As Octavius Montgomery Pepper climbed the stairs in St Mungo's hospital, he inhaled the scent of the flowers he was carrying, wrapped in brown paper. They were Claire's favourite, Monty remembered her telling Catherine once when she was helping her sister in law in the garden while Monty painted Eta reading a tarot book, sprawled on a rug on one of those rare hot British summer days.

The painting of Eta kept that memory crisp, and the flowers clasped gently between his fingertips would hopefully cheer up the long term resident he was coming to see.

Monty had waited until the children had gone back to Hogwarts, and Francis had returned his regular attention to work in the bowels of the Ministry, before he had written ahead to Vivienne Thorpe, who last he remembered, was Claire's main healer, regarding a possible visit. He hadn't realised the woman was now rather more senior.

He was concerned, given what he had discovered at Christmas regarding a rekindled romance between his brother and Gabrielle Murray-Harker. Monty did not fault that Francis Pepper looked happier than he had done in some months (years to Monty, alas), but it troubled him that Francis and Claire were still married, and Francis had agreed when they had wed to look after her.

Nearing Claire's door, he peered around the corridors on the floor first, to see if he could spot Thorpe. He was earlier than he'd suggested on the letter, and she was undoubtedly a busy lady, so Monty instead decided to deliver the flowers, and hope that the healer found him eventually.

Knocking gently on the door, he stepped inside, a broad smile on his face,
"Claire, how are you darling?" He greeted, "Its Octavius, your brother in law, I brought your favourite flowers." The woman in the room looked surprised and a little alarmed until she extended her hands for the flowers to cradle, those somewhat recognised.

So far she was the only family member who hadn't shrieked about his rapid ageing. It was rather refreshing.
"Thank you." Claire uttered quite calmly and gestured to the chair beside her, before breathing in the scent.
"Are they my favourites?"

Monty nodded, still smiling fondly.
"I always try to bring some for you, you take them in your arms, smell them, and cradle them like a baby until I suggest,"
"You put them in a vase."

Monty stopped and stared for a beat, surprised.
"Absolutely, shall I?" Claire looked down at the flowers and inhaled the scent again, her eyes half-closing. Then she extended them back to him.
"They are lovely." She agreed, and let Monty arrange them for her.

"Francis bring the gramophone for you?" Monty asked, placing them down beside it. The horn shone in the light that came through the windows.
"Perhaps." Claire echoed in the background. Did she remember? Was she getting better, or was it just his mind suggesting her ambiguity was actually a recollection?

"Sorry I've not been in a while," Monty apologised, turning back to his sister in law, the flowers sorted, "I went away, look, you've got our postcards." There were a number of postcards from different locations on their trip, all pinned to the wall in a neat collage.
"They were from you?" Claire sounded surprised. "Have you been gone a long time?" Monty looked back and saw her cradling a photograph of Francis, pointing at it, "You're a lot older than this."

Smiling gently, Monty sat down, and shook his head,
"That's Francis, your husband, he's my brother."
"My husband?"
"Yes Claire, you got married in 1996, thirteen and a half years ago, roughly."
"But not to you?
"No. I'm your brother in law. I'm married to Catherine."

Claire peered down at the photo of Francis again, frowned and looked back at Monty.
"Do I have children?"
"Yes…" Monty paused, looking to the collection of photographs in the room, but Claire was on her feet,
"Are these my children?"
"Yes!" Monty exclaimed, a little too vigorously, as Claire seized the correct photograph, Francis still in her other hand.

This must be a good day, how lucky he was.
"Two boys." Claire mused to herself. "You, you have children too…" She put down both of her photos and then seized one of Monty, Catherine and the three girls, thrusting it towards him.

Monty was smiling so hard tears were pricking in his eyes.
"Yes, yes!" He encouraged. Please don't say she'd only just been through her family with a healer moments before his arrival - please say she is putting this together herself.

"I remember!" Claire exclaimed, bending down and seizing Monty's face between both hands, kissed him rather fervently on the lips, taking him entirely by surprise.

"Merlin!" He exclaimed, prising free, and catching sight of who he presumed was Thorpe at the same time. "New treatment or something?" He asked. They'd not met, but his younger self was in many of the photos, and the letter had told her of his impending arrival.

Thirteen years of healing and Vivienne Thorpe could say, convincingly, that nothing in the hospital could surprise her.

And so when their ingredients stock had runout without the new delivery yet due, she was perfectly capable of receiving the news and contacting their Apothecary. When Mrs Clark somehow managed to crack the window in her room (and nearly topple out), Viv did not so much as bat an eyelid while instructing a mediwizard to watch the old woman. Strange situations simply happened at St Mungo's- c'est la vie, what was the point in being surprised?

This was not her attitude when she walked in to Claire Pepper's private rooms, a stern sight in lime green robes, and nearly dropped her clipboard.

Mon dieu! Surely not what she expected to see this afternoon. The Healer collected herself instantly, clearing her throat as the wizard- Montgomery Pepper (she hoped) - pulled himself away from the patient. "Merlin!" he exclaimed. "New treatment or something?"

"I have already evicted two visitors today Monsieur Montgomery, don't tempt me." Vivienne glanced at the wizard as she closed the door behind her. "But I think it is not you who are the culprit, non?" she paused to smile softly at Claire instead. "You are animated, maybe it is better if you sit down."

Taking her patient by one hand and leading her by the shoulder, Viv led the witch to rest at the foot of the bed before looking back up at Monty. He was an older man with a kind face, she decided. Kind faces were rare and with so little time on her hands nowadays, she found herself having to trust that people would do best even in her absence- so maybe she would trust this wizard.

"Désolé, Claire..." she patted Mrs Pepper's arm gently. "I need a moment with your brother-in-law, oui? And we will be a un mo-- we will be a minute." Better not to confuse her with shifting languages.

Vivienne straightened, gesturing for Monty to leave the room with her. "Only a minute, if you would please."

"I have already evicted two visitors today Monsieur Montgomery, don't tempt me." Monty held both hands up in surrender, trying to look humble. "But I think it is not you who are the culprit, non?"

The healer took charge of his sister in law gently, sitting her at the foot of her bed like one might guide a small child, speaking to her kindly. Monty liked her already - then there were few in these walls he'd ever felt worried about. The healers were good stock in his eyes.

"Only a minute, if you would please."

"Certainly, back in a mo, Claire!" Monty smiled and waggled his fingers at his brother's wife before following Vivienne Thorpe out, and closing the door behind them.

"Sorry about that," Monty began in earnest, "She's never done that before, but I think she thought I was Francis. I must have aged into his face or something." He made a funny face at the thought, "Sorry, yes, Octavius Pepper, but call me Monty, its what I prefer. You got my letter, explaining... well, the trip, and well, my change in appearance. Its good to meet you at last, Healer Thorpe." He extended a hand to shake.

"How's she doing?"

The wizard came across as genuine enough- and he was surely l'auteur of the letters received.

"Vivienne, s'il vous plaît." The Healer met his hand with a gentle but firm grip, smile reaching her eyes. "All our patients, they can be unpredictable, unfortunately. Your sister in-law is no exception." It kept the fourth floor exciting if nothing else.

Outside the room, few other hospital staff stalked the corridor. It was not so busy a day for in-patients and she could afford to be here to check on her old patients, her old grounds. Old. This had been her main responsibilities only last week, mon dieu. Vivienne sighed softly at the visitor's question- not because her answers were always negative but because they always felt like they came short of what people hoped.

"Different." Viv's gaze shifted briefly to the closed door. "We had been on un nouveau traitement for two, three months. It is less aggressive and our potions more... therapeutic. Now she wakes with less confusion and she is more aware, I think, of missing information. And she remembers selectively."

Many of the long-term patients awoke each morning without any desire to recall or remember. They sat or stood or strolled aimlessly and with nothing but present concerns. This changed for only a few, under treatment, and Claire Pepper was receptive.

"I do not want to, ah, lift your hopes..." she offered Monty a tone of caution. "What she remembers is little, oui? I have given her un journal to keep a track of her days but it is not perfect. When we return, you must be clear and firm when you speak. Give no space for confusion. Confusion will cause her to panic, it is not pleasant for any of us."

"... And she remembers selectively."

Monty was overjoyed to hear. Talking with Francis over Christmas had been difficult, his brother hadn't wanted to discuss Claire too much - Monty had seen the old wounds had reopened with his brother, torn between following his heart between two different women. For the sake of the family, Monty had stepped back rather than tell his brother he was a fool, that Claire needed him.

"I do not want to, ah, lift your hopes... What she remembers is little, oui? I have given her un journal to keep a track of her days but it is not perfect. When we return, you must be clear and firm when you speak. Give no space for confusion. Confusion will cause her to panic, it is not pleasant for any of us."

He nodded firmly, pulling gently at his beard as he listened. This was all sounding very positive, from little to no progress before that. Or getting set back in her progress - often by one of the children getting upset without meaning to.

"Still, very good news indeed. I am so very heartened." Monty smiled, "She is a bit like her old self today, though she never snogged me like that in our lives, she used to be like that, cheerful, talkative. Like the boys take after her a bit, you know, not as reserved and thoughtful as Francis. I wish I had taken more photos of her."

His eyes momentarily examine the new Head Healer's features, thinking that she would make a pretty face to paint, amongst natural colours, flattering... perhaps he ought to suggest that to her - significant post at the hospital.... recognisable... peak of her career...

Realising he was staring he raised both eyebrows in surprise and continued.

"She remembers more of the family, though she's got me and Francis a little muddled. Perhaps I'm ..." He glanced towards Claire's door and smoothed his moustache. "I know you're not in charge of her, given your promotion, Healer Thorpe, but I ... I worry my brother's distancing from his wife is going to compromise this good work. Confuse her."

The lack of un mari particulier had been evident and even dispiriting from Vivienne's point of view- this sudden invasion of affection, of memories, was welcomed. Monty was very different from his brother: a breath of fresh air in her patient's presence.

If not a little eccentric. At least she hoped that the staring was a part of his eccentricity.

"The confusion est normal. There is a resemblance. If you are clear, I think that she will differentiate better the next time. Or the time after." Magic or muggle, these treatments were not an exact science. "You understand how it is."

Change would be either unexpected or slow. Also, always, the eternal truth: "Even with this progress, she won't return to the way she was. There is, um, no going back."

Patients with psychological or memory damage did not regress to the persons they once were, if healed- they progressed into becoming an alloy of past and present selves. Something new. It was never easy. Vivienne pondered Monty's question for a while; pausing to look back at the room door.

"Mister Pepp-- your brother. He has spoken to his wife about this distancing some time ago, I cannot be sure if Claire recalls any of it..." she trailed off into a soft sigh. "Upset her, oui. I do not know if it confuses her. Strong emotions can also be catalysts of healing. We cannot truly know how it effects her but you can see for yourself today, monsieur, and maybe draw conclusions for yourself?"

No going back. That was a horrible thought, but so very true. They'd been told that at the very start, and it had been awful. He'd never seen his older brother in such a state - it was worse than being widowed, so see the woman he loved and married change. Perhaps Monty could begin to see why Francis had found solace in Gabrielle's arms in recent months, but it still wasn't right.

"My eldest daughter, Theta mentioned some incident, just before Francis told Theta about this 'distancing'," Monty used his fingers to punctuate the word. "I hate that, I hate everything about it, he's giving up on her, and I've just seen this is the most important time for her, a chance to recover, where she's making real progress - ahh..!"

Realising he was vocalising his frustrations which he'd kept away as best he could, he stopped himself, and smoothed his moustache, lowering his shoulders.
"Apologies Hea- Vivienne, I love Claire as I love all my family, so if he is unprepared to make the effort, then I shall replace him. She deserves our full, and present support." He nodded firmly.

"Be clear then." He agreed, nodding again. "I'll do my best, will take your direction."

Together they re-entered the room, where Claire was now sat with the journal that had been described outside of the room, which was open on her lap on the bed. She was staring at the photographs, a few words already noted down in fresh ink, presumably working out who she had just received flowers from and writing it down.

"Hello, hello, back now Claire love, just had to speak with Vivienne, nothing wrong. We just haven't met properly you see?" He greeted his sister in law brightly, the frustrations slithering back away in his unconscious.

"Do you like the flowers?" He asked, settling back down in one of the armchairs, Claire was perched on the bed still, and looked from him to the vase of germinis and back again thoughtfully. Monty suspected she was trying to remember if he had mentioned, but he hadn't.

"Yes. What are they?" She asked, quill in her hand and the journal in the other.

"Germinis. You told my wife, Catherine, that they were your favourites. I hope that hasn't changed?" His eyes slid from Claire to Vivienne, remembering the healer had mentioned that things would never quite be the same.

"Though i don't suppose you have a florist visiting regularly, right?" His face winced as he realised his humour was perhaps muddying the waters there and shook his head.

"What have you been up to?" He asked instead, gesturing to the journal.

Vivienne's eyebrows went up in a confused combination of a amusement and admiration at the wizard's animation. "Apologies Hea- Vivienne, I love Claire as I love all my family, so if he is unprepared to make the effort," he seemed to be composing himself. " then I shall replace him. She deserves our full, and present support."

Naturellement, he was correct, although a little... excitable. His affection concern for her patient was more ardent than she thought appropriate but it was not her place to say. Claire was not even officially under Viv's care anymore. A downside to the promotion that she couldn't shake off in good conscience.

They returned to the room without further comment, the Healer following closely behind and shutting the door. Claire was back in bed- faithfully at her journal. It was a reliable memory crutch. As they exchanged uneasy pleasantries, Vivienne moved to the edge of the bed and sat down lightly; she smiled at the woman.

Monty's queries weren't confusing- they didn't seem to upset her patient- but he did seem distressed by his own sense of humour. He looked to her and she glanced back, on the verge of a response when Claire spoke.

"I receive blue..." the witch looked up unsurely at Viv and then her brother-in-law. "Blue carnations, I think?" Her hands went flipping through the pages in the journal abruptly before she held the book up to him.

A picture had been pasted on to a scribbled page. There was a vase of bright blue flowers rustling in the wind that came through the window of her room. Vivienne's brow cleared at the photo, which she had taken herself not too long ago.

"Oui. That's right," she glanced at Monty. "We have volunteers who bring flowers on the weekends."

Claire smiled in relief at this, nodding and picking up her quill to jot something down. "Last weekend and the weekend before that," she clarified in the tone of a diligent schoolchild. "They are pretty-" she faltered. "B-but so are these. Thank you very much." Viv watched with a careful eye as her patient's fingers gripped the journal cover anxiously. "I like bright colours. Do you... do you remember what else I liked?"

“I like bright colours. Do you... do you remember what else I liked?” Claire asked. Monty stroked his moustache and looked from his sister in law to Thorpe, remembering that this was 'new' Claire to all intents and purposes, she might like entirely different things.

“Yes, yes I do, but people change what they like, and who is to say I remember absolutely?” He smiled kindly. “You liked to watch me paint in the garden. You and Catherine, my wife, your sister in law, you two used to tend to the plants and the children would play, and I'd paint. Just quick, short pieces, nothing grand.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders, shirt rustling ever so slightly beneath his waistcoat.

“Sometimes we'd take a walk, go out for the day and watch birds, you know, at the place near where Catherine and I live in Sandy, the Muggle organisation that does bird conservation. We'd find somewhere under the trees at lunchtime and take a picnic. Both families together. You'd make your wonderful chocolate cake and we'd never have any left to take home with nine mouths to feed, five of them children.” His gaze had become hazy as he pictured the scene in his mind's eye. “Catherine would be sure to prepare some Pimms, you remember, that Muggle drink you mix with lemonade and put fruit in?”

Yes, he could picture Claire now, laughing and smiling as she pulled her husband's arms around her shoulders blissfully. 
“The children would scamper off and play hide and seek or try and spot some wildlife and we'd stretch out on the blanket, Francis would put his arm round you, and you'd tell him off for dripping condensation off the glass onto you after he'd covertly charmed it to cool the drinks before we set out. Catherine would marvel at how we'd never need those Muggle ice blocks to keep the picnic cool.”

He let out a sad little sigh of lost days.
“Now Theta's all grown up and left home, it'll never be the same. Not sure I could smuggle the drink in here, not now I've brought it up before Vivienne.” Monty turned to the healer and gave a pleasant little shrug, his smile bittersweet.

“So yes, yes I do remember some of what you liked, my dear. But not everything, and who's to say you'd still like them? Francis would know far better...” He spoke without thinking and his expression fell. Across the room Claire noticed and peered curiously from where she was making notes.

“Why doesn't he tell me then?”

“I don't know.” Monty replied, and shook his head. “He's... been busy at the Ministry, and looking after the boys for Christmas. I'm sure he'll be along any day.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair and looked to Viv with a flash of irritation. “And if he isn't, I'll thump him, brother or not...”


End