The whole thing was a mess. Everything Sybill thought she had come home to try and help fix, it all just kept getting worse. Here she was feeling sick as a dog, anything she tried to eat coming straight back up, and why? Because goddamn death eaters couldn’t even let them have May Day. It wasn’t even a wizarding celebration, for crying out loud! There had been muggles there- wasn’t the point of their whole organization that they wanted muggles out of the wizarding world?
Sybill couldn’t think about it right now, anyway, because her head felt like it had been stuffed full of sand and her limbs weren’t fairing much better. But she was missing another day of work, so she had to do something, and why not focus on potions that might make her feel better? She normally only brewed outside, but she wasn’t sure all the pollen would help her condition right now so she’d set up shop in the living room instead, bleary eyed and curled up on her sofa as she stirred and added ingredients.
Normally, she got some sort of a sense about someone at the door and could open it before they knocked, but today she was halfway to dozing off, and the sound of knuckles rapping against wood jolted her back awake.
They knocked again, like they’d been waiting a while, and Sybill gathered herself together to answer the door. “Edith?” She squinted against the daylight, half guessing. “You can’t come in. I’m sick.”
@edithburning
