Fine Delusions

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a/n: Smut ahead.

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Chapter 4: Fine Delusions

"Arabella Figg, sixty years old," Padma said, picking up the diminutive woman's chart, "presented early this morning suffering from injuries related to a fall down the stairs - "

"My cats," Arabella explained, looking sheepish. "Always underfoot, you see, and they're - well, they're a bit of a shifty breed, truth be told, they've got these" - she paused, holding her hands up to her face, "overlarge eyes, and it's all a bit dodgy with them - "

Padma frowned. "I'll add paranoia to the list," she muttered, scribbling on the clipboard, as Arabella's eyes widened.

"No, it's not paranoia," she said quickly, "it's not that I suspect they're actually out to get me, it's only that they could, I think - "

"Some abrasions," Padma continued, not looking up, "but mostly a fracture from the impact to her patella, so I ordered x-rays and called for an orthopedic consult to make sure there was no damage to the surrounding ligaments. Barring surgery - "

"Surgery?" Arabella squeaked, jolting upright and then wincing in pain. "Dr. Patil, surely you don't mean to tell me - "

"We'll see when the ortho consult arrives," Padma said briskly, and then looked up, awaiting approval from their attending physician, Dr. Pomfrey.

"Er, Arabella, was it?" Dr. Pomfrey asked, stepping forward to place a comforting hand on the patient's shoulder. "You're fine, ma'am, this is just standard protocol, considering the details of your fall." She gave the woman's shoulder a brisk pat. "Dr. Patil is very thorough; though, perhaps, less sensitive than one would hope," she added meaningfully, and from where he stood between Hermione and Padma, Dean let out a barely concealed snicker.

"What?" he protested indignantly, glowering back as Hermione and Padma both glared warningly at him. "Your bedside manner leaves quite a bit to be desired."

"Whatever," Padma offered under her breath, as Dr. Pomfrey got caught in conversation with the fidgety Arabella. "The woman will not stop talking about her cats, and I've been here for ten fucking - "

"Is that all, Dr. Patil?" Dr. Pomfrey prompted, and Padma snapped to attention, nodding.

"Yes, Dr. Pomfrey, that's all," she said, and their attending nodded.

"Dr. Granger?" she prompted. "Yours?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, stepping forward as they shifted their attention to the second bed in the room. "Gilderoy Lockhart, thirty-four, presented yesterday afternoon with moderate head trauma. I ordered a psych consult, but it proved, er" - she paused, biting her lip - "a bit challenging."

"Ah, hello," Gilderoy said brightly, propping himself up to greet them. "Gilderoy Lockhart, lovely to meet you all - would you like me to sign this?" he offered eagerly, reaching for her clipboard.

"Oh, not just now, Mr Lockhart," Hermione said hurriedly, clutching his medical chart to her chest. "Perhaps later - "

"Your breasts, then," Gilderoy said brightly, "shall I sign those?"

Dean coughed, covering a laugh behind his hand, and Hermione felt her cheeks flush.

"Er, Mr Lockhart is suffering from a rather disconcerting mix of confusion and memory loss," she murmured, stepping close to Dr. Pomfrey as he excitedly gestured to Padma, miming an autograph across her chest. "Amnesia, delusions of grandeur, some evidence of mania - "

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