As she moved toward him, he shot out his uninjured hand in an mad grab for the wand, exposing the wound in the process. A chunk of skin was missing. All in all, not as bad as it might be, but it would leave a nasty scar. He doubted very seriously that Xenophilius had essence of dittany at hand. And all of that paled next to the fact that his wife was keeping his wand well out of reach, and he was stuck as Jack Jones.
He clamped his hand back on the wound, giving her a rather sour look at the accusation. Git. She only called him that in jest.
"There is nothing you can do," he seethed. "I hardly think this is a case easily solved with stitches."
He gave a jerk of his head toward the wand. "I need that."
The temptation to test her wasn't easy to ignore; he suspected if he made a move toward the wand, his injury would prevent her from attacking him. Then again, this was the same Do No Harm doctor who had just jammed her foot down on her husband's old injury.
no subject
He clamped his hand back on the wound, giving her a rather sour look at the accusation. Git. She only called him that in jest.
"There is nothing you can do," he seethed. "I hardly think this is a case easily solved with stitches."
He gave a jerk of his head toward the wand. "I need that."
The temptation to test her wasn't easy to ignore; he suspected if he made a move toward the wand, his injury would prevent her from attacking him. Then again, this was the same Do No Harm doctor who had just jammed her foot down on her husband's old injury.