Damn it.
One glance at him and Fallon knew he was sicker than what she was trained to handle. Her selfish pushing for the extended broom trips had exacerbated his condition, and now he was going to die if she couldn't get him home. Why had she touched him? Why hadn't she allowed the pull of the portkey to bring her here alone? At least if she died it wouldn't be after watching the slow death of her ... acquaintance.
It was laughable now (or perhaps it was just this current wave of hysteria she was feeling) to think how she'd lamented to Malou about him less than a week ago over a steaming bowl of porridge. She was so confused about the definition of a bloody word he used, and now it didn't even matter. Now, Fallon knew how her body fit against his (in the most platonic sense) and the label made no difference. What a joke their lives at home were.
"No, sit," she sniffled and gestured for him to stay where he was. The fur of the polar bear was the warmest spot in the cave, and he needed it the most. "I'm alright." No, she really wasn't, but his dying would only make that worse too. How was she to get his body home with her if she did survive?
Fallon cast a final spell on the fire and moved back to sit on the furthest spot of the fur from him. She could barely bear to look at him without another wave of tears threatening to overcome her. He was sick, and it was all her fault. "I'm so sorry," she stated quietly, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
One glance at him and Fallon knew he was sicker than what she was trained to handle. Her selfish pushing for the extended broom trips had exacerbated his condition, and now he was going to die if she couldn't get him home. Why had she touched him? Why hadn't she allowed the pull of the portkey to bring her here alone? At least if she died it wouldn't be after watching the slow death of her ... acquaintance.
It was laughable now (or perhaps it was just this current wave of hysteria she was feeling) to think how she'd lamented to Malou about him less than a week ago over a steaming bowl of porridge. She was so confused about the definition of a bloody word he used, and now it didn't even matter. Now, Fallon knew how her body fit against his (in the most platonic sense) and the label made no difference. What a joke their lives at home were.
"No, sit," she sniffled and gestured for him to stay where he was. The fur of the polar bear was the warmest spot in the cave, and he needed it the most. "I'm alright." No, she really wasn't, but his dying would only make that worse too. How was she to get his body home with her if she did survive?
Fallon cast a final spell on the fire and moved back to sit on the furthest spot of the fur from him. She could barely bear to look at him without another wave of tears threatening to overcome her. He was sick, and it was all her fault. "I'm so sorry," she stated quietly, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.