Harry raised an eyebrow. Romilda Vane, saying he looked like shite? That was new. He cracked a grin.
"I'm in hospital, I'm suppose to look like shite." He assured her, eyeing her gifts with no small amount of suspicion. "I'm...sick." He answered bluntly, then tried again. "But otherwise, okay. Quitting my job at the Ministry. I had a Quidditch try out on Wednesday, I'm hoping to hear back from teams by Monday."
Trying to keep an eye on the brunette as he did so, Harry poured himself a glass of water from where jug and cup were on the tray over his bed and took a few healthy drinks. He hadn't had much except water in the past few days and hoped his appetite would return once he got back to Number 12 Grimmauld.