* * * *

A L L E R G I C

Stop Whining.


His throat was on fire. Eyes watering, he clutched the sheets tightly. Where was Madam Pomfrey when he needed her the most?

Merlin. He was going to die. Alone. Lips enlarged. Throat closed. Eyes puffy.

What possessed him to eat the cherries even though he knew better? That he would get like this, and be bed-ridden all day?

James let out a yelp.

“Quiet down, Mister Potter.” Her hands touched his cheeks and turned his face. “It’s remarkable. I have a patient whose arm is barely attached to his shoulder, and you’re here crying like a baby hippogriff. Tsk. Tsk.”