The Wounded (Remus Lupin, Secret Santa for Dusty15) part 8/?

[RiversD]

Guess who, @Dusty15? Full disclosure, this strayed quite far towards the whumpy end of the spectrum. I started planning a nice fluffy Christmas gift and then bam! post-OOTP pain happened. There will be comfort towards the end, but if the hurt goes beyond what you're happy with, say so.

Also, apologies for keeping to my usual standard of taking forever to get to the point. My rambling has only increased with Christmas retail brain-fry. I'm afraid part 1 is scene-setting with no sneeze action, but there's more on-topic stuff to come, I promise! Anyone only here for sickfic content should skip straight to part IV. You should be able to follow just fine from there.

 

Part I

Remus Lupin re-assembled some shattered tiles and sealed the breaks neatly with his wand. Repair spells were one kind of magic he had become very proficient in over the years. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself.

Aurors were pouring into the ministry now, doing a sterling job of locking the stable door after the horse had already bolted, returned, destroyed its stall and been subdued by a passing stranger. Still, their presence rather reduced the need for his.

He would have liked to go and help the injured, but the healers who were arriving were giving him some very territorial looks. He knew that they were far more capable of helping than he was, but still… these were children. Frightened, hurting children who he felt responsible for, even if he no longer held any official position in their lives.

He had got Neville back on his feet at any rate, and said… gosh, he had said something, he dearly hoped it had been comforting… before someone had taken the lad off somewhere official. Damn it, wasn’t it better for these teenagers to have someone close by that they knew? He could… he could… he was kidding himself. The children were in perfectly good hands, and he knew it. His reasons for wanting to be with them were entirely selfish. He wanted to be busy, to be surrounded by people who needed him and problems he could fix. Otherwise he might soon find himself with nothing left to do but face the fact that a void had just opened up in his life- one made all the more painful because it occupied the same space as an older wound, too-recently healed.

His ribs ached where Harry’s foot had made quite a serious impression. The boy had fought like a demon, all teeth, nails, and flailing limbs. Remus had felt his already-fractured heart shatter as he was forced to hold him back, to try and make him understand that he mustn’t follow, no matter how he wanted to. And Merlin, Remus knew how much he wanted to.

He had wanted to go to Harry, afterwards, but by the time he reached the atrium Dumbledore had whisked him away somewhere. It was probably just as well. He hadn’t the faintest idea what he could have said.

They were bringing the more seriously injured up from the lower levels now. Healers were fluttering around Alastor Moody, who was doing his best to shoo them off despite a very obvious head wound.

Behind him, a group of aurors were fussing over a stretcher carrying a much less animated patient. Remus caught a glimpse of bright pink hair and hurried over, feeling a giddy terror rising from his gut. Please, not her. Not her as well.

Nymphadora Tonks lay pale and unmoving, her robes torn and charred where Bellatrix’s curse had found its mark.

“Is she…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, not even sure what the final word was going to be.

One of the aurors standing over Nymphadora turned and gave him a dirty look. Lupin was momentarily nonplussed, then realised- of course, Tonks was one of theirs. In their minds, he had no right to be anywhere near her.

The healer raised her head and gave him a much more sympathetic look.

“I think she’ll pull through. We need to get her to St Mungo’s now, though. Stand aside please, gentlemen…”

Lupin backed obediently away as the healer primed her hospital-issue portkey to take Tonks directly to the help she needed. He kept walking, mostly because he didn’t feel comfortable around that group of aurors. They seemed the type to ask awkward questions if he stuck around.

Halfway across the atrium, Dumbledore waved him over. Remus was expecting an instruction, but instead Dumbledore asked;

“What did the healer say?”

Oh, he wanted to know about Tonks. Fair enough. “Uh- she’s taken her to St Mungo’s, but she should be okay.”

“Excellent.”

“Dumbledore, wh-” But Dumbledore was already walking away, heading for a group of worried looking officials near the shattered fountain. Remus let the question fade.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he started nervously.

“Sorry,” said Kingsley, “should have announced myself.”

“It’s fine.” Remus turned to face him, and Kingsley frowned.

“You’re bleeding.” He raised a hand to his neck and, mirroring the movement, Remus found that he was right. Not magically inflicted, though- Harry obviously needed to cut his nails.

“Just a scratch,” he told Kingsley, who nodded.

“You can go back to HQ if you like. I can make sure people here know what they need to know.”

“Well if you’re sure…”

“Yes. No sense in you hanging about like a loose thread at this time of night. Go and get some rest.”

“Right. Thanks,” Remus added, despite not feeling terribly thankful.

He apparated to the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place and let himself in to the dark hallway. He didn’t bother turning the light on, and crept past Mrs Black’s portrait by memory and feel.

Kreacher was under the dining-room table. Remus could hear him muttering cheerful nonsense to himself. Not being in the mood to listen to that, he headed for the stairs. He had made it almost to the first landing when he heard the crack of someone apparating close by, accompanied by the ear-splitting but short-lived protests of Mrs Black. As Remus paused, looking back, Dumbledore strode into view.

“Ah, Remus. Have you seen Kreacher?”

“Dining Room.” Remus pointed.

“Thank you.” Dumbledore turned on his heel and went to find the house-elf. Remus briefly considered following, but quickly decided that whatever was about to be said, he didn’t want to hear it. Besides, if Dumbledore had wanted him there, he would have said so. No, he wasn’t needed tonight.

He had intended to follow Kingsley’s advice and go to bed but somehow, his feet shuffling along without any conscious direction from his brain, he soon found himself staring at the door to Sirius’ room. Not really a surprise, he thought. He should have been more disciplined.

Still, since he was here…

The door opened to a gentle push, and he went in.

Sirius had left the bedclothes in a heap in the middle of the bed, giving the split-second impression that there was still a person lying there. The illusion was comforting, and Remus avoided looking directly at the bed, hoping to sustain it for a little longer.

He stared instead at the Gryffindor banners and muggle posters that covered the walls, permanent memoirs of a teenage boy’s desperate defiance of the world he had been born into. You could walk in here and almost believe time had stood still. Come to think of it, it had been a cage then, too. But Remus had felt safe here.

He sat down heavily on the bed and felt the tears start. It was always a surprise when that happened, even when he knew the situation fully merited a bit of a cry. But he never knew quite when or if his body would catch up to what he was feeling inside. Sirius used to make fun of their mutual inability to deal with their own emotions. Somehow, he could make traumatic childhoods seem like something to laugh about.

His fingers traced the depression Sirius had left in the mattress, searching in defiance of probability for some lingering warmth.

“It’s a good job I’ve got you, Moony,” Sirius had said. “You can read me like a book. Don’t know what you keep me around for, though. I’m only good for making jokes.”

Remus clutched one of Sirius’ pillows to his chest and sobbed until his eyes and throat were raw. Then, quite without meaning to, he fell asleep.

 

 

 

[Shamaël]

I love the beginning! I know the gift is not for me but it's great to be able to enjoy other Secret Santa's, not only the one we received... I love Remus (one of my favorite characters in HP) and the end of the 5th book is a great choice for a fic. Lots of wounds...

13 hours ago, RiversD said:

Sirius used to make fun of their mutual inability to deal with their own emotions. Somehow, he could make traumatic childhoods seem like something to laugh about.

Awwww my God. 

[Dusty15]

AAAHHHHH! You know I don't even care that it's sad as all hell because it's Lupin and therefore I expect sad. He's the perfect character for THE FEELS  

I particularly loved your descriptions of Harry's fighting response to Sirius disappearing through the veil and your description given by Kingsley of Remus 'hanging around like a loose thread'. You totally can feel that sense of limbo and a bit of shocked trauma as he's trying to figure out if he can be useful and what to do.

I'm loving this already (obviously!) and I am eagerly anticipating what is next! I feel so spoiled to have you as my SS! 

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

RIVER!!! GOD JUST END ME! My undying love for Lupin aside I physically squeale when I saw this last night because your stuff is always so good and LUPIN

19 hours ago, RiversD said:

His fingers traced the depression Sirius had left in the mattress, searching in defiance of probability for some lingering warmth.

“It’s a good job I’ve got you, Moony,” Sirius had said. “You can read me like a book. Don’t know what you keep me around for, though. I’m only good for making jokes.”

Remus hugged one of Sirius’ pillows to his chest and sobbed until his eyes and throat were raw. Then, quite without meaning to, he fell asleep.

 

Just take my heart...this entire sequence killed me. That imaginary of sad Lupin missing Sirius...mjdjfkfkgkf nope can't musnt cry XD. I know this is for Dusty but I just love it and can't wait for more

 

[camillapapen]

YES! I knew I would love this right from the set up, and because you wrote it. Harry Potter, Lupin (always one of my absolute favourites), angst... all the good things. Can't wait for more.

[AngelEyes]

On 12/17/2016 at 7:19 PM, RiversD said:

He had got Neville back on his feet at any rate, and said… gosh, he had said something, he dearly hoped it had been comforting… before someone had taken the lad off somewhere official. Damn it, wasn’t it better for these teenagers to have someone close by that they knew? He could… he could… he was kidding himself. The children were in perfectly good hands, and he knew it. His reasons for wanting to be with them were entirely selfish. He wanted to be busy, to be surrounded by people who needed him and problems he could fix. Otherwise he might soon find himself with nothing left to do but face the fact that a void had just opened up in his life- one made all the more painful because it occupied the same space as an older wound, too-recently healed.

You paint such a vivid picture of the dawning sense of loss, and the helplessness that you try to find anything to occupy yourself to get away from.

 

On 12/17/2016 at 7:19 PM, RiversD said:

Sirius used to make fun of their mutual inability to deal with their own emotions. Somehow, he could make traumatic childhoods seem like something to laugh about.

 

 

His fingers traced the depression Sirius had left in the mattress, searching in defiance of probability for some lingering warmth.

 

 

“It’s a good job I’ve got you, Moony,” Sirius had said. “You can read me like a book. Don’t know what you keep me around for, though. I’m only good for making jokes.”

Heartbreaking! But I love it!

[RiversD]

@Aliena H. Aw, thank you! Yeah, I felt like if I was going to make him miserable, this was probably the time to set it...

@Dusty15 I somehow only just saw your comment now? What gives, notes-bot? Anyhow... Thank you! I'm so glad I didn't read you wrong re: making him feel all the bad things. Also, thanks for picking out all the bits I was quite pleased with and giving them love. I'm very happy to be your Secret Santa!

@Kaze wo Hiku *rubs hands together* yes, excellent. Feel that pain. *chuckles evilly*

@camillapapen Wow, what's with all these people having faith in me? I'm very flattered, thank you.

@AngelEyes Hi, you're wonderful. I'm really glad that sense came across- I'm spending most of the writing process worrying about whether I'm making him too... gooey, I guess. That's the problem with writing characters under high stress, it's hard to be certain what 'in character' means in context.

A quick bit in the hope of speeding myself up...

Part II

Wednesday morning was thinly clouded, frills of water vapour blanketing the sky and turning Sirius’ bedroom walls orange-pink as they caught the first hopeful rays of the sun.

The changing light roused Remus, who slept by habit with the curtains closed. His body twinged and ached from its various minor injuries, flooding his half-conscious mind with instinctive terror. What time of the month was it? Had he- but no, he was clothed, and in bed, and the world smelt pleasantly of Sirius.

Sirius.

Memory struck like a hammer-blow, curling him in on himself so sharply that he jerked himself half-off the bed. He slithered awkwardly to his knees, face still pressed against the mattress in an attitude of anguished prayer. Oh, Sirius. You perfect fool.

He would have stayed longer, clinging on to the relative numbness of sleep and shock, but the shift in pressure against his ribs made him cough. Coughing prompted him to move, and once he was fully seated on the floor he was almost completely awake.

He ought to get out of here, he knew. Someone would be along soon to tidy everything up. Come to that, perhaps he ought to get out of here altogether. Out of this aching wound of a house, the memory of Sirius’ restless anger already curdling into a bitter shroud around it. A bit of solitude sounded good right now.

Perhaps that was the wolf speaking, prompting him to run off somewhere quiet to lick his wounds in peace. But after all, why not? He didn’t feel like dealing with people right now. And there was certainly no need to burden anyone else with his sorrows. Enough worries in the world already.

He had only felt able to stay here in the first place because… drat. Full moon was only four nights away- no, it must be three now. He needed to keep taking Wolfsbane, and that meant being somewhere Snape could reach him. He’d have to stay a little longer, get through this moon, and then work out what came next.

First, though… feet on floor, knees bent, up we go… He dragged his protesting body upright and staggered to the door.

 

He met Arthur Weasley on the landing, looking as though he had just got in from somewhere. He looked Remus’ slept-in clothes up and down and gave him a weary smile.

“Hullo, Remus. Made a night of it as well?”

“Something like that. Are you-”

“I’ve just popped back to get some overnight things for Molly. She wants to stay with the children, you know how it is…”

“Oh, of course. Arthur, I’m sorry.” Caught up in his own loss, he had half-forgotten the wounded. “How are Ron and Ginny?”

“Ginny had a broken ankle,” Arthur told him. “Painful, but nothing Poppy hasn’t seen a hundred times before.”

“Gosh, no. They must be ten-a-term.” Remus’ brain prompted him to bring up the story of how Sirius had broken his twice in two years, but he bit down hard on the memory before it could escape. He didn’t trust himself with that conversation. Fortunately(ish), Arthur had more to say.

“Ron’s a bit worse. Got attacked by one of the Mysteries, it sounds like.”

Remus winced. That couldn’t be good.

“Yikes. How bad is it?”

“Poppy’s confident he’ll recover well, which is helping Molly cope, I think. He’s fairly lucid, keeps alternating between feeling sorry for himself and worrying about Hermione, so I don’t think we need worry about personality change.” Arthur gave him a weak smile, quickly replaced by a frown of concern. “Hermione took a coriatus curse to the chest, poor girl. Dolohov’s work, I hear.”

Remus felt his own jaw tighten. “Add that to his account, then.”

“It’s getting to be an awfully long one,” said Arthur, grimly. “Poppy’s gone apoplectic.”

For a moment, Remus ventured to imagine the combined rage of Poppy Pomfrey and Molly Weasley on behalf of the children in their care. It was a vision to strike fear into the heart of any sensible man.

“I’ll let you get on, in that case,” he said.

“Thanks.” Arthur took a few steps past him, then paused. “Oh, and Remus?”

“Yes?”

Arthur suddenly looked deeply uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I know you and Sirius were both quite… private about these things, but if you do need, you know, to talk…”

“Thanks, Arthur. I appreciate it.” Remus walked back to his room in the certain knowledge that he wouldn’t be taking Arthur up on his offer. The man had far too much on his plate already.

[Shamaël]

1 hour ago, RiversD said:

Perhaps that was the wolf speaking, prompting him to run off somewhere quiet to lick his wounds in peace. But after all, why not? He didn’t feel like dealing with people right now. And there was certainly no need to burden anyone else with his sorrows. Enough worries in the world already.

Oh Remus... I feel so bad for you...

1 hour ago, RiversD said:

He’s fairly lucid, keeps alternating between feeling sorry for himself and worrying about Hermione, so I don’t think we need worry about personality change.

Mwahaha, I laughed at this. Yes, this is Ron all over!

2 hours ago, RiversD said:

“I’m sorry. I know you and Sirius were both quite… private about these things, but if you do need, you know, to talk…”

I have always loved Arthur, at the same time in the clouds, obsessed with Muggle-things and also very concerned by others and very thoughtful.

I love the way you describe the characters - and I love, love, love the fact that it could have happened this way just after the 5th book. As if your fic just filled a hole in the narration. And Remus... (sigh) is absolutely in character and I'd like to come and hug him... Thank you for this!

[RiversD]

1 hour ago, Aliena H. said:

Mwahaha, I laughed at this. Yes, this is Ron all over!

Thanks! This comment made me happy.

1 hour ago, Aliena H. said:

I have always loved Arthur, at the same time in the clouds, obsessed with Muggle-things and also very concerned by others and very thoughtful.

Same- I find he grows on me more and more as time goes by.

Thank you so much for commenting. I really appreciate it and It makes me happy to see how much you enjoy what I put out into the world.

In a marvel of efficiency, behold! Another update!

 

Part III

Once in his room, Remus let himself unstiffen slightly, and yawned. Everything ached now, and he didn’t feel much more with-it than when he had first woken up. Head full of fluff. He shook it, as if that had ever done any good, then went to inspect himself in the mirror.

It wasn’t an exercise he enjoyed at the best of times- a feeling Sirius had come to sympathise with lately. Remus wished he hadn’t.

This morning Remus was looking even more unkempt than usual. His hair stuck out at odd angles, and he had managed to smear blood from the cut on his neck almost to his right ear, where it had dried.

Reasoning that it was best to know the full picture, Remus pulled his robes over his head and stood shivering in front of the mirror in his boxers. It wasn’t actually cold in his room, and he was mildly annoyed with his body for reacting to such a minor temperature change. Still, tiredness could do that. He probably hadn’t got much proper rest from his sleep in Sirius’ room. That would make sense.

The familiar network of scars was reflected back to him, along with several newer but more minor additions. The skin had broken on his right shin, and there was something that looked very much like a bite mark on his left arm. Remus was immeasurably glad that that one hadn’t broken through the skin. Realistically, of course, contact with his blood wouldn’t do Harry any harm, but other people’s fear rubbed off on you after a while.

A number of bruises were beginning to make themselves felt if not seen, and there was an angry welt delineating a curve where Harry’s shoe had connected painfully with the lower edge of Remus’ ribcage. He still wasn’t certain what feat of contortion the boy must have pulled off to manage that one. The joint power of grief and rage, probably. He’d become a little numb to both over the years.

The shivery impulse that had run through him on taking his robes off seemed to have gone to ground in his nose, which was tingling. Apparently no part of his body wished to function without complaint, today.

He scrunched up his nose, hoping to ignore the feeling, but it built and forced him to twist away from the mirror to sneeze.

“huhh…eht’sshiew!”

…

Oh no.

A single sneeze was no proof of anything of course, but it planted the germ of suspicion in Remus’ mind that the sensation of being physically off-kilter today might not be entirely a product of his grief. And if so, could the timing be any worse?

“Please, not now,” he whispered to himself, as though voicing the plea would give it additional weight. He really couldn’t afford to be getting sick right now, not with the full moon so close and, well… everything else.

He sealed those cuts he could reach with his wand, though that patch on his shin would likely be tender for the rest of the day. The bruises could wait, he decided. He didn’t have many salves left- a definite lapse, a few years ago he would never have allowed himself to run low- and none he could use while he had Wolfsbane in his system.

In his defence, most bruises of any note tended to appear post-moon. He should do something about these over the next few days, though- his transformations had a nasty habit of making these kinds of injuries into bigger problems than they would usually be.

For now, though, he crawled into his own bed and slept, waking a little less muddled, if not actually refreshed.

The rest of the day passed in somewhat of a blur. His two-part sleep had shortened the morning considerably, and by the time he had caught up on Kingsley’s report on their new friends at the Ministry, most of the afternoon had gone. People were coming and going all day, most of them with some urgency, but none of them brought instructions for him beyond ‘could you see that so-and-so gets this?’ After a while it began to grate, and Remus withdrew back into his room with some papers. If he became wanted, they’d know where to find him.

Time settled into a brownish haze of parchment, photographs and occasional press cuttings. Remus was drowsing over a note on the potential usefulness of gargoyles when a knock at his door startled him back to alertness. He set the paper aside and went to open the door.

“Alright, Remus?”

It was Charlie Weasley, one hand sporting a fresh bandage, the other holding a goblet. It was smoking.

“Severus just dropped by with your potion. I told him I’d bring it up.”

“Is it that time already?” Remus was genuinely surprised. “Thank you, I hadn’t realised.”

“It’s been an odd day,” Charlie conceded. “I think dinner is more or less do-for-yourself tonight.”

“I’m sure we’ll cope.” Remus took the steaming goblet from his hand. “How are the family doing?”

“Not too bad, as far as I can tell. Dad didn’t think the whole clan needed to descend, so I haven’t been up to see Ron. I’m hoping if I give Mum some space to deal with his woes, my latest will have faded by the time she sees me next.” He waved the bandaged hand, and Remus smiled.

“Nothing poisonous, I hope?”

Charlie laughed. “No, this was a baby Ironbelly. My fault, which is one reason I’m hoping to avoid Mum.”

“That seems wise. Thank you, again.”

“No worries. I’ll be about if anyone needs me.”

Charlie nodded to him and headed back downstairs, uninjured hand in his pocket. Remus withdrew into his bedroom again and sat on the bed to drink his potion. It seemed even less palatable than usual, and he couldn’t manage it in a single draught.

He set the empty goblet on the dresser and stayed where he was for some time, thinking about the kitchen cupboards, and what was in them, and how easy it would be to walk downstairs right now and fix himself something simple to eat. He really ought to, he reasoned. If there was a chance he was getting ill, it would help to be well fed.

And yet, somehow, he didn’t seem able to get up. Well, no sense in forcing it. Resting here was probably almost as good.

He summoned a book from his shelf and tried to read for a while. Then he lay back and tried to get some sleep. Neither effort was entirely successful. Not only was his brain being unhelpful, his throat kept drying out, and he had to keep drinking to prevent it growing sore. What with the extra trips to the bathroom this necessitated, it was a marvel he got any real sleep at all….

 

[Dusty15]

4 hours ago, RiversD said:

A number of bruises were beginning to make themselves felt if not seen, and there was an angry welt delineating a curve where Harry’s shoe had connected painfully with the lower edge of Remus’ ribcage. He still wasn’t certain what feat of contortion the boy must have pulled off to manage that one. The joint power of grief and rage, probably. He’d become a little numb to both over the years.

Guhhhhhh this killed me. I don't often think about this part of the books and how Remus held Harry back despite Harry's best efforts, seeming so cool and calm while Harry raged. This is a lovely, sad version of that. 

4 hours ago, RiversD said:

He summoned a book from his shelf and tried to read for a while. Then he lay back and tried to get some sleep. Neither effort was entirely successful. Not only was his brain being unhelpful, his throat kept drying out, and he had to keep drinking to prevent it growing sore. What with the extra trips to the bathroom this necessitated, it was a marvel he got any real sleep at all….

STORY OF MY LIFE WHEN I'M SICK. Ugh....so relatable  I feel like people neglect this in fics, so I wanted to point it out in appreciation! That terrible cycle of "I can only breathe through my mouth and my throat hurts and everything is dry so I have to drink a ton of water" plus "I'm so tired I just want to rest" plus "now I have to drag myself out of bed to pee and refill my water glass". THE WORST! 

 

I'm feeling very spoiled by the length of this! I do love a good slow burn of the miserable lead up to a cold!  

[matilda3948]

Aww! I haven't read a Harry Potter story in ages and this has totally rekindled my love for poor Remus.  

I love Secret Santa--so many wonderful new things to read  

[ID2006]

Very nicely written. Looking forward to more.

[Shamaël]

OH REMUS Remus Remus!!! Poor thing...

23 hours ago, RiversD said:

Oh no.

A single sneeze was no proof of anything of course, but it planted the germ of suspicion in Remus’ mind that the sensation of being physically off-kilter today might not be entirely a product of his grief. And if so, could the timing be any worse?

I just died here. Positively died.

I love the wy you use the character's point of view to immerse us in his feelings and sensations, with lots of references to the books (Charlie, Wolfsbane, even the "potential usefulness of gargoyles") which make the whole story even more "believable" and complete.

6 hours ago, matilda3948 said:

I love Secret Santa--so many wonderful new things to read

Oh yes, this is the best idea ever. I don't know where it came from, but I'll be forever grateful towards the (wo)man who invented the concept...

[AngelEyes]

On 12/22/2016 at 6:03 PM, RiversD said:

He still wasn’t certain what feat of contortion the boy must have pulled off to manage that one. The joint power of grief and rage, probably. He’d become a little numb to both over the years.

 

 

 

This is heartbreaking.

[RiversD]

You guys are wonderful!

On 23/12/2016 at 4:19 AM, Dusty15 said:

I don't often think about this part of the books and how Remus held Harry back despite Harry's best efforts, seeming so cool and calm while Harry raged.

Me neither- I skimmed through the last sections of OOtP in prep for this and was like "oh. Well, I guess that's a thing that has to have consequences." Poor Remus.

On 23/12/2016 at 4:19 AM, Dusty15 said:

I feel like people neglect this in fics, so I wanted to point it out in appreciation!

Yay! I was really unsure of whether to include this bit, because I was all "this is definitely a thing that happens, but I don't know if it's a thing people want to read about..." so I'm glad you were good with it.

On 23/12/2016 at 4:19 AM, Dusty15 said:

I do love a good slow burn of the miserable lead up to a cold!

Possibly not so slow after this point. I got impatient. Plus, I tend to view Remus as the sort to make a very quick transition from "Don't fuss, it's just a sniffle, I'll be fine." to "Oh dear... I should probably... sit down." Like when his immune system finally surrenders it does so big-time.

 

On 23/12/2016 at 5:07 PM, matilda3948 said:

Aww! I haven't read a Harry Potter story in ages and this has totally rekindled my love for poor Remus.  

I love Secret Santa--so many wonderful new things to read  

Yay! Always happy to rekindle some good feelings!

 

On 23/12/2016 at 9:34 PM, ickydog2006 said:

Very nicely written. Looking forward to more.

Thanks! I'll do my best to keep it moving.

 

On 23/12/2016 at 11:27 PM, Aliena H. said:

OH REMUS Remus Remus!!! Poor thing...

*grin of writerly satisfaction* He's a very easy target, poor man... I'm so happy you're feeling immersed in this.

 

On 26/12/2016 at 6:13 AM, AngelEyes said:

This is heartbreaking.

Sorry about your heart. And thank you!

 

[RiversD]

Part IV

Remus dreamed that Sirius was holding him. Nothing special, just the two of them lying there in comfortable understanding, holding and being held.

Sirius’ hair brushed ticklishly against Remus’ nose. Remus squirmed, trying to escape it, but the tickling persisted, built…

“h’khshew!”

The dream wavered as he sneezed, and for a moment he felt cotton beneath his cheek before Sirius was back, his hand a warm weight in the small of Remus’ back.

“Cut y’r hair,” Remus muttered, squashing his nose against Sirius’ chest to try and rub away what remained of the… the…

“hh’sschheh!”

He was really starting to need a tissue now, the dream rippling and melting away as he tried ineffectually to sniff against the flow.

There was a moment of horrible confusion, then Remus sneezed again, finally defeating his own efforts to stay asleep.

“h’gssheuh!”

Remus rolled over and fumbled among the objects on his bedside table for a handkerchief. He found one in what felt like the nick of time and folded it over his dripping nose.

Before he could do anything else, the reflex seized him again and he pitched forward into the cloth.

“hh’sschheh! Merlin.”

Remus sat up and blew his nose firmly. This helped him to start breathing more normally, but had the additional effect of drawing to his attention the extreme tenderness of his throat. Someone appeared to have pushed a gorse bush down it overnight.

To complete the picture of discomfort, his head felt as though it were being squeezed from the temples and his whole body felt lumpen and slow. Prone to occasional morning sneezes though he might be, Remus could not pretend this was normal. He sank his head in his hands and groaned, cursing his luck. It was June, for goodness sake! True, there might have been something going round the regulars in the Hog’s Head, but most of them had perpetual coughs, and Remus hadn’t thought anything of it. Not that his body cared what he had thought, apparently. It just wasn’t fair.

It was along these lines that he sulked his way to lunch, which was a much more regimented affair now that Mrs Weasley was back in charge of the kitchen. She was following up her brief absence with a period of frenetic activity, and had managed to add so many frills to a soup-and-sandwiches lunch that it was hardly possible to see the table. Remus was relieved by the basic substance of the meal, however. The only times his throat was prepared to be less than horribly painful seemed to be when he was putting something down it, and the soup was soothing. It also made it easier not to spend the whole meal fighting off the need to cough, for which he was extremely grateful.

Fred and George had joined the usual crowd for lunch, as had Mad-eye, seeming hale and hearty despite the dressing still resting above his left ear.

“Dropped in to see Nymphadora this morning,” he told them.

“Oh?” Arthur set down his goblet and turned to face Moody. “Is she allowed visitors now, or did you get a special exemption?”

“They’ve moved her up to a recovery ward,” said Moody, “You can visit if you like.”

“Oh good. She’s doing better, then?” Arthur asked hopefully. Moody didn’t disappoint him.

“She’s awake and worrying about how much she missed, if that answers your question. She asked after you, by the way.” This last to Remus, who looked up from his bowl in mild surprise.

“Really? What for?”

“Wanted to know how you were. I told her you’d barely been scratched.”

Remus smiled. “Good. She shouldn’t be thinking of things like that right now.”

“That’s what I said.” Moody nodded to him. “Go and tell her that yourself, why don’t you?”

“Oh, I’ll see her in a few days, I imagine.” Remus caught Moody’s slight frown and elaborated, “I’m coming down with something at the moment. Don’t want to add to her troubles.”

“That so? Sensible man.” Moody dropped the subject and moved on to talk about the state of Azkaban, giving Remus the chance to muffle a pair of coughs into his sleeve and take a breath-steadying drink.

The conversation meandered about in its usual fashion, covering everything from current events in Europe to reminiscences of past teachers and comrades in the last war.

“Oh, Dumbledore sent an owl,” George announced when someone inevitably brought up recent events at the Ministry. “He says that Harry’s about as upset as you’d expect, but that he thinks he’s dealing with it pretty well.”

Molly snorted.

“How can he be, poor boy? After everything he’s been through- I’m amazed Dumbledore’s keeping him at school.”

“He probably wants to stay near Ron and Hermione.” Fred suggested.

“Well, why can’t I look after them as well?”

“Now, Molly, don’t let’s get upset,” Arthur cut in. “You know they’re in good hands with Poppy.”

Molly deflated a little. “Yes, I know. I wouldn’t have them anywhere else, not really. But still, to put Harry straight back into classes…”

Remus sighed. He was starting to get a real headache. “Hogwarts is a comforting environment for him.”

The assembled heads turned towards Remus, and he swallowed hard, having spoken without really thinking about a follow-up.

“Well, it is,” he insisted. “It’s a place with a certain routine, it’s somewhere he feels he’s among friends, and where he’s been very happy in the past. And moreover,” he added, seeing that Molly was about to interrupt him, “It’s not a place he associates first and foremost with Sirius. I wouldn’t ask him to live in this house for a while yet. The whole place will rub salt in his wounds.”

He coughed, the length of that speech having made his chest tighten uncomfortably. He could feel Arthur’s eyes on him and was conscious that he might have gone a little far at the close. Molly’s thoughts were all on Harry, though, and she took the point as it was offered.

“Oh, of course! You’re quite right, Remus, the poor boy. It would be awful, having to be reminded of Sirius everywhere he looked. It’s different for us, of course, but he must just think of this place as Sirius’ house…”

Remus made a non-specific noise of agreement as she rattled on, and bent over his soup again.

He did his best to get through the rest of the meal without incident, but could tell from the increasing feeling of pressure in his whole respiratory system that something was bound to give soon. His throat felt as though it were being squeezed in someone’s fist. This eventually forced him to drag his handkerchief from his pocket to cover a spluttering cough that set his throat twanging and precipitated an embarrassingly lengthy fit, which he did nothing to shorten with his attempts to suppress the violence of the individual coughs.

Finally, the dreadful cycle released him long enough for him to snatch back some control over his breathing. Remus wiped his mouth on the handkerchief and sat back, ears ringing.

“Excuse me.”

“You alright, mate?” That was Fred.

“Yes,” Remus wheezed. He took a quick drink, then continued more normally, “Something took me the wrong way, there, sorry.”

Try as he might, Remus found it difficult to pay attention to the rest of the table after that point, besieged by a hundred little aches and pains attacking from all directions. His body felt precariously balanced, as though any careless breath or movement could tip it into sneezing, coughing, or some other hopeless attempt to lessen the burden of sickness on his system. The conversations around him were slowly ceasing to make sense as words and becoming an irritating blur of noise that made him feel irrationally tense.

He bore it as long as he could, then pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Will you excuse me? I have one or two things I ought to be getting on with.”

To his relief, no-one questioned him. Only Mrs Weasley had anything to offer beyond a nod or grunt of approval.

“Do you want us to save you some cake, Remus dear?”

He shook his head, feeling as though the movement was causing his brain to slosh from side to side. “I’m off sugar at the moment. Thanks all the same, Molly.”

Something subtle shifted in her expression as his answer reminded her of who and what he was.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. You go ahead.”

Remus gave her a weak smile and left, knowing perfectly well it wasn’t the sugar she was sorry about.

[Dusty15]

10 hours ago, RiversD said:

Remus gave her a weak smile and left, knowing perfectly well it wasn’t the sugar she was sorry about.

AUGH. Stab my heart  haha

Beautiful descriptions of a totally brutal cold. It's sad but realistic-feeling that the others don't seem particularly concerned with how he's dealing with things (given his rather sturdy temperament) and focus on Harry and the others instead. I hope someone can give him a bit of love soon! 

[Shamaël]

Okay, the first 15 lines of this part were PERFECTION -the mix of dream and reality was amazing!

20 hours ago, RiversD said:

She asked after you, by the way.” This last to Remus, who looked up from his bowl in mild surprise.

“Really? What for?”

Oh Remus... Why can't you believe that someone could be pleased with your company, could love you?

20 hours ago, RiversD said:

The whole place will rub salt in his wounds.

So. True. Why is everyone thinking about Harry's welfare and is concerned about him, and no one takes care of Remus??? Yes, this is unfair.

20 hours ago, RiversD said:

“You alright, mate?” That was Fred.

I have always loved the twins, and especially Fred (in fact ALL my favorite characters in HP die), so thank you for that line!!!

Very good description of the symptoms, and, as usual, very good characterisation!!! Thank you for the update!

[AngelEyes]

Poor Remus.

[lilysneeze]

Remus will always tug at my heartstrings

[camillapapen]

Ohhh, I love love love this. The way you write about Remus kind of hurts my heart, in a good way.

[queenie]

*low keening whine*

[elizachoo]

I just got around to this and took all four parts at once. Excuse me now while I go try to find all the pieces of my shattered heart.

[RiversD]

*observes the pain in the comments* *smiles so widely my cheeks hurt*

On 28/12/2016 at 1:51 AM, Dusty15 said:

AUGH. Stab my heart  haha

Beautiful descriptions of a totally brutal cold. It's sad but realistic-feeling that the others don't seem particularly concerned with how he's dealing with things (given his rather sturdy temperament) and focus on Harry and the others instead. I hope someone can give him a bit of love soon! 

That bit was something of a last minute addition. I'm glad I left it in, now. *muahahahaa....*

I'm also glad you're happy with the illness descriptions so far (I may accelerate them at an abnormal speed from this point, but try and chalk it up to Remus having weird werewolf body chemistry and a pathetic immune system).

I know. I feel bad having the others more or less ignore his suffering, but I also feel like this would be an abnormally busy time, especially for any order members who worked at the Ministry or Hogwarts. Plus, I imagine Remus usually hides when he's in physical or mental distress because he's not used to having people around he can trust/is prepared to burden with his problems, and when people are busy/distressed themselves they tend to fall into the habit of leaving him to it and trusting him to be sensible.

On 28/12/2016 at 11:08 AM, Aliena H. said:

Okay, the first 15 lines of this part were PERFECTION -the mix of dream and reality was amazing!

Thank you! I was scared it was going to go all cliché on me.

On 28/12/2016 at 11:08 AM, Aliena H. said:

Oh Remus... Why can't you believe that someone could be pleased with your company, could love you?

So. True. Why is everyone thinking about Harry's welfare and is concerned about him, and no one takes care of Remus??? Yes, this is unfair.

He's a silly boy, that's why. I think some people are more-or-less aware that Remus must be hurting, they just don't know how to get him to admit it/what kind of help to offer.

I tend to see Molly as someone who cares in a very focussed way, especially where children are concerned, so she might occasionally miss cues when she's full-flow and accidentally be insensitive. I also get the impression that she was pretty disapproving of a lot of Sirius' attitudes/choices, and I think that means she didn't get to see much of the relationship he had with Remus, just because she was focussed on other things and Sirius tended to go a bit sulky-teenager around her.

But anyway, you're right, it is unfair. I just wanted him to be miserable, I'm sorry.

On 31/12/2016 at 4:54 AM, AngelEyes said:

Poor Remus.

It's the pattern of his life, I'm afraid...

On 01/01/2017 at 10:40 PM, lilysneeze said:

Remus will always tug at my heartstrings

He's so easy to love... but then you have to hurt for his pain. Give the man a break, JK.

On 04/01/2017 at 9:25 AM, camillapapen said:

Ohhh, I love love love this. The way you write about Remus kind of hurts my heart, in a good way.

Heart-hurting in a sorta-good way is what I strive for. Thank you so much!

21 hours ago, queenie said:

*low keening whine*

*offers gentle cuddles* I'm sorry. There's a lot of pain in this one.

21 hours ago, elizachoo said:

I just got around to this and took all four parts at once. Excuse me now while I go try to find all the pieces of my shattered heart.

As a person, I'm sorry about your heart! As a writer, I'm delighted this made you feel something. Thank you so much for letting me know that!

[RiversD]

Anyway, Part 5! AKA The Chapter That Fought Me. Took about 3000 words to wrestle the dang plot-line into place. Honestly, my brain is dead.

A note to Americans and others from non- meat pie consuming nations: when I, towards the end of this chapter, describe a pie containing meat and gravy, I am envisioning something along these lines, not... anything else you may have just imagined.

Many thanks to @Aliena H. for helping me fix my French!

 

Part V

Remus made his way shakily back to his room, where he sat down heavily on the bed and coughed, not bothering to restrain the reaction now he was alone. He sat in relative stillness, cherishing the peace, until his nose started to prickle again.

He retrieved his handkerchief while the feeling was still in its infancy and spread it between his hands, the cotton freshly clean and soft again. He had invested in a pair of self-cleaning handkerchiefs a few years ago, and never yet had cause to regret it.

He waited with his eyes closed as the distant itch advanced to fill his immediate universe. He breathed slowly, trying to be patient with his body as the tickle teased him. His eyes were watering by the time his lungs caught on to what was required of them and his breath warped into the shaky preamble to a potent sneeze.

“hhh…GH'SSCH’heue!”

He buried it in his handkerchief and followed it up with a gurgling blow.  Then he toppled slowly sideways onto his pillow, weighed down by his leaden head, and lay still, soaking up the temporary relief that came from no longer having to bear his own weight.

He fully intended to get up in a minute or two, but since he was feeling slightly chilly, he tugged the blanket over his legs anyway. His body seemed to be growing heavier still, the bed all the more welcoming. He felt as though he was sinking further into it by the second.

 

 

The next thing Remus was really conscious of was rolling over and being yanked back to wakefulness as the sore on his ribs pulled painfully. He moaned, discovering in the process that one nostril was clogged beyond all hope of redemption, and curled into a loose foetal position around the pain. That is, until an ominous trickling sensation in the other nostril prompted him to scrabble for a handkerchief again.

He realised that he had been lying on it at approximately the same moment that the creeping wetness in his nose caused him to loose a spraying sneeze across the bedclothes.

“h-hh-itssschuh! eh-heh…”

The handkerchief caught most of the next sneeze and all of the third as Remus spasmed helplessly, his chest and sinuses groaning against this rude awakening.

“chsssch! ah-chsssht! huh’hh-essschhue!”

Gasping, he pressed the handkerchief tighter around his leaking nose and struggled to build enough breath to blow it clear.

He wasn’t at all sure that sleep had done him any good. He felt as though his head was slowly being pumped full of glue. Still, he pulled himself off the bed and as far as the bathroom, where he immediately regretted not keeping the blanket with him.

Shivering, he ran the shower until the water was good and hot, then stripped down and got in. Within a short while he was feeling much more comfortable, as long as he kept all his limbs within the stream, otherwise he got a fresh case of goose-pimples.

Remus huddled under the spray, trying to breathe as deeply as he could in the steam-filled air. He knew this cold would get its claws into his chest soon- they always did, and he could feel weight settling in his lungs already- but he wasn’t about to encourage it. He was determined to get as much benefit from the steam as he could before the heat made him too light-headed.

It didn’t take long for this to precipitate a few shaky coughs, and then a series of more substantial ones, forcing him to brace one arm briefly against the wall to keep his balance. His nose had become free-flowing again and he wiped the excess away with his flannel, trying not to actually inhale water in the process. Some people might put themselves through that deliberately, but it very much wasn’t for him.

The water tingled and stung at the injuries he either hadn’t had time for or hadn’t noticed yesterday. Apparently there was a scrape on the back of his thigh, but it didn’t feel too bad. Remus traced the still-raised weal on his ribs with a careful finger. It was still sensitive, and starting to darken. He really ought to do something about that before the moon. He would, just as soon as…as…

Remus’ nose interrupted his thought with a thorn of irritation so sudden and intense that his body was reacting to it before his mind had even registered the sensation.

“hah-aisSSCHEW!”

The sneeze bent Remus almost double, his nose doing its level best to oust the source of its torment in a single blast. This wasn’t a simple irritant, however, and the unusually powerful effort had something of a reverse effect.

“hh…ohmyh’iesssch! hh’esschheh! ‘esscheuh! hh’sschheh!” Remus didn’t even try to cover the spray, settling for finding a solid surface to lean on while the rest of his body did what it apparently needed to do with extreme urgency.

“ah..heh! hei’sschheuh! Isscheuh! euh…hh’tssSCH’ew! ohh…”

Remus reeled against the shower wall, panting for breath. It felt as though the floor was spinning beneath his feet, and he had no idea what direction he was facing any more.

Well. That was one way to shift a bit of congestion, he supposed. Not necessarily the one he would have chosen, but it seemed to be over now.

He slowly recovered his sense of balance and finished his shower. He felt a bit more human afterwards- being able to breathe again often had that effect- and decided he ought to use what remained of the afternoon to run a few errands. After all, there was no way of knowing what he’d feel up to tomorrow. His colds had an unpleasant habit of turning very nasty very fast, and there was nothing he could do about it when they did but wait it out.

He made the journey down to Diagon Alley at a fairly sedate pace, aware that his reserves of energy were probably at a lower ebb than was usual. There, he attended to some minor business regarding his Gringotts account, collected a book he had dropped in for re-binding at Flourish and Blotts, then did a little bit of shopping.

He purchased small gifts for each of the children who had gone with Harry to the Ministry, then sat in the Leaky Cauldron for a while writing little notes to go with them. He spent more time than he had meant to over these letters. A returning fondness for each child he had got to know in his short time at Hogwarts meant that he lingered over them, trying to write something that was suited to them individually. Then he parceled everything up, addressed them neatly, and headed for the Owl Post Office.

The painful pang delivered by the direct sunlight in Diagon Alley made him acutely aware of the headache that had been creeping over him as he wrote, and he paused for a moment to re-adjust. He took a few deep breaths with his eyes closed, then carried on. He was almost finished, after all.

 

 

The Post Office was an overwhelming experience for Remus at the best of times, and he hadn’t used it in a while. Ordinarily, he would have borrowed Sirius’ black owl, but that really hadn’t seemed appropriate on this occasion. Besides, that bird had a prickly temper and a sharp beak. Remus wasn’t keen to know how she was responding to the recent changes to her routine.

Knowing that didn’t make his current experience any less unpleasant. The constant flutter of owls in his peripheral vision- no matter which way he faced- always set a flighty current of panic running down his spine. This close to the moon it was accompanied by the gut-clenching feeling that some half-buried part of himself saw every flicker of feathery movement as a signal to pounce and… but he had himself well trained not to think about those things.

What he couldn’t block out, however, was the smell. The impending moon always made his nose more sensitive, and this cold hadn’t managed to counteract that yet. Bird feed, soiled straw, and plentiful guano made for a potent mix, and Remus was thankful for the lack of queueing time as he deposited his parcels on the counter and scrambled to retrieve his handkerchief.

“Sorry, just ah-hss’cht!”

He regretted his decision to stifle the sneeze almost as soon as he’d made it, the repressed force triggering small explosions along the length of his sinuses.

The post-wizard eyed him dispassionately.

“Smell getting to you?”

“Yes. Sorry, I- ht’ssch! ‘tsscheuh!” He was less vicious in his attempts to subdue those sneezes, but the effort still made his eyes water. “Excuse me.”

“It’s no bother.” The wizard checked over the addressed on Remus’ parcels, talking as he did so. “Takes a lot of folks that way. ‘Course, I don’t even notice it by now. You paying postage for these?”

“Yes.” Remus pulled out his wallet and began counting out money as the parcels were weighed.

“Mind you, I had a second cousin once,” the wizard continued. “Might have been third, actually. On my mother’s side, at any rate. Allergic to feathers, poor woman. That’s a cruel burden for any witch to bear, it really is.”

“I imagine so,” Remus agreed. He could feel his nose starting to run again, egged on by the acrid cocktail of owl-related smells. He sniffed it back, he hoped with some degree of subtlety.

“Communicated by Niffler come the end, poor soul… Right, that’ll be two sickles, four knuts, thanks.”

Remus paid, knowing that the mysteries of Niffler-based communication would haunt his thoughts for some considerable time, but not willing to stay here for the time it would take to extract the relevant details. It felt as though the lining of his nose was actually starting to dissolve.

Outside, he ducked into the gap between the Post Office and Eeylops, put his back to the wall and tugged out his handkerchief again. The offended watering of his eyes was starting to have a detrimental effect on his ability to keep his nose under control.

He started to blow his nose, but it decided to escalate matters halfway through, resulting in a throaty sneeze that scraped its way through his sensitive airways. Nose and throat burning, he coughed and spluttered his way to a moment of trembling respite, tears running down onto his fingertips as he held the handkerchief in place.

Taking advantage of the pause, Remus sorted himself out, feeling very grateful as he did so to whoever had come up with the self-cleaning charm on his handkerchief. He had forgotten quite how bad the Post Office could be. He had better get used to making his own postal arrangements again, though- he had been spoiled lately, but he should have known it couldn’t last forever.

He headed home, feeling his illness press down on him more and more as he walked. It felt as though someone had slipped loose weights into his chest, and by the time he reached Grimmauld Place he had taken to just keeping his handkerchief in his hand, he was requiring it so often.

Remus nodded a weary greeting to a freshly-arrived Bill Weasley as he crossed the hall, then crept upstairs to his room and collapsed full-length on the bed, exhausted.

 

 

Remus would gladly have lain there indefinitely, but he had dozed for barely half an hour before someone knocked at his door, calling, “Dinner in five minutes alright, Remus?”

“Mmf? Yes, yes, fine. Be right down.”

He rolled himself off the bed and upright, then spent most of his five minute’s grace in the bathroom, trying to pull himself into a fit state for company. He wasn’t entirely happy with the results, but he decided it would do.

He grew slightly less confident when he realised that Bill had brought Fleur Delacour to dinner. Fleur was the newest member of the Order of the Phoenix, and Remus hadn’t worked out quite where he stood with her yet. She could be difficult to have a casual conversation with, for one thing. Part of that was her Veela ancestry, of course- it wasn’t something she could help, but she always gave off a sense of effortless composure, which often made those around her feel untidy and clumsy by comparison. Usually Remus would exchange a certain mutual support with Tonks, who had a tendency to go all to pieces around Fleur, but she wasn’t about. He was surprised at how much he missed her company after only a few days. Probably that was his worry about her injuries manifesting itself. He wasn’t great at reading his own emotional landscape. He needed Sirius for that. Or James.

He took a seat at one corner of the table, next to Arthur, who greeted him with a slightly worried smile.

“Hello, Remus. Not feeling any better?”

Remus didn’t bother denying it. He was among friends, after all.

“Worse, I’m afraid. Looks like it’s settling in for a while.”

“Bad luck.” Arthur gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm as he sat and let the subject drop, which Remus appreciated.

Fred and George helped Molly bring in the meal- manually, in deference to their mother’s uncertain temper at present. She had prepared two large and golden-crusted pies, which only looked better once she broached them to reveal the thick, meaty gravy inside.

It was delicious, enough to make Remus wish he had a better appetite. He was sure the food was doing him good, but the very act of eating seemed much more arduous that normal. He was feeling more tired by the mouthful.

Breathing was giving him increasing levels of trouble as well. His nose didn’t feel blocked so much as it did horribly constricted, so that he was having to drag air in that ordinarily would have flowed quite happily into his lungs.

The heavy ache in his sinuses was increasing, too. He pressed two fingers into the well separating nose and eye in hopes of discreetly easing some of the pressure. All that did, though, was make his nose ache in a distinctly sneeze-inviting way, so he left off.

Unfortunately that back-of-the-nose buzz, once awoken, was reluctant to settle down, and seemed to be irritated by breathing in, which was inconvenient. The feeling niggled away at him, awakening a mild itch in his throat which rather hampered his enjoyment of the meal.

Despite this, Remus managed to get away with only a few soft throat clearances, and was almost at the point of relaxing when the annoyance at the back of his nose peaked abruptly, sending a wave of ticklishness flooding through his nose.

Even as he pulled his handkerchief from his robes, Remus made a token effort to fight off the impending sneeze for a little longer. However, it soon became clear that his nose was in no mood to be placated by any of his usual tricks, and he resigned himself, turning his back on the table and burying his nose in the waiting cloth.

“ha’tzzSCHhew!”

Whew. Remus was surprised at how relieving it was to sneeze. Assorted parts of his inflamed airways very quickly spoiled it with a whole array of objections, but that empty moment immediately post-sneeze was bliss.

Probably getting a bit light-headed, there. Wouldn’t be surprising, at this point.

“Bless you,” Bill called down the table.

“A vos souhaits,” Fleur agreed. “Vous avez pris froid?”

Remus nodded wearily. He needed to blow his nose, but settled for a quick wipe in deference to the assembled company.

“I’m afraid so. Excuse me.”

He swivelled slowly back to face his plate, breathing carefully. Around him, assorted conversations started back up again. He was slightly surprised, then, to find Arthur still watching him. He looked as though he were waiting for an appropriate time to speak. Remus dabbed a stray bit of moisture from the edge of one nostril, then asked;

“What is it?”

“I went to see Tonks today,” Arthur told him. He was speaking as though this was something that only concerned the two of them, which was odd. Yesterday Tonks’ well-being was a matter for the whole table to discuss. Remus didn’t have the mental energy to question it, though.

“Oh? Good. How is she?”

“Pretty well, all things considered.” Arthur paused, then added, with an air of having been working up to it: “She’s fretting a bit, to be honest with you. She wants to see you.”

“What? Why?”

Arthur frowned at him. Remus might have been able to interpret his expression better had his head been less fugged up with cold. As it was, all he could tell was that that seemed to have been the wrong question to ask.

“I think she’s concerned for how you’re coping after the fight at the Ministry.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Remus sniffed. “Why on earth would she be worrying…”

“Because she cares about you, Remus, don’t be an idiot!”

The sentence was delivered with uncharacteristic force for Arthur, and Fred and George turned to look, perhaps recognising a tone they had been recipients of on occasion. They seemed to register that this was a private conversation, though, and in any case were quickly distracted by a fight over who would get the bits of pie that had stuck to the edge of the dish.

Arthur deflated and continued in a much more conciliatory manner. “She cares about you, and I think that right now she sees you as another person with a strong connection to Sirius. Not all of us are blind, she’s got a fair idea what he meant to you, and she’s just lost her cousin.”

Remus felt as though his throat had suddenly become a lot tighter than it had been a few moments ago. He didn’t bother to address ‘not all of us are blind’. It wasn’t as though he’d ever really thought of it as a secret.

“I’m not sure how much I can say that…”

“You probably won’t have to.” Arthur sighed. “Look, she’s been stuck in St Mungo’s with Mad-Eye’s report on the battle going round in her head for two days, and you know what his reports are like. She’s… well, she’s frantic to know you’re alright. I really do think you ought to go, Remus.”

“I’m still not well,” Remus reminded him, a tad unnecessarily. Arthur waved his objection away.

“The ward she’s in has sterilisation charms all over it. You’d have to try something pretty drastic to infect her with anything mundane. And I think she’ll be much better off once she’s seen you for herself.”

Arthur was giving him a look that brooked no argument. Remus caved.

“Alright, I’ll go down and see her tomorrow. Promise.”

Arthur gave him an approving smile, then turned away to pass Kingsley the potatoes.