For Better or For Worse
A/N: This is a prequel to 'In Sickness and In Health'. Dedicated to Thestral. A sequel is already in the works.
The mediwitch of Hogwarts was worried. Her husband, an Auror and member of a secret group that had been working tirelessly against Voldemort, had been sent on a mission the day before for the secret group and had yet to return from it. No word had come, however, informing her that something had happened to him. All she knew was that he should have returned by now. A soft knock at the door disturbed her from her reverie. "Come in."
"Poppy," Minerva McGonagall greeted her longtime friend. "Good, you're already dressed."
The mediwitch rose from the chair in which she'd been sitting: a lovely white armchair with apple trees on it, each reflecting the season. "Minerva? What is it? Has something happened?"
"Alastor and Stewart were sent into a trap, Poppy." Minerva's face was sympathetic. "Another team was sent after them, when the mistake was discovered, but it does not look good."
Poppy gasped, her hand going to her throat. "Where are they now?"
"Stewart's body wasn't found, so we can only assume he's dead," Minerva told Poppy, the words coming out thick with tears. "Alastor's on his way to St. Mungo's."
Poppy lifted her trembling chin, crossing to where her cloak hung with Alastor's spare one. "I'm going."
"I thought you'd say that." Minerva smiled sadly. "Albus has already arranged for a Portkey."
Poppy slipped on her husband's cloak and looked at Minerva. "Let's go."
"After you, Poppy." Minerva gestured to the door.
Poppy preceded her friend through the door. "Does Ro know?"
"Not yet," Minerva replied, leading the way up to the Headmaster's office. "Stewart didn't even tell her that he had to go."
Poppy swallowed the tears that sprung up at the thought of her daffy brother. He drove her crazy sometimes, but she loved him dearly and could only hope that he had somehow managed to survive. They rode the spiral staircase up to Albus' office. Without bothering to knock, Minerva opened the door and led Poppy inside. Albus waited for them in front of his desk, holding a book. "Hello, Albus."
"Poppy," he hugged her briefly before holding up the book. "This will take you to St. Mungo's."
She nodded, swiping tears from her eyes. "Thank you, Albus."
"No thanks are necessary, Poppy," he assured her, his voice quiet. "You'd better take this. Your husband needs you."
Nodding again, she took the book and, after a moment, she was rushing through the air and landed in the waiting room of St. Mungo's. It was quiet and dim, no one in sight. Pocketing the book, she hurried through the corridors to the treatment rooms. "Poppy!"
"Where is he, Rosie?" Poppy asked the Healer. "Where's my husband?"
Rosalind Baxton squeezed her friend's shoulder comfortingly. "He's in number three, but you can't go in wearing those."
"Oh, right," Poppy pulled her wand out of her pocket and Transfigured her robes and cloak into the lime green robes of a Healer. "Thanks for reminding me."
Squeezing Poppy's shoulder once more, Rosalind pointed the meditwitch in the right direction. "You know where number three is."
"Right you are," Poppy gave her friend a strained smile before bustling off. Slipping into the room, she carefully approached the bed and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat at the sight of all the blood. Steadying herself, she quietly helped the other Healers work to save her husband's life.
* * *
The sun had risen and was almost halfway across the sky when the Healer in charge declared that they had done all they could and all that remained to be done was wait and see if he would pull through. Feeling drained, Poppy left the treatment room and, slipping into the lavatory, Transfigured the lime green robes back into her usual red and white ones with Alastor's spare cloak over them. After splashing some water on her face, Poppy emerged and promptly ran into Rosalind. "Hello, Poppy."
"Hello, Rosie," Poppy smiled tiredly at her friend. "We've done all we can, but I wish we could do more for him."
The older woman gently drew her former student into a comforting embrace. "Sh, Poppy, sh. Don't torment yourself."
"I can't bear the thought of losing him," the mediwitch whispered, her voice shaking, as Rosalind led her through the bustling hospital.
Neither said any more until they reached the waiting room, where Poppy's three closest friends engulfed her in a comforting embrace: Minerva, Rolanda Hooch, and Irma Pince. Poppy clung mainly to Minerva, but she acknowledged Rolanda and Irma. Rosalind quietly slipped away as Poppy was guided over to a chair, where her friends settled down around her, Minerva and Irma on either side and Rolanda kneeling at her feet. "Poppy?"
"Th-there was so much blood," Poppy managed, her voice choked. "It was either his l-leg or his l-life." A handkerchief was pressed into her hand and she buried her face in it, unable to stop the tears. "Who would d-do things like this? Th-they hurt him so much."
Rolanda squeezed Poppy's knees, her own face wet with tears. "Will he live, Poppy?"
"W-we don't know," Poppy replied, tears welling up afresh. "W-we can only w- wait and s-see." The embrace of her friends tightened and Poppy slowly drifted off to sleep.
* * *
She woke to the quiet murmur of voices. "I don't know how we're going to get through this, Albus. Poppy and Rolanda are both hurting now." Rolanda? With a pang, Poppy recalled that Stewart and Rolanda were married.
"I know, my dear," Albus' voice was as quiet and calm as ever, but Poppy could hear the slight strain in it. "We are going to get through this the same we always have: by drawing strength from each other."
Poppy heard the rustle of robes and could only assume that Albus and Minerva were clinging tightly to each other, as she longed to do with her husband. She slowly opened her eyes and her hunch was confirmed. They were seated in a corner, his voluminous sleeves practically hiding her from view. A glance to her right told her that Rolanda was curled up in the chair beside hers, asleep, her face still stained with tears. A glance to the left informed Poppy that Irma was fast asleep as well, her head pillowed on the shoulder of her husband, Milo Camden, who taught Ancient Runes. She sighed and stretched. "Poppy?"
"Minerva, Albus." Poppy smiled wanly up at the two as they rose and walked over. "Any news about Alastor yet?"
Minerva shook her head, one hand still entwined with her husband's. "None, either for good or ill."
"What about Stewart?" Poppy asked softly, glancing at Rolanda.
Albus was the one to shake his head. "His body was never found, although that doesn't necessarily mean he is dead."
"But the probability is high," a quiet voice inserted.
Poppy leaned forward to look past Rolanda and smiled slightly when she spotted Griffith Hooch, Rolanda's younger brother, sitting on her other side. "Unfortunately, that is true."
"Don't bother talking softly around me," Rolanda suddenly spoke up, her yellow eyes fluttering open. "I'm well aware that he may be gone."
Before anyone could say anything, she shot to her feet and stalked across the room to a chair in the corner. "I'll talk to her." Griffith stood and walked over to his sister. She didn't respond at first when he rested his hand on her shoulder, but he was soon holding her as she cuddled in his arms, seemingly beyond tears.
"Poppy?" Rosalind's voice caused the mediwitch to jump to her feet, her heart in her throat. "Alastor will pull through."
Relief flooded through her. "Oh, thank Merlin."
"He's being moved to a private room to aid his recovery and you'll be allowed to sit with him," Rosalind added, a smile on her face.
Poppy walked to her friend and hugged her. "Thank you, Rosie. Oh, thank you."
"No need to thank me, Poppy," Rosalind replied, hugging her back. "No need to thank me."
After Rosalind had left, Poppy turned to her friends a smile on her face. "He's going to live, Minerva. He's going to live." As she wept tears of relief, her friends and parents gathered around her to rejoice with her; even Rolanda managed to look happy for her.
A/N: This is a prequel to 'In Sickness and In Health'. Dedicated to Thestral. A sequel is already in the works.
The mediwitch of Hogwarts was worried. Her husband, an Auror and member of a secret group that had been working tirelessly against Voldemort, had been sent on a mission the day before for the secret group and had yet to return from it. No word had come, however, informing her that something had happened to him. All she knew was that he should have returned by now. A soft knock at the door disturbed her from her reverie. "Come in."
"Poppy," Minerva McGonagall greeted her longtime friend. "Good, you're already dressed."
The mediwitch rose from the chair in which she'd been sitting: a lovely white armchair with apple trees on it, each reflecting the season. "Minerva? What is it? Has something happened?"
"Alastor and Stewart were sent into a trap, Poppy." Minerva's face was sympathetic. "Another team was sent after them, when the mistake was discovered, but it does not look good."
Poppy gasped, her hand going to her throat. "Where are they now?"
"Stewart's body wasn't found, so we can only assume he's dead," Minerva told Poppy, the words coming out thick with tears. "Alastor's on his way to St. Mungo's."
Poppy lifted her trembling chin, crossing to where her cloak hung with Alastor's spare one. "I'm going."
"I thought you'd say that." Minerva smiled sadly. "Albus has already arranged for a Portkey."
Poppy slipped on her husband's cloak and looked at Minerva. "Let's go."
"After you, Poppy." Minerva gestured to the door.
Poppy preceded her friend through the door. "Does Ro know?"
"Not yet," Minerva replied, leading the way up to the Headmaster's office. "Stewart didn't even tell her that he had to go."
Poppy swallowed the tears that sprung up at the thought of her daffy brother. He drove her crazy sometimes, but she loved him dearly and could only hope that he had somehow managed to survive. They rode the spiral staircase up to Albus' office. Without bothering to knock, Minerva opened the door and led Poppy inside. Albus waited for them in front of his desk, holding a book. "Hello, Albus."
"Poppy," he hugged her briefly before holding up the book. "This will take you to St. Mungo's."
She nodded, swiping tears from her eyes. "Thank you, Albus."
"No thanks are necessary, Poppy," he assured her, his voice quiet. "You'd better take this. Your husband needs you."
Nodding again, she took the book and, after a moment, she was rushing through the air and landed in the waiting room of St. Mungo's. It was quiet and dim, no one in sight. Pocketing the book, she hurried through the corridors to the treatment rooms. "Poppy!"
"Where is he, Rosie?" Poppy asked the Healer. "Where's my husband?"
Rosalind Baxton squeezed her friend's shoulder comfortingly. "He's in number three, but you can't go in wearing those."
"Oh, right," Poppy pulled her wand out of her pocket and Transfigured her robes and cloak into the lime green robes of a Healer. "Thanks for reminding me."
Squeezing Poppy's shoulder once more, Rosalind pointed the meditwitch in the right direction. "You know where number three is."
"Right you are," Poppy gave her friend a strained smile before bustling off. Slipping into the room, she carefully approached the bed and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat at the sight of all the blood. Steadying herself, she quietly helped the other Healers work to save her husband's life.
* * *
The sun had risen and was almost halfway across the sky when the Healer in charge declared that they had done all they could and all that remained to be done was wait and see if he would pull through. Feeling drained, Poppy left the treatment room and, slipping into the lavatory, Transfigured the lime green robes back into her usual red and white ones with Alastor's spare cloak over them. After splashing some water on her face, Poppy emerged and promptly ran into Rosalind. "Hello, Poppy."
"Hello, Rosie," Poppy smiled tiredly at her friend. "We've done all we can, but I wish we could do more for him."
The older woman gently drew her former student into a comforting embrace. "Sh, Poppy, sh. Don't torment yourself."
"I can't bear the thought of losing him," the mediwitch whispered, her voice shaking, as Rosalind led her through the bustling hospital.
Neither said any more until they reached the waiting room, where Poppy's three closest friends engulfed her in a comforting embrace: Minerva, Rolanda Hooch, and Irma Pince. Poppy clung mainly to Minerva, but she acknowledged Rolanda and Irma. Rosalind quietly slipped away as Poppy was guided over to a chair, where her friends settled down around her, Minerva and Irma on either side and Rolanda kneeling at her feet. "Poppy?"
"Th-there was so much blood," Poppy managed, her voice choked. "It was either his l-leg or his l-life." A handkerchief was pressed into her hand and she buried her face in it, unable to stop the tears. "Who would d-do things like this? Th-they hurt him so much."
Rolanda squeezed Poppy's knees, her own face wet with tears. "Will he live, Poppy?"
"W-we don't know," Poppy replied, tears welling up afresh. "W-we can only w- wait and s-see." The embrace of her friends tightened and Poppy slowly drifted off to sleep.
* * *
She woke to the quiet murmur of voices. "I don't know how we're going to get through this, Albus. Poppy and Rolanda are both hurting now." Rolanda? With a pang, Poppy recalled that Stewart and Rolanda were married.
"I know, my dear," Albus' voice was as quiet and calm as ever, but Poppy could hear the slight strain in it. "We are going to get through this the same we always have: by drawing strength from each other."
Poppy heard the rustle of robes and could only assume that Albus and Minerva were clinging tightly to each other, as she longed to do with her husband. She slowly opened her eyes and her hunch was confirmed. They were seated in a corner, his voluminous sleeves practically hiding her from view. A glance to her right told her that Rolanda was curled up in the chair beside hers, asleep, her face still stained with tears. A glance to the left informed Poppy that Irma was fast asleep as well, her head pillowed on the shoulder of her husband, Milo Camden, who taught Ancient Runes. She sighed and stretched. "Poppy?"
"Minerva, Albus." Poppy smiled wanly up at the two as they rose and walked over. "Any news about Alastor yet?"
Minerva shook her head, one hand still entwined with her husband's. "None, either for good or ill."
"What about Stewart?" Poppy asked softly, glancing at Rolanda.
Albus was the one to shake his head. "His body was never found, although that doesn't necessarily mean he is dead."
"But the probability is high," a quiet voice inserted.
Poppy leaned forward to look past Rolanda and smiled slightly when she spotted Griffith Hooch, Rolanda's younger brother, sitting on her other side. "Unfortunately, that is true."
"Don't bother talking softly around me," Rolanda suddenly spoke up, her yellow eyes fluttering open. "I'm well aware that he may be gone."
Before anyone could say anything, she shot to her feet and stalked across the room to a chair in the corner. "I'll talk to her." Griffith stood and walked over to his sister. She didn't respond at first when he rested his hand on her shoulder, but he was soon holding her as she cuddled in his arms, seemingly beyond tears.
"Poppy?" Rosalind's voice caused the mediwitch to jump to her feet, her heart in her throat. "Alastor will pull through."
Relief flooded through her. "Oh, thank Merlin."
"He's being moved to a private room to aid his recovery and you'll be allowed to sit with him," Rosalind added, a smile on her face.
Poppy walked to her friend and hugged her. "Thank you, Rosie. Oh, thank you."
"No need to thank me, Poppy," Rosalind replied, hugging her back. "No need to thank me."
After Rosalind had left, Poppy turned to her friends a smile on her face. "He's going to live, Minerva. He's going to live." As she wept tears of relief, her friends and parents gathered around her to rejoice with her; even Rolanda managed to look happy for her.