Moving hurt. Thinking about moving hurt. Every part of her hurt. Her limbs felt like they were on fire. She was pretty certain her throat was on fire. But chills shook her body, the ache in them reaching down to the deep recesses of her bones. Her incessant cough wracked her body with awful spasms, hurting not only her already pain-riddled limbs but her angry throat as well.

Her breathing was slow and painful – big surprise there. Willow just wanted the agony to end. Enough with feeling like a hot poker had been shoved down her throat, like she had been dumped into a pool of artic water. As hot as her throat felt, her body seemed impossible to get warm. So she shivered under the many layers of blankets she was swaddled in, even the weight of them hurting.

Willow tried not to cry. She hated crying, especially when others were around to hear. But she whimpered. There was no holding it back. She whimpered and tears streamed down her cheeks, adding to her shame.

There was a fuss near the front of the room. There always was a fuss. Despite the pain, Willow tried to lift her head up for a look. It was like her head had been replaced by a bludger though. Barely getting it half an inch off the pillow, it dropped back down and sent a shock of aches tingling throughout her entire body.

Willow groaned and curled in on herself, facing the only other person she really had had a chance to look at besides Pomfrey. Tessa wasn’t exactly her number one choice of neighbors. Gulping and whimpering even more, Willow closed her eyes, her lips quivering along with her shallow breathing. She licked her lips, parched but not wanting to move for a drink or to even open her mouth to call for one. Being thirsty was the least of her concerns.

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