18 July 1884 - Gringotts

Gus was pretty certain every healer that had ever had the misfortune of treating him would all agree that he was an awful patient. Something about never listening to their orders or doing everything humanly possible to get out of there as quickly as possible so he could get back to work.

Hell, the only reason Gus was sitting on the edge of a spindly bench that creaked with every shift of his weight was because he was told he wouldn’t get another assignment until a healer cleared him for it. He grit his teeth and tapped his feet impatiently against the ground because it felt like he’d spent more time waiting here, in some random hallway in Gringotts to await the healer than he had trapped inside the tomb – if he had to pick which one to be stuck in, Gus had to go with the latter.

Gus hooked a finger under the collar of his shirt for the umpteenth time, stretching it out like it was going to invite the stifling air around him to help cool off his body. Ever since he’d been released from the tomb, which had only been a day or two ago at most by some of his fellow curse breakers, Gus couldn't seem to cool down. His throat was bone dry. His palms itchy, pits sweaty. It felt like the tomb’s heat had sunk into his bones and refused to leave, no matter how many cooling charms he cast.

Still, he’d rather live with it than waste another minute here. The healer was taking his time, although Gus wasn’t sure if he was here already, checking out other curse breakers who needed to be cleared or if he was still on his way. He quickly tapped his feet at the same time, before he let out a loud sigh in hopes that someone might come ask him why he was making so much noise. Naturally, no one appeared.

He scowled at the floor, his finger still hooked inside the cotton shirt. Gus wasn’t a fan of sitting still, especially when he could already be out there breaking inside another tomb.

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Philomena Sprout // Derek McKinnon

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Derek had about marked out his trek from Hogsmeade to Gringotts by now, having been called on multiple different caseloads when the St. Mungo’s Branch was overflowing. And especially now with the Laughing Plague rampant, the medi-healer units were stretched thin as ever. Derek himself had been fortunate enough to escape the Plague’s clutches, but he worried it was only a matter of time. The echoes of his sibling’s laughter played on a loop inside his head, causing sleepless nights and dark circles to stamp themselves under his eyes. Nevertheless, work was work, and he had to provide for his family. Adam, Eliza and Isabeau were all out which left him, Edith and Jack to work in shifts.

It was a long year that the healer wished was over already.

Derek was still yawning as he approached the large doors of the bank in Diagon Alley, wondering who his patient was. He greeted the goblin standing at the entrance with what little Gobbledegook he knew before being led towards his patients.

As soon as he spied who the first one was, he couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter. The shock of copper-red hair was enough to let him know how the next few minutes would go. “Well, well, well,” He greeted as he made his way over to Lissington. “What’ve you gotten yourself into this time then, Grumpy Goose?”

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Just hearing McKinnon’s voice made Gus’s scowl deepen, and he was glad it was directed at the floor because he was not in the mood to deal with the other right now. The redhead lifted his eyes with the slowness and skepticism of a man who had absolutely not had enough tea to deal with this level of chipper sarcasm. Out of everyone St. Mungo’s could have sent…

“I’m fine.” Gus quickly shot back as he unhooked his fingers from his shirt, letting them rest against the bench. It only took a moment for him to drum them against the wood, because he was already eager to jump up to leave, although he needed McKinnon, so he had to play nice. “Really. Probably a hit dehydrated because the tomb was torrid and I was stuck inside for a couple days.” Gus waved his hand like it was perfectly ordinary , but then he tugged at his collar sharply and fanned the neckline of his shirt with two fingers.

He leaned back slightly, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck like this was what he had meant to do the entire time. Sweat was starting to bead there, but he ignored it. Gus then tried to offer McKinnon a bright smile like it was proof that everything was fine and dandy. “I just need you to sign off on that parchment so I can get going. We’re headed to the jungle.”

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The moment that Lissington raised his head, Derek let out another laugh. He couldn’t help it - even if Derek had to walk through the rest of the day with animal dung stuck to his behind, this moment would have made it all worth it.

“If you were fine, you wouldn’t be here and neither would I now, would we?” Derek countered gleefully, letting out a sigh as he conjured a stool in which to sit across from Lissington as he rummaged through his healer’s kit. It didn’t surprise him to see the younger man at Gringotts, much less to hear the fact that he’d been stuck inside a bloody tomb for the past few days. Derek himself gave a visible shiver paired with a grimace that told Gus exactly what he thought of the idea of being stuck inside a cursed tomb.

“You cursebreakers and your thirst for danger,” He admonished, tsking as he waved his wand to cast a simple diagnostic spell over his patient. The chart above them glowed a warm amber. Dehydrated indeed. Derek eyed the parchment before tracking the beads of perspiration he saw slowly forming on Gus’ brow and the back of his neck.

“Not so fast there, Lissington.” Merlin, if Gus was a kid he’d already be halfway off his seat and Derek would be seizing the back of his shirt to hold him still. Thankfully they weren’t quite there. Yet. “You’re extremely dehydrated and -” He cast another, more complex web of diagnostic spells before grimacing again. “- there’s a problem with your body temperature, it looks like.” Gus Lissington wouldn’t be going anywhere for quite some time.

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Gus shot the healer another scowl before he tipped his head back against the cool wall behind him like it was going to suck the heat from his bones. It didn’t, unfortunately. He stayed there a few seconds longer before he heard McKinnon rooting through the dreaded healer’s kit, which caused him to sit up – he hated those bags because that always meant the healer was actually going to look over him and not just sign off on his parchment, which honestly ruined his life more than helped it.

(Okay, okay. So maybe that was a bit dramatic.)

Gus laughed as the man shivered. “And you healers with a thirst for the mundane.” He shot back, letting his eyes drift up toward the amber chart, which he quickly squinted at, lips pursing together the moment it glowed. Gus caught Derek’s expression—tight, irritated, not buying it in the least that he was fine—and slouched further down on the bench. He ignored the sweat beading around his temple.

“I just spent a very long time in a tomb with a homicidal hex blocking the entrance and with air so stale it could’ve choked a troll to death.” Gus growled. ”Forgive me for not coming out looking fresh as a bloody daisy. My body temperature will regulate now that I’m out of there.”

Merlin, he was hot, and now that McKinnon had mentioned it, it was all Gus could focus on. Finally, he gave in and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Can we hurry this along? How much water do you need to see me drink before I can go?” Gus let his gaze linger on the healer, eyes narrowing. He definitely wasn’t going to be staying long – he had a jungle to get to!

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Thirst for the mundane? Derek let out another snort. He was out here saving lives thank you very much; if anything he had a thirst for seeing his patients healthy which was arguably harder when they kept traipsing into bloody cursed tombs. Normally he would tell Lissington to sit down and shut up and let him work, but the cursebreaker’s griping seemed to actually work in Derek’s favor, giving him key information that might explain why his patient’s body temperature seemed to be climbing.

Derek watched the bead resembling Lissington’s temperature in the diagnostic chart climb higher and higher as his explanation continued.

And even for all his grumbling and growling, Derek could tell the man was starting to really feel the effects of — whatever it was he’d contracted. And of course, he thought he could fix it with water. “Ahh, no.” Derek replied immediately, shaking his head. No, they could most certainly not hurry this along. Gus would be lucky if Derek didn’t drag him back to the hospital with him. Of course there was no way on Earth the healer would tell that to him. Not unless he wanted a runner on his hands. As much as he enjoyed tackling his brothers off their broomsticks when they scrimmaged Quidditch, Derek was not in the mood to fill out paperwork explaining why he had to physically restrain a patient. Not to mention Lissington would probably curse him to hell.

“I’m afraid this won’t be easily solved with just water, but now that you mention it,” He gave another purposefully annoying cheerful smile to Gus and handed him a vial. “Bottoms up. It tastes horrible. Drink it all.” And at the same time he would down the potion, Derek would cast the corresponding spell to regulate Lissington’s temperature from the inside and out while he tried to solve the greater issue at large.

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Derek snorted, and Gus chose to believe it was because he was so damn funny and not because the healer didn’t agree with him. Just like he didn’t agree that water would fix whatever little issue this was, although he had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t going to be allowed to leave anytime soon. (Which was a shame because Gus really did want to head off to his next destination, although he really didn’t want to be left feeling like his skin was going to melt from his bones for the rest of his life.)

Blue eyes snapped up to Derek as he spoke rather cheerfully, which just made the redhead grind his teeth together as he reluctantly took the vial from him. He raised it so it was just in front of his face, the glass pinched between his thumb and forefinger like it might bite him if he wrapped his fingers around it. The liquid was almost clear with little bubbles in it, so it was impossible to tell if it was going to taste great or just…awful. Probably the latter, knowing Derek, although he was quick to confirm those thoughts.

Might as well get it over with. Gus uncorked the vial and tossed it back in one swift gulp before he immediately gagged at the taste. “What the hell McKinnon!” He swore, “That’s vile. Do you get joy from this?” He probably did because he was weird like that.

Gus paused to groan (why couldn’t Derek enchant it to taste like chocolate or mint or… something else?), but then he shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bench like it was suddenly too hot to sit still. Which, judging by the sweat beading at his temple, it was. He swiped a sleeve across his brow before he leaned forward, nearly toppling off the edge of the bench; Gus caught himself before he managed to fall on his face.

“I swear I only looked at it.” The redhead mumbled, which of course was code for, I probably touched something I shouldn’t have, and now I’m stuck here.

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It might have been a little concerning that a healer was suppressing such a large smile while his patient was suffering through having to drink a potion; except this was Gus, so Derek wasn’t too ashamed at his lack of ability to not grin at Gus’ reaction. “I suppose I should given how much I’ve gotten that response to the potion, but no I usually just have a lot of sympathy,” He responded, tilting his head and attempting to search his body for any such reaction.

As his friend tipped sideways, Derek quickly shot his hand out to steady him. Wouldn’t do him much good if he fell on his face. Not after having this kind of reaction. Judging by the whirring above his head, Derek guessed that Gus was extremely uncomfortable, and it looked like his body temperature was about to rise even further.

“You swear you only looked at it?” He echoed, his eyes narrowing. “Which means you did the exact opposite, didn’t you?”

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A low, miserable groan escaped Gus, because of course Derek McKinnon was a sadist disguised as a healer. “Well, if you’ve ever tasted pond water steeped in burnt nettles, you’ll know exactly what you’ve just put me through.” He narrowed his eyes to glare at the man before swallowing hard as though it might banish the lingering aftertaste. It didn’t, of course, much to Gus’s dismay.

Gus pressed his elbows into his tights. “Only looked at it, I swear!” He repeated quickly, although the narrowing of McKinnon’s eyes made him grimace. “And then I decided to maybe, kind of prod… once. Very, very… very lightly.” His gaze slid to the floor, studying the lines in it. “It’s not like you can put something like that in front of me and not expect me to touch it. What if it held the most sought after treasure in the world, like the Heirloom Seal of the Realm?”

Did Gus want to be rich and famous? Absolutely. Yes, yes he did.

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