InsaneJournal

Prompt: Ice Cube/Terry Connors & Augustus Rookwood
Requested by: daboss

request one here
semi inspired by this fic by Ary ♥



Terry was curled up against the corners where two walls met each other. She tried not to look at the mangled mess that was her leg, red and bloody and--was that bone? Her stomach turned. Breathing in small, careful gasps, she pressed her cheek against the cold stone of the wall.

There'd been an attack, on the school. She hadn't known what, or how, but she bet those purists bastards had a hand in it. Either way, it had rocked the school to its foundations, and the very stones of the castle had seemed to lash out at the students inside. She'd been walking down a staircase and had fallen when the castle shook. The pain had been almost explosive, the way it had consumed her and burnt her nerves.

Kneeling next to her, with a grim expression on his face, was Auror Rookwood. "Are you a healer?" she asked, eying him with scrutiny. "I don't know if you're really qualified to do something that a healer should do."

He gave her a look, a look that said You're REALLY going to do this right now? and she almost, almost felt a little bad for doubting his abilities. But she was right!, she thought to herself. This was her leg! If he botched it up she might not walk properly for the rest of her life! "Just don't botch it up," she snapped, but this time the fear was apparent in her voice, strained with pain.

It was silent, for a few long moments, as he called in supplies--a splint to hold it in place while he healed it, something to wrap it to keep it from getting infected after the fact, and a bucket of ice--to numb her? This was a very muggle operation, here, she noted with vague unrest.

"There are too many people hurt." His voice cut the silence, slightly hoarse from yelling and lack of sleep. "We only have two official healers here. The Floo systems are still cut off. And all aurors have wartime healer training." There was a pause, where a twinge of guilt battled with the worry in her heart. Then, in the same low voice, he asked, "Can you toss over an ice cube?"

She glanced at the bucket next to her. "You can't--" she started asking, but stopped. Her fingers closed around an ice cube and she tossed it over.

Jerking his head up, he caught the ice cube with his mouth. Like a fucking dog. Grinning, he bared his teeth to show it off before crunching the cube in his mouth. Her face twisted into a look of incredulity. "Really?" she said, voice almost hysterical in its panic. "I have a broken leg and you're going to play ga--AUGH!"

Her sentence had been broken off by the pain of him jerking her leg back into place. "Auuugghhhhh!" she ground out through gritted teeth, face crumpled in pain and clutching at her thigh.

"It was better you were distracted when I set it, I promise," he said evenly, from around a mouth of ice. She looked up at him through tear-blurred vision. "Throw me another ice cube?" he asked, voice calm and almost lighthearted.

"You...fuckin'..." She started, but she found a smile tugging at her lips. "...bastard," she finished, before letting out a wry huff of a laugh and tossing a cube over.

He caught it, again. "You're ballsy for a kid, you know," he said, with a mock-disapproving look. With the cube in his mouth, it sounded more like "Yrrr baasssyy frrrr a kiii y'ohhh." She laughed, just a little. He grinned back, a crooked grin that softened his eyes.

"All done," he said, finishing the wrap around it. "Don't put pressure on it for a while, though. We've secured the perimeter, there's no one inside the castle, so you'll be safe."

She looked at her leg--other than the bandaging that had been stained by the blood before he'd cleaned it up, it looked as if it hadn't been broken at all, just wounded in the flesh and bandaged up. "Thanks," she said, nonchalantly, and he just grinned at her, standing halfway up before scooping her up into his arms.

"What the hell?" she asked, but he just kept walking. When they reached the Common Room around the corner, he easily answered the riddle and deposited her on a couch gingerly. "Don't move--you'll hurt your leg again," he said sternly, before giving her a wink and exiting.

She stared at the portrait hole, then back at her leg. Okay. So maybe he wasn't that bad, this Augustus Rookwood guy.