I Saw You Smile Again

Minerva

She awoke in cold sweat.

Amelia's eyes were fixated on a white ceiling. Suspiciously familiar, it was... She gasped for breath. The sterile smell pushed her further into the realm of sensibility. Her vision began to shake. Something lime green bustled around her and what she presumed to be a bed.

The image of reality was a blur.

Lightning hit her head. It began to rain. Memories, not water. His smile. His fingers, as they let hers go. Him – fading. A rainbow, as she fell onto the Earth like a banished angel. Now here she was, gripping the rough sheets, missing the feeling of wet grass on bare skin.

"More calming draught!"

"Alsie, go get some new sheets–"

Despite the many hushed voices coming from every corner and every crack, a sense of tranquility washed over her, making her close her eyes again. The white on her knuckles retreated as her grip on the sheets loosened. Her breathing calmed. The sweat covering every perceivable inch of her skin was wiped off with a cloth by invisible hands.

"...stabilizing..."

She gave herself over to the gardens of darkness.

|||

Amelia tried to grab the cup of water standing on the small table next to her hospital bed, but it was to no avail. Only a few hours had passed since she had woken up; she was exhausted. Trying to utilize wandless magic didn't solve the problem either. Her magical reserves were exhausted. She let her right hand – the one without a bandage – fall onto the sheets. Defeated.

Frankly, she found her whole situation to be beyond frustrating.

Alright, she had been attacked by You-Know-Who. Alright, she had almost died. (Certainly would have, had she not mustered up remnants of her strength to apparate to St Mungo's from where she had lain outside in the dirt. Reminiscing, she imagined she had made quite a sight crouching on the hospital floor, considering all that blood and mud.)

But, really, she just wanted to get back to work.

Pius Thicknesse had been appointed her temporary replacement. He certainly was a kind man, very calm, but these characteristics didn't automatically make a person able to shoulder the hard work being the Head of the DMLE brought with it. Letting her doubts aside, the Ministry had gotten itself into big turmoil as well, as she had been told by Jesica, her younger sister. (As to the matter of personal visits, they only allowed close family into her room as of now, well-being of the patient and basic safety measures being the main reasons. Amelia was currently awaiting the arrival of Ministry officials though – she knew regular procedure.) Rufus Scrimgeour had just been appointed Minister of Magic and many were apprehensive concerning his political skills, what with him having more experience of the military sort. Amelia just hoped he would prove to be a better politician than his predecessor. Merlin, almost anybody would be a better politician than bloody Cornelius Fudge.

Originally, Amelia herself had also been in on the run for the position of the Minister (been the top candidate, really), though she had not particularly desired it. The attack on her person seemed to have scared off the masses, made them root for Scrimgeour instead. Just as well. A temporarily restricted individual like herself couldn't very well be the leader of a country at the beginning of something that wasn't unlikely to morph into a Second War anyway, could she?

A rather young witch with brown hair came bustling into Amelia's room – high-security, as she had realized soon after waking up – with a tray of food, which would be her lunch. A steaming bowl. Soup? The other witch put it next to the filled cup the blonde hadn't reached earlier, glancing at it with green eyes that reminded Amelia of a snake's skin in its prime. Her nameplate read Alsie Harper.