The noise of chatter in the room died instantly when he walked in.
I'd heard the heel-toe motion of his dragon-hide boots hitting the flagstones well before he entered the room.
He paused just inside the door; I, like everyone else, turned to look at him expectantly.
He's breathtaking.
Standing at his full height, dressed in full black, he is motionless, but his cloak is the only thing still in motion. It settles around his feet like a bird of prey folding its wings, and the cloak becomes part of him once more. His eyes are the only things that move, slowly working their way around, taking in the faces in the room. Those in the room wait with expectations. After a pause, the only sound is his deep baritone voice.
"I would like to speak privately with my wife."
I can't help the instant feeling of soaring excitement at hearing those words; it travels from my ears to my core, like being plunged into ice-cold water and that first gasp of being able to breathe once you reach the surface.
Immediate nervous murmurs and whispers of apologies are given, with chairs scraping on the floor as everyone hurries to leave. Side glances and quiet goodbyes are directed at me as my onlookers depart one by one.
"Headmaster," she starts,
"Prognosis," he replies, cutting her off in a flat monotone.
Short and sweet to the point, I think. To anyone else, it would appear uncaring, but I know him. I can see his tell, like a seasoned poker player, he hides it well, but the stress is there, and I can see how carefully he's carrying himself.
My attention is drawn to Poppy as she opens and closes her mouth, like a fish gasping for air. She struggles for a moment, you could almost see her brain kick into gear. She squares her shoulders; this is where she feels comfortable. This is the area she knows, where her medi-witch training kicks in, and she starts listing off test results and procedures she's done on me.
I zone out for a moment. The list she's droning on about is extensive, but my ears prick up at "A muggle computed tomography scan has also been done with no sign of visual fractures or any evidence of haemorrhage, hematomas, or contusions."
What in the world is computed tomography? I wonder to myself, she continues.
"All tests have come back clear, Headmaster. Her cognitive functions seem unaffected."
"Unaffected?" he repeats deadpan, raising an eyebrow. "Is he making a joke about my brain function?"
"Well, yes, Headmaster. Poor choices of words, maybe, but it is what it is. She's perfectly normal. There's no medical evidence of the situation we find ourselves in."
"She," I think to myself, is right here!! I hold off on the internal eye roll.
"I would say she needs rest, but Madam Snape, she sounds that word out nervously, will be back to full operation within a few days, I believe."
Full operation, talking about me like I'm a car. I grumble internally.
Severus had been listening intently. "Mmm" was the only reply Poppy got. Neither of them had looked my way while discussing me!
I, on the other hand, had watched this exchange like a tennis match. My head swam.
"So, erm, poppy," it came out almost like a squeak.
They both turned their heads, I'm sure, almost forgetting that I was there!
"So, what now?"