Magic? || Years 1-5

Deathday Party: Year 2

The grounds were covered in fog, sending a chill through the castle.

October settled in at last. Amisty woke with a runny nose, shiver, and scratchy throat one gloomy, rain-filled morning and now she was dragging herself through classes in a very miserable state.

"If you keep this up you're going to be too ill to function," Hermione scolded as they walked to Charms on Friday.

"I've managed before, I'll manage now," Amisty replied stubbornly, coughing into her sleeve and nearly dropping all her spellbooks as she wrapped her arms around herself tightly.

"All it takes is one visit to Madame Pomfrey for some Pepperup Potion, it's not that hard," Hermione continued, walking over to their usual table in the back of the classroom and placing her books down.

"She's already busy enough with everyone else. And I'd rather not have steam pouring out of my ears," She argued, sliding out her chair and sitting, arms crossed.

"Alright... Whatever you say..." Her brown-haired friend rolled her eyes, taking the seat next to her.

Professor Flitwick walked in, signaling the start of the lesson.

-=+=-

When she left the class, the last one of the day, she was halfway down the hallway when a bout of coughs wracked through her body.

She leaned against the wall, struggling to breathe.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly, pausing beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Y-yeah..." She coughed again, not leaving the wall. "Go up to the common room, I'll be up in a few."

"You sure?" Hermione's eyebrows knit together, her warm brown eyes flooded with concern.

"I'll be fine, go ahead," Amisty nodded, covering another raucous cough with her sleeve.

She gave her one last look before turning around and walking down the hallway, her hesitance clear in her slow steps. Amisty took in a shuddering breath, clutching her chest with her hand.

Her teeth chattered, the frigid temperature of the halls not benefiting her state.

"River?" An irritatingly annoying voice asked, though this time it was traced with unease.

"What... do y-you want... Malfoy," She choked out, her voice gravelly and hoarse with sickness.

The word 'Mudblood' rang in her ears yet again.

She glared up at him, surprised, though she wouldn't let it show, that he was alone. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be found.

"You need to go to the healing wing," He ignored her previous words, taking a step toward her.

"I'm perfectly fine. There's no need for--" Her voice broke off as she coughed yet again, completely destroying her argument.

"Come on, don't argue with me," Draco guided her away from the wall and down the opposite direction Hermione had headed.

The second she was no longer leaning against it his hand left her arm swiftly, falling to his side instead.

She knew there was no use in arguing, her one point was ruined. Their trek down to the healing wing was slow, as Amisty constantly had to stop in her tracks due to her coughing fits.

Draco opened the door to the healing wing, letting her walk in first, then following after her.

"Mr. Malfoy, can I help you?" Madame Pomfrey asked politely, bustling around the room as students waited impatiently for their share of the Pepperup Potion.