Pomona coughed violently into her tissue. Groaning slightly she leaned slowly back into her chair and closed her eyes. Her head throbbed and the cough, which had begun only a few days ago, was now getting steadily worse.

Pomona coughed again, more violently than before. Hands trembling slightly, she put the tissue down on the table next to her. Debating on whether she should resume her knitting, Pomona thought otherwise and instead picked up a yellowed piece of parchment. Emerald green writing covered the delicate page and Pomona smiled – Minerva's neat handwriting never ceased to amaze her. She had used the beautiful ink Albus had always used and Pomona had not failed to notice that Minerva had been writing with it ever since the day he had died. Scanning the letter for perhaps the second time that day, Pomona's heart fluttered. She had been retired for only a few weeks now, mostly due to her deteriorating health. Never having quite made a full recovery after the Battle of Hogwarts, old wounds made movement extremely difficult as they no doubt made it difficult for Minerva as well. This sadly meant that neither of them saw much of each other anymore, which was quite a shock after having worked together for over forty odd years.

Pomona closed her eyes again, feeling a wave of dizziness ripple over her. When she opened her eyes again her vision was slightly blurred and new fit of coughing seized her. She was not sure how many more days she could survive like this. Having another hour to wait before Minerva came to visit, Pomona shuffled her chair closer to the fire and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. It only took a few minutes for her head to loll to one side and her mind to drift amongst the stars.

It was an hour before Pomona's eyelids started to twitch. She could hear a faint knocking in the background, which was steadily getting louder.

'Pomona?' called a voice from outside.

Flinging her eyes open suddenly Pomona got out of her chair, perhaps a little too quickly for her own good, collected her walking stick and walked slowly to the front door. Her eyes were still prickling from tiredness, however, despite the illness the cold and the weariness, she was delighted that Minerva had actually come.

'Just one moment, Minerva,' croaked Pomona, 'just let me get the keys.' Fumbling around blindly, Pomona cursed herself for leaving her reading glasses back in the living room. Finally, she found what she was looking for and unlocked the door to her small cottage.

Minerva was standing on the second step to the door. Her hair was tied up in its usual bun, however; it was no longer raven black but grey and white. Her emerald green eyes stood out from her pale face and her thin lips were curved into the small smile Pomona had so missed. She was wearing a set of robes Pomona had never seen before and, hidden within its folds, a walking stick was concealed. Minerva was gripping it quite tightly Pomona noticed with sadness.

'Minerva,' she said, 'How nice to see you!'

Minerva's stern face creased into a wider smile, 'It is nice to see you too, Pomona. It has been a long time hasn't it?'

Pomona smiled, however, before she had the chance to even invite her friend in, she broke off into a sudden fit of coughing. Staggering slightly she leaned against the wall of the hallway and waited for the coughing to stop.

'Goodness, Pomona, you never told me you were ill!' said Minerva sharply. Quickly entering the small cottage she closed the door and supported Pomona all the way back to the living room.

'I'm,' Pomona paused and breathed deeply in through her nose, 'fine. Perfectly fine, Minerva. You needn't fuss.'

Minerva did not look convinced. She pursed her lips, which made her look a lot like her professor-like, self. 'You should have said something,' she said quietly, her voice full of concern, 'I would not have come otherwise. You need rest.'

Pomona leaned forwards and reached out for Minerva's elbow. Squeezing it gently she said, 'What I need is a friend. Now, why don't you take a seat? I have some biscuits and some tea in the kitchen, just let me -' Pomona attempted to get up however Minerva pushed her back down.

'Let me,' said Minerva, 'what kind of tea do you like?' she asked as she made her way slowly to the kitchen.

'I only have Earl Grey,' came Pomona's answer, 'In the cupboard, you know where it is…' she added.

Minerva carefully made her way to the kitchen, her walking stick making a rhythmic tap tap on the wooden floorboards. When she reached the kitchen she set the stick aside, pleased to be rid of it, and started getting the mugs out. Her hands shook a little and it occurred to her how old she and Pomona were getting. They had been through so much and yet after all these years were still seeing each other and hundreds of new generations of young witches and wizards flourish and bloom in the wizarding world. Hermione and Ron Weasley visited her weekly and Neville Longbottom had also become one of Pomona's regular weekly visitors. As both she and Pomona both lived alone, it was nice to have a few visitors once in a while. Moreover, Minerva enjoyed the fact that she still had connections with her former students. Molly Weasley was also regularly in touch, however, with a family as large as she had it was difficult for them to see each other for long.

The sound of coughing echoed from within the living room and Minerva felt her heart twinge. Trying to go as fast as she could, she quickly assembled the mugs onto a small tray and poured hot water into them. The tea tainted the water a brown colour, which became lighter and lighter as Minerva added the milk. Swiftly, she picked the tray up and went back into the living room, Pomona looking much paler than she had done before.

'Do you not have any Pepper-up potion?' asked Minerva, when she set the tea down.

'I'm afraid not,' answered Pomona, smiling sadly, 'And I am not sure if you saw but there is a saucepan full of brown slime in the sink which was my attempt of a pepper-up potion.'

Minerva laughed, 'Good gracious, Pomona! Severus would have had a good laugh at that.'

'Laugh? Minerva, I don't think I ever heard the man laugh… or smile actually…'

'Hm, well yes, I don't suppose he was the sort,' said Minerva, sipping her tea.

'No. And anyway, you're one to talk!' said Pomona, 'I don't think I have ever heard of you brewing a successful potion either. Elphinstone always had to make them for you.'

'I was not too bad at school actually,' said Minerva. Pomona arched her eyebrow and Minerva's face broke into a smile, 'All right, I admit, my potion skills are and were not the best but I am pretty sure Elphinstone nearly poisoned me once. He tried to make me some,' Minerva paused and thought hard, 'actually I can't even remember what he was trying to make but, well all I am going to say is that it looked a little like a boiled mandrake.'

'Ah,' grimaced Pomona, 'I hope you didn't drink it.'

'I probably wouldn't be sitting here if I had,' answered Minerva.

Pomona chuckled and sipped her tea. The flames were licking the top of the fireplace now and she could feel the heat radiate from them and spread through her body. They sat for a few minutes in silence, broken only by Pomona's quiet wheezing which had not stopped since her last coughing fit. She could feel Minerva's eyes on her as she sipped her tea and despite her attempt to ignore them, she could not help herself from feeling a little uncomfortable.

'How has your week been?'

Minerva's voice broke the silence. It was crisp and perhaps a little abrupt, however, knowing Minerva for as long as she had Pomona could detect the kindness and worry in her friend's voice.

'Not bad apart from this awful cold…'

They lapsed into more silence. So many unspoken words flew between them in Pomona's warm living room, however; the two remained silent – not knowing where to begin. Pomona felt she ought to ask how Minerva's week had been and yet the thought of talking about Hogwarts so soon after she had left seemed impossible.

'Shall I make some more tea?' asked Pomona suddenly, in a shaky voice. Standing up a little too quickly, she attempted to manoeuvre her way through her mass of furniture but a hand, clasped around her wrist, stopped her.

Minerva's eyes bore straight into hers and Pomona had the same feeling she always had when Dumbledore looked at her in that way. 'Pomona,' started Minerva and, as though she knew Pomona's exact thoughts and concerns she had been having since she had thought of retiring, Minerva continued, 'Hogwarts will never truly leave you.'

Pomona bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. 'You're just like Albus,' she said finally, giving Minerva's hand a squeeze before saying, 'I am glad you're my friend.'

Voila, I hope you like this short story; I found it really difficult to write. Have a great day! :)