entanglements | d.m.

27.diseased

November '98 | H I M

On day six, a random Wednesday, is when Draco regretfully breaks the spell of silence.

He has noticed for the last twenty-four hours how pale Devyn has gotten. Has noticed the bin in their dorm overflowing with tissues and the slight cough that fills the still air between them.

Devyn, like most, has fallen victim to the flu spreading around the castle, and it's only getting worse more rapidly.

This time yesterday, she was well on her feet, actively participating in class. Today, her head keeps tipping to the side. Her limb movement is languid, as though it takes great effort to write down whatever Oakes is droning about.

When her head nearly slips onto his shoulders, he tips his gaze to her. "Everything alright, Wood?"

" 'S fine."

Slurring her words? Yeah, na.

"Go to bed," he whispers as to not interrupt the lesson, "I'll take your notes." 

She looks at him like he just requested they do it infront of the whole class. "Do not tell me what to do."

"You're sick."

"You're sick," she retorts stuffily.

"Mh. Mature."

"Suck it."

Rolling his eyes, he tries, "Take some medication, at least. After this lesson."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she sniffs, wiping her red nose with a tissue. "I'm fine. I told you."

"You're about to fall asleep and you move like my grandfather before he snuffed it."

"Lovely imagery," she drawls, putting a hand to her forehead that he has no doubt is burning up. Her brows knit together, glancing at him. "You knew him?"

He tries not to feel offended. "Why does that surprise you?"

"You just seem..."

"Seem what?"

"You Malfoys..." Devyn trails off wearily, holding her head with the elbow on the table as she breathes deeply.

"I'll have you know," he indulges because whatever image she has of him in her mind, he feels inclined to clear up. "I had a rather close relationship with him. Much closer than with my father anyway."

"Is that so," she muses, not in any state of mind to hold a proper conversation.

Seeing her close to empty page, Draco makes a mental note to copy his outlines and rather listen than chatter. For it is in Potions after lunchbreak that things turn more drastic.

Draco takes on the job of walking around the classroom and gather the ingredients needed while Devyn remains at the table, taking charge of the cauldron.

She keeps messing up by stirring the wrong way and taking too long to add too little wolfsbane leaves, which means he has to keep getting more ingredients to save the potion.

As stubborn as she is by not acknowledging her ailment, which is certainly relatable to the Charms test they have the very next day, Draco keeps an eye out to her constant need of keeping herself steady.

And when she begins to sway that one time over the heat of the cauldron, he immediatly jumps the distance he has to cover on one of his ingredient trips. The one second longer it takes him, out of bloody nowhere, Malone Two is at her side, steadying her.

"Off," Draco barks at the Gryffindor as he holds her partly limp body to himself. "I got her. Kettleburn," he starts but the teacher is already heading their way because of the scene this caused.