Chapter Ten

Poppy didn't think she'd ever gone out without grabbing at least a cloak with her before, but catching a cold all of a sudden didn't seem that much of a nuisance anymore. Minerva was awake again. Minerva had opened her eyes again. Minerva could talk and walk again. Minerva, now without a doubt named the strongest witch of her age. Minerva the brave. Minerva the courageous.

Minerva, the witch who'd been bearing a child and had lost it again without even realizing it.

As Poppy's feet touched the clean, white material of the floor of the Entrance Hall of St. Mungo's, she urgently bit her lips to keep the tears from appearing in her eyes. It was strange, actually. She was a Mediwitch, and she'd always learnt not to get emotional over a patient's condition- not just for her own good, but also for that of the patient and his or her family members. That had been almost thrust into her head

from the first moment on, when that young, timid, sentimental eighteen-year old Miss Pomfrey had entered the medical training course of St Mungo's Hosptiral.

And here she stood now, years and years and years and years later, in that same Entrance Hall, with tears in her eyes and pain in her smile.

"Minerva McGonagall, please?" she asked the nearest Healer she saw. No time for queuing up- and after all, her face and reputation were not unknown in the medical world.

"Third floor, Magical Recoveries, room 308." the obviously impressed young witch muttered, pointing at the large board at the wall.

Poppy nodded and apparated within a blink of the other Mediwitch's eye.

Minerva's room was the first one on the right, and as soon as Poppy stepped inside, she was touched at what she saw. Minerva was obviously no longer in a coma- her breathing was even and her eyelids trembling, but she'd fallen asleep and the peaceful expression on the pale face, surrounded by the deep, black waves of what was the great Deputy Headmistress's hair made Poppy wonder how on earth she'd ever be able to tell her best friend what she so desperately needed to tell.

Deciding to patiently wait until her friend awoke from her so desperately needed rest, Poppy sank down into the only chair in the room and grabbed the Daily Prophet on the bedside table.

Sheer minutes later, the Mediwitch's eyelids dropped, and so did the newspaper.

The next thing Poppy saw, were two big, brown, concerned eyes staring at her in almost-fascination. It were the eyes of a young girl- perhaps nineteen years of age- wearing the characteristic, light blue robes of a Healer-In-Training.

"Madam†um†Madam Pomfrey, are you awake?"

It was such a silly question to ask, especially since her eyes were already open, and that accompanied by the so familiar, honey brown eyes of the girl convinced Poppy that this was indeed the person she thought it to be. She smiled.

"Yes, Desdemona, I am."

Whether the painful expression on Mona's face was caused by this casual mentioning of her full first name or by the large clipboard she'd just dropped on her toe- that Poppy could not say, but Mona smiled nonetheless and nodded towards the bed.

"Professor McGonagall is still asleep, but I think she can wake up any moment. It's past eight o'clock in the morning already."

This was, at first sight, perhaps a strange statement to make, but Poppy remembered this girl had been still a Hogwarts student less than two years ago, and thus Mona, like all Gryffindors, had probably known the rising-with-the-sun habit of her Head of House.
And the sun, Poppy acknowledged as she narrowed her eyes to protect them from the heavy light, definitely was out and about already.

But apparently Mona had prophesized right, because sheer minutes later, as Poppy stretched her sore arms and silently scolded herself for falling asleep sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, Minerva did open her eyes.

Angry dark green immediately turned into the merry green of freshly cut grass as she recognized the figure sitting in the chair next to her bed, and yet the first thing she uttered wasn't exactly a declaration of friendship.

"A bucket! Quick!"

Mona Tonks immediately jumped into action, throwing over the bedside table and almost breaking off the closet door in the process, but it was, despite everything, still Poppy's practical "Accio bucket!" which had the desired effect.

Holding back Minerva's hair as she was throwing up whatever was left in her practically empty stomach, Poppy soothingly stroked the other woman's back.

"It's okay, Minerva- it's okay"

Minerva fell back into the cushions with a grim smile on her still deathly pale face.

"No, it's not okay†Poppy, I am lying here, and where's the woman who did this to me†to Hogwarts, even? Answer; she's free to go wherever she wants- free to ruin the school Albus and I- and you too!- dedicated our entire lives to!"

After another short bucket-interference, Poppy sighed, hardly daring to look Minerva in the eye.

"I know, Minerva. I do know it."

Because oh yes, how did she know it.

More even than Minerva herself did.