More than Just Surviving - Fanfiction

Harry Potter + Grey's Anatomy Crossover

By: Griffindorks I'd just been going through the motions of life after the war. I had served their purpose, so I went out and found my own. Now it's my time to thrive and be more than just the Boy-Who-Lived. Read to find out how he went from being wartime Harry to becoming a surgeon at Seattle Grace Hospital, and what changes he brings to its halls. Smart/Competent Harry, Better Summary in Profile.

Rated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Romance - [Harry P., Addison M., Mark S.] Meredith G. - Chapters: 6 - Words: 50,149 - Reviews: 90 - Favs: 414 - Follows: 487 - Updated: May 10, 2020 - Published: Feb 8, 2020 - id: 13496368

AN: Hey Everyone! This story was originally named Surviving, written by the author, who goes by Writing .Is .My .Everything1 here on FF and tristan_jace on AO3. The both of us decided to co-write an entirely new and unrecognizable rewrite of the older version.

A few things you might want to be aware of: the story will be following the GA plotline for the most part with increasing level of artistic license as it goes on; not all chapters will be the same length and will be dependent on what we feel needs to be covered, for all associated tags for the story check out the AO3 version "More Than Just Surviving by tristan_jace".

Harry is still very much in touch with the Magical World, and HP characters will be popping in and out of the story. The level of 'amorous behaviors' will be rated Mature, possibly Explicit, but not sure yet. Each episode referenced will be listed at the top of every chapter to lessen any confusion.

Also, this is my first fanfiction, so please leave constructive reviews. They will be greatly appreciated and encouraging.

Thank you for checking out the story. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Ep. Ref: S01E01

Chapter One

Fyodor Dostoyevsky once said, "The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for." A life without purpose is a painfully hollow existence. Some are unlucky enough to never find theirs. I thank Death every day that I escaped that fate. I'd been a hollow shell of myself after the war. It took a while, but I found my direction, and the long and eventful journey of self-discovery has brought me to my latest destination. This rainy, cloudy, and downright depressing city of Seattle. Absolutely perfect in my books, just like back home. I miss it, and them, my friends and chosen family, but they understood why I had to step out into the world. I had served their purpose, and it had been time to strive for my own, and be more than just the Boy-Who-Lived…

Harry's POV

Harry slid out of bed just as his alarm went off, and with a groan, reached out a hand to slap the snooze button. He carefully stepped around the clutter of new employee paperwork and policy manuals currently scattered around his bedroom floor and made his way towards the hallway bathroom. Completing his other morning ablutions, he lingered in the shower for as long as possible, hoping to give Mer enough time to kick out her latest 'tequila mistake' from last night. Knowing and unfortunately hearing what your little sister had been up to was one thing, but he felt no inclination to be faced with the evidence. A bloke had his limits.

"This is…" A deep voice trails off, Mer's following right after.

"Humiliating on so many levels. You have to go."

"Why don't you just come back down here and we'll pick up where we left off?" Harry chuckled at the man's attempt to lure Mer back to 'bed' as he made his way back to his bedroom. He needed to get dressed for the day and reminded himself to grab an extra set of clothes. As his experience of working at hospitals had taught him, it was better to be prepared.

Meredith's POV

"No, seriously, you have to go. I'm late, which is something you don't want to be on your first day of work, so..." Mer states, throwing the hot guy his clothes as she looked around for her own.

"So, ah, you actually live here?" Hottie asked, glancing around the dusty room with genuine interest.

"Nope." Mer replied, popping the 'p' and brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "Yes, kind of."

"Oh, it's nice. Little dusty, odd, but it's nice. So, how do you kind of live here?" God, why is he so disgustingly good to look at?

"I moved two weeks ago from Boston. It was my mother's house. We're selling it." Mer rambled, the blanket wrapped tightly around her as he buckled his belt.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You said was." He pointed out, still struggling with his pants.

"Oh! My mother's not dead. She's… you know what? We don't have to do the thing." She needed to get him out of the house ASAP. She could hear Harry moving upstairs, and she really didn't need her older brother witnessing her walk of shame.

"We can do anything you want." 'Gotta give him that, he's persistent.

"No, the thing. Exchange the details, pretend we care… Look, I'm gonna go upstairs and take a shower, and when I get back, you won't be here, so um, goodbye, uh..." Mer trails off awkwardly, trying to wrack her hungover brain for the guy's name.

"Derek." He supplied with disappointed amusement, reaching over to shake her hand.

"Derek. Right. Meredith." She needed out of here, now.

With a final, "Goodbye, Derek," she rushed up the stairs heading for the bathroom, only to come face-to-face with Harry coming out of his room. He was already dressed in dark blue jeans and an untucked black button-up, with his messenger bag over his shoulder. God officially hated her. Could this day possibly get any more embarrassing?

"Another 'tequila night'?" She glanced up to his iridescent emerald eyes and cringed sheepishly as she felt a wave of Harry's magic turning her blanket into a bathrobe.

The wizard leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed, eyebrow lifted, and a smirk on his handsome face.

Mer adjusted the robe and pushed aside her embarrassment. "Thanks, but please don't start. I really don't wanna talk about it."

"Fine, fine. Have it your way," he said, raising both hands in placation, the gesture entirely ruined by his widening smirk, and straightened up into his full 6'1" frame. "You better hurry anyway," he looked down at his watch, "you've got fifteen minutes if you don't want to be late." He started to leave but paused, asking, "Do you want to leave together?"

Taking a brief second to consent, she hurried to the bathroom.

Harry's POV

Harry started to pull some cereal from one of the kitchen cabinets but quickly chucked it in the bin at noticing the expiration date was five years ago. Well shite! Guess I'll have to stop by the grocer's on the way back. Merlin knows Mer lives on caffeinated sludge and air.

He quickly grabbed two eggs, cracking them on the pan, while throwing two slices of bread into the toaster. He placed the cooked eggs on each toast and topped it with a scoop of salsa he'd found in the fridge. Grabbing Mer's car keys, he summoned his black dragonhide jacket, courtesy of Charlie, from the living room. He had just enough time to shrug it on and grab their breakfast before Mer came zooming down the stairs making straight for the front door. Handing her the toast, he locked up behind them and headed to the car.

Instead of getting in, Harry just stood and stared in distaste. "Why do you insist on continuing to drive this death trap?"

"Oh, my God! Stop being such a guy, and how many times do I have to tell you, I am not getting rid of it. It's been with me since high school," Mer finished off lamely.

Blowing out a frustrated breath at her continued stubbornness on this long-standing argument, he gave her a narrow-eyed, 'McGonagall glare', and got in the car. He silently cried on the inside, missing his beautiful Audi RS7. That car was his one indulgence, but hey, he had to fulfill his need for speed somehow. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be delivered from Minnesota, along with the rest of his things, until later this week.

The drive to the hospital was peaceful. Harry ate his toast while Mer looked over her own orientation papers. Pulling into a parking spot, he caught Mer by her elbow before she could sprint away. "We forgot to discuss how you want to handle 'us'."

"What do you mean? Why can't we just say we're like siblings?" He could already tell from her pursed lips that his question had pinched at her deep-seated insecurity and abandonment issues.

Cursing internally, he made a move to nip her thoughts at the bud. "Mer, we both know how hard you've worked to get where you are, and I'm proud of you. Having said that, the last thing I want to do is cheapen your honestly earned accomplishments because of rumors of nepotism."

"So… we should just pretend to be strangers?"

He couldn't help but chuckle at her oh so disappointed look. "I don't think we have to be that extreme." After he gave it some thought, he added "Doing that might actually backfire if or when the truth comes out. Richard... I mean Dr. Webber, has always known of our connection. I think the best option might be to remain familiar, but professional, and if the subject comes up, just tell them the truth."

Mer had been nodding through his little speech, indicating her understanding. "So just stick with 'We've known each other since you first started as an intern with my mother'?"

"Pretty much. It would be no different than you working under Dr. Webber, since it's well known that he worked with your mother. With that settled, off you go 'young padawan'," he said impishly.

"You are such a nerd. Oh, and please don't embarrass me at work." Having said her piece, she ran towards the hospital.

Harry stared after her with just a smidgen of horror. Me? Embarrassing? Well, I never! He also headed in Mer's direction, ready to start another chapter in his, so far, eventful life.

Making his way in, Harry briefly glanced around the bustling lobby with interest, and made his way towards the elevators to see the Chief of Surgery for his marching orders.

Once he arrived on the right floor, he noticed the unlit windows of Richard's office, and headed towards the reception desk, racking his brain for the assistant's name. At the time of his interview, two months ago, he'd been given a tour of the hospital and briefly introduced to the hospital's big wigs and some of the staff, especially those in the unit he would be overseeing.

The receptionist looked up at his approach and greeted him with a bright smile, appearing to recognize him from their previous meeting. "Hi, Dr. Potter-Black, Dr. Webber asked me to let you know he's heading over right now."

Smiling in return, he began to reply but turned around at hearing Richard Webber's greeting from the elevators.

Richard's POV

Richard Webber would readily admit he had led a prolific career. Upon graduating from Northwestern University, he'd interned right here in this very hospital, before becoming a resident and an attending at one of the best hospitals in Manhattan. However, he was brought back full circle when Seattle Grace Hospital asked him to come back as their senior-attending general surgeon. The thing he was most proud of though was becoming the Chief of Surgery at the hospital where it had all started.

He had worked relentlessly to form one of the greatest surgical programs in the country, but as his wife, Adele, often liked to say, 'he was a driven workaholic'. It had been his dream, ever since he made Chief, to see SGH become the top surgical program in the country. For this to happen, his surgery department needed innovative surgeons unafraid to step out of their comfort zones, and residents with great potential.

After years of trying, he finally managed to entice two of the greatest surgeons of their fields to switch to SGH. Both being his students was beside the point. Just a few minutes ago, after welcoming the newest set of surgical interns, he had watched Derek Shepherd, his new Head of Neurosurgery, get settled into his department. So, it shouldn't come as a surprise that his face supported a beaming and satisfied smile as he took the elevator up to greet his second, and possibly, the greatest addition to the program to date.

Richard saw said young man standing at the reception desk, and before the elevator doors had the chance to fully open, he called out, "Harry, welcome to Seattle!" Richard pulled his unofficial, yet long-time protégé into a hug, noticing the look of surprise on his receptionist's face. "Why don't we head into my office, before I let you loose on the unsuspecting?"

"No need to make me sound so ghastly, Richard!" The older man couldn't stop a scoff from escaping at Harry's mock offense. He turned to guide his new surgeon to his office but paused as Harry smiled towards the receptionist, "Thanks for your help, Megan. I'll be seeing you around, I'm sure."

The Chief forced himself not to roll his eyes at the woman practically falling apart at the Englishman's accent. It wasn't the first time he had seen his protégé have that effect on women, which, to his exasperation, included his wife. Damn, I'm going to be in the dog house for forgetting to tell the woman Harry was moving here.

Shuffling that thought for later, he made a note to keep an eye on the man and Shepherd too, for that matter. They were both going to cause havoc being their charming selves, he just knew it. At least Shepherd was aware of the effect he had on people, but Harry was oblivious, or perhaps really practiced at appearing so. Richard had his suspicions.

Clearing his throat to dissolve any awkwardness, he directed Harry towards his office. Offering the younger man a seat, he inquired how he was settling in.

"It's nice here, I like it. Reminds me of back home," Harry replied, brushing his hair from his eyes and getting comfortable in his seat. "Plus, Mer is here, so it's worlds better than being in Minnesota."

Richard nodded in understanding, noticing the young man's softening emerald eyes as he spoke about the girl he had unofficially adopted as his sister. Through their communications over the years, Richard had learned just how deeply Harry had come to care for the lonely girl, downtrodden by the neglect shown towards her by an ambitious mother.

As often happened, the older man found himself becoming overwhelmed with his level of respect for his protégé. He had come such a long way from the boy Richard had first met during Harry's final year at Harvard Med School. While working in Manhattan, Richard had been asked to do a brief teaching stint for a semester and had been amazed by his then student's revolutionary thinking and passion for the discipline. He had gotten a sense of Harry's brilliance and generous heart at the time and thus had begun his tenure as a remote mentor for the younger man.

Learning of the prospective surgeon's internship under Ellis Grey had wholly blindsided him. Still, Richard had been happy in the knowledge that with the fire he'd seen in the young man's eyes, he would genuinely thrive under the strict woman.

Shaking away old memories, he asked his subordinate, "You realize that as soon as you're settled, Adele will expect you over for dinner?"

Harry must have read something on his face because, with a mocking tilt of his head and a contemplative glare, he asked, "You forgot to tell her, didn't you?"

"Uhem, maybe?" Having been caught, Richard glanced away from the subtle look of sadistic glee starting to build in the other man's eyes.

"Hmm... someone is definitely getting the couch," continued Harry with an unrepentant smile stretching across his face.

Placing his hands on his knees and pushing to stand, Richard turned a glare towards Harry and countered, "You know, for someone speaking with their boss on their first day of work, you sure are mouthy."

The boy had the nerve to just laugh unashamedly, as he too stood to follow Richard's silent indication to follow him out of the office.

The Chief started to lead his younger colleague towards the elevator, taking a second to lock his office. "I have this feeling that you'll be giving me daily headaches. I wonder why?" pondered Richard.

Harry's POV

Leaning back against the elevator wall and adjusting his messenger bag, Harry replied, "Keeping the blood flowing with a little challenge never hurt anyone, Richard."

"Don't ever change, Harry," his mentor replied fondly, after a brief pause to consider the comment.

Harry was well aware of his mentor's workaholic tendencies. Something Adele liked to frustratingly rant about. He knew she had every reason to, which is why Harry always made an effort to pull Richard out into the real world. Everyone knew him as Ellis Grey's disciple, and while she had taught him the skills of a top-grade surgeon, it had been the man standing next to him that taught him about the softer side of medicine. Having Richard to correspond with had kept Harry from growing too jaded under the tender mercies of Ellis.

Speaking of not becoming jaded, he asked Richard, "How long do you think the Board of Directors will hold up their end of the deal before trying to renege?" During his meeting with the Board after his interview, Harry had ethically disclosed his position as one of the leading members of the Potter 'Foundation for the Advancement of Medical Education and Research' (FAMER), and owner of Pev-Rell Innovations. However, he'd had them sign a non-disclosure agreement about the revelation and made it clear that the hospital should not expect preferential treatment just because he was on staff. Secondly, he had placed a condition on SGH retaining his services, one that was near and dear to his heart. His tenure with SGH would be dependent on the yearly surgical charity budget being raised by an additional $2 million.

"Son, you're the youngest Harper Avery Award Winner since Ellis. I think they would agree to bring you the moon to keep you here."

"I'm not saying I'm not pleased they agreed, but I really wish my status as an Award holder wasn't a factor for them agreeing to something they should be doing anyway. Their original charity allocation didn't even come close to matching up with their competitors".

"That's how the world works, Harry," the older man sighed.

They got out at the second level of the surgical wing, and Richard handed him the keys to his new office. He quickly glanced around, taking in the charcoal taupe walls, beige and blue contemporary furniture, with a wooden standing desk, and mounted bookshelves, both in a light wood color. "It's nice. Clean, minimal, and quiet. I like it."

"Glad to hear it. Now, let me just announce you to your staff one last time, and you can start getting familiar with the department's operations."

"Sounds good." Harry put away his bag and turned to Richard, who was waiting by the door, holding out a white coat. Hanging up his leather jacket and pulling on the coat, Harry looked at his reflection in the window to see the SGH logo on the right side of his chest. On the left was his title and his hand lifted to brush his fingers over the letters,

Harrison Potter-Black, MD. PhD. FACS. FRCS.

HEAD of EMERGENCY MEDICINE & TRAUMA SURGERY

There he stood. Once a lonely, malnourished boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs, now the head of two specialty units. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe how far he had come.

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, son." Placing a hand on the Englishman's shoulder, Richard added, "You deserve it, and I know you'll go on to do great things. The last time, I promise. Are you sure you don't want the post?" he asked, referring to the original job offer.

"Richard, there are still so many things I could do on the field, and I'm not ready to be bound to a desk yet. I'll help as much as I can though, to help lighten the load if needed. You've done so much for me over the years, the least I can do is return the favor."

"Alright, I might just take you up on it." He said with a smile. "Now come on, I'll walk you to your new home away from home."

"Lead the way, Chief."

"Hmm, you only say that because you don't remember how to get there yet." Harry placed his hand over his heart in mock offense.

"I'll have you know, I am 80% sure on how to find the ER," The wizard stated confidently, and then faltered, "Well, maybe 75." Richard smiled good-naturedly, and Harry returned it with ease as the lift descends to the ground floor.

Arriving at the ER, unanimously referred to as 'The Pit', and the home of the Trauma Unit, Harry and Richard found the nurses and other floor techs in the middle of their 'shift huddle'. Others bustled about helping the steady stream of patients, and the wizard found himself smiling at once again being in familiar territory. Richard made to interrupt the meeting, but Harry indicated for him to stop with a slight raise of his hand. He paid attention as the team discussed their agenda for the day, addressing which patients needed to be monitored, who was scheduled for surgery or discharge, who would handle intake, and whether a patient was ready to transfer from a central line to a regular IV. Seeing the meeting coming to a close, Richard made their presence known.

"If I could have everyone gather round?" announced the Chief and then waited for the others on staff to join the huddle. "Dr. Harrison Potter-Black here will be starting as the new Head of Emergency Medicine and Trauma Surgery today. I hope everyone can help him settle in."

"That was quite the comprehensive and concise huddle, I'm impressed," complimented Harry and saw uncertain but acknowledging smiles returned back at him. "It's a pleasure to see you all again. I remember... most of the faces here from our introduction last month, but please, continue to bear with me while I learn everyone's names. I intend to take most of today to get familiar with the department. Still, I'll be available if anything needing my attention comes up, so feel free to let me know," Harry stated in an amiable yet commanding manner.

Having said his piece, Harry took the time to happily renew acquaintances with his new staff. He informed them that over the coming weeks, he would be sitting down with everyone individually to get to know them better and get familiar with their roles. Harry wanted to gain a clear understanding of the different personalities and talents on his team and assess if or where improvements were needed to make the department function better.

"I almost forgot to mention, we have twenty new interns starting today, so I would proceed with... caution," Richard voiced as Harry dismissed the last of his team to return to their posts.

"Funny, but this isn't my first rodeo, Chief, but to allay your fears, I'll make sure they don't run me off on my first day," he joked with a small shrug.

With a straight face, Richard replied, "I meant, don't kill them."

The new department Head's eyes filled with mirth, and his head tilted into consideration. "I'll think about it, but I make no promises. Just in case though, they all have health coverage, right?"

The older surgeon shook his head at Harry's jest and paused at seeing something towards the open doors of the ambulance bay. With a tilt of his head, he indicated for Harry to follow. "Come, there's someone I think you'll enjoy meeting."

Miranda's POV

Miranda Bailey was having a stressful day and the unexpected approach of the Chief of Surgery had the potential for making it worse. That was, until her attention was diverted to the man following alongside him.

Well, I'll be damned.

Decked out in a translucent canary yellow gown, Miranda was prepared for the incoming ambulance, but not to meet one of the most accomplished surgeons and researchers in the country. Reading about him and seeing his pictures in scientific journals is one thing, but beholding him in real life, was quite a statuesque sight.

He had a swimmer's physique just north of six feet, and walked with a well-practiced and self-assured stride, reminding Miranda of a few soldiers she had come across in her line of work.

Nervously waiting as the pair neared, Miranda had to admit, at least to herself, the man was attractive. He had a chiseled square jaw with a prominent chin, all set within a heart-shaped frame. It was accentuated by slightly wavy, brunette hair, styled in a medium asymmetrical cut which fell over his left brow. The barest hint of stubble spanned across the lower half of his face, giving it a roguish quality. His roman nose and thin lips spoke of aristocratic bearing, while the broad unlined forehead gave the deception of unconcerned youth, but the existence of the extremely fine, silvery, lightning bolt shaped scar reaching down from his hair line towards his right brow, alluded to an eventful past.

Great, thought Miranda, another pretty face. I hope he's not as bad as Derek Shepherd. Dr. Webber had introduced her to the new Head of Neurosurgery earlier. While she couldn't fault him for his talent as a first-class surgeon, the man was too good looking, and too charming, and too flirty, and he smiled too much. She didn't know how, didn't know when, but she did know Shepherd would become a pain in her ass one day.

Miranda was dislodged from her thoughts when Dr. Webber spoke. "Harry, this is Dr. Miranda Bailey. She's one of our third-year residents in General Surgery, and Dr. Bailey, meet Dr. Harrison Potter-Black, our new Head of Emergency Medicine and Trauma Surgery."

Taking a step closer towards her, and with an upturn of his lips, the new Head offered his hand in greeting. "I'm extremely pleased to finally meet you, Dr. Bailey. I've heard great things."

Hold up, what?

Briefly taken aback by his British accent and smooth baritone, and still trying to get over meeting such an impressive personality, she dazedly shook his hand. A hand that was, for a surgeon, surprisingly callused and dispersed with several nicks. Her confusion from his words must have shown on her face because a laugh broke across Dr. Potter-Black's face.

Oh, for the love o' God! He has dimples? Tall, dark, British, handsome, dimples, British. Her eyes narrowed. Yup, definite trouble. Maybe worse than Shepherd.

"Sorry. It's just I've known Dr. Webber since I was in medical school, and for the past three years, I've been hearing," he looked teasingly towards said man, "raving reviews about a Miranda Bailey. So yes, it's a pleasure to finally put a face to the name."

Miranda gazed up to access the sincerity in his eyes and was taken aback at the overwhelming impressions contained within his almond-shaped, crystalline emerald eyes. While they were some of the most beautiful she had ever seen, deep-set with hooded lids, and framed by full brows, that wasn't what had brought her to a pause. It was that, while his gaze did give evidence of his current mirth and happiness, lending credence to his words, they also told of a past fraught with disappointments, pain, and so much loss. They looked as if they had seen too much at too young an age.

Perhaps, it was because of his experience that his gaze felt keen and observant, seeming to take in everything and everyone around him at once. It made Miranda think back to her initial impression of him being a soldier. Thankfully, they still shone with an abundance of hope, warmth, and confidence.

All in all, Miranda got the impression that while he'd had a hard life, he still had the will to thrive, and that shattered her previous perception.

No, not like Shepherd.

Though what surprised Miranda, was that despite his successful reputation, and the look of his experienced eyes, he looked much...

"Uh, Miranda?" the Chief called.

Miranda Bailey! What is wrong with you, girl? You are the, Nazi. You put the fear of God in interns and attendings alike. You kick ass and take names. Get your head back in the game.

"Sorry, I… thank you, that means a lot." She glanced at Dr. Webber to include him in her gratitude. She liked to act strictly professional and unfazed, but it felt good to hear that her superior thought highly enough of her.

"I was just surprised. Actually, I should be the one saying it to you. It really is an honor to have you here. I mean, I've read all your research papers about the 'Potter-Black Protocols', and it's truly amazing how much they've revolutionized emergency and trauma response methods."

Seeing Dr. Webber becoming more amused and realizing that she was rambling, she cleared her throat to recenter herself. At least, Dr. Potter-Black had enough manners to not laugh at her, unlike some people, she thought, trying not to glare at the Chief.

"I just wasn't expecting you to look so young in person. Especially with everything you've accomplished already." It felt quite humbling to be in his presence. Here she was, a twenty-nine year-old, fourth-year resident, and here was someone who was only five years older than her and had already led an illustrious career. She was also pleasantly surprised that he didn't seem to suffer from the usual ego which often came with being a hot-shot surgeon.

Their impromptu gathering was suddenly interrupted by nearing sirens before the ambulance pulled into the bay.

Well, here we go.

Cristina's POV

Cristina Yang was frustrated. She'd had so many plans and expectations for her first day of surgical internship. She graduated first in her class at Stanford, earned a dual doctoral degree in medicine and philosophy, was smart, and ambitious. She had expected to at least see the inside of an OR today. Instead, she'd been assigned labs like some nurse. At least she'd gotten to hear all about the fantastic surgery pulled off by the new trauma attending.

Grabbing some of the crap they tried to pass off as food from the cafeteria, she made a beeline towards where the other interns were sitting. She only recognized the blonde model, Izzie Stevens, and the socially awkward and possibly in-the-closet, George O'Malley. The others… whatever.

The blonde looked sick to her stomach and wouldn't even look at her food. Cristina flipped idly through her book in an attempt to ignore the overly chatty interns.

"You should eat something." George encouraged quietly as Izzie looked away from his sandwich with a grimace.

"You try eating after performing seventeen rectal exams. The Nazi hates me." Her disgusted mutter, brought a small smirk to Cristina's lips. Well, there is always something worse than labs.

George waved his spoon wildly with a dejected frown. "The Nazi's a resident. I have attendings hating me." Cristina shut her book and looked up to address the rest of the table.

"You know Meredith is inbred?" She crossed her arms atop the table and studied each of her fellow interns, but especially George O'Malley, the softest of them all. He reminds me of a puppy. So eager to please.

"Like it's uncommon around here to be a doctor's -"

"No, I mean, royally inbred. Her mother is Ellis Grey." Cristina interrupted him, her voice having dropped to just above a whisper.

"Shut up, the Ellis Grey?" She nodded at Izzie's inquiry while tapping her highlighter against the table.

"Wait, who's Ellis Grey?" asked George around a mouth full of food.

Cristina and Izzie shared a look before they laughed at the boy's ignorance. WOW! He did not just ask that.

"The Grey Method?" Cristina clarified incredulously. "Where'd you go to med school, Mexico?" The young woman couldn't grasp how the male intern made it through med school, let alone into Seattle Grace's surgical program if he didn't know something as simple as this.

Izzie chimed in. "She was one of the first big chick surgeons, she practically invented the abdominal-"

"She's a living legend. She won the Harper Avery. Twice," Cristina interrupted once more.

"So I didn't know one thing," George said defensively.

"Talk about parental pressure," Izzie muttered sympathetically, completely disregarding the man.

"I would kill to have Ellis Grey as a mother. I would kill to be Ellis Grey," she said longingly, knowing that she could be just as great, if only they would give her a damn chance. "All I need is one good case."

Right as Cristina finished her comment, Meredith Grey walked over and sat down heavily, slamming her tray down on the table. "Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. If I hadn't taken the Hippocratic oath, I'd Kevorkian her with my bare hands," complained the slight woman abruptly. Everyone stared at her in shocked silence.

"What?" she snapped, noticing everyone's stares.

"Speaking of Katie Bryce." Cristina waited until she had the other interns' attention before continuing her story. "I went to look for Bailey to update her about the patient's lab results..." and to hint about scrubbing in on the surgery that according to rumor, a new intern gets chosen for, but they don't need to know that. "...and saw her assisting in an emergency surgery on a cop, brought in with a GSW. From the looks of it, it looked pretty intense.

"According to the gossip at the nurse's station, the bullet fragmented on impact and shredded his bile duct and parts of his small intestine. The new trauma attending had to take over the surgery. There was just too much damage, and it was looking pretty hopeless." The interns were giving Cristina's retelling their undivided attention, but Meredith looked a little amused for some reason.

"That must be a top-notch surgeon though, because he ended up saving the patient by resecting all the damaged sections and rerouting them to get the patient stable. Now they're waiting on the tissue he ordered so he can go back in and repair the damaged tubes with grafts." Cristina finished off feeling both smug and impressed.

"He's not a new trauma attending." Everyone looked towards Meredith at her utterance, awaiting more information with bated breaths.

"He's the new Head of both Emergency Medicine and Trauma Surgery," she paused as their attentive gazes turned to shock, before adding, "...his name is Dr. Harrison Potter-Black."

Cristina's jaw slackened and a slight shiver traveled down her spine in response to her surprise. For a few seconds, all the interns remained silent, processing this information.

"Harrison Potter-Black is here? In this hospital?"

Meredith nodded in response to Cristina's questions.

"The Dr. Potter-Black? Of the internationally acknowledged Emergency Medicine Response Protocols?" Cristina added, only to receive another confirming nod from the other intern.

"He's a Harper Avery Award winner, you know," added George, causing everyone to finally come out of their dazed minds.

Before Cristina or one of the others could express their excitement at the possibility of learning under an award-winning surgeon, they were interrupted by Dr. Burke, the Head of Cardiothoracic Surgery, and their on-call attending for the day.

"Good afternoon, interns," said the attending. "It's posted, but I thought I'd share the good news personally. As you know, the honor of performing the first surgery is reserved for the intern that shows the most promise."

Now, this really got their attention. "As I'm running the OR today, I get to make that choice." Pausing briefly to clap George on the back, he exclaimed, "George O'Malley! You'll scrub in for an appendectomy this afternoon. Congratulations."

"Me?" responded the awkward boy intern in apparent bewilderment.

"Enjoy," having said his piece, Dr. Burke strode away.

No one spoke, and into this dead silence, O'Malley whimpered, "Did he say me?"

Meredith's POV

Mer approached Bailey, having spotted her at the door that lead to the second-floor lobby.

However, upon reaching her, Mer's throat closed up. Would Dr. Bailey think her lacking at not being able to handle the patient's family? What if this made her believe that Mer was incompetent?

She is called the Nazi, after all.

"Katie's parents have questions. Do you talk to them, or do I ask Burke?" Mer said, deciding to take the leap.

Harry had once mentioned that Interns, being fresh out of the classroom, shouldn't be making any decisions about a patient's treatment or what to tell their family, without first discussing it with their resident or attending. She hoped Harry's advice came through for her once again.

"No, Burke's off the case. Katie belongs to the new attending now, Dr. Shepherd," answered Bailey, and Mer couldn't help but feel relieved.

It came through. Thank you, big brother.

"He's over there," added the resident and pointed towards the lobby.

Nodding her head at Bailey in thanks, Mer took a few steps in the indicated direction, but what she saw made her stop dead in her tracks.

Oh God, this can not be happening.

For there, standing a few steps in front of her, wearing a white coat and speaking with a few other doctors, was Derek. Derek, of the 'tequila mistake'. Derek, from this morning.

Trying not to get spotted, she started to turn back the way she'd come, but it was too late. He had absently glanced her way, followed by a double-take at recognizing her.

She turned and left down the hallway, leaving him staring. Unfortunately, he followed and pulled her into the stairwell, taking a quick glance to make sure they were alone.

"Hey-" "Dr. Shepherd-," they started at the same time. Him with a smile and her with incredulity.

"Dr. Shepherd? This morning it was Derek. Now it's Dr. Shepherd?" he asked with a hint of something decidedly not professional.

"Dr. Shepherd," she countered strictly, "we should pretend it never happened."

"What never happened? You sleeping with me last night or you throwing me out this morning? Because both are fond memories I'd like to hold onto," Derek questioned with a gradually growing teasing smirk on his face.

Mer could feel her resolve starting to crumble under his magnetic charm, but she had to hold firm. "No. There will be no memories. I'm not the girl in the bar anymore, and you're not the guy. This can't exist. You get that, right?" Mer hoped to appeal to his rational side.

"You took advantage of me, and now you want to forget about it." That was definitely flirtation in his voice and naked interest in his eyes, the slender intern decided.

"I did not take -," Mer started to say as she finally took note of his teasing accusation. However, he chimed in before she could finish.

"I was drunk, vulnerable, and good-looking, and you took advantage," his flippant behavior and 'come hither' glances were starting to thaw out her determination.

"Okay, I was the one who was drunk, and you are not that good-looking," Mer countered playfully with a burgeoning smile on her face.

"Well, maybe not today. Last night, last night I was very good-looking. I had my red shirt on, my good-looking shirt, you took advantage," the attending said consideringly as he circled around to her other side.

"I did not take -"

"You want to take advantage again? Say Friday night?" Derek proposed, leaning closer to her until their faces were barely half a foot apart. The invitation all too clear in his heavy eyes.

"No. You're an attending. And I'm your intern," she continued adamantly, not sure anymore if she was trying to convince him or herself.

Noticing his eyes lowering to her lips and traveling down, she snapped, "Stop looking at me like that."

Flicking his eyes back up, he asked defensively, "Like what?"

"Like you've seen me naked."

Derek smirked.

"Dr. Shepherd! This is inappropriate. Has that ever occurred to you?"

Hoping she made her point, Mer walked back out into the hallway.

George's POV

George stood in the scrub room, getting ready for his first surgery. He'd been picked as the first intern out of their group to take part in a surgery. He racked his brain, trying to figure out why. Why him? He wasn't a natural talent like Meredith, whose mother was the Ellis Grey, he wasn't as smart as Cristina, who had graduated first in her class, and he didn't stand out like Izzie, who was sweet and gregarious. He was just George; socially awkward, still living at home with his family, passably good looking, and not that smart, George. He'd barely made it into Seattle Grace's Surgical Program by the skin of his teeth.

Which led back to the question, why him? He had his suspicions, it was because he'd annoyed Dr. Burke.

He wasn't ready for this, but he didn't really have a choice, did he? He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, highlighting his nervousness. It wrapped around him like a vice and squeezed until he couldn't breathe, but he wouldn't allow it this time.

You can do this, George. You might not be the smartest intern, but you graduated from medical school. You managed to make it into one of the best surgical programs in the country. You can do this.

With a final fortifying nod, he stepped in the OR, the scrub nurse moved forward to put his gloves on.

He knew his fellow interns were watching from the viewing gallery and that Dr. Burke would be there to assist, but somehow the thought of all those eyes focused entirely on him made his skin crawl. I really wish I was anywhere else but here.

As he looked around the room and saw the operating table; however, a realization hit him full force. This moment was everything he'd strived for. He could do this. I may not be like the others, but I made it just the same.

"Ready, O'Malley?" George turned to Dr. Burke and nodded hesitantly.

It's now or never.

"Let's see what you can do." Burke challenged, and George was pretty sure he was smirking behind his mask.

"Open, identify, ligate, irrigate, close," the intern muttered to himself, "Open, identify, ligate, irrigate, close."

Moving over to the patient's side, and taking a deep breath, George glanced up to the viewing gallery where the other interns sat watching and met Meredith's eyes. She nodded once, an almost imperceptible dip of her chin, and George looked back to the patient.

Let's do this.

"Scalpel."

"Scalpel." The nurse repeated and placed it into George's waiting hand. The interns whooped from the gallery until Burke silenced them with a sharp motion. George pressed the blade against the patient's abdomen, starting an incision.

"More pressure. Human flesh is a tough shell, dig in," advised Burke, his voice low and quiet in George's ear. Following Burke's advice, he asked for the pick-ups and then the clamp, each one handed to him by Bokhee, the surgical nurse.

"Metzenbaum," he said and quickly took the scissors held out towards him. "I'm there," George murmured, more to himself than anyone else. I've reached the peritoneum, now to remove the appendix...

"Scalpel. Appendix is out." The intern removed the vestigial organ and tossed it into the tray to the cheers of the others.

"Not bad!" Burke seems surprised, but George tried not to let it eat at him too much. I know I'm not as good as the others, but I did this. Not them.

"Thank you," he says quietly as he searched for the purse-strings.

Burke takes a step closer to George and studies the field of view. "Now, all you have to do is invert the stump into the cecum and simultaneously pull up on the purse-strings but be careful not to-" George faltered as he ripped them, "-break them."

"He ripped the cecum. Got a bleeder," the attending announced to the room in light of the complication.

"You're filling with stool, what do you do now?" The surgeon questioned George.

"Uh...uh…," George faltered as his mind blanked, leaving him helpless.

"Think! You start the suction, and you start digging for those purse-strings before she bleeds to death. Bokhee, give him a clamp," Burke stated, his tone exasperated as if he would rather be anywhere else.

"BP's dropping," called out one of the nurses, ratcheting George's nerves up another level. The intern tried to follow the Attending's directive, but his motor faculties refused to follow along.

"Today, O'Malley," Burke pressured, "Pull your balls out of your back pocket, let's go. What are you waiting for…, suction," the senior surgeon demanded, having given up on the unresponsive intern.

The vital station started to beep rapidly, pushing the monitoring nurse to yell, "Getting too low folks... …"

Finally, having had enough of waiting, he forced George out of the way with a shove to the ribs. "Get out of the way. Pansy-ass idiot. Get him out of here. Suction. Clamp."

George just stood there to the side, his humiliation complete. His incompetency witnessed by his peers.

Once again, he wished he was anywhere else but here.

Meredith's POV

Mer felt as if her mind was submerged in water. She walked away from Katy's room, the event repeating itself in front of her eyes, clouding her vision. She could hear people calling out to her, but all she could hear was the beat of her heart. Her hands trembled, and her body felt clammy.

She'd almost let her patient die.

She ran out into the cold air and pouring rain, Cristina's voice making it through her mental haze, and tried to force down the bile clawing up her throat. She barely made it to a tree before her stomach contracted violently and chunky, briny sick spewed out of her mouth.

She braced herself against the tree, trying to push away her panic. She couldn't let it happen right now. She needed to get away.

I need Harry. She pushed away from the tree, the words logged in her mind like a mantra, keeping her grounded until she could get to him. He would make it okay.

She saw Cristina standing there with a concerned expression. Feeling exposed, Mer muttered threateningly, "If you tell anyone, ever…", but trailed off as she walked back into the hospital.

Taking out her phone, she sent a text to the man who had been a friend, mentor, father, brother, but most importantly, a safe haven to her since she was sixteen.

The text was a simple bat emoji, but he would understand. It was their little signal.

His response arrived in less than three seconds, 'Level 2, Room 207'.

CHAPTER END

7613 Words, Updated Feb. 8, 2020

AN: Review and let me know what do you think so far? Like it, hate it, enjoying the different POVs?