InsaneJournal

The purpose of Sofía’s work study opportunities over the last few months was to accustom her to things beyond spells that could be used as security measures, all with the intention of making her a better cursebreaker. It wouldn’t really be hard for anyone to guess which of the three had been her favourite; her time at St. Mungo’s had taught her more than just what to do with a cauldron. Her two months at Kew, too, had given her a greater appreciation for how deadly plants could be.

But it was her final external assignment, magizoology, which had brought her back to St. Mungo’s.

This wasn’t how she’d expected her day to go. It had started early with a Portkey to a small island in the Outer Hebrides called Ronay. Of all the work assignments she’d had so far, it was the closest to where she’d grown up, though it was still 300 miles from Montrose as the broom flies. Muggles had left the island for good a century ago, but there were still wizards who lived there from time to time to study the native flora and fauna.

Of particular interest was the lone Hebridean Black who had settled there nearly thirty years before. Sofía was there to try to observe the dragon from a distance, to not only see it in its native habitat but to learn to recognise the signs that a dragon lived in an area. The planning for the excursion had been impeccable. Sofía’s mentor and two colleagues had assessed every possible risk, it seemed, and given her maps to study which detailed not only the dragon’s usual haunts but other animals and magical beasts on the island. The maps had been updated in April and their accuracy had impressed Sofía greatly, even marking a tree that had been felled by a storm earlier in the year.

At least, it impressed her right up until the team’s telescope was planted straight into an unmarked doxy nest. It could only have been a matter of weeks since the eggs had been laid and the ground crumbled easily under the weight. The small, black, fairy-like creatures swarmed the group and it was all a little blurry for Sofía after the first few painful bites to her arms. They’d known there were doxies on the island and all carried an antidote to the potent poison as a precaution. She’d managed to find the vial in her pockets and the pain from the bites dulled at the first swallow. For a brief moment she’d felt better, the doxies fleeing after a barrage of knockback jinxes from her mentor whose dragon hide jacket had fended off the worst of the small, sharp teeth.

It had quickly grown hard to breathe, Sofía’s throat swelling before she could call out and, according to MacFusty, she’d hit her head after passing out.

Waking up in St. Mungo’s, Sofía felt like she was floating on a wave of pain potions and the herbal smell of a salve under the bandages on her arms. It was incredibly rare, the Healer had told her, but she was allergic to an ingredient in the antidote. Considering who her boyfriend was, the idea that she was allergic to a potion made Sofía break out into uncontrollable giggles that made her ribs hurt.

“I told you he was pretty,” Sofía insisted to the mediwitch who was changing her dressings a few hours later. The anaphylaxis had been treated but the injuries inflicted by the doxies were still healing. All in all, Sofía felt as though someone had hit her with the Knight Bus, but the sight of Bash making his way across the ward was a sight for sore eyes and she marvelled at how fucking handsome he was, not realising she’d spoken that thought out loud.

Bash didn’t see the mediwitch’s small laugh when she looked up to see him nearly storming across the ward. All he saw was Sofía. His Sofía, banged up and wrapped up and groggy. How the hell had this happened and who did he need to kill for almost killing his Sofía.

He came to her side and the mediwitch was already gone, probably having heard of his ‘moods’ and making herself scarce. “Sof,” he whispered, his anger fading to a simmer at the back of his throat as he came close to her, being replaced with fear and love and a deep, deep hurt at seeing her like this. Knowing what could have happened. He brought his face close to hers and whispered little kisses to her temple, her hairline, his hands hovering near her but afraid to touch and hurt her.

“Sof,” he whispered again, feeling unable to say anything else, just being washed over by relief that she was at least here and warm and safe and not dead.

It hadn’t hit home to Sofía yet how serious the allergic reaction had been and why that was why she felt so drained. Her complexion was doing a good impression of the pale cotton pillowcase behind her head, the splotchy rash across her neck and chest having subsided under the dutiful attention of the Healers.

Her face turned towards his kisses like a flower seeking the sun. “Bash, you came.” She knew he would, that was why she’d asked for him. The need to see him once she had something resembling her wits about her had hit her almost as hard as the doxy bites.

Sofía licked her dry lips. “Doxies are nasty little fuckers,” she complained with a pout, her usual careful filter wiped out by the pain potions.

“Mi corazón, estaba tan asustada que, no puedo perderte.”* The Spanish fell from his lips unbidden — he hadn’t realized he was getting so good, but later when he’d look back at the moment, he’d realize that stress does weird things to your brain.

Also weird — he had tears in his eyes. Bash wasn’t a crier, let alone in public, let alone at work. But he was. Crying. At work. They hadn’t fallen, the tears, but they were there all the same. He looked her over thoroughly now and then looked for the mediwitch to get some answers about these doxies. When the witch didn’t want to answer any questions because he wasn’t family, Bash’s anger flowed entirely back to the surface, like a tidal wave crashing over the poor woman. Flustered, she quickly sputtered out something about allergies and potions and then fled the scene. Bash would undoubtedly get at least a talking to by his boss, but he didn’t care.

A potion? His darling Sofia was hurt by… a potion? An allergy? Had he given it to her? He gave her potions for colds and the like, like he did for any of his friends and family, and he was authorized to do so as a Master, but still… had he caused this? And if not, who had?! Because whoever they would were would burn, whether he decided upon literally or figuratively, Bash didn’t know yet.

He turned back to Sofia in her bed and brushed hair back from her warm forehead, staring into her eyes. Gods, what he would do if anything worse had happened to her…

*My heart, I was so scared, I can’t lose you.

Groggy as she was, Bash’s quiet words switched her thoughts to Spanish so when she tried to speak it came out in that language too. “Rélajate.” She giggled tiredly at how wound up he was. “I’m okay.” She wasn’t, but Bash was here and she was awake, so she was pretty sure she was going to be fine.

She put her hand on his arm, making sure she had his full attention. Sofía wanted those soulful eyes on her, not glaring at other people. Except even through her brain fog she could see that Bash was on the edge of tears which made something in her chest ache in a way that was entirely unrelated to her injuries and made her own eyes prickle.

Sofía swallowed, her throat still sore. “We stumbled onto a doxy nest. Got bit. Turns out I’m allergic to an ingredient in the antidote.” It seemed to be sheer bad luck that she’d never known about it before today. “It’s no one’s fault.”

Her gaze dropped down to her arms. Since she couldn’t take the usual antidote, the Healers were using a salve to draw out the remaining venom and heal the wounds. It itched and ached, but it was bearable for now. A deep sigh ripped itself from her chest. “I just want to go home,” she admitted.

When she explained what had happened, Bash’s lips thinned in frustration and that ever-roiling anger of his. He breathed through his nose to try and calm down, no need to make her feel bad about his feelings, after all. He followed her gaze to her arms and sighed, feeling helpless, not a feeling he was accustomed to. But when she spoke again, he snapped back to her face and listened intently, nodding. “Home, yeah?” he asked. He assumed her parents were listed as her next of kin, but she was an adult, and could technically sign herself out, though he wouldn’t want her to do that against medical advice. “One second,” he whispered, close to her hairline, before kissing her lightly there. Straightening up, he went and found her Healer and asked their opinion.

Basically, as long as someone was able to care for her - change her wrappings and use the salve correctly and all that, as well as help her with other bodily needs - constantly, for a week give or take a couple of days, she could leave.

He disappeared from the ward and back to the labs, to tell his Manager, in a tone that brooked no negotiation, that he would not be back for at least a week but would keep her informed. He turned over his projects physically to the common lab, grabbed his things, and then locked up his lab (with an extra charm for security, because he did not trust his coworkers). He was back to the ward and Sofía’s bedside in less than ten minutes. “Home it is,” he said, the thought that she may have meant her flat not even occurring to him. He had his own space, his own bathroom suite, his own lab... Despite sharing the townhouse with the twins, they all rarely saw each other and they knew that Sofía spent most nights there anyway. When she said ‘home’, he heard ‘our home’ - which was the townhouse.

She wouldn’t be able to floo or apparate, so he took her out the Muggle entrance and flagged down a cab for them, after she was given the paperwork from the mediwitch who had run away from him earlier.

As Bash left her bed, Sofía closed her eyes to try and pull her thoughts together. It was too difficult, though, every thought slipping away from her without another person to focus on. It was frustrating and unfamiliar to someone who always felt so switched on to the point that it was difficult to fall asleep at night. Bash could have been gone for ten minutes or two hours and Sofía wouldn’t have known the difference, though she opened her eyes when she heard him coming back to her bed. A soft smile spread across her lips as she realised that she could recognise Bash just from the sound of his footsteps.

She had enough of her wits about her to understand Bash’s intentions, though she had to have her own conversation with the mediwitch. Merlin, she hoped it would be less than a week before she was back on her feet properly. Glancing at Bash she knew she was going to be under close observation with him looking after her. There was nowhere she wanted to be more than in the bed they shared most nights. After four months together, his area of the townhouse had become the place she thought about going back to every day after work. At some point she would need to examine that more closely, but relief at going somewhere familiar washed away most other thoughts.

Oh, Queenie. She thought about her cat with a sort of dismay as they left the hospital onto the Muggle street, Bash’s arm around her back to stop her from wobbling; it was like being drunk without any of the fun stuff. She’d have to text Lily and her mum. It wouldn’t be fair on Lily to ask her to look after Queenie so maybe she could ask her mum to look after Queenie for a few days.

In the cab, Sofía rested her head on Bash’s shoulder. She wanted to hold his hand, but he was treating her so carefully that she wasn’t sure he would want to. “Sorry if I messed up your day,” she told him quietly, realising fully now that she had pulled him away from his brewing.

Bash helped her into the cab and then relaxed his shoulder for her to lie on, despite the rest of his body tense with anger and sadness and, and, and... He couldn’t even put it to words in his head. He’d never really felt this before, whatever it was.

“You didn’t, whoever gave you potions without checking in about ingredients did,” he grumped. “But don’t worry, this didn’t mess up my day. And it doesn’t mess up my week, either, I took the time off.” He admitted it slightly worried about her response. Sofía loved her work, and she knew how much Bash did as well, and he didn’t want her feeling guilty.

They pulled up to the townhouse before too long and he helped her out and in, holding her gently the whole way to his bedroom, worried that if he picked her up he might hurt her. “Here,” he said gently, helping her into his unmade bed. He pulled the blankets up over her once she was settled in. “Can I make you anything? Lunch? Tea?” He wasn’t honestly sure how to take care of someone, and he was sure his face was still dark with simmering anger despite doing his best to keep his voice gentle and helpful.

Sofía was distracted by the sight of her reflection in the cab’s window. It was hard to make out, but she knew she must look like an absolute state. Even her curls seemed to have lost their bounce. She inhaled, trying to focus again. “Took it myself,” she murmured. “Didn’t even know I had any allergies.”

He was really taking the week off? For her? The thought, slippery as it was in her tired state, brought back that emotional ache in her chest as her eyes welled up. “You’re too good to me,” she complained, losing her filter again. She felt sorry for other people that they didn’t get to see Bash the way that she did. This was one ache that she didn’t want to get rid of, mentally trying to pull that sentiment close and hold it tight.

The bed was a welcome sight, even unmade. Just a few hours ago they’d left it a bit later than intended and Sofía certainly hadn’t pictured this being how her day would play out. This was one of her favourite places in the world, though, as much as a home to her as the flat that she shared with Lily. It was easy to relax against the pillows.

She blinked, not sure how to answer that question. Was she hungry? Sofía wasn’t even sure. She supposed that she didn’t feel much more than tired and aching. “Don’t know.” She sighed. “Maybe lie down with me for a bit?”

Bash watched her carefully as she thought on what she might need. She thought he was too good to her? He couldn’t disagree more, she deserved the moon and the stars and the sun and all of that other sentimental crap and Bash was... Just Bash. He was a workaholic trust fund baby with trust issues and a past One Night Stand list longer than his leg. She deserved someone just as pure and trusting and thoughtful as she was, and he did his damndest to give that to her, but he knew he fell short. He always fell short.

He nodded as she asked him to lie with her, toeing off his shoes and stripping down to his undershirt and boxers, before climbing carefully into the bed next to her, doing his best not to jostle or touch her. When he was settled, he put a hand gently to her face, his fingers brushing her jawline the barest bit and said, “I love you so much, Sofía,” he looked into her eyes and murmured (more to himself than to her), “my whole world,” and the power of the words shook him at his core.

Sofía closed her eyes briefly as Bash undressed, trying desperately to keep herself focussed. “You don’t need to take the week off. I can always go to my mum…” Her dad was in Mexico preparing for the World Cup at the moment; Sofía frowned, losing track of what she was thinking and what she was saying aloud.

Now that she’d settled, it was harder to stay alert and the potions in her system were making her brain foggier even as they numbed the wounds on her arms. Despite the salve and bandages, Sofía could somehow feel where each and every one of the bites was and she shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. She’d be sleeping on her back for a few days, she realised, opening her eyes again as the mattress shifted under Bash’s weight.

His words felt like they warmed her soul and Sofía couldn’t look away as her eyes met his. She didn’t want to either. A giggle bubbled out of her unbidden as she realised that this man, who was secretly more romantic than he would ever care to admit, probably would have made more of a grand gesture telling her that for the first time if she hadn’t got hurt. “I thought I was going to say it first,” she admitted, turning her head enough to catch his fingers with a kiss. “I love you too.”

“No,” he said, “You’re staying here and I’m taking care of you, you shouldn’t travel right now anyway,” he mumbled the last bit, feeling protective and possessive and cautious. “No arguments,” he said gently, feeling delicate. He’d make sure they let her parents know what happened when she was more lucid.

Bash hadn’t even realised it was the first time he’d said it - but when she said she thought she’d say it first, his heart swelled. She loved him. She loved him, and she’d known already - and he’d known already, too, but it wasn’t in his nature to say such things and that hadn’t even occurred to him. And now he’d said it, and she’d said it back and it was all he wanted to say forever, they were now his three favourite words in the history of language.

He kissed her forehead softly again and said, his tone hushed, “Rest now, try to sleep, I’m right here.” He’d get up and get her water and an easy snack soon, and maybe a sleeping draught to help her rest. She needed sleep and nourishment and healing. He’d make sure she got all of that and more.

Sighing, Sofía nodded. Nothing could compel her heavy limbs to move right now short of the bed being on fire and even that would be difficult without help.

The press of his lips to her forehead was the perfect distraction, somehow easing her pain. Everything felt better with Bash around. Everyone needs their own Bash, she thought briefly, murmuring her thanks. It was going to be a long week of recovery, but at least they had each other.