Late evening

“I’ve got half a mind to respond to that letter informin’ the school you won’t be goin’ to Hogwarts, Noah Pratt!” The tall wizard harshly informed the young boy stood in the corner of the small curtained cubicle, arms crossed over his chest and a pout his mother would have been proud of plastered upon his young face. He wasn’t looking at his angry Dad, he was looking at the various potions and vials adorning a small trolley by the head of the bed where his father was sat.

In Edward Pratt’s arms was his 7 year old daughter. He sat on the edge of the bed, feet anchored against the floor as he held the little girl close, her head buried into his chest and body still shaking with tears.

“It hurts, Daddy.” She whimpered against her father’s chest and clutched her arms tighter around his shirt covered torso. The small dark haired girl wore a pair of what had been crisp white trousers and a jumper. The trousers were now covered in grass strains and blood. Tied haphazardly around the leg was a makeshift bandage formed from a tea towel Ed had taken in his panic to help his little girl as she’d screamed in pain thanks to the son that had recently acquired his favourite new ‘toy’, his first wand.

Running a hand down Nastasha’s back, Ed frowned and rested his chin upon the soft hair topping her head. “Mmmm I know darling. Not for much longer. The healer will be here in a minute. I promise.” Green eyes shot to the curtain in hopes of one finally gracing their cubicle after a half an hour wait. An excruciating half an hour wait. Eddie could handle his own pain; he injured himself too often to worry about it anymore. But hearing one of his children cry just tore his heart out. Edward Pratt would have done anything for his children.

“Ye’ll be givin’ that wand to me as soon as yer sister’s alright, lad.” Pratt glanced over at his son, his expression plainly informing the scowling soon to be teenager that this was not over and that he was in big trouble. “I don’t even want to know what yer mam’s gonna’ have to say about this when she finds out.”

The evening shift had begun at its expected pace. Vivienne made her rounds in the wards and spent some time in the canteen, taking notes on all the patients who were now on various types of sedatives. Altogether an uneventful evening, which was always a good thing on the fourth floor. She was just leaving the Janus Thickey ward through a set of double doors when one of the medi-witches, wielding a clipboard, called out her name from the other end of the corridor.

"Healer Thorpe," said the short witch as she tottered up to her, "Do you have time for an outpatient?"

Viv habitually accepted the clipboard, smiling obligingly: "Unfortunately, I always do," her eyes shifted down to the papers and, involuntarily, widened: "Pratt? Natasha Pratt?"

"Little girl, minor wand damage. You do so well with the children."

Her colleague disappeared down the passageway without another word, probably off to find more Healers to deal with tonight's incoming injuries before the reception staff were overwhelmed. Vivienne headed in the direction of the treatment wards, distractedly perusing the patient sheet as she walked. Seven years old, minor leg damage. Accompanied by parent. Which parent, though?

The answer to that question became apparent as Viv approached the wards and, much to her chagrine, heard a gratingly familiar sound come from the cubicle to the far right: “I don’t even want to know what yer mam’s gonna’ have to say about this when she finds out.” It had been over a month since she had experienced the unequaled pleasure of being around Auror Ed Pratt but that voice was unmistakable.

Vivienne paused infront of the white curtains, relaxing the frown that had jumped onto her face and reminding herself that she was here to heal somebody, not bicker with an idiot. An idiot who was apparently a father; that was unexpected. With one swift gesture, she pulled open the curtains and pulled her lips into a warm, friendly smile: "Good evening. Sorry to keep you waiting, Mister Pratt." Noticing the two little people in the space, it seemed to Viv that she was destined to treat the entire line of Pratts.

The Healer closed the curtains behind her before turning around; she nodded at Ed. He looked... different. She wasn't sure if it was the ward lighting or the fact that he was holding on to a small child. Whatever it was, Vivienne couldn't bring herself to feel her typical sense of dissatisfaction for aurors-- she could only look at her patient now, the girl. Who was simply adorable: "Why hello there," she greeted Ed Pratt's unexpectedly delightful offspring: "You must be Natasha."

The curtain finally opened and Eddie’s heart sank. He hadn’t seen this witch since she’d very rudely informed him of her dislike for him. When he’d simply stood, bid her farewell and left, hoping to never have to deal with the rude witch again. Yet here she was, cloaked in lime green and approaching him and Natasha with a welcoming smile. The well practiced smile of a healer used to dealing with children.

Viv made an apology to Ed, returning to formal professionalism like he had at the end of their last meeting, and she greeted the girl who was presently gripping onto her Dad like if she let go she would be kidnapped by evil dragons. The red tear stricken face of his oldest daughter shyly twisted away from the cubicle’s newest inhabitant and pressed further into Eddie’s chest, dampening the shirt with her tears.

Sighing, Eddie leaned back slightly, away from his daughter’s head and looked down at her. “Tash,” he muttered quietly “the healer said hello.”

From the corner of the cubicle, Noah butted in “Stop being a baby, Natasha.  It’s only a scratch”. The boy said nothing more, having been silenced with simply a look thrown over his sister’s head from his dad.

The green eyes shot from the sulking 11 year old to look up at Vivienne Thorpe. “She’s tired and shy.” He muttered as the little girl also peered up at the healer with vivid blue blood shot eyes. “I did what I could with the leg but I only know the basics to stop bleedin’ and such.”

It was both her greatest weakness and strength that Vivienne Thorpe practicallymelted when she was around children. She had seen her stepbrothers grow from little babies into full-fledged wizards and more than anything in the world, she thought that children were the best embodiment of human character. They exhibited a patent capacity to be infinitely good or, she now followed Ed's glare at his son, infinitely evil.

“I did what I could with the leg but I only know the basics to stop bleedin’ and such,” said the wizard as Viv turned back to meet Natasha's gaze with her own calm, untroubled eyes. What an adorable little sweetheart. How was it possible for such a creature to be related to that terrible auror? A joke of genes.

"As long as the bleeding has stopped, we should be fine for now..." Gently, she reached out and placed the back of her hand against the patient's forehead. A little warm but not feverish; always the possibility of infection, untreated wand damage.

Withdrawing her hand and smiling sweetly, Vivienne addressed the girl in a soft voice: "You must be very tired, Natasha. Do you want to lay down while I look at your leg?" She glanced up to at Ed cordially: "Your daddy can hold your hand if you want. Don't worry... I promise it won't hurt much, oui?"

At least Vivienne was not taking her dislike for Eddie out on his baby girl. If she was there would have been hell to pay. An overprotective father trained to kill dangerous wizards was a treacherous thing to rile. Luckily that instinct that seemed to take control of every woman when faced with a young child took over. She placed a hand upon his daughter’s forehead and addressed the little girl with a tone Pratt was thoroughly surprised she was able.

Natasha pulled back slightly from Ed’s chest and looked up to him for that fatherly reassurance. Ed’s lips twisted into a small smile and he nodded. “Come on, lass.” He heaved himself up from the bed, small girl in his arms and plonked her on the edge of the bed were she sat legs dangling down. A set of lips pressed against her forehead and his large hand smoothed his young one’s brown curly hair back from her face.

In the background Noah had found an interest in the potions sat on the trolley. He’d wandered unnoticed towards it and started picking them up, lifting them to his eyes and giving them a shake.

“Squeeze as hard as ye can, Tash.” The auror quietly told his daughter, offering his large hand to the child to take and stepping closer to the bed. “See if ye can brake yer old pa’s fingers.” His smile grew slightly. “Noah’ll be jealous o’that one, love.”

Begrudgingly, one had to admit that Ed Pratt was beginning to come across as a very affectionate father.

Vivienne watched with a fond expression as he set down the girl, all the time talking to her reassuringly in a low voice. When Natasha was settled, one hand holding tightly onto her father's much sturdier digits, they were in a better position to deal with the problem. The Healer gave her patient a quick, comforting look and then leaned over to very gradually lift the leg that had been braced by a bloody tea towel. In the corner of her eye, she noted the boy by the potions trolley, but left him be to concentrate on her work.

The towel was delicately unwrapped and placed aside. Viv drew out her wand and methodically used its tip to move aside threads of a damaged trouser cuff, revealing a raw wound on the shin. It was neither deep nor extensive but the edges of the injury were an odd shade of... orange. She frowned, gingerly touching the edge and then pulling her hand back in mild surprise. It was hot. Her gaze lifted up briefly to ensure that Natasha wasn't feeling giddy and then to give the concerned father a pointed look: "Tough little girl you have here, Ed. She's holding up very well."

Naturallement, she didn't want to say exactly what the damage was in front of the children. It would probably panic the girl to know that the laceration was burning itself into a larger wound; or, well, it would panic Ed. Vivienne turned back to the leg, her one arm holding it up steadily and her other wielding the wand. She unhurriedly traced the injury, murmuring to herself as the orange edges flickered brightly for a second and then died down into a dull, crimson shade. That would stop the burning.

The witch flicked her wand and straightened herself, leaving Natasha's leg floating at an angle so that she had both hands free: "I think it must feel a little better now," Viv told the little girl and then, without turning around to check on their stock of potions, said to Ed: "If your son could maybe pass me the bright blue bottle he was looking at earlier, I can start on cleaning her leg."

What was it with little boys and breakable objects?

As the tea towel was removed from around the young girl’s leg, Eddie felt his daughter’s fingers tighten in his own and he gave a reassuring squeeze, for his own sake as much as hers. The eyes of both father and daughter were keenly watching the healer lift the leg and pull the shreds of trouser that covered the wound.

And when he saw the wound again? Eddie’s face lost all colour and he paled considerably while his 7 year old daughter continued to diligently watch and stare at her wound with wide eyed interest, the tears seeming to have ceased. That was until the healer’s fingers touched the wound and the little girl let out a gasp, screwing her small features up and biting her lip. Eddie put his spare hand on his daughter’s back and rubbed it slowly.

He wasn’t good with blood at the best of times. Normally when it was his own injuries, his own wounds, Edward was absolutely fine to deal with it. His pain threshold had certainly risen since starting his job many years ago. But seeing blood on other people was horrible, especially looking at such a wound on his daughter’s tiny leg and watching her whimper in pain. It was every father’s nightmare.

“Better than her father.” The auror responded quietly to Thorpe. His eyes once more flashed from his daughter to the wound and his brows furrowed. “It didn’t look like that when I wrapped it up, Viv.” The worried tone peppered his words but not enough so cause alarm for the kids. Or Eddie hoped at least.

Vivienne mentioned Noah and Ed twisted around to see his son shaking a bottle of viscous black liquid in front of his eyes. “Noah, put that down, lad. Do what the healer says.” And with a sulky sigh, Noah replaced the black vial, grabbed the blue one and ambled reluctantly  back to the trio at the bed.

“Whoah!” The eleven year old stared in awe at his sister’s orange bleeding wound. “Looks like yer leg’s gonna’ fall off, Tash. I ‘eard-” Noah was cut short by a heavy hand landing on his shoulder and the reprimanding tone of his father as the auror simply said “Noah...”

Vivienne didn't bat an eyelid at Ed's worried tone when he informed her that the leg hadn't looked as such when he was wrapping it. Internally however, she made a note of the fact. Whatever had hit Natasha, it was a nasty and messy piece of work. Odd, how some of the worst cases of spell damage arose mostly through accident.

Noah Pratt reminded Viv a little of her stepbrothers; to an extent, all young boys were very similar to one another. Many of them were fascinated by injuries, for example. The Healer pressed her lips together, suppressing an amused smile as Ed reproached his son in a tone that might have sent your average criminal running away. She was surprised that it had never occurred to her, picturing him as a father. It was hard to reconcile with the version of him she'd met in the Leaky Cauldron last month.

"Merci," she murmured to both Noah and Ed as she took the blue bottle from the former. A fine muslin cloth was procured from the table drawer next to the bed and Vivienne folded it up neatly before giving Natasha a kind look: "Now this is going to hurt a little. I want you to be a brave girl for me and hold on tightly to your daddy's hand, alright? It won't take long, I promise."

With a methodical air, she corked open the blue bottle and drizzled the clear cleansing solution onto the leg. That was the easy part. Once enough of the solution had coated the wound (drops of it dribbled down the leg), Viv began to wipe along the edges of it. Muslin cloths were gentle exfoliators but exfoliating the scabbed skin off an open injury was not a gentle feeling in the least bit and she tried hard not to wince at any of her patient's whimpers or gasps. This was necessary; the once-orange edges had to removed.

Finally, after an excruciating few seconds, Vivienne stopped and put the bloodied fabric aside: "There. All clean now," she smiled to herself with satisfaction and then explained briefly to Ed: "It was infected by a scorching hex." With the magic undone and its scabs cleared, there seemed nothing amiss in saying so out loud. If the auror knew anything about hexes, which he very well should, then he'd know the wound had been eating at itself for a while. Poor thing.

Viv glanced at Noah, as though to check he were still in one place, and then at his sister: "How does that feel now, Natasha?"

Watching the ordeal had been almost as bad as it was for Natasha going through it. Pain was common place for those in Eddie’s career but he could have sworn he felt far more pain watching his baby girl going through this than when he himself was ever at the hands of a healer. It was a great relief to both father and daughter when the procedure was completed.

Noah continued to stare at his sister’s leg in awe. Natasha sniffed, screwing her tiny features up to bravely breathe through the pain and be strong like her Daddy. Eddie looked across to Vivienne frowning as she informed him what the cause of the wound and its strange colour had been.

It only took a moment to realise what that had meant for Natasha. And it took simply another moment to decide what it would mean for Noah. Thorpe turned her attention back to Natasha and Eddie let go of his daughter’s hand, rounding on the lad stood just behind him. Young green eyes shot up to meet a matching, angrier pair and Noah Pratt took an uneasy step back. A hand was roughly placed on his shoulder and he was quickly guided back further towards the curtain.

The imposing father figure bent down to be face to face with his son and Eddie held his spare hand out, still holding tightly to Noah’s shirt shoulder. “Hand it over.” The movement from the young boy was quick. His hand shot into his jean pocket and the wand was dropped into Ed’s hand, where his fingers tightly closed around it.

Whilst this occurred in the corner of the cubicle, Natasha used the sleeve of her pink jumper to rub away the tears on her face. She sniffed and looked down at the leg that simply seemed to sting a little. Maybe now her leg wasn’t going to fall off.
“Will I have a scar Mrs Healer?” She asked quietly, the shyness seeming to ebb away to reveal the normal, talkative little girl. “Daddy has lots of scars and Noah says they’re really cool.” And the talking didn’t seem to stop. “Do you know my Daddy? You called him Ed. Only his friends call him that. But I think that’s silly because he’s called Daddy. You’re really pretty. Like a princess.”

Adult patients often had subtle, complex ways of expressing their relief after a treatment. They sighed or made odd gestures or self-consciously thanked their Healers. Young patients were generally easier to read and Vivienne knew that Natasha's wound was feeling much better when the little girl launched into an endless, wonderfully articulate one-sided conversation. It was too cute for words.

“Will I have a scar Mrs Healer? Daddy has lots of scars and Noah says they’re really cool. Do you know my Daddy? You called him Ed. Only his friends call him that. But I think that’s silly because he’s called Daddy. You’re really pretty. Like a princess.”

The witch nodded with all the expressive attentiveness of an interested listener as Ed Pratt pulled his son away to have what she hoped was a stern word with the boy. Being called Mrs Healer was a little much though and she realized that she had been too distracted earlier to even introduce herself to her patient, which was the norm. Distracted by the auror, she recollected dryly.

Leaning against the bed and facing Natasha slightly, Viv smiled in response to all those questions: "Why thank you, I think you're very pretty too-- even prettier than a princess, in fact," she tapped the child's nose sweetly: "But you'll only have a small scar, unlike your daddy's ones. I have a leg scar too, you know."

Vivienne bent her own knee, lifting it a little forward and pulling up the hem of her green robes to reveal a very thin scar running along the outside of her calf to her thigh: "See? Your brother is right, they're very cool because it means that you're a very brave person. Just like Ed and me." The Healer hoped that he didn't hear that bit-- she was trying to avoid answering whether she knew him; Auror Pratt and Daddy Pratt seemed like two different people. Viv dropped the hem and added: "You can call me Vivi, oui?"

Anything without a Mrs was fine by her, at this rate.

“Yer not gonna tell mum are ye, Dad?” The young boy pleaded with his father as Eddie slipped the wand he’d been given into the back pocket of his jeans, something he’d always been advised against but always did anyway when not wearing robes. “She’ll be really mad, Dad. You can’t tell her.” The words received a simple grunt from the older wizard as he stood up straighter.

“And she’ll crucify me.” The auror muttered, folding his arms and looking down at the lad, his expression still revealing great displeasure and disappointment in his son. “You really hurt yer sister and that could have been worse, lad...” And the auror continued to berate the young boy, making sure he was well aware of the dangers and the fact he would not be getting his wand returned until he was about to step on the Hogwarts Express.

Natasha had been staring in awe at the scar before her before the pretty lady dropped the robes once more to conceal it. She looked down at her much smaller scar on her much smaller leg and pursed her lips together in thought as deep as was possible for a seven year old. After a few moments, the little girl’s head snapped up, sending dark curls flying into the air.

“Daddy!” she shouted, causing Ed to turn around and Noah to sigh in relief. “I’m going to have a scar like yours. Mrs Healer just showed me hers! She’s really pretty don’t you think, Daddy? Like a princess! And she says I’m a princess too. You should show her yours!” The little girl looked at Vivienne, grinning. “They’re really cool, Vivi!”

The colour drained from Eddie’s face and instead of looking angry or worried he now looked rather uncomfortable.

For such a tiny creature, Natasha Pratt had quite the set of lungs on her. A family characteristic, maybe.

Vivienne nearly jumped back when she called out to her father with far more enthusiasm any one person should have on the subject of scars. "...she says I’m a princess too. You should show her yours!” Before anyone could interject a protest, the patient turned her head of curls: "They’re really cool, Vivi!”

It wasn't unusual for children to be so unreservedly proud of their parents, though Viv was caught off guard by the insistence and involuntarily blushed: "Oh, I'm sure they're very cool," she reassured Natasha before glancing hesitantly at Ed. Mon dieu, the wizard did not look comfortable with the idea at all. It was almost funny. Pressing her lips together to suppress a laugh, the Healer looked back at the little girl: "But we should probably finish healing your leg now, non?"

Oh, thank Merlin for the distraction of work. Vivienne quite liked scars but she wasn't so sure if Mrs.Pratt would like it for her husband to be showing his off to a-- she broke off that line of thought and shifted her grey gaze back to the auror, suddenly understanding why she never pictured him as a father. No ring.

"Aah... do you want to hold Natasha's hand again Ed? It won't hurt much this time," Viv asked, though she was frowning thoughtfully at him now. Divorced parents; the witch was reminded of her own mother and father. As she brought out her wand again and turned to her patient, she felt a little sorry for the children. And even a little sorry for Ed.

Eddie had to hand it to Vivienne, she knew how to distract a seven year old child and get back to the task at hand. He offered her a tiny smile as a silent means of thanking her before leaving his relieved son stood near the curtains and approaching Natasha and Viv. He took the little girl’s hand and stood beside her next to the bed.

“Natasha’s very...talkative when she gets going.” He muttered, eyeing his daughter carefully before looking back at the leg and frowning slightly. It still didn’t look too healthy and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to when it came to time to explain why they had spent the evening on the fourth floor of the hospital. And Quincy would be furious he hadn’t brought Natasha to her. She was training to be a healer after all...but she’d just panic. Eddie knew it.

Tash tightly squeezed Eddie’s hand and looked up at him. “Are you two friends then?” She happily demanded. With his spare hand, Eddie uncomfortable brushed his fingers through his shaggy hair.

“Well er...” His eyes fell on Viv and he distinctly remembered their last meeting. Certainly not friends. She didn’t seem to want friends. “Acquaintances.”

The little girl’s features screwed up in confusion? “What does that mean, Daddy?”
“We’ve met.”
“Wheeeeeere?”
“Never you mind.”
“She’s very pretty Daddy.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t you think, Daddy?
“Well um...yes.”
“I think so. Like a princess.” The little girl grinned at Vivienne. “Do you have a prince Mrs Healer?”

Vivienne Thorpe was beginning to wonder if Ed was waiting for the ground to simply swallow him up and take him away from this scene. She tried not to look up from her patient or the leg as father and daughter went on with their little exchange of words. It was beyond adorable, of course, but nothing could dispel the awkwardness between the two adults right now. Viv remained silent in her smile and wished she could throw her head back to laugh out loud.

"Don't you think, Daddy?" Natasha insisted as the Healer touched her wand lightly against the wound, its tip shedding a luminous green glow. The edges of the injury began to smoothen and contract at a gentle rate.
"Well, um... yes." Ed's tone came across as vaguely strangled and Vivienne looked up at his face briefly, clearly more amused by this than she imagined he'd like.
"I think so. Like a princess," concluded his daughter wisely. The area around the injury wasn't very red now and a smooth, though slightly marked, layer of skin begin to expand over the healing flesh.

Then, as Viv began to distance her wand from the leg, Natasha turned to her with a cute grin: "Do you have a prince Mrs Healer?" The witch tried not to look surprised by this and pulled away from the wound. It was healing on its own now, almost entirely healed but for a short and thin scar where the injury was closing up.

She regarded the child, diverted: "I used to have one, a very long time ago," Vivienne told her in the same tone one would use to tell a fairy tale: "But it was never meant to be and I ran away from him. Like a heroine, not a princess." The witch's grey gaze met with her patient's blue eyes and she smiled warmly. "Don't worry, though... it was a happy ending."

Standing straight, Viv put away her wand and looked to Ed with a calm expression. He made a much better father than he did a... whatever he was at the Leaky Cauldron: "She's adorable, Ed. Her leg is fine now but I can get you some balm for the scar, it's going to feel a little itchy for a few weeks."

As Vivienne responded to what could be a rather awkward question, Pratt regarded her thoughtfully. Obviously it had been said in such a whimsical way to enrapture his young innocent daughter but Ed was fairly certain her words were awfully telling. Heroines (not princesses), running away from the prince and a believed happy ending all rather enraptured the father in his early thirties as well as the 7 year old girl.

“And now she gets to heal princesses everyday.” The auror said, bending down to be face to face with his daughter. “Does it feel better now?” The little girl grinned and nodded and Ed picked her up, plonking her on the floor. “Noah’s got something to tell ye, Tash.” He gave her a small push in the direction of his son before focusing his attention on the healer.

Natasha scooted towards Noah, her arms crossed and looking sternly, yet expectantly at her brother, the very picture of her mother when she was about to reprimand her father. Sometimes kids were too similar to their parents.

“Too adorable” Came a muttered response as Pratt crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the edge of the bed where Natasha had been sat. “So...Mrs Healer, nice little fairy tale ye told there.” A grin started to tug at the corners of his lips. “Ye left out the evil stepmam and the prince that made yer endin’ happy afterwards, mind.”