it does not do to dwell
The clinic, thought Albus, was most unlike the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts or even one of the wings at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The most notable of their differences was, naturally, the regrettable lack of magic. Though he was hardly an advocate for the profession of Healing, he was confident that, had he contracted this particular malady at home, he would have been the perfect picture of health in a matter of moments. As it was, however, he was closing in on his fourth day in bed, feeling rather as though he were the lucky survivor of an encounter with a Nundu.
'Lucky', of course, being subject to one's definition of the word, as their breath was noxious enough to eliminate an entire village.
He made a distinctly disgruntled noise as he shifted in the uncomfortable bed, the frame squeaking noisily as he did so, and he could not help but wish most desperately that he were in his old Gryffindor dormitory, with its comfortable four-poster beds and questionable choice in curtains, instead of such a dreary room. Indeed, the only encouraging thing to have happened that day was that he had thus far avoided vomiting, although, he suspected this largely had to do with the fact that he had thus far avoided eating, as well, preferring instead to nurse a glass of water when he was capable of remaining upright for any period longer than a few seconds. Unfortunately, such reprieves from his nauseous state were few and far between.
Nevertheless, dehydration was not a symptom he cared to add to his many others and so, with a great force of will, he pushed himself to a sitting position. His hand shook slightly as he reached over to the table beside him and, when he took hold of his half-empty glass, the water sloshed about in a way that made it difficult to drink properly, a great deal of it dripping down the front of his half-open shirt.
Sighing, Albus replaced the glass. Perhaps the water would alleviate his fever.
ST/LT are a-okay.
'Lucky', of course, being subject to one's definition of the word, as their breath was noxious enough to eliminate an entire village.
He made a distinctly disgruntled noise as he shifted in the uncomfortable bed, the frame squeaking noisily as he did so, and he could not help but wish most desperately that he were in his old Gryffindor dormitory, with its comfortable four-poster beds and questionable choice in curtains, instead of such a dreary room. Indeed, the only encouraging thing to have happened that day was that he had thus far avoided vomiting, although, he suspected this largely had to do with the fact that he had thus far avoided eating, as well, preferring instead to nurse a glass of water when he was capable of remaining upright for any period longer than a few seconds. Unfortunately, such reprieves from his nauseous state were few and far between.
Nevertheless, dehydration was not a symptom he cared to add to his many others and so, with a great force of will, he pushed himself to a sitting position. His hand shook slightly as he reached over to the table beside him and, when he took hold of his half-empty glass, the water sloshed about in a way that made it difficult to drink properly, a great deal of it dripping down the front of his half-open shirt.
Sighing, Albus replaced the glass. Perhaps the water would alleviate his fever.
ST/LT are a-okay.