"You're absolutely infuriating." He breathed out, pressing her body against the bookshelf with his own. His dark eyes brewed with irritation, and another emotion she couldn't quite decipher.
"Trust me." She said, her chest heaving with every bre...
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February 17th, 1947
The day went by painfully slow for Tom as he spent the most of it in and out of Cerys' room. Her temperature hadn't cooled down, nor had she bothered to open her eyes for more than a few minutes throughout the day. Now, Tom was pacing around the living room of the hotel, hands folded behind his back. She should've turned by now, shouldn't she have? Two days and yet she still hadn't felt better. What was going on? Was this really her animagus? Questions flew across his mind, and he was unsure on how to feel about it. Tom's eyes shifted up to the open bedroom door, catching a glimpse of Cerys. The large lump underneath the blanket rose and fell slowly.
Tom ran a hand through his hair as he let out a strained breath. What was he to do? He had considered leaving Cerys do get a few things done at one point, but as quickly as the thought came to him, it left. Cerys was not in the condition to be left alone. The brunette ground his teeth, the questions of what was happening to her rounding up in his head again. Should he take her to St. Mungo's? It would be incredibly risky, especially if this was her animagus. She, if not the two of them, would most likely be arrested.
Tom's attention was suddenly captured by the girl in the room before him when she let out a noise. On high alert, Tom rushed into the room. Cerys let out another noise, one akin to a pained groan. For a moment, Cerys struggled under the blankets, her hands and feet flailing about to get it off. It didn't take long for her to throw it to the floor as she sat up in the bed. Without a thought, Tom helped her sit up, anxious to see what would happen next. The first thing he noticed, as he stood by her side, was her hair. From the root down, half of it had turned white. It was then that Tom sighed out in relief. Thank Salazar, it was her animagus.
Cerys doubled over her stomach, falling her side on the bed as a strangled cry. She curled up, or at least, tried her best to curl up into a ball. Her cheeks had flushed into a deep red, the freckles on them disappearing from the color.
"To-om." Cerys groaned, coughing out in pain. Within seconds, Tom's distress reappeared. This had never happened before. He hadn't seen her in this much pain the last time.
Tom snapped out of his state of panic when he heard his name once more. His hands gently placed themselves on her arms-- for what reason? He wasn't sure; possibly in efforts to comfort her? "I'm here, I'm here." He mumbled, barely registering his words. He carefully pulled the girl up from her fetal position. Again, he wasn't sure what he was doing.
Cerys hissed, bringing her legs up against her chest. Everything hurt; it burned. Her head felt heavy, her chest was blazing, her chest constricting and her cheeks full of heat as she pressed the side of her face purposelessly against Tom's chest. She had no clue as to what was happening and why it was happening. Did Tom finally find the courage to poison her? Crucio her?
