Disclaimer: You know, I always picture JK Rowling on , posting terrible slash fic under a nom de plume, giggling as she writes her disclaimers.

Because if I were JK Rowling, I would not envision this, I would probably do it, you are allowed to draw your own conclusions.

That being said, why are you so sure that I'm not JK Rowling and I'm just fucking with your head?

I am writing this because I am desperately sick, and I'm sick and tired of it. But, unlike Rose, I'm allowed to wear my pyjama pants to school. And I do.

I sat in the common room that night, doing my homework and being markedly confused. Malfoy, listening to Muggle rock? Malfoy, singing? Malfoy, thanking me?

Now, if this had been any other year at Hogwarts, I knew that just then, Indy would plop herself down next to me and say something along the lines of 'Has that Malfoy boy been giving you trouble again?' because she's like that; she always listens, and she always calls him that Malfoy boy. I used to think that it was italicized, but was informed of my wrongness last year. It's underlined, she said. Well excuse me.

Anyhow, Indy wasn't there, and this isn't a television show, so I didn't get a letter from her at that second. Instead I sat there for a while, extremely confused. Then I shook my head. I knew that it wouldn't do me any good, so I gave up wondering. He was probably just ill or something. I finished my homework and put it into my bag. By this time, it was very late, so I snuck silently into my dormitory and went to bed, my hands still smelling of soap.

The next day when I awoke, I looked out the window to see a wall of blinding white; a blizzard was raging outside my window, flurries of snow too thick to see your own feet. Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy and Potions were cancelled, due to snow for the first three and the sub-arctic temperatures of the dungeons for the fourth.

This knowledge was imparted to us by the notice board in the Great Hall, unfortunately, I was already up and wide awake, even though my first class was Herbology. Damn. I could have used the sleep, too; I'm coming down with a cold.

Instead, after breakfast, I stretched out very near the fire in the prefect's common room. (A/N: Everyone always makes it the Head's common room, and I like to shake things up a little. I hate being predictable.) I turned on my wPod (Oh yeah, I went there.)(But no, really, how do you expect me to write a music-centric Rose/Scorpius fic without some way to play music? Get back to me on that one.) and plugged it into a set of speakers that ran off of magic. And why not? It's not like there was anyone else there. Except, after I'd been there for fifteen minutes, someone did come in. I was so absorbed in what I was writing that it took a couple of minutes to register that Scorpius Malfoy was sitting on the sofa. I ignored him, turning up my music a couple of notches to drown out the sound of his scratching quill.

One of my favourite songs came on; Survive, by Rise Against. I turned it up a little louder. Rise Against is brilliant; best music in the world to write to. I continued scribbling out the importance of split seconds.I heard Malfoy clear his throat behind me. I ignored it, and a minute later, he did it again. I whirled around.

'I'm sorry, is my beating of the tattoo of creativity to the soundtrack of socially relevant angst rock too loud for you?' I asked.

'No, actually. It's too quiet. For Merlin's sake, girl, turn up the music!' I was a bit startled, but I did, and the words of Paper Wings filled the room, echoing off of the vaulted ceiling. It was kind of nice, being in the room with someone else, but not feeling awkward or frustrated, with no need to talk. I put away my writing and just lay there on the floor, eyes closed, listening to the music.

That day whiled itself away to the soundtrack in my head, as did the next. The blizzard showed no sign of letting up. Thursday night I went to bed early with a headache. Friday morning, I woke with a nasty cold. My head was stuffed up, my throat was scratchy and I had chills. I opened my eyes and tried to groan, but ended up coughing.

I really did not want to get out of bed. You know those days? When you're sick and you just want to stay in bed, but you have a life that needs getting on with? This is one of those days.

From under the covers, I groped along the floor for my slippers and jammed them onto my feet, then put on a bra under the tank top I was wearing and put on a sweater. When these new clothes had warmed under the blankets, I got out of bed. To hell with the dress code; I was wearing my pj's to breakfast.

I wandered out of my dorm and down to the Great Hall, shuffling in my slippers. I dropped onto the bench and swung my fuzzy-slippered feet over the bench. Louis looked at me and cocked his head sideways.

'Sick?'

I started to answer, but I began to cough. He waited patiently for my answer; 'Sicker than sick. Pass the teapot.' He obliged, and I poured myself a cup. Louis put an orange in the middle of my plate.

'I know you hate eating when you're sick, but the Vitamin C will help. Eat the orange.' I began peeling it. 'Why don't you go to the Hospital Wing?'

I shrugged. 'Because I hate the feeling of smoke coming out of my ears. I'd rather just be sick.'

'Have it your way, then. Keep warm, and take another orange in your pocket.' He, having finished his breakfast, left for his first class. My class was cancelled, so I sat there, curled up miserably drinking tea and eating oranges as the Hall emptied. I started to cough, and my eyes began streaming. I was groping blindly in my pockets for my hanky, when someone thrust theirs under my nose. I took it and wiped my face. I looked up, to see Scorpius Malfoy sitting next to me, a polite distance away. I held his hanky out to him, but he waved me away.

'Keep it. I have tons, way more than I'll ever use.' He rolled his eyes. 'My mum is so motherly, it's suffocating.' I laughed, then stopped when I realized that I was.

'Why do you keep doing that?' I demanded.

'Doing what?'

'Being nice to me,' I spat out the word 'nice'.

'Would you like me to stop?' he asked. I ground my teeth.

'It would be less confusing, for sure. First, you're a total ass to me for six years, but now you're being nice and rude simultaneously.'

'I enjoy confusing you. When you're confused, you get these cute little wrinkles right here,' he said, pressing a finger to my forehead. Then he got up and walked away. When he was about ten feet away, he stopped and turned. 'Oh, and nice pj's, sickie.' And with that, he left for good, leaving me more confused than ever.

I coughed and sneezed my way through Arithmancy (impossible with a stuffed head), Transfiguration (just plain impossible), and Charms (where I had to listen to a bunch of Gryffindor boys debating on why a unicorn had to be a horse; 'If it were a camel with a horn, would you call it a unicorn?' 'No, I'd call it a camel-corn. Or maybe a uni-camel' 'Then why do we call a horse with a horn a unicorn? Uni-corn. One horn. Has nothing to do with horses whatever.')(As Rose hits stuffed-up head against desk repeatedly.) Lunchtime rolled round and I sat down at the Ravenclaw table between Louis and Chase Rawlings, one of the Beaters on the Quidditch team. Louis didn't say anything, just poured me a bowl of chicken noodle soup and plunked it down in front of me. To that he added yet another orange and a glass of water.

'Thanks a million, Louis. You're the best cousin ever.' My voice sounded extremely scratchy.

'Sick?' Chase asked. I nodded and took a sip of my soup, wincing a little as the heat hit my sore throat. 'Why don't you go to the hospital wing?'

I shrugged and continued to drink my soup. In the afternoon, I had another hour of Charms, this time listening to the idiots discussing which girl in the school had the nicest boobs. I'm not even going to go into it; I'm scarred for life, and I see no reason for you to be, too. After that, I retreated to Ravenclaw Tower for my pj's and the warm fire. I attended dinner in pj's, with a lovely knitted afghan (courtesy of my Grandma Molly) wrapped around me. Louis continued to be an absolute darling, bless him. At the end of dinner, when I was refilling my teacup to take up to the Tower with me (the house-elves take them if you leave them in the common room) (These house-elves, of course, are free and empowered, courtesy of my mother), Louis picked up my nasty, snotty handkerchief from the bench, where it had fallen, with two fingers. He squinted at it, then pointed his wand at it. It was suddenly clean, and he held it properly. 'Ha. I thought so.'

'What?' I asked. He held the handkerchief so that I could see the monogram; SM in curly writing.

'What are you doing with Scorpius Malfoy's hankie?' he wasn't accusatory, just confused.

'He lent it to me this morning; I'd left mine in my dorm. I'd completely forgotten that it was his.' Louis tucked the hankie back into my pyjama pocket, and asked no more questions. I was grateful for this; I was too tired to think, never mind reason. I headed up to Ravenclaw Tower and fell asleep, incredibly early at 7:30, and slept the whole night through. The next morning, I was still incredibly ill.

The lesson of all of this? Don't get sick; it's a bitch.