morgan macdougal eats your kind for breakfast. (bangupjob) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2009-11-01 21:12:00 |
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Morgan felt tired down to her bones. No matter how little blood affected her, there was still nothing that could counter just how traumatizing it was to see friends fallen and innocent people wounded. Never good with confronting emotions, Morgan hated to see the weeping and broken crying out for help and pain. She simply went about her job, tending to those who needed it, and moved onto the next person. Her bedside manner left a lot to be desired. Thankfully, bedside wasn't something that most medi-witches had to deal with. The very nature of their profession pressed the need to move on. The castle was buzzing with activity, and after having checked around to make sure that all those who needed help were cared for, she made her way toward the kitchens. Morgan was, if nothing else, a voracious eater, despite her clothing covered in blood or mental images in her head. Nick was there, however, and for one brief moment, she was overcome with emotion. Though she cared a great deal about him - she'd even admit that she loved him - the thought that he might be hurt had never crossed her mind. Now, looking at him, she was overcoming with guilt at her lack of concern. "Nicholas..." she croaked out, standing halfway across the kitchen. "Are you all right?" "I'm not a pile of ashes," he answered, which really indicated that he'd be okay. The bullet wound in his chest felt like it was on fire. Nick had purposefully steered clear of the healers, not because he wished to avoid Morgan, but because she needed to be in her zone while working. His bullet wound, while excruciating, wasn't going to be finishing him off anytime soon. His skin was paler than usual. 'Deathly' would have been a fair description of him. He ripped off a cap off his third bottle of NuBlood and began to drink, eyes closing as he did so. The only way to really heal a vampire's wound was time and blood, and while Nicholas had plenty of the former, the latter was something he stood the possibility of running out of. "I was irritated that you couldn't go," he said, setting the now-empty bottle on the counter with a clang. He leaned forward, palms down on the countertop as if supporting his weight. "Irritated. Not upset with you, of course, but I had wished that we might go out to some silly fancy thing. Dance together, make fun of the idiots together. And now I'm so bloody glad that you weren't there." His eyes flicked to hers. "You could've handled it. You could've stayed safe. But it was a relief, all the same, to know that you were here when the Death Eaters started streaming through the crowd." Morgan had been prepared for a fight from those first few words. Her thumping heart vibrated in her throat when he began complaining that she couldn't have been there, that he was irritated. Sure, he'd said it wasn't at her, but it never took much for Morgan to feel as if the pointing fingers were at her, and not her job. Even when they were at her job, she took it personally. She loved doing what she did; she got to save people. But then everything crashed down with his last few words, and no longer seeing red, she saw that something was wrong with Nicholas Harrow. Normally, she'd be able to smell the bloody wound, at least just enough to know there was a wound, but with the bottles of NuBlood, that was impossible. Swooping across the room, not unlike the vampire bats they often made fun of, Morgan was beside him. "Let me see it," she demanded, automatically reaching out for his cloak. "Nick, let me see what happened. I can help." "You've other people to tend to," he reminded her, and even if the words were stern, his tone was reluctant. Already half-giving in. When it came to being stubborn, Morgan admittedly had the monopoly, and with a resigned sigh Nick straightened and faced her. "It's not as bad as it looks," he said, opening up his cloak to show the rather-dire chest wound. "Wasn't a stake." "Other people have been tended to, and so I'm so bloody tired and fucking cranky right now, I don't have time to deal with the noble approach, Nick," Morgan growled. She instantly regretted it the moment she saw the wound. Normally, gun shot wouldn't didn't bother her. She'd lived most of her life in the country, and what time she didn't spend in the country was spent tending to accidents of all sorts. But this was Nick, and it was different somehow. With a strangled gasp, Morgan looked appropriately horrified. "You need blood. You need a fuckload of blood. We don't have a fuckload of blood here, Nick." "So I'm finding." With a wince, he dropped his coat back over the injury, leaning against the counter. "I was going to ask if you might apparate me over to Knockturn? I used to get my blood from a blackmarket seller, and it's better than this fake shit." That was first nasty thing Nick had ever said about NuBlood. While he appreciated its many uses, NuBlood really did have nothing on the real thing, especially now. Morgan winced at his obvious pain. With any other wizard, she could simply patch up the wound, and they could give him a load of potions to ease the suffering. Turning quickly, she Summoned her bag, reaching inside with withdraw a few pain potions. If nothing else, they might ease some of it. Holding out a vial, she ventured, "How much blood do you need?" "I'll be okay with a good..." Nick tried to remember what had happened the last time he'd been this injured. That'd been a good thirty years ago, during World War II. He'd gone through three drunk people and a dog, taking pains not to kill any of them. "At least a solid ten pints," he admitted. "But I'd make do on six without much of a problem." He took the pain potion with a grimace. Nick didn't care what people said about pain potions not having affects on vampires; they made him feel better. "...thanks." "I don't have enough to heal you completely, but..." Morgan glanced up at him, knowing full well that Nick would likely baulk at the suggestion. "You could probably take two from me, and I'd be fine. It'd be a lot cheaper than going to Knockturn, at least for part of it." Either way, she wasn't going to let him pay for this whole thing on his own. If he needed blood, and he had to pay for it, then he was going to have to accept her help whether he liked it or not. She figured it would be not. It was a tempting offer, and unlike some sad sacks who got all whinging and self-loathing when their blood habit was brought up, Nick was grateful for the option. While he didn't have any moral objections to drinking from his girlfriend, and wasn't going to be passive-aggressive about it, he couldn't help but realise that she was exhausted, and she'd been in more need the next few days. "As lovely as that is, I'm going to have to decline," he said softly. "You need to be as strong as you can in the coming days. Perhaps if I'm not still well in a few days, we can reconsider? But I wouldn't wish to deprive you of strength now." He smiled just a little, and traced a line over her jaw. "But I bet you're delicious all the same." "Har har, Nicholas Harrow," Morgan answered with a smirk. Now she reached into her bag and pulled out her emergency change purse. One never knew when you needed a book on the night shift or a packet of fish and chips, and Gringott's was definitely closed at 3am. She took the hand at her cheek, turned it over, and placed several galleons into it. "Don't argue with me. You know it's fucking useless. We'll have to restock the NuBlood anyway, and you know that Angus would kick your arse if he thought you were refusing help when you've got a sucking chest wound the size of my head." But contrary to her words, she leaned in just a bit and gave him a soft kiss. It was the best she could do at telling him that she was glad he was (mostly) all right. "I wouldn't dream of refusing," he said, and really, when Morgan MacDougal got that look in her eye, it'd take Satan himself to get her to back down, and even then, the devil might lose that round. Her kiss had felt good. It was a nice change to feel pleasure instead of pain, and he smiled palely to himself. "You're doing good work in there." One hand stroked the small of her back. "I hate to take you hostage for a bit but I need to get to Knockturn... or else I'm going to be even more useless than I am now." His lips ghosted over her ear. Nick couldn't help it; he'd always been one for physical comfort, so it was really too bad that he had a freakin' hole in his chest at the moment. Tended not to be a turn-on for the ladies. "Let's get going then," she whispered in a hoarse voice. Only Nick would seemingly get turned on in a situation like this. Well, no. They kind of had that in common, didn't they? Two of a kind. Slipping an arm over his shoulder, she told him to brace himself for the journey, and with a loud Crack!, they were gone. |