You’d think the scariest part about losing consciousness on the stairs of your high school would be, well you know, passing out and losing consciousness on the stairs of your high school. It’s not. It’s the waiting that scares him. It’s watching the chairs empty at the pace of molasses and fill quicker than a sand filled hourglass. It’s the way Effie hand tightens around his own as they wait to be treated. Not that it matters, of course neither of them know that yet.
“Tell me what happened again.” Effie requests, foot tapping anxiously against the pristine tile. “Don’t leave anything out, okay?”
Remus nods. He does in fact leave a few things out. He leaves out the wishing and praying that he would pass out so he wouldn’t feel so sick. He leaves out the part that when he actually does think he’s dying his only fear comes from the question of who will find his body. Besides he’s not sure that’s what she means anyway. So Remus talks. He recalls the dizzying feeling and the nausea in his stomach. He looks back on the way the world seemed to just disappear and his dramatic fall down the stairs. He subconsciously reaches for Effie’s hand, afraid if he thinks about it too much it might happen again.
Remus isn’t afraid of a lot of things, let’s get that straight. He fears abandonment, yes, running out of chocolate of course, but he doesn’t fear death. That much is apparent now. Despite that he’s never felt as scared as he does now, clenching Effie’s hand retelling the same story over and over. Recalling the way his mind clouded over, how he felt himself losing his sense of self and control over his own body. But he pretends he isn’t and he holds Effie’s hand to show he’s comforting her, not the other way around. He hopes she doesn't know. She probably knows.
“Okay,” Effie breathes, “I think I got it.”
By this point Remus is sure she could probably recite what happened herself as if she was the one who experienced it, but he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say much of anything actually, unless he’s asked.
“Mind if I cut in?” the old woman next to him asks.
Remus wants to say no, but considering they're in the hospital she’s probably dying or some shit so he grants her wish.
The woman smiles, and he’s almost surprised to find that she has all her teeth. She actually looks quite young to be old, if that even makes sense.
“I think you have POTS” she states it as if it’s a fact, not that she’s diagnosing a teenage boy with a lifelong condition. Not like she’s saving him six years of misdiagnoses and false treatments.
“What’s that?” Effie cuts in “Is it dangerous?”
The woman sits there for a moment, and a heavy silence covers them as she seemingly weighs her answer “No.”
Effie sighs in relief, and the two begin to talk. Effie doesn't bother moving so the conversation occurs over him as the two women lean a bit out of their seats to seem polite probably. In moments like these Remus would usually put in his headphones, play some music and turn the volume down to the lowest setting so he can pretend he isn’t listening. He doesn't do that now. Instead he finds himself leaning out of his seat as well and he listens to the woman explain both her and possible his illness.
She’s had it since she was sixteen and Remus almost chokes as he realizes that’s how old he is. She explains how it worsens on her menstrual cycle, and how both her daughter and son have it. Effie asks questions, like if it’ll affect his ability to drive and if it can kill him. The woman laughs at both those questions and says no. She doesn’t specify which question she’s answering.
“Remus Lupin,” his name is announced loudly and after only an hour.
He stands and parts ways with the woman, but not before asking one last question.
“What are you here for?”
She chuckles, like she’s surprised he didn’t ask earlier “My daughter, she broke her leg.”
“From POTS?” he asks.
His name is called and again and the woman doesn’t answer. Instead she smiles softly, eyes crinkling up in a way that makes her seem magical. For a moment he wonders if she’s some sort of guardian angel.
“Let’s go love,” Effie urges.
Remus looks away, forcing himself not to look over his shoulder. He’s sure if he does the woman will disappear.
The next couple minutes are filled with blood pressure cuffs, a needle and him retelling his story for what has to be the thousandth time. The woman taking care of him nods and takes notes, but she doesn’t really seem to care. Remus tries not to be offended and fails, flipping her off behind his back as he and Effie are sent back to their seats.
By the time they sit back down the woman is gone, he isn’t too surprised. Angels don’t stay long, he supposes that’s why his mother’s gone. He balls his hands into fists and pushes the thought away. He has enough on his mind to reminisce about the past. So what if he had a history of abrupt deaths and his family and fatal medical misdiagnosis? That didn’t mean he was going to end up like them.
Before he can fully let himself spiral his name is called again. Apparently they have a bed for him. What they don’t tell him of course is that it’s in the middle of the hallway next to a possibly dying homeless man and a high amputee. Not that he has a problem with homeless people or amputees or people that do drugs. He’d just prefer it if they weren’t all crammed together in a singular hallway next to a girl who’s heart keeps stopping every five minutes.
Euphemia holds his hand and squeezes it tight. “We’re going to be okay, don’t worry,”
She seems to be reassuring herself more than she is him, but he doesn’t point that out. Instead he lifts up their intertwined hands and kisses them.
“I know,”