reunion over maladies [Darla]

          The typical afternoon chaos of the lobby barrages her senses as her aching joints reluctantly carried her to the elevator. The doors brushed her shoulder of her plaid jacket as they closed, trapping her in with a grim, red eyed middle age witch whom continuously twisting a handkerchief standing off from a hunch back old wizard with a large toad stool sprouting for the crest of his robes. The young blonde witch took the empty spot between them.  The wizard tilted his head grazing a putrid looking cap and asked her which floor. Lesleigh watched as the fungi in protest of the disturbance released an orange powder, which settled on the old man’s balding crown. She made a show of scratching her nose as an excuse of covering her mouth with her sleeve, while answering “Second floor,” and then taking a small step back.  If they old man was offended, he did not show it. He gave a warm smile, answering “Ah, very good,” before he turned back and used a crooked shaking finger to selected the button.

         If Lesleigh had to go to St Mungo's for  bi-weekly treatments of her liver condition (since she could remember,) she would have problem and likely plastered herself on the wall or got off at the next floor. Over the years the regular view of grotesque maladies wizard seem to find themselves with, has left her jaded.  Still she was glad she did not stick with the idea of being a healer.  She had gotten her fill of gore, and death over the years. It was only a minute later that Lesleigh was able to take a grateful breath of spore free air as she stumbled out to her Magical Bug floor. “ ‘ave a good day, Miss” presently rang out from behind her.

            Les turned to give a quick, “Uh..Thanks, you too.” As the door closed, Les spotted a few new bumps on the old man’s head. Les scratch a sympathetic scalp itch with her stiff fingers before turned back to the floors front desk. The moment the healer looked up the blonde teenager, Les recited her usual statement, “Lesleigh Ollivander. I have an appointment for my regular treatment.”

            She let the healer check she schedule and watch her give a frown and turn a page back on a clipboard. Les know she was late, but it was typical for her to be at least 15 minutes, well today was more like 30 well now 35 minutes late. Still they should expect it and adjust the schedule accordingly. Les scanned the room as she tried to gage if there would be many in a queue in front of her. The few patrons waiting included a small fussy boy covered with purple belches and his doting mother and a lone portly wizard berried in this morning’s Daily Prophet. A small image of Charlie Banker on the entertainment section caught her eye. The healer was half way though talking when Les noticed she was being addressed. “…out to lunch. I will check if anyone else is available. Please have a seat.”

          “Yeah, okay.” Lesleigh replied quickly and set out to quench her curiosity. Just before she was about to ask if she could barrow the page in question, when heard her name. Les turned to find a familiar face surrounded by blonde hair. "Dar..la? @Darla Boyd ! Oh, it is so good to see you!" Les gave a quick hug to her old Hogwarts friend.

Marmaduke MacFarland and Milton Malone, two of St. Mungo’s most prestigious Head Healers, apparently had an on-going fight. Marmaduke and Milton had attended a quidditch game together and had bet on different teams, the result being in one of them losing a generous amount of galleons; nobody know who won and who lost, but everyone was aware that the two healers refused to talk to one another for almost three weeks now.

It had made regular healers’ lives chaotic enough; cooperation between the Magical Bugs and Diseases Ward and the Paediatrics and Maternity one was essential. In the end, the two even refused to even write to one another, resulting in the sending of actual healers to deliver messages and be yelled at by both Head Healers. It wasn’t something Darla was particularly keen of, and so far the healers from the Paediatrics Ward had been assigned to the task through playing rock-paper-scissors. Darla’d won so far, however today was the first time she’d lost. And, of course, the punishment for losing implied being the messenger between the two Head Healers.

It was the eighth time today she was visiting the Magical Bugs and Diseases Ward, and Darla felt like she was losing her mind. Marmaduke yelled at her, then Milton offered her a position in his Ward, then Marmaduke promised her a raise, then Milton started saying how he thought Darla would make a great daughter-in-law. This was ridiculous. After half an hour of refusing Milton’s offer of becoming part of his family, Darla managed to escape the older wizard’s office. She took a deep breath as she closed the door behind her, wondering with what she’d wronged the world for this to happen. The former Gryffindor did nothing but hope that Marmaduke and Milton would make up already.

The witch passed by the reception, deciding to tell the nurse there that she would be going out for lunch, so both Marmaduke and Milton would be deprived of a messenger. However, upon reaching the common area, Darla’s eyes fell on a familiar figure. “Lesleigh Ollivander!” She said on a cheerful tone, immediately though realising that there was really nothing to be joyful about; in the end, she’d rather meet friends outside her workplace, which was only bad news should she see someone familiar there.

Leslegih was diplomatic enough though to react to her cheerfulness with kindness, offering her a hug, which Darla immediately reciprocated. “I would like to say the same, but what are you doing here?” She inquired, immediately letting her work habits take over her, and gently placing her hand on Lesleigh’s chin, carefully analysing her complexion. “Is there anything in particular bringing you to the Magical Bugs and Diseases Ward, or just a check-up?” She asked, perhaps a bit too professionally; however, how could Darla even be blamed. In the end, seeing her friends at St. Mungo’s was generally not good news.

          Les waved her hand in a dismissing motion. “Oh, it is practically a checkup.” Then she realized her friends might not remember that she has a medical condition. Les had barley seen Darla since she graduated. Les glanced down for a second with a secret smile. She almost enjoyed the fact her friend forgot. It was like,… she was normal. She debated about not telling her playing it off as a checkup. Still, what if Darla was her healer or asked a coworker about her later today? Les thought it was better that she reminds Darla. It was not like she was ashamed of her condition. She looked back up at her friend. “You know that wired blood condition, that I had since I was four. They just have to treat my liver and my joints every week or so.”

          “What about you?” She said to change the subject. Les sat down in an empty seat, using her arms to help her lower herself down into the chair. She tried to hide the fact her knees were a little stiff. Her body always was stiff when she waited a while between treatments. “What is going on with you? Do you like working here?”

          “I almost decided to be a healer….” She admitted and then screwed up her face. “But it was just too gross, at least for me.” She amended not wanting to offend her.  Then under her breath she added “I just saw an old man in the elevator that had mushrooms growing on his head and back.” Les let out a shutter imagining what would have to be don’t to remove them.

          “Do you still hang around with anyone from school?” Les had her father’s excellent memory and so it was easy to pull out the names of the past. “Like Edith Holthouse and…” remembering they way her friend acted with a particular Hufflepuff boy. “Did you ever hook up with Arawn Davies?”

Darla smiled and retrieved her hand from Lesleigh’s chin as soon as the other witch mentioned it was just a routine check-up. She was glad it was nothing serious. Despite not having seen this certain friend of hers ever since her time at Hogwarts, her worries were all the same. “Oh.” Darla remarked, eyes widening slightly, upon hearing the younger witch mentioned a certain blood condition. She’d heard something about it during their common years at Hogwarts, however Darla assumed it was nothing too serious. Now, that she’d studied healing herself, she could understand why Lesleigh was so closely monitored. “I understand.” She nodded in approval once, a shy smile appearing on her face. “Well, it should be fine, if you’re taking your potions constantly.” Darla reassured the other witch, fully aware that St. Mungo’s healers were naturally doing their best in helping Lesleigh and therefore so should she.

“Me?” The Scottish let out a laugh upon taking a seat next to Lesleigh, as she was waiting for her appointment’s time to arrive. “I’m fine, thank you.” The healer commented, deciding to put aside the Marmaduke MacFarland and Milton Malone conflict. It was only for St. Mungo’s employees in the end, for outsides should definitely not be aware of the child-like tendencies of their Head Healers. These periods were rarer than often, and it generally happened during the quidditch season, so of course that professionalism wasn’t affected. They were great healers, bets aside. And naturally, good friends. “It’s the job that I always wanted, so yes, I do enjoy it quite a bit.” Darla nodded once more, her warm smile widening.

“What about you?” Well, it was obvious she didn’t go into wandmaking. “I recall you liked music a lot, did you pursue a career in the arts?” The healer could only hope she was smooth enough to make the transition easier for the other girl. Lesleigh went on and commented that she didn’t have the stomach to seriously consider a career in healing, at which Darla bit her lower lip, amused. “Well, accidents happen and that’s why we are here for everyone and anyone who needs it. It takes a lot to adjust to, but to us, this is all normal. I doubt any healer here would find what you mentioned repugnant; just… the regular.” Of course, Darla didn’t want to point out that healing was naturally for the best of the best, even in the medical field.

Lesleigh’s following questions caught Darla off-guard. She hadn’t expected the other witch to remember Edith, or Arawn. Darla’s cheeks flushed instantly at the mention of the dragonologist, mostly embarrassed that Lesleigh asked such a blunt question rather than anything else. The healer cleared her throat, and casually glanced around, to make sure no nurse had overheard the other witch. “Edith is fine.” Jobless? Trying her luck with writing? “She’s a freelance investigative journalist.” Well, she wasn’t technically lying. “And I haven’t seen Arawn ever since he graduated.” Darla blatantly lied, however the healer saw no reason as of why she should share anything about the former Hufflepuff with Lesleigh. She was over him, once and forever, and he needn’t be remembered to her. “I heard he’s in Romania now.” Hopefully being eaten by dragons at brunch.

“But enough about me. How is your family? Did they come with you here today or are you alone?” Darla looked around once more, just to be sure she hadn’t passed by Mr. Ollivander without greeting him.

       There it is. She remembers. Why are people always happier when they are under the assumption you are a perfectly healthy witch? She asked herself. Lesleigh felt a little more cynical then normal. It was probably do to her pain levels.

       When people found out you are ill, it was natural for them to get sad or a little depressed, for you. It gets annoying. It was almost always the ill persons job to cheer them up, get their mind off the subject and move on to more joyful matters. ‘Laugh and be well earlier.’ Her mother’s common saying ran through her head. Les know it was just as much needed for other people as it was for her. Les put on her smile and was about to change the subject when Darla mentioned her potions. Her smile froze, border lining on a grimace.

       Her potion could only be described as a combinations of turned nettle tea, kitchen sewer sludge and merlin-knows-what mixture.  They keep giving them to her and she tries to drink it, although never regularly. On average she drinks about half the required dose, but she was not about to tell either her doctor nor her friend that. So, she just nodded, straighten her smile and change the subject…   

       Lesleigh always felt better when people were laughing and enjoying themselves. That was the point in life, right? Still she did not know how Darla enjoyed working at St. Mungos ‘quite a bit.’ Les took a look around the waiting room thinking she was missing some giant assorted bowl of huneydukes candies or an awesome new Banshee song blasting in the back room.

      She looked back when Darla asked her the next question. With aloud joyful response she stated,"The answer would be yes, if a 'career in the arts' means playing random gigs at coffee shops and singing karaoke drunk and calling it practicing." Les gave out a laugh before giving her a more sober reply, “No, nothing that pays yet. I am still waiting to be "discovered".” Quoting the last word with her fingers like it was the latest mystical beast on the the cover of the Quibbler. She wasn’t going to tell her classmate that she halfway given up.

       “Right now, I am looking for a… day job. Oh, I did not tell you!" She clapped her hands and bounced with excitement on her chair.  "Tomorrow, I am porting down to Paris, to check into some job opportunities."  Les was going to say ‘and to see what I can find,’ but stopped herself. Instead she finished with "I been looking into some positions within the fashion industry. Cool ah?”

...

       According to Darla's blush, Lesleigh must had hit on something juicy! She leaned forward on the hard waiting room chair waiting for Darla to share.  'Edith.. fine....freelance 'investigative' journalist.' Lesleigh nodded and gave out the popor answers, "Oh, good. Nice!" Les was not sure what was the difference between an investigative journalist, compared to a normal journalist... The blonde imagined they might be like a private detective, who investigating stories or crimes and selling the articles on them to the highest bidding publisher. ALthough, Lesleigh was NOT going to interrupt Darla and ask. She knew the juicy part was always left for last and waited patiently for Darla to spill.

       'And I haven’t seen Arawn....I heard he’s in Romania now.' then nothing. Well, that was anticlimactic. Darla really needs to get better at sharing gossip. Les through leaning slightly back, the disappoint was clear on her face. There was a small twinge, that something did not add up but Lesleigh got pulled into the next round of Darla's questions.

        By 'family' people usually mean her father. He was the one that everyone knows and after being kidnap, (although it was almost four years ago) most people ask her those types of questions because they want to know that he is recovered and is back to making wands. Lesleigh was about to give her standard reply when Darla went on and asked if her family was there. Lesleigh's temper flared a little as it struck an old cord. "No. Sorry they are not here. I have not been escorted to my healer appointment by my parents since I was a kid."

          After she graduated, she told her mum she was an adult witch and she knew the way to St. Mungos, so she did not need anyone to go with her. But it never really sunk in. Even this morning, her mum asked about going again. When will she ever start treating me like a adult! Gah.

          Something about Darla's look snapped her out of her whirlwind of thoughts. She gave a wave of her hand, batting her frustrations away as if they were annoying pixies buzzing around her head. "Oh. Sorry old issues. Anyways... um no. But my Dad is good and so is the rest of the family. My brother is pulling his weight with the wand shop now, it helps out a lot."

           In a nervous gesture, the blonde closes her eyes while biting her lip, before looking back at Darla.  "Honestly, I need to get out of my parents house. My mum is such a... a... well mum. Do you know what I mean? Well, I guess I need to get a job first. You know how it is." A thought occurred to her. "Darla, where are you living now? You can't be still living in Scotland. Stornoway wasn't it?"