Chapter Text
January 1964
Elphinstone carefully folded the Sunday edition of The Prophet, making sure that yesterday’s quidditch results would be in full view, then tucked the paper under his arm. He began humming to himself as he levitated a tea tray up the stairs, despite the cold and miserable January day outside. In his mind he was back on the island of Aeaea, breakfasting with Minerva on their joint terrace in the sunshine. What a fabulous idea of theirs it had been, even if he did say so himself. A bit of winter sun had done them both the world of good just after Christmas, especially after the events of last year.
He was brought back to the present by a loud squeak. Elphinstone looked down to see he had stepped on an abandoned stuffed dragon that must have been left by one of the hoard of nieces and nephews that had visited yesterday. It had been lovely to meet them all but goodness he had been grateful to wave them off with their parents at the end of the day. Both he and Minerva had collapsed into their beds, exhausted, just after nine o’clock and despite the fact he had a good twenty five years on her she was still fast asleep even now.
“Did somebody call for room service?” Elphinstone knocked on the door which stood slightly ajar, and took that to mean he was allowed entry.
He lowered the tray onto the dresser and drew back the curtains to allow in the meagre January light.
“I know we have plenty of time before the match but I thought we could pop in on Lancelot first, pick him up on the way so to speak. You’ve not been to his place yet, have you? We’ll need to get a bit of a wiggle on if so. Although…” Elphinstone shook out the folded newspaper with a flourish, brandishing the article on how the Arrows had absolutely demolished her Magpies the day before and cleared his throat. “Ahem. You do have time for a little light reading over breakfast in bed first. Minerva?”
At first glance Minerva had appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but now that he was standing over her Elphinstone noticed just how flushed she looked and how shallow her breathing was. He dropped the paper and placed the back of his hand to her forehead. She was burning up and clammy to the touch.
“Minerva, love, can you wake up for me? Minerva?” he asked, shaking her gently.
She mumbled something incoherently and it took a moment or two for her red-rimmed eyes to flutter open and she winced at the light.
“Cold ー”
She said more but it was the only word Elphinstone could make out.
“I think you’re feverish, love. You feel really hot.” But even as he said that he could see her shivering violently under the covers. “Alright, let me get you another blanket and some pepper-up. We’ll have you right as rain in no time.”
He tucked her in and went to raid his potion cabinet. It was always the same he thought; a week back teaching and the little brats had passed all their germs around the school until the castle was brimming with coughs and colds and poxes. He sorted through the vials of indigestion solution and sleeping draughts until he found a dusty bottle of pepper-up potion. It was the last one left; he’d have to send Daisy out for some more in the morning.
“Right, Minerva. Can you sit up a bit for me, I’ve got your potion here.”
It was a sign of how poorly she must be feeling that she didn’t complain as he expected, but instead swallowed without argument. It was nasty stuff but it usually did the trick. He gently moved her plait away from where it had been plastered to her sweaty neck as steam rose from her ears.
“I’ll floo Lancelot, let him know we’re not going to make it today. I’m sure he has a lady friend or two who will make good use of our tickets.” He chuckled, but her eyes had already closed again. “Ah, ah ー don’t go back to sleep just yet. You need to keep your fluids up. And I brought toast and marmalade too if you can face it.”
She looked thoroughly miserable as she shook her head and tried to burrow deeper into the pillow. “No toast,” she muttered.
“Alright, how about some grapefruit? I had some for my breakfast. Or porridge?”
Minerva shook her head again and groaned, her hand shakily coming up to massage her temple. “Sorry for ruining your plans. Not being a very good guest, am I?”
“Now, now, none of that. Just think about our wonderful trip up Mount Circeo.” He poured her a cup of tea and perched on the side of the bed as she sipped at it. “It was so liberating, didn’t you find, being on an entirely magical island. Do you remember that fishwife chasing after me, trying to sell me a hippocampus in a tank to bring back as a souvenir?”
She smiled weakly at the memory. “I think we both got a more permanent souvenir than that.”
“Don’t remind me! I still can’t believe we did that.”
“Your fault,” she said, her words slurring slightly. She handed back her half-finished cup before snuggling back under the blankets. “Should know better than to dare me.”
“I know that now,” he replied gently, reaching out to brush some stray hairs away before deciding better of it. “Try and get some sleep, let the potion kick in. Do you think I should owl your brothers and let them know in case the kids come down with something? Or maybe you’ve picked up this bug from them.”
“I’ll speak… them… later,” she murmured as she drifted off, her voice hoarse.
“Sweet dreams, love,” he whispered as he sat and watched her for a moment. She really didn’t look well at all and was breathing quite rapidly. Perhaps he would ask Lancelot to pop by after the match, if it finished early enough before Minerva was due back at the castle. She wouldn’t like it, he knew, but she would have to listen to him at least. That was just one of the perks of having a healer for a cousin.
He got up quietly and pulled the curtains together, just in case the sun broke through the mist that had settled. The view from the guest room was almost as spectacular as his own, with the lighthouse of Portland Bill to the west and nothing else but sea. They had spent the whole day out there rock pooling and beachcombing with the children yesterday, with only a picnic from Daisy and multiple warming charms to keep them going. Perhaps Minerva had simply caught a chill; she always did feel the cold Elphinstone had found. He frowned at that. This seemed worse than a common old garden cold though, whatever it was.
Elphinstone tiptoed out of the room and went downstairs to make his floo call. Lancelot, as it turned out, had already left for the quidditch game but his house elf Flora had promised to pass on the message. It was a shame, he thought as he pulled on his wellington boots. He had been looking forward to seeing the Broadmoor brothers back from suspension for his Falcons, but it couldn’t be helped. Minerva always came first in his book. Besides, this gave him the opportunity to dig over his vegetable patch, a task he had been putting off for long enough.