matilda oneshots i had to get out of my head

i fell and you helped me to stand

hello everyone!! i hope you're having a great day!! welcome to this lil sickfic :)

i also wanted to say a quick thank you for all the love on my last fic!! it was truly so so so much more than i was expecting and i so appreciate all the engagement. much love to you all <3

tw for
illness
vomit
mentioned/implied previous abuse
and if i've missed anything please let me know so i can put it in!!

enjoy!

—————

Agatha Trunchbull was correct about very few things when it came to children. The children of the former Crunchem Hall gradually learned that they were not maggots, not squirmy little vermin who deserved to be trampled and locked away until they reached adulthood.

But she was correct about one singular point.

Children are germy. Snotty, sickly, little bags of germs. Not exclusively, of course. But germy nonetheless.

Matilda knew she didn't have the strongest immune system. She hadn't seen a doctor until she was five, since her parents had simply forgotten she'd be in need of healthcare. She hadn't had any vaccines, and she'd had no other children to play with and build up any sort of immunity that way.

It was really only a matter of time before she got sick. But this? This is worse than anyone could've imagined.

—-

It starts innocently enough. Matilda wakes on a Tuesday morning with a tickle in her throat and an ache in her head.

Miss Honey says tea can fix anything, so Matilda requests a cup alongside her orange juice with breakfast. She read enough cartons of orange juice as a toddler to know all the vitamins on the ingredients label by heart. They should help get this bug away nice and quick.

"Goodness," Miss Honey says when Matilda gives a violent sneeze as soon as her eggs are rested in front of her. "Bless you."

"Excuse me," Matilda says sheepishly.

"Of course, love. Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine, thank you Miss Honey," Matilda says rapidly. She stuffs a bite of breakfast into her mouth to avoid having to answer any further questions.

Her stomach begins to ache as soon as she gets it all down. She's hoping she just ate too quickly. Miss Honey looks at her oddly as she pops up like a little gopher and rushes to start doing the dishes.

"Matilda, dear, the dishes don't need to be done so quickly," she says in concern. "I haven't even finished yet!"

"They need doing," Matilda shrugs. "I might as well get them done quickly."

"Doing them is not your job, Matilda."

"It isn't yours either," Matilda mumbles as she rests the plate in the drying rack. "Aren't children meant to have chores?"

"Well, yes," Miss Honey admits. "But... you should have chores so that we can have a tidy home. As long as they get done before we leave the house, where is the harm?"

Matilda sniffles and surreptitiously wipes her nose off on the dish cloth. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Matilda," Miss Honey says comfortingly, crouching down to her height and tipping her chin up. "I appreciate you wanting to help. But you mustn't strain yourself."

"Yes, Miss Honey," Matilda says softly. Miss Honey frowns the slightest bit.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright, darling? Your nose is a bit red."