Chapter 47: Disease

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Adrian woke up one fateful Thursday to a loud rumble of activity down the hall.

Normally, he wouldn't be bothered to get out of his bed, especially since he had equipped the locking charms on his door in place.

"Master?" Lutain inquired, poking his head out from his box.

Adrian ignored him, and curled tighter into his sheets.

Adrian heard the silky noise of Lutain's small scales sliding over the woven blanket around his shoulders.

"Master, they are closer."

"I don't have classes until this afternoon," Adrian mumbled back, voice thick with sleep as he didn't even bother to open his eyes.

"It is after noon," Lutain hissed back pointedly, voice deadpanned with the noticeable trace of concern.

Was it? He had slept through Charms.

The loud grumble of voices and many feet paused, standing quietly outside his room.

The door burst open with a rattling bang which impacted against the stone of the wall behind it, bouncing free and nearly closing it once more. Adrian startled, lifting himself onto one forearm as the other rapidly rubbed his eyes.

His lights were forced on and two imposing figures stormed across his room, grabbing his arms and hoisting him from his bed. Adrian protested with a squawk, sounding like Blaise's strange bird he had smuggled in.

"Let me go!" Adrian struggled, legs flailing behind him as he was dragged out of his room into the hallway, "What the bloody hell do you-"

Adrian's protests faltered weakly when he saw what the ruckus was about. Adrian's Head of House, Professor Snape, was standing with both arms crossed wielding an expression of downright umbrage.

Adrian struggled upwards once the two students released him (prefects, he recognized). He sniffed, trying to form some sort of decency with his disorderly hair and sleep glazed expression.

Snape's lip curled, his eyes almost narrowing as he observed Adrian's ill-composed self.

Adrian's scars itched from the scrutiny. Especially towards his left side, just along his chest.

"What do we have here," Snape spoke, each word soft and gentle. In Adrian's sleep suffocated brain, he almost giggled at the comparison to lacewing fly wings.

"Something funny, Mr. Selwyn?" Snape asked softly, "because I am not seeing any humor in this situation."

Adrian's smallest smile slipped off his face, "No sir."

"Then what, exactly, were you doing in your bed? Certainly not fulfilling those eight assignments you've failed to turn in."

Adrian's stomach twisted, pressing against his sternum painfully. He swallowed convulsively, trying his best not to show just how uncomfortable he was.

Snape was a teacher, he knew exactly how to see it anyways.

"No…" Adrian cleared his throat quietly, noticing how his first attempts to speak came out a whisper, "No sir."

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