Antonin had been coming down with something for days, and that his body did not respond to the treatments he was attempting was being viewed as a personal affront by both him and Morag. Not that she had had anything to do with it other than her confidence in Antonin's ability to do anything. That and her own headache that was making her slightly irritable.
Maybe that should be incredibly irritable....
But in spite of her confidence in his healing abilities, Morag had been uncomfortable with his turn to Muggle solutions. The idea of wearing a needle in one's arm to allow things to drip into the bloodstream completely creeped her out, and she felt rather nauseous whenever she thought about it.
Well....she felt rather nauseous all the time, but she was blaming it on the tube running down to the needle in Antonin's arm.
She'd given up an unsuccessful attempt to sleep and was roaming the house in a bored and grumpy snit when she came across Antonin sitting in a chair humming with a slightly loopy look on his face.
'That's not fair!' she protested. 'You can't have fun when you're sick!' That he was enjoying himself while being so sick when she felt like crap and was having no fun at all rankled.