# Dominique Weasley
# anthony mclaggen
# dom baby i love you stupid mclaggen stupid stupid
# YOU’RE USELESS IF YOU CAN’T GET IT UP
“Sod off,” he repeated, glaring at her. Later McLaggen would smack himself for allowing himself to get so verbally beaten by Weasley and doing nothing to defend himself but he really couldn’t give a shit at the moment. He felt like dying. That’d be nice. Die out of this sick body and get reborn into the healthy athletic guy he usually was. How the bloody hell did he even get sick in the first place? Ugh, fuck biology and all its dynamics. “Oi!” he protested when she took the tissues out of his nose. Didn’t she know those kept him from leaking disgustingly? Oh Merlin. He covered his nose with his hand, his glare being replaced by a mix of panic and pout. She was obviously having way to much fun with this. But his eyes widened when she mentioned losing muscle mass, darting down to his stomach and back to her. “It won’t!” he persisted. “My abs will be as hard cut as they were two weeks ago!”
His face settled into a uncharacteristically grumpy expression as Weasley tugged the covers off. Anthony looked down at his chest, poking it to make sure it had the same firmness it usually did. “I’m not going to get flabby,” he insisted childishly. His mouth dropped in mortification at the word ‘tampon.’ How dare she! She was making fun of him! She really was getting a kick out of this wasn’t she?
“I find that highly offens - ” Anthony didn’t even finish his sentence when she smacked a cold wet towel on his forehead, seemingly out of nowhere. Oh, Merlin, that felt GOOD. He let out a contented groan and sunk back against the pillow, even though she’d made him prop up. She smacked his stomach, as if to scold him before handing the Pepper Up Potion. He grabbed it from her, looking at her with newfound appreciation.
“Oh Merlin, Weasley, you are a goddess -” he babbled as he attempted to open the bottle, struggling a bit since his hands were SO DAMN SWEATY.
“Yeah, if you keep sulking around like this, you will so get flabby,” Dom teased, rolling her eyes. “You’re just gonna turn in to a fat lump and no one will ever shag you again, and it’ll be just tragic, won’t it?” This was the most fun she’d had in a long time. Call her evil, but seeing people beaten down just brought her joy sometimes. Schadenfreude. Again, she really just wasn’t in to being Mother Theresa. Mother Theresa was celibate. Gross.
Her heart sort of leaped in her chest, and her breath caught in her throat because he was looking at her in this way that made her blush, and her head spin. And she couldn’t even kiss him, which was what she would usually do in this situation, so she just brought her hair around to her front and worked on plaiting that while he struggled with the bottle. She pushed it all down inside of her and locked it in a trunk and threw the key in to the black lake. “I know,” she grinned, sighing and putting a hand to her chest. “But if you didn’t know that already, I’ve been doing something wrong. Which I definitely haven’t been, because I’m awesome.”
Dom snatched the bottle from him, and opened it with her teeth, handing it back to him with another roll of her eyes. “Pathetic. You’re so pathetic.” She put her hands on her hips and watched him drink, and watched the tension in his body slowly dissipate. Stepping forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead to check his fever. It was something her mum had always done. “God, you’re hot. Temperature wise, because Merlin knows you’re not looking your best right now,” she laughed. “You’re just gonna have to wait it out, I guess. I mean. I dunno, do something to distract yourself. I mean, you can’t shag, and you can’t drink, and you can’t play Quidditch, so what can you do? I mean, I’d give you a strip tease if I didn’t think it’d only serve to depress you.”
Ant made a gagging noise when she said the f word. Ugh flabby ugh he didn’t even want to think about that gross gross gross! “You suck Weasley,” he croaked out. “I am NOT going to get flabby. And I’ll have you know that it’ll be just as tragic when the shag of your life disappears - ” His seemingly witty replying was cut off by another fit of coughing. Bloody brilliant. Coughing was shit because coughing made his chest ache and his throat feel all funny and it was absolute shit.
This bottle was testing him. In his normal state, Anthony would’ve been able to open it with his bloody pinky finger but it just wouldn’t budge. He swore, his already fever flushed face turning redder with aggravation, until suddenly it was taken out of his hands by Weasley. He blinked, watching dumbly when she opened it with her mouth and handed it back to him. “How did you do that?” he asked, seemingly astounded, not even paying attention to the fact that she’d insulted him. He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank, wincing a little at the hot rush the liquid brought, but feeling the ache in his body slow ebb away. He looked at Weasley with a grin that was a little more like his smug self before looking dumbfounded. “When did you braid your hair?”
Anthony blinked when Weasley came over and pressed her lips to his forehead. He involuntarily closed his eyes. When was the last time he’d gotten kissed on the forehead? His mum did it to him when he was younger but around the time puberty hit, he ducked away to avoid most of her kisses. Deacon was the one who got showered with them. It was weird. It was strange. It was…intimate. Weasley pulled away before he could even start to make sense of his fever addled thoughts. He opened his eyes and glared weakly at her. “Of course I’m hot. Always hot.” He slumped back into his pillows with a sigh. “Bloody hate being sick.” He twitched a little at her comments. She was right though, no shagging, no drinking, no Quidditch. Everyone was useless shit when they were sick though so. Ugh.