3:15pm, Tuesday the 9^th of August

"You can go on in."

Zelda Sellaphix was surprised there wouldn't be a wait to get in to see the Head Healer of St. Mungo's Hospital; she must have luck on her side today. She absently wrung her hands - her left had been feeling just this side of numb for a few days.[1] Nothing alarming, just irritating.

She knocked on the door frame as she let herself in.

"I've got something for you, Miranda," she said, letting a large leather satchel slide off her shoulder to the floor. 

Miranda and Zelda had kept in touch since school. In their 20s they'd had a few wild nights out, and now and then they had a catch-up. But this might be the first time Zelda had come to Miranda's workplace with a parcel.

1.	Zelda is currently possessed by a weakened Pentral, but doesn't know.

The Head Healer of St Mungo’s looked up from her bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich that she’d just gratefully bitten into to see her old acquaintance stood in the door frame. Zelda and Miranda had known one another since their time at Hogwarts, they’d been friendly but Miranda had never been the sort to label people as friends. Calling someone a friend gave them some sort of ownership over you, a chance to use it at a later date. Friends took effort. Friends with husband in prison took a huge amount of effort. Acquaintances were far more suitable.

Zelda spoke and Miranda suddenly felt decidedly awkward stood leaning over her desk with half chewed bread, bacon, lettuce and tomato in her mouth. The rest of the sandwich was lowered and the witch took her time to chew as the visitor dropped a heavy satchel to the floor. A dark eyed gaze followed it before snapping back, her eyebrows rising.

“I’ve told Delilah to keep the riffraff out…” Her smirk accompanied the comment after she swallowed the only bite of the sandwich she’d managed to take. Ignan wondered why so many were left uneaten on her desk. Her assistant’s impeccable timing was the only cause.

“You’re 8 months late for a wedding present, Zelda.”

Zelda crossed her arms, and began taking a turn about the office. There was a difference between these two witches in terms of social status, but Zelda didn't want anything Miranda had.

Certainly not her marriage.

"Oh, you'll be waiting a bit longer on that."  Zelda had heard that Miranda Elliot had ended up with Ignan Storm of all people. A strange match, but whatever. She paused in front of a large painted portrait of some donor. It waved. Zelda turned and leaned against a sideboard.

"They're samples. I've found the best dittany and I've got it an absurd quantity."

She didn't make a move to go open the case and shove twigs in Miranda's face.  She didn't want to seem desperate, because she wasn't.

"I've also been brewing again. I have a new Dragon's Balm."

Arms still crossed, she absently cracked the knuckles of her left hand. 

"Who's your dittany guy? You're not using Drammes still."

She’d be waiting forever, Miranda considered. Not that she’d expected or even wanted wedding gifts from anyone. That was a reason for marrying with no one knowing you were even engaged.

Potions. This was about potions. Miranda, too, crossed her arms as Zelda told her of dittany and dragon’s balm. Never before had Zelda tried to pitch to St Mungo’s, so why now? Was she in trouble? Was the apothecary struggling after several years with Rafe in Azkaban?

“Of course, I’m not using Drammes.” That company had been taken off their stockists lists as soon as she’d woken up from her own poison induced slumber. “We brew most potions in house, Zelda.” The healer frowned, “You do read the prophet, don’t you?” Or did she burn it and live in her own little bubble?

“We’re working towards growing in house, too. Unfortunately, greenhouses take time to fully stock.” Hungry, the witch picked up her sandwich and took another bite. She’d speak to Zelda and be back out on the floor soon.

Zelda only smirked to hear more about the downfall of Drammes Apotheke. It was nice to be reminded of it. They'd tried to franchise Sellaphix's awhile back, but she and Rafe had brushed them off. It was a terrible tragedy what happened, but it did leave more room in the market for her to keep her honorable doors open.

And she laughed out loud at the mention of the Prophet.

"Oh, you know I do." Pox on the Prophet. Although Figaro was there now: a questionable life choice for her oldest, but it was a relief he had landed somewhere. 

Neverminding the Dragon's Balm (which was already selling well in the shop), she stood up and used her wand to levitate the case to a chair where it sprung open.

"Don't make me pitch to you, Miranda. Just have a look and see if you like it."

As soon as the case opened, a strong almost lemon-like smell wafted out. Inside were bundles of both fronds of fresh dittany leaves, packets of dried leaves and flowers, and clipped to the back of the case, vials of the powerful oils that naturally coated the plant.

"It's good stuff. What's it take, three years, to get dittany set up?"

It was. From seed to a mature plant, even dittany's made for the greenhouse took time.

Another bite of the sandwich was taken as Miranda moved around her desk to look in the case Zelda’s wand had sprung open. The aroma immediately hit her, the freshness of the leaves evident to the well practices healer. Her expression revealed nothing more than satisfaction with a decent sandwich.

“At least.” The mutter came between bites as her spare hand reached into the case, fingers encircling a bundle which she plucked from the case. Her sandwich was cast aside on the desk and the Head Healer pulled a leaf away and brought it to her nose. “Fresh.” Nothing else was said as she then rubbed the single leaf between thumb and forefinger to check texture.

It was good. She’d buy it. If Zelda’s apothecary and name weren’t currently associated with a wizard currently in Azkaban for illegal smuggling and her hospital was only just recovering from its worse disaster in recent history.

“My staff would need to do tests on a small sample.” Miranda replaced the bundle, glancing back at Zelda. “Nothing personal.” She shrugged and picked her sandwich up to finish it.

"I'd never make the mistake of taking anything you say personally," Zelda said, then sat down.

She did her best to hide it, but she was relieved. If Mungo's didn't want it, she'd have to hustle to sell it at retail before it went bad. Or hire out for another potion-maker to help her cure it all so that it would keep, even though fresh sold better.

Zelda had no objection to St. Mungo's doing their diligence; Zelda had done hers. She didn't doubt Miranda's people would find the dittany top quality. If they didn't? Well, she'd take that personally, indeed.

"Other than your sad dearth of dittany, is there anything else I could find for you?" she asked sweetly.

Zelda had known Miranda long enough to know that her tone and manner wasn’t personal. She was cold and blunt with most people. Some found her manner extremely off-putting, others were drawn to it. Her staff had learned to simply put up with it. If they didn’t learn, they didn’t last long at St Mungo’s.

Mid bite of her sandwich, Miranda watched Zelda sit down near the desk. She was planning on staying. It wasn’t just dittany she was interested in.

“We’re struggling to grow and harvest our own aconite. Conditions in our greenhouses clearly aren’t suitable.” Miranda gave a shrug before sitting in the seat next to her…could she call Zelda a friend? Did she truly call anyone a friend?

“I heard your son is at the Daily Prophet now?” Somehow she imagined the witch wouldn’t be impressed with her son’s choice of career.

Zelda could commiserate about the aconite. There was a reason she wasn't a Herbologist - she was dismal at coddling or tending anything as fragile and fickle as a plant. She could barely manage same with human beings. 

"Send an owl to Branwen Strangely," Zelda offered a scant bit of unsolicited advice. Strangely was known to be one who knew about tricky thickets.

And then ah, a question about her boys? Zelda had to be surprised and a little suspicious. What a friendly thing to ask.

"He's a good lad, our Figaro," she said. "Laying low, working hard, cutting his teeth, or so I hear."

Zelda disapproved of the Daily Prophet, but she did approve of Figaro trying at something.  They'd all been worried when he abandoned all pretense of carrying on the family business, not for the breaking of tradition but that he'd walked away from a safety net. It had only been a summer, but he did seem to be surviving.

"Comes round for a meal some Sundays," she added with a satisfied shrug.  Then a twinge in her left hand and a wave of numbness up her arm.

"But I won't bore you," she said hastily. She stood up and began tucking the case away, save an ample sample for Miranda's people.

"Owl me if you like it and we'll send it over."

Miranda couldn’t judge. Zelda’s oldest had finished school and jumped straight into a job, all be it for a newspaper. Miranda’s own daughter had come out of school and jumped straight into the arms of a no-good wizard who’d only gotten her pregnant. Zelda clearly had a good egg. Miranda? She had a girl who’d forever be an attention seeking teenager.

"But I won't bore you,"

Well, that was weird. Sellaphix had come to sell her goods but that could have been arranged via appointment and it hadn’t needed to be with Miranda herself. Now she was just getting up to leave? Miranda knew she was curt but surely not that much?

Beside her, Mira stood, frowning.
“Okay.” She said quickly. “Give me a week.” She was a busy lady.