DISCLAIMER: I do own Chris and Sandy, but I'm afraid everything else belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: These are a couple of drabbles strung together from a drabble challenge back on the MNFF forums. The drabbles had to be from the point of view of Healer OCs.

Chris is one of my oldest OCs. He's in two of my novel-length fics, both of which may or may not appear on this website, as they require extensive editing, and I can't find the time.

Chizpurfliasis is a disease which is transmitted from Chizpurfles (and yes, I made that up). The causative agent is a fungus, Cenza chizpurfliana, a sky-blue fungus with spores that attach themselves to any witch or wizard passing by the Chizpurfle. The cure to this, however, is not by potion administration, but a series of spells that have to be repeated thrice everyday for five days by a qualified Healer.
The Chizpurfle was borrowed from 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' by our very own Jo.

i. Two Saves

Demelza Robins had high fever, headache, nausea and a terrible, dry cough the day she was admitted to St Mungo's hospital. A Trainee looked her up in the clinic before she was assigned to Healer Chris Stevens, one of the most promising Healers in the hospital.

Chris had finished his Healer training four years ago and he also had an additional degree in Muggle medicine. There were few diseases that escaped his eyes and his mind, and the moment he read Demelza's chart, he could vaguely guess what she was suffering from. He walked up to her bed. "Miss Robins," he smiled. "Flex your knees, please."

She followed his instructions and he asked her to take a deep breath before gently pulling apart her gown and feeling her abdomen, starting from bony protrusion on her hip. Soon, he could palpate her spleen, which confirmed his diagnosis. Chizpurfliasis. He took her chart and started to write on it. "You have Chizpurfliasis. It's completely curable, but you will have to spend a few days at the hospital."

"Okay."

"Is there anyone you'd like to call? A family member?"

"No, no…" She was quiet, as Chris took out his wand again and waved it at her abdomen, to see the exact dimensions of her spleen. He moved his wand over each part of her abdomen, scrutinising her organs, but he frowned as his wand hovered over her lower abdomen. "What is it?" Demelza asked him, noticing the frown.

Chris bit his lip. This complicated everything. "You're pregnant, Miss Robins."

"So… you're saying that I could lose the baby?" Demelza asked Chris quietly.

"I'll try my best to make sure that doesn't happen," he said softly.

There was silence. When Demelza broke it, her voice was heavy. "I want to abort the child."

Chris frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I don't even know who the father is," she whispered. "Even if I don't miscarry, what will I do, bringing this child to the world?" Chris didn't reply to this, but she continued. "I mean, how much will I miss out on anyway?"

This time, Chris couldn't help but talk. "A lot," he said. He sighed, and smiled. "I have a four-year old myself."

"But isn't the pregnancy a danger to my condition?"

"No," said Chris. "Your condition is potentially dangerous to your pregnancy, not vice-versa. But if you wish to abort—"

Her expression was soft. "Tell me about your child."

Chris grinned, as he spoke to her about his son, Tom, about when Tom was born, all the good times, and the fun he had parenting. When he had finished, Demelza just looked amazed. Chris, however, checked his watch and stood up. "I must leave now. Let me know… I'll be back in an hour."

She nodded and he realised that she wasn't about to abort. He left the ward, the thought of saving not one, but two lives making him happier than ever. He had fulfilled his duties successfully.

ii. Ante-Mortem

She could feel the colour drain off her face the moment they wheeled him into the morgue and placed him on her table. She stared at his pale face helplessly, not believing that this was it. She had known him for a long time—longer than his other students, because he and her father were friends. He had been her Herbology professor at Hogwarts. Yes, Professor Longbottom (Uncle Neville to her) was dead.

How did he die? She knew it was up to her to find out the answer, as she washed her hands, her heart heavy. She wondered if she should ask someone else to perform the autopsy, but then, she realised, it would give her some peace to find out how this had happened. How was he dead, when two days ago, he had just come in with mild but persistent fever?

She sighed and gave his introduction on the Recording Charm. After the basics, she picked up my wand and pointed it at his bare chest. "Opening chest cavity…"

The patient in the ward next to his was dead, and she was just walking past when she noticed Uncle Neville in the hospital. He was reclining against his bed, relaxed and chatting animatedly with his wife. When he saw her, he grinned. "Sandy! How are you?"

She smiled back and entered his ward. "I'm good, Uncle Neville."

"And how is Dean doing? All good at home?"

"All good," She responded. "What happened to you?" She asked him, as she could see no injuries.

"I've had a week-long fever," he shrugged. "I wasn't even going to come, but Hannah insisted. She is scared it could be dangerous."

"Well, it could," she said. "You should never take these things lightly."

That evening, he spent more time with Aunt Hannah and his children. Her words seemed to have affected him quite a lot, and he was living every moment of his life. She wondered how he was so affected by what she had said—because she had never meant it like that—but right now, as she looked at his lifeless form on the table, she realised that he was right to have done all of that.

Snapping back to reality, she extracted his lungs from the chest cavity. "Lungs are congested and oedematous, showing petechiae…"

The End