The cozy warmth of Ginny’s bedroom at the Burrow wrapped around you like a protective spell. The scent of lavender and fresh linens mingled with the faint aroma of her family’s bustling kitchen downstairs. It was soothing, even in your feverish haze.

Ginny had insisted you stay in her room, away from the noise and chaos of the rest of the house. You’d protested weakly at first, but any resistance crumbled under the gentle determination in her eyes. Now, with your head resting on her lap, you felt a rare moment of peace despite the dull ache in your body.

Her fingers absentmindedly ran through your hair in a rhythm that was as comforting as a lullaby. She’d pulled the quilt tightly around you, ensuring no hint of cold could disturb your rest. Every so often, she’d lean down to check your temperature or press a cool, damp cloth to your forehead, muttering softly, “You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”