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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