everybody's pickin' up on that feline beat [Montse]

It all started with a ball of wool.

Just a misplaced thing that Molly had left behind after her last visit. Fleur took it to be a pointed hint at her own lack of knitting. Did Molly not realise there were shops for clothes? So she had left the red yarn discarded in the corner of the living room, ready to hand back next time Molly came over with a remark about how forgetful the Weasley matriarch was getting. Fleur and Molly got on better than when they had first met, but they would never be close.

So when Victoire had taken an interest in it, Fleur had simply brushed it aside. Sure, it was unusual that her daughter wasn’t playing with her stuffed dragon, but as Fleur would be quite happy for an ‘accident’ to occur to all Common Welsh Greens, stuffed or otherwise, she did not see it as cause for concern. Plus, Victoire was a toddler. She had once entertained herself for a whole week with a cardboard box (ignoring the dolls house that came inside). She took childish delight in the simplest of things.

And when Victoire became distracted by the wool, she was quiet. And she happily jumped around after the ball on the floor, obsessively trying to catch the end, as Fleur was able to nap on the sofa, only feeling slightly guilty when she woke up hours later.

Then came the purring.

Again, Victoire was a toddler. Last month she had decided that her life’s ambition was to be a cow and spent a day only moo-ing at people. So, becoming a cat was not out of the realms of possibility. But when she woke up Fleur in the middle of the night with harsh miaowing, she began to worry. Even sleep deprived and uncomfortable, Fleur knew something wasn’t right. But she didn’t know what. So instead all she could do was soothe Victoire back to sleep and ended up dozing off half-on the small bed and waking up in the morning with an unbearable pain in her lower back.

It was not labour, just a stupid sleeping position.

And Victoire greeted her with a smile and hug, so it was worth it.

She did try demand sardines for breakfast… and Fleur was sure none of the parenting books she had ever read said anything about the terrible twos resulting in a preference for smelly fish. But as Fleur was incapable of being around fish at the moment without vomiting, Victoire had to settle for an extra glass of milk instead. Fleur briefly noted on her way to do the washing that she was lapping it up with her tongue, but, children, right?

The fever came next.

Just as Fleur had lowed herself down onto the sofa, and had opened the Prophet, that was actually from several days ago but she was busy, Victoire had wandered into the room, visibly red. Fleur was very proud of the fact that her daughter took after her. Her husband was very handsome, but she thought blonde hair looked better on girls. And Victoire was beautifully pale and blonde. She was not pale anymore though. Flushed and hot to the touch, Fleur had just gathered her beloved baby into her arms to comfort her pitiful ‘mews’ when her eyes caught a small article in the discarded newspaper.

BLACK CAT FLU OUTBREAK

Pregnancy was very much affecting her brain, she should have spotted it days ago! And her precious daughter was so little and fragile. The desperation motivated Fleur off the couch and towards the fireplace.

“St. Mungo’s!” Fleur yelled, as clearly in English as she could manage, as she stepped in, Victoire in arms. The spinning barely even registered. She already felt as sick as she could, motion was not going to make it worse. Fleur crashed inelegantly out of the fireplace, spilling into the London hospital’s reception and barely pausing before waddling across to the lifts. She was a frequent visitor here these days, what with regular maternity and paediatric check ups. And Fleur was not the type to wait at reception when her daughter had caught a dangerous illness!

It was in the lift that Fleur had her first second to pause and notice that she was wearing her fluffy slippers and her hair was in a messy knot from where she had tied it back to hang out laundry earlier. It was a horrific shock to be out in public looking like a mad woman but the doors opened on the fifth floor before Fleur could do anything about it. A glamour spell only took seconds but who knew how much time Victoire had!

She operated on autopilot to get into the paediatric ward, her free hand stroking Victoire’s hair comfortingly as she moved. Barely sparing a second to look at anyone around her, Fleur strode up to the ward desk to announce her presence. She didn’t know if anyone was already in line, she didn’t know if the staff were busy. She didn’t care. Her daughter was going to get seen immediately, and if being Fleur’s daughter wasn’t enough for that to happen then she was more than prepared to name drop to ensure treatment. She was basically Harry Potter’s sister-in-law (when was he going to eventually propose?) after all…

“Ma fille!” She announced, her French highly distressed and high pitched. “Elle est malade! Victoire a besoin d’aide!” Vaguely noting the blank faces, her tired brain supplied her that this was London, not Paris. The British were sooooo… behind on their languages. With a look of disdain on her face for the abilities of these people, Fleur tried again. “My daughter has the cat flu! Do something!”

@Montserrat Fábregas

A few months into her new job as an official Healer at St. Mungo’s and Montserrat was starting to feel the strain of the job, her shoulders had grown unforgivingly tense and she had been losing much needed sleep over the additional studying she had dedicated herself to in order to read up on all the information she might have missed at Dilly’s. Montserrat was slowly beginning to realize that no matter how diligently she had studied or how hard she had tried in all of her assignments, nothing could have quite prepared her for the difficulties of the job. Unlike her days under Healer Fletcher, Montserrat realized that there were many decisions she had to make on her own, decisions that could determine the recovery or livelihood of another human being.

Such things had not quite registered as easily as they had in the last few months. It was a heavy responsibility to bear but also one that made her work that much more meaningful. Therefore, rather than settle into the way of things, Montserrat sought answers and asked questions whenever possible, looking up to her colleagues as the experts in the field and herself as someone who was still learning the ropes of her career. Her mother had always advised her to be humble and to always see an experience as an opportunity to learn something new, no matter how embarrassing or difficult such experience was.

Things were smooth sailing for a while, of course people still came in with emergencies at all times of the year but for a period of time, the fifth floor had been consumed with expecting families, births, and minor things, many of which left her feeling very good about the beginnings of life and the wonders of the female body. Nevertheless as the months became colder, Montserrat noticed the start of children coming in with colds and expecting mothers terrified that a sniffle or a cough or a sore throat meant the worst for the baby in their bellies. And then it suddenly happened. One afternoon, a meowing child came in and all hell broke loose then before she knew it, Montserrat was rushing from room to room in order to see the many cat-like children that had gathered in the waiting rooms.

The last time Montserrat had heard about Black Cat Flu was in a case study from 1996, where an outbreak had occurred in early January in Britain. She could not remember if there had been any casualties, but she assumed that a few lost their lives as it was common when such epidemics took over. Of course, it was the question that every mother came in asking, fearing that a new rise in symptoms meant something absolutely terrible for their children. Some symptoms were more advanced than others, some children were younger. Thanks to her consensimency, Montserrat was able to not only empathize with the children but find some facts on the pain that some of the children were incapable of giving themselves. Montserrat wondered if her skill would come in handy were she ever to have children or whether it would be an impediment to her common sense. Even if something like influenza felt trivial to the public, it was difficult for Montserrat to see parents and children in this way.

“I am happy to report that this is your run of the mill cold and not black cat flu however as it is highly contagious, I recommend that you keep an eye out for some of these symptoms,” Montserrat said as she entered the room, smiling as she noticed the relieved expression on the faces of the parents and the little girl. She handed them a piece of parchment with a prescription for the apothecary as well as a list of symptoms related to the outbreak. If they were lucky, they would avoid this and everything would return to normal in a couple of weeks. Excusing herself, she moved back into the hallway, high-pitched French grabbing her attention.

Composing herself and making sure to stay calm, Montserrat made her way over to the front desk, the woman was no stranger to any of them, she had been there before. With the child in her arms looking a little flush, Montserrat could only assume that she was here because of the epidemic as well. Smiling in the direction of the information desk, she walked over to her. “Hello, I am Healer Fábregas but please call me Montse,” she started, moving closer to the little girl and smiling down at her. “And what’s your name, little one?” she asked, easing into French with no issue. “If you come back here, I will be happy to take a look at your little girl and see if we cannot get her better in no time,” she said.

“And of course, make sure the other little one is in no danger as well,” she added, moving in the direction of the next available space, “Has your daughter been here before? We can look for her information and have her registered so that I can take a look at her chart,” she started before reaching out to press a hand against the little girl’s head. She was hot and obviously in a lot of discomfort, Montserrat’s expression fell momentarily as the touch affected her own condition.

“How long do you suspect she’s been ill?” she asked, continuing in French as she assumed the woman felt most comfortable speaking the language.

The Healer spoke French! And not, Fleur vaguely noted, through butchering her beloved language with an English accent. A fellow non-Brit was almost enough to put Fleur slightly at ease. Her daughter could be assured of a competent witch as her healer, even if Healer Fábregas looked barely out of school. As it was, the put-together professional was really making Fleur aware of her own lack of sophistication in her appearance. Her hair wasn’t even brushed for Merlin’s sakes!

Victoire only let out a pitiful meow in response to Montse’s friendly question, and Fleur winced on behalf of her daughter. She must be in so much pain and Fleur hadn’t even noticed! “Victoire Theresa Weasley.” She answered the healer, since her daughter was clearly unable to. “Her birth date is the 2nd May 2000, and we live at Shell Cottage, Tinworth, Cornwall.” The information came off quickly, Fleur was used to having to confirm details every time they came to St. Mungo’s for appointments. It would hopefully speed things along if she just blurted out all her personal details straight away.

She gratefully followed Montse into the nearest cubicle, the rush of adrenaline that had got Fleur to St. Mungo’s in the first place beginning to fade. Her daughter was heavy, and it was hard to hold her close when there was a massive baby bump in the way. “Thank you.” Fleur said exhaustedly, as she tiredly collapsed onto the seat offered. It wasn’t very comfortable, and it hurt her hips to sit on something hard, but it was better than standing for any longer.

Fleur manoeuvred a mewling Victoire in her arms so that the healer could examine her better. Her daughter was clearly looking for comfort but pressing her face into Fleur’s neck wasn’t going to make her better. She may have not pursued medical studies beyond NEWT level, but Fleur knew that much. “Yes, she has had all her paediatric appointments here, but I gave birth at Hogwarts. Victoire’s usual healer is Darla Boyd if that helps.” It was a blessed relief to communicate in French. Having to translate everything mentally before speaking may have been too much for Fleur’s tired brain at that moment in time.

Watching the healer closely as she examined Victoire, Fleur did not miss her change in facial expression. Oh Merlin, it was clearly worse than she had realised. She was a terrible mother. Her daughter was in pain and ill and all Fleur had done was sleep! And she hadn’t even flooed Bill to tell him where she was. When he came home for lunch he was going to be so worried. She knew she should send a patronus, but honestly, Fleur didn’t think she was emotionally able to cast one at the current moment of time.

“She, she started acting a bit like a cat four days ago but I, I just thought she was playing.” Fleur began to explain, trying to justify her parenting. “She’s a toddler, acting like an animal is one of her favourite things to do!” She paused to take a breath, aware that all her words were running together in her rush. “Vic started coughing like this two days ago but it only got really bad last night. Her fever only developed this morning and I came straight here.”

Fleur let out an exasperated sigh at her own actions, “I only saw the article on Black Cat Flu this morning. Otherwise I would have probably thought it was just a bad cold. I didn’t even connect her behaviour to being ill until I saw that!” She was disgustedly unimpressed with herself for not knowing that. She used to thrive on knowledge, and nowadays Fleur couldn’t even read a newspaper on the right day! “Is it really bad?” She croaked out, her own voice catching in her throat with her worry.

Montserrat internally winced at the little girl’s response, a meow that sounded just as miserable as the Healer had assumed she was, paired with the insight given by her ability, the young witch was certain that the poor girl needed relief fast. “Victoire, what a beautiful name,” she commented, smiling down at the child before she looked at the woman, nodding as she repeated the information to the woman at the front desk. After a few moments, the Healer was entrusted with the patient’s file where she looked over the information once again to make sure that everything matched. The ladies at the front desk were kind and rather resourceful, but at times like these when patients were in and out, they easily made mistakes. It was not a big deal, Montserrat figured, as everyone made mistakes, but with a mother and a sick child, it was best to be as efficient as possible.

“Yes, thank you, Healer Boyd is an excellent pediatrician, in fact, she helped with my training,” she said reassuringly, hoping that it would somehow offer comfort to know that she had been trained by someone she was familiar with, to ensure that she knew that Montserrat was not wholly inexperienced. Unfortunately, Healer Boyd had left St. Mungo’s, but that wasn’t the information that the woman probably needed to hear at that moment. There was too much going on already, and more bad news would make the situation worse.  Though most of the patients that Montserrat saw were rather kind and civil, she knew that many parents were not familiar with her face just yet, after all, she just joined a few months prior. Montserrat could not remember ever wondering if a Healer was particularly competent or new or unfamiliar, but she supposed that motherhood changed things like that. Having to care for another person was not the same as caring for yourself, after all.  The Healer wondered how she might act when she had children of her own.

Montserrat smiled, taking the little girl’s temperature before checking her ears gently, “Say Ahh—for me sweetie,” she continued, her fingers pressing gently against Victoire’s lymph nodes. They were a little inflamed, she decided, as she checked for any other signs or symptoms apart from those visible to her. As the little girl was visibly ill, touching her directly only made Montserrat feel a little sick as well. A soreness began to spread across her neck, followed by a pin-pricking feeling down her spine. While this ability allowed her to see a little into the little girl’s symptoms, it did not manifest in the same way. All she could determine was that the little girl was in pain and with a bit more concentration, Montserrat might have pinpointed what hurt the most at that moment. Since all of the symptoms were evident, there was no need for her to hone in on the site of the pain.

The Healer listened sympathetically, “Yes, of course, she is at that age when all the little ones start to imitate animals and the like, that’s a great sign of development,” she added, hoping that Mrs. Weasley was not under the impression that Montserrat was in any way blaming her or looking down on her for her daughter’s illness. “Please don’t worry, everything will be alright, I will do my best to make sure Victoire is feeling well again in no time,” she said as reassuringly and sincerely as she could. “There is an epidemic, that is true, but normally those most affected by the illness are the elderly and infant children that have not yet developed their immune systems, and even then, with the advancement of wizarding medicine, things aren’t like they used to be,” she continued, checking the little girl’s hands and then her feet for any signs of a deviation of the common symptoms associated with Black Cat Flu. “I see that you’re expecting another little one, congratulations!” she chirped, “How’s the pregnancy going so far?” she wondered.

Montserrat did not wish to alarm Mrs. Weasley, but she needed to make sure that the woman did not catch the illness herself for the sake of the baby. The Healer would need to seek to advise on the effects of Black Cat Flu on an unborn baby, but typically, as pregnant women were often not allowed to take most medicinal potions, it was best to make sure that everything was taken care of just in case. “Have you personally been experiencing any symptoms at all? Even the slightest trouble?”

Fleur watched closely as Healer Fábregas examined her beloved daughter. Not that Fleur thought she was going to do her any harm, just that poor Victoire was in so much pain and distress already, she didn’t need a well intentioned, but inexperienced healer to make it worse. Although Darla had also been young, and she hadn’t attended Beauxbatons either, so maybe Fleur should try to be more trusting of Healer Fábregas. Eager to distract herself from watching her daughter getting prodded, and also to confirm the Healer’s background, Fleur asked quickly. “Did you go to Beauxbatons? Professor Nonna would be proud to see Beauxbatons graduates with jobs all round the world.”

Fleur may have affectionately called the Medical Studies professor Nonna, but she still held a grudge at Professor Bellatoni for not appreciating how clever she was. Apparently there was more to medical studies than getting the answer right. These days Fleur could appreciate the wisdom of the Professor, but she still couldn’t quite admit she was right. Fleur would have been an excellent healer if she actually cared about helping people. And, well, she was working on caring about everyone and not just those she liked.

But, then again, being around sick people all the time sounded terrible! Fleur could barely handle one day of Victoire being ill. And she certainly didn’t want to clean up anyone else’s vomit.

With the examination complete, Fleur hugged Victoire back close to her, finally allowing her to bury her face in her neck. And honestly, the distinctive smell from Victoire’s hair comforted Fleur too. She knew that Black Cat Flu mainly affected the elderly and young, but that was what Victoire was. She was so little, so delicate and precious. She had to get better. “What do you need to do to her?” Fleur asked cautiously, having ignored Montse’s kind reassurances about Fleur having been a terrible mother and having not noticed her daughter’s illness.

“Is there spells or potions that will make her better?” It was so close to Christmas and Fleur didn’t want to let go of her baby. “Will, will she need to stay here?” Quarantine was the most unbearable option and Fleur could barely think of the possibility. Leaving her beloved daughter alone in this unfamiliar place. She would never do that. Fleur would sneak back in if she needed to and hex anyone that disagreed. Although, with her current body, sneaking would be pretty difficult.

Pregnancy?

This was about her original baby, not her new baby. But the Healer had asked a question and Fleur was quick to answer so they could return to the subject at hand. “I have bad heartburn and I need to pee all the time,” she shrugged quickly. It was annoying, sure, but it was also normal. And it definitely didn’t even rate on the scale compared to what poor Victoire was going through.

“Emmmm… me?” Fleur asked stunned, suddenly unable to think of anything about herself. Sure, she could recite all of Victoire’s details verbatim but she was struggling to even remember her own birthday. “I have a sore back from sleeping next to Victoire’s bed last night.” Fleur didn’t think she had any Black Cat Flu symptoms. “I mean, I’m slightly hot but that’s normal for pregnancy. Right?” Oh Merlin, what if she had caught it too and now both her babies were in danger. “I’m sure it’s normal.” She stated decisively to Healer Fábregas, almost daring her to say otherwise.

Fleur couldn’t handle anything else.