Revealing the Truth
~ by Healer Pomfrey ~
As you know, I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes.
All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.
Harry and Ron feverishly scribbled Hermione's words on their parchments as she patiently dictated them their Potions essays in turns. One sentence for Harry, then one for Ron, since they couldn't write exactly the same. It was already after midnight, and Harry couldn't help yawning. From time to time, while Hermione was talking to Ron, he threw the girl concerned looks. She seemed strangely absentminded, her cheeks were unnaturally flushed, and she was uncharacteristically rubbing her forehead every now and then.
'I wonder if she is all right,' Harry mused while he hurriedly scribbled his next sentence. "Hermione, are you feeling well?" he asked softly, suddenly noticing that her voice sounded slightly strange.
"Of course," Hermione replied crisply and turned back to Ron, before she suddenly searched her book bag for tissues and let out a series of sneezes, causing the two boys to look at each other with raised eyebrows.
"Mione, are you sick?" Ron asked straight away, causing Hermione to shake her head, sniffling.
"No, it's just... allergies," she replied too quickly.
'Her forehead is full of sweat, although she seems to be cold, and her eyes look strange tonight,' Harry observed and quickly excused himself.
"Oh, I need to go to the bathroom too," Ron blurted out as he saw his friend heading in the direction and quickly followed Harry. "What are you doing?" he asked in surprise, noticing that Harry wasn't using the toilet but rummaging the small cupboard.
"I'm searching for a thermometer. I think that Hermione is running a fever," Harry replied softly, causing Ron to look at him in surprise. "Ah here," Harry said, pulling an old, glassy stick out of the cupboard. "I'll probably need your help though. Can you ask her something, so that she opens her mouth for me?"
"Of course," Ron promised and quickly headed to the toilet, before he followed Harry back into the otherwise empty common room.
Harry sat next to Hermione on the sofa, causing the girl to throw him a confused look. "You're not done yet, Harry," she said firmly.
"I know, but I wanted to check something," Harry replied softly, glancing at Ron.
"Mione, can you explain why I need so much of the frog skin here?" Ron queried, causing Hermione to sigh.
She coughed a few times, before she replied, "You need to..."
Harry used that instant to stick the thermometer into her mouth, efficiently shutting her up.
"No, Mione, please wait a moment," Harry said softly, gently placing a hand on her sweaty forehead. "You're clearly running a fever, and I want to know how high it is to assess what's wrong with you."
Shivering violently under her friend's cold touch, Hermione sighed and leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, unconsciously sighing in relief. Ignoring Ron's appalled glare, Harry gently stroked her hot cheeks to make her a little more comfortable until the thermometer finally beeped.
"38.8," he announced, glancing at the display.
"I'm fine, only my head hurts a bit," Hermione protested weakly.
"You're also running a fever, and if you want it or not, we're either going to take you to the hospital wing, or you'll lie down here and do as we say," Ron replied firmly.
"It's just a stupid cold, no need to make such a fuss," Hermione objected, but obediently allowed Harry to lead her into his dormitory and help her into his bed.
"Sleep Mione, Ron and I will be here with you," he said softly, gently adjusting a wet towel to her forehead.
Harry spent the whole night sitting on the edge of the bed, bathing Hermione's flushed face. With concern he noticed that she felt hotter by the hour, and when Harry and Ron woke her up in time for classes, she blearily opened her eyes just a little bit.
"Mione, we need to check you temperature again," Ron said softly, "can you open your mouth please?"
"Harry," Hermione sighed, "I don't feel good."
"It's Ron," Ron said angrily, glaring at his friend, who just busied himself sticking the thermometer into his girlfriend's mouth. "Why is in Hermione in your bed at all?" he asked, suddenly feeling very jealous.
"Shut up," Harry replied shortly, noticing that Hermione began to shiver violently. "Mione, your fever is up to 39.5 degrees," he said in concern. "Let me take you to the hospital wing."
"No," Hermione replied, coughing. "Just let me stay here. If I'm still sick in the evening, I'll go to the hospital wing. Today is the last day of classes, right?"
"Yes, we're going home tomorrow," Ron replied in a slightly cold voice, still feeling angry at his girlfriend and his supposed to be best friend.
"I'll try to nick a Pepperup potion and a fever reducer from the hospital wing," Harry promised and quickly headed towards the Great Hall, sighing in relief when he saw Madam Pomfrey sitting together with Professor McGonagall and the other teachers at the Head table. He hurried to the hospital wing and took two phials of Pepperup and three phials of fever reducer, before he hurried back to his dormitory, handing each of the potions to his sick friend and hiding the others in his drawer.
Harry dragged himself through his classes, noticing sadly that Ron seemed to completely ignore him. He skipped History of Magic, which was his first afternoon class, and spent the time with Hermione, who didn't seem better at all.
'I should have nicked a headache potion too,' he thought as he entered the Transfiguration classroom for his last afternoon class. 'Well, it's natural that I'm tired after spending the whole night looking after Hermione, but do I have to have such a headache?' he thought, feeling completely annoyed.
"Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Potter, please remain after class," all of a sudden, the Headmistress' voice penetrated his head.
"Yes Professor," he replied tiredly and looked curiously at Neville, noticing that he looked as flushed and sick as Hermione. Fortunately, the class was over after a few minutes, and Harry slowly approached the teacher.
"Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Potter, both of you have not been paying any attention in my class today," McGonagall said crisply. "Are you both feeling well?"
"I might have caught a cold," Neville admitted in a small voice, causing the teacher to quickly extend a hand, placing it on his forehead.
"Mr. Longbottom, you are burning up. Mr. Potter, are you ill as well, or what is wrong, and where is Ms. Granger by the way?"
Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, Professor. I'm not ill, but Hermione. She is running a fever and stayed in my bed today. I'm only tired and have a headache because of looking after her all night."
McGonagall quickly felt Harry's forehead as well. "You're warm too, Mr. Potter. Both of you return to your dormitories and go to bed. I'll have to check if Madam Pomfrey is still in the castle. She is leaving now any minute. Otherwise, I'll come and check on you in a few minutes."
Harry and Neville slowly returned to their dormitory, and Harry gently helped Neville into bed, before he took a seat on the edge of Hermione's bed and began to speak with her in a small voice.
A few minutes later, Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room, and Harry quickly sat with Neville, while the Healer checked on Hermione, muttering to herself in apparent annoyance. In the meantime, Professor McGonagall had found Ron, Seamus and Dean and shooed everyone into the dormitory.
"Ms. Granger has caught the Squid's flu," Pomfrey announced, causing the Headmistress to let out a gasp.
"Excuse me, Madame, but what is the Squid's flu?" Hermione croaked, throwing the Healer an anxious look.
"The Squid's flu is a not so much different from the wizard's flu, but it goes along with a very high fever, a bad throat infection and yellow spots, which begin at the hands and feet and extend over the arms and legs. The worse the illness becomes, the farther the spots spread."
"Do the others have the Squid's flu as well?" Minerva asked in concern.
"We'll see," Pomfrey replied crisply and proceeded to check on Seamus and Dean. "You're both fine. Professor McGonagall will assign you a room to stay in tonight and will give you a preventive potion later on. Mr. Weasley, the same goes for you. A house-elf will fetch your belongings later on. Out of you, all three of you."
"No buts, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall interrupted him sternly. "Alternatively, you may return home tonight. We can contact your mother later on."
"No, I want to stay with Hermione. She is my girlfriend, and Harry is my best friend."
Pomfrey shooed him out and turned to Harry. "You're going to stay at Hogwarts anyway?" she queried after taking his temperature and casting a series of diagnostic spells.
"Yes," Harry replied anxiously.
"Mr. Potter, I'm not one hundred percent sure what is ailing you; maybe it's just a bad cold, but it could be a beginning of the flu and just too early to diagnose. However, you're running a slight fever and have a bad headache, so I need you to stay in bed. Professor McGonagall will check on you again later on and contact me or Professor Snape if necessary. You can take Mr. Weasley's bed for the time being."
Harry sighed and sat on the edge of Ron's empty bed. He observed the Healer check on Neville, knowing from her expression that it must be bad.
"Minerva, Mr. Longbottom has caught the Squid's flu as well. Did you come in contact with the Giant Squid?"
"No Madame," Neville said hoarsely, "but we had to care for a small squid in Hagrid's class a week ago, and I was paired with Hermione. Maybe our squid was sick."
"Apparently," Pomfrey replied, nodding, and threw McGonagall a thoughtful look. "I'm very sorry, but I need to go to St. Mungo's, where I'm going to be for the next two weeks. Professor McGonagall will look after the three of you and call me if necessary. Please do exactly as she says."
"I'll be back with your potions in a few minutes," McGonagall said as she left the room together with the Mediwitch, throwing a glare at Harry that made him lie down quickly.
A while later, McGonagall returned with several potions phials, tissues, thermometers and bottles with water. She placed the items on the three night tables and made her patients drink their potions. "Mr. Potter, if you feel any change or feel worse, you must tell me immediately." She called Malcolm, her personal house-elf, who appeared with a small pop.
"Mistress Minerva," he said, bowing slightly.
"Malcolm, I have to look after three sick students during the holidays. Please make a connecting door from this dormitory to my personal quarters, so that it'll be easier to look after them."
"Of course, Mistress Minerva," Malcolm replied and popped away.
Minutes later, Harry was already slowly drifting off to sleep when he noticed that a door had appeared right opposite of his bed. He woke up to a cold hand on his forehead, shivering violently at the cold touch.
"Harry, I'm sorry to wake you up," he heard the Headmistress' voice, "but I need to take your temperature. You don't feel any better, do you?"
"Not really," Harry replied, noticing that he still had a splitting headache and felt hot and cold at the same time. He lazily cracked his eyes open, realising that he couldn't open them very far. They seemed to be swollen to at least twice their normal size, and they hurt.
"Can you open your mouth for me please?" McGonagall asked softly and coaxed a Muggle thermometer under his tongue. While they were waiting for the reading, she quietly talked to Harry and told him that she had made a connecting door to her quarters. "I should be able to hear you if you shout," she said softly, adding more to herself than to Harry, "It's difficult to be Headmistress and Head of House at the same time. I really hope that some of you will remain here at Hogwarts next year."
Harry threw the professor a surprised look, but his attention was diverted when the teacher took the thermometer back and frowned. "Your fever has gone up, which means that it probably is not a cold. I will only give you a fever reducer, and if it still goes up, we'll have to call Madam Pomfrey or Professor Snape." She gently helped Harry up into a somewhat sitting position, just enough to take a potion, before she tucked him in and placed a wet towel on his forehead. "Try to go back to sleep, Harry. I'll come and check on you later on."
Harry obediently drifted back into a much needed healing sleep, from which he woke up to hushed voices coming from his own bed. He slowly turned onto his stomach and glanced over to where Hermione was supposed to be resting. Ron was sitting on the edge of her bed, gently stroking her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mione, but I have to go home tomorrow. You really feel hot and sick. I'd prefer to stay here with you."
Hermione unconsciously nestled into his cold touch. "Feels good, want to have you here too, Harry," she mumbled.
"Harry? Again?" Ron asked in disbelief, before he asked in a slightly angry voice, "Who is it that you want to be your boyfriend, Harry or Ron?"
Harry was just on the verge of scrambling out of bed and stopping Ron from asking such questions, when he heard Hermione's reply, followed by quick footsteps and the slamming of the door. Then everything was quiet. 'Ron is so stupid,' Harry groaned inwardly. 'She is delirious. She is his girlfriend.' He slowly stood up, holding on to the wall until a first bout of dizziness passed and stepped over to Hermione's side.
"Mione," he softly caught her attention. Seeing that she opened her eyes just a little bit, he asked, "Do you know what you just told Ron?"
Hermione sighed. "Harry, I'm sick and I'm feeling miserable. I'm not in a condition to carefully consider what to say. I could only tell him the truth. He was cuddling with me for ages, and I thought it was you, but then suddenly I opened my eyes and saw him, and I was disappointed. Oh, I'm sorry, Harry." She wiped a few tears from her cheeks.
"Mione, there is nothing you have to be sorry for, and there is no need to suppress your feelings," Harry said softly; "however, you seem to be very ill, and you shouldn't make yourself so upset." He carefully took the wet towel that had slipped from her forehead, glad that McGonagall had charmed it to remain cool, and gently adjusted it to her hot forehead, before he hesitantly stroked her flushed cheeks.
"You feel hot compared to Ron," Hermione whispered. "You're ill as well."
"Yes, but they don't know yet if I caught what you have," Harry said softly. "It's probably only a cold."
"I'm glad you'll be here with me all the time," Hermione whispered. "I love you, Harry."
'She is delirious and confused about the matter with Ron,' Harry told himself but replied, "I love you too, Mione." He leaned forward and carefully breathed a soft kiss on her cheek, causing Hermione to slowly pull him down onto her bed. "I knew," she breathed, "ever after that night in the tent, I wanted that..." She slowly trailed off as her lips found Harry's, and she pulled him into a kiss.
Harry finally pulled away, taking a few quick breaths. "Harry, I am not delirious. It's true what I said about the time in the tent. Ever since then, I wanted to kiss you and feel your hands on my body." She gently gripped his right hand and led it under her blanket and under her pyjama top.
Harry felt his body explode in heat and excitement as he suddenly felt her small breasts. "Mione, are you sure you want this?" he croaked. "McGonagall could come in any minute."
"Take my temperature," Hermione suggested. "Stick that thing under my armpit. That gives you the best excuse to have your hands there."
'I'll do that. I really need to know if she's delirious. She seems very alert and she doesn't even feel so hot anymore,' Harry thought as he carefully slipped the thermometer under her armpit and allowed Hermione to use her free hand to gently lead him over the soft curves of her body. 'She feels so wonderful,' Harry thought as he slowly caressed the upper part of her body, unconsciously resting his achy head on her arm. The beeping of the thermometer pulled him out of his reverie, but before he could move his hands to pull the device out, Hermione turned towards his face, once more finding his mouth with her lips. Harry finally pulled off, driven by the urge to cough. He let out a few harsh coughs, while Hermione pulled the thermometer out, glanced at the display and placed it back on the night table.
"How high was it?" Harry asked hoarsely, causing Hermione to throw him a concerned look.
"Thirty-nine point three," Hermione replied softly. "I bet yours is higher. I think you need to go back to bed," she whispered, causing Harry to agree and slowly sit up.
"Good night, Mione, love you," he said and dragged himself back to his bed, violently shivering as he finally lay down, curling up deep under his blankets.
"I love you too, and I mean it," he heard Hermione whisper just loud enough for him to hear and drifted off to sleep with a smile playing on his lips that still felt the soft touch of her kiss.
HP HEALER POMFREY HP
Harry drifted back to semi-awareness when something ice-cold touched his forehead. He slowly opened his eyes only to close them again, noticing that he seemed to be on a roller coaster. 'Oh no, even if my eyes are closed, everything turns around,' he realised, letting out a small moan.
"Harry, are you feeling worse?" he heard McGonagall's voice.
"Yeah," he mumbled, feeling absolutely miserable.
"Please open your mouth," he was told and automatically obeyed.
With the cold, glassy stick in his mouth he felt even more uncomfortable, and he couldn't help his teeth beginning to chatter. He heard the professor talk to him, but he couldn't understand a word. The whole world seemed to be turning into a white fog. An infinite time later, he felt the ice being removed from his lips and curled up to a ball, nestling as deep under his covers as possible. Like from far away, he could hear the professor's voice and then Neville's and even Hermione's. Suddenly, even Snape seemed to take part in their conversation, and he noticed a tingling sensation run over his body, from his feet to his head, where it lingered for a moment, before it ran downwards again.
Once more, the hushed conversation began, but only one word penetrated Harry's foggy mind. "Poison," the Potions Master's deep voice stated.
"I don't care if the ingredients are poisonous or not, I can't even see them. Everything is foggy and turning around," Harry mumbled hoarsely. 'Someone filled my head and ears and everything with cotton wool,' he thought as he drifted off to fever induced nightmares.
He was standing in his dormitory looking out onto the grounds. Suddenly, he saw Ron Weasley leave the castle in a quick speed. He seemed to be very angry.
"No Ron, wait! It's not like that. Please, I didn't mean to," Hermione shouted, running after him.
"I saw you," Ron replied angrily and pointed his wand at the girl, mumbling something that Harry didn't understand, causing Hermione to collapse on the ground. With an evil cackling, Ron continued to run into the Forbidden Forest.
Harry observed terrified how the snowflakes buried Hermione's unconscious body. He wanted to run, to help her, but he couldn't move.
Suddenly, he felt someone shake his shoulders. "Mr. Potter," he heard the Potions professor's voice. "You must open your eyes for a moment."
There was something in that voice that made him obey without questioning. He hesitantly opened the two large balls that had grown to about the size of his head and moaned as the sunrays streamed right into one his eyes. He quickly closed them again.
"No Harry, you must do as Professor Snape says," McGonagall told him in a stern voice.
"Once more, Mr. Potter. It'll be over soon," Snape reassured him in a surprisingly soft voice.
Another stream of bright light hit his other eye. "Hurts," Harry mumbled, burying his face in his arms.
"At least he seems to be a bit more alert," McGonagall stated.
"Yes, but that's only because I gave him the strongest fever reducer I had in stock. The fever is not life threatening anymore. However, I need to brew the antidote to the poison, which is no problem anymore. I'm fairly sure about what it is. I merely need to take a blood sample. Mr. Potter, I need your elbow for an instant."
Harry felt someone tug his elbow, while his thoughts went haywire. "Poison?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Potter, you seem to have been poisoned. I must check your blood to be exactly sure which antidote you need." The professor magically took three drops of blood that dropped from Harry's elbow into a small phial.
"Poison? Need to check Hermione," he said urgently, before he ended up in a coughing fit.
"It's all right, Harry," McGonagall said soothingly. "You're delirious. Hermione is all right. Poisoning is not contagious."
"No but I kissed her," Harry admitted in a small voice, causing the Potions Master to turn on his heels.
"Is that true?" he demanded to know.
"No," McGonagall said soothingly. "Ms. Granger is Mr. Weasley's girlfriend. Mr. Potter wouldn't do such a thing. It's all right, Harry," she interrupted Harry's feverish attempts to interrupt her.
Snape gave her a small nod of understanding and left the dormitory through the connecting door to McGonagall's quarters.
"Professor, please ask Hermione," Harry said in a hoarse but urgent voice. "Maybe it's only because I'm delirious, but I think she sent Ron away and kissed me. I didn't kiss her, she did."
McGonagall gently patted his shoulder. "All right, Harry. I'll go and ask Ms. Granger."
Harry couldn't hear what the two witches were talking about, until Hermione's voice became louder. "Ron is an immature, jealous lazybones. I've been hiding my feelings since the war, but last night I felt too bad to continue. I don't love him. I love Harry."
The professor said something that Harry couldn't understand, and Hermione began to cry. "Will he be all right?" she sobbed.
Before Harry could hear anything else, he drifted off to more feverish nightmares.
"That's it!" Ron shouted angrily. "My girlfriend and my best friend betrayed me!"
"Maybe you understood something wrong," Mrs. Weasley said soothingly. "Speak with Hermione once more."
"No. I'm going to leave Hogwarts. I've enough of the magical world. Pity that Potter killed You-Know-Who. I'd have joined him today."
"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley said in annoyance. "Please behave yourself."
"No, I won't. Fred, George, may I work in your shop?"
"Of course, little brother..."
"... although you must know that one third of the shop belongs to Harry."
Without a further word, Ron turned around and left, sticking his wand in the mud outside as he went.
"Mr. Potter!" Snape's voice pulled Harry out of his nightmare. "I need you to remain awake for a few minutes."
Harry lazily opened his eyes, noticing that he felt much better. He still had a terrible headache, but the white fog that had been engulfing him earlier had vanished.
"How are you feeling?" the professor asked, while he gripped Harry's wrist, looking at his own wrist watch.
"Much better, sir," Harry replied, realising that his throat felt raw and dry.
Finally releasing his wrist, the professor gently helped him to sit up and pressed a glass of water against his lips. "Only small sips," he instructed him in a soft voice.
Harry wanted to drink faster. He felt so thirsty, but the professor kept the glass in a firm grip.
"I spelled the antidote into your system, Mr. Potter. You're not in danger anymore. However, you'll have to remain in bed, until the flu-like symptoms you're experiencing are completely gone."
"Thank you, sir. What about Hermione?" Harry asked in concern.
The professor smirked. "Just to be sure, I have given her the antidote as well, even if she is not showing any signs of poison yet. She will be all right. How you could be so stupid as to kiss someone, who is ill with the Squid flu though?" he sneered.
"Um... I didn't think about it, and it's not as if I kissed her. She kissed me," Harry said in a hardly audible voice, looking sheepishly at the professor, who raised an eyebrow.
"Must be a family trait," Snape mumbled, remembering how he had spent the winter holidays in the hospital wing together with Lily, who insisted on kissing him when he carried her to the hospital wing after she had collapsed in class. Unfortunately, she had caught the wizard's measles, causing him to come down with it shortly later.
Seeing that Harry was looking at him questioningly, he quickly said, "We'll see. Now, go back to sleep, Mr. Potter."
Harry felt Hermione lie down next to him and gently kiss his forehead, before she moved her hands over his body. 'Feels good,' Harry thought and carefully slid his hands under her pyjama top to caress her gentle curves. 'She is beautiful.' Suddenly, something began to tickle his arms that felt so hot and sore anyway, and Harry tried in vain to carefully pry her hands away from his arms, mumbling, "Mione, please don't." Slowly beginning to feel annoyed, he tried harder to push her away until a soft, baritone voice penetrated his ears.
"Don't do that, Mr. Potter. Let me examine your arms to see if you're already getting a rash. You have caught the Squid flu."
Harry lazily opened his eyes, realising that the Potions Master was sitting on the edge of his bed, carefully trying to pull his pyjama sleeve up. "Hermione?" he blurted out, glancing around, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
"Ms. Granger already has a bad rash, but we only caught the illness when it was fairly progressed. You're luckier, because we already expected you to take ill, and I already began to give you the Squid flu potion yesterday," the professor patiently explained.
'Oh, thank God, that was only a dream,' Harry realised, suddenly feeling very stupid. "I think I have a rash on both arms," he said softly and took his pyjama top off, realising that the cream the professor gently spread on his arms felt wonderful cool and soothing to his sore skin.
During the next few days, the three seventh year students in the dormitory remained very ill and weren't even able to communicate with each other; only around Christmas, their condition slowly began to improve. The night before Christmas day, Harry observed in amazement as the Headmistress set up a small Christmas tree in their dormitory and transfigured two packs of tissues from his night table into wonderful baubles. Seeing that Harry was watching, McGonagall took another tissue and transfigured it into a golden Snitch, before she once more waved her wand at it, making the Snitch fly around the tree.
"Cool," Harry whispered, observing how the Snitch hid between the branches. "Thank you, Professor. This is a beautiful tree."
"I'm glad you like it, Harry," McGonagall replied softly. "Now try to go back to sleep, please. I hope that you'll feel well enough to enjoy the tree tomorrow."
By the time Harry woke up in the morning, the branches of the tree were full with bubbling cauldrons, from which small silver stars emerged, and the Snitch apparently had given up on hiding between the branches but was flying around the tree in a steady speed. 'That must have been Snape's work,' he chuckled, when all of a sudden, Hermione sat on the edge of his bed.
"Hi Harry, happy Christmas," she whispered. "I heard something very interesting this morning. While Snape charmed the Christmas tree, McGonagall came and told him that she wanted to offer the three of us teaching positions at Hogwarts after our NEWTs. She told him she wants Neville as Herbology teacher and Hufflepuff Head, you as Transfiguration teacher and Gryffindor Head and me as Charms teacher and Ravenclaw Head, because the Hat had told her that we were supposed to be in these Houses."
"Really?" Harry asked in excitement. 'I'd love to become a teacher together with Hermione and Neville,' he thought.
"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked softly, quickly slipping under his covers.
"Much better," Harry whispered, unconsciously pulling her close. "And you?"
"I think I'm much better, but maybe you should better take my temperature." Chuckling, she carefully pulled her pyjama top up, pressing the thermometer from the night table into his hand.
'She feels so soft, and her skin is so wonderful cool; feels good,' Harry mused as he carefully eased the cold device under her armpit and began to gently caress her small breasts.
"Your skin still feels very warm to the touch," Hermione whispered as she carefully stroked Harry's cheeks. "I think..." She interrupted herself to take the thermometer out and smiled as she looked at the display, before she carefully pulled Harry's pyjama top up, sighing. "I must check your temperature as well. I need to cool your body a bit. Now, keep it in here," she slightly admonished Harry, before she gently ran her cold hands over his still warm body.
"Mione, I don't want my temperature taken; it's too cold," Harry whispered, slightly shivering.
"All right then, I have other ways to check it," Hermione replied and replaced the device on the night table, frowning at the half-finished reading. She pulled Harry close into her arms and turned to her side, gently covered his mouth with her lips and carefully pushed her tongue into his mouth, pulling him into a heated kiss.
"And? What is the verdict?" Harry asked, chuckling, when Hermione finally pulled back.
"Hmm, still quite a fever," she replied softly. "However, just so you know, I wasn't delirious that time. My fever is completely gone, but I still love you, Harry."
"I love you too, Mione," Harry whispered, nestling deep into her cool touch.