Post by LinZE on Apr 19, 2005 6:54:41 GMT -5
I don't usually respond to challenges but this one sparked something. I have some experience with scars and although Minerva's sacr is no-ones but her own there are elements of real life and experience inter-woven in this fic.
Hope you enjoy!
xLx
Minerva McGonagall was not what she, or anyone else for that matter, could refer to as a vain witch. She knew what she liked to wear and what she thought it was appropriate for someone in her position to look like but she had never been one to stand in front of the mirror for hours on end. She had better things to do with her time, but that was what she found herself doing now. She had already run her bath but having stripped out of her clothing and placed it carefully in the laundry basket she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and had been unable to tear her eyes away from the reflection in the glass. After what seemed to have been an eternity she lifted a hand and ever so gently ran her fingertips over the shinny convoluted scar tissue that marred her chest. It was the first time since the incident involving Dolores Umbridge that she had really seen what the lasting effects of the encounter were going to be. Up until that morning her torso had been swathed in pressure charms designed to stop the formation of excess scar tissue after severe burns.
Burning. She remembered the sensation all to well, the feeling that someone had just poured molten led onto her skin, the feel as the fiery pain spread like rivers of liquid before it became too much and she blacked out. The effects of multiple stunning spells landing simultaneously on the same area of flesh tended to result in third degree burns, or so Minerva had been told by an overenthusiastic medi-witch upon waking up in St Mungo’s. It was the same child who had explained that burns as severe as those she had suffered were so prone to infection that she would have to spend at least the next two days in the sterile white room in which she currently lay.
Much to her chagrin there was little she could do to object, so she spent forty-eight hours staring at the ceiling and trying not to breathe to deeply. Minerva was not a fool though, she was grateful really that magical healing meant that her stay in the hospital had been so short compared to the length of stay a muggle could have expected. And now after only three weeks she had had the ‘pressure-vest’ as they had referred to the network of charms as, removed.
She jumped at the sound of the door opening and Albus voice calling out through their quarters.
“Minerva?” His tone was light hearted but soft, as though he was not sure what it was that he would find on returning home so much earlier than had become the norm of late. There were so many demands on his time after all, and though he never mentioned it once, she knew that he missed the help she provided if even only on a secretarial level. Doing nothing had never been something she excelled in, especially when there were things she knew needed doing but she had had her orders from the hospital and Poppy that she was to nothing but rest and relax for the first few weeks of the holidays.
“Minerva darling?” His second call stirred her into action as she summoned the silk dressing gown from the back of the door, shrugging it on and tying it securely at the waist before replying.
“Just a second.” She took a moment to check the mirror again before leaving though and clutched the lapels of her gown together to ensure they didn’t slip to expose the disfigurement that ran all the way up to the base of her neck.
Hope you enjoy!
xLx
Minerva McGonagall was not what she, or anyone else for that matter, could refer to as a vain witch. She knew what she liked to wear and what she thought it was appropriate for someone in her position to look like but she had never been one to stand in front of the mirror for hours on end. She had better things to do with her time, but that was what she found herself doing now. She had already run her bath but having stripped out of her clothing and placed it carefully in the laundry basket she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and had been unable to tear her eyes away from the reflection in the glass. After what seemed to have been an eternity she lifted a hand and ever so gently ran her fingertips over the shinny convoluted scar tissue that marred her chest. It was the first time since the incident involving Dolores Umbridge that she had really seen what the lasting effects of the encounter were going to be. Up until that morning her torso had been swathed in pressure charms designed to stop the formation of excess scar tissue after severe burns.
Burning. She remembered the sensation all to well, the feeling that someone had just poured molten led onto her skin, the feel as the fiery pain spread like rivers of liquid before it became too much and she blacked out. The effects of multiple stunning spells landing simultaneously on the same area of flesh tended to result in third degree burns, or so Minerva had been told by an overenthusiastic medi-witch upon waking up in St Mungo’s. It was the same child who had explained that burns as severe as those she had suffered were so prone to infection that she would have to spend at least the next two days in the sterile white room in which she currently lay.
Much to her chagrin there was little she could do to object, so she spent forty-eight hours staring at the ceiling and trying not to breathe to deeply. Minerva was not a fool though, she was grateful really that magical healing meant that her stay in the hospital had been so short compared to the length of stay a muggle could have expected. And now after only three weeks she had had the ‘pressure-vest’ as they had referred to the network of charms as, removed.
She jumped at the sound of the door opening and Albus voice calling out through their quarters.
“Minerva?” His tone was light hearted but soft, as though he was not sure what it was that he would find on returning home so much earlier than had become the norm of late. There were so many demands on his time after all, and though he never mentioned it once, she knew that he missed the help she provided if even only on a secretarial level. Doing nothing had never been something she excelled in, especially when there were things she knew needed doing but she had had her orders from the hospital and Poppy that she was to nothing but rest and relax for the first few weeks of the holidays.
“Minerva darling?” His second call stirred her into action as she summoned the silk dressing gown from the back of the door, shrugging it on and tying it securely at the waist before replying.
“Just a second.” She took a moment to check the mirror again before leaving though and clutched the lapels of her gown together to ensure they didn’t slip to expose the disfigurement that ran all the way up to the base of her neck.
great responce
