This was rotten luck, he knew, and he should have foreseen it. They were, after all, visiting his sick aunt. There was a chance that one of them would be exposed to whatever made her ill. But Emmeline’s symptoms progressed far worse than his dear aunt’s. June was experiencing pains from the chemotherapy- Emmeline’s initial stomach problems mimicked June’s own nausea. But Emme soon became more affected by some sort of cold. Many times a day, Kirby had strolled out into the village, his hands pushed deep into his pocket, to fetch her a different medicine. They had been managing.
And then she had the rash.
Kirby knew his options were narrowing and he felt himself forced more and more towards paying St. Mungo’s a visit. He had casually mentioned it while washing up for dinner. “Oh no,” Emme had said. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be better tomorrow.” She said that for three days. And then one day, it took Kirby an hour to wake her up. Something was terribly wrong, and the muggle medicines were not working on the pureblood Russian heiress. He should have realized- she was practically royalty, how could her system take anything but the best.
Emmeline was loaded into the Gullwing, protesting that all she needed was square meal and Kirby was being stupid. He drove her to St. Mungo’s and quieted her by describing the plot of a play their Greek friend Demetri had sent him. Demetri was an avid dramatist and playwright and Emmeline was incredibly fond of his thoughts. The sickness had kept her from being able to read, however, so she sat quietly and soaked in Kirby’s words.
He parked the car and helped her out, entering St. Mungo’s with a little difficulty (it had been a long time, after all.) Inside, he went straight to the receptionist and told her the symptoms. “Yeah, yeah, her and a dozen others.” Kirby blinked. “She has been out of the country, she could not have picked it up from them. I still want her checked in.” He realized this would be an expensive visit, he was sure. He might end up having to dip into Gerald’s funds, something he hated.
He turned to look at Emmeline and saw that she had fallen asleep in her chair, slumped slightly, pouty lips open just slightly. The girl was gorgeous, and a few men glanced at her, giving Kirby his cue to press the receptionist for help. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll call someone down. It’s on your dime.” Kirby nodded and headed back for Emmeline, who had slid onto the next chair. He placed his satchel on the seat next to her and sat at the seat next to that.
Waiting.