More than three decades had passed since Hanna had last stepped into the magical hospital in Vienna and that now seemed like someone else's life.  She was filled with fascination as she stood in the corridor of St. Mungo's hospital and watched as the daily hustle and bustle past in front of her. 

Hospital receptions and waiting rooms all held many universals including the odd assortment of those with serious, though not urgent, injuries waiting about watching in alternating shifts of envy and morbid curiosity as other patients scuttled past, either for routine appointments or in need of urgent treatment.  The quiet, determined demeanor of those charged with their care also appeared completely analogous to the staff at University College Hospital, though Hanna was quite grateful that her day to day uniform consisted of scrubs and not robes.  The later seemed like it would be a constant source of annoyance, constantly flapping and falling into the way, open wounds or any assortment of bodily fluids. 

The woman she was scheduled to meet with, Hanna had been warned, was not as likely to acknowledge the analogies between their worlds.  She'd already been told Miranda Storm had likely never set foot in a medical facility and was unlikely to ever elect to do so; Storm did not see her non-magical counterparts as equals. 

Hanna was no stranger to the inflated egos of medicine; the field had a tendency to attract that type.  Even within her own hospital, the surgeons and orthopedics were always talking smack about the ER docs and everyone thought ophthalmologists were nutters for wanting to poke eyes all day.  She just hoped that a mutual desire to achieve better care for both of their patients would help bridge any gap between their world views. 

The office door behind her clicked open and Hanna turned to greet the woman behind the preformed reputation.  "Healer Storm, I presume?" she offered, extending the witch a hand.  "I'm Dr. Hanna Schäfer, attending physician from University College Hospital.  I've been looking forward to meet you; I've heard a lot about you."

A muggle doctor. Her next appointment was to meet with a muggle doctor. The letter had arrived, on crisp overly white and square paper. It was typed without the use of a type writer. The lettering was different. It was all very neat and muggle. Doctor Hanna Schäfer, a squib, and a muggle doctor, wanted to propose a scheme of help witches and wizards who ended up in muggle hospitals. They already had systems in place, but not the most robust. It was a challenge with the statute of secrecy. Miranda had, therefore, agreed to meet the squib who’d taken to slicing muggles up in the name of healing.

At the time of the planned meeting, Miranda finished her sandwich and threw the box in the bin under her desk. She stood and smoothed her skirt down. She wore her emerald and gold robes over the blouse and skirt. Wondering if the squib doctor had arrived yet, she made her way over to the office door and pulled it open. Her plan had been to ask her assistant. As it was, an unfamiliar woman span around and thrust her hand out.

Miranda’s dark gaze shot down to the hand. A hand, she presumed, that regularly held a miniature knife that she used to cut flesh with before sewing it back together with a needle and thread. All very bizarre. Despite her better judgement, the witch took the hand in her own cold one and gave it a shake.
“I’ve heard nothing about you, Doctor Schäfer.” She didn’t know whatever a physician was. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“Drinks please, Delilah.” Miranda stuck her head out to her long suffering assistant at the desk. “Are they still doing those snowman muffins?” It was still sort of the holiday season, wasn’t it?

“Think so, Miranda.”

“Two of them, too.” Miranda then stepped back and waved the squib inside. “Come in. Please, sit.” They didn’t go over to the desk. Instead, Miranda directed the pair to a sofa and a couple of armchairs around a coffee table. She sat in one of the armchairs. “Your letter was interesting. Odd parchment.”

"You haven't?" Surprise and a moment of uncertainty flickered across Hanna's expression.  Given their mutual acquaintance, Hanna had assumed Healer Storm would have heard something.  Unless the stories Hanna had heard were entirely true and not augmented by exaggeration, which was seeming more and more to be the case.  "Given our mutual acquaintance, I would have-"

Hanna caught herself and shook her head, slightly.  "Never mind that.  I apologize."  That was a matter which was only tangentially Hanna's business.  She shook her head, again, and stepped into the Healer's office, casting a curious glance around the space while the other woman asked for refreshments. 

"Parchment?" Hanna repeated with a slight grin, settling into one of the armchairs and folding her hands into her lap.  Sending an actual letter through the post office had felt archaic enough, especially since her first choice would have been email.  Hearing the letter compared to parchment seemed amusingly fanciful.  "I'm afraid we gave up on goat's hide quite some time ago.  Tri-folding them squarely was just near impossible and they have a terrible habit of jamming printers."  She offered a smile, just in case her tone didn't sufficiently convey the previous had been a joke. 

Despite the potential amusement, it was a similar disparity to the problem that had brought Hanna to this office.  "As I mentioned, I've been trying to develop a system to recognize when individuals from your world are dropped off on our doorstep.  Most of the time, I understand they can find their way to ... here."  Which was fortunate; Hanna rather liked diagnostics that generally made sense at the end of the day. 

"But, the incident last month demonstrates a significant loophole when it comes to unconscious patients.  A witch would have found her way into our surgery suites if she didn't happen to have an acquaintance with a mobile phone number - which is not a common enough occurrence, from what I understand.  And, her laboratory results would have found their way into the British Medical Journal by spring."