Muscle memory was a funny thing, Cheslock reflected as he stole noiselessly down the hill, Purple House's windows darkening rapidly behind him. This was the second time he'd snuck out after hours that week, and probably the seventh time this month. He was an expert at it by now.

The kitchen was locked, but Cheslock's nimble fingers and a bent pin did away with that inconvenient factor quickly enough. The place was, thankfully, unguarded.

Humming the 'Champagne Aria' from Mozart's Don Giovanni, Cheslock leisurely perused and took of the produce storage as he liked, then selected a large, shiny green apple and exited the kitchen, heading down the school grounds to his desired destination.
His operatic performance was soon interspersed by crunching.

"Ah, Cheslock," greeted Mr. Donalsson as said student pushed open the door and stepped into the infirmary. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Probably."

The infirmary master chuckled. "This dim light makes it incredibly difficult to see students sneaking about after hours. Don't keep him up too late, all right? Second bed from the left."

Cheslock nodded. Mr. Donalsson smiled and continued making his night rounds.

Padding silently down the row of beds, Cheslock passed a lightly snoring Green House student who, by the look of him, had gotten hit with a cricket ball one too many times. Tsk tsk. And there was a Red Houser, a small one, who appeared to have a cold or fever of some sort.

The last couple of beds were unoccupied, except the second to leftmost one. Cheslock made for it and seated himself on its edge.

The inhabitant blinked."Cheslock?"

"You skipped lunch today," Cheslock stated, without preamble. "Plus you hardly ate any dinner."

"I wasn't done my sketch." Far paler and with the shadows under his eyes more prominent than usual, Violet tried to sit up. Cheslock prodded him back down.

"I brought you something."

"Beets again?"

"Lots of iron. Good for the blood." Cheslock helped the prefect sit up, then handed him a bowl with several dark red vegetables and a fork in it.

Violet stirred the beets around for a few moments, then reluctantly ate one. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"Right. And you're supposed to make sure to eat, without being reminded. It's not really rocket science, you know."

Violet slowly chewed another beet, still leaning on Cheslock's supporting arm. "I had dinner."

Cheslock tapped his fingers idly on the bedstead, raising an eyebrow as he replied, "Oh, the two spoonfuls of potato? Silly me for missing that. You must be stuffed."

Violet ate a few more beets.

There was silence for a few moments, broken only by soft snoring from the Green Houser. Violet finished about half the bowl and then handed it back to Cheslock, flopping down on the pillow and shutting his eyes. "I hate this."

Cheslock grinned and finished his apple. "Oh, really?"

"Donalsson won't let me have my drawing things. I'm bored, and I was only halfway through that sketch of the gazebo."

"You'll finish it tomorrow," Cheslock shrugged. "And maybe you'll eat breakfast first."

Violet didn't reply.

"Tired, eh?" Cheslock stood up. "I'll let you be, then. Better get back up to Purple House and make sure Gregor isn't copying your things again, like last time."

"He's still learning," Violet murmured, already half asleep. "Maybe he'll get it right one day, with practice."

Cheslock smirked as he snuffed out the candle. "'Course. Now off I go to bed like a good little boy."

"...don't get caught..."

With a grin, Cheslock leaned over and chucked Violet under the chin. "You go to sleep and don't worry about me. I'm not a newbie at sneaking around. Muscle memory, you know?"