InsaneJournal

There it was again, that brief headache, that flicker of dizziness that would leave Luna feeling like she had a pack of firewhiskey and a nasty hangover. But the last time she had drunk that much was way back when at her own party, and the feeling had gone over much better than it was now.

The corner of Luna’s eyes made contact with the heel of her hand as they tried (and failed) to rub the disturbing lightheaded feeling out of her sinuses. Pretty soon both hands were rubbing at her temple as she stumbled her way to a nearby stool. It wasn’t the first time this had been happening. It had been coming on again, off again, like a couple in a cheesy romance novel, suddenly surprising her with the headache’s swift gust. Her mind lay open to it, as she had stubbornly refused to see a doctor.

But now the pain had been incrementally increasing, the dizziness fading almost to black as her eyes focused and the unfocused on the sign of the shop across the street. There was no denying it. She was sick.

A sign floated faintly in her mind, a sign that bore the words "Clearwater Clinic". Yes, that was right, Penelope had a clinic in Hogsmeade. She stumbled out the door, flipping the sign with a finger to "Closed", and climbed onto the back of Sarkara, feebly mumbling to the thestral her destination.

However, sick as she was, Luna was determined not to seem too physically incapacitated when she arrived, and so at the thestral’s landing she smoothed out her robes and her hair, hopping daintily off (though still holding a tight grip on Sarkara’s mane for support) and rang the doorbell.

The colour was drained from her cheeks and her appearance much frailer than normal, but she was smiling, ever so faintly.

“Miss Clearwater?”