She walked quickly, trying not to think about the itching.
"Every single bloody time," she grumbled. "You'd think Poppy would keep a ready supply of the stuff handy."
The matron, however, had been out of the balm that soothed the hot tightness in her skin. Again. But never mind; Hagrid would be sure to have plenty. Someone of his size would need it, and he was the only other member of staff she knew of who shared her allergy.
She made her way across the darkened grounds, scratching absently at her arm. Rapping on the door of the gamekeeper's hut, she shifted from foot to foot impatiently, listening to Fang's booming barks.
"Good evening, Hagrid," she said shortly, when he opened the door.
"Evenin', Minerva." He caught sight of her face, red and swollen. "Allergies bad again? Well, come in."
He stood aside to let her enter, and took down a large jar from a shelf.
"Ironic, isn' it? You bein' allergic ter cats?"
"Quite," she replied grimly, shrugging out of her robes.