"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity." The cold, high voice of You-Know-Who- I mean Voldemort, froze my heart. Never had I heard a sound of something that frighten me so much as the Dark Wizard's voice. A nightmare in real life. "Treat your injured."

The entire battle froze as the voice continued, the Death Eater's grinned at their shocked opponents as they apparated away.

"One hour."

A moment after the announcement finished, Professor Mcgonagall suddenly took charge, even before the panic could set in our hearts.

"Everyone to Great Hall! Take the injured to injured to the front and any witch or wizard with a speck of healing magic had better follow!" She order, and instantly all the warriors took to finding the injured

"Preston!" I whipped around, my heart filling with relief as I saw the stern face of Madam Pomfrey as she bustling her skirts gathered in one hand and a wand in the other, "Preston your coming with me."

Instantly knowing what Madame Pomfrey was implying as she grabbed my arm and continued to walk, "But I'm no healing wi-"

"Preston," Madame Pomfrey stopped her march and faced me, her wand incredibly close at my nose, and said, "You've got to stop this modesty. You are incredibly talented at this magic and I knew that since the moment you stepped in the hospital wing you second year for detention! So come along because you are the only witch in this entire castle I would trust in this situation!" There was no room for argument in Pomfrey's voice and when long ago I learned that no one said no to Madame Pomfrey not even Dumbledore when he was alive.

The injured piled up around Madame Pomfrey and I, some missing arms, other legs. Some people's eyes were completely blacked out by a blinding curse. A few were covered in searing burn marks that blistered and hissed as though still hot.

But I didn't flinch. Healing magic was what came as naturally to me as it transfiguration came to others. I wasn't squeamish to blood and when I was attending to someone, I could be brave. I could be daring, I could take a risk. Madame Pomfrey and I joked about how commonly Gryffindors came into the hospital wing needing new bones or a bandage, but I had always been jealous. They were fearless, something I could never be. Expect now.

The man in front of me; His face and body looked like someone had put him through a paper shredder, repeatedly. Ghastly pale, and breathing shallow, the man's muscles were kept clenched as he clearly fought back the desire to cry.

"Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur" I casted, the man's breathing easing down as the wounds healed.

A boy tottered up to where Madame Pomfrey and I were working, asking if we could use any help. Without even looking up from her work on a older woman green colored cut, Madame Pomfrey flicked of her wand and several rolls of bandages appeared from thin air along with various bottles of shapes and sizes.

"Bandage anyone who's bleeding, we don't want people bleeding out before we can get to them!" Madame Pomfrey said in a clipped tone. As the boy to bandage people on the farthest side of the stage, I turned to Madame Pomfrey, anxiety in my gut.

"How many people do think we will have time to save?" I ask.

Madame Pomfrey didn't stop working, but she let out a sigh and said, "As many as we can."

I felt the gravity of our time limit rest down heavier on my heart. I whirled back around and started a new person, taking care to move as a quickly as I could without sacrificing success. There was an almost drug-like rush to this, it felt good to help, even under these circumstances. I could have almost smiled if the situation weren't so grim because it had only been a few years since I had been too terrified to do things I was now doing as second nature.

Fourth Year

"Preston, would you be so kind as to roll up these bandages while I go have a word with Hagrid?" Madame Pomfrey asked me, lifting up her hat off the chair next to her desk, preparing leave. I nodded, happy to help the nurse in what ever way possible. Ever since Madame Pomfrey had told me I had a gift for healing spells and potions I felt quite content being in the hospital wing.

In the distance I heard the Hospital wing door click shut. For a few minutes there was only the sound of rolls of bandages rubbing against each other in my hands and the occasional drip of water from some sink in the main room. Then I heard a opening of a door and a voice,

"Hello is anyone in here?"

I nearly dropped the roll of bandage I had been holding and quickly scurried out of Madame Pomfrey's office to greet whoever had just entered the hospital wing.

"Sorry! Madame Pomfrey's just went out-" I practically shouted as I scrambled out of the room until I saw who it was, "Oh Turner, it's you."

"Hey there Badgy girl!" Turner said his face breaking into a huge, careless smile. There was something about the way he moved about that put me on edge, his face was flushed red and his eyes were glazed as well.

"Are you drunk?" I asked, shocked and anger.

"Course not! What do you take me for? A hooligan?" Turner responded letting out a shaking laugh that shocked me even more. When he finally calmed down, his eyes drooped down sleepily as he said, "But I sure feel dizzy!"

"Turner do you have a fever?" I asked tentatively reach my hand out and pressing this to his forehead. The moment my fingers touched his forehead, I felt the heat coming off his skin.

"My goodness aren't you a bit familiar with me Badgy?" Turner said, grabbing my wrist and pulling it off his sweaty forehead and examining my hand like it was a foreign fauna, "You have very small fingers." He muttered, suddenly.

"Turner, maybe you should lay down." I said, walking to his hand and wrapping my arm around his waist. Almost instantly I felt Turner lean his weight on me, "God, you weigh a ton!" I exclaimed.

"Trying to get me to bed are you? Your really quite sly for a fourteen year old." Turner comment as his knees began to buckle. It took considerable effort to get him to the nearest hospital bed and when I did, he flopped down like a sack of flour. There was a muffled sound which was clearly Turner talking into the sheet and half-heartly I rolled him over and helped him lay down properly in the bed.

I turned my back on Turner and quickly busied myself with making a cold washcloth to put on his forehead. I racked my brain, desperately as I tried to remember a curse, or spell that gave a person a delirious fever and how to cure it but I could not remember. But at the very least I knew how to treat a normal muggle fever after taking care of Thomas's coughs and sniffles, and with that knowledge I would have to do my best. When I finished making the cloth, I whirled back around quickly placing the cloth on Turner's head and pulling blanket up around him.

As I did this, Turner suddenly said, in a thoughtful tone, "As I was saying Badgy, you should really go to the Yule Ball with me."

My mouth nearly fell open with shock.

"Don't look at me like its the first time I've asked you." Turner said acting as if I had offended.

"You never asked me that!" I snapped, grabbing a nearby chair and bucket (how hope I hope he wouldn't need it!) and pulling up next to his bed.

"Shh, your voice is very loud." Turner whimpered, pressing his fingers to his temple.

I swallow, biting my lip to keep from speaking.

"You shouldn't make that face," Turner said, nearly slurring his words. reaching out a hand that looked like he wanted to touch my face, but it feel uselessly at his side.

"And why's that Turner?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"Because it makes me feel like I kicked a little blonde dog." Turner answered with an almost grumpy tone, and then said, "And stop calling me Turner."

"For a sick person your awfully bossy." I snorted.

"I'm not sick! Watch me!" Turner exclaimed, suddenly tried to get up. I jumped up and pushed him back down into the bed.

"What should I call you then?" I asked, pushing down a little harder on his shoulders. Turner gave way and fell backward, but as he did, Turner gripped my waist, taking me down with him. I wound up with my chest pressed up against his with my head thrown over his shoulder and his mouth very close to my ear

"You should call me Mason, not Turner." He whispered in my ear, his haggard breathes burning my exposed ear."Now say my name," the next word coming out as a slow exhale, "Sophie."

Suddenly my heart felt like it I had just run a mile, it hurt it was hammering so hard. I swallowed and then in an almost automatic response, whispered back, "Mason."

There was a deep, heavy exhale out of Mason's body as if he had been holding it for ages. I felt his hands release my waist and as I stood up, my face as red as a turnip, he said, "Good hufflepuff."

There was a moment of heavy awkward silence in which I gathered up the fallen cloth and got a new one, and I grabbed the bandages out of Madame Pomfrey's office and started to roll them up. It seemed to stretch on and on, and just as I about to curse Madame Pomfrey for being gone so long, the door creaked out and and she stepped in.

"Oh my! Mr. Turner what has happened to you?" She exclaimed as her pretty little eyes feel on Turner-I mean...I mean Mason in the bed.

"I think he has a fever." I answered instantly, standing up in my seat the moment Madame Pomfrey noticed us.

"Oh dearie, I do believe you are right!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed and instantly we went to work whipping a potion and waving wands. In this rush I kept the memory of what had happened before Madame Pomfrey had arrived and even for years after. It was the first time heart ever truly hurt at the sound of my own name, and when I grew older I realized it hurt because Mason had said it.