This is the third part opf Reluctance. Enjoy!
Dear Diary,
I'm really worried about Harry. He looks as
if he's always in pain and he keeps avoiding me.
Every time I go to touch him, he flinched, and
he's pale. It's scaring me. Something's wrong
and I can't even help. He's skipping meals
and looks more sickly every day. I want to
hold him, but he won't let me near him. I
love him so much. I think he's slowly killing
himself....and me.
Hermione
*******
Hermione's fears were not ill-founded. Harry tried to avoid her, but he could tell it was hurting her. Just as it was hurting him. If he ever cought her glancing at him, her face was veiled in worry. But what else could he do? He would rather avoid her...than see her die.
*******
Ron was extremely worried about his best friend. He constantly looked ill and was very quiet. At least he was talking to him, unlike Hermione. It made Ron very angry, watching how Hermione was taking it. She had sat in his arms crying many a time and she was withdrawn. Harry was totally avoiding her, but Ron new there had to be a good reason. He saw him gazing at her all day, longing written all over his face. No. The situation had Voldemort written all over it. But Hermione just couldn't see.
*******
"Get up, Harry!" Ron yelled, drawing the Velvet curtains. "You're going to be late for Potions!"
Harry sat up in bed, feeling very ill indeed. He was ice cold, his vision was blurred and his head was spinning. He stood up, but swayed and the spot, and collapsed, hitting his head on the way.
Ron ran to the hospital wing to fetch Madam Pomfrey.
*******
Dumbledore entered the hospital wing, to face a very grim matron. "What's wrong with him Poppy?" asked Dumbledore fearing the answer.
"The brishteh fever".
"You mean like James?."
Madam Pomfrey nodded.
"Oh dear."
Oh, a bit of a cliffhanger! This was a short one! Brishteh( pronounced brishda) is a gaelic (irish) word, and if any of you figure out what it means, tell me in your review. I will be most impressed. I'll tell you what it means in the next part, if no one guesses right.
By the way, for any of you who've read shared hatred, I've found someone to draw the portrait. (Thank you claire!) I'm going to revise that story, and will omit the portrait, putting it into to a fic of it's own!
If any of you want to know what's gonna happen in any of my stories, or have a question to ask, tell me in your review ( i'll need your e-mail) and I'll e-mail you, answering your questions!
review, or e-mail me!
~Danie
water_nymph@swimmail.com
Dear Diary,
I'm really worried about Harry. He looks as
if he's always in pain and he keeps avoiding me.
Every time I go to touch him, he flinched, and
he's pale. It's scaring me. Something's wrong
and I can't even help. He's skipping meals
and looks more sickly every day. I want to
hold him, but he won't let me near him. I
love him so much. I think he's slowly killing
himself....and me.
Hermione
*******
Hermione's fears were not ill-founded. Harry tried to avoid her, but he could tell it was hurting her. Just as it was hurting him. If he ever cought her glancing at him, her face was veiled in worry. But what else could he do? He would rather avoid her...than see her die.
*******
Ron was extremely worried about his best friend. He constantly looked ill and was very quiet. At least he was talking to him, unlike Hermione. It made Ron very angry, watching how Hermione was taking it. She had sat in his arms crying many a time and she was withdrawn. Harry was totally avoiding her, but Ron new there had to be a good reason. He saw him gazing at her all day, longing written all over his face. No. The situation had Voldemort written all over it. But Hermione just couldn't see.
*******
"Get up, Harry!" Ron yelled, drawing the Velvet curtains. "You're going to be late for Potions!"
Harry sat up in bed, feeling very ill indeed. He was ice cold, his vision was blurred and his head was spinning. He stood up, but swayed and the spot, and collapsed, hitting his head on the way.
Ron ran to the hospital wing to fetch Madam Pomfrey.
*******
Dumbledore entered the hospital wing, to face a very grim matron. "What's wrong with him Poppy?" asked Dumbledore fearing the answer.
"The brishteh fever".
"You mean like James?."
Madam Pomfrey nodded.
"Oh dear."
Oh, a bit of a cliffhanger! This was a short one! Brishteh( pronounced brishda) is a gaelic (irish) word, and if any of you figure out what it means, tell me in your review. I will be most impressed. I'll tell you what it means in the next part, if no one guesses right.
By the way, for any of you who've read shared hatred, I've found someone to draw the portrait. (Thank you claire!) I'm going to revise that story, and will omit the portrait, putting it into to a fic of it's own!
If any of you want to know what's gonna happen in any of my stories, or have a question to ask, tell me in your review ( i'll need your e-mail) and I'll e-mail you, answering your questions!
review, or e-mail me!
~Danie
water_nymph@swimmail.com