Ron's Robes part 2

Hector came around the room passing out our worksheets. I took one and looked it over, but before I could finish, Potter grabbed it out of my hands and stuffed it into his bags, laughing hysterically. Okay...now that's not something Potty would do, but I'm telling the truth. Maybe he's gone crazy. Who knows! He reached out under his desk and sat back up with a pile of books under his arms.

I watched scar face in complete shock as he began to stack all of his books on my desk in front of me. That's right, he started to actually pile his books on MY desk! And in front of my face! Ugh...the nerve! I looked at the books on my desk. Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, Potions, grades two, three, four, and five.

"Potter! Stop! I don't want your filthy books on my desk! Put them away!" I complained.

"Malfoy, my books aren't on your desk, so shut up and help me out with this assignment... you know what? On second thought, don't help me. I don't trust you to answer these right, " he screamed, still stacking books in my face.

Divination, Muggle Studies, Defense Against the Dark Arts...

"I said STOP!" I growled, wishing only I felt better so I could punch him for being so inconsiderate of me.

"But how can I stop putting books on your desk when I've not even put one book on it? Huh? Tell me that," he said, placing a Care of Magical Creatures book on my desk now.

"How can you say that?" I half-screamed, "Look at all these books! I bet there are at least twenty! Here, I'll even count them. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve..."

"Malfoy, you are just pointing to thin air and counting. I see nothing but you acting like an idiot. You've gone totally looney-tunes," Potter so rudely interrupted me.

I scowled, continuing to count, "Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. You see, Potter? There are twenty! Open your eyes," I told him as he rolled his eyes instead of opening them.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy!" he replied sarcastically, now adding an Arithmancy book to my desk.

"Twenty-one," I whispered.

"Total looney-tune..." he whispered back.

"Totally not!" I replied.

He looked me straight in the face now. "You're seeing things other people don't! Tell me you're not totally off your bird!" he said.

"I am not at all off my--" I was interrupted as Professor McGonagall walked towards the two of us.

"What seems to be the problem, boys?" she questioned.

"No problem, Professor," I answered quickly, and perhaps too quickly.

She was on our case now. "No problem between you two? I find that oddly hard to believe, seeing as you haven't even started the assignment. Now, I'm going to ask one more time, what is the problem?" she asked.

"It's Potter," I told her. "You see all the books on my desk? Every one of them is his. Every single bloody book! He keeps denying they are even on my desk, but as you can clearly see, he's lying. Can you believe him? He obviously thinks I'm blind or something. But I'm not...there are twenty-one of his bloody books on my desk...if I counted right that is. But still--"

"Oh, now, hold on, Mr. Malfoy. There are no books on your desk. I don't see what the fuss is about. Unless you're not feeling well...have you felt sick, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No," I lied.

She put her hand on her hip. "Mr. Malfoy..." she drawled.

I sighed. "Fine...I" I stopped, feeling sick once more, so I laid my head down on my desk.

McGonagall bent down in front of me. "Mr. Malfoy, I need to know. How are you not feeling well?" she quizzed again, sounding like a Healer.

I almost felt too weak to answer, but I needed to tell her so I could go back to bed or something. "I can't stop sneezing or coughing and I'm really cold and sweaty. And...I'm feeling queasy too," my voice cracked.

"Perhaps you should visit Madam Pomfrey. The flu has been going around, and if you have it, we certainly don't want you spreading it," she said. "Mr. Potter and Mr. Zabini, would you two kindly escort Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing? I'm afraid he'll pass out if no one helps him. I'd appreciate it so much if you help him out, thank you."

I sighed, lifting my head up and slowly standing up to follow my friend and my enemy. A rush of dizziness hit me once more and the feeling fire in my stomach returned, as I headed for the doors. I made it to the back of the room before I quickly stopped, grabbing the edge of a nearby desktop for support. I felt nauseous as a disgusting taste filled my mouth. I gagged, as more of the taste was forced up my throat, causing me to vomit. Unfortunately, because I held onto Weasley's desk, the vomit sort of ended up on him.

Most of it landed on his shoes, but some of it went into his lap. Many people screamed and started yelling across the room. I felt Blaise and Potter each grab one of my arms to lead me out of the room, although I could barely stand.

Together, with a lot of help from Blaise, we finally reached the hospital wing. I immediately sat down on the nearest bed, praying I wouldn't get sick anymore. Madam Pomfrey walked towards us. "What seems to be the problem, boys?" she asked, sounding annoyed.

Why does everyone keep saying that line? First McGonagall and now Madam Pomfrey! It's not even that great of a line...

"It's Draco," Blaise said.

Madam Pomfrey took a deep sigh, rolling her eyes. She hates me, I think. I've really annoyed her in fiver years...coming to her for paper cuts, sore throats, the flu, pneumonia in fourth year, chick pox in my first year, a hippogriff bite in my third year, a Quidditch accident in my second year... I hope you do know I was just kidding about the paper cuts, right?

"What's wrong now, Mr. Malfoy? Another paper cut, have you?" she questioned, placing her hand on her hip.

Blaise spoke for me, "It's more than a paper cut," he told her.

"Well, what's wrong then?" she asked.

"Yo no se, that's why we're here," Blaise replied.

She nodded and Scar Face smiled. "All we know is that Malfoy's completely lost it. He's hallucinating, vomiting, sweating, shivering, and having dizzy spells," he told me proudly.

I scowled. "I'm not hallucinating!" I screamed.

"Hmm...have you been seeing odd things that no one else does?" she questioned.

"No," I lied. "Except... for when Potter kept stacking books on my desk...twenty-one, I counted them and--"

"You've been hallucinating, like it or not, Mr. Malfoy," she said, taking out a wizard thermometer and scanning it across my forehead.

"105...no wonder you're hallucinating things. Well, don't worry. I know what you have. It's not life threatening...just the flu," she explained.

I'd expected this, so I laid down, feeling dizzy once more. "Madam Pomfrey, cuan largo estara D en aqui?" Blaise questioned as he reached the door, about to return to class.

Madam Pomfrey fumed. "Mr. Zabini, no one here understands Spanish. Please do not expect me or anyone else to understand you. Now, if you will, please repeat your question only in English this time," she tried not to sound too mad, on account that Blaise doesn't even realize he's speaking Spanish most of the time.

He comes from a Latino family. In the summer he visits his cousins in Mexico, where all he speaks is Spanish, and when he returns, it's hard for him to adjust to English again. Therefore, it requires a lot of patience when around him. "I'm sorry...I meant for that to come out in English. I don't know why it came out in Spanish! So, how long is D gonna be in here?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Mr. Zabini, don't waste my time with stupid questions! You know the routine...two weeks at tops," she replied.

Blaise looked shocked at her answer. "No Manera!" he shouted.

Madam Pomfrey's face turned red from anger, sick of Blaise and his Spanish. "Shouldn't you two be reporting back to class by now?" she said harshly.

Blaise smiled. "Okay...adios, Draco," he said, walking away.

Potter just smirked, trying not to laugh as he followed my best friend. I closed my heavy eyes falling into a deep sleep nearly right away...