The day, and now the night, had been a blur of blood and tears. She had had to act on automatic at times when presented with children for treatment; past and present students threatened to break down her emotional barriers and she couldn't let that happen, she'd be no use to them if she did.
She'd caught sight of him at regular intervals but had not really registered his actions as she held hands, soothed tears and healed wounds. Now, however, as the still of the night brought a sense of traumatised calm she heard the distinctive swish swish of his brush just beyond the door of the great hall.
His irregular breathing became audible accompaniments to the brush strokes as she made her way towards him and she let out a sad sigh as she finally truly looked at the increasingly elderly man.
Filch was trying desperately in vain to move some of the rubble and debris away from the main entrance of the school with the use of a rather ineffective floor brush.
Without conscious thought she laid a warm hand on his gnarled fingers.
"You can stop now Argus" she whispered as if afraid to disturb the injured, the bereaved and the memories which had finally quietened to a hush.
He shook his head and returned to his task, not meeting her eyes.
She watched him in silence for a moment before glancing mournfully at her hands which had failed so many this night. She rolled back her sleeves, crouched down and started to move some of the rubble away from the main door of the school. They should not have to struggle in and out of their school door; they'd struggled enough.
At one stage they'd been joined by a few random survivors who had seemed to welcome this purely physical task. She'd also summoned two gangly, lost looking sixth years who had been sitting rather forlornly on the stairs. Those two young men had organised something of a chain which had made quick work of carrying large and small pieces of debris and rubble. Each and every hand was torn and lacerated but no-one stopped as progress was clear to be seen. Silence reigned as the momentum grew, only interrupted by the heavy and sometimes hitched breaths of those around her. It was only when the path was truly clear that they began to slow and eventually stop. No-one said a word as they simply looked at what they had accomplished and then drifted back to the more unfixable problems.
Madam Pomfrey had found herself where she could never have imagined, sitting on the step at the front door of their beloved school with Argus Filch by her side. They watched the first glimmers of the dawn sun as it tentatively appeared over the devastated landscape. He didn't resist this time when she touched his hand, quickly healing the multiple cuts and scrapes before simply holding her hand in his and watching a new day beginning.