The moment she started to struggle, he should have pulled the water away, but she already had taken a sip and then she was coughing hard enough that he very nearly ran to grab Pomfrey. He waited a moment though, and then she seemed to be doing better, though he was most certainly doing worse. 

"No," he said, smoothing his hand over her arm and then working the sheet up and grabbing at the blanket at the foot of the cot. "It's not a cold. Gloria, you've been in here since sometime Friday," he said. "It's Sunday."

He couldn't keep the worry from his voice, though he tried. Being sick was hard enough without knowing that others worried and Gloria didn't like people to worry about her in general. But worry, he did. 

"Pepper Up won't do anything for you," he said, covering her with the blanket. "She wouldn't let anyone in here for more than seconds at a time yesterday. You need rest, love. Lots and lots of it," he said, gently working his fingers into the tangle of her hair so he'd have something to focus on. Later, he'd bring in a brush, if Pomfrey let him, and try to smooth her hair out for her.