The Phoenix' flight

The Phoenix’ flight

Disclaimer: They (almost) all belong to J. K. Rowling and her publisher. I don’t intend to make money with them, but have only borrowed them for some playing. I promise, as soon as I’m done with them (or better said, as soon as they’re done with each other) I’ll give them back.

Author’s Note: If the idea of older people falling in love and having sex with each other squicks you, then - please - do me a favour: Go away. You won’t like this story.


Chapter 2: The second night

Hogwarts, October 1998

Somehow it had become a habit: Once or twice a week, when it wasn’t raining, during dinner Harry looked at Ginny and, trying to sound casually, said: “What about a little stroll down to the lake later?”
He didn’t need to mention what he wanted there. Ginny understood and even more: As he’d asked her for the second time, she’d nodded and replied: “Just give me a few minutes before we start. There’s something I need to get.”
Ten minutes later she’d met him at the entrance door, breathless because she’d used the time for running down to the greenhouse where she’d got a bunch of sunflowers. “Professor Sprout said they’d have always been the Headmaster’s favourite flowers.”
Yet what had touched Harry even more as Ginny thinking of the flowers was that she hadn’t put all of them down at Dumbledore’s tomb. She’d carefully and almost tenderly parted the bunch and, blushing slightly, pointed with her chin to the borders of the Forbidden Forest where, in the shadow of an ancient oak, Snape was buried. “I know, you didn’t like him,” she’d said quietly. “But he fought at our side and died for it.”
Harry had only nodded and, taking Ginny’s hand, walked down with her. He’d never before been at Snape’s grave, not even at the funeral. Snape hadn’t wanted it to become a bit affair, but had wished for it being done after sunset and without any fuss and guests.
Looking down at the green marble plate with the silver inscription “Headmaster Severus Snape, 1960-1998” Harry had felt a pang of remorse about not coming earlier. Of course, Snape had bullied him, Snape had made his life miserable whenever he’d been able to and the only connection between the living Snape and Harry had been a deep, mutual dislike of each other. Yet now, at his lonely and already almost forgotten grave, Harry had also been aware that the dead Slytherin had loved his mother, had once been her friend and had – risking his own life with it – more than once saved Harry. And he’d thought of Snape’s last moment and though he’d often felt annoyed about people permanently reminding him of having his mother’s eyes – kneeling next to the dying Snape Harry had for once been glad about the alikeness. He’d known that Snape had searched for Lily Potter in Harry’s eyes and as creepy and obsessive Harry had thought the way in which Snape had clung to his mother: For all the man had sacrificed and suffered through he’d deserved having his last wish fulfilled. Harry even hoped that looking in his eyes had comforted the dying man.
Ginny had obviously felt alike. Kneeling down to put the sunflowers at the green plate she’d wrinkled her forehead and, sounding almost furious, she’d stated: “It’s not fair!”
“What isn’t fair?” Harry had asked.
“This!” Ginny had pointed to the sunflowers. “Dumbledore’s tomb is always covered in flowers. Every visitor at the castle is going there and even the ministry sends flower to his birthday and the anniversary of his death and what else. Sometimes I think they like the dead Dumbledore better as they liked him alive!”
“Probably they do,” Harry had answered. “The dead Headmaster is easier to like – he doesn’t speak his mind anymore.”
“It could be the same here, with Snape. Through years he risked his life on a daily base as the Order’s spy and in the end he died. As much as a git he was in life – for his death he’d deserve a bit more of respect!”


Since then it had become a habit of theirs, this wandering down first to the Headmaster’s and then to Snape’s grave, putting some flowers on it. They knew that a lot of people were gossiping about, but neither Harry nor Ginny cared. They’d come in use with people talking and even saying ugly things. Being “The Boy Who Defeated Voldemort” and a celebrated war hero made for a lot of envy, as did becoming the girlfriend of said hero.
Now they’d already passed the lake with Dumbledore’s white tomb and were marching down the small path to the Forbidden Forest when Ginny suddenly stopped, put her hand over her eyes from shielding then from the evening sun and looked at the grave. “Who’s that?” she wondered.
Harry saw the woman too. She kneeled at the grave, her wand raised, a cradle standing next to her, wearing a blue robe. A long, blonde braid was falling down her back. Now she turned her head and Harry recognized the profile with the fine nose, the high forehead and the energetic chin. “That’s Madam Pomfrey!” he said.
He was glad to see her because it was almost two weeks since he’d spent this one evening in her company. Since then he’d always wished to speak to her again, but he hadn’t known how to approach her. In former times she’d often come down to the great halls for meals, mostly sitting at Dumbledore’s left side. However, after his death she’d made herself sparse and was rarely seen outside her informatory anymore. Harry, feeling exceptionally happy and healthy since Voldemort’s demise, never came there anymore and so he hadn’t found an opportunity to talk to the mediwitch.
Obviously she was ready with what she’d done because she was shrinking the cradle, put it in a pocket of her robe and stored her wand in her sleeve. Getting up she smiled at Ginny and Harry who’d arrived at the grave. “Hello – how nice of you to come here. And here I was already wondering who always puts flowers here.” She looked approvingly at the yellow rose Ginny was carrying. “Very suiting! You know,” now she was almost grinning, “just the other week I was discussing what to plant on Severus’ grave with Professor Sprout. She would have parted with one of her beautiful new roses – you know, the dark red one with the golden rim. Only Professor McGonagall didn’t approve. She thinks Severus would start to spin in his grave if we’d plant Gryffindor roses on it. So I’ve got him silver lilies. I hope they’ll thrive and prosper here.”
“I’m sure they will!” Ginny said and made it sound, as if she’d kick the lilies personally if they dared wilting.
Harry in the meantime smiled rather sheepishly at Poppy Pomfrey. On the one hand he wanted very much to ask her for another appointment, on the other hand – wouldn’t it hurt her to talk about her lost love? He absolutely detested the idea of giving this warm hearted and generous woman even more grief. So, after clearing his throat, he simply said: “It’s good to see you, Madam Pomfrey.”
“It’s good to see the two of you,” she replied. “I was actually thinking of sending you another invitation. I only wasn’t sure when it would suit you. I take it you’re rather busy with preparing for your NEWTs?”
“Actually not so much,” Harry gave back. “Professor Perkins released me from doing any housework, Professor Flitwick and Professor van Eycken mostly want us to practise – and well, in matters of Charms and Transfiguration I got my share of practise last year.”
“And when it comes to Defence against the Dark Arts, you probably can teach Professor Perkins a thing or two,” smiled Poppy. “You know Headmaster McGonagall is eagerly awaiting your and Mr Weasley’s application for the Auror’s Academy?”
“Really?” Harry beamed. He’d always wanted to become an Auror, but since Umbridge once had said that the Ministry probably wouldn’t approve of him, he’d been worried about his chances.
Once again Poppy seemed to have read his mind. Rolling her eyes, she said: “Really, Harry! Next week we’re going to elect a new Minister of Magic. I think we both know that there’s only one candidate with real chances: Kingsley Shacklebolt. He’d probably be very disappointed if you wouldn’t apply for the Academy. Besides,” now she was grinning at Ginny, “don’t you think Harry will look great in an Auror’s robe, Miss Weasley?”
“Oh yes!” Ginny smiled back. “I’ll have to watch him very closely then because of all the girls who will be after him!”
Harry felt himself blushing and almost angrily he said: “Only I’m not interested in any strange girls.”
“Sorry, Harry – I didn’t want to hurt your finer feelings,” Poppy immediately apologized. “I know you’re with Miss Weasley – and by talking about,” she looked once more at Ginny, “I wonder if Miss Weasley wouldn’t want to join the two of us for our next evening together.”
“Oh, I’d love to!” Ginny cried. “If you don’t mind …”
“Certainly not. And I’m sure, Albus would have approved too.” She laughed. “He would be happy and immensely smug if he could see the two of you together. He always prophesized it would happen one day and he was so convinced about it, that for a time Minerva McGonagall and I threatened to call him ‘Sybilus’ if he wouldn’t stop talking about you.”
“Oh my – was I so obvious?” Ginny asked.
Once more Poppy looked amused. “No, Miss Weasley, certainly not. However, we’re talking about Albus Dumbledore …”
“… who was probably the best Legilemens of our time”, Harry finished for her.
For a moment a wrinkle appeared between Poppy’s eyebrows. Then she firmly stated: “I don’t think it had anything to do with Legilemency. Albus always respected people’s privacy, therefore he only used Legilemency when he got an explicit invitation or in cases of mortal peril. Except of connecting to me – and I’m a well-trained Occlumens – I only know of one opportunity during the last years when he went into a mind uninvited.”
“Kingsley Shacklebolt!” Harry nodded. “At the day as Umbridge discovered our secret DADA group Kingsley Shacklebolt was one of the Aurors accompanying Minister Fudge to Hogwarts,” he explained to Ginny. “You remember there was Marietta Edgecombe and she was shortly before spilling the beans when the Headmaster used Legilemency for ordering Kingsley Shacklebolt to obliviate her.”
“Yes,” Poppy confirmed. “He felt lousy afterwards. Messing around in a student’s mind certainly wasn’t his idea about a Headmaster’s way to deal with his charges.”
Harry painted a circle in the soil with the tip of his shoes. There was something he’d always wanted to ask. “Madam Pomfrey,” he started, “do you know where the Headmaster was during the time Umbridge acted the Headmistress?”
Instead of Poppy Ginny answered first: “Wasn’t he at the Hog’s Head?”
Poppy laughed. “It was around this time he made the connection between Aberforth’s pub and Hogwarts. However, he was never too fond on goats and therefore staying at the Hog’s Head wouldn’t have appealed to him.” The sun was gone down and a cold wind was blowing up from the lake. Poppy shivered and pulled her robe closer around her shoulders. “Dears, I’m feeling chilly. Why don’t we go up to my chambers and have some hot chocolate, if you haven’t planned anything else?”
Harry looked at Ginny and both nodded in unison, Ginny adding. “I’d like that.”
“Well, then let’s go!” Poppy said and started to march towards the castle.
Harry, taking Ginny’s hand, followed her. “Madam Pomfrey, was the Headmaster with you during the time the Ministry searched for him?”
Poppy nodded. “Yes, or better said: When he slept he did so in our bed. And he was having most of his meals in our chambers. Nevertheless, I didn’t see much of him in these days – and not only because he made himself invisible whenever someone came around our part of the castle, but because he was doing a lot of Order’s business and dealing with the castle’s wards.”
Ginny giggled. “I knew it! He was the one who made the Headmaster’s study unapproachable for Umbridge! I was there as she tried to go up and it was so much fun! You should have seen her: For half one hour she tried it. First she ordered the gargoyle to open for her. Then she tried it with persuading it. It didn’t work either and so she called Filch and ordered him to open the staircase with force. Filch, always happy when getting an opportunity to destroy something, came with a big axe and an even bigger prybar, but just as he swung the axe for the first time, Peeves flooded around and yodelled the password. The Gargoyle opened and Filch fell in, Umbridge almost trampling over him because she was so eager to get up there. Behind her Malfoy and his cronies cheered as if she’d just discovered Merlin’s long lost spell book. Umbridge was already half up the stairs, but then they suddenly changed and became a slide. Boom – down she went, landing in front of the Gargoyle like a bug on its back, showing off her pink knickers …”
“Uah!” The idea of that made Harry shudder. “I’m glad I didn’t see them!”
“You can be!” Poppy assured him. “They really were exceptionally ugly as I learned after the Gargoyle had closed again. Dear Dolores,” she managed an almost perfect imitation of Umbridge’s famous girly voice, “came up to the infirmary because she’d got a nasty bump on her butt. The problem only was: Just one minute before her Albus had arrived. He stood in my office as she stormed in and immediately lifted her robe to show me the bump. In his eagerness to get out, Albus bumped again one of my closets and I needed to make up a story about a Boggart residing in there. Luckily Umbridge felt too injured and weak for getting rid off it herself and I, of course, played the dump nurse who hasn’t got a clue about such things. So Umbridge sent Severus up and I told him what really had happened. Since then he used to maintain that Albus would never dare coming close to a Boggart again because he’d fear it would appear as Umbridge in her pink knickers.”
“With dancing kitties on it!” Ginny chuckled.
“Uah!” Harry shuddered again. “You could have spared me that. I’m certainly getting a nightmare now!”
They’d arrived at the hospital wing and leading them through the painting guarding her chambers, Poppy grinned at Ginny. “Miss Weasley, if you’ll take an advice from an experienced, old witch: Never wear pink undies. Mr Potter obviously doesn’t like them.”
“Not at all!” Harry stated firmly, following Poppy into the cosy living room.
“Have a seat, dears!” Poppy offered. “And just give me a minute to change into something more comfortable. I don’t like wearing robes at home.”

She left the room while Ginny looked around. “It’s lovely here!” she stated. “Although,” she sat down next to Harry on the sofa, “I still feel gobsmacked. Just think about: During all our time here the Headmaster and Madam Pomfrey were a couple. They loved each other, they lived together – and we didn’t notice a thing! Of course, now knowing about it, I remember certain moments …”
“You do?” Harry rummaged in his memory, but couldn’t think of ever having seen something between Dumbledore and the school’s mediwitch which couldn’t have been interpreted as a part of a nice, comfortable relationship between a Headmaster and one of his employees.
“Of course I do!” Ginny answered and sinking her voice a bit, proceeded quietly: “Once, during my first year I got hungry at night and sneaked down in to the kitchen.”
“Really?” Harry was full of admiration. Even now, in his last year, he didn’t dare to sneak in the kitchen.
“Harry, I’m the sister of George and Fred!” For a few seconds Ginny’s eyes became sad as she said her dead brother’s name, but then she smiled again. “On my way back from there I saw Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster. Of course, I disappeared as quickly as possible behind an amour, but from there I could here them teasing each other. Dumbledore said, she’d knew him too well and she answered it would go the other way round too and, considering his notorious short attention span, she’d fear to bore him soon. Dumbledore stopped, turned to her and kissed her hand, saying: ‘Never! You should know that.’ Of course, at this time I thought he’s just gallant as always. You knew him – he was always up for a little flirt and always complimenting every woman who crossed his way. But coming to thinking about: He was dead serious in this moment.”
“Actually I can remember only once seeing them close together”, Harry said. “It was during one of my nights in the infirmary. I needed to go to the loo and by doing so, I passed Madam Pomfrey’s office. The door was slightly ajar and I heard quiet voices. I couldn’t understand what they talked about, but I became curious and sneaked a peek. Dumbledore stood next to Madam Pomfrey and she was holding his hand. Of course, I thought he’d have injured himself and she was tending to him. But probably I was wrong about that. Besides,” he scraped himself at the head, “I just remember something else: In the night as your father became bitten by Nagini, McGonagall got me up to the Headmaster’s office. We arrived as he’d just entered it too, but he hadn’t come from upstairs, but out of a side door. And he wore a dressing gown over a long night shirt and slippers.”
“Well, he probably came directly out of bed …”
“And as we know now: He mostly slept here. Nevertheless it’s hard to imagine. I mean, he was so much older than her!” Harry wondered.
“So what?” Ginny took his hand. “I’d love you even if you were one hundred years my senior. Besides Dumbledore was – even with being around hundred and fifty years old – still an attractive man.”
“Huh?” Harry looked at her as if she’d just told him she’d fallen in love with the great squid.
Ginny laughed, bent forward and kissed the tip of his nose. “Yes, Harry, really! These baby blue eyes, this silver mane and his lovely hands – he was quite handsome! And the body he hided beneath his robes – definitely not a dodderer’s one. He’d got nice, broad shoulders and strong arms. Okay, around the middle he was a bit soft in this time, but the small hips and the long legs made up …” Registering Harry starring open-mouthed at her, she stopped and chuckled. “Problem, darling?”
Harry shook his head as if he’d want to get his fuddled mind back to work. “Pray tell me, Ginny: How do you get to know about Dumbledore’s body?”
Once more Ginny laughed. “The summer three years before, sweetie! You know, we spent it at the Headquarters. Well, one day Dumbledore came there, just back from a mission, pretty dirty and sweaty. He wanted a shower before talking with Mad-Eye. While he was in the bathroom, the twins, messing around in the cellar, flushed out a ghoul. It stormed up and produced quite a ruckus. It really sounded as if an entire herd of Death Eaters would just have stormed the house. Hermione and I were in the hall of the second floor as it happened. Suddenly the door of the bathroom opened and out stormed Dumbledore, wand raised, dripping wet and only wearing his birthday costume.”
“He was naked?” Harry wasn’t sure if he really wanted to imagine the scene.
“Well, one mostly is when showering,” Ginny grinned. “And you know what? Dumbledore had got quite a cute, little but. It looked rather firm …”
“Oh sweet Merlin! As I said I’d like to more know about him, I didn’t mean exactly that!” Harry rolled his eyes.
“Well, if you need other details, you’ll have to ask Hermione”, Ginny’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I only saw his naked back, but she was the one who gave him a towel as he came back up, so she got him in his entire bare glory.”
“Don’t tell me more!” Harry whined. “I’m really not interested in …”
“… antic jewels?” Ginny seemed to enjoy making Harry squirm. Patting his arm she cheerfully added: “It’s good boys can’t get up in the girls’ dormitory. If you would hear what they use to talk about, you’d get the shock of your life! Just think about: One of Lav-Lav’s favourite subjects was her theory about the size and form of a wizard’s wand according with his you-know-what. And,” now she started to laugh so hard she almost couldn’t speak anymore, “you remember Snape’s wand? Long, slightly bend and really, really thin? Or Flitwick’s? Well, big things sometimes come in small packages …”
“Ginny!” Harry pleaded.
Ginny was merciless. Still chuckling, she proceeded: “Hermione was the one who finally proved Lavender’s theory wrong.”
“She told her that Ron’s you-know-what was neither broken nor ever spello-taped?” Now Harry was grinning too. “One should think Lav-Lav knew about that even before Hermione.”
“That’s probably why dear Hermione used another example.”
“Krum?” Harry asked curiously.
“Nope!” Ginny shook her head. “She’d only done a very little bit of snogging with him, so I don’t think she knows much about the content of his trousers. And at this time she certainly didn’t know Ron’s equipment either. She’d only ever seen one wizard without his robes – our Headmaster.”
Harry couldn’t help thinking of the Elder wand which had belonged to Dumbledore. “His wand was a rather delicate thing,” he murmured.
“Yep”, confirmed Ginny. “And that proved Lavender’s theory was wrong. Following Hermione the Headmaster’s broomstick was everything but ‘delicate’.”
Harry looked rather nervously at the door. “Hush, Ginny!” he whispered. “I don’t think Madam Pomfrey would approve of this subject. By the way: Where is she?”
Ginny shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have a clue.”


Just this moment the door opened and Poppy came in, wearing a white robe over brown trousers and a beige sweater. “Sorry, dears!” she apologized while throwing her robe over an empty chair. “One of the Hufflepuff’s first years at all the sweet Mummy had sent him. Small wonder: His stomach is upset now. I had to feed him a Potion and to comfort him a bit.”
“I’m sure he’s already feeling better”, Ginny said.
While Poppy ringed a little bell for calling a house-elf, Harry studied her. She looked exhausted and had lost weight in the last weeks. “Do you like your job at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey?” he asked.
“Oh yes, very much.” Poppy instructed the house-elf to get them cacao and some scones, then sat down in a chair and smiled at Harry. “As I started my career, I certainly didn’t think of becoming Hogwarts’ mediwitch, treating ingrown toe-nails, stomach aches and pimples. I’m the daughter of two Aurors, a Gryffindor and was once rather adventurous. Therefore I applied for a job in the Auror’s department, thinking of heroic things like undercover missions and getting people out of the enemy’s fire. Well, in the first years of my professional career that was what I did. Then, two years after Grindelwald’s fall, I married the Auror Julian Pomfrey who’d been involved in the Grindelwald mission. He was working on getting wizards and witches out of Russia where it was pretty dangerous for our kind during this time. I went to the Auror’s Academy first for becoming trained and learning Russian. Then I joined my husband in Moscow. We became specialist for spying at the Russian Muggle Ministries and infiltrating the groups around dark wizards which tried to take over there. It was very exciting and though it was highly dangerous, I loved it.”
“What went wrong?” Harry wanted to know after she’d fallen silent.
Poppy sighed. “My husband was killed and I had to flee from Moscow. After coming back my boss didn’t want me out on another mission so shortly afterwards after losing my husband. So for a while I had to do rather boring office work. Luckily it was only for a year, and then I got partnered with Alastor Moody. We’d worked together at the Grindelwald mission and got along pretty well. Only Alastor was kind of obsessed with work. At his side one really didn’t get much of a private life and after a few years I started to miss it. Besides I’d met Albus again and the longer our relationship went, the more I became aware that our time was limited.”
The house-elf Apparated with a tray. Ginny was immediately on her feet, smiling at Poppy. “May I?” Poppy nodded gratefully and watched how Ginny served a steaming mug to her and Harry. Taking one herself, Ginny sat down again and asked. “Did you already know then that the Headmaster would die in the war against Voldemort?”
“Merlin, no!” Poppy answered, sipping cacao. “It was a long time before. As I came to Hogwarts, Tom Riddle just was a sixth-year-student here. I must admit I was quite taken with him. He was a very handsome and charming boy.”
Ginny swallowed and nodded. “I know,” she said quietly. “And if he wanted to, he could be very understanding.”
“He was clever,” Poppy confirmed, “and good in manipulating people. And in my case it was rather easy. He played the squire courting the unreachable lady and he did really well.” Sighing she reached for a stone. “I was a bit vulnerable at this time. Albus’ and my relationship was, to express it prudent, rather troubled at this time. I’d come to Hogwarts without talking it over with him before.”
“You wanted to surprise him?” Ginny asked.
Poppy bit in her scone and nodded. “Kind of – though I knew my dearest Albus and was aware that Headmaster Dippet presenting me as Hogwarts’ new mediwitch certainly wouldn’t count as ‘nice surprise’ in his book. But what should I have done? As I’ve mentioned before: Our time was limited. Albus was my senior of sixty one years and I knew he wouldn’t be around forever. I didn’t want to wait until he’d come to see the light – I mean, I’d already done that for almost twenty years and still he refused to see our relationship as something ‘steady’. Instead I got his ‘You’re too young, I won’t have you spoil the best years of your life stuck to an old man; you should get yourself another nice young wizard and found a family with him; I’m not a man a woman can become happy with’-speech almost every time we saw each other. Besides,” now she grinned again, looking much younger, “there was something else, something the great Albus Dumbledore feared even more as dark wizards: Marriage. To get him running a woman only needed to mention the terrible w-word: Wedding.”
Ginny looked sympathetically at the older witch. “It must have been hard for you.”
Harry once again squirmed a bit. Ginny obviously remembered how he’d once told her that he couldn’t make her happy. Taking her hand under the table, he shortly squeezed it and got a tender smile as a reward.
“Not so much, Miss Weasley,” Poppy said now. “I knew Albus loved me and I also knew the only way of making him accept our relationship was kicking him – as hard as possible – over the wall he’d erected around himself.” She looked at Harry who was still studying Ginny’s profile and smiled wearily. “Dear me – I’m boring the hell out of you, poor Harry.”
Harry turned his head and shook it fiercely. “No! Certainly not, just on the contrary. I’m listening. You know, I came because I wanted to learn more about how the Headmaster really was. And you’re just showing me a side of him I never knew about. It’s fascinating.”
“Definitely!” Ginny agreed. “And touching! I’d like to know what happened as you came to Hogwarts – if you wouldn’t mind talking about, Madam Pomfrey.”
Poppy swallowed her scone. “If that is so – well, then: Armando Dippet – Albus’ predecessor as Headmaster – proudly presented me as Hogwarts’ new mediwitch at dinner one evening. He was very pleased with himself because he’d found me without Albus’ help. Only Albus wasn’t happy. Of course, during dinner he was very polite, but as soon as we were out of the great hall, he – bristling with anger – commanded me into his office where I got his opinion about this ‘absolutely harebrained, extraordinarily unsuitable and inappropriate’ move of mine. And if I would have thought that my employment at Hogwarts would change his thinking about our ‘affair’ one iota, I’d be as wrong as his brother as he’d once tried earning a fortune with dancing goats. Having come so far – and rather loudly – he needed to breath …”
“What? He yelled at you?” Harry couldn’t believe it. “I can’t imagine the Headmaster yelling!”
Poppy laughed. “Dear Harry! Albus rarely yelled, but when he became furious, he was really good at it. To quote Phineas Nigellus Black: ‘No one chews butt as well as Albus when he’s in a rage.’”
“It must have been hell for you,” Ginny said.
“It didn’t last long,” Poppy replied. “As he stopped for getting air, I used the break, asking him sweetly if he wouldn’t want to open the windows because the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest probably hadn’t heard him yet. Well, if looks could kill, I’d have probably dropped dead at the spot. The next I got was a very quiet: ‘Out before I forget about being a gentle wizard!’ Being quite familiar with him I knew that a quiet Albus is a dangerous Albus and therefore I took my leave.” She fell silent, eating her scone.
Ginny fidgeted impatiently on the sofa. “What happened then?” she urged.
“Tom Riddle,” Poppy answered dryly, swallowing. “Albus, pig-headed like a mule, avoided me for six weeks. When he couldn’t, he was perfectly polite, but as warm as an escimo’s butt after a slide down the glacier. Perhaps it was this frostiness which gave Riddle – he’d injured himself during a Transfiguration class and Albus had to accompany him to the infirmary – the idea that he could rattle Albus’ cage with courting me. The little snake loathed Albus’ guts and he used me for having a go at him. He brought me flowers, he waited for me when I came down to meals, and he showered me with the sweetest compliments. Fool that I was I didn’t get what he really was after. Then, one Saturday in November, Riddle waited for me at the gates as I came back from Hogsmeade. He asked me if he could accompany me to the castle and because the path was rather slippery after a big rain, he gallantly offered me his arm. I didn’t notice we were already a bit late, but entering the castle, laughing and chatting together, we bumped in Albus who stood at the foot of the stairs in all his deputy headmasterly glory, looking at his watch and tapping his foot. He immediately was going at Riddle’s throat for being seven minutes late and deducted twenty five points from Slytherin. I thought this rather overdone and said so.”
“Oh, oh!” made Harry. “Why do I think this didn’t sit well with Professor Dumbledore?”
“Because you knew him?” Poppy smiled, but became immediately serious again. “It got me the next summon in his office and this time the centaurs certainly understood every word despite of the closed windows. Albus told me that my behaviour would have been irresponsible, inappropriate, embarrassing and utterly unprofessional. I should be ashamed of flirting with a schoolboy and for one thing I could be sure: He wouldn’t become jealous, but only disgusted by such childish, silly games. That was when I lost it and told him that the world doesn’t revolve around him. Besides I was informing him …” she suddenly stopped, blushed and said: “It wasn’t quotable. Minerva McGonagall would want my head if I’d repeat it in front of you.”
Ginny, almost bursting with curiosity, made puppy eyes. “Please, Madam Pomfrey – an alleviated version?”
Poppy sighed. “Well, but I beg to consider: I’d been working for years with Alastor Moody before and his vocabulary – it had been enriching, but certainly not suitable for a lady.”
“Oh – you did use the f-word?” Ginny grinned. “My brothers do so all the time.”
“Oh, Miss Weasley, it was even worse!” Poppy confessed. “I said something about it being a pity that, despite of him behaving like a certain body orifice, located on his backside, said part of his anatomy wouldn’t be big enough for stuffing his oversized ego in it. And because I was just at it – I never knew when to stop – I added something about his abilities in a special department being good, but not so good that every woman who’d ever had the pleasure of learning about would spend the rest of her life pinning on him.”
“Hard stuff!” Ginny grinned.
“Let me guess: It got you another kick out from his office?” Harry asked.
“He hated to repeat himself.” Poppy laughed. “So I wasn’t kicked out again. Instead he looked at me and said, almost sounding amused: ‘And here I thought that is just what you doing here.’ It made me so utterly furious that I tried to slap him. However, his reflexes had always been extraordinarily good. He caught my hand before I could hit him. And there we stood, rather close to each other …”
“And he kissed you?” Harry said eagerly.
Poppy looked at Ginny who smiled back and commented: “Harry’s a closeted romantic!”
“Obviously!” agreed Poppy. “But no, Harry, we didn’t kiss – at least not immediately. We both started to laugh and couldn’t stop ourselves for the next five minutes. Then he apologized for behaving like a git and I said I was sorry about insulting him. We started to talk sensibly and in the end we agreed to give our relationship a new try.”
“And then it was happily ever after?” Ginny wanted to know.
“Now you are the romantic!” Harry stated. “I suppose it was still not easy. You had to hide your relationship and to fear so much for him in the next years …”
“It was sometimes a bumpy ride,” Poppy confirmed. “But,” she looked at the clock on her mantelpiece, “that’s something for another evening and actually I’d intended to tell you about Albus’ childhood and youth as far as I know about. However, it’s fifteen minutes to curfew. You should go, but if you’d like to we could meet again at Thursday after dinner.”
“Oh, I’d love to!” Ginny stood up and offered Poppy her hand. “It’s so nice of you to include me! I really appreciate it and I’m very much looking forward to Thursday. I think I could for hours listen to your story.”
“So do I.” Harry stepped next to Ginny. “Thank you, Madam Pomfrey.”

to be continued