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ENOCH DOESN'T WANT to get out of bed. He knows he should, but he really wants to stay. In bed, it's warm and comfortable and, if he buries himself under his doona, he can pretend he's back at home. That's what he really wants, to be back at home. Homesickness has him bedridden, making him wonder if he should see the school nurse or take something for it. Is there even a cure for homesickness? God, he wishes there was.
Ferret nudges at his face, crawling underneath the blanket to try and wake the boy. These days he stays on top of the covers, apparently disliking the heat underneath or something. But now, he curls up next to the brunet with his whiskers tickle his nose. He's probably hungry; Enoch should feed him. He just doesn't want to move.
The desire to remain stationary seems stupid. He can't explain it and it's not like it's helping his homesickness—it's just giving him more time to stew. If he was more active, hanging out with friends, he could probably forget about it a little better. But the idea of leaving his bed is irrationally daunting.
"E, there's pancakes for breakfast." A voice interrupts his stewing. Under the covers, he can't see who it is, but he can tell by their voice and emotions: oranges and sunshine flood his senses as the feminine voice speaks. These pleasant emotions battle his own negative ones, almost managing to overpower them. "Philip saved you some."
"M'not hungry," grumbles the boy. This is childish, he thinks; but childish is how he feels right now. Still, he pokes his head out through the blanket to frown at the older girl. Gee stands there, concern shining through her gaze, her hands on her hips. "This is the boy's dorm. No girls."
"I have special consideration; the prefect is my cousin."
"Really?" The dark haired girl grins and shakes her head.
"I mean, he could be—I've never really looked into my family tree much. But he's a pure blood. Not a pure pure blood, just a pure blood; he likes to point out that both his parents are half bloods." Gee gives a careless shrug. "Anyway, you've got to get up. I know it's Sunday, but it's a sunny Sunday and we have to make the most of it before the sun decides to go away again. C'mon."
Enoch sighs heavily, "I don't have a choice, do I?"
"Not in the slightest. I'll drag you out if I have to—or get Philip, and he's really clumsy."
The brunet sighs again, pulling the doona off himself. It's probably better he doesn't have a choice. He'd stay in bed all day if he did.
Ferret stalks his prey: a small butterfly minding its own business as it flutters around the grass. The white pet crawls slowly towards it, approaching with careful stealth. Then, once he's close enough, he pounces. The butterfly is snapped up in his jaws. Enoch watches, but he isn't paying much attention. Gee is as well, but she's paying attention and cringes when the ferret chomps away at his snack.
