Things were not going well, and it didn't take a detective to figure that out. He liked Sloane—like, really liked her. That didn't mean that being with her was easy as he'd hoped. They'd had a blissful beginning with stolen kisses on the quidditch pitch, but being caught by Sisse had done enough to instill fear into their hearts. Every touch, every word, every second spent together—even ones that would be considered normal for their already close friendship—was treated like a clue that they didn't want their friends to catch. It was mentally and emotionally exhausting, and that was before Sloane had started getting worse.
He'd been thinking a lot about health and healing, but never before had he considered that heartache and stress could translate into very physical sickness. It hadn't been long after their first class that Cameron realized something was wrong. It was unusual for Sloane to miss a class, but not so unusual to sound the alarm. However, when she missed their second class, then their third, did Cameron think to ask someone what was going on.
Sloane was in the hospital wing. She was ill. Overwhelmed with guilt, he'd skipped lunch time to visit her, but the nurse had informed him that she was potentially contagious and unable to see anyone until she began reacting to the potions. Fine. He'd been able to handle that. Then the next class came, and then another, and finally he'd decided that dinner time would be spent with her.
So instead of following everyone to dinner, he'd taken a detour to the hospital wing with a frown on his face and handful of chocolates he'd stashed away from last Hogsmeade trip. The nurse informed him that she was sleeping, but that she would get better—thank Merlin. He sat beside her, leaned back in the chair with his Alice-approved journal and quill in his hand to study while she slept. He only put it down when her blankets began began shifting.
"Hi yourself," he said, placing his journal on the bedside table and leaning closer to her bed. He was still cautious with proximity, but he didn't think too much of it; most of the beds were empty and the only other students were several beds away and asleep. "You've had me all out of sorts today, you know. I didn't know where to put my eyes in History of Magic," he joked in a whisper.
He'd been thinking a lot about health and healing, but never before had he considered that heartache and stress could translate into very physical sickness. It hadn't been long after their first class that Cameron realized something was wrong. It was unusual for Sloane to miss a class, but not so unusual to sound the alarm. However, when she missed their second class, then their third, did Cameron think to ask someone what was going on.
Sloane was in the hospital wing. She was ill. Overwhelmed with guilt, he'd skipped lunch time to visit her, but the nurse had informed him that she was potentially contagious and unable to see anyone until she began reacting to the potions. Fine. He'd been able to handle that. Then the next class came, and then another, and finally he'd decided that dinner time would be spent with her.
So instead of following everyone to dinner, he'd taken a detour to the hospital wing with a frown on his face and handful of chocolates he'd stashed away from last Hogsmeade trip. The nurse informed him that she was sleeping, but that she would get better—thank Merlin. He sat beside her, leaned back in the chair with his Alice-approved journal and quill in his hand to study while she slept. He only put it down when her blankets began began shifting.
"Hi yourself," he said, placing his journal on the bedside table and leaning closer to her bed. He was still cautious with proximity, but he didn't think too much of it; most of the beds were empty and the only other students were several beds away and asleep. "You've had me all out of sorts today, you know. I didn't know where to put my eyes in History of Magic," he joked in a whisper.
