Wiggly, Waggily Tail!

The sick children in the paediatrics unit always liked the presence of something new; or, rather, someone new. They especially liked animals and it was becoming increasingly difficult for any of them to be cleared as non-aggressive to any of the diseases that the children had fallen victim to. Unless, of course, you were a very special golden Labrador retriever by the name of Louis Delacour. He was incredibly clean, ridiculously so, but that was perhaps a side-effect of having an image-crazy Hélène Delacour as an owner. Louis loved the hospital almost as much as Hélène did and he was very excitable when it came to being with the children who were absolutely elated to be in his presence. He was the only one, might to Hélène’s delight, that was cleared as being clean enough to enter the children’s ward and though some frowned upon the practice all together, it was clear that the animals were a great moral booster.

It was mid-week and already weekend-fever was beginning to take hold of those that weren’t required to work the long hours that the weekend demanded of the Healers. It was safe to say that Hélène was not looking forward to Friday but eagerly anticipating the Sunday that she had off which would allow her to relax for once and perhaps do some additional exploring of London; she had been particularly lax on that front considering she had been in the city for around three months. But the secretaries were beginning to get sloppy and she found on her desk upon entering her office that morning, work that wasn’t even hers to deal with and so up until ten o’clock, most of Hélène’s time was devoted to going back and forth between different departments, dropping of files into the correct hands before going to visit the secretaries to grumble at them about their lack of commitment to a workforce that depended on them order for them to save lives.

It was only after that that Hélène could go back up to her office and ascertain what work needed to be completed by the end of the day and what she could hold off on. In the end she had to conjure two trays, ensuring that they were a pretty plum purple, and dumped her work in there, immediately worried about how much was in the ‘today’ tray.

In the end, Hélène decided to put it to the back of her mind and left her office, leaving a note on the door for those that were looking for her, telling them that they’d find her in paediatrics. From there she took the lift up onto that level and met the head of that department who was watching through the windows of the man play area as the children interacted with the lab who seemed very eager to play with them but, much to Hélène’s delight, was not being too hard on them and was taking things slowly, ensuring that no one was left behind or alone. At the compliments the head gave her, she glowed with pride, making a mental note to buy Louis something nice later.

At ten o’clock, she realised that there was an intern no doubt loitering in the foyer and so Hélène made her way down to the foyer where, upon conferring with the slightly sheepish secretaries, determined that the young man nearest the lifts was the one she was looking for and so hesitantly, Hélène drew over, inquiring gently, “Mr. Jordan? I am Hélène Delacour. I will be your...tutor, I suppose.”

It was the first time Cliff had been in the hospital for a reason other than visiting his sister and, though he had been in Mungo's extensively for the past few weeks, he had already gotten lost. He was to begin his internship here, one he hoped to last at least until he had seen his sister pass into health.If his attention could stay on it, maybe longer, but Cliff rarely thought of the long term.

Nevertheless, he had come in with only the knowledge of how to get to Ariana's ward and, once he had arrived there, he had to change tactics. He asked a Healer where he was to report to. He was directed to a secretary, who directed him to another secretary, who directed him to a nurse, who had led him through a labyrinth and then told him to wait. That had been ten minutes ago. Now he awkwardly rocked back and forth, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do.

And suddenly, a gorgeous older woman was approaching me. Cliff forced himself to move his eyes to her face as she approached, and he fixed on a goofy, lopsided grin that surely told what his teenaged mind had been thinking merely moments before. Something along the lines of SCORE!

She introduced herself and the thought repeated and he grinned. "Hi," he squeaked. His face froze in embarrassed terror and he cleared his throat. In a weak voice, he introduced himself. "Cliff Jordan.... Is the name of... of me."

The lobby was rather warm at this time of day, the influx of maladies and injuries in the Wizarding population seeming to increase as lunch drew closer, as if they wanted to prevent their Healers from filling their stomachs. Helene could forgive them for that but she had a funny feeling she would have to deal with many patients that were not even her own as more Healers grew impatient to see their significant others during their lunch hour or just to have a few minutes to themselves for quiet reflection, a cup of coffee and something to eat. Helene couldn’t say she could blame them for that. After a stressful day, the simplest of pleasures were often the best.

Looking up from the clipboard, Helene smiled, pleased to find that she had picked the right loitering teenager. She reached forward to shake his hand briefly and then drew back to thumb quickly through what information they had one the young man. His sister, she noticed with immediate dismay, was suffering from the Welsh Green Itch. Helene sighed briefly, glancing up to look at the boy for a moment before fixing her eyes back on the information, wondering idly whether she would find his sibling’s medical file amongst the ones in her office.

“Alright, Cliff. Well, let’s go back up to my office and we’ll work out some things, make a cup of tea and the like. Do you know which area of Healing you want to specialise in? We cover a wide variety of things but it is always something good to know right away so we can cater for your interests. It’s alright if you don’t know, though. It’s not a problem. You’ll see all of the departments today so maybe you’ll find you like one more than the other.”

She was very casual, for which Cliff was incredibly grateful. He was not one to be adept at corporate jargon and protocol. He was much too oblivious to tiptoe around policy and to understand the ways an institution worked. Cliff was a simple boy. He wanted to work, he wanted to learn, he wanted to help. Formalities, he felt, would get in the way of that and hinder more than help.

She offered to make a cup of tea for the two of them, just the two of them, along, in her office. Cliff tried to shove his hormones down as he knew that he would need to professionally work with Helene. How could he if he was thinking about how well she rocked that uniform? They would have tea, just tea, and talk about work.

She had directed a question to him and he distracted himself by saying, "N-no specialty, yet, really... I'd just really like to help with this Green thing going around, because my sister has it and she's really... um, really unstable." It was hard for Cliff to get through talking about Arianna. He felt that the more he acknowledge the worst case scenarios, the more possible they became.

Thankfully, the boy wasn’t like some of the overly confident morons that she’d been put in charge of and who she had ever intention to place in the morgue as soon as possible. Not dead, no, but to work there, to be humbled a little bit. Now Helene wasn’t particularly vindictive, no! She did, however, believe that everyone had a place and if they wanted to better themselves then it had to be a gradual thing. She did not enjoy the way some of the students of Hogwarts waltzed in and expected to be fantastic or expected to be treated as if they were. It was important to start off small and then work your way up, that’s what she thought, and those that were humble and willing to learn were the ones that were going to succeed.

Helene led Cliff over to the lifts and pressed the button to call it down to the foyer. The lift shuddered into position and the doors opened with their customary ding. Helene stepped over the threshold and grimaced a little bit at the sound of her heels against the metal of the lift. She gestured for Cliff to follow her and then pressed the button which would take them up onto the floor where her almost-finished office was. The lift shuddered again and then began to rise, it was only then that Helene turned to Cliff.

“I am sorry,” She told him quietly. “Is your sister in St. Mungo’s? That might seem like a foolish answer but believe me, many families are withdrawing their husbands, wives, sisters, children from the hospital. The public are of the opinion that we are not doing our absolute best here. We are but it’s difficult to treat a disease when all you can do is try and lessen the symptoms, you know? Still, we’re getting closer and closer every day. We understand much more of it now than we did when we first encountered it. It’s promising, Cliff. Your sister will be fine, I believe.” Helene laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed it in what she hoped was an encouraging fashion.

The doors of the lift opened up and Helene stepped out, immediately making towards her office though at a far slower pace than she was used to, slowing down to allow Cliff the luxury of taking in everything that was going on. “It’s quite busy,” Helene said as she took a step back, narrowly avoiding a collision with some rushing nurses. “But then, what’s new? This is as dangerous as the autobahn’s in Germany, Cliff, if not more so with all the magic flying around. My office is much quieter, thank goodness. It’s an old treatment room. Quite big, really, too.”

Helene opened the door of the office after unlocking it and flicked on the lights. She stepped inside, unsettling the gathered dust and set her clipboard down on the desk. She moved over to the tall windows at the back of the room and twiddled the blinds, allowing some proper light into the room. Helene flicked the kettle on where it was sat on a small table against the plain wall between the windows and crossed the room to the cupboards below a side-board-cum-storage unit which held lots of bits and bobs she knew she’d be hard pressed to ever find again.

“Do you take sugar?” She inquired, shooting a smile over her shoulder at the boy.

Cliff followed Helene inside the lift, determinedly staring at her shoulders before turning and settling next to her inside of it. He twitched as it began to rise, always caught off guard by them and glanced over as she addressed him, asking of his sister and clarifying her question. He hadn't known people didn't trust St. Mungo's. It was of his opinion that if you couldn't trust Mungo's, who could your trust? Any treatment was better than none.

"Yeah, Ariana's here. It's been a few months now. Me and my brothers and my dad all got it, but we got over it quickly. Ariana's just got worse. It's weird- my whole family got it except my mum, and she was the one taking care of all of us. After awhile, nothing she could do helped Ariana so we checked her in."

She assured him that Ariana was sure to recover and squeezed his shoulder. He smiled good naturedly, catching her scent and trying to ignore it. Before he was put under too much strain, the lift stopped and opened. He stumbled after Helene, following her. she spoke of the hallway as he glanced around, trying to familiarize himself with it. He simply nodded at her words.

She opened her office and set about making it comfortable. He stepped inside and the door closed after him, leaving him to hover awkwardly just inside the office. He looked up at her words and smiled a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

There was never a busier time at St. Mungo’s than in the summer when the students were out of Hogwarts causing trouble for themselves and those around them. Helene couldn’t help but wonder why this boy was so different from his counterparts. She was appreciative though. Goodness only knew he was better off at St. Mungo’s working than getting drunk somewhere in a dingy London pub that new better than to serve minors.

She wasn’t sure why she of all people was given the job to tend to these young people, though. She was hardly an inspiration. She couldn’t help but glance at the shelves of pill bottles – or were they merely sweets? – at that thought. She sighed a little and took out a couple of tea bags, dropping one into each cup. She then looked over at Cliff.

“It’s something we all have to live with, whether that’s directly or indirectly.” Helene told him with a sympathetic smile. “She’ll be fine, I’m sure of it, Cliff. We’re getting closer to a cure every day. It’s just a matter of time before we arrive at it, at one that definitely works.”

The kettle boiled and Helene poured the water, allowing the tea to stain and flavour the water before taking the bags out. She dropped them into the bin and then reached for the fridge, producing the milk which she poured into each cup before making for the sugar. She then looked over at Cliff quizzically before asking,

“How many, exactly?”

He nodded, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, pinching the fabric of his pants with his fingers. For whatever reason, his 'cool' was off today. What the poor lad failed to realize was that it had never been 'on' in the first place. Cliff was still convinced this awkward feeling was only temporary, however, and he remained where he was by the door, totally incapable of fighting it off.

She continued to speak of the illness and Cliff trusted in her words, letting her optimism reinforce his hope. He and his father always seemed hopeful for Arianna- it was his mother and brothers that were the cynics. Arianna always reminded them that it was just a mild illness, and illnesses always came to an end... Right?

Right.

He had to shake these semi-pessimistic thoughts from his head. There were ill becoming of the optimist he naturally was. Helene asked how much sugar he wanted and he said, "Three?" Cliff had always found tea without sugar a fiend to his immature taste buds.

He began to make his way towards the desk, sitting in one of the chairs opposite Helene's chair. He glanced around, as though looking for permission from someone. Getting no immediate protests, he let himself relax a little.