the constant conflict of their families. He had come to London to Guys Hospital to do his training but he would be going back to his sleepy little village to practice as soon as he qualified.

"Nostradamus was right; in the one hundred and thirteenth Pope the world will go mad."

"I know, then the eagle and the bear will join together and that will be followed by the Golden Age. If you believe those predictions then I have this really cool...." He broke off as there was a loud bang, and a couple of men appeared in the hallway only yards from them.

The stench of blood, sweat, smoke and roast pork was disgusting as the redhead collapsed unconscious on the ground, his smaller blond companion sinking to his knees under the weight. "Give me a hand, you bloody Muggles, instead of standing there like goldfish," the blond yelled in very precise tones as he tried to stop his friend's head cracking on the tiles.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" Mustapha swore as they both dashed forward. The red head in the red party outfit was bleeding badly, his right leg significantly shorter in the shin than it would naturally be. "Oh God, it looks like he stepped on a landmine!"

"Near enough," the blond muttered, pushing blood and shredded flesh out of his face as he gasped for breath. "Damn it Weasley, why couldn't you have been normal sized!" He half laughed, half wept as he tried to get out from under his much bigger companion.

Mustapha grabbed his arm and found the blond was shaking in every fibre, as if he had grasped a power line. Dez went on her knees beside the redhead, applying pressure to the large muscles just below his knee. The flesh below his knee was a mass of bone splinters, shredded flesh and cloth, as well as what looked like dirt and stone fragments. Doing a quick visual inventory of the man, she realised his right hand was neatly sliced across: the little and ring finger completely missing, the tip of his thumb hanging on by a shred of skin. There was a piece of wood embedded in his palm, a long splinter that must have come from a moulding, as it had some sort of carving on one part. It came free easily when she pulled it and she stuck it into her pocket as she sent Mustapha off to get the trauma team.

Even as Desiree's mind catalogued the wounds, her hands had been busy straightening, easing, controlling. She hated surgery especially trauma surgery but she was good at it. One of her professors wanted her to go in as a full surgical resident but she was more leaning toward genetic research, which was much less difficult to sleep with. She knew she would be seeing this red headed man again in her nightmares for quite a few nights to come, and the prospect was not pleasant!

As she eased the splinter out of his hand, the left hand suddenly tangled in her loose lab coat and she was flung back against the wall. There was little sense in the wide blue eyes that darted wildly around the corridor. The thrashing, struggling man managed to flick blood all over, as he tried to get up. His blond friend flung himself forward, trying to smother his struggles, grabbing his ruined wrist, and holding him tightly.

"Harry! Hermione!" The names were bellowed in terror and desperation as the blond was flung off into a wall again, but he came back like a persistent terrier, to try and smother the much larger man.

"For Merlin's sake, Weasley, get a grip! They are alive! Stop it now! Don't just stand there, you idiot Muggle, stupefy him!"

"Malfoy? Where the hell are we? What have you done? Where's the battle?"

"I saved your worthless life. The battle is almost over, we won, I think. I--I believe Hermione is okay, I believe that!" Anguish twisted the perfect features for a second then the Malfoy mask was back in place. "I apparated you out to St Mungo's, but I think I missed. Lie still, you are a mess, and you are getting gore all over me!"

"Bloody Malfoy!"

"Har, har, excuse me if I don't laugh." The young man sounded nearer tears than laughter.

Dez shook her head but did not stop her work as she listened to the two of them bicker and moan, as old friends and comrades will. She didn't know their names, and didn't stop to ask, as one of the arteries in Weasley's leg suddenly broke open, shooting a fountain of blood up to the ceiling. Both men gasped as they were sprayed, the red head cursing in pain, the blond pulling out a stick and aiming it at the wound. He muttered some Latin and the bleeding stopped instantly, making Dez stare at him in amazement. "That's a good trick," she commented.

"Honestly Malfoy, magic before Muggles, you are in trouble, aren't you?" Weasley actually laughed before another wave of agony made him slump.

"It's all that's keeping your arse in the land of the living, you idiot weasel." Malfoy sniffled and rubbed at his face again. The very pale skin was taking on a deep red mottling, as if some deep blunt force trauma was slowly coming to the surface. "He's right though; magic in front of Muggles is a no-no, but if you don't tell, I won't."

"Is magic going to fix this mess?" Dez asked wishing Mustapha would get back with the trauma team.

"No, his leg is gone, he's going to be doing a Mad Eye Moody, but I am more concerned with the loss of his fingers. His wand blew up and the hex sheered them completely off. I would have grabbed them, but bloody Pansy of all people, hit me with a bludgeon spell and nearly knocked me out. Good job she always fancied me or it would have taken my head off." Malfoy knew he was rambling but for some reason there were now two blond girls and two red haired weasels in the passage. "Oh well, as long as he's still alive at the end of it, my darling wife will not go ballistic. He's one of her best friend, after all."

"You're married?"

"Humm, yes, an amazing thing, I can tell you, took me by surprise too, as did Lysander, my son. He is just the most perfect thing you have ever seen."

"Took us all by surprise," Weasley muttered, drifting back into consciousness. "You, the Death Eater in training, and our Hermione, the perfect Light witch, engaged to be married? Impossible! We should have turned you permanently into a ferret, Ferret."

"You, and which army?"

"Me and Harry," Weasley replied as if by rote then groaned miserably. "Oh Gods above, did Harry get that psycho? Did he do it? Is he still alive?"

"Easy Weasel, Harry was fine, last I saw of him, and Snape was standing guard. My... my father ... Lucius was down and...."

"Head of Family then?"

"Head of Family," Malfoy confirmed with a grim smile. "How is he doing, girl?"

"Fine, except for being on death's doorstep," Desiree snapped, using a pair of forceps from her pocket to clamp another vein that began to pump sluggishly. "Keep him occupied, you're doing fine."

"Why, thank you." The blond half smiled and swayed alarmingly as he attempted a bow.

There was a commotion as Mustapha came barrelling down the corridor with four of the trauma team on his heels. The blond boy tried to raise his stick again, but his hand was shaking almost as much as his friend's. Desiree yelped as one of the team pulled her out of the way then half a dozen other people arrived with the pop of champagne corks.

There was a confused milling of people, the blond crying out as if in relief then a burst of Latin. Someone cursed as they pushed her aside and waved yet another stick over her patient's leg. The blond said something about a hex and a bludger then there was a light, a pretty white light. Dez squinted her eyes as she was used to getting flashes from the surgery light, her being so much taller than the rest of the team, but it did not good, she was a little dazzled.