Who: Odette MacFarlan!
What: Narrative!
Where: Mungo's! Because Drystan made her go


Holy shit how much longer was this going to take?

Odette sat, fidgeting like a small child, while she waited for the healer to return with the results of her physical. The physical that Drystan had insisted she take and deliver to him personally before being allowed to step foot back on the pitch.

You know, just incase she didn't potentially spread anything 'infectious' to the rest of the team and kill them all.

Because that's how diseases worked, making uninfected drop dead after all previous symptoms had completely disappeared from said first host.

Well, in her case mostly disappeared. Not that she had an infectious disease, of course! Odette at least knew that, it was just a--- thing. Bug something. That had just so happened to coincide during in a very turmoil time in her life.

Whatever.

But if she was going to be honest, Odette still wasn't feeling all that great; just better enough to go back to practice in time for their next game. With everything that was going on it would just be more unnecessary bad press if she continued to stay out any longer. Why Drystan was ignoring this logic was annoying, leaving her to sustain the sour look on her face from this morning for the rest of the day.

He would make her go to a healer (not even the Magpies one which meant she couldn't even bribe her way out of it) just to get a note. A note! Like you needed permission to get sick. Sick, because that was what she had been! Sick! Why no one had believed her was just rude-- anyone ever heard of stress-related illnesses? Thinking that you are sick, so you become sick? As far as Odette was concerned, her life had been everything but relaxing in the past week, so how was it her fault that her body had just shut down and responded with exhaustion and vomiting?

Not her fault, thank you very much.

Odette's hands dropped from braiding her hair to rest in her lap as the door finally opened. Thank fucking Merlin-- finally! Her sour face disappeared to let a publicly-trained smile slip in its place. The healer took his usual seat at the mini desk next to her table before turning to her.

"Well Odette, we've discovered why you haven't been feeling well." While the healer spoke, all Odette could focus on was how she severely hoped it was from a random Muggle illness. How great would that be? Not to mention probably the next best thing to report back to Drystan with besides something utterly ridiculous like dragon pox.

"By the look of these tests, and your answers to our general questions...."

Muggle illness, muggle illness, muggle illness---

"You are pregnant."

"What?" Odette snapped, her hands gripping her paper robe so tightly that it immediately ripped. Was this a joke? She looked at the healer harshly, contemplating who the hell would think this was funny besides the obvious answer. It wasn't funny.

"You are pregnant, Odette," he repeated much more tentatively, his small smile completely disappearing from his face. A long silence fell in the room as Odette pondered what the fuck was going on here, and going through all the explanations as to why no way-- not to mention how-- in hell she was pregnant. That-- just-- didn't------ no.

"That's impossible," she snapped again, her hands now sweating through the ripped cloth onto her bare skin. Despite feeling very hot in the face, the rest of her body was oddly cold. Was that a sign of pregnancy too, hmm? Sweating? Cold extremities? She wasn't pregnant! She couldn't be pregnant! It just didn't--- how-- she didn't even look pregnant! This must be some kind of mistake. No, this was a mistake because she--- Noah would never---

Even though not believing it to be true, Odette's eyes went wide at the thought of Noah. They had just--- huge fight over--- this exact--- no. Life was not that spiteful. Granted, she more than anyone found herself in ridiculous situations but this was just too unreal to actually be happening. It just didn't... happen.

So, no. Nope. False.

The healer shifted awkwardly in his spot, taking a moment to adjust his robes and shift the parchment from one hand to the other. She watched him with scrutinizing eyes as he glanced down back at the information in his hands. He had read wrong.

"Look, Healer--- Smethwyk," Odette momentarily paused to read his name tag. "There is no way that I am pregnant. As a quidditch player, and one for some time now, I have always taken the necessary steps to ensure that pregnancy would never be an issue until I wanted it to be. So--- there is no way that your tests are accurate. Besides, I have shown no signs of---

"You complained of nausea, fatigue, light-headiness and aversion to some foods?" he asked, reading off the list from his parchment. "And you answered unsure for you last menstrual cycle," he prompted, which only made the fire in her stomach grow larger. Who really kept up with that?

"It was last---" Odette began, but the more she thought the more she couldn't exactly remember. With training and whatnot it just... slipped her mind to keep track sometimes. It wasn't exactly the first thing that she thought of in the morning. Again, the room went silent.

"With late pregnancies---" the healer began, but Odette's shrill voice interrupted him.

"Late?" She was fairly certain her voice only reached that octave when she was drunk.

Healer Smethwyk cleared his throat to continue. "With such late pregnancy results, we always make sure to run the test at least twice to ensure accuracy." He looked at her over the top of his clipboard, as if almost daring her to continue to question him. And she would have, if he hadn't handed the information over so she could read it herself.

She--- was-- pregnant?

All fire in her stomach died instantly as the facts sobered her. This was Mungo's, where real healers worked with real potions and real results. People just didn't make up stuff, this wasn't a magazine headquarters or anything remotely like that. Which meant she was actually pregnant? Pregnant.

"Late?" Odette muttered feebly, her grip on the clipboard so tight she was unsure she would ever be able to let go of it. This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening, except it was! It was and--- holy shit. What was she going to do?

"Fifteen weeks, actually. It's lucky you came in now, who knows how much longer this could have gone unnoticed."

Her jaw dropped. Fif---teen--- weeks?

She was going to be sick.