Alicia simply watched Oliver as he drank, though she did frown a little when he said he couldn’t taste anything. Not because she was surprised that he couldn’t – the man had a stuffed nosed – but because she had been so careful about getting the taste just right. That wouldn’t do. Of course, Oliver was taking it as the real man he was, so as he sounded like he knew he was standing with one foot on the funeral pyre, she summoned her purse for one of her own little secrets; a small box her mum had given her on Friday as she refused to hear anymore about Potions.
“I did know that, yes,” Alicia chuckled, nodding, glad that he wasn’t coughing up ‘gross stuff’. “But no gross stuff from the lungs is good,” she assured him, “that’s actually very good.” Of course, that didn’t seem to matter any, as only moments later he turned away from her, telling her to leave as well. Merlin’s pants, but it was days like today she remembered why she was so glad when she had female patients. She couldn’t just leave him, though, not like this, not when she knew that she did have some very simple remedies that would ease his cold even if only a little, even if it couldn’t make it go away completely.
“How many chickens have you had sit on your head?” she asked him curiously, as she gently rubbed his back, before she put the box of Kleenex in front of him. “Please, just blow your nose, and then try a whiff of this in each nostril. Then I’ll get you some more to drink, and I’m sure you’ll be able to taste that.” She held up the small box; a nasal decongestant from Boots, a Muggle remedy that there was yet to be made a magical equivalent to.