Sick

Sick
Potter47

"Enough had been thought, and said, and felt, and imagined.
It was about time that something should be done."
-- C. S. Lewis

I

The grand hall of the castle was filled to burst with knights and fair ladies and princes and princesses, all dancing and twirling and dancing and twirling--INCESSANTLY--and laughing and clapping and laughing and clapping and paying no mind at all to that pesky dragon stomping about on the front lawn...

"Are you OK, Luna?" said a voice.

Luna's eyes snapped closed, awakening herself from her daydream, and then she opened them again to see who had spoken. It was Ginny.

Luna looked round--she was in the library, surrounded by books and Ginny was seated opposite her with a harassed expression on her face--harassed but concerned, Luna reckoned. Not all that concerned, really, just more like... more like Ginny had just looked up and noticed that Luna didn't look exactly alert, and, seeing her in this blank state, Ginny thought it common courtesy to ask if Luna were all right. That was probably it.

"I'm fine, I wasn't anywhere near it."

In a different situation, Ginny might have asked what "it" was--and Luna would have informed her, "The dragon, of course"--but this was not a different situation, this was this situation, and in this situation the red-haired sixth year was studying for her NEWTs, while Luna kept her company by studying for her end of year exams. So Ginny looked right back down at her book.

Luna examined her friend, now--the beads of sweat beading into sweat beads on her forehead--the paleness of her face--and the unkeptness of her hair, and Luna realised rather shockingly that Ginny was, indeed, sick.

"Are you OK, Ginny?"

"Yes, of course I am," said the sick-ee, not looking up from the book she was holding--a book much larger than books should ever be made, in Luna's opinion, it seemed poised to eat the poor girl. "Why wouldn't I be?"

There was a slight tilt of hysteria at the end of her words.

"Ginny, I think you are sick. Your forehead is sweaty. Your face is pale. Your hair is unkept. I think you've come down with something..."

"Luna," said Ginny, looking up exasperatedly, "if I am sick, I am sick in the head only, for being so incredibly nutters as to think I could get these bloody things out of the way a year early..."

"You're not crazy, Ginny, that's a perfectly reasonable thing to do--now, if you were planning on doing all this just for the sake of getting it done, rather than going to help with the fight and be with your beloved... that would be crazy. Wasn't Hermione Granger going to try that?"

"Not that I know of," said Ginny, her head down once again. "But God, Luna..."

"What about Him?"

Ginny glared at her and sniffled. Luna smiled, and said:

"Aha! You're sick."

"What? No, I'm--"

"You sniffled. That's more than concrete enough evidence for the Wizengamot, why isn't it good enough for you?"

"Because I don't feel sick, Luna." Ginny made an angry mark on her parchment, and if it had been a piece of flimsy yellow Muggle maths paper, it would have torn clean in two. Alas, it wasn't, so it didn't.

"That's the problem with the world today, we do everything on account of our feelings, as opposed to how things actually are..." Luna paused, and then: "Just because you don't feel sick doesn't mean you're not sick. I assure you, you are. And by morning, I also assure you, my friend, you will feel very sick indeed."

"Whatever. Could you let a sick girl revise in peace, then?"

"All right. I'll get some chicken soup."

"I'M--NOT--SICK...!" said Ginny a bit too loudly, causing Madam Pince to look over at them warningly.

"You just said you were, actually," noted Luna, "but anyway, the soup's for me, I happen to like it."

--|--

Luna made her way down to the Hogwarts kitchens, and when she reached the painting of the bowl of fruit, she tickled the grape on the right-hand corner, to see if anything would happen. Nothing did, so she (rather disappointedly) tickled the pear instead.

She opened the painting with the newly emerged doorknob, and as soon as she did, she heard a very un-House-Elf-like voice emerging from within:

"We need your staff to be all-hands-on-deck all throughout the day, elf, absolutely ready for any and all food selections that might come their way..."

"Yes, Minister sir, yes of course, Dobby will make sure... we will not disappoint you, Minister sir."

"Good--"

The voice (which, Luna now saw, belonged to the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour) halted as its owner spotted Luna entering the portrait hole.

"Who are you?" he said, and Luna saw that he had Percy Weasley by his side with a scroll of parchment, as though this culinary planning session was the absolute top priority of the Ministry of Magic... "What are you doing here?"

"Luna Lovegood," said Luna. "I'm here for some chicken soup."

She spoke with a rather stiff voice, for this man was the head of the Ministry--the Ministry was one of Luna's least favourite things in the whole world. He also happened to be a vampire, which wasn't a very appealing quality either.

Scrimgeour narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, and then turned to Percy, "I believe we're finished here, then, if you'll leave a copy of the suggested menu..."

"Already done, sir, the elf is holding it--"

"Oh, yes, of course--follow me, Weasley, we must find a place for the stage..."

"Yes, sir," said Percy, and Luna watched him sadly as he doggedly followed his boss out of the kitchens--it was more than obvious that he'd already been bitten.

"Here you are, Miss Lovegoods," said a squeaky voice, pulling her gaze from the vampiric intruders' exit-- "Your chicken soup, Dobby made it just like you likes it, Miss Lovegoods." The elf was holding the bowl up to her as high as he could reach, and yet he seemed to be attempting a bow at the same time.

"Thank you, Dobby," said Luna, relieving him of the soup--he was able to bow properly, now. Luna breathed in the scent of the warm broth... it did wonders for her, even when she wasn't sick at all.

She set it down at what would have been the Ravenclaw table, if she were upstairs in the Great Hall, and sat down on the bench before it. Dobby was watching her expectantly, hoping for her to ask him for something else... she appeased.

"Dobby, what were those..." she hesitated, furrowed her brow, and continued, "men, what were those men doing here?"

"Oh, they was telling Dobby what Dobby already knew," said the elf, nodding fervently. "They tell Dobby to make sure we's all ready for Saturday--well, we's been ready for Saturday since three Saturday's ago, so Mr Minister did not have to come down to tell Dobby again..."

"What's Saturday?" said Luna, sipping her soup.

Dobby's eyes widened, which seemed rather unnatural. "They nots telling you yet? Dobby thought they's told you ages ago!"

"I don't believe so..."

Dobby looked, shockingly, shocked.

"They's been stomping about about it for ages and they's forgetting to tell the students? If they had elves doing the work, that's never would have happened..."

"What is it?"

"They's having a demonstration," Dobby explained. "They's showing you all the secret stuffs they's using against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. If you ask Dobby, Dobby thinks they're a bit silly, showing you their secrets, because then they won't be secrets..."

"Then why are they showing us?" said Luna, scooping up a chunk of chicken with her spoon.

"To impress you, Dobby thinks. To make you thinks they's got everything under control."

"But who on earth would believe that?" said Luna rather unintelligibly, around a mouthful of carrots (she saved all of them for the bottom of the bowl, so that she could eat them all at once). She chewed, swallowed, and continued: "It's the Ministry, when have they ever had anything under control...?"

"Dobby doesn't know..." Dobby hesitated, looked up suddenly, and then turned back to Luna: "--but Dobby must unfortunately leave Miss Lovegoods, dinner is only an hour away..."

"Oh, that's fine," said Luna, draining the very last of her broth. "Thank you very much for the soup."

Dobby laughed. "Dobby will never get used to the thankings..."

Luna departed, thinking about the ministry and the vampires and the demonstration, and she wondered whether she preferred carrots cooked or crunchy, they were so very different-tasting it was difficult to decide...

--|--

As Luna returned to the library, Ginny was right where she'd left her--sitting with her books piled high in front of her, a wall of boringness that kept her locked up in the Castle of Revising. It was a sad sight, really. And she looked so dreadfully tired...

"Ginny, why don't you take a break? You could go rest in the common room, you'd be bound to get better if you spent some time with your beloved--"

"Will you stop calling him my beloved, Luna?" said Ginny. Luna reckoned she was nearing the end of her rope, if the colour of her face meant anything. "We haven't gone out for nearly a year--"

"Are you saying Harry isn't your beloved?" said Luna curiously, quirking an eyebrow.

Ginny scratched away fervently with her quill. "Yes,"--she made a rough mark-- "that is exactly what I'm--"

She stopped writing, then, and put down her quill. The aggravation fell from her face in a long moment.

Ginny sighed wearily, and spoke in a much weaker voice: "Luna, you know I'm not saying that, but could you please stop talking about it?"

"You rather resemble a mateless humdinger when you're lovesick," informed Luna softly.

"I'm not lovesick," said Ginny, but any sort of argumentative spirit had left her as she'd let her quill drop. "I'm not sick. I'm just... I'm tired."

Her voice was so pathetic sounding all of a sudden, now that she'd mentioned Harry, that Luna wanted to say "Awwww..." but held her tongue (metaphorically speaking, of course).

"You should rest," said Luna again, but somehow she felt Ginny was actually listening to her now, rather than considering her as just a bit more attention-worthy than the stray bit of hair falling across her eyes.

Ginny gazed across the table, looking at all of her books--her eyes seemed filled to the brim with despair and helplessness.

"I can't stop, though," she said, and Luna thought she might be near to tears, "I have to finish... so I can go with them when they leave. I can't stay here..."

"You won't," said Luna, walking round the table and putting a comforting arm round Ginny's shoulders. Hugging helped everything, Luna knew, it was the one foolproof action that absolutely never failed to make a person feel better...

Ginny leaned into the embrace, looking very much like a small child. This was odd, this occasion--Ginny hated being thought of as a little girl, she tried as hard as she could to act as grown-up as she could, she always had... Luna was very nearly taken aback by her friend's breakdown, and she would have been, if only Luna were taken aback by things. Luna shifted slightly so the back of Ginny's chair wouldn't be digging into her side.

"It's OK, Ginny," Luna whispered. "You'll be with him soon enough."

Ginny sniffled, and Luna thought perhaps she shouldn't mention the girl's sickness right now, when her other one was so clear on her heart.

"I don't want him to leave me..." said Ginny, so softly...

"He won't," said Luna, and she kissed the top of Ginny's head in as motherly a fashion as she could--Luna hadn't had much exposure to mothers for a while, though, so she wasn't sure if she'd gotten it right.

Ginny didn't seem to mind, though. Luna pressed her cheek lightly to the other girl's forehead.

She has a temperature,

thought Luna, at the sudden heat upon her face. She's burning up. I knew it...

Luna didn't say anything, however, and instead patted her friend on the back in as soothing a way as she knew how, and wondered about things.

TBC

Please review... I've got a bit of work cut out for me to finish this before the deadline, but I'm certainly going to try...