The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual, with most students off enjoying the crisp autumn day outside. You, however, were perched on the arm of the couch beside Ginny, who was bundled up in a thick blanket. Her cheeks were flushed with fever, and her fiery hair was messily tied back as she sniffled into a tissue.

“You look terrible,” you teased softly, earning a weak glare from her.

“Thanks,” she croaked, her voice raspy. “Just what every girl wants to hear.”

You smirked, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Well, you still manage to make ‘sickly’ look good,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “But you should really be in the hospital wing.”

“No,” Ginny muttered stubbornly, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “Madam Pomfrey will just give me one of those awful potions that tastes like troll feet.”

“Better than sitting here being miserable,” you argued, crossing your arms.

Ginny groaned, resting her head back against the cushions. “I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”