A/N So I am fairly new to the Harry Potter universe (as in I literally just finished watching all the movies less than a month before writing this) So I am sorry if it kinda sucks. I had a few ideas for this one and this is the first one I managed to write. Let me know what you guys think. If you are interested in seeing me try another one or finish this one let me know. My other idea involves them as students. Enjoy <3
John was bored. He tried to busy himself with tidying the hospital, organizing the potions and books of spells, but there was only so much he could do. He let out a huff of air and settled into his chair. He readied his quill over the page of his journal, planning to start writing, but the words never came. He had been asked by the headmaster to write his daily thoughts, a way to ensure that he was doing alright. He hated that he had to be monitored, but the Ministry of Magic was determined to make sure he didn't have another meltdown.
John threw his quill down, running his hands through his hair and growling in frustration. It was his first year here at Hogwarts, and the first year the school was open after the death of Voldemort. He could hear the students milling about in the halls, remembering back to his days studying here in these halls. He got lost in the memories for a while, trying to recall the names of his friends.
"Doctor Watson?" John was shocked out of his thoughts by a deep voice coming from the doorway. He looked up and saw a young man standing there, propped up against the door frame. He was wincing in pain and gripping his wrist. John saw blood and immediately jumped into action. He hurried over to the man and slipped his arm around his waist, pulling him to the nearest bed and pushing him down. He investigated the damage done to the pale wrist.
"What happened?"
"Nothing that is any concern of yours." John couldn't contain the irritated eye roll he shot at the man.
"I have to know what caused the damage so I know what kinds of potions I can and can't use. If I use the wrong potion or spell I can make the damage worse." He was fighting to separate the sleeve of the man's white shirt from the skin surrounding the wound without causing more damage. It looked like an acid burn, but he couldn't be sure. The young man scowled, blushing slightly.
"I was trying to make a potion that had the same affect of a Draught of Peace, but could also be used as a Draught of Living Death. I guess they don't mix all that well." John watched the young man's face and smirked when he saw something familiar building in those pale eyes. This was a troubled man in his infirmary, something that John was all too familiar with.
"If you need something that will calm your mind while you sleep, you should have come see me sooner." He winked and stood, walking over to his cabinet and looking through his stash of potions. "It would have saved you a lot to pain." He had no idea why his tone had changed to something almost flirtatious, but he went with it, hoping the strange man wouldn't be offended. He heard a deep chuckle coming from the man and allowed himself to giggle along with him. He grabbed the supplies he needed, including his wand, and headed back over to his patient.
He sat down beside him and started mixing the ingredients, sneaking glances at the strange man next to him.
"You fought in the muggle war." It wasn't a question; the man was certain about his statement.
"How did you know that?" The man shrugged, blushing again.
"I must have heard it from one of the other teachers."
"Not possible, the only person in the school that knows of my time in the war is Stamford, and he doesn't talk about it."
"You must have mentioned it-"
