Pieces of parchment shot into the air and glided to and fro on its descent. A loud sniff interrupted the quiet blanket that had settled over the library, all due to a red-nosed Ravenclaw boy who was scrambling to catch his notes which began to litter the ground.

Sighing, Anthony began to straighten himself but then the floor started to tilt and he grew hot around the collar. He placed a hand on the table to steady himself and swallowed thickly. He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut, which suddenly began to water and itch. He took a few deep breaths and pushed himself up until he was upright in his chair once again.

He gave his head a shake and placed the tip of the quill to start his essay again. "Focus, Anthony. What're the components of Golpalott's Third Law?" He placed his hand to his cheek to keep his head up and felt that his skin was oddly warm. He blinked hard and cleared his throat. Did he swallow Firewhiskey without knowing it? His throat was on fire.

Usually he would have put his handkerchief to good use but his head was swimming and common-sense flew out the window. Absentmindedly he brushed his hand against the underside of his nose and then reached out to turn the page of the book he was using.

"What do you think you're doing, you daft child?" Madam Pince's scream caught Anthony off guard, slowing his reaction time. Madam Pince's bony hand wrapped around his wrist and pinched him. He looked up at her, confused as to what he had done wrong. He had just been sitting there, minding his own business when she snapped. Not that she needed help in that area, if one was to poll the students.

"Er…s-studying?" Anthony replied. He gave his head another shake. He wasn't underwater but his voice sounded thick and garbled. In the next instant he wondered if anyone had cast a heating spell in the library to combat the bitter cold that seeped in through the windows. He was positively burning.

"Do you deny that you were about to wipe your germy hand upon my book?" Madam Pince demanded, holding his wrist tighter. "I cannot have one that would defile the integrity of a book to continue to study in my library. Out, Mr. Goldstein. Out!"

"B-But, Madam Pince, this essay—"

"Out, you wretched boy!"

Anthony started to protest again, this he was interrupted by a hard cough and a burn in his throat. His hand flew up to his neck. Madam Pince shifted her grip to his shoulder and began to pull him out of his seat. He stopped in his tracks when he felt two small hands press against his forehead. His eyes fluttered shut at the heavenly relief the cool hands felt against his skin. His shoulders dropped and he uttered a sigh of relief.

"Give him a break, Madam Pince. He's a bit under the weather. In fact I think he has a fever." For a moment Anthony thought that he was in the hands of an angel, then again he did think of Rose as such on occasion. Especially now. She couldn't have come to his aid fast enough.

"I will not have a sick boy in my library, infesting the crevices of the books with germs and infecting the other students," Madam Pince hissed.

Anthony almost whimpered when Rose moved her hands from his forehead to his shoulders. He sniffed hard, coughing at the end from the effort. At the moment he wished his head weren't so stuffed up to smell the sweet, fruity scent that seemed to cling to her. "And I agree. I was just about to escort him back to his Common Room. I'm sure a good bit of rest will put him back into perfect health."

He started to protest her pulling on his arm—he had an important essay to finish after all!—but stopped when he felt another wave of dizziness crash around in his head. He put a hand to the table again to steady himself and, this time, didn't say a word when Rose began packing his books for him. He hated feeling useless, like he couldn't even get his own things organized but the entire library was spinning and he wasn't sure which way was up or down.

Anthony felt another tug on his arm and slowly got out of his seat. He was happy to be standing on his two feet and not kissing the ground with his face from his apparent lack of mobility skills. A nap sounded good to him. Really good. He couldn't wait for his head to hit the pillow. The essay could wait.

###

Anthony could feel the hold of sleep release him. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, rubbing at his tired eyes. He blinked a couple of times and looked around, spotting a statue and a bookshelf. He was back in the Ravenclaw Common Room. He started to sit up, only to convulse with a coughing fit. He made a face and swallowed the mucus that had collected in the back.

Boy, did he dislike being sick.

"Oh good. You woke up just in time." Anthony looked over to the entrance as Rose made her way through. How she made it past the password, he didn't know. She was a smart girl but, sometimes, her brain went on vacation. Nestled in between her hands was a steaming mug. Anthony brought his knees up to his chest, allowing her space to sit at the end of the couch. "Here, drink this."

"What is it?" Anthony rasped, accepting the mug.

"Pepper-Up Potion," she replied, curling her legs beneath her. "Made fresh from Madam Pomfrey. It should get you feeling better in a few hours."

"Thanks." He blew on the steaming liquid and took a tentative sip. He felt the potion slide down his throat and warmed him from the feet up to his head. He wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand and set the mug down on the nearby table. "Well, I guess I should get back to my essay."

Rose laughed. "You actually do homework when you're sick?" She rested her cheek against her palm and smiled at him. "You're silly, Squeaky."

"This essay is important, Rosie," he said.

"So's your health," she said and lightly poked him on the nose.

He couldn't help but smile at the gesture, but he did have to finish the essay. "Just let me write a couple of inches and then I'll leave it alone."

"Anthony, you just slept for five hours," Rose pointed out. "The essay should be the least of your concern. You had a pretty high temperature."

Anthony crossed his arms stubbornly. "I feel fine now." But only a moment later did a round of coughing betray him. He leaned back against the couch feeling his heart beating hard against his chest. "I'm fine," he reiterated.

"Quit being such a boy," Rose said, swatting his knee.

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Well, I am a boy."

"Trust me, I've noticed. Funnily enough it's one of the things I like about you."

Anthony looked down at his hands, his skin growing warm but not from his sickness this time. He blinked and looked up when he was jostled only to find Rose's face close to his, much closer than it has been. "Er…w-what're you doing?" He stammered.

"Helping you feel better," she replied as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. It took a minute for him to realize that she was adjusting a pillow behind his back and had conjured up a blanket as well. "I don't know about you but when I'm sick I like to lie on an extra fluffy pillow and get tucked in." She then grabbed the blanket and draped it over him, tucking in the sides.

"This…you don't have to do all this, Rosie," Anthony said. His face scrunched up and a second later he let out such a forceful sneeze that he was surprised he didn't pull a muscle.

"If you sneezed on me I would kill you," Rose stated, sitting back on the cushions.

Anthony did his best to appear more sick and pathetic than he actually felt. "You wouldn't kill someone who's sick would you? In fact…yes, I think my fever's coming back. You wouldn't kill someone with a fever."

"Maybe that's what I want you to think," Rose said, her eyebrows lifting. "Maybe I want you to think I'm sweet and nice so when I get my revenge you wouldn't see it coming and then you can't pin it on me because I can get out of it with a simple flutter of my eyelashes. Like so." She batted her eyelashes in his direction. He covered his mouth with his hand. While he found the gesture cute (hell, he found a lot of the things she did cute) it was amusing as well. She lightly pushed his knee. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I can't help it. You're kind of funny."

"Well you're funny looking."

He snorted and then coughed. "How long have you been waiting to say that?" He wheezed.

"Too long, Squeaky, too long," she said with a sigh and a shake of her head. "Anyway, what do you do when you're sick?" She asked.

He blinked at the sudden change in subject. "Er…sleep and watch the telly and read."

"No, I mean, don't you do anything special? Something that you only do when you're sick to make you feel better?" She asked. "Like eat ice cream or have poutine or get your back rubbed or something like that."

He shrugged. "My mum…she basically makes us fend for ourselves when we're sick."

Rose gasped. "You don't get pampered?" She demanded. He shrugged again. "That's the only good thing about being sick!"

It didn't surprise him that much that Rose got taken care of when she was sick, at least that's what he figured by how she was reacting. She had a family that wasn't broken or hostile. And he being the only man in the house he ended up having to take are of his siblings, releasing the chance of being taken care of himself.

"Erm…sorry?"

"Well, don't you worry," Rose said and patted his arm. "That's why I'm here."

"That's nice of you but you don't have to—" Anthony stopped speaking when she covered his mouth with her hand.

"I know I don't," she told him. "But I want to. So stop fighting it, okay? Trust me; it'll be a lot easier for you to just go along with it."

Anthony sighed, which she took as a sign of defeat. He may as well have sighed in defeat, he knew she wouldn't have let it go until he allowed her to care for him. While he appreciated how far she was willing to go to nurse him back to health it made him a little uncomfortable. His mother never fluffed his pillows or tucked him in, practically waiting on him hand and foot, ready to go get something if he needed it.

But he did like having the opportunity to spend more time with Rose. Not that he could find more time in the day to spend with her, using all of his free time to talk or even walk her to her classes. As much as the little voice in his head was nagging at him to get his essay done he put it aside to play a few games of Exploding Snap with Rose and then taught her to play wizards chess. Or tried to, anyway. When one can't seem to stop calling rooks "the little castle piece" it's an early sign that one of them would end up frustrated in the end and he didn't want it to be her. He didn't ever want to make her upset if he could help it.

As the day steadily drew to a close the two ended up tucked into the corner of the couch, reading. Not once did Anthony ever think he'd be cuddling with a girl, let alone a girl like Rose. But there he was, reading up on the information he needed for his essay to commit to memory with Rose tucked against his side, beneath his arm, reading a muggle fantasy book. Every now and then he would catch her making faces and reacting to the words on the page and he found it adorable.

And she was right, he found. Not doing any work and just enjoying the day was helping him feel better. He did cough and sneeze and his temperature jumped up and down throughout the day but otherwise he felt great. He wasn't sure whether to attribute that to the Pepper-Up Potion and merely Rose's presence so he decided it was both.

###

"So? Did you and your girlfriend get up to anything yesterday?" Michael Corner, one of Anthony's best friends, asked as they navigated through the halls.

"She's not my girlfriend," Anthony mumbled, his cheeks blossoming. "And no, we didn't get up to anything. I was sick!"

"So?" Michael demanded, standing still on the top stair as the moving staircase shifted and moved them around the hall. "If she were going to catch whatever you had it would have been sitting around in her body already. She wouldn't have caught it from you. You could have gotten a good snog in, Ant! You wasted a good opportunity."

Anthony pushed his arm and frowned. "She's not like that," he protested.

"All birds are like that," Michael replied, shaking his head. "Have you met Eloise?"

Anthony's frown deepened. Michael may be his good mate but he highly disliked how he talked about girls sometimes. "You don't know Rose, I'm telling you she's not like that. She was very kind to help me feel better."

Michael shook his head. "You're sprung, mate. Sprung."

Anthony released a sigh through his nose as they turned into a corridor. He spotted a familiar crop of red hair and his eyebrow came together. "Save me a seat," he told Michael as he deviated from his path. He approached Rose who was sitting in a windowsill of the hall and tapped her shoulder. "Rose? Are you alright?"

Her body jerked and she turned her sleepy eyes over to him. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she replied and rubbed at her eyes. "I was just getting some homework done."

"Looks more like you were getting some sleep in," he said, looking her over. "You're flushed."

"Really? I didn't know I resembled a toilet," she tried to joke but her smile didn't stretch that far.

Frowning again Anthony reached out and placed a hand on her forehead. "Ah, Rosie, you're burning up."

At the sound of that she frowned. "You got me sick!" She accused.

"That's not fair. You can't trace back who got you sick. It could have been anyone."

"Yeah, well, I'm blaming you anyway. So there." She stuck out her tongue.

Anthony looked to Michael who was standing in the doorway of the classroom. Anthony waved his hand, signaling for him to go on. "Come on," he said to Rose, turning so his back was to her. "I'll take you to your Common Room. It's my turn to take care of you."

"Yeah it is. 'Cause you got me sick!" Rose replied. She shifted so she was kneeling on the stone and then wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned forward so she could situate herself on his back properly and he hooked his arms behind her knees.

"I didn't get you sick," he said and began walking back the way he came.

"Yes you did," she mumbled against his back. "Even if you didn't I'm going to blame you anyway."

"Whatever, Rose. I'll let you have that 'cause you're a sickie."