Sunday dawned grayer, if possible, than the previous morning. The drizzle
continued ill-temperedly.
Draco woke much later than he usually did and found a parchment on the foot of his bed. It read:
Draco, Ron, in a fit of studiousness, has shut himself in the Library all morning. For some strange reason, he thinks Prof. Flitwick is giving a test tomorrow. Try not to make the confrontation too loud.
Hermione
Draco sneezed. He reached over to the bedside table for a quill and parchment and wrote Hermione a reply.
My Dear Miss Granger, As I expect not to have any control over the volume of the confrontation, I have no intention of conducting it in the Library. I do, however, thank you for your gracious attempt to make the penance you have imposed upon me as painless as possible. I remain Yours, Draconis V L X N de Malfoy
Draco read it over. The words had an oddly Snapish quality to them. He was blowing softly on the ink when Blaise stuck his head through the curtains. "Go back to sleep, Draco. You're sick."
Draco sat up anyway. "Good morning to you, too. I have Quidditch practice."
"No, you have a cold." Blaise thwarted Draco's attempt to get up by sitting on his feet.
"I promise to stop by the Infirmary in my way out," Draco sighed.
"Do you really want to steam at the ears all day? Pepper-Up is all Madam Pomfrey hands out."
Draco debated this. "I'll get Professor Snape to give me some thing else."
"Professor Snape left early this morning on an errand of undetermined origin. Nott is taking bets that the Gryffindors lured him off to get out of the Potions exam tomorrow."
"Put me down for three Galleons that he's off on personal business or something for Dumbledore." Draco reached for his money bag and had a very Weasle-y revelation. "Blaise, will you let me out if I promise to call in sick to practice and spend the day studying quietly in the Library?" Draco assumed a hopeful, trusting expression his features were not used to.
"I don't believe for a minute that's actually what you're going to do, but all right. Drink this." Blaise handed him a steaming mug.
Draco sipped cautiously and grimaced. "How did you manage to concoct something this vile 'without' Professor Snape?"
"Tincture of Echinacea purpurea, quite simple. Good for colds and all sorts of things."
"Sugar probably makes it useless," Draco muttered, draining the mug. He sneezed again and looked accusingly at the other boy.
"Doesn't work immediately," Blaise offered by way of explanation. He left to let Draco dress, which he did, moodily.
Retrieving the shiniest Galleon he could find in his bag, Draco went to wash up.
Draco woke much later than he usually did and found a parchment on the foot of his bed. It read:
Draco, Ron, in a fit of studiousness, has shut himself in the Library all morning. For some strange reason, he thinks Prof. Flitwick is giving a test tomorrow. Try not to make the confrontation too loud.
Hermione
Draco sneezed. He reached over to the bedside table for a quill and parchment and wrote Hermione a reply.
My Dear Miss Granger, As I expect not to have any control over the volume of the confrontation, I have no intention of conducting it in the Library. I do, however, thank you for your gracious attempt to make the penance you have imposed upon me as painless as possible. I remain Yours, Draconis V L X N de Malfoy
Draco read it over. The words had an oddly Snapish quality to them. He was blowing softly on the ink when Blaise stuck his head through the curtains. "Go back to sleep, Draco. You're sick."
Draco sat up anyway. "Good morning to you, too. I have Quidditch practice."
"No, you have a cold." Blaise thwarted Draco's attempt to get up by sitting on his feet.
"I promise to stop by the Infirmary in my way out," Draco sighed.
"Do you really want to steam at the ears all day? Pepper-Up is all Madam Pomfrey hands out."
Draco debated this. "I'll get Professor Snape to give me some thing else."
"Professor Snape left early this morning on an errand of undetermined origin. Nott is taking bets that the Gryffindors lured him off to get out of the Potions exam tomorrow."
"Put me down for three Galleons that he's off on personal business or something for Dumbledore." Draco reached for his money bag and had a very Weasle-y revelation. "Blaise, will you let me out if I promise to call in sick to practice and spend the day studying quietly in the Library?" Draco assumed a hopeful, trusting expression his features were not used to.
"I don't believe for a minute that's actually what you're going to do, but all right. Drink this." Blaise handed him a steaming mug.
Draco sipped cautiously and grimaced. "How did you manage to concoct something this vile 'without' Professor Snape?"
"Tincture of Echinacea purpurea, quite simple. Good for colds and all sorts of things."
"Sugar probably makes it useless," Draco muttered, draining the mug. He sneezed again and looked accusingly at the other boy.
"Doesn't work immediately," Blaise offered by way of explanation. He left to let Draco dress, which he did, moodily.
Retrieving the shiniest Galleon he could find in his bag, Draco went to wash up.