WHO: Heidi Twilfit and Henry Wadcock
WHAT: Heidi and baby Brandon have a bit of a temperature!
WHERE: Their flat
WHEN: Today!



For the last few days, Heidi had been trying to pretend nothing was wrong. There were too many things to do between working at the office and taking care of Brandon; it was nice to be needed by her son, but sometimes it was distressing to both of them when he started to cry as soon as she left the room. There was no time for her to be ill, and it was probably just a silly little stomach flu that she didn’t need to worry about...or at least that’s what she’d thought until the usual stomach-calming potions didn’t work for more than an hour or two.

She wiped her lips, turned the faucet that she’d had running on while she’d been losing her lunch, and brought herself up to the mirror with a long sigh. Her eyes had darker circles under them than she remembered, and even she had to admit that she didn’t look well. A sudden wave of panic ran through her as she looked down at her hands, mentally doing a tally...

“Henry,” she called from the room as she finished washing up, “I think … I may have to admit to defeat and take a day off work tomorrow.”

Henry bounced Brandon against his chest, tilting his head back with a grin, “I told you three days ago to go see a healer.”

He looked down at his son, who stared up at him pitifully, lip jutted out as tears filled his eyes once more. Henry dropped his cheek to the top of the baby’s head, mimicking his pout at the warmth of his (still very bald) head. “Not you too, hm?”

With the quidditch season over and the European Cup done, Henry was glad to have more time to be at home with Heidi and Brandon, but it was still daunting. He had been trying to help around the house but there was really so much running around to do that it felt like they were moving in a constant whirlwind. He supposed it wasn’t bad, they were both successful and their son was growing and learning new things every day, but maybe a holiday was in order, with how frantic life had been this past year.

Henry continued to rock Brandon as he left the nursery, and started toward the bathroom, “I think Bran’s got a fever,” he let out, putting his cheek to the baby’s head one more time, “He’s warm.”

If there was one sure way to make sure that she got herself to the doctor, it was to tell her that their son was ill -- she didn’t think Henry would fake such a thing, but she walked hurriedly out of the bathroom toward them and tried to ignore the wave of dizziness overcoming her in order to place the back of her hand against Bran’s forehead with a furrowed brow. Either he was very good at getting their son to cooperate with his little ruse, or he really was sick. Either way …

“Well, if I’m going to take tomorrow off -- we might as well get him to Mungo’s now.” She’d heard from one of their clients at work that there’d been a surge in people going there, but she wasn’t going to take any risks with how young Brandon was.

“I’ll --” she had to stop herself at the edge of the bed before she lost her balance, looking down at the duvet for a moment before glancing over her shoulder to Henry and their son. “-- just get my coat.”

“Hold it,” Henry said, putting a hand out as he was still able to hold Bran with one arm. He put a hand on Heidi’s shoulder and eyed her carefully. He knew she’d been feeling ill, but a wobble was much different than simply having a fever. He himself had been feeling a bit tired, but nothing out of the ordinary. “Maybe you should rest, I can take him.”

Going out into the cold couldn’t be good for either of them, but Brandon was too little to simply wait it out. He at least needed to see the pediatric healer, they might just say to let him sleep with more fluids, but he still needed to be seen. He knew he’d been teasing Heidi about seeing a healer, but having a lie in might do her some good as well. His hand went to her forehead, and Henry frowned. He pulled out his wand and summoned a blanket that gently draped over her shoulders.

“It’s freezing outside, there’s no point in the both of us turning into icicles.”

She furrowed her brows tightly when he rested his hand on her shoulder and then wrapped the blanket around herself with a sigh. She didn’t want to admit it, but he was more than likely right -- if she was having trouble standing, she certainly wouldn’t be much help to their son. She wouldn’t trust herself holding him.

And she did hate the cold...she nodded slowly and dropped down onto the bed a little harder than she’d really meant to.

“Well...all right. But you’d better keep me posted, mister.” She was already finding the blankets a great comfort, though, so maybe she’d just close her eyes for a while...and when she opened them again, surely her darling husband-to-be would be home with Bran. Things would be fine, wouldn’t they? They’d been through enough that a silly little flu wasn’t going to get her hopes too far down.