Whenever she got sad, there was 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲.
And on the other hand, whenever he got sad, there was 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.
Until they discovered something that only required both of them in the same room -- nothing else.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 �...
With the lightest footsteps possible, Pansy walked across the room to my bed.
Madame Pomfrey was busy feeding a student that had large boils all over their body, a potions mishap, as i've heard. A loud shriek could be heard every now and then when something accidentally touches their skin. Hence, ms. Pomfrey was being extra careful.
Pansy pulled the curtains to cover my area.
"Where's Danielle?" I asked as soon as she closed them.
"How would I know?"
"Well, maybe because you were with her three minutes ago." I rolled my eyes.
"I don't know. Maybe she went off thinking Pomfrey wouldn't let anyone in." She seated herself on the bottom part of the bed.
"She's right, you know."
"So," Ignoring my guilt-tripping statement, she went forward and whispered, "What did she say?"
"Fatigue."
"Fatigue?" Pansy loved to curl her words in exaggeration, and I had just noticed how much I was used to it when she did it a little harder than usual. "You mean you're not...you know—"
"No." I mumbled, withdrawing my eyes from her to stare at the curtains. "Thankfully."
"But- with the throwing up—with a simple scent—your missed period—you didn't use protection."
"The latter doesn't have anything to do with my situation," I said firmly. "It's all because of what i've been going through these days."
There was a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I retrieved the thoughts I had before I passed out in the great hall.
"How is she so sure?" She tilted her head in query.
"It's madame Pomfrey, Pansy." I sighed, moving my eyes to her direction. "And frankly, she made it clear that I need bedrest. So if you don't mind-"
"I'm not buying it," She pulled away from the bed, crossing her arms. She looked at me in suspicion, her dark eyes investigating my hospitalized state. "How are you not pregnant?"
Again, Pansy and her word-curling.
"Lower your voice." I sneered at her. "I'm not exactly sure how to answer that—but what matters is that i'm not—"
