Hastily Dominic threw the covers over her, the bottle of Polyjuice, and the journal, trusting that she would take the dose and that it would sink in swiftly. He wanted to write to Hestia more, he wanted to reassure her, but there was no time for that now.
"Just lay down, love." He called back into the bedroom, closing the door. "I'm sorry you two," he said apologetically, "But Hestia is ill, contagious, and in a surly mood to boot. She doesn't want visitors just now." He stood firmly between them and the door, eyeing them warily. "Why don't you both go back to the house, and I'll see you when I get home? I don't want either of you coming down with something."