Author's Note: The setting is a battlefield in Northern France. Let's assume that Minerva and Poppy ended up as surgeons in the magical infantry of WWII. My timing's a little off to be canon, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head. Fair warning: this might be awful. I haven't written in close to a year… Please leave criticism! I'm always trying to improve!

Mild spoilers for Pottermore. J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

The sirens wailed, and the field hospital shook as if it were going to collapse each time a bomber flew over the battlefield. Minerva McGonagall had been on her feet for 8 hours, treating the incoming wounded, and she was exhausted. Her cap had been discarded seemingly ages ago in favor of a more practical bandana, but her black hair still managed to escape the plait she had tried so hard to keep tidy. Her sleeves were rolled up past her elbow and her wand arm hadn't stopped moving since the first wave of wounded were brought in. "Entrant blessés!" A voice was shouting over the din. Incoming wounded. Minerva wiped the sweat from her brow and turned to survey the inside of the field hospital. It was dirty, hot, and chaotic. She saw familiar faces every now and then, some nurses, some wounded. Each and every bed was taken by a soldier. By a man. No, she shook herself, Just a body. Not a person. She had seen such horror in the past few days that she had had to distance herself. She felt somehow detached, as if it wasn't her wand that was waving over the mangled appendages of hundreds of men, as if they weren't her eyes that witnessed them plead for death, as if it weren't her hands that had been soaked through with the warm blood of the wounded.

She completed her preliminary examination of the soldier in her care, then called, "Nous devons aller de ces homes! maintenant!" Her French was choppy, but after a certain amount of time on the battlefield one picked up essential phrases. They needed to clear the beds and make room for the fresh wave of incoming. A bomber screamed overhead. The walls shook. The man on the bed reached out an arm and grabbed wildly at the air, searching for her. A bandage covered his eyes. She reached out her hand to him. He grabbed her arm forcefully and pulled her towards him. She heard him whisper, "Miss, you can't let me go. Please, miss, you gotta stay with me." Not a man, only a body. Her eyes glazed over and she responded, "I'm sorry, I can't. There are others who need my help. I've stabilized your internal bleeding. You'll be fine for now. Just hold tight, and we're going to get you into surgery." His hold on her became tighter, more frantic. "No, miss, please, you don't understand – you gotta stay with me. I need you!" Not a man, just a body. She pulled away. "I'm sorry."

"Min! I need you over here!" Minerva looked up and saw a mass of matted blonde curls signaling to her form across the tent. When she finally maneuvered herself through the cots and the rushing people, she noticed that her friend had a streak of red adorning her cheek. "Poppy, you're bleeding." Poppy didn't even miss a beat. "Not mine. This one's got intense internal bleeding, preliminary medispells show shrapnel embedded in his abdomen. I've got to perform surgery. It's going to hurt. A lot. I need you to keep him still as possible. Can you do that?" Minerva looked down at the red oozing from the man's abdomen. She wasn't sure she could do it… until she looked at Poppy. She met her friend's eyes and in that moment saw the reason Poppy had been sorted into Gryffindor. There was a fire and a determination in her eyes that Min had never seen before, in all their years as best friends. It gave her strength. "Yes. I'll do it." Poppy nodded, wild curls bobbing. "Good. I'm going to start with an incision to the abdomen. Talk to him, keep him conscious. He's under some pretty potent anesthesia spells, and if he goes under we might not get him back. Ready?" Min nodded as Poppy reached for her wand. Min bent down closer to the face of the soldier on the table. She noticed sandy hair, a strong jaw line, the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose… No. It can't be. The eyes of the soldier on the table fluttered open. She would have recognized them anywhere. "Min? Is that you?" Oh god, oh please no. The soldier smiled faintly at her. "I can't believe it…"

Min felt her walls shatter. Not just a body. A man. Dougal. She felt hot tears fill her eyes. No, Min. No. Not now. He needs you to be strong. Poppy needs you to be strong. Be strong. She blinked them away. "Dougal McGregor. Hi, love, you are you?" He coughed, and spit up crimson. She wiped it away. His breathing was quick and raspy. "The usual. Getting shot at. Working on a novel." She couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her throat. Her voice was so heavy with emotion that it sounded more like a bark. "We're going to take care of you, okay Dougal? You have to stay awake with me. Okay? Just keep talking to me." She ran a gentle hand down the side of his face as he flinched. Poppy was now well into his abdomen. "Min, I'm so happy to see you." He smiled weakly up at her as tears seeped out of the corners of his eyes. "I…" His eyes started to flutter again. Min panicked. "No, damn it Dougal! Stay with me!" She let a sob escape. "You have to stay awake my love, please. Stay with me." Poppy's wand rang out a bell tone, and Minerva felt his pulse become weak and thready. "Dougal – come on! Talk to me…" Poppy's voice shouted through the clamor, "I've got a code blue over here! Require immediate assistance!" Suddenly the table was surrounded by mediwizards, and Minerva was pushed out of the way. She could only stand back and watch as he grew pale and started to seize. She grabbed a soldier walking by and asked, "Do you speak English?" He gave a curt nod, replying, "London, born and raised." She pointed to her friend on the cot. "What the hell is he doing in here? He's a Muggle! This infantry is supposed to be magical only!" The soldier gave her an exhausted look. "Hey, sweets, I don't know if you've heard recently, but there's a war on out there. Things get screwed up, but the number one priority is to save our men, no matter the magic in their blood." Then he moved on. Another bomber screamed overhead and debris drifted down from the ramshackle ceiling.

Then the stillness came. The roar of the last bomber faded, and none more took its place. The air raid was over. Minerva hugged herself and looked back at the table. Poppy was cleaning the incision running down Dougal's middle. Min didn't even need to ask. She simply looked at Poppy. Her friend gave her a sad smile. "He's stable, and we removed the shrapnel, but he's unconscious. We can't be sure the extent of the damage until he wakes." If he wakes. Minerva felt herself collapsing. Poppy rushed over to support her, and ended up wrapping her friend in a tight embrace as Minerva started to sob. She couldn't catch her breath. Poppy's voice was calming and gentle. "Shhhhhhh. Breathe, love, breathe. It's going to be okay." Minerva couldn't respond. "Come on darling, let's go grab a smoke." Poppy led her out of the tent and pulled two cigarettes and a pack of matches out of her apron. Min took one with shaking hands. "How do you do it, Poppy? How can you –" She couldn't finish. She took a long drag with trembling hands and then whispered, "I'm such a coward." Poppy's face transformed from the determined soldier she had seen in the tent into the caring friend she knew. "No, Min, never. Please, promise me you'll never tell yourself that again." Minerva was silent. She looked out into the sunset; darkness was seeping into the flames on the horizon. "Do you think he'll make it?" Poppy sighed. "I don't know." Min took another long pull on her cigarette. Then she gently clasped Poppy's hand. "Okay." Poppy smiled faintly. "Okay."

Closing note: Well, that's that! I've been studying WWI in history recently, and was kind of inspired. It might be horridly OOC… if so, let me know! I'm trying to improve. If you want this continued, leave a comment. If there's enough interest, I'll do a follow up.

Thanks for your time! - Ellen