Isn't He Lovely-Professor Snape

Year 6 Pt 7

The following morning greeted me with a smile, a residual warmth from the events of the previous night. It felt like a potent remedy, infusing me with newfound strength and a sense of well-being.

However, Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping me for the day, prioritizing caution over my eagerness to return to the normalcy of life. Her words about refraining from Quidditch hit me with an unexpected wave of frustration.

"What do you mean, no Quidditch?" I couldn't conceal the anger in my voice, my passion for the sport evident.

"You need time to fully heal, dear, and two months will fly by in no time!" Her attempt to downplay the situation did little to ease my disappointment. She understood the significance of Quidditch in my life.

"We can't risk it. Now, drink and eat; otherwise, you are spending the n-" She didn't need to finish the sentence; my impatience spoke louder than her warning.

Without hesitation, I downed the water and attacked the food on my plate. The prospect of being confined for even a moment longer fueled my urgency to leave the confines of the hospital wing.

The healing process was underway – my arm and most of my ribs fully restored, while my leg and head required additional time. Despite the lingering injuries, I acknowledged my fortunate escape from a potentially tragic fate.

The day unfolded at a sluggish pace. During her free period, Hermione paid me a visit, diligently catching me up on the school events I had missed. Our schedules aligned, except for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

She handed over a trove of homework and notes from the lessons, accompanied by heartfelt messages from our teachers, expressing gratitude for my recovery and urging me not to rush my return.

Ron made a brief appearance during the potions class, displaying a tinge of jealousy towards Harry's newfound prowess.

"I'm happy you're leaving today!" Ron exclaimed.

"So am I! You have no idea how thrilled I am to leave this place – no offense, Madam Pomfrey! You've kept me sane!" I smiled at her, realizing the bittersweet farewell awaiting me. "You've been a pleasure, deary, but respectfully, I hope I don't see you again because I hate seeing you hurt!"

I reciprocated with a smile and a warm hug. Madam Pomfrey had become a comforting presence, almost like a second mother. I would miss waking up to her caring presence.

"You better get back to potions, mister, or I'll be telling McGonagall," she snapped at Ron.

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving! Jeez, bye Niamh! See you tonight!" Ron's parting words echoed as Madam Pomfrey ushered him away.

"Here's your last round of medicine. Why don't you take a quick nap, and when you wake up, you can leave!" She handed me the potion, which I downed with a grateful smile, succumbing to the sudden fatigue that enveloped me as I drifted into a peaceful slumber.

      𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼

"Niamh! Niamh, deary, wake up!" I felt a gentle tap from Madam Pomfrey.

The sun was still casting its glow, signaling the approach of sunset. Dinner time was imminent.

I opened my eyes, a wide smile stretching across my face. Slowly, I sat up, arms stretching cautiously. My ribs twinged with a dull ache, but I dismissed it, eager to break free from the confines of the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey provided clothes from my room, courtesy of Hermione. As I began dressing, she discreetly placed a privacy curtain around me and assured she would be right outside. I carefully navigated the process, mindful of my injuries. The soft, oversized sweater felt like a comforting shield. With a bit of help from Madam Pomfrey, I managed to put on the stretchy shorts Hermione had fetched, since my right leg was bandaged from the upper thigh down.