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Madam Rosmerta was a strikingly beautiful woman, with graceful curves and a warm, vibrant personality.
Even twenty years later, Ron Weasley would blush at the sight of her, secretly smitten for quite some time.
Ever since Madam Rosmerta took up residence in the hospital wing, the atmosphere at Hogwarts had shifted. Male students were suddenly falling ill or injuring themselves, as if they'd planned it together.
The once-empty hospital wing was now packed to the brim.
Madam Pomfrey, faced with this chaotic scene, had to unleash her wrath, shooing out the boys who were clearly healed but lingered in their beds, feigning illness.
When Pandora learned that Patrick Abbott had somehow suffered a sudden lapse in memory, gotten his leg caught by that mischievous trick step, and sprained his ankle, requiring a stay in the hospital wing, she decided to visit him purely out of concern for her friend.
"Are you sure you want to go?" Snape's tone carried a hint of oddity. "Trust me, there's nothing worth seeing there."
"But we're friends," Pandora said, her large eyes blinking, long lashes fluttering. "You should come with me."
"Er, fine." Faced with her sparkling gaze, Snape found himself unable to refuse and reluctantly agreed to accompany her to the hospital wing.
"Where are you hurt this time?" Madam Pomfrey asked Snape, her face darkening as she eyed him suspiciously from head to toe.
"Not hurt. We're here to visit a friend," Pandora said brightly, stepping forward with a spring in her step. "Patrick Abbott."
"Oh," Madam Pomfrey's expression softened considerably at the sight of Pandora. She nodded gently. "You can go in. He's in bed six."
Pushing open the door, Snape immediately spotted Abbott.
One of his feet was wrapped in a poultice of green herbs, and he held a copy of How to Brew Firewhisky with Your Cauldron: The Ultimate Secrets, flipping through it with an exaggerated sway of his head.
But his eyes kept darting sideways, a peculiar smile on his face, as if he thought his demeanor was terribly refined and profound.
Following Abbott's gaze, Snape saw, a few beds away, Madam Rosmerta reclining against a pile of feather pillows.
She wore a silk dressing gown embroidered with dragons, its color perfectly complementing her skin. Her slender, pale feet rested casually on the mattress, her toenails shimmering with a soft pink hue.
The room was bathed in sunlight. An owl, clutching a newspaper in its beak, swooped in through the window.
Madam Rosmerta gracefully reached out to take a copy of The Daily Prophet from its beak. Then, she retrieved five Knuts from a nearby table and slipped them into a small leather pouch tied to the owl's leg.
After receiving its delivery fee, the owl flapped its wings and soared back out through the open window.
"Hey, Abbott," Pandora said, approaching his bedside with concern. "How are you holding up?"
"As you can see," Abbott said, reluctantly tearing his gaze away. He snapped his book shut with a dramatic flourish, his face contorted in mock agony. "My ankle's sprained. I've got to take it easy."
"Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey be able to fix it in the blink of an eye?" Snape asked skeptically.
"Well, you don't know," Abbott sighed deeply, his expression one of exaggerated helplessness. "My ankle was bitten by a Horklump when I was a kid. Ever since then, healing charms don't work so well on it. I've got to rely on herbal poultices and wait for it to recover slowly."
"What kind of game are you playing?" Snape whispered, leaning close to Abbott's ear.
He knew full well that a Horklump was just a fleshy, pinkish, mushroom-like magical creature. The biggest thing it could bite was a tiny earthworm. How could it possibly cause such a lingering injury?
"Shh!" Abbott glanced at Pandora, worried she might overhear, and hurriedly whispered back to Snape, "It's Impedimenta. I used Impedimenta."
"Your nonverbal spells are awfully convenient right now," Snape muttered.
Snape had barely finished mocking Abbott when he realized why his friend had gone to such lengths.
Madam Rosmerta let out a languid hum, drawing every eye in the room.
All heads turned to see her set down her newspaper and give a delicate yawn, like a kitten just waking from a nap.
She sat up, stretching slowly, her movements revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her figure.
Then, with effortless grace, she stood, slipping her feet into a pair of exquisite, fluffy high-heeled slippers. She sauntered toward Abbott's bed, her every step exuding charm.
Abbott's jaw dropped, his words stumbling. "L-Lady… hello, thank you."
Madam Rosmerta gave him a puzzled glance, clearly unsure why he was thanking her.
Ignoring Abbott's odd behavior, she turned her attention to Snape, her face lighting up with a captivating smile. "Hello, Severus."
Her height was striking—she stood half a head taller than Snape, even now.
Faced with the statuesque Madam Rosmerta, Snape didn't know where to look. He managed a stiff, "Hello, Madam Rosmerta."
"You've finally come," she said with a light laugh. "I've been waiting for you all day."
"What?" Snape froze, blurting out, "Why would you be waiting for me?"
"I wanted to thank you in person," Madam Rosmerta said. "Minerva told me that if it weren't for you, I might not have seen today's sunrise."
Snape thought to himself: If it weren't for me, that Inferius probably wouldn't have gotten out of control in the first place.
"You know, the owlery at the post office is right next to The Three Broomsticks. That night was truly dangerous. I owe you my thanks—for myself and for my ancestors who were… disturbed."
As she spoke, Madam Rosmerta dramatically patted her chest, the air around her seeming to ripple with the gesture.
"Abbott, what are you staring at?" Mary's displeased voice suddenly cut through the hospital wing.
Unnoticed by the others, Mary had arrived at the hospital wing and now stood by Abbott's bed, glaring at him with evident irritation.
"Nothing," Abbott said quickly, hastily averting his eyes from Madam Rosmerta.
"I bet your 'nothing' didn't even spare you a glance," Mary said sharply, tossing a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans onto Abbott's lap in a huff.
"Well, then," Madam Rosmerta said, watching the scene with amusement before turning back to Snape. "I should be getting back, Severus."
"You must come by my place sometime. The latest batch of oak-matured mead is almost ready. I'm sure you'll love it…"
With a gentle wave of her hand, a bellflower-blue wizarding robe floated to her side.
She slipped it on, the hem of her dressing gown still faintly visible beneath.
With her fluffy high-heeled slippers clicking softly, Madam Rosmerta disappeared through the doorway.
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