What the hell?...Stupid alarm clock!!!!
I’m exhausted. Last night we got some drunken fools from some Wizarding pub, or the other, all beat up. Apparently, there was a pretty big fight. I am so tired from magically bandaging people up. Usually, I would do things the Muggle way. Not last night. I just looked them over, with my eyes, and did what I needed to with my wand. There were about 25 men and women. They should be fine, with the exception of one blond haired man. We couldn’t find any identification on him. Right now he’s the “Blond Guy”. Everyone else had family members to claim them. There’s no one yet for Blond Guy. He was the worst out of everybody. He is the bloodiest, most bruised, and the sexiest. Last night while changing his bandages, I saw his naked chest. It was so smooth and beautifully white. I would die to have that man’s arms around me. I know I shouldn’t think like that but what can I do. It’s not like Ron does anything to make me want him that much! Well, I’d better get out of bed and get ready for work.
Draco
Ouch. That hurt. My head… (2 hours later)
“I think he’s coming ‘round a bit,”
“Yeah. I think he is,”
Groggily, I opened my eyes. There was a young, dark haired Healer in the room, sponging my face magically.
“Are you all right? You were covered in blood when you came in last night,”
What?
“Err… Blond Guy?...Umm… Hello?”
“Where the hell am I?”
I didn’t mean it rudely and thank dang god that the Healer didn’t take it harshly, although her colleague looked like he was going to cry. The Healer just smiled and lifted the sponge off my head.
“You, young man,” she said as if she was loads older that me, although, she was about my age, “Are at St. Mungo’s,”
“Oh,” was all I could muster.
She smiled again.
“Err…what ever your name is-“ I said cut off by the sexy Healer.
“Hermione Granger. I’m a Healer as you can tell,”
“Right. Umm… What happened to me?”
“We aren’t quite sure. They brought you in from a bar all beat up. Some sort of fight went on,”
Memories started to come back to me.
I walked into the pub, just like every night. I sat down at the bar in the back and ask for an extra large fire whisky. I put some coins on the table. Who cares if I over paid. The bar tender says I UNDER paid. I say I don’t care. He gets mad and demands the money. I try to get up and leave, but he pulls me down, pinning me to the table, demanding his money. I yell in his face that I gave all I had. He yells back something along the lines of me having six fire whiskeys and paying for about two. I told him to shrug off and let me go. He still didn’t let go of me until I kneed him in his balls. Then he let go, groaning and moaning. Some other guy who had been watching grabbed me, demanding money. I punched him in the face. Then I took out my wand. I shot some nasty curses out before the bartender took out his own wand and tried to kill me. The Killing Curse backfired. I didn’t even feel bad in my drunken state. I shot many more curses before it turned into extreme turmoil. There were girls screaming hell out, guys shooting curses out of there wands, and then me, doing the same. Then the ministry came in. That’s when I conveniently blacked out.
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