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The third floor of St. Mungo's was generally filled with too-curious children who'd gotten their hands on a questionable greenhouse plant or one of their parents' potions from storage.
Young children.
Ones who didn't know any better.
The types who couldn't yet read or grasp that not everything was meant for eating and tasting and touching.
The floor was reserved for potion mishaps and plant poisonings.
Still, Healer Sebastian Sallow was not wholly surprised when he took the chart off the door to his exam room for the day to read his patient's name. Of course, he recognized it, seeing as this was a particularly frequent visitor to his hospital, and one who generally requested him as her Healer each time she landed herself in a predicament.
Sighing heavily, he opened the door to the room, already shaking his head in exasperation while he looked up to see one of his oldest and most reckless friends perched uncomfortably on the bed, looking pale and sweaty while she clutched at her stomach.
"What have you done now, you silly thing?" He asked, sympathy for her already waning when she shot him her signature cheeky grin.
"Glad to see you're on duty today, Sebastian! I wasn't sure who to expect when the nurse ignored me after I'd asked for you by name." She told him pleasantly.
He flipped through her chart, scanning the summary of her complaints that the triage nurse had scribbled down.
"Likely because she recognized you by now as the reason for my ceaseless headaches. It says here you believe you've been poisoned? How?" He demanded, tossing the chart onto the counter and sinking into the seat beside her bed.
Skin pale and clammy, and shivering despite the ambient warmth of the room, he masked the concern bubbling in his chest by fixing a perpetually annoyed look at her.
"Er… accidentally?" She said weakly.
The glare her shot her made her wither, and prompted a further explanation.
"Well, you see, I was cooking breakfast and wanted to add some fresh herbs to my eggs. I have a rather nice herb garden out back, as you're no doubt aware."
He nodded curtly - he'd been over to visit several times since she'd moved into her little country cottage after graduation. While a bit untamed and overgrown, she did take pleasure in keeping a garden during the summer months.
"And?"
"And… well, I thought I'd picked some oregano. As I was eating my omelet, however, it tasted a bit funny, and…" She trailed off, looking equal parts sickly and humiliated.
The color in her face was draining by the second, and Sebastian was beginning to feel impatient. All her stalling and stuttering was wasting precious little time that she clearly did not have.
Recalling a few of her more questionable choices in the kitchen the few times he'd endured a dinner with her, he held back a cringe. "Oh, gods… what did you consume?"
"Well, it wasn't oregano, that's for certain. As I recall, I never actually planted any this year. A weed of some sort must have taken up residence in the herb pot I'd been using for the oregano the past few years and I plucked it out of habit - I was still sleepy at the time. It tasted a bit… lemony." She explained before pulling a wilted plant from her pocket and holding it out for him to inspect. "I'm not actually sure what it is, but I began to feel ill rather quickly after my first fateful bite."
He stared in disbelief before snatching the plant from her shaking hand. "A bit lemony? How much did you eat?! You said the first bite - you threw it away after it tasted off, right?"
She remained quiet, afraid to answer him as his agitation grew.
"You threw it away - right?" He leaned closer to her, speaking through gritted teeth.
He knew the answer. She knew he knew the answer.
"Waste not want not?" She squeaked out, wincing slightly from what would surely be another spectacular lecture from her Healer friend. "There was about a sprig's worth in the entire thing."
Sebastian leaned back in his chair with a frustrated groan, running a hand down his face. "Of course you ate the entire thing. Why are you like this?"
Holding the mangled herb sprig in front of him, he knew instantly what it was, as much as he loathed being right this time. He almost couldn't bring himself to be annoyed with her.
Almost.
"You absolute idiot. Are you serious? Belladonna?!" He scolded her, torn between wanting to throttle and coddle her while she rapidly deteriorated in front of him.
A spark of recognition dawns on her features. "Ah! Deadly Nightshade, yes? I remember that from Herbology - "
"Deadly Nightshade - which, as you can ascertain, is pretty damn deadly. And you ate a sprig of it. And called it a bit lemony." He continued chewing her out, shaking the drying greenery in front of her to prove his point.
She gave him another bashful grin and asked, "So, what might be your expert Healer advice on how not to die?
"My expert Healer advice is to not eat weeds, you insufferable troll. As for treatment, I'll be prescribing you a healthy dose of common sense. Now lie back before you pass out onto the floor, and I have to treat a head injury, and you give yourself a more damaged brain than you're already carrying around." He snapped sharply before pushing her back onto the bed and stalking over toward the cabinets, rifling through them to find the proper tinctures and powders he needed to treat her toxicity.
Muttering angrily to himself, he ground a few mistletoe berries and a bezoar in a mortar and pestle, taking his anger out on the innocent antidote ingredients rather than wringing the neck of the woman behind him.
After a tense few minutes of crushing and mixing the solution while he cursed his friend under his breath, Sebastian spun around with a jar of viscous, gray syrup and held it up to her.
"Drink." He ordered flatly.
"Are you this nice to all your patients, or am I just getting special treatment because we're friends?" She asked chipperly, contrasting severely with her declining physical state.
She made no move to take the jar, instead eyeing it warily while she stalled for time - it looked and smelled like it tasted rancid, and they both knew it.
"This is why I can't stand treating my friends." He grumbled under his breath. "You'll eat a weed from your garden, but you won't drink my potion?"
She held his gaze quietly, looking like she might either run away or pass out trying. Her lips were beginning to pale like the rest of her, and he was done allowing her to idle and waste valuable treatment time.
With little warning, he grabbed her firmly by the chin and forced her to stay looking directly at him as he tilted the jar up to her lips.
"Drink it, you stubborn wench." He demanded.
She let out a little yelp in surprise but recovered enough to swallow the syrup instead of allowing it to dribble down her chin. The very last thing she needed would be for Sebastian to harp on her for not even being able to drink properly.
After what felt like a miserable eternity of being force-fed medicine like a child, Sebastian seemed satisfied with the amount she'd choked down and released his grip on her, setting the mostly-empty container on the bedside tray.
Grimacing, she wiped her mouth in disgust. "That tasted fucking vile."
"I care?" He smirked down at her, delighting in the fact that perhaps the unpleasant taste of the potion needed to save her life might deter her from eating strange plants again like some sort of goat.
"You could have at least mixed in some honey!" She argued back indignantly.
In his best impression of her, he clutched at his stomach and spoke in a high-pitched voice, "Oh, it's so bitter and rancid! I'd rather eat deathcaps and aconite!""
"Oh, piss off." She groused, smirking reluctantly at his, admittedly, fairly good impression of her voice.
"And what did we learn today?" He asked condescendingly.
"To request a different Healer next time I'm in - considering now I'll get to live long enough to make even more stupid choices." She replied insolently.
Sebastian nearly chewed her out again, but the relief he felt upon seeing the color return to her face so quickly stole much of his earlier frustration.
"Unfortunately for the both of us, I intend to be the only Healer who suffers the distinct privilege of saving your life every time you do something reckless. I'm starting to believe you're trying to die." He sighed, tidying up the makeshift potion station he'd turned the exam room into. "A bit of gratitude for saving your life for the umpteenth time would be nice."
"Well, as thanks for looking after me yet again, would it be in poor taste if I invited you over for dinner this evening? I'll cook something non-toxic for you after your shift to make up for your suffering." She offered helpfully, already starting to get up from the cot as she prepared to leave.
He stared at her in disbelief.
"No. No more dinners made by someone who consumes mystery weeds. I'm taking you out for a dinner date - the only thanks I want is for you to be dressed, ready, and not on death's doorstep when I come to pick you up this evening."
"A dinner date, you say?" She asked, faltering a bit while she wavered by the door.
"Yeah, a date." He made sure to emphasize the word, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall with a crooked smile.
She blushed dark and remained speechless for a moment, and his grin only broadened that she reacted so well to his taunt.
"O-oh, alright. A date it is, then." She answered, a small smile on her lips while she attempted to process just what was occurring.
Perhaps it was cruel of him to ask her out right after her brush with death, but the response he was getting from her was too good to feel guilty.
Sebastian chuckled as he watched her leave, flustered and stumbling clumsily over her own feet down the hall in her haste to escape his incessant teasing.
He mused quietly to himself that he may eventually have to marry the careless girl in order to keep a better eye on her.
She may have been an utter disaster, but she was his disaster.