The night before you'd woken to find him barricaded in the hotel bathroom, his back against the tub, knees poking out in front, head drooping as sleep came and went too easily.
"Babe, what on earth are you doing?" you'd sleepily mumbled, his head rising with a sniff and eyes so heavy you thought he might pass out right there.
"I've been coughing. Didn't want to wake you." he grumbled out, his voice thick and deep and all kinds of ill. You sighed, touched by his thoughtfulness, but feeling motherly at his reasoning.
"Oh my gosh, Harry. You're an idiot. Come back to bed." you'd shaken your head and reached for his arm, helping his long limbs unfold. His chest heaved and shook with another fit of coughing as you stumbled sleepily back into...
