Contrary to rumors, Iris Nollett did not live in her office. Of course, the early snidget caught the flobberworm, so to speak, but today, she was gloriously free. Marvelously free. Free to warm her hands with Muggle take-out to bribe her oldest friend with lunch. Broaden his horizons as well. It  was an upbeat witch that sauntered through the red-brick facade of the hospital, hardly even being still except for giving her name to mannequin. The security guard poked skeptically at the plastic bag and its contents. "Its Muggle," she droned exasperated, and eager to get it back. There were no warming charms on the food. With a sad little huff, he handed it back.

The lifts were fairly free, and it dinged fairly quickly, opening up Flynn's floor. Literally, his floor, since he was the healer-in-charge.  Right, yes. She'd better keep her eyes on the prize. Rumors had been buzzing around dear friend. Delicious little tidbits of no substance yet that whispered of a werewolf cure. Aside from the take-out, her work quill and parchment pad were safely tucked away in her backpack, and she was ready to whip them out at a moment's notice.

The brunette knew the way to Flynn's office, and with a confident little knock, she announced her presence. A few seconds later, she twisted the door open, fairly sure that she was welcome. "I have something that'll blow your mind, as the muggles say," she held the large white bag up with her fingers.

Flynn was in the middle of writing a letter to the lovely Fauna Blake, when he heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” He said, standing up as the door opened. He couldn’t greet Iris with anything other than a big hug! After all, they had been friends since the Hogwarts days, and she stuck by him even when he was a chubby, un-confident second year with glasses that gave him bug eyes. He had grown up, and grown into his body and looks by seventh year, but the confidence didn’t come in until he had graduated.

“Iris! It’s been too long!” He exclaimed, letting her free from the hug.

The healer didn’t realize how hungry he had been until he smelled the food in the take out bag. “Did you bring me some muggle delicacies? Splendid!” he had always had a fascination with muggles, though he never went out of his way to go to their shops and restaurants. Unless he was looking for fun gifts for birthdays or holidays.

“Now, are you here to see my beautiful face and share food with me, or do you have something else on your agenda?” She was a Daily Prophet reporter, after all. “You need to know, I can’t talk about my patients—confidentiality and all. It’d be unethical!”

Much like Flynn, the hug was big, and warm. Iris easily surrendered into the all-encompassing embrace, taking as much satisfaction from her friend. Time had changed them both, and though, she didn't speak much about the Second War, the brunette was grateful she could at least see him nearly everyday. Bless evacuation orders, then.

"Pfft, not that long, hardly even a decade," she teased him upon being released from his arms.

Glancing around his office, she placated the healer , "Yes, yes, you can unwrap the surprise once you set this down."  Iris was all ready to hand it over to Flynn; the healer was best able to set their lunch out. Frankly, she was famished. Muggle restaurants did take their time.

The thing about have smart friends; they knew you too well. "Flynn, you wound me," she mock swooned for few moments, before dropping the pretence. "And you're right on both accounts."

That didn't mean, she could prolonging her teasing.  "Not about your patients. Guess again, you only have two chances left."

Flynn gladly took the food out of her hands and cleared his desk. He opened the bag and  took the cartons out. “It feels like Christmas!” He exclaimed, opening one of the containers. Merlin, it smelled good! The healer was glad that the bag also included some plastic flatware—otherwise he’d have to borrow from the cafeteria. Again. And he may forget to return the flatware. Again.

He pulled up a chair for her to sit. 

“Two chances?” He let out a small groan, “Okay ! is it about  my dashing good looks? Because I’ve got a girlfriend.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Or~” One chance left! Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what it’d be.

“Is it about my Uncle’s bakery? Is he making offensive pastries again?” Uncle Tobias had once gone through a phase where all the cupcakes were supposed to be 'clever comeback cupcakes.' Instead, they insulted anyone who tried to eat them.

Christmas in March. If only, but watching Flynn dive into the bag, and opening the containers with eagerness and anticipation did bring an understanding. All they needed was freezing ice, snow and chilling winds. You know what? Christmas in March sounded better. Tolerable weather, at least.

A nod of thanks, she plopped herself down, her backpack slipped down sinking down on the floor.

"Hand over the one with an I. That's mine."

She snorted so hard, erupting into a peal of laughter. "Only if I worked on a Witch Weekly piece, Flynn," she had barely managed to be her witty self.

"No, I haven't heard anything about that," she replied, now, thoroughly confused. Offensive pastries? They sounded appetizing. Perhaps, she'd drop by there sometime to eat them.

"Well, you used up all two chances," she replied, overdoing her disappointment. "Let's just say, certain rumors have been swirling around you about your and work." She cracked her knuckles, readying herself. "Werewolves, in particular," she added on, looking closely at Flynn.

“Ah. Yes. Werewolves.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, though his eyes were much more stern. Finding a werewolf cure was a topic that was near and dear to his heart, and it was something he and his father had been working on for a long, long time. It seemed they weren’t getting anywhere quite yet, but each new plant brought new hope—but the means of actually testing them weren’t the best. Why would people take a plant that probably wouldn’t work when wolfsbane was treatment that worked time and time again?

And the current plant was incredibly poisonous, when it wasn’t brewed correctly.

“Rumors about me and werewolves, eh? Sounds exciting. Am I frolicking in the woods with them during the full moon?” Flynn teased, though it must be noted that he was hardly paying any attention to the food now.

“Get to it, Iris. What do you want to know?” 

"Stop doing that, you make your eyebrows look like flobberworms," she teased him.  Unable to deny that mouthwatering aroma anymore she roughly shook off the plastic covers, and proceeded to stuff her mouth. Merlin, that is good. 

Iris rolled her eyes openly. There was no need for a poker face in front of Flynn. Swallowing, she opened her mouth to retort----

“Get to it, Iris. What do you want to know?” 

---and shut it again.

Flynn was a friend. Giving him the run-around was unthinkable. Especially for too longer than necessary.

"More like a werewolf cure."

Leaning in closely, she started straight at him--her jaw stiff and hard. "Is there any truth you're close to finding a cure?"

“Yes. Just like flobberworms. Identical/” Flynn wiggled them again, just to spite her. Furry flobberworms, above his eyes. He’d have to use that sometime. He chuckled to himself as if he thought he was the cleverest thing since brass caldrons. 

But then she got to the point.

"More like a werewolf cure."

The healer nodded solemnly. It seemed that word had gotten out. Honestly, he had expected this sooner or later--  it wasn’t a month ago that the plant he was using for his research had gotten stolen and a bit abused. Several flowers had been removed, but it was recovering nicely. “I haven’t found a cure.” Flynn finally took a bite of chow mein, and chewed thoughtfully.

“But m’dad and I. We’re working on it. I have no way of knowing if I’m close. It’s hard to get werewolves to volunteer to use it—and then there’s the safehouses they’d have to go into. And healers to standby to make sure there are no adverse effects. To give the people treatment if the potions go wrong. I’ve tested them on myself to make sure they’re not poisonous, but if they’re not poisonous on me doesn’t mean it’s not for a werewolf. Right now,I’m in the process of finding people to safely.” He leaned towards Iris, to emphasize his point.

“And I mean safely, test.”

He cleared his throat.

"There's also this: wolfsbane works 'well enough' for controlling some of the symptoms. But it doesn't help the pain. Nothing helps the pain. And I've heard it tastes awful. I wouldn't wish what werewolves go through every month on anyone. If I don't find a cure, I at least want to find something that helps give them painless transformations." Flynn rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't really know what else to tell ya."

Ugh, she had only herself to blame, when he waggled his flobberworms. Iris couldn't let out a sound of exasperation, with her mouth busy chewing the crispy broccoli. But Flynn got to the point fast.  Research was a process. Her grandparents' occupational motto, being academic herbologists. Being their granddaughter, made the brunette understand how tenuous and stressful the whole enterprise could be.

The pace of the project surprised her. Another piece of broccoli on its way to her stomach halted its way into her mouth. The reporter squirmed in her seat; she'd never heard a word of this from him, and this was news or it would be one day. "You mean, you're ready for trials?"

Safely, yes. There had to be werewolves desperate enough sign on. "Won't be easy. Health risks and confidentiality issues." Her fork waved about like her wand; the floret of broccoli stiffly hanging on its end. "Where'll you get them from? An ad from the Prophet?"

With all this humdrum over the lunarly-afflicted beings, she doubted anyone would be interested in making the transformation process painless. "I'm chuffed about you being your altruistic healer self," she dumped the fork into her take-out bin, "Two things though, I'm out of sorts that you never told me about this before."

Her angled face became even more harder, more somber and harder. "Second, you need to be careful about this?"

“I’m…. There’s no way for me to progress any further without trials. And funding.” Flynn admitted, “I can only go so far in my research without testing it. I have a couple promising plants, but I do not want to get anyone’s hopes up.” He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He’d have to get a team of trusted healers to work with him, support from someone with some sort of political power in order to fund the testing. The cost to raise these plants and make these potions weren’t cheap.

“There’s plenty that needs to get done before testing.” Flynn cleared his throat and twisted some chow mein around his fork thoughtfully. “I’m not doing this because it’s easy and safe. It’s the right thing to do.” His reputation could be at risk in certain circles. But Hughes rarely bothered themselves with what others thought of them.  “I could put an ad in the Prophet. I may put some up on the creature injuries floor at St. Mungo’s….”

He took a bite of his noodles and waited til he was done swallowing to continue,  “You don’t need to be out of sorts. It’s not like I’ve been going around telling everybody except you!” He grinned, “No. It’s something my dad and I have kept quiet until recently.”  Partially because it was a personal matter for Ianto, whose closest childhood friend was a werewolf during a less tolerant time.

“I will be as careful as I can.” Flynn assured her. Though, big changes were rarely made when people stayed in their comfort zones.