A chill gust rattled the window, and Luna slowly blinked awake. She was cocooned in the plush Runespoor fleece blanket Vizette had tucked around her before leaving the common room. The stuff was enchanted to cling like a second skin, no matter how much its occupant squirmed.
Her eyelids felt leaden, her body ached all over, and her head swam with dizziness. She yawned, wincing as the motion scraped her raw throat—like a swarm of Wrackspurts buzzing in a frantic dance. Even breathing felt obstructed, as if a Niffler had sniffed out every bit of fresh air and squirreled it away.
Luna hummed a soft melody, one nostril clearing while the other stubbornly clogged. The blanket's softness tempted her to burrow deeper; she wriggled and sang the tune through twice before finally shoving it aside. Another draft hit her, sharpening her senses. She spotted the culprit: a window cracked open against the common room's stifling warmth, which seemed eager to escape into the night.
Rising unsteadily, Luna sealed the window, dragged her makeshift pillow to the hearth, and nestled against it, inhaling the smoky air.
...
Her roommates trickled back soon after. Olivia Yaxley frowned. "Luna, where'd you vanish to? We looked for you in the Great Hall."
Luna straightened with effort, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I visited the goblins—they threw an aerial party. Then I trailed some elves on my broom... until a gale blew me back here."
Olivia exchanged baffled glances with the others. Amyka Miller leaned in, concerned. "Your voice sounds rough. Caught a cold?"
Melanina Burst shook her head. "Bad timing—Madam Pomfrey's low on stock."
Emma Hitchens checked her watch. "Dinner's over anyway. Hungry?"
Luna sniffed. "Not yet. I'll just thaw out by the fire."
The others headed to their dorms, but Amyka paused, sliding a box of Chocolate Frogs toward her. Luna didn't unpack it; she gave it a gentle shake, watching the frog inside puff its cheeks in lazy protest, the motion oddly soothing.
The fire's heat chased off the chill but built a heavy warmth that pressed down like a stifling blanket.
...
Footsteps echoed, followed by Vizette's worried voice. "You've got a cold?"
He found her slumped on the Runespoor fleece, eyelids drooping like wilted petals. Luna tilted her head and managed a faint smile. "A bit, yeah."
His hand brushed hers, then her forehead—cool and reassuring, sending a refreshing chill through her. She leaned into it greedily.
"No fever. Good." Vizette settled across from her, setting down a grease-stained parcel. "Other symptoms?"
Luna nestled her cheek against the fleece. "Sore throat, stuffy nose... feels like a Niffler hoarding treasure or Wrackspurts throwing a rave."
He nodded. "Classic flu. Nothing serious." With a relieved exhale, he fished a vial from his pocket. "Here—Pepperup Potion."
Luna pushed herself up. "I'll grab some dried fruit."
"No need; I sweetened it." Vizette grinned. "Scared of medicine?"
She shook her head. "Colin said it tastes like a Mooncalf tap-dancing in stale slug soup for days."
"That batch was for Gryffindor—brutal stuff." He chuckled. "This one's Lovegood-special. Tweaked the recipe for extra sugar; took a bit, but perfect timing."
Luna uncorked the vial and downed it in one go. The effect hit like a spark: color flooded her cheeks, turning them rosy as a ripe apple. Thin white steam curled from her ears and crown, carrying a faint, sweet scent.
She blinked, feeling the buzz. "What's happening to me?"
"See for yourself." Vizette tapped his wand to the empty vial, transfiguring it into a hand mirror with a casual Vera Verto.
Luna peered in, giggling. "I look like... the Hogwarts Express?"
"More like the Lovegood Express."
"Yes! Choo-choo!" She laughed as the flush faded, energy surging through her like a jolt of sunlight. The afternoon nap had left her flu-ridden, but the potion worked its magic swiftly.
Vizette watched her fascination with the steam, her eyes lighting up as she twisted to catch every wisp. "Brought preventatives too—just in case." He produced two more vials. "Didn't think we'd need the Pepperup so soon."
Luna set the mirror aside, curious. "Preventatives?"
"Like that Sprite from the department store." He uncapped the vials, revealing fizzy, lemony liquid, and unwrapped his parcel: roast chicken legs, sausages, crispy potato slices, and a golden Yorkshire pudding stuffed with beef.
Since discovering the Hogwarts kitchens, he'd made a habit of popping in. The house-elves were overjoyed to oblige, solving his chronic tardiness to meals.
"Share?" Luna crunched a potato slice, then offered him a chicken leg.
Vizette took a bite, chasing it with a sip of preventative. "Taste?"
"Spot-on Sprite... with a cola twist from the herbs?" She pondered, nibbling thoughtfully.
"Exactly—Dittany and a few others for the kick." He halved the pudding, passing her the meatier portion. "Any tweaks?"
Luna chewed, steam wisps still dancing faintly. "Sweeter herbs next time? But it's brilliant—like a party in a bottle." She beamed, the cold already a distant memory, as the fire crackled companionably between them.
…
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