Primrose Darling had nodded so sincerely in spite of her silent coughing that Madame Pomfrey was convinced she had not rested in her dorm the previous day at all.  At first she'd given the little girl a bell to ring whenever she needed anything, but Pomfrey soon began to doubt the wisdom in this decision as the child seemed inclined to play Carol of the Bells whenever she felt strong enough to lift the instrument.  At last she'd gotten down a pack of exploding snap and showed Prim how to try to build a small card castle before the cards exploded, first with four cards, then with 8, and so on.

Of course, that meant tiny explosions going off in the infirmary, but she was hopeful the girl would at least rest.  Prim wasn't the only one chafing at being bed ridden. Pomfrey awoke at 4 AM to give out potions and change poultices and found Mr. Warwick in Miss Watkins bed of all places.

"Mr. Warwick."  She said, voice sharp in spite of her whisper.  "Mr. Warwick, you will return to your own bed this instance."  If she sounded irritable it was not directed entirely at him, and she had a hand ready to support him back across the infirmary.

"How do you intend to get well if you do not rest." She tutted.  She glanced back toward Gloria, who had shown no sign of being disturbed by her bed fellow.  The mediwitch almost wished that she had.