Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and all these other people are characters belonging to J.K. Rowling. I claim no rights to them, their surroundings, or their situations. Much to my sorrow.

--- 7 Madame Pomfrey: Picking Up the Pieces

Poppy Pomfrey strode down the hallway and across the floor of the main room in an ill temper, effectively disguised by her usual air of brisk efficiency.

Severus Snape. If anyone was going to get himself seriously injured in this undertaking, it would most certainly be him. How many times, in the course of her tenure at the Academy, had she been called upon to rescue the man from his own legendary, mule-like stubbornness?

Potions gone awry, overzealous student pranks, the odd case of food poisoning or walking pneumonia...it was always the same story. Severus wouldn't come to her until matters had got so badly out of hand that the consequences of going without treatment frightened him worse than the alternative. Meaning that he would usually turn up on her doorstep in the middle of the night, suffering a condition already progressed to a life-threatening stage.

She'd got him through several close scrapes, warning him each time that his luck couldn't last indefinitely. It had become almost a ritual they went through for formality's sake, as they both knew that it would make not a whit of difference the next time around. She had come to think of Snape as a fatality waiting to happen.

So it was without surprise, though with a good deal of concern, that she approached the cot where the Potions Master now lay, the young Granger girl keeping watch over him with commendable vigilance. It was good to see that a few of the students thought well enough of the man to have sought help for him--an entire class had once walked out and left him unconscious in his classroom, after he'd suffered a concussion as part of a particularly nasty practical joke...

Miss Granger glanced up and, with a look of profound relief, made to get up and move out of the Healer's way. "Oh thank goodness, Madame Pomfrey--he was awake for a bit, but he's just gone under again..."

The girl's relief turned to a rather comically confused look as she discovered she had a small problem. Snape--who, indeed, gave every indication of being unconscious--had an iron grip on her hand. She tugged gently several times, trying to pull free, to no avail. "Ah..." Granger began, nonplused and reddening a bit.

"It's all right, dear, just sit right there and you won't be in my way," the Healer said resignedly. "In fact, if you saw him go down, you may be of some help. Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

As Hermione haltingly explained the sequence of events--with frequent interjections from Weasley and Potter, the latter looking frightfully embarrassed--Poppy conjured several delicate instruments; some magical equivalents of the Muggles' crude medical devices, others capable of diagnostic functions that mundane science could only dream of.

She checked his vital signs and was not at all reassured; waved the children silent so that she could have a careful listen to the injured man's respiration; then peered into his lungs with a scrying instrument specifically designed for that purpose. A quick divinatory charm confirmed her suspicion that he had consumed a cough suppressant potion--possibly before entering the school to set off his explosives; quite a sensible precaution, really, considering the environment he'd been working in, if only he had told someone!

Finally she set her tools down with a sigh and looked up at Minerva McGonagall, who was hovering silently in a state of ill-disguised anxiety. "Your Gryffindors are to be commended on their good sense, Minerva. If Mr. Potter hadn't thought to replace that mask, our good Severus would probably have asphyxiated before I got to him." She dismissed the instruments and stood. "His lungs are filling up with fluid. I'm admitting him to St. Mungo's at once."

Minerva flinched slightly at that, but nodded. "Very well, Poppy, I'll let Albus know..."

"Ah....Madame Pomfrey?" Granger squeaked in a small voice, tugging uselessly at her captive hand.

"Oh! Of course, child, I'm sure you don't want to be dragged along...Lacertus Laxo." She tapped Severus' white-knuckled hand gently with her wand, and his grip immediately slackened, allowing the girl to disengage her own hand. She rubbed at it absently, regarding Snape with a thoughtful expression.

"Actually..." she said slowly, "do you think...would it be all right if I came along? So that he...he won't have to be alone?" At this, the Weasley boy turned brilliant red and made an inarticulate sound of protest, only to be elbowed in the ribs by Potter.

Madame Pomfrey blinked, and opened her mouth to say no, that probably wasn't a very good idea. But then she hesitated. Glancing at Minerva, who was also privy to certain non-public facts about Severus, she raises her eyebrows slightly in silent query. "There are no rules against it, but you would have to have the permission of your Head of House..."

McGonagall seemed a bit nonplused, but pleased, and nodded slowly. "That is a very kind thought, Miss Granger. I don't think that that would be a problem, for a short time. Provided you can restrain your curiosity and not make a nuisance of yourself," she added sternly. The girl nodded soberly.

Young Weasley was now fairly apoplectic, sputtering in barely coherent indignation. "But...b-but 'Mione--!" Heavens, child, the Healer thought, he may be a former Death Eater, but it's not as though we're talking about You-Know-Who himself. Young people were so quick to accept (or reject) everything at face value...

Looking mightily confused but far more self-possessed, Potter tread firmly on the other boy's foot and told Granger, "Well...ah, I guess then, we'll see you soon. Just let us know...how it all goes..." He shook his head, seized Weasley by the arm, and escorted him firmly away.

Minerva regarded her colleague and longtime House rival wearily, and ruefully. "Good luck, Severus," she said softly. "Miss Granger, when you are ready to return, the hospital desk will know how to contact me. Don't stay too long." She started to turn away, but hesitated and then leaned over to whisper something to the young woman. Then she walked off, her shoulders slumping a little.

"Very well, then, Miss Granger. We'll take a portkey to the Emergency Room, and you'll have to stay in the waiting room for a bit while we get Professor Snape stabilised. Hopefully that should not take long." Poppy wished she were as confident as she tried to sound for the girl's sake.

"Mobilicorpus." Gesturing rapidly with their wands, she and her assistant levitated their patient and wrapped him snugly in heavy blankets, then set up the emergency one-shot portkey to St. Mungo's.

"He is going to be all right, isn't he?" Granger looked dubious. Perceptive child.

"Well, Miss Granger, I wish I could promise you he would be, but I'm afraid it's going to be touch and go for a while." Poppy smiled soberly at the young woman. "Professor Snape is not an old man, but he's no youth either, and he has never been as kind to himself as he ought. It has taken its toll, make no mistake. Still, thanks to you and your friends he does stand a very good chance. Now, off we go..."

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