Poppy stood in the corridor, clutching a handkerchief. She had broken down the moment she got out of the room, and it had taken her a few minutes to get herself under control again. She had just seen the mediwitch emerge with some parchment and what looked like a camera when she heard a voice she recognised as the rude Healer's growing closer as he walked down the corridor, talking to another green-robed Healer. The pair stopped at a desk a few feet from where Poppy stood.
"… but Pye's just running about while she circles the drain. Shame about the kid, though. Can you imagine the magic it would've had? With parents like those? I didn't really see much of him at school, but her! She scared the bogeys out of me back then. Almost booted me out of her N.E.W.T. class for a stupid prank, but good old Sluggie persuaded her to let me stay, or I wouldn't be here now.
"Gave me quite a shock to see her on the table when I got in there, I can tell you. Never would've believed it, though, if I hadn't seen it for myself."
"You think she and Dumbledore are really married? I never heard it," said the other Healer.
"Oh, I reckon so. He gave it for the records, and it would be easy to check. 'Course that's no guarantee he's really the father. Be just like him to marry her if she were up the duff with someone else's bastard."
Poppy whirled around, brandishing her wand, to snarl at the rude Healer, "I would hold my filthy tongue if I were you. Even if I don't manage to hex your bollocks so far up your arse it'll take every long-fingered Healer in this building to retrieve them for you, Dumbledore will make sure you end up scraping Kneazle guts off the bottom of the Knight Bus for a living when he finds out you're gossiping about a patient that happens to be his wife."
The rude Healer paled. "Sorry, madam," he mumbled before he and his colleague scurried off down the corridor.
Poppy sagged against the desk. She briefly considered trying to find Jean-Baptiste but rejected the idea, as appealing as it was. She looked for Healer Pye and found him in a tiny, windowless office, squinting at a table of numbers he had drawn in the air with his wand.
"Can you tell me what's happening with Minerva—Mrs Dumbledore?" Poppy asked him. When he hesitated, she added, "She was originally my patient, and I'm her regular mediwitch."
"She's still bleeding," Pye said. "I'm not very happy with these." He gestured at the numbers that were now shimmering out of sight.
"Why?"
"See this?" he said, redrawing one of the numbers with his wand. "Severe thrombocytopenia. And her pH is seven-point-one. Clotting time is prolonged. Her fibrinogen is low too, although that isn't definitive."
"Consumptive coagulopathy?" asked Poppy.
Pye's eyebrows elevated a fraction as looked at her, obviously surprised that a school mediwitch knew the term.
"That's what I'm thinking," he said.
"What can you do?"
"Stop the bleeding, keep her volume up and hope she achieves haemostasis soon," he answered. "Madam … ?"
"Pomfrey," Poppy told him. "Could she be retaining part of the placenta?"
He shook his head. "She had a complete abruption. The whole thing came out practically on top of the foetus."
Poppy let out a breath. "If only I'd known sooner—"
"You did exactly right. You identified the problem and got her here quickly. You probably saved her life."
"But you're telling me she could die anyway."
"It's a possibility."
Poppy almost hung her head in her hands, but her professionalism reasserted itself. She settled for clenching her fists and digging her nails into her palms.
"Thank you for your honesty, Healer Pye. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help."
~oOo~
Minerva was moved to a room on the fourth floor—private, in deference to Dumbledore's position. She was sleeping when Poppy came in to check on her.
Albus sat in a chair at her bedside. He looked up as Poppy approached.
"How is she?" Poppy asked.
"She's exhausted." He stood and gestured for Poppy to join him in the corner so as not to disturb Minerva.
"And how are you?" Poppy asked, taking his large hand between her small ones.
"I don't know. It's all so hard to believe," he said. "Thank you for everything you did."
"Oh, Albus. I'm just so sorry it wasn't enough."
He shook his head. "No, I know you did everything possible. Tell me truthfully, Poppy … how sick is she? The Healers won't tell me anything much."
Once again, it took all Poppy's strength to be honest with him. "Pye thinks she might be developing a problem with her blood."
"What kind of problem?"
"Consumptive coagulopathy. It's an imbalance of clotting factors that sometimes results from heavy bleeding. It can be serious. But Pye seems very good, and he's watching her closely. She's in the best possible hands."
Albus just stood there, watching Minerva sleep.
"Would you like me to get you something to eat?" Poppy asked. She knew he would never leave Minerva's bedside.
"No, thank you."
"I should go back to Hogwarts for a bit. The others will be wondering—I'm sure they're very worried."
He didn't look at her. "Yes."
She hesitated to speak, afraid to overstep her bounds, but the man seemed, for the first time since she had known him, to be unable to think.
"Albus, what would you like me to tell them?"
"The truth."
"All right. I'll be back later this evening to check on you both. Is there anything you'd like me to bring?"
"No, thank you."
As she turned, he said, "Wait. Would you be so kind as to bring me the book that's on my desk? Filius will let you into my office. He's acting Head when Minerva and I are away from Hogwarts."
"Of course."
When Poppy Flooed back to Hogwarts, she immediately sent messages to all the staff, asking them to attend an emergency meeting in an hour.
By the time she arrived in the staff room, everyone was already assembled and anxious for news. The moment she opened the door, she was assailed by questions about Minerva's condition and that of the baby.
"Will everyone please just quiet down and let me speak? I only want to tell this once."
When the murmurs had died away, she took a breath and began.
"I wish—I truly wish—I had better news. I'm sorry to have to tell you that Minerva has lost her baby."
There were gasps and murmurs of "Oh, no!"
She waited for the initial hubbub to quiet, then continued. "She suffered a major complication of pregnancy, and she is very sick. The Headmaster is, of course, with her, and I would anticipate him being away from the school for at least some days. He informs me that you, Filius, are acting Head during his and Minerva's absence."
Flitwick nodded, his lips forming a grim line under his moustache.
"I plan to return to St Mungo's every few hours to check on her. She is in good hands, and I know she and Albus appreciate your good wishes."
Flitwick spoke up. "Thank you for informing us, Poppy. I'm sorry things have turned out as they have. I know you provided the best care you could under the circumstances."
Poppy blinked back tears.
"Thank you," she whispered past the lump in her throat.
Filius said, "One thing we should decide now is what to tell the students. It's certain that Minerva's sudden illness is the topic of discussion in every House, given that she was originally taken ill in the classroom. Poppy, do you have a sense of what Minerva and Albus would like to tell them?"
"No."
"Were any of the students were aware of her pregnancy?
"Not as far as I know."
"But the Starsgaard girl surely knows now," said Filius, "as she was in the infirmary when you were first treating Minerva."
"True," said Poppy. "I don't see Nigella as a gossip, but this kind of thing … I'll ask Albus what his preference is when I go back to St Mungo's. If you don't mind, Filius, I can stop by your quarters when I get back so you can prepare something for tomorrow."
The meeting ended, and as the sombre group filed out of the staff room, Poppy stopped Flitwick.
"Filius, will you let me into Albus's office? He asked me to bring him something."
"Of course."
When Poppy returned to St Mungo's, she found Albus still sitting by Minerva's bedside. She handed him the book he'd requested.
"Thank you. Did you tell the staff?"
"Yes. They asked me to convey their condolences and their love to you and Minerva."
"Thank you."
"Filius was wondering what you would like us to tell the students. It's likely that some of them know about Minerva's pregnancy now, but I don't want to say anything without your permission."
Albus rubbed his eyes.
"Perhaps it would be best to tell them only that Minerva has suddenly become quite ill and that we will be away from the school for some time. Minerva can decide what more to tell them when she returns. Or I will."
The last three words raised a squeezing pain in Poppy's chest.
"All right."
She thought it inadvisable to allow the inevitable gossip to flourish until the Headmaster could return to quell it, but she was not about to argue with him now.
She slipped out of the room to hunt down Healer Pye, eventually finding him coming out of another ward.
"Mr Pye, do you have a moment?"
"Of course, Madam Pomfrey. I expect you want to know how Mrs Dumbledore is getting on?"
"Yes, please. Has there been any change?"
He sighed. "She's still bleeding, I'm afraid, but we've given her some more Blood-Replenishing Potion, and she's holding her own at the moment. Nothing more to do, really, but watch and wait. I know that's hard, but it's the best course right now. If we intervene too aggressively, it might make things worse."
"I understand, Healer Pye. Thank you. I need to return to Hogwarts tonight, but would you mind having someone Floo-call me if there's any change in Mrs Dumbledore's condition?"
"Of course."
When she got back to the school, she went to Filius Flitwick's chambers. When he let her in, she told him what Albus had said, and he frowned.
"Well, Poppy, we must abide by Albus's wishes in this. How is Minerva?"
She polished the truth a little, as she was too tired to explain things to Filius, who would likely ask her for details about the strange condition that was threatening their colleague's life.
"About the same, no better, no worse."
"Poor Albus. He must be beside himself."
"I think he's still in shock. I'm a little worried about him as well."
"He'll muddle through," said Filius. "Unless …" He let the thought dangle unsaid. The unthinkable was also unspeakable.