"Yeah, I get it mate. If anyone asks, I’ll say you’re not feeling well, okay? I’ll bring you some lunch after the match, get some more sleep," Harry felt a hand briefly rest on his shoulder through the duvet. He listened, his heart hammering in his chest (because of his distress, or because of his reduced blood volume he couldn’t say), as Ron padded over to the dormitory door, opened it, stepped outside, and closed it again with a quiet click.