20 Feet { Blarry }

chapter 3

"Blaise, are you alright?" Daphne asked, stepping into the common and walking over to the silent boy. Per usual, he was dressed immaculately, but he still looked horrid.

This early in the morning, Blaise was the only person in the large Slytherin common room. He was sitting near the empty hearth in one of two wingback chairs. Behind the chairs were several couches situated around a large green circular fur rug. The room had a surprisingly warm feeling that invited comfort and camaraderie as a common room should. Hanging on the walls were various portraits and tapestries baring the Slytherin crest. Below those were five sturdy desks scattered around the circular room for tutoring or studying. Aside from that, there were little knick knacks left behind by the younger students: books, throw pillows, and more. Despite the potential comfort the room had to give, it had no effect on the slumped sixth year.

Looking up at his friend, Blaise shook his head in honest answer. Most believed that Slytherins hid behind blank faces all of the time, but that wasn't true. They were human too, and around people they trusted they did allow some emotions to shine through. At school, whether they liked each member or not, there was no one they trusted more than the members of their house. That said; it wasn't surprising to find many of the Slytherin students pouting, shouting, or even crying within the confines of their dormitory. Still, even if Blaise wanted to hide his illness, at the moment, it would have been impossible. He felt like shit, and didn't have the energy or the will to hide it.

The Slytherin was suffering from chills, shortness of breath, fatigue, and nausea. Earlier, when he'd awoken he'd wanted to vomit, but he categorically refused to disgrace himself to that degree. He was also sweating more than usual, especially in the cool dungeon space. Honestly, Blaise felt like he was having a heart attack, and the increasing pressure in his chest was doing nothing to alleviate his fears.

Daphne pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and neck. "You're burning up, Blaise! You should go see Madame Pomfrey or at least Professor Snape."

Blaise shook his head. He felt awful, but it wasn't nearly as bad as his run-in with Dragon Pox last summer. He wasn't sure if this was a side-effect of the miscast spell the previous night, but he felt he could at least make it through the day. It was Friday, so he would have the entire weekend to deal with whatever this was and check on Potter. If the little bloke felt anything like he did at the moment...Blaise winced at the pressure increased in his chest and he had to gasp a quick breath as his lungs were crushed. He could hardly think straight, and he had a strong desire to leave the dungeons. Perhaps,

he just needed to eat a little. Some tea would definitely do some good for his roiling stomach at least.

"If I am still unwell after breakfast," he rasped, changing his mind after that last attack, "I will visit the infirmary. As it is, I don't think I can make it to the third floor as of yet."

Daphne nodded worriedly as she sat beside him and grabbed his hand. It was really clammy. "Are you sure you shouldn't go now?"

Blaise shook his head again and closed his eyes. For one reason or another, he was being really stubborn about it, and Daphne was being really persistent. Blaise snorted. He truly wasn't surprised; the girl had a split personality; he was certain. Although Daphne was loyal to her house in general, she was icy and cold to most of her housemates, but to a select few she was...overly solicitous. She was very protective of her baby sister. She doted on her, spoiling the girl rotten. Daphne gave into Astoria's every wish. Furthermore, she loved to mother Blaise and Draco when the boys allowed it.

"Here take this." Blaise cracked his eyes open and saw a potion vial thrust just beneath his nose. He followed it up to the slender hand holding it and further up to Draco's face.