The Buddy System. *Updating In Process*

25. Avoidance, Austen, and a Very Determined Malfoy

Everything, apparently, meant everything.

She cast a shimmering line of blue light over Theo's chest, then mine, and began firing questions like she was auditioning to be the new interrogator for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"How long were you asleep?"
"Did you experience chills?"
"Any heart palpitations?"
"Did you take the draught on an empty stomach?"
"Have you eaten today?"
"Any trembling in the hands? Nightmares? How's your appetite? How's your mood? How's your magical output? Any headaches? Any nausea? Any residual stress from yesterday's... ah... incident?"

Theo answered calmly, patiently, like he was giving a lecture.

I, meanwhile, kept glancing at the door.

Every. Single. Five. Seconds.

Theo's lips twitched every time he caught me looking.

"Miss Diggory," Pomfrey said, narrowing her eyes at me mid-scan, "you are extremely distracted. Are you feeling faint?"

"No," I blurted.

"Dizzy?"

"No."

"Hallucinating?"

"I don't think so."

"Then why," she pressed, leaning closer, "are you staring at that door like you expect it to explode?"

Theo couldn't hold it in anymore—he snorted.

Loudly.

I shot him a death glare. "It's nothing."

"It's something," he stage-whispered. "She's afraid a blonde hurricane is going to blow through that doorway."

Pomfrey froze mid-ink stroke. "A what?"

"Nothing," I squeaked.

Theo grinned like a cat who'd swallowed a canary. "You know, Draco Malfoy—"

"THEODORE NOTT I WILL END YOU."

Pomfrey pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm too old for this."

Theo continued, undeterred. "—she thinks Draco is going to come bursting in here to sweep her into a dramatic confrontation."

Pomfrey turned to me slowly. "Miss Diggory... is this true?"

"No," I said.

"Yes," Theo said.

Pomfrey gave us a long, tired look—one that suggested she regretted every life choice that had led her to this moment.

"Well," she sighed, "if Mr Malfoy intends to storm in here, he is not doing it now. Relax."

I did not relax.

Theo did—for both of us.

Pomfrey flicked her wand and two thicker vials levitated from her cupboard.

"These," she said firmly, "are stronger doses of the same draught. One for tonight, one for emergencies. Take only half unless truly needed. Effects should last a full eight hours."

"Brilliant," Theo said brightly.

"Thank you," I murmured.

She wasn't finished.

"Now," she added, performing one last diagnostic charm that washed over my chest in warm gold light, "how are you emotionally, Miss Diggory?"

Theo snorted again.

I glared daggers at him.

"I'm fine," I lied.

"You are not fine," Pomfrey replied immediately. "You are exhausted, magically drained, physically tense, and clearly anxious."