HERMIONE'S HELP

Summary: Sirius Black has just came down with a case of tonsillitis. Bedridden, Sirius is taken care of by none other than Hermione Granger. [SBxHG. Set during OOTP]

Disclaimer: I have no rights over Harry Potter. All of that stuff belongs to the author.

AN: I came down with tonsillitis, and it's only just went away recently. I got through it with a bunch of SBxHG fics (and HP ff in general) along with unhealthy amounts of ice cream. Kind of linked the two together. Oh, by the way – hi! I'm a reader on this site, but I've been writing for ages. Like, literally ages. To me, anyway. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm really sorry for mistakes!

It was all rather unexpected. At first, he was simply enjoying a glass of Firewhisky, his roar of laughter spreading throughout the vast expanse of 12 Grimmauld Place, while his best friend Remus permitted himself to only let small chortles of humour fall from tired lips, both genuinely quite content with each other's company and everyone else's. It was the Christmas holidays. Arthur was doing better, Harry had finally stopped isolating himself – thanks to Hermione – and Sirius was intent on raising everyone's spirits. This was his first Christmas in a long, long time spent with those he really loved and nothing could ruin his glee at that very moment.

Except for when he felt a sudden, and very strange burn right at the back of his throat when he swallowed some more of his drink. Seeing the sudden cheer disappear from his face, Remus looked concerned. "Something wrong?"

"No, Moony," Sirius replied, an ersatz smile on his face as he swallowed some of his own tasteless saliva and felt that same burn again; only this time stronger with a harsher choke feel. Playing it off as something that didn't require so much attention, he began telling one of his anecdotes once again, sparking the interest of many others in the room except Hermione, who sat at the end of the table with a mug of hot chocolate in one hand, and a tatty copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream in the other.

"Could you imagine the look on my face when she told me she was actually ma-" Sirius' speech was cut off by an unexpected round of chesty coughs spewing from his own mouth... And this finally caught Hermione's attention. Tilting her head (her bushy hair moving first), she looked at Sirius with an unreadable expression, then smirked to herself when she observed him swallow – but with great difficulty.

He was fussed over for a few minutes, complaining dramatically about how painful it was to swallow and then accusing one of the younger ones in the room of throwing a hex at him for no apparent reason. Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up, clearing her throat.

"It appears that he's got tonsillitis," she announced, nodding her head. Her hair bounced in agreement with her certainty and statement, and Sirius looked appalled.

"Tonsillitis?" he repeated, "I'm sure I've heard that somewhere…" But he hadn't, in fact. It was a muggle diagnosis, and as she walked over and threw his head back, asking for him to 'open wide', Sirius had absolutely no clue as to what was going on.

"Oh, just open your mouth Sirius," she groaned, when he looked at her in alarm. And sure enough, his tonsils had swelled in size, blood red, his uvula starting to bloat to an extent as well. "No wonder," she said to herself, and while everyone watched with some sort of bemusement, Hermione grabbed the Firewhisky and his glass. "None of that, I don't think!"

"Wait, give that—"

"Absolutely not! My parents are dentists, and though this isn't exactly a dental issue, it's still something that's been brought up in their workplace… so I know…"

"Is he going to be okay?" Someone asked in the room. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"It's not as if it's a life threatening issue! Of course he'll be fine. He just needs a lot of rest, a lot of fluids and a lot of—"

"Attention?" Sirius asked.

"Oh please," she responded, putting the glass and bottle down now that there was distance between Sirius and the objects. "I wouldn't go that far. You'll be fine, but it may get worse. It doesn't seem as though you have those spots on your tonsils, so I'm going to take a guess and say that it's caused by a viral infection."

Almost everyone in the room looked at Hermione as though she was speaking in a completely different language, but it wasn't necessarily unlike her to spurt various amounts of knowledge like that given the chance to do so. Thus, Sirius was ushered to bed, told to lay down and start drinking water as it were Firewhisky – seeing as though the bloody man had a glass of it so often during the day. Sirius was reluctant to do so, but managed to behave enough for Hermione to instruct him on what to do. Every so often, she'd come in with something new to give some relief to his throat, even going so far to give some muggle pills.

"It's called Ibuprofen, Sirius, and it won't kill you!" She exclaimed, exasperated. He was refusing to cooperate with her, now that it was his second day of having tonsillitis and it had just gotten worse. His head automatically tilted to one side when he attempted to swallow, he was getting a fever, and he had a constant headache… Godric, everything was going horribly for him.

"I don't want your fucking pills!" Sirius shouted, though in a hoarse voice, and slapped her hand away making the pills fall from her hold. She looked at him in shock, then at her hand, then at him again. She'd had tonsillitis many times too, so understood… but this anger? Well, she was rather bossy… but still! The sheer nerve of the grown man! And her hand actually kind of hurt, too!

"Suit. Your. Self!" Hermione growled and pulled a face of pique as she stood up from where she sat next to his laying body, storming out and passing the ever unpleasant Kreacher who immediately began grumbling under his breath about what his 'poor mistress would say' in regards of Hermione's presence.

"Put a sock in it," she groaned, quickly getting an enraged 'Mudblood' remark back. She sighed and went to the kitchen to grab a drink, finding none other than Mrs. Weasley there. Attempting to appear normal, and not hurt at all, she approached the older woman. "Need any help?"

"Oh, Hermione dear!" Molly said, spinning around with a dish rag in one hand. The plump woman had rosy cheeks, a wide smile, and her red hair very much mirroring the colour of the shoes she decided to wear that day. "Don't be silly, dear, of course not! Why don't you go up, Ginny's there with the boys and may be in need your company instead? Is Sirius feeling better?"

"Absolutely… fine," she mumbled through gritted teeth. Stupid Sirius. He was acting like such a silly boy! This thought was running through her head as she indeed went upstairs to go find Ginny in Ron and Harry's room, talking about Umbridge and how horrible she was so far. Immersing herself in the conversation too, all was forgotten about Sirius' needless slap to her hand – which was now forming a light bruise, but a bruise nonetheless.

It was two days later when Remus approached Hermione, breathless and looking tired more than usual. "Help. Now."

"Yes?" Hermione asked with some concern, placing a hand on her ex professor's shoulder.

"It's Sirius," Remus said.

Hermione made a 'hmph' noise.

"It's gotten worse, Hermione. Could you at least tell me what to do?"

Feeling bad already, Hermione sighed and said she'd go, doing exactly that and walking to Sirius' room. He was there, starting to go pale, holding his forehead and breathing unevenly. "Sirius?" Hermione asked with caution. He seemed to jump just slightly as she approached him, but nevertheless managed to say 'come in, come in'.

"Look, I'm sorry about the—"

"You shouldn't be speaking when you have tonsillitis, you know. Hermione gripped his jaw, forcing his lips apart. He eventually complied and she saw how his tonsils had enlarged once again, now really starting to close his throat up. She didn't say a word as she went down to fetch some things from the kitchen, and when she was back, he was sitting upright, ready to work with her and not make a scene. He knew he'd hurt her feelings the other day, and she wouldn't allow him to apologise all the same. Regardless of that, he still wanted to show he was sorry. Hermione had a glass of fresh water in her hand, some honey and also a lemon. Even though he wanted to ask what the hell she was doing, he kept quiet (mostly due to the fact that his throat was on fire) and accepted the glass she'd handed to him when she was finished making what seemed like an awkward mixture of things.

It brought some relief to his throat, and he smiled at her after having sipped down half of the contents. She nodded back, clearing her throat.

"To cool your throat down, you'll want to stick to foods such as ice cream and yogurts as well. Solid foods will scratch against your throat whereas the softer ones will simply… slip down your throat. Soups aren't a bad option either, but at a warm temperature. I'm sure Mrs. Weasley will be able to provide you with all of that. I'd advise you to take the pills that you so rudely slapped out of my hand the other day, but never mind that..." Hermione still glared at him as she said this, to which he did appear to be genuinely sorry.

Only after he finished the water mixed with honey and lemon did Sirius notice a yellowy bruise on Hermione's hand, with purple edging and slightly greener tones in some parts. "I didn't do that, did I?" Sirius asked, reaching to take her hand.

She shifted uncomfortably.

Sirius asked again.

"Well," Hermione sounded, not really wanting to make him feel bad even though she was still angry about it. "Yes, you kind of did… but it's okay."

He grunted, an animalistic noise deep from his throat let out and she was just a little frightened but he swore under his breath and rubbed his thumb over the bruise many times (softly) as if that would make it go away.

Of course it didn't, he said sorry, she said it was fine, and they left it there.

Three days later, Sirius was relieved of tonsillitis, could finally eat again and was back to good health – all thanks to Hermione. Eventually, in the short time before he was tonsillitis-free, Sirius started to take the pills with her guidance as to when and how many, and his throat was finally accepting of harsher liquids such as his burning lover, Firewhisky. Christmas day had arrived, and it couldn't have been a more joyous occasion, until that very night something most peculiar had happened.

Hermione's throat had begun closing up.

It was now Sirius' chance to smirk.

Well, err… that's that, I guess! I hope you liked it, even if only a little bit. Please go ahead if you're one of those nasty pasty reviewers that think 'constructive criticism' is 'destructive' in terms of destroying a young writer's dreams, hopes and—ha, I'm kidding. No but leave reviews if you have the time to, I'd love to get any feedback. Yah. I'm out. Thanks for stopping by!