Fly, little ballerina

11. Madame Pomfrey

Saturday 27th September 1995 – 5 minutes later: Hogwarts, Scotland

"So, Miss Potter, care to explain what happened?" Madame Pomfrey stood with her hands on her hips, clearly not in the mood to deal with whatever she had gotten herself into. She guessed that her brother had been in here one too many times.

"I was in bed and then I couldn't breathe. I tried to get up, but everything was very dizzy. Just as I stood up, I rushed to the toilet to vomit. When I tried to get up again, I collapsed onto the floor. It took a couple minutes for me to even stand up again. I remember managing to get to the Professor's quarters and then I think I collapsed."

Madame Pomfrey's face turned serious, clearly not expecting something. Perhaps this was more serious than she had originally thought? "Did you feel anything else?" The fact that she suspected other symptoms meant she had to have an idea of what this was, right?

Mila' eyes met Madame Pomfrey's. "I was boiling, and it was impossible to see or think clearly. I felt like I was underwater."

Madame Pomfrey nodded. Before she could say anything else, Slytherin interrupted, "What does that mean?"

Madame Pomfrey looked irritated. She had previously insisted that he stay quiet if he was going to stay. Apparently, it wasn't common for house teachers to stay with their students in the infirmary, but Mila doubted that this specific case happened often.

That was why he stayed, to hear the diagnosis and the symptoms.

After giving him a stern look, Madame Pomfrey turned back to Mila. "When you vomited, was it acid reflux or something you've eaten?"

Mila thought for a minute, trying to recall the sensation and look of the bile. She had been trained to know what the difference, so she tried to use her skills inconspicuously. "I think it was everything in my stomach. I can't quite remember but I would say that there was more acid reflux than food."

While that might have meant something to the adults, Mila knew it was because she practically hadn't eaten anything for dinner last night. It was rather ironic.

Pomfrey looked thoughtful for a minute before she turned back to Slytherin, "You said Snape took her vitals." Slytherin handed her the rolls of parchment containing details of what happened. "Just give me a moment," said Pomfrey before she stalked off to a desk in the corner of the vast room.

Mila took the opportunity to lie down on her infirmary bed. She was so exhausted. Before she knew it, she was almost asleep. Unfortunately, Madame Pomfrey took it upon herself to come back and ruin Mila's chance at sleep.

"Well, this is rather strange, Miss Potter." Slytherin sat up straight at this, slightly uncomfortable in the infirmary armchair.

Mila, annoyed she would miss more sleep, sat up and glared at Pomfrey subtly. "What is it?"

"Unfortunately, I have seen this before. It may have been a reaction to something you ate. Some of your symptoms were not unlike those of a panic attack but the severity of them suggests otherwise. You would have had to go through something rather traumatic but that wouldn't be possible with you upbringing."

What would she know about my upbringing. Mila didn't know what to say – its not like she was about to admit everything to them. Yeah no. That would get her killed for sure.

"Then what exactly is she supposed to do to make sure this doesn't happen again?" Slytherin looked rather agitated.

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do but give you some health repleading potions." Madame Pomfrey seemed apologetic. "How are you feeling now, dearie?"

"Tired." Mila just wanted to sleep.

"I think we best keep you here for observation and if you are well tonight you can go back to your dorms."

At that, Slytherin up and left after nodding to Madame Pomfrey.

***

Mila had been floating in and out of consciousness, seriously regretting her decision to come to Madame Pomfrey. The infirmary reminded her too much of the one in Russia and as much as she wished to forget everything, she couldn't help but focus on all the similarities of the two places.

It was a cold room, small windows which limited the amount of light shining through, the beds were lined up in intimidating rows.

Basically, her nightmares had just come to life and by the time it reached 18:00 pm, Mila made sure to make herself seem as healthy as a bunny. There was no way Madame Pomfrey was keeping her in here for a second longer.

Just as Madame Pomfrey left to go collect some more ingredients, Mila left her a little note saying 'Felt wayyy better. Thanks a lot. – Mila.' And then proceeded to run all the way back to the common room.

Unfortunately, her arrival was greeted by an unimpressed Professor Slytherin. "And why are not in the infirmary?" He raised his brow in her direction before looking back down at his newspaper.

"I felt way better."

"Miss Potter, I think you forget that I am a teacher and thus know when a student is lying straight to my face."

"I am not lying. Just because other students take ages to recover from slobbering sickness, doesn't mean I am willing to waste away in an infirmary made for dumb-as-dishwasher students."

Slytherin was rather amused. A student had never stood up to him in this way nor had he ever heard anyone call the infirmary a place for dumb students, although he supposed she wasn't entirely wrong.

"Well then Miss Potter, do not come running to our quarters should you feel the need to be sick again." Although Slytherin would have this to any other student he couldn't but feel as though he never should have said that. He ignored the thought as he turned back to his newspaper.

Mila couldn't help but feel dejected but quickly pushed it away. The sorrow she felt from having a helping hand be snatched away was immediately replaced with morbid disgust at the name everyone had so keenly called her.

My name is Mila Romanoff, not Mila Potter and one day, they will remember that.