do you still know me [hayden]

Alex was no stranger to the maternity ward at St. Mungo’s. It was very different than the first floor which he’d grown to loathe, painted in soft yellowy-cream with comfortable chairs and colorful flower arrangements. A welcoming place. Still he felt odd, though, as a man here alone. He uncrossed his legs and crossed them the other way, glancing up again toward the door, then toward the copy of Witch Weekly on the waiting room table. Maybe five more minutes, and then he’d give up and give it a read through.

He was here only because Puddlemere United was out of the country. Oliver Wood was not doing a half bad job at responsible pre-fatherhood. Part of Alex disliked him for it. Irrationally, uncomfortably, and shamefully, but it was what it was. He’d been drinking, of course, the night Quinn found out about the pregnancy, when he’d suggested he move in and do this with her, and he probably wouldn’t have said it non-jokingly otherwise. But he’d have wanted it. Their attachment to each other had always been so much stronger than their attachments to others. In some small way he felt like this child should be his. He knew it was stupid and probably weird to feel. Backup moral support for appointments was more the sort of job he should be expecting.

Quinn was busy these days, understandably, so Alex would forgive her for running late. He had been a little early himself, as usual. He should have brought a book, probably, but he hadn’t, so he was people-watching as healers and patients swished past. And then he recognized someone. He was familiar with many of the staff at St. Mungo’s, but it had been some time since he had seen the healer who passed him. So much time and confusion that it felt like another age, when he was starting out as an auror and as an adult. Often Alex avoided familiar faces when he ran into them in public. But the ones who had made a positive impact on him he could never resist reaching out to.

He leaned over the arm of his seat after Hayden and called just loudly enough, “Excuse me, Healer?”

@Hayden Lawrence

To say Hayden missed St. Mungo's was an understatement. Hayden had practically lived there for half of his medical career. Outside of his own cosy little apartment in Bloomsbury, St. Mungo's was his home away from home. Greece had tried to give it a run for it's money, with all of their ancient arts, but in the end he'd needed the hustle and bustle of the Healers in pale green, moving about with their patients or chatting away with each other. He'd yearned for the excitement of solving medical mysteries just as much as the bedside care he'd managed to perfect during training.

So was his first day back a smooth and easy transition? Not really. Sure, there were old faces who clapped him on the back and ruffled his hair, remembering the good old days of Before the War. But there were also patients in dire need of potions and ingredients that needed to be reordered. Hayden spent the last three hours teaching new trainees how to restock properly while keeping an eye on his new patient list and he loved every minute of it.

It was only later that he'd managed to sneak off into the maternity ward. His old stomping ground was now the base of his private medical studies. He considered himself lucky the hospital had allowed him to document and chart some of the mothers and newborns for his own research into the relationship between magic and genetics. (It wasn't luck, of course, but Hayden would never admit to his own hard work being the reason, even if he had a silver potioneers badge to prove it).

He had been walking through said maternity ward with his head in a file, twirling a quill between his fingers, when he heard his name. He promptly looked up and found the source: a man sitting by himself with features that looked vaguely familiar. His brow furrowed as his brain worked to place the name to the face but a slow smile emerged as it dawned on him exactly who that man was. "If it isn't Alex."

His eyes crinkled with mirth as he made his way over to him, memories filling his head. While the days they'd worked together had been bleak and jarring, the fondness Hayden felt was anything but. He couldn't imagine coming to age at the Dark Lord fell and he never would. Some would say Alex hadn't faired well at all. Those people would be dead wrong. In Hayden's eyes, he did the very best he could under so much pressure.

But that was neither here nor there. Now, Alex was here and whole and healthy. His eyes glanced to Alex's leg and a twinge of worry shot into his heart. But he quickly averted his eyes back up to Alex's eyes while offering his hand.  "It's so good to see you." And he meant it, he really did. However, it didn't negate that this was the single strangest ward for him to see his old friend in. "But what are you doing here? Unless, are you-" His eyes widened. "Are you expecting?"

(( @Alex Regan ))

It occurred to him only after he’d spoken that Hayden might not remember who he was. Alex raised his eyebrows hopefully as the other man looked to him in confusion. He fancied himself a memorable person. But comfort often meant more to the comforted, or at least he imagined that it did. It was part of the reason he liked to lend a hand whenever he could. Kindness could impact a person’s life as much as violence, and Alex liked the idea of being meaningful.

Recognition finally started to bloom on Hayden’s face after an agonizing second. Alex smiled cheerfully. “That it is!” As he leaned forward, though, he caught Hayden’s eyes darting for a moment to his leg.

He was frustrated, almost. Who told you? He couldn’t imagine the subject coming up with any of the hospital staff. Nor was he a fixture in the general London rumor mill, at least to his knowledge. Alex then recalled Hayden being friends with Jon Emerson. His lips tightened a little. Some minor sense of violation continued to bother him even though he understood. He wouldn’t begrudge anyone the right to talk about their trauma, even if he played a part in the story.

Careful to appear as if he hadn’t noticed, he enthusiastically shook Hayden’s outstretched hand. And then he was asked what he supposed was the obvious question. “Oh, yeah, seriously expecting.” Alex cracked a grin and stretched out back in his chair, resting a hand on his stomach. Hayden looked genuinely concerned, bless him. “Nah—expecting my sister. It’s her appointment.” He glanced again toward the door. No sign of Quinn, and no reason to wrap things up yet. “What about you, though?” he asked. “So where’ve you been?