Drama Queenitis by Luvscharlie

The Medi-wizard stood by the edge of the bed looking Fred over. They didn't normally make house calls, but given that products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes gave St. Mungo's a fair amount of business, the Head Healer had made an exception when Fred had Hermione Fire Call and insist that he was too ill to Apparate.

"It's Dragon Pox. I'm dying. I know it. You can just tell it to me straight. I'm a man. I can take it." Fred gave a weak groan to punctuate his dying declaration and turned his head sideways on the pillow, face flushed with fever.

The Medi-wizard gave a disgusted shake of his head and looked down at his "dying" charge, then back at Hermione. "He has the flu. You brought me all the way here and away from patients who really need me for the flu."

Fred, clearly having only heard the first part of the statement, continued on. "Oh, Mum always said if George and I sniffed the Floo Powder to get a high we'd damage our brains," he wailed, throwing an arm across his forehead.

"Well, she wasn't wrong about that," Hermione said. Fred shot her a look of disgust that indicated he clearly thought her comment in bad taste with his death drawing nigh. "However," she said, waving a hand in farewell at the retreating back of the disgruntled Medi-wizard, "you aren't dying and you don't have Dragon Pox. You have a touch of cold and a virus called the flu—a Muggle disease."

"Which I clearly caught from my Muggleborn wife." Fred drew the blankets up to his chin as though to ward off her contagious germs.

Hermione stomped her foot, losing her patience at his hysterics. "You did not catch this from me. First and foremost, I am not sick."

She left the room in a fit, her patience waning, and returned moments later a bit calmer, her temper in check. She sat down on the side of the bed with a vial full of "potion" (Muggle Tylenol) to reduce his fever. Knowing him as she did, the disguise was necessary; she was aware from past experience that he would refuse to take any sort of Muggle medication. "Here, take this. It will make you feel better."

He clamped his lips tightly together and shook his head in the manner of a defiant six-year-old child. "Huh-uh."

"Oh, honestly," she said, uncorking the vial with her teeth and grabbing hold of his nose, cutting off his airway as she clamped it shut. Finally, when breathing became necessary, (though to give credit where it was due, he turned a nice shade of purple before giving up the fight) he opened his mouth and she dumped the potion in. "Don't you dare spit that out."

Fred glared at her and muttered a few choice names, but he did swallow down the potion, as she patted his hand condescendingly and assured him he was a good boy. "So," he said, "is that supposed to cure this flu thing?"

"No," she responded. "Nor do I believe it will do overmuch to better the case of Drama Queenitis from which you suffer."

She turned on her heel to exit the room, and he called after her. "Will that disease kill me?"

She turned back, pasting a saccharine-sweet smile on her face. "No, dear. I feel confident your suffering from that one will kill me."

~Fin.~

A/N: Originally written for the fwhg_ldws (Fred Weasley/Hermione Granger Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition) on Live Journal where the prompt was someone gets the flu. This one made it through to the next round.