Word Count: 565
Poppy has been in pain since before the wounded began flooding into the hospital wing. It isn't her pain; though there's a sharp ache in her left leg, she has done nothing to injure herself. She knows that somewhere among the chaos of the battle, her soulmate is injured. It kills her that she cannot rush to Pomona and treat her, but she knows Pomona would not be happy if she did. There are far too many people in the hospital wing now, and even with the volunteers who are helping Poppy, it feels like she will never treat them all in time.
"Madam Pomfrey?" Daphne asks, frowning. "Have you hurt yourself? You're limping."
Poppy offers her a tired smile and shakes her head. "It isn't my wound," she says, and Daphne must hear the meaning behind the crack in her voice because she blushes and goes about her business without another word.
Poppy has no other choice. All she can do is smile through it and grit her teeth. Pain is okay. Pain means that Pomona is still feeling, is still alive. Poppy only needs to worry if the pain stops because…
She shakes her head. That is not a possibility. Pomona will be fine; everything will be fine. They will both make it out of this alive, and nothing else will matter.
Everything is okay, she tells herself, and she repeats it in her head like a mantra can make it so.
"Let's have a look at your head, dear," she says to the dazed Hufflepuff who sits on the bed and waits.
…
By the time Pomona arrives in the hospital wing, things are slow enough that Poppy can hobble over. Pomona offers her an apologetic smile. "I won't say I'm sorry for fighting," she says. "I'm only sorry you had to feel the pain."
Poppy resists the urge to roll her eyes. That's part of having a soulmate. Your pain is never just your own. "What were you thinking?" Poppy asks. "You're hardly a duelist."
She examines Pomona's leg, frowning at how bad it is. The bone just below the knee is cracked nearly to the point of shattering, and the cartilage in her kneecap has been dislocated.
"To be fair, I planned to stay out of sight and hurl dangerous plants at the enemy," Pomona points out, shrugging. "I was doing good until Antonin brought down the wall beside me."
"You were lucky," Poppy says, giving her a potion for the pain.
Mending bones is an easy enough task, even when they are in this state. Once Pomona downs the potion and Poppy feels her own pain reduced to nothing, Poppy retrieves her wand and presses the tip to her soulmate's leg.
"Much better," Pomona assures her, offering her a soft smile. "Go. Tend to the others now."
Poppy frowns. She's grateful that Pomona is okay, but she doesn't want to leave yet. This war has made her realize exactly how fleeting everything is. She could have lost her soulmate so easily.
"Go," Pomona says again, softer now. "I'll be back."
Poppy leans in, stealing a quick kiss. "You'd better be."
And with that, she moves along. The steady inflow of patients hasn't let up. As much as she would love to sit with Pomona forever, she has work to do. It's what Pomona wants, and Poppy will happily oblige.