November 3rd, 1890 - Hospital Wing
Cameron Gillenwater

The last twenty-four hours were kind of a blur, Sloane was groggy and cold, knew she wasn't in her own bed, but everything after leaving the greenhouse yesterday afternoon was a little fuzzy. She remembered walking back toward the castle, taking the long way, as the rain had lapsed a little, but picked back up on her walk. In her misery and in the rain, the tears had fallen in earnest and she'd parked herself beneath the willow trees by the lake to try and get herself together before braving the common room. That was really the last thing she remembered. Everything else was a fever dream she didn't know she was having.

Chills and aches went deep into her bones as hacking coughs wracked her small body from her bed in the infirmary. In one moment of clarity, are remembered that nurse tutting over her, but there was less bite to her bark than usual; from that alone Sloane knew she was worse off than she'd like to admit. Diagnoses like hypothermia and influenza had been tossed about, but she'd been too out of it to really ask what that meant for her.

The clock on the wall announced it was just before dinner now, she'd missed all her classes for the day and frankly all she wanted to do was sleep between coughing fits and trying to get warm. She'd asked for another blanket a little while ago and the nurse had strengthened the warming charm on the ones she already had, but she could feel the shivers and between that and the coughing, itonly make the aches worse. The Merlin forsaken burn on her arm was still visible and she'd already managed to land herself back in the hospital wing. What was this year? Why was it out to get her?

After fading out of consciousness again, though it felt like no time at all, it was nearly seven and Sloane realized the chair next to her bed was very occupied. "Hi," She managed weakly, a ghost of a smile visible over the blanket she had pulled up to her chin.

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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.

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Rolling to face him a little better was already enough exertion on her part and she took a deep breath to ward off the oncoming coughing fit, but there was nothing she could do. Hiding behind the blankets, she felt like she was hacking up a lung and could only ride it out until it was over. By the time she could breathe normally again, her whole body ached and she curled tighter into the blankets.

"Sorry," She mumbled, lacking any sort of energy to joke or try to follow his lead. It was taking all of her energy to keep her eyes open and not drift back off. "Caught a little something outside yesterday." Was all she really had by way of explanation. She would tell him about Alice and by extension about Sisse, when she could focus properly and not be interrupted by minutes-long coughing rampages that took just about everything out of her that she had left. She should have gone straight in to talk to him, she realized, and she would have been able to avoid this whole mess, but had wanted time to get the original hurt and upset out before she blubbered all over him with other people watching.

"Nurse says I have the flu." Hypothermia had been dismissed, but a very real possibility last night. Thankfully, though she didn't currently feel warm at all, that was the fever and not something else. Honestly if she took a moment to be dramatic, it kind of felt like she was dying. It was not pleasant, not in the slightest.

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His chest tightened as she fell into a fit of coughs, and only then did Cameron realize how bad she really was. Of all the things that might have debilitated Sloane that months, physical illness was the last thing he'd considered (which was silly, considering he'd spent so much time thinking about all sorts of illnesses while studying). His brow creased and a frown found its way to his face, and he began to reach out to touch the covers only to stop once he realized where they were. If only he were smart like Alice. If only he had some magically creative fix that the nurse wouldn't think to consider with something as routine as the flu.

"Yeah, she told me earlier," he murmured, leaning in so his knees brushed the side of her bed. "I'm sorry you're sick. I'd endure it for you if I could?" Because coughing and sniffling couldn't be worse than having to see Sloane so blue—literally, almost—after such a despairing month. He ran a hand over the sheet beside her, knowing he couldn't touch her both because of her illness and propriety but unable to still still and keep his hands entirely to himself.

"Can I do anything for you? I'd offer to do your homework but that would be more of a punishment, I think." He smiled again, but it faltered after only a moment. He couldn't joke, could he? Not when she was so miserable.

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All she could do was nod a little, the smile weak and even a bit sad. She wouldn't wish this upon anyone, least of all Cam. It was kind of miserable, but in what way wasn't she miserable these days? "My own fault." She managed, narrowly avoiding a cough by keeping the sentence short. "I'm okay." She'd be fine... eventually. Even so, she was already exhausted from the short exchange, though she was thoroughly pleased to see him, all she really wanted, but knew she couldn't have, was a hug and some body heat. It didn't help her mood much, though she tried not to show as much.

"Keep me company?" She requested quietly, though knew it would be moot soon enough. "Sorry if I fall asleep though." It was highly likely, whatever potions the nurse had been giving her helped keep her asleep through the coughing, but she would make an effort for a little while. School, lessons and homework were far from her thoughts as the discussion with Alice surfaced in her mind, but she hadn't the energy to bring it up. She would of course tell him if he asked, but it wasn't like Alice was to blame or anything, so it was almost moot. Basically everything was a mess and it was her own fault and she didn't know what else to do with it.

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She didn't look okay, but he wasn't about to tell her that. What he would do was be there for her, because that was just about all he could do considering the circumstances. He remembered last April when she'd sat by his side while he was in the hospital wing, even after they'd spent months pretending the other didn't exist. So much had changed since then—some for the better, some of the worse. Keeping her company was the least he could do.

"Not going anywhere," he murmured, tugging the cover a little higher up her body so he could discreetly slide a hand between her cheek and her pillow. She was so warm, and yet her body shook as if she was freezing. Merlin. For a brief moment he wondered if there was a possibility that she wouldn't get better, but quickly pushed the thought from his mind. She was Sloane. She was young, healthy, and would get better... right? He used his free hand to tuck her blanket around her better, partly to distract himself from such dark thoughts.

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After another heinous coughing fit, Sloane took a deep breath and arranged herself against the pillows so she was sitting up again. She could feel it all settling in her chest and it sucked. It felt like she couldn't breathe properly. It made her both nervous and a little frightened; she'd never been this sick before, even after her dip in the lake and making friends with the squid.

"Did I miss anything good today?" She whispered, rubbing her chest with the heel of her hand, hoping to ease some of the discomfort. She closed her eyes at the quick brush of his fingers along her cheek, relishing in any small form of affection they could get away with. Right now she could really go for a snuggle.

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After a brief glance around the room to make sure no one was awake and watching them, he brought his free hand up to rhythmically stroke her hair back from her forehead. She sounded terrible; he might have said enough, but he was certain she knew it. The frown on his face only deepened as she struggled to find a comfortable position.

"I didn't fail in Potions class today," he whispered, his own eyelids fluttering as he continued brushing her hair backwards. "You should have seen it. I'm not sure it'll happen again." Her eyelids fell, too, and after a few minutes of quiet rambling about nothing in particular he could hear her breath, heavy and congested. He took a deep breath himself and settled back into his chair, tracing patterns on her arm while she slept.

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   Sloane Bixby

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Sloane's absence from classes was noted immediately by the redheaded Gryffindor. After their emotional conversation in the greenhouse yesterday (and the subsequent guilt she felt from leaving Slaone behind) Alice couldn't help but feel as though this illness was her fault. She hadn't gotten sick with the flu, after all, nor had she had any reason to be in the hospital wing. Alice should've waited for Sloane, that was the right thing to do, but she had taken the coward's way out. She had avoided more confrontation and accepted Sloane's obvious excuse.

An obvious mistake.

She arrived in the hospital wing armed with a small clove of garlic and apologies. The garlic wouldn't help the more severe flu symptoms, but it would help keep the congestion flowing. Thick mucous only led to worse coughing, so it was important to continue clearing the nasal passages as often as possible. The apologies, however, were a bit underprepared. Alice had the basic ideas of what she wished to say, had a long list of thougjts to address as well, but she wasn't sure how much of it Sloane was up to hearing. Alice couldn't accost her in her sick bed, that would lead to a longer healing time. Perhaps she wouldn't offer any apologies tonight. They could save that upsetting conversation for another day and have a brief, stupid conversation about bloody garlic.

Only, Cameron was sitting besides Sloane in her hospital bed. And he was touching Sloane's arm. And, suddenly, the reasoning for the fight wasn't so diffocult to decipher at all. Cameron had giffed her a bracelet for her birthday after all (Alice wasn't even sure if he'd noted her birthday with anything other than a cheerful greeting ever). And they were stupidly close. And Sisse was livid over something they couldn't discuss. Only a betrayal of this sort could be the cause of such ire. It all made so much sense, and yet none of it made any sense at all.

Alice came to a dead stop a few feet from the bed, her hand tightening around the garlic so tightly she heard it cracking in her palm. Her eyes were glued to where Cameron was touching Sloane. How could she have been so mistaken about his feelings for her? The guiding hand on her back, the easy chatter as she helped him with his schoolwork. None of it had ever mattered to him the way it had her. "I was just coming to check on Sloane," she stated with an eerie calm despite her racing thoughts. Still, her eyes were locked on his hand.

  

Cameron stiffened at the sound of a familiar voice. He couldn't move with any subtlety, and to pull back would likely wake Sloane on top of being more damning. Instead he sat frozen, his eyes fixated on the wall on the opposite side of the room and his finger pressing softly into Sloane's wrist just slightly above where her bracelet rested.

It was Alice.

He tried to tell himself that he wasn't technically doing anything wrong. There were no explicit rules against this sort of affection, even if would lead to questions. Alice knew they were close. Alice knew how their relationship was, or at least how it had been before romance had infiltrated their friendship. But still, this had been an intimate moment. A private one. One not meant for anyone's eyes, especially the friends they'd been so desperate to keep it from.

He turned his head slowly, trying to make it look as casual as possible—something made difficult by the pink of his cheeks and his one hand that still rested between Sloane's head and her pillow. He slowly extracted it and placed it on his knee, the warmth from her cheek still radiating off his palm.

"Alice," he said slowly, calmly. "I was too."

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The stem of the garlic pressed painfully hard against her palm, though she paid it no mind. She hadn't noticed his hand beneath Sloane's cheek, not until he had moved to withdraw it completely. There was nothing platonic about his touch. She and Edison were arguably as close as Cameron and Sloane, and he would never touch her like so. Merlin's beard, the most gentle graze of their hands had made things awkward for weeks. No. This was why Sisse was angry. This was why Sloane couldn't speak of it. This was why everyone was walking on eggshells for over a month.

She didn't know how far it went, didn't need to really, but she knew enough to know the pink of his cheeks (caught only by a brief glance towards his face before moving back to Sloane's sleeping form) was from the embarrassment of being caught. "I can see that," she replied in her same, continued tone. An explosion of emotions would likely happen soon, but she could hardly lose her restraint in the middle the hospital wing. Then, she would have to explain why, and no matter how furious she was Alice would never be the cause of her friends' expulsion.

She finally tore her eyes from Sloane and locked it on Cameron. Her usual warm brown gaze was full of questions and anger alike. Had he known of her crush and preyed upon it to better himself? Alice didn't believe so, but how could she be certain? "This is why Sisse is angry, I take it?" She asked despite already knowing the answer. Really, she should leave them here, she should go find a quiet closet somewhere and scream until her throat was hoarse. Anything other than remain standing frozen like the bloody fool she was.

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   Cameron Gillenwater

I can see that. The words cut deep, even as they left her mouth in the same even voice she'd greeted him with. There was no anger, no tears, no outward anguish like Sisse had shown. What there was, however, was a matter-of-factness that even Cameron could not dispute against, and he found himself simply staring at her with wide brown eyes and his brow slightly creased. He could feel the tension rising, and it dawned upon him that Alice was a person that he would have to explain things to. She and Sloane were dorm-mates and friends, but out of the two of them Alice was closer to him.

"Yes," he said quietly yet firmly. There was no guilt, not wavering in his voice that suggested that he should feel bad—because he didn't. "Though I must admit I don't agree with her reasoning." Sisse's anger still struck him as irrational to this day, because it was not his fault that she was unable to accept that feelings between two people didn't require a third party's consent.

"Please don't tell anyone. I couldn't bear it if she was expelled," he added, lowering his voice. He would have it easier as a boy. He knew that. It was girls who bore the brunt of scandal, and with her spot on the quidditch team and more outspoken nature a scandal like this would likely get her labeled a hussy rather than an infatuated schoolgirl. Sure, he might lose his position as Gryffindor captain, but the chance of him being outright expelled was much lesser.

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As if physically struck, Alice flinched at his request. Years of friendship, of unwavering constant loyalty and support, and he thought her capable of causing either of them harm. She had worked tirelessly to help him with his grades, had even done so at the expense of her own studies. She had gone to every game to cheer them on like any good friend ought. Alice had done everything — everything! — in her power to prove herself a good friend to them, and Cameron doubted her.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Alice turned sharply on her heel, no longer capable of managing this conversation in the presence of other students. Not when his only concern was Sloane's expulsion and not the fact that they were willing to tear their friend group apart over a secret of this caliber. Already, Sisse had made it clear she and Sloane wouldn't ever be the same. Already, the fissures had formed beneath their feet. Alice wouldn't — couldn't — do it. She just couldn't.

With quick but quiet footsteps (as to not disturb the other sleeping patients) she fled the hospital wing, moving aimlessly down the mostly empty corridor.

  

For girls who were so aggressively Gryffindor in their demeanor, his friends had a way of fleeing from every conversation, didn't they? Sloane had done so during the divination practice that had led to the beginning of their relationship, Sisse had done so after discovering them snogging, and now Alice, too, despite her usually calm demeanor and sound mind, fled the room. He'd promised Sloane that he would keep her company, but he had a feeling that she would forgive him if it meant salvaging their friendship with Alice (and possibly their friend group as a whole). Besides, out of all of them, Alice was the one who could see reason. She was the one not entirely ruled by emotion, but hard facts.

Then why did she flee? He took off after her.

As soon as he passed through the door of the hospital wing and into the corridors, he broke into a sprint. With long legs at his advantage, it took only a few moments to catch up to her. He grabbed a hold of her forearm and pulled her around to face him.

"Why are you running?" he asked, exasperated. "You're not mad, too, are you?" Clearly she was. It was written across her face.

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Alice wrenched her arm from his grasp with more force than she believed herself capable. Not only had he just been comforting Sloane with those same hands, but being touched by him confused her on her best days. During their trip to London Alice thought him touching her meant he cared for her, not that he was just trying to politely steer her through traffic. She always thought it meant more than it did, which she would heal from eventually (she was healing from distancing herself from Edison, wasn't she?). But, Merlin knew the realization stung like a slap in the face. Reality always did hurt, didn't it?

She had no response for him, none that would be productive anyway. She was running because causing a scene was sure to get them all in trouble, because her feelings were hurt, because everything was changing and she had never coped well with change. All things Cameron bloody Gillenwater wouldn't understand her to be capable of. Alice was always the stable one of them, after all, the one to turn to when in need of practical advice. Having a very public meltdown because he both destroyed her crush and doubted her as a friend wasn't practical. It wasn't sane or logical.

"You really think so little of me that I would risk your and Sloane's expulsion?!" She seethed, wholly unable to stop the hurt lacing through her tone. She kept her tone low, so the other students nearby couldn't ovethear, but still maintained as much physical distance as she could. "I'm that awful a friend, now?"

  

It was Cameron's turn to flinch as she pulled away from him as if his touch physically burned her. He'd known Alice long enough to see her get upset—and at times even angry—but rarely was it directed at him. He was Cameron, her stupid but well-meaning friend. That was the role he'd played for the past four years, and this year it had been entirely upended. Now he was apparently the source of so much drama, a source of so much anger and distrust. He shook his head and let out a shallow, confused breath, grappling for any sort of response.

"What—No," he breathed, his brows furrowing in confusion. She was high on emotion, and he'd came prepared to argue with facts. "You know you're one of my best friends. I know you'd never say anything with the intention to hurt us." But he could see how she might want to share with Calla or Ned or anyone else in their friend group who was out of the loop. He'd want to, too, if he was in her position. Couldn't she see that he hadn't meant it the way she'd taken it? "It's just... Sisse reacted so poorly. I thought you'd understand...."

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