Personal List of Priorities
Jul. 28th, 2003 06:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
donnaimmaculataThe way I spent last weekend might be a good hint as to what my priorities are: In spite of all this important work awaiting me on my desk (and my computer), I drove 350 kilometers to get to a party on Saturday and drove all the way back home on Sunday, where I decided that I was too tired to do anything in the evening, anyway, and postponed it until today. Now there are still things left to be finished before I'll leave for England on Thursday. Tedious, annoying things such as writing three pages of company profiles for work, starting working on the film reviews and actor profiles for the other work, filling in boring forms for the tax office (who's been perstering me for ages now, because apparently I always get things wrong), and preparing for an important meeting on Wednesday. But seeing as I've got my priorities right, I will instead:
a) add LJ users to my list of friends (so if you suddenly find yourself on the list, it's most likely because I enjoy your HP slash)
b) start editing my Snape/Black fic
c) sketch an outline for my Tonks/Ginny fic and my Buckbeak/Padfoot fic (the latter one started me worrying about my sanity, but still, I feel compelled to write it)
d) post my Remus/Minerva fic:
I'm still looking for a title for this one.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the character mentioned in this story. The real Minerva would certainly not behave in such a way.
A/N: The opening sentence is stolen from Jane Austen, in case you don't know ;-)
Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
babycakesin for her encouraging words about the weird switch of simple present and simple past *hugs you*
Summary: Remus suffers. Minerva sympathises. Poppy watches.
I. a
It is a truth universally little acknowledged that within every large organisation, it is not the ones on the top of the hierarchical structure who have the best overview about the general situation. It is the ones who operate in the background, who stay invisible most of the time and only make their appearance when their services are required.
Poppy Pomfrey, Matron at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, was therefore not surprised about Remus Lupin's appointment as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher the year Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. She was, after all, probably the only person in school who knew Remus best, regarding the fact that she was the only one who had witnessed the boy every time just before and right after his transformations, when his frame of mind was most frail and when he let his usual composure slip. She was the one to offer him comfort during his first months at Hogwarts, when Remus had been simply terrified by the idea of having to change in unfamiliar surroundings, being fully at the mercy of strangers whose attitude towards himself he must have expected to be more hostile than not.
Having spent many a night sitting at the window of her office, staring up at the full moon, she had wondered what it must feel like for a sensitive boy like Remus to live with the knowledge that every month, he would turn into a terrifying monster, and that there was nothing to prevent these transformations. She did not really wish to know the answer.
In the course of the years, his transformations seemed to become somehow easier, or less terrifying at least. Or maybe he had simply adapted to and accepted the fate with this quiet dignity that was evident in everything he did. His friends had surely been a great support during this time. Those in school who knew about the boy's condition had been more than happy to witness the intense friendship between himself and the other Gryffindor boys in his year. And although it was James Potter who, due to his extreme popularity among teachers and students alike, had been generally considered to have been the ringleader of their little gang, Madam Pomfrey had always recognised the enormous influence the quiet Remus Lupin had over his friends.
Sirius Black, on the other hand, had always been a troublesome boy. His flaming temper and his tendency to blatantly display every emotion, be it good or bad, had always caused him problems. Unlike James, who had the ability to please where he thought it wise, Sirius could not or would not pretend to feel differently than he did. The only voice of authority he seemed to listen to was Remus Lupin. In his presence, Sirius transformed into another person - he suddenly developed the ability for retrospection and stopped in his steps to think through his next action.
Therefore, it seemed only logical the Headmaster should invite Remus to Hogwarts after Sirius's escape. He valued the boy's ability to make others see reason and hoped against hope that, in case Black would turn up, Remus would be there to prevent the worst.
Poppy sighed and turned away from the window. It was full moon, and Remus was in his office, a harmless wolf under the influence of the Wolfsbane. She left her office and went to the Great Hall for dinner.
She was late. Everyone was already at dinner when she slipped in quietly, taking a seat near the door, and when she sat down and looked around, her gaze fell on Minerva.
Minerva McGonagall was sitting very straight three seats along on the long side of the table, and by the way the Professor's hands were trembling slightly, Poppy recognised that the other woman must have been in a state of great distress. Minerva had always been the classic example of composure. The only person she knew who had their feelings better under control than Professor McGonagall was Remus Lupin, thought Poppy. And understood.
II. a
The memory struck her forcefully. It was Remus's last night at Hogwarts. It was full moon.
While all his school fellows are celebrating the fact that they are leaving school forever and are finally released into real life, Remus Lupin is locked away in the Shrieking Shack, where he is going through a transformation that is apparently worse than any one he has experienced during the recent years. When Poppy comes to retrieve him in the morning, he is spread out shivering on the cold stone floor, covered abundantly in blood and dirt. He is lying motionlessly on his front and she has to turn him around. It has been a long time since she has witnessed him so entirely helpless. During the last years, they have come to the silent agreement that Poppy never unlocked the door and entered the room before Remus signalled her that he was moderately 'decent'. After all, he is no longer a little boy. He has turned into a grown-up man, as Poppy is now in the position to see. Very thin - far too thin for his height - usually his robes successfully hide his well-developed, wiry muscles and the tapering shape of his torso. Poppy has turned him on his side and quickly covers his slim body with the woollen rug she has brought so that only his grey face remains visible, his blood-stained lips a nasty bluish colour, dark shadows under his eyes. The fingers of his left hand protruding from under the rug are trembling violently. They are cold as ice.
Poppy feels a wave of nausea overwhelm her when she sees the blood and pieces of flesh under his nails. She has seen many severe injuries in her life. But seeing this boy - man - so bruised and battered and bloody makes her heart break. Uncertain where to start healing his numerous injuries, she stares down at his face for a moment, clutching his hand tightly in hers.
"What am I to do with you, child?" she whispers in a thick voice. Forcing herself to regain composure, she pulls out her wand and starts muttering healing spells that can be performed on the spot. His right shoulder is dislocated. No bones seem to be broken, however. She does not risk healing the deep bite wounds before she has cleaned them properly. While an infection will not threaten a werewolf's life, the healing process of a poorly treated wound would certainly cause Remus a lot of pain. She curses herself for not having brought the necessary magical ointments, but she has not expected the boy to be in such a horrible state. After all, he has not bitten and scratched himself so severely for a long time now.
A soft noise makes her look up. The door is pushed open, and Minerva McGonagall enters the room, looking pale and tense. She does not even look at Madam Pomfrey, her gaze is directed at the boy on the floor.
"How is he, Poppy?" she asks in a low voice. Poppy shrugs helplessly. Minerva's sudden appearance comes as a surprise: no teacher has accompanied her on her missions to the Shrieking Shack, not after Remus' first year, anyway, after Professor Dumbledore had established that she can deal with it well enough by herself, and that Remus certainly does not wish many people to be present around his transformations.
"Badly," she answers curtly. "I haven't seen him in such a miserable state for many years. He has bitten himself." As to emphasise her words, she lifts up the rug and shows Minerva the nasty wound on Remus' right arm.
She hears a sharp intake of breath and Minerva's voice uttering an "Oh sweet Merlin", weak and trembling. Poppy turns Remus' arm around gently and takes a good look herself. The wound is deep, ugly. The paleness of the bone just visible under a mass of shredded, bloody flesh. A wolf's tooth marks standing out clearly on the edges.
"We've got to take him back to the castle," says Poppy. "I can't do anything before I have cleaned the wounds."
Looking almost as pale as the boy, Minerva kneels down beside the lifeless figure on the ground. Her eyes meet Poppy's.
"Let's go. Quick."
II b
"I was worried," says Minerva later, after they have transported Remus back to the castle. He has not regained consciousness, and according to Poppy, this is a very bad sign. Very bad.
"I felt somehow guilty that the celebrations were taking place without him. He was one of the top students in his year, after all. This, and the fact that Potter and Black and Pettigrew would not come to see him this morning like they usually do after his transformations. They are certainly not in the condition for this today," her voice quivers with indignation. "Finished Hogwarts with outstanding marks, but - no sense at all. Just imagine, Professor Sprout caught them getting drunk at the cheapest mead right behind greenhouse three... Black and Potter have initiated this little celebration, I expect. Peter Pettigrew was there, too, and so were a couple of girls. One day, Pettigrew will get tired of getting in trouble because of his friends' affinity for brainless action. I hope this will not destroy their friendship," she sighs heavily. "Anyway, I had to give them detention. And as Mr. Lupin's Head of House, I felt that I should be there to show him -" she trails off, looking almost ashamed of herself. "To tell him there's no need to worry."
Both women know this is a blatant lie. While life at Hogwarts, under Albus Dumbledore's auspices, even a life with such a heavy burden and forced to secrecy, has been a life of security and comfort for Remus, real life in the real world will be a lifelong fight for survival.
"I've got business to attend to," Poppy says finally in the uncomfortable silence. "I've got to get organised before I can leave for the summer." She gives Minerva a long glance. "Can I leave you with him?" Minerva nods. "Call me when he wakes up, will you?"
Minerva sits very straight in her chair, looking down at the young man with a peculiar expression on her face. It resembles the expression Poppy has often witnessed on young witches and wizards when they come to the hospital wing after accidents caused by magical powers - either their own or those of others - that they had never expected to exist: a mixture of fear and awe and respect. Minerva's face, however, displays something more: deep caring.
Poppy has left the door to her office open, in order to be available in an instant if Minerva needs her. Remus lies motionlessly on the bed. After what seems like hours, Minerva shifts slightly in her chair. She sighs as though waking up from deep sleep, leans forward and over Remus, and pulls up his blanket a bit. She freezes in her motion when Remus gives a soft sigh and rolls his head to the other side. He is facing Minerva now.
The Professor stares intently at his face. Apparently, he is not waking up, and Minerva releases the edge of the blanket she has still been holding in a tight grip and brushes back a strand of light brown hair from his face. Her hand lingers for a moment, pressed gently against his temple: a soft, caressing gesture. Her thumb appears to be stroking the sharp angle of his cheek bone. Poppy catches herself rising from her chair to get a better look. She realises her mouth is open and falls back, a deep blush spreading across her face. She is spying, she scolds herself.
But the sight of the stern, severe Professor McGonagall displaying affection for a student is... disquieting. Somehow, it increases Poppy's feeling of apprehension.
Minerva has pulled back her hand; a fraction too quickly, Poppy thinks. Remus shifts again. He turns his head towards Poppy, and she sees his eyes are open. Her heart gives a strange flutter.
"So, how nice you've decided to join us again, Mr. Lupin," she says crisply as she approaches his bed. Minerva has leaned back in her chair, her face and eyes betraying no emotion. Only the left corner of her mouth is twitching slightly.
"How are you feeling?," asks the Matron, checking the pulse on the side of Remus's neck. "Hmm, rather weak, but that's no surprise. You've been in a right state when we brought you in, young man."
"We?" croaks Remus weakly. He coughs. Minerva makes a sudden movement, but Poppy has already handed him a glass of water. He takes it with a trembling hand and raises his head with apparent effort. Minerva's tension is now visible in her entire posture, she resembles a cat ready to leap.
She relaxes perceptibly when Remus's head falls back on the pillow.
"Professor McGonagall helped me to bring you back." Poppy turns away and rummages in the box on the magical tray that has followed her to Remus's bed. She hears a shuffling noise as though Remus has turned his head to look at Minerva and hears her voice, sounding dry and slightly strained.
"Well, Mr. Lupin, as your Head of House I felt it my duty to check on your condition after your transformation. Seeing as today your friends are not... available."
"They will turn up here sooner or later," mutters Poppy, loudly enough for the other two to hear, to break the ringing silence that has fallen after Professor McGonagall's words. Remus releases the breath he has been apparently holding. "If they really spent last night drinking cheap mead, they can't possibly board the Hogwarts Express without a good dose of a hangover cure."
"But now, as you seem to be recovering," continues Professor McGonagall in the same crispy tone, rising from her chair, "I will go back to work. I will have to see the students off, after all."
"What about me?" asks Remus hoarsely. His throat seems to be in pain, probably sore from too much howling.
Both women exchange a glance.
"What about you, Mr. Lupin?" asks Minerva.
"I will be leaving, too, won't I?" he says in a pleading tone.
"We will see about that," answers Poppy dryly. "I've got to examine you thoroughly before I can release you. You had some very nasty injuries today."
"Sorry," mutters Remus, lowering his gaze and looking genuinely ashamed. Poppy feels her stomach clench. Sorry!
"Now, now, there's no need for you to be sorry," she says, careful not to betray any of the emotions that are shaking her. "You will heal quickly. Half of your wounds have probably already closed."
Her eyes dart to Minerva who looks positively ill.
"I will leave you to it now, Madam Pomfrey," says the Professor. "I'm sure you will have the occasion to say goodbye to your friends later, Mr. Lupin. I will see to it."
Minerva turns around and approaches the door in quick, determined steps. When she has turned the handle, only the slightest hesitation gives evidence that Remus's hoarsely whispered "Thank you" must have reached her ears, but she does not turn around.
Poppy knows she is crying.
a) add LJ users to my list of friends (so if you suddenly find yourself on the list, it's most likely because I enjoy your HP slash)
b) start editing my Snape/Black fic
c) sketch an outline for my Tonks/Ginny fic and my Buckbeak/Padfoot fic (the latter one started me worrying about my sanity, but still, I feel compelled to write it)
d) post my Remus/Minerva fic:
I'm still looking for a title for this one.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the character mentioned in this story. The real Minerva would certainly not behave in such a way.
A/N: The opening sentence is stolen from Jane Austen, in case you don't know ;-)
Many thanks to
babycakesin for her encouraging words about the weird switch of simple present and simple past *hugs you*Summary: Remus suffers. Minerva sympathises. Poppy watches.
I. a
It is a truth universally little acknowledged that within every large organisation, it is not the ones on the top of the hierarchical structure who have the best overview about the general situation. It is the ones who operate in the background, who stay invisible most of the time and only make their appearance when their services are required.
Poppy Pomfrey, Matron at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, was therefore not surprised about Remus Lupin's appointment as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher the year Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. She was, after all, probably the only person in school who knew Remus best, regarding the fact that she was the only one who had witnessed the boy every time just before and right after his transformations, when his frame of mind was most frail and when he let his usual composure slip. She was the one to offer him comfort during his first months at Hogwarts, when Remus had been simply terrified by the idea of having to change in unfamiliar surroundings, being fully at the mercy of strangers whose attitude towards himself he must have expected to be more hostile than not.
Having spent many a night sitting at the window of her office, staring up at the full moon, she had wondered what it must feel like for a sensitive boy like Remus to live with the knowledge that every month, he would turn into a terrifying monster, and that there was nothing to prevent these transformations. She did not really wish to know the answer.
In the course of the years, his transformations seemed to become somehow easier, or less terrifying at least. Or maybe he had simply adapted to and accepted the fate with this quiet dignity that was evident in everything he did. His friends had surely been a great support during this time. Those in school who knew about the boy's condition had been more than happy to witness the intense friendship between himself and the other Gryffindor boys in his year. And although it was James Potter who, due to his extreme popularity among teachers and students alike, had been generally considered to have been the ringleader of their little gang, Madam Pomfrey had always recognised the enormous influence the quiet Remus Lupin had over his friends.
Sirius Black, on the other hand, had always been a troublesome boy. His flaming temper and his tendency to blatantly display every emotion, be it good or bad, had always caused him problems. Unlike James, who had the ability to please where he thought it wise, Sirius could not or would not pretend to feel differently than he did. The only voice of authority he seemed to listen to was Remus Lupin. In his presence, Sirius transformed into another person - he suddenly developed the ability for retrospection and stopped in his steps to think through his next action.
Therefore, it seemed only logical the Headmaster should invite Remus to Hogwarts after Sirius's escape. He valued the boy's ability to make others see reason and hoped against hope that, in case Black would turn up, Remus would be there to prevent the worst.
Poppy sighed and turned away from the window. It was full moon, and Remus was in his office, a harmless wolf under the influence of the Wolfsbane. She left her office and went to the Great Hall for dinner.
She was late. Everyone was already at dinner when she slipped in quietly, taking a seat near the door, and when she sat down and looked around, her gaze fell on Minerva.
Minerva McGonagall was sitting very straight three seats along on the long side of the table, and by the way the Professor's hands were trembling slightly, Poppy recognised that the other woman must have been in a state of great distress. Minerva had always been the classic example of composure. The only person she knew who had their feelings better under control than Professor McGonagall was Remus Lupin, thought Poppy. And understood.
II. a
The memory struck her forcefully. It was Remus's last night at Hogwarts. It was full moon.
While all his school fellows are celebrating the fact that they are leaving school forever and are finally released into real life, Remus Lupin is locked away in the Shrieking Shack, where he is going through a transformation that is apparently worse than any one he has experienced during the recent years. When Poppy comes to retrieve him in the morning, he is spread out shivering on the cold stone floor, covered abundantly in blood and dirt. He is lying motionlessly on his front and she has to turn him around. It has been a long time since she has witnessed him so entirely helpless. During the last years, they have come to the silent agreement that Poppy never unlocked the door and entered the room before Remus signalled her that he was moderately 'decent'. After all, he is no longer a little boy. He has turned into a grown-up man, as Poppy is now in the position to see. Very thin - far too thin for his height - usually his robes successfully hide his well-developed, wiry muscles and the tapering shape of his torso. Poppy has turned him on his side and quickly covers his slim body with the woollen rug she has brought so that only his grey face remains visible, his blood-stained lips a nasty bluish colour, dark shadows under his eyes. The fingers of his left hand protruding from under the rug are trembling violently. They are cold as ice.
Poppy feels a wave of nausea overwhelm her when she sees the blood and pieces of flesh under his nails. She has seen many severe injuries in her life. But seeing this boy - man - so bruised and battered and bloody makes her heart break. Uncertain where to start healing his numerous injuries, she stares down at his face for a moment, clutching his hand tightly in hers.
"What am I to do with you, child?" she whispers in a thick voice. Forcing herself to regain composure, she pulls out her wand and starts muttering healing spells that can be performed on the spot. His right shoulder is dislocated. No bones seem to be broken, however. She does not risk healing the deep bite wounds before she has cleaned them properly. While an infection will not threaten a werewolf's life, the healing process of a poorly treated wound would certainly cause Remus a lot of pain. She curses herself for not having brought the necessary magical ointments, but she has not expected the boy to be in such a horrible state. After all, he has not bitten and scratched himself so severely for a long time now.
A soft noise makes her look up. The door is pushed open, and Minerva McGonagall enters the room, looking pale and tense. She does not even look at Madam Pomfrey, her gaze is directed at the boy on the floor.
"How is he, Poppy?" she asks in a low voice. Poppy shrugs helplessly. Minerva's sudden appearance comes as a surprise: no teacher has accompanied her on her missions to the Shrieking Shack, not after Remus' first year, anyway, after Professor Dumbledore had established that she can deal with it well enough by herself, and that Remus certainly does not wish many people to be present around his transformations.
"Badly," she answers curtly. "I haven't seen him in such a miserable state for many years. He has bitten himself." As to emphasise her words, she lifts up the rug and shows Minerva the nasty wound on Remus' right arm.
She hears a sharp intake of breath and Minerva's voice uttering an "Oh sweet Merlin", weak and trembling. Poppy turns Remus' arm around gently and takes a good look herself. The wound is deep, ugly. The paleness of the bone just visible under a mass of shredded, bloody flesh. A wolf's tooth marks standing out clearly on the edges.
"We've got to take him back to the castle," says Poppy. "I can't do anything before I have cleaned the wounds."
Looking almost as pale as the boy, Minerva kneels down beside the lifeless figure on the ground. Her eyes meet Poppy's.
"Let's go. Quick."
II b
"I was worried," says Minerva later, after they have transported Remus back to the castle. He has not regained consciousness, and according to Poppy, this is a very bad sign. Very bad.
"I felt somehow guilty that the celebrations were taking place without him. He was one of the top students in his year, after all. This, and the fact that Potter and Black and Pettigrew would not come to see him this morning like they usually do after his transformations. They are certainly not in the condition for this today," her voice quivers with indignation. "Finished Hogwarts with outstanding marks, but - no sense at all. Just imagine, Professor Sprout caught them getting drunk at the cheapest mead right behind greenhouse three... Black and Potter have initiated this little celebration, I expect. Peter Pettigrew was there, too, and so were a couple of girls. One day, Pettigrew will get tired of getting in trouble because of his friends' affinity for brainless action. I hope this will not destroy their friendship," she sighs heavily. "Anyway, I had to give them detention. And as Mr. Lupin's Head of House, I felt that I should be there to show him -" she trails off, looking almost ashamed of herself. "To tell him there's no need to worry."
Both women know this is a blatant lie. While life at Hogwarts, under Albus Dumbledore's auspices, even a life with such a heavy burden and forced to secrecy, has been a life of security and comfort for Remus, real life in the real world will be a lifelong fight for survival.
"I've got business to attend to," Poppy says finally in the uncomfortable silence. "I've got to get organised before I can leave for the summer." She gives Minerva a long glance. "Can I leave you with him?" Minerva nods. "Call me when he wakes up, will you?"
Minerva sits very straight in her chair, looking down at the young man with a peculiar expression on her face. It resembles the expression Poppy has often witnessed on young witches and wizards when they come to the hospital wing after accidents caused by magical powers - either their own or those of others - that they had never expected to exist: a mixture of fear and awe and respect. Minerva's face, however, displays something more: deep caring.
Poppy has left the door to her office open, in order to be available in an instant if Minerva needs her. Remus lies motionlessly on the bed. After what seems like hours, Minerva shifts slightly in her chair. She sighs as though waking up from deep sleep, leans forward and over Remus, and pulls up his blanket a bit. She freezes in her motion when Remus gives a soft sigh and rolls his head to the other side. He is facing Minerva now.
The Professor stares intently at his face. Apparently, he is not waking up, and Minerva releases the edge of the blanket she has still been holding in a tight grip and brushes back a strand of light brown hair from his face. Her hand lingers for a moment, pressed gently against his temple: a soft, caressing gesture. Her thumb appears to be stroking the sharp angle of his cheek bone. Poppy catches herself rising from her chair to get a better look. She realises her mouth is open and falls back, a deep blush spreading across her face. She is spying, she scolds herself.
But the sight of the stern, severe Professor McGonagall displaying affection for a student is... disquieting. Somehow, it increases Poppy's feeling of apprehension.
Minerva has pulled back her hand; a fraction too quickly, Poppy thinks. Remus shifts again. He turns his head towards Poppy, and she sees his eyes are open. Her heart gives a strange flutter.
"So, how nice you've decided to join us again, Mr. Lupin," she says crisply as she approaches his bed. Minerva has leaned back in her chair, her face and eyes betraying no emotion. Only the left corner of her mouth is twitching slightly.
"How are you feeling?," asks the Matron, checking the pulse on the side of Remus's neck. "Hmm, rather weak, but that's no surprise. You've been in a right state when we brought you in, young man."
"We?" croaks Remus weakly. He coughs. Minerva makes a sudden movement, but Poppy has already handed him a glass of water. He takes it with a trembling hand and raises his head with apparent effort. Minerva's tension is now visible in her entire posture, she resembles a cat ready to leap.
She relaxes perceptibly when Remus's head falls back on the pillow.
"Professor McGonagall helped me to bring you back." Poppy turns away and rummages in the box on the magical tray that has followed her to Remus's bed. She hears a shuffling noise as though Remus has turned his head to look at Minerva and hears her voice, sounding dry and slightly strained.
"Well, Mr. Lupin, as your Head of House I felt it my duty to check on your condition after your transformation. Seeing as today your friends are not... available."
"They will turn up here sooner or later," mutters Poppy, loudly enough for the other two to hear, to break the ringing silence that has fallen after Professor McGonagall's words. Remus releases the breath he has been apparently holding. "If they really spent last night drinking cheap mead, they can't possibly board the Hogwarts Express without a good dose of a hangover cure."
"But now, as you seem to be recovering," continues Professor McGonagall in the same crispy tone, rising from her chair, "I will go back to work. I will have to see the students off, after all."
"What about me?" asks Remus hoarsely. His throat seems to be in pain, probably sore from too much howling.
Both women exchange a glance.
"What about you, Mr. Lupin?" asks Minerva.
"I will be leaving, too, won't I?" he says in a pleading tone.
"We will see about that," answers Poppy dryly. "I've got to examine you thoroughly before I can release you. You had some very nasty injuries today."
"Sorry," mutters Remus, lowering his gaze and looking genuinely ashamed. Poppy feels her stomach clench. Sorry!
"Now, now, there's no need for you to be sorry," she says, careful not to betray any of the emotions that are shaking her. "You will heal quickly. Half of your wounds have probably already closed."
Her eyes dart to Minerva who looks positively ill.
"I will leave you to it now, Madam Pomfrey," says the Professor. "I'm sure you will have the occasion to say goodbye to your friends later, Mr. Lupin. I will see to it."
Minerva turns around and approaches the door in quick, determined steps. When she has turned the handle, only the slightest hesitation gives evidence that Remus's hoarsely whispered "Thank you" must have reached her ears, but she does not turn around.
Poppy knows she is crying.
