Tale As Old As Time
Harry Potter blinked his eyes open as he tried to move. Every part of him ached terribly and he couldn't see in the dark. He guessed that after that battle with Quirrell--no, Voldemort--that he was in the hospital wing. He moved to sit up but froze when he heard a familiar wheezy voice call out.
"Poppy?" the voice's owner stumbled through the darkness towards the nurse's quarters, just off of the infirmary.
"Argus?" the elderly nurse's voice sounded sweet. "What's the matter?"
"Is it true?" Argus Filch asked as Poppy Pomfrey lit a nearby lamp.
"Yes," she answered, eyes flickering towards Harry, who feigned sleep. "He's been attacked. Dumbledore thinks it was you-know-who."
"You-know-who!" Argus wheezed, clutching at his chest and swearing as he dropped his arm back down to his side.
"Argus!" Poppy gasped. "What have you done to your arm?"
"Nothing," Argus defended, turning his injured arm away and showing her his good one. "See, it's fine."
"Don't give me that!" Poppy reprimanded, twisting him around so that she could see his arm. "It's broken!"
"It's nothing," Argus repeated. "You have more important things to worry about."
"Don't be daft," Poppy glared at him and sat him down on a nearby bed. "After all these years, you should know how important you are to me."
Filch said nothing, and Harry chanced a peek at them. All he could make out was the blurry figure of Madam Pomfrey leaning over Filch and muttering several spells over his arm. Something around her neck sparkled in the lamplight.
"You still have that?" Argus gestured towards the locket around Poppy's neck.
"Of course," Poppy gave him a hard look. "What? You think I'd throw it away or something?"
"Maybe," Argus admitted.
"Don't be daft," she repeated stepping away from him, towards the lamp. She fiddled with the locket until it opened. "I'll have this until the day I die."
"I wish you'd throw that picture away," Argus growled. "At the very least."
"Why?" Poppy snapped the locket shut and spun around to face him. "It's the only picture I have of us when we were young and in love."
"That's it, isn't it," Argus stood to leave. "It's stupid to dwell so much on the past."
"Get out," Poppy said, pushing him towards the door. "Get out of my infirmary." Her voice wavered as she pushed him.
Harry's head pounded heavily as he peered through his eyelashes at the situation.
"Poppy," Argus stood by the door, a pleading look in his eye.
"Leave," she said dangerously.
"Poppy, I didn't mean it like that."
"Then, how did you mean it?" Poppy stood, hands on hips and all Argus saw was the beautiful woman he had fallen in love with.
"I just don't understand why you keep that old thing," Argus said quietly. "Why would you..."
"Because it's beautiful and wonderful," Poppy defended. "Like we were once."
Harry's vision blurred even more as his head pounded more violently.
"Poppy," Argus stepped toward her. "Poppy, I didn't... I was daft. A complete fool."
"Damn right," Poppy agreed, standing tall and not moving as Argus approached her.
"Poppy, I... I'm not sure how to..." Argus fumbled over his words, wheezing more heavily as he went on.
Harry couldn't see them anymore, his whole vision was black and there was a ringing in his ears.
"Shut up, Argus," Poppy said, her voice a distant echo.
A few moments passed as Harry lay there, half-way consious, but lacking the senses to know it.
Eventually, "Potter," Filch's voice was gruff.
"Oh, my," Madam Pomfrey's voice grew louder as she came near Harry. "He looks like he's in pain."
It was true, Harry could hardly hear over the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears now.
A cool, tingly liquid was forced down his throat as he completely lost conciousness, not waking until a familiar old man came to visit three days later.
(A/N: By the way... I don't own the rights to Harry Potter, if that's what you were thinking.
What could have possibly put that into your head?)