The Lion and the Eagle |Neville Longbottom|

14. Bed Rest, Bad News, and a Visitor From the Past

I felt worse the next morning.

Even though I attempted my hardest to persuade him, Neville wouldn't give an inch into letting us move. We'd be here for quite a while according to him since my fever was up. I couldn't help it; I was shaking with two blankets on me.

Since I was too ill, Neville had to fly solo when hunting. I knew he hated to do it. I'd be a sitting duck, so to speak, but that was should the enchantments be breached.

Neville was the only one out of the two of us who was actually moving around the tent. The only time I ever got up was to use the bathroom or change. I was for the most part bedridden. I never got up to eat; Neville always gave me food in bed, which I found to be sweet but sometimes unnecessary.

Days passed, and soon it became one week. My condition was a rollercoaster. One day I'd feel slightly better, one day I'd feel really good, but then it'd all crash and burn, and I'd end up back to square one, or worse.

Right now, time felt irrelevant. If I had to guess, we were somewhere in November, perhaps the beginning of the month.

I was curled up in the two thickest blankets possible. I was pretty sure it was morning, because the sun made the tent glow outside. Birds chirped, trying to cheer me up with a song.

Neville lightly snored in his section of the tent. The radio crackled quietly as white noise like always. Sometime soon, when I would be feeling better, I'd turn it up and tune it. We needed some kind of variety before we both died of boredom.

Luckily for Neville and me, the Death Eaters hadn't returned to our area of the Forest of Dean since the sighting about a week ago. We were free of them, but we had no doubt that they would possibly return. The thought of the Death Eaters made me think of the other Aurors out there. They obviously hadn't had any success since there had been two in the Forest of Dean.

And what about Hermione? I tried to think of the nicest conclusion: that the disguised Death Eater left her alone, and that Hermione told Ron about it. I hated to have brought that scare on her.

My thoughts were interrupted by Neville shuffling to his feet. He dragged himself to me. He looked so hunched over I thought he would either stop and fall over, or just fall over while walking. Bags under his eyes were more prominent with each day, but I saw the never-fading determination to do his job in his hazel eyes.

"You could've slept in," I croaked. I shuddered under the blankets once. "You don't need to wake yourself up so early."

"How is it early?" he asked tiredly.

"I saw the sun rise not too long ago."

"Oh. Well, I don't mind."

"I do."

"How're you feeling?" Neville did the normal routine of putting his hand to my forehead, concentrating intently.

"I should be getting better soon." I tried to stay positive between the two of us. "I hate what this is doing to you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I slowly propped myself up on my elbows. "Because of me, you're losing sleep. You're overworking yourself. Look at you, Neville! You look like you're about ready to pass out every time I watch you move. The last thing I want is for you to fall ill."

"I won't."

"Keep thinking that."

"Are you hungry?"