A/N: This is the final chapter, to be followed by a short epilogue.
Chapter 39: Harry Potter
Upon returning from the lavatory – she preferred the Ladies by the Visitors' Tea Room to the tiny water closets that were in each patient room – Poppy was met with an unexpected sight. Harry and Hermione were holding hands and their eyes were bright with obvious tears.
"Please, sit down, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione gestured. "I, erm, need to tell you something, and it will… be rather shocking."
Poppy couldn't fathom what the young witch had to tell her that was so serious, but she sat as requested and turned her full attention to Hermione.
"You see, uh, the reason, uh,"
"Hermione. This is not like you. What's wrong, dear? You're frightening me, now. What is it?"
There was no way to couch what she had to say, so Hermione just said it. "Harry is back."
"Yes, Hermione. I can see that. What is going on with you, child?" By this time, Poppy was becoming quite concerned about Hermione. She was usually such a sensible young woman.
"No, Madam Pomfrey. I mean Harry is back." Hermione wished Harry would speak up already and help her. Where was his Gryffindor courage?
"Really, Hermione-"
"I mean the real Harry. The old Harry. He has his memories back. All of them, Madam Pomfrey. Do you understand what I mean?" blurted Hermione.
Poppy scoffed. "You're not making any sense, Hermione," she began, but then, Harry cleared his throat, nervously.
Harry didn't know how to start, because he didn't know how to address this woman – this woman who had taken such tender care of him, as no one else had ever done in his memory. He called Ron and Ginny's mother 'Mrs Weasley', and there were ways in which she had sometimes come close to being a mother figure to him. But, saying 'Madam Pomfrey', felt wrong. And calling her 'Pomfee' just felt silly and embarrassing. 'Pomfrey' didn't feel right either, and 'Poppy felt still worse. Everything was so awkward and confusing. Harry felt mortified and just wished he could disappear. But there she was, his 'Pomfee', leveling him with a questioning gaze.
I- I- Th-thank you," he stammered.
"Harry? For what? Oh- Harry! You're talking again!" and she flew to him, hugging him tightly.
It felt so good, to be held this way, by his caretaker, but after a moment, Harry pulled away and held his hands out in an encompassing gesture. "I- I want to thank you for… everything you've done for me, all these months."
At last, dawning spread across Poppy's face. "Harry? Do you- can you- are you…?" she didn't know what to even ask him. But she could see that this was no longer her Harry. The …innocence was somehow gone. This boy looked haunted. And guarded. Poppy couldn't even be sure of that exactly. But she was sure, that this wasn't her 'little' Harry anymore. She sagged back in her chair, not knowing what to think, what to say, even.
Hermione, having recovered much of her equilibrium, took over, then. "Harry? When did this happen? How long have you, uh, been here?" A sensible question. One which would get the broom flying and help guide the three of them out of this mire. Harry was grateful.
"Just when I woke up in the hospital. Before that, I was… little. In my head."
"Something happened while you were in the LeStrange dungeon with Bellatrix," Hermione offered.
"And Tonks," Harry added. "She was going to drown Tonks. I didn't know how to stop her. I was locked in the cage again."
"No," at this, Poppy gasped and put her hand to her mouth. It was just what she had been afraid of. That Bellatrix had tortured Harry like she had done before.
"You didn't know how to stop her, but your magic did. Harry, was it accidental magic that saved you both?"
"That part's kind of fuzzy. I remember feeling a surge, but I'm not sure what happened after that. Just that I woke up and Dumbledore was there."
"Dumbledore?" said the witches in unison.
"I think I was dreaming," Harry quickly supplied. He decided then, at their reaction, that he would keep the rest of that part of the story to himself. He wasn't even sure if it was a dream or not. He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to have somehow really been there. "When I woke up here, I had… come back to myself," was the best way he felt he could put it.
Poppy's mind was whirling. Just last week, she'd been discussing Harry's future over tea with Molly and Pomona and Minerva. Discussing what would become of their relationship, once Harry reached the age of majority. And now, suddenly, he had. Poppy did what she often did in a crisis situation. She went into Matron mode. "Harry, do you need anything? Are you hungry? Comfortable?"
"I'm fine, Pomf-" he hesitated again, unsure of what to call her, and thought that 'Pomf' might actually suite.
"Harry doesn't know what he should call you now, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione interjected, sussing Harry's conundrum.
"Erm, is 'Pomf' okay?" Harry asked shyly.
Poppy's eyes welled up with tears and her voice caught. "Of course it is, Harry. I- I'd like that." She reached for his hand and he let her take it up in hers. "This will be so strange for both of us, Harry. But we will figure this out. We will," she promised.
Hermione excused herself then, to give the two time to talk things out. Poppy and Harry stayed up late into the night talking quietly together. They spoke of the times spent together over the past months. Harry reminisced about visiting The Burrow, and going to Diagon Alley for a new book or some ice cream at Florean Fortesque's. And about how he used to 'help' with chores, now realizing that sometimes he ended up accidentally making more work for those he was supposedly helping. And he also remembered killing Voldemort, and all those who were lost in the war leading up to that final confrontation. And he wept, then, for his losses, for the first time. And he was comforted unconditionally by his dear, dear caregiver.
In the wee hours, Poppy, who had long ago transfigured the visitors' chair back into a more comfortable one, insisted on sleeping there, beside Harry, the rest of the night.
In the morning, a food-service witch brought breakfast for the two of them. Poppy had transfigured Harry's pajamas into a long-sleeve teeshirt and trousers, and his slippers into trainers. Harry was sitting with his legs over the side of the bed, eating at a table shared with Poppy.
"It's funny, I usually do that particular transfiguration in reverse," she chortled.
As she and Harry were eating, Healer Chang came in before her rounds, as arranged, to sit with Harry, so Madam Pomfrey could meet with Healer Vanes. Without explaining why, Poppy told the Healer it wouldn't be necessary for her to stay after all. When Vanes came in and saw the two had just finished their meal, Harry observed that the man could tell something was different. The measured look he leveled Harry was strangely one containing recognition. "He knows," Harry said in surprise. Vanes merely inclined his head, and wordlessly let himself back out of the room.
Poppy stood and stretched and bent to retrieve the satchel full of Harry's books, toys and 'Get Well Soon' cards and pictures. Then she held out her hand to Harry. Bright eyed and smiling, Poppy said,"Let's go home, dear." Harry stood and took the offered hand in his, and they did.
~o~ THE END ~o~
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Coming soon: Epilogue: The Daily Prophet & The Quibbler