Alright, just on a short note: I think that temperatures in Great Britain are given in °F. Correct me if I'm wrong there, but now all the temperatures in this chapter are given in °F. I'm not used to this, we in Germany use °C, so every temperature you find in this chapter is calculated from °C into °F. If they look weird to you, blame my dictionary which told me the formula for the calculation.

The Dragonpox Disaster

As soon as the two wizards had arrived back in Remus' house in Kent, Sirius carried the still unconscious Harry up the stairs and into the spare bedroom which he had occupied for the past year. Remus let Harry's trunk drop to the floor and opened Hedwig's cage so that the owl could fly outside through the open window, then he immediately hurried over into the living room and lit a fire in the fireplace. It was of no use to call for Madam Pomfrey right now, Remus had heard her tell about the visit at her daughter's she had planned for this summer. The school nurse was somewhere in Austria right now and not at Hogwarts. But Remus knew somebody who was at least as qualified as Madam Pomfrey when it came to treating sick teenagers, and a minute later Dr. Stuart Mitchell, an old friend of Remus' father, was on his way to Remus' house.

That done, Remus sent a quick note to Albus Dumbledore in which he told the headmaster that it had been him and Sirius who had taken Harry out of Privet Drive – he guessed that the moment Harry had left the protective wards around his relatives' house a million alarms had gone off in Dumbledore's office – and asked the older wizard to drop by and have a look at the situation himself.

Just as Rasputin had flown off, there was a knock on the door and Remus hurried into the hall to let the doctor in.

Stuart Mitchell was an extremely small man, though not as small as Filius Flitwick, but he had never gotten bigger than the average ten year old boy. His greying hair had a slight tinge of blue in it, and from a narrow but friendly face that spread around an extremely large and crooked nose a pair of extraordinarily dark blue eyes watched Remus attentively. A smile spread across the older wizard's face when Remus opened the door.

"Remus, good to see you, it's been quite some time. Though you don't look as if you're in need of my help."

"Dr. Mitchell, thank you for coming so quickly. It's not about me, it's about...a houseguest of mine."

He gestured the small man into the house and mentioned to go upstairs.

"Who?"

Well, the doctor had to see Harry anyway, so Remus could as well spill the beans right there and then.

"Harry Potter."

The only reaction this provoked was a small grunt, but after a short moment curiosity got the better of Mitchell.

"I didn't know that Harry Potter was living with you, Remus."
"He's my best friend's godson."

That still didn't really answer the question, but at the moment no further questions about the reason why Harry was here were posed.

"What has he got?"

"Awfully high fever, and I'd say it's not been treated in any way for the past days. And he's covered in pustules. I know I'm not really competent to judge it, but to me it looks a lot like Dragonpox."

Mitchell paused for a moment on the stairs.

"How old is he?"
"Sixteen in two weeks."

When the small man resumed walking, his steps were noticeably faster and had a certain urgency in them.

"Then let's better hope you're wrong, Remus. Dragonpox at the age of sixteen...that's not something that should be taken lightly."

"I know, that's why I called you immediately."

They reached the upper floor of Remus' small cottage and Remus showed Dr. Mitchell to the spare bedroom which Sirius usually occupied. Only yesterday, Sirius had done what he had called a 'thorough cleansing action', and thankfully that meant that at least the floor and bed in his room had been cleared from all dirty clothes and other indefinable stuff that had been lying there ever since Sirius had moved in. Remus also knew that it would be hazardous to open the wardrobe after Sirius' attempt to tidy up, but at the moment this was the smallest of their problems.

Sirius had deposited the feverish and unconscious teenager on the bed and was sitting on the mattress next to Harry, trying to cool down his fever with a wet cloth on the forehead. He didn't hear them coming into the room, but when Dr. Mitchell stepped next to the bed he turned around towards Remus, a questioning eyebrow raised. Remus didn't say anything, he just nodded assurance at Sirius. Surely his old friend had expected Madam Pomfrey to come bursting into the room, but he could always explain later.

Meanwhile, Dr. Mitchell had his wand out and waved it over Harry's body, a deep frown etched into his face.

"How long has he been like this?"
Remus stepped closer and shrugged.

"We don't really know. We've not been in contact with him for about three weeks, since he returned from Hogwarts, and when we went to check up on him this afternoon we found him like that. His relatives weren't very informative, but I guess he has been sick for a couple of days now."

"What did they treat him with?"
Sirius growled lowly and took one of Harry's hands into his.

"Nothing. They put him into quarantine in his bedroom." The tone of his voice indicated well enough what Sirius thought of the way the Dursleys had treated Harry, and though Remus full-heartedly agreed with Sirius' hard feelings towards them, he also knew that at the moment his old friend was ready to rip their throats out for what they had done. And it was better to distract him from that murderous mood before it got the upper hand of him.

Meanwhile, Dr. Mitchell had stopped his examination and was rummaging around in his bag, pulling out bottles and vials.

"Did he eat or drink anything during the past hours?"

Again, Remus could only shrug.

"I don't think so. From what his relatives said, they've been trying to keep away from him for the past days. Sirius gave him two glasses of water before we left, but that's been it."

Sirius impatiently interrupted them. "What's wrong with Harry?"

Dr. Mitchell sighed and wrote something down on a piece of parchment he had pulled out earlier. When he looked up, the worried frown was plainly evident on his face.

"I'm afraid that Remus was right in his assumption. What we have here is a severe case of Dragonpox."

Sirius shook his head.

"But that's a children's sickness! Harry is nearly sixteen, he shouldn't get them anymore."

Mitchell, much unlike Sirius, remained calm and lined up the bottles on the bedside table.

"My guess is that he has never been exposed to them when he was a child. From all that I know, young Mr. Potter here grew up amongst muggles, so it's not that unlikely that he didn't get them as a child. He must have caught it on the train after the school year. We could keep on guessing about this for hours, but there are more important questions now than how he got them.

Our patient has hit puberty a while back, and now that he is no child anymore, his body can't deal all that easily with the illness. He has a fever of 106°, that's alarming. And as we have to assume that he hasn't been treated in any way until now we'll have to do something quickly. I'll give him a strong fever-reducing potion and a sedative right now, and in about thirty minutes we'll see if that has any effects."

Remus swallowed.

"And if not?"
"If not, I'd strongly advice that you bring him into a hospital immediately. I can do only so much here, if this doesn't help he has to be treated somewhere better equipped. If the potions show effects, I'll stabilize him and give you instructions for further treatment. Could you hold him up for a moment, please?"

Sirius carefully lifted Harry up into a sitting position and flinched slightly as this movement was followed by a low moan from Harry. Mitchell unscrewed the tops on two of his small bottles and tipped them towards Harry's mouth. As soon as the liquids ran past his lips, the teenager greedily swallowed them down, seemingly not noticing their taste at all.

Sirius lowered Harry back onto the mattress and threw a questioning glance at Remus and Dr. Mitchell. It was Remus who after some moments broke the silence.

"What would have happened if Harry had received no treatment at all?"

Mitchell looked up sharply.

"I can't tell you for sure. Children's sicknesses are harder on adults, and far more dangerous. They can get lethal, but that depends on the sickness and the physical condition of the person. Considering Mr. Potter's state right now, I'd say that if nothing had been done against that fever, then it would have become quite critical. He's not out of the woods now, as it is."

Sirius growled lowly in his throat and Remus decided that it might be the right time to do something for the Dursleys' reputation, if only to keep his old friend form becoming a real-life murderer.

"But even if his relatives had taken him to see a doctor, surely a muggle doctor would have been quite unable to treat a wizarding illness anyway."

"They wouldn't have recognized it as something unusual. To them, it would have seemed like an extremely severe case of chickenpox and they would have treated it as such. And while it's not exactly the same illness, a muggle doctor would have managed to get the fever down. That's the most important thing in this case. The pustules would have gone away on their own, the fever is the part about which we'll have to worry. A muggle doctor would maybe not have been able to cure him, but he'd have been able to stabilize his system enough so that it could fight off the illness on its own after some time." Mitchell shrugged. "But at the moment it's quite futile to worry about that."

Remus now was convinced that this whole conversation had not been one of his better ideas. Not only did Sirius still growl, now he also looked ready to kill the Dursleys, should he ever encounter them again. Remus decided to have a close eye on this never happening in the near future. Or the distant future. Actually, Remus never wanted to encounter any of the Dursleys again, he himself was far too angry for that.

Sirius turned and sat down on the edge of Harry's bed again, taking up once more the task of trying to cool his godson down. Dr. Mitchell grabbed Remus by the sleeve of his robe and led him out of the room. When the door closed behind them, Remus found himself under a scrutinizing gaze of the smaller wizard.

"How official is my visit here?"

Remus frowned, his mind still being on Harry's sickness and thus he didn't really understand what his father's old friend was talking about.

"What do you mean?"
"Remus, I read the papers and I'm not stupid. I know that the man behind this door is Sirius Black", he raised his hands to stop Remus from interrupting him, "and from all that I know he has every right to be here. I've read about the trial. But in that room behind us is also a very sick Harry Potter, and I'm fairly sure that he is not supposed to be in your spare bedroom at the moment, is he?

All I want to know is how much of my visit here I have to forget when I leave later on."
Remus had to smile at those words.

"You won't have to forget anything, I think. It's true what I told you, Sirius is Harry's godfather. He doesn't officially have the custody for him yet, but until we went to check on him this afternoon, we had not planned to take him out of his relatives' care at all. But we just couldn't leave him there.

However, we haven't planned on keeping it a secret that we've taken Harry. I've already sent an owl to Professor Dumbledore."
Mitchell frowned.

"Why him?"
"Because he is far more concerned about Harry's safety than the Ministry will ever be. And because the Ministry officials will listen to him in case they try to take Harry away from here again when they get wind of what happened today. At least they'll listen more than they would to Sirius or me, being what we are."

Remus didn't need to elaborate further what he was talking about, Mitchell knew what he had wanted to say. A werewolf and an ex-convict. Not the kind of people the Ministry usually gave a lot of time to explain things.

"Let's look after Harry again. Maybe his fever has gone down in the meantime."
Remus and Dr. Mitchell returned to the room, only to find Sirius still bent over the unmoving and irresponsive form of Harry. Hearing them come into the room, Sirius turned.

"I get the feeling that his fever has dropped during the past minutes."

Mitchell grunted something and went across the room towards the bed. He waved his wand across Harry's head once, then checked something on his parchment. When he looked up, some of the frown had disappeared from his face.

"It seems that he's reacting to the fever-reducing potion. His fever has dropped to 102° and the sedative has put him at rest."

"That means he doesn't need to be brought to a hospital?"

Mitchell sighed and wrote something down on a new sheet of parchment.

"I'd be more at ease if you would do so, nevertheless. But it isn't absolutely necessary as long as you keep a close eye on him. As long as he reacts to his medication and his fever doesn't get that high again I don't see any reason why he shouldn't stay here."

He handed Remus the piece of parchment he had been writing on.

"You need to get those potions from the pharmacy for him. The first is a stronger fever-reducing potion than you have here. He should take it every six hours until the fever breaks and constantly stays around 100°. Else I wrote you a prescription for a sleeping potion in case he doesn't sleep calmly and a potion to treat the pustules. That should be done every six hours as well, I guess that as soon as he's strong enough again he'll start scratching himself."

Remus grimaced as he remembered his own experiences with Dragonpox. It had not been as bad as it was with Harry now, but he clearly remembered the constant itch and – even worse – the disgusting smell of the potion with which the pustules were treated. Nearly every wizarding child got Dragonpox at some point, and all of them hated the disgusting potion. He guessed hat Harry would make no exception there.

Remus took the parchment from Dr. Mitchell and nodded.

"Is there something else we need to take care of?"
Mitchell shrugged.

"I guess he'll be out of it for a while now. You need to make sure that he gets enough liquids, a glass of water at least every two or three hours, depending on how high the fever is. If he's thirsty, you should allow him to drink as much as he wants. I'll come back tomorrow afternoon and have a look at him. If he's not awake and coherent by then, we'll have to get some nutrition potions into him, but we'll see that tomorrow.

Check his temperature at least every hour, and if the fever goes up to 103° or104° again despite the potions, call me immediately."

He packed everything except from another bottle of fever-reducing potion back into his bag and shook Sirius' hand. Remus went downstairs with him and opened the door for the small wizard.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Dr. Mitchell."

The older man turned on the doorstep and smiled up at his own former patient.

"That's all right, Remus. Send Richard my greetings, will you?"

"Of course. He said he'd be in England in a couple of weeks, I guess he'll drop by then."

"I'm looking forward to it. Until tomorrow, then. Good bye Remus."
"Good bye, Dr. Mitchell. And thank you again."

The small man winked once more at Remus, then he turned and apparated out of the front yard. Remus closed the door and sighed. At least now they knew what was wrong with Harry, and they knew how to deal with it. He'd better get his robe and go into town to fetch the potions for him. From all that he knew about treating sick children and teenagers – and admittedly that wasn't all that much – Sirius and he would be in for an interesting night.

Remus was just about to turn for the staircase again when a crackling sound from the yard announced that somebody had just apparated. Opening the door, Remus found himself face-to-face with Albus Dumbledore, and the Hogwarts headmaster didn't look all that amused. Remus gestured him into the house.

"Albus, thank you for coming immediately."

"Remus, I just hope Sirius has a good explanation for taking Harry out of his relatives' care without anybody's knowledge. I thought I had been explicit that for once in his life he'd better do what he's told and stay put until things are settled officially. I thought I had been quite explicit about it, wasn't I?"

Remus calmingly raised his hands and took the older man's outer robe from him.

"Sirius had a very good reason, Albus. We just wanted to check on Harry – and yes, I know that he wasn't even supposed to do that, but there was reason to worry. Nobody heard of Harry all summer, and I went with Sirius to make sure that he didn't do anything stupid. But when we arrived there...well, we just couldn't leave him there, Albus. Not this time."

"What is wrong?" Dumbledore's features softened somewhat as he saw the confusion and worry in Remus' face.

"Harry is sick. Very sick, to be precise. He has Dragonpox that weren't treated for days, and he was burning up with fever. There was no other choice than to take him out of there as his relatives didn't do anything to help him. I know that we've taken him out of the protection around his relatives' home, but we've had a good reason to do so. I immediately wrote you so that we can think about protecting him here as long as it takes for him to get well again."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Has a doctor looked at him? Poppy is not at Hogwarts at the moment."

"I know, that's why I called Dr. Mitchell, and old friend of my father. He's already treated me back when I had Dragonpox as a child, and he has thoroughly checked Harry and given him something against the fever."

"Good. Then we maybe take a short moment to talk about temporarily warding the house. Where is Sirius?" Dumbledore chuckled as he saw the look in Remus' eyes.

"I take it he's with Harry, then?"

"Yes, glued to the spot next to him. Upstairs, the first door on the left."

Dumbledore nodded and went up the stairs, quickly followed by Remus. He'd plan out the warding of the house with Albus and Sirius – as far as Sirius was open for any kind of conversation over his worry – then he'd go and get the potions for Harry, and maybe with a little luck they'd be able to establish something akin to normality by this afternoon. Hopefully.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

When consciousness slowly returned to Harry, he immediately wished it hadn't. His head felt as if it had been used as an anvil and his whole body ached. No, not his whole body, Harry realized after some moments. Parts of his body itched badly, and it appeared to be those parts which he couldn't have reached even if he had been strong enough to move his arms.

And wherever he was, it was hot here. For a moment Harry contemplated to open his eyes, get out of bed and over towards the window, but he quickly dismissed the idea again. It was highly unlikely that he would have the energy to even sit up. He only wondered why Aunt Petunia hadn't banged on his door yet with the shill shriek for him to wake up and prepare breakfast. Well, maybe she had realized that he was in no condition to do anything just about now.

Something cold and wet touched his forehead and Harry immediately flinched away from the contact. As hot as he felt, the cool touch seemed to hurt more than it did good. Harry couldn't really move away from it, so he tried to vocalize his protest against the treatment. But all that came out was a low moan.

"Shhh, I know it's not pleasant, but it helps."

Then somebody softly stroke his cheek.

Now Harry was completely and utterly confused. He had been sick before – at least Harry assumed that he was sick now – but that had never really bothered anybody. Nobody had ever sat by his side, or tried to cool his fever before, let alone comforted him in any way. It just wasn't something Aunt Petunia did, at least not for him. And hadn't it been a male voice speaking to him? But who?

Uncle Vernon? Harry would have laughed, if he had been able to. No, Uncle Vernon wouldn't care at all if Harry was sick or not.

But then, who?

Harry decided that it would be worth the effort to open up one eye. For a moment, all he could see was a blinding brightness, then a dark blurred shaped leaned over him and blocked out the light. Harry closed his eye again, he couldn't really make anything out without his glasses, anyway.

"Harry? Are you awake?"

Harry knew that voice, he just could not pinpoint its owner at the moment. Somehow it was familiar, but trying to find out where he knew it from was like trying to grasp something in thin air. It just evaded him time and time again.

The voice had been asking him something, maybe he should answer it. Maybe that way he would find out whom it belonged to. But what was it the man had asked him?

Harry turned his head to the right, but that movement already hurt so much that he moaned again.

"Harry?"

The cool cloth and the hand were back again, and slowly Harry's thoughts were getting more coherent. He tried to open his eyes again, and this time he managed to hold them open. The blurred shape over him was blocking out most of the light, now he only needed to find out who it was.

"What…?"

Alright, talking didn't really work yet, but at least it had gotten the other's attention.

"Shhh, don't speak. You're sick and have a high fever, but you'll be alright in no time. As soon as Remus comes up with another dose of potion you'll be asleep again."

A hand combed soothingly through his sweaty hair.

"In no time you'll be alright again."

Something the man had said had struck Harry's recognition. But what?

The sound of an opening door distracted Harry from his fever-dazzled thoughts for a moment. Somebody came into the room and sat down on the other side of his mattress.

"How is he, Padfoot?"
Padfoot? Sounded oddly familiar…

"I think he's a bit better. He's been reacting to what I did, and a moment ago he even tried to talk. Though his fever is still awfully high."

Something was moved to his left.

"Hold him up, will you?"

A pair of hands grabbed hold of Harry's shoulders and gently eased him up into a sitting position. Nevertheless, Harry moaned. The movement hurt and where the hands touched him the itch grew even stronger. If he only knew what was wrong with him.

Something was pressed against his lips and the voice spoke to him again, this time gently coaxing.

"Come on kiddo, drink this. You'll feel better afterwards, I promise."

A cool liquid ran into his mouth and Harry had no choice but to swallow. He immediately felt drowsy and consciousness fled again. But Harry would not allow himself to fall asleep before he had solved the puzzle of who those two mysterious men were.

The second man had called the first one Padfoot. Padfoot, that was his godfather Sirius. But Sirius could not be with him, he was still on the run from the Ministry. Wasn't he? But then again, that voice had sounded astonishingly like Sirius…

Before Harry could find the solution for this mystery, he was fast asleep again.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

The next time Harry was woken up from something he couldn't define at first. It took him some moments to realize that somebody was pinning down his wrists while he frantically tried to move his hands. But whoever was restraining him just didn't understand how bad it itched. How bad his whole body itched.

"Harry! Harry stop scratching! That only makes it worse."

The blanket was pulled away from his chest and a cloth with some sort of liquid was wiped across several spots on his chest and stomach. It smelled disgustingly and burned a little, but at least the itching stopped immediately. Then the blanket was pulled back up.

Harry opened his eyes and this time it didn't hurt as it had done before. Everything was blurred again, but after a moment the other person slid his glasses onto his face. Harry blinked once or twice as the world got into focus again. And this time there was no mistaking, no puzzle-solving about who the other person in the room was. Harry recognized him immediately. But that didn't mean that he was not puzzled by what he saw, not at all.
"Sirius?"

His godfather smiled down at Harry and ran a hand through his still sweat-matted hair.

"Hey kiddo", he said softly, "good to see you awake again."

His voice was low, but warm and held a large amount of relief in it. But he had yet to say something that would explain this entire mystery to Harry.

"What…where…how?"

Sirius laughed.

"You're a bit confused at the moment, right? If you want to know what's wrong with you, you are sick. Dragonpox."

Dragonpox? Harry had never heard of that particular illness before, but he decided that he didn't like the sound of it. Not at all. It sounded…dangerous, as stupid as that thought seemed for a nearly sixteen year old teenager. Maybe it was just his personal experience with dragons, but he didn't particularly care about illnesses that were named after his least favourite animals.

"Sounds bad."

He still wasn't the most eloquent person alive, Harry realized, but at least by now he was able to vocalize what was going on in his mind.

Sirius must have caught on his idea about Dragonpox, because he chuckled lowly. Harry just wanted to tell him that it wasn't really funny to be suffering from Dragonpox, whatever illness it was, when his godfather ran his hand through Harry's hair and along his face in a soothing gesture. Harry wasn't used to receiving physical affection, and no matter how comforting the touch was his first instinct was to flinch away from it. Only the fact that he was way too weak to move stopped him from doing so.

"Harry, Dragonpox normally isn't something really dangerous. It's a children's sickness like the chickenpox which muggle-children get sometimes, only that wizarding children usually get it when they're still quite young. You must have caught it on the train back home, and because you're no child anymore and because it wasn't treated immediately, it got a bit dangerous. You've been running a high fever for quite some time."

Harry tried to process this information. Quite some time?

"How long?"

"Three days. Remus and I have fetched you from your relatives' on Wednesday, and now it's Saturday afternoon. You've been awake once yesterday, but the remaining time you were either asleep or drugged to the brim with fever-reducing and sleeping-potions."

Harry frowned.

"Saturday?"

The idea that he was missing three entire days in his memory was not a pleasant one. But before Harry could continue to think about it, his right hand automatically moved towards a particularly nasty itch on his left upper arm and started scratching. As soon as Sirius realized what Harry was doing he gave him a scolding look and gently pulled his hand away by the wrist. Harry struggled against his godfather's hold, but even if he had not been ill he would not have been a match for his godfather when it came to physical strength.

"Don't scratch, Harry. It only makes the itch worse and the pustules scar over."

Sirius pulled away the blanket from Harry's chest and arms and Harry found that he was not wearing any clothes except from a pair of boxer-shorts. What shocked him even more was that his entire body seemed to be covered in dark purple pustules the size of a needle's head. He looked up at Sirius with wide eyes, but his godfather didn't see the panicked look. He didn't appear to be particularly concerned about Harry's pustules, either. Instead, he was rummaging on the bedside table for something. Harry immediately used Sirius' distraction for another good scratch on his upper arm, but a scolding look from his godfather made him stop immediately.

"There are other ways to keep you from scratching, you know? Ways that aren't comfortable at all, like the hand-numbing hexes my mum used on me. Really, you're worse than your father when he had them, and he was only seven."

"But it itches."
Sirius looked at Harry and started to laugh. In his hands, Harry realized, he was holding a brown bottle and a cotton cloth.

"Alright, let's see what we can do against that itching. I tell you, this stuff smells horrible, but it does wonders against the pustules."

He shrugged.

"I guess it's something every wizarding child has to go through once. And we've all survived despite the smell, though it might sound unbelievable right now."

That said, Sirius started to cover the pustules on Harry's upper body with the pinkish lotion from the bottle. He was right, the potion stank horribly, but Harry remembered it as the smell that had been there when he had woken up earlier on.

That the potion was smelling nasty was not bothering him, he got enough of those in Snape's class at school. No, what was really bothering him was the fact that his godfather was applying it on his pustules, just as if Harry was a five year old kid who couldn't do it himself. And he didn't even want to think about what this might have been like during the past three days. Weakly, he tried to grab Sirius' wrist.
"I can do that."
Sirius chuckled again.

"I've done that for three days now, I should think that would take the embarrassment out of this procedure."

Harry groaned and felt himself blush.

"I wasn't conscious then."

Sirius smiled at the protest but continued to work over Harry' pustules nevertheless.

"Listen kiddo, you're sick. Sick as in 'not able to take care of yourself on your own', so humour me and allow me to do that, please."

Harry nodded his consent, but his face remained flushed red.

"Can you sit up on your own?"

Harry tried to sit, but found that his hands and arms would not support his weight just yet. He shook his head weakly.

"Not really."

Sirius shrugged.

"Never mind."

He wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him up into a sitting position.

"Think you can stay upright until I'm finished with your back?"
Harry nodded, still completely embarrassed at the thought of being helpless and partly immobile, just like a small child. Sirius must have sensed his discomfort because he handed him another cloth and the bottle with the potion.

"Here, you can take care of your arms and legs if you want."

He pulled the blanket away from Harry's legs and revealed them to be covered in the same pustules as his chest and supposedly his back was, too.
For some moments both applied the medicine in silence, until finally all Harry's questions caught up with him.

"Sirius?"

"Hmmm?"

"Where are we?"

"We're in the spare bedroom of Remus' house. He's in town at the moment, getting some more fever-reducing potion for you, but he should be back soon."

Harry frowned. Remus, that was Remus Lupin, his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who had come back to teach at Hogwarts last year. Harry didn't know where exactly Professor Lupin lived, but he definitely knew that wherever it was, it surely was hidden carefully. For one because of Professor Lupin's lycanthropy, and secondly because Voldemort and his Death Eaters had a vital interest in bringing down all of Albus Dumbledore's supporters, his godfather and his DADA professor being somewhere on top of the list. Harry frowned. It would have been a lot less dangerous if Sirius had just brought him to the Hogwarts infirmary. At least then he needn't have worried that Harry's presence might attract unwanted attention to them. Merlin knew that Sirius didn't need any unwanted attention right now.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Harry felt Sirius stop in his ministrations.

"Why? Harry, you were sick and that excuse of a family didn't take care of you. They didn't worry about you at all, not even when your fever became so high that it got dangerous for you. I couldn't have left you with them, not with a clear conscience."

Harry shook his head. That was not what he had meant, and Sirius should know that.

"No, why here and not Hogwarts? It's too dangerous with me around, you could get caught."

Sirius stopped applying the potion to Harry's back and shifted his position, so that they were face to face again. Harry didn't know if he just imagined it, but he thought his godfather was grinning somewhat sheepishly. He scratched his head with his left hand, messing up his ponytail in the process, just as if he was searching for the right words to say something.

"Erm, you see Harry, a couple of things have happened since we met the last time."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Like what?"
"Like the little run-in I've had with those Ministry Aurors slightly less than a week ago."

"What?"

It wasn't the peak of eloquence, but at the moment Harry couldn't seem to think or say anything else.

"What happened?"

"I was lucky. Albus got wind of what had happened and stopped them from feeding me to the Dementors. I still don't know how, but he convinced Fudge of giving me a trial."

Harry's eyes had the size of saucers right now.

"You've had…but then…then you're free?"
Sirius nodded, a huge grin on his face.

"It's still a mystery to me how and why, but yes, I'm free. The Ministry sent somebody to fetch you for the trial, but he came back saying that you were sick. That's why Remus and I went to Privet Drive on Wednesday, we were quite worried because nobody had heard from you all summer."
He ruffled Harry's hair affectionately.

"Seems you'll be stuck with me for a little longer from now on. At least that's what I hope, the custody thing is still not settled officially. And you still have to agree, of course."

As weak as he still was, Harry felt himself smile broadly.

"Are you kidding? If you really want me here, then I'd be glad to move in."

Sirius smiled.

"Great. Now, considering the fact that I don't want to have that disgusting potion all over me, I suggest we delay all hugging until you're fine again, okay?"

Harry nodded, smiling.

"Okay."

"I guess you're also hungry, right? From all that I know, Nutrition potions are not really good for filling your stomach."
"Starved, yes."

"Good. Wait here, I'll be back with something to eat in a moment."

With another smile, Sirius got up from the edge of the bed where he had been sitting and walked over towards the door. Harry obediently settled back against his pillows and waited for him to come back. Not that he could have done anything else, even if he had wanted it.

It took Sirius only a few minutes until he was back, a tray in his hands. He set the tray in Harry's lap and settled back into his position on the edge of the mattress. Harry eyed the tray suspiciously.

"Soup?"
"Soup. You haven't eaten anything solid in days, and to be honest, when we fetched you, you didn't look as if your relatives had fed you extremely well, either. I'm not so sure your stomach could handle anything other than soup right now."

Harry sighed and picked up the spoon. It didn't look as if there was anything he could do to convince Sirius otherwise, so he obediently spooned down his soup. He was nearly finished with the bowl of chicken broth when the door to his room opened and Remus Lupin entered the room, a goblet in his hands. He looked at Harry and immediately a huge smile spread across his face.

"Harry! Good to see you awake again. You had us a bit worried there during the past days."

Harry blushed a little.

"Sorry, Professor."
Remus shook his head and sat down on the other side of Harry's bed.

"First of all, it's not Professor when not in class. Your dad would have had a fit if he heard that." He chuckled. "Call me Remus, alright?"

"Alright, thanks."

"Good. And secondly, you really don't need to apologize, especially not for being sick. It's not as if you did that on purpose."

Harry nodded at him, but the movement made him dizzy and his head started to spin. He had not felt really fine before, but right now he started feeling even worse. Again. Sirius put a hand on his shoulder and watched him concernedly.

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong?"
Harry breathed in deeply and tried to will down his nausea.

"Remember what you said about my stomach not being able to handle anything other than soup at the moment?"

Sirius nodded, frowning.

"Yes?"

"Well, it seems I can't even handle soup right now."

"Are you going to be sick?"
Harry nodded, but before he or Sirius could do anything about it, Harry lost his battle against his stomach and heaved violently, throwing up the contents of his stomach right into Sirius' lap. Harry stared at his godfather in horror, expecting him to start yelling any moment. He didn't notice the look of extreme concern Sirius eyed him with.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Sirius. I'm…"
He pressed a hand over his mouth as another wave of nausea swept through him.

Reacting immediately, Remus scooped Harry up in his arms and with a surprising speed carried him across the corridor into the bathroom where he deposited him in front of the toilet. Harry attempted to give him a grateful smile before he heaved again and lost the rest of the soup into the toilet. His stomach contracted painfully, and Harry couldn't help the tears that ran down his face. It seemed that all his bodily functions didn't obey his will anymore.

He had to be a pitiful sight, Harry thought. He was wearing nothing except from a pair of blue boxer-shorts, his whole body was covered in purple pustules and pinkish lotion, he was pale, had a fever and was currently crouching in front of a toilet, crying and throwing up for all that he was worth. And to make things even worse, he had thrown up all over Sirius' lap. He didn't even want to imagine what his godfather must think of him now. Especially now. That was really not what Harry had imagined living with Sirius to start like.

After some long moments the violent retching subsided and Harry let his head fall on his chest, panting. Only now did he realize that somebody was gently rubbing his back and smoothing his hair from his face with the other hand.

"Feel better?"

Harry looked up and realized that it was Sirius, minus the vomit on his jeans and shirt. He nodded weakly and allowed his godfather to turn him around, pull him up and seat him on the edge of the bathtub. To top it all, he was shivering violently by now. Remus came over towards them with a bathrobe which Sirius immediately wrapped around Harry's shivering form. He then reached over towards the sink and wetted a washcloth to wipe the remaining vomit from Harry's face.

Remus handed him a glass of water which Harry took with still shaking hands.

"Here, drink this. I'm sure I have something to settle your stomach here, just give me a moment."

Harry drank the water and put the glass away. He felt tired, drained and still sick, and all he wanted now was curl up, close his eyes and sleep until this whole Dragonpox-disaster was over. He leaned back against Sirius and relaxed into his godfather's arms. Sirius immediately tightened his hold on him.

"Tired, Harry? Come on, let's get you back to bed."

Harry nodded weakly into Sirius' chest and felt himself being lifted up and carried to his bed again. He knew that he was still scrawny and thin for his age, though he had grown a bit during the past year, but after all he was nearly sixteen and should not be carried around like a five-year old. Within moments and with a couple of wand-waves from Sirius, Harry's bed was covered in crispy clean white sheets and Harry was settled back under the blanket. Sirius put a hand on Harry's forehead and muttered a spell, then he sighed.

"Your fever has gone up again, it's best if you sleep now. Alright, kiddo?"

Harry nodded, but grasped Sirius' hand tightly.

"Sorry."

Above him, he could see Sirius frown.

"Whatever for?"

"Throwing up on you."

Sirius smiled and smoothed down Harry's hair, a gesture that seemed to quickly become habitual for him.

"No need to be sorry, you couldn't help that. And it was nothing a quick spell couldn't clean away, so don't worry about it."

Sirius looked up as Remus came into the room, a glass with something that looked like milk in his hands. He put the glass on the bedside table next to the goblet he had brought in earlier.

"Alright, the white potion will settle your stomach again, and the other one will bring the fever down and put you asleep for a couple of hours. You'll be better when you wake up."

Harry nodded and accepted the glass Remus handed him. While Sirius held him in a half-sitting position, Harry gulped down first the stomach- then the fever potion. His eyelids became heavier and heavier, and Harry knew that he would not remain awake for very much longer. Sirius eased him back onto the mattress.

"Sleep now, Harry."

"Hmmm."

Sirius chuckled.

"Somebody already sounds tired."

Harry nodded, but before he allowed his eyes to drop close he grabbed for Sirius' hand.

"Sirius? Do me a favour?"
Sirius smiled and nodded.

"Sure, just out with it."
"Stay here?"

If he was already carried around and cared for like a small child, he could as well act like one. Especially since he really wanted his godfather to be there when he woke up again.

Sirius smiled fondly at him.

"Sure. Just go to sleep, I'll be there when you wake up."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, finally allowing sleep to take over.

Harry's sleep was anything but peaceful and undisturbed. He had the feeling that he could not sleep for more than half an hour straight without waking up. The only thing that calmed him was that true to his word, Sirius was sitting by his side whenever he woke.

Harry's fever had to be climbing up again, because during the short periods when he was awake he could hardly think coherent.

Sirius was constantly trying to cool him down with the cool and wet cloth on his face and chest, and once Harry got the impression that his entire body got wet and cold, but he quickly dismissed it as fantasy when he woke up again next time and found himself warm and dry in his bed.

In regular intervals both adults forced another potion down his throat upon which Harry felt a bit better and his sleep got a bit deeper.

Harry didn't know for how long he had been in this state, but eventually exhaustion caught up with him and he fell into a deep and less disturbed sleep.

When Harry woke up again it took him some moments to remember where he was and why his head was feeling so dizzy. He was lying on his back looking up at the ceiling while he was trying to remember everything that had happened.

He had been at the Dursleys, and then Sirius and Remus had fetched him. And now he was sick. Dragonpox, Sirius had said. As he remembered the Dragonpox, he immediately pulled away the blanket from his arms and upper chest and looked whether he had only imagined it or whether he was truly covered in purple pustules.

He was covered in pustules, and from the looks (and smell) of it, they had been just recently treated with that stinking potion again.

Harry pulled the blanket up again and turned his head to look around in the room. His bedside table was covered with potion bottles, goblets, used cloths, a water jug and empty glasses and other things Harry didn't immediately recognize.

A smile crept over Harry's face as his eyes fell onto the sleeping form of his godfather. Sirius was still sitting in the chair next to Harry's bed, and Harry didn't even want to imagine what his godfather's back had to feel like.

Sirius was bent over towards the bed, his arms crossed on the edge of the mattress and his head resting on his arms. He seemed to be fast asleep, and judged from the exhausted look on his face and the deep rings under his eyes he would not wake up so easily.

Harry felt a stab of guilt knot up his insides. Sirius was in this uncomfortable situation just because Harry had asked him to stay at his bedside. Harry really didn't know what he had been thinking. He must have been feverish when he had requested Sirius to stay with him. He was no small child anymore, he really didn't need to be pampered like one.

Harry admitted that it was a nice feeling to know that somebody had been sitting beside him all night, and to see his godfather being there upon waking up, but who was he to demand this from Sirius just so that he felt more comfortable at waking. Merlin knew Sirius had enough else to worry about.

Silently, the door to the room was opened and Harry saw Remus come into the room carrying a tray in front of him. He seemed to be stifling a hearty laugh when he took in the picture of Sirius and Harry on the bed, but he gave Harry a warm smile as he put the tray on the bedside table and sat down on the other side of Harry's bed.

"Good morning Harry."

Carefully, so as not to wake his godfather, Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position. He was pleased to realize that his arms were finally able to support his weight again.

"Morning."

"How are you feeling?"
Harry shrugged.

"Better, I think. But I don't really know, the last time I thought that, I threw up all over Sirius only moments later, so I don't want to judge too early."

Remus laughed, then put his hand on Harry's forehead and felt his temperature. It was a strangely intimate gesture, something Harry was not used to yet. His first instinct was to flinch away from the contact, but he kept his reflexes in tight check and allowed it to happen, waiting for Remus' assessment. The older man didn't seem to grant that much importance to the small physical contact, but Harry guessed that Remus had checked his temperature often enough during the past days and didn't really think about it anymore. He kept his hand on Harry's forehead for a moment, frowned, then took out his wand and waved it around Harry's head once. Harry didn't quite understand the spell that was muttered, but it had to be a wizarding way to check the temperature, because the frown quickly disappeared from Remus' face again.

"Well, it seems your fever has broken for good. Finally."

The last word was said like a sigh and Harry glanced up curiously.

"Don't tell me I've been out for days again."

Remus shook his head and laughed, one hand combing a lock of sandy brown hair from out of his eyes.

"No, not for days. Slightly more than twenty hours, though. After you threw up, your fever came back with a vengeance, and two hours later it was so high that we called the doctor again."

Harry frowned. He didn't remember seeing a doctor. He told Remus as much, but the older man just smiled knowingly and nodded.

"I guess you wouldn't, you weren't really conscious that time. We had to put you in the tub with cold water for half an hour to get the fever down until Dr. Mitchell arrived. He then gave you some stronger fever-reducing potions until the fever broke again. He said that children's sicknesses are always more dangerous if an adult or older teenager gets them, that's why you were running such a high fever.

Sirius was a bit beside himself with worry. In the end, Dr. Mitchell threatened to sedate him if he didn't stop fretting."

While Remus was laughing about this, Harry glanced guiltily over towards his godfather, who was still sleeping as if nothing in the world could disturb him. Remus caught that glance and brought Harry's attention back to himself with a hand on his shoulder. Harry's green eyes glanced up at him and he tried to calm the teenager with a smile.

"He'd not have left even if you hadn't asked him to stay with you. He couldn't fret over you for such a long time, humour him and let him do it now. He'd feel useless otherwise, and between the two of us – he's insufferable when he feels useless."

Harry looked at Sirius again and smiled. Somehow, Remus was right, Harry knew that. Sirius surely would have stayed up with him even if he hadn't asked him to, but nevertheless Harry couldn't get rid of the guilty feeling that Sirius would be a lot more comfortable if he didn't have Harry to worry about.

"Maybe we should bring him into his bed. He'd be more comfortable there."

Remus shook his head.

"Nah, that wouldn't be a good idea. He'd only be angry with me for moving him away from you when he wakes up. Besides, I think he's quite comfortable just to sleep now, I don't think he'd particularly care where it is.

Right, I originally came up because it's time for your medication."

Remus turned towards the bedside table and the tray he had brought over earlier. He grabbed one goblet and handed it over to Harry.

"That's your fever-reducing potion. You should take it for another twelve hours or so, just to make sure that the fever doesn't come back."

Harry obediently took the goblet and drank its contents. He would not be sad when he didn't have to take the potion anymore, its taste wasn't exactly pleasant. Remus took the empty goblet back from him and handed him a glass of water.

"Do you want something to eat?"

Harry nearly choked on the water.

"I don't think that would be very wise. Remember what happened last time I ate something?"
Remus laughed and glanced over towards the still sleeping Sirius.

"Harry, you can't stop eating forever just because you threw up into Sirius' lap once."

"I can try."

Remus laughed.

"Oh, sure you could. But if your relationship towards food is only slightly similar to your father's, then I think you won't last longer than half a day or so."

Harry shrugged.

"Should be worth a try. It's just that it was an experience I don't want to repeat anytime soon. Being sick isn't my favourite way of spending the holidays, you know? Besides, it's pretty embarrassing."

Remus just smiled gently and placed a plate with toast on Harry's lap.

"Just eat them. Dr. Mitchell said you threw up because the sickness was wreaking havoc in your system, but that it should not be any problem for you to eat something solid as long as you take a little care as to what you eat."

Harry was hungry, he couldn't deny that. But the experience of throwing up was still quite fresh in his mind, and as he had told Remus, he had no intention to repeat it anytime soon. For some moments he fought an inner battle about whether or not to eat the toast, but in the end hunger won over caution and Harry took a large bite off one of the slices. He chewed it thoroughly, swallowed and waited for some moments. His stomach didn't protest in any way, on the contrary it demanded more of the food. Throwing all hesitancy over board, Harry hungrily devoured the rest of the bread on the plate. Remus watched the scene with a huge smile on his face.

"Told you your stomach could handle it."

Harry lifted his hand and waved it, signalling uncertainty.

"I'll wait for a couple of minutes before I make my final judgement about that. I'd rather not mess up your clothes as well."

Remus shook his head.

"One of the big advantages of magic is that cleaning up any kind of mess is rather easy. So don't worry about that."

Harry handed the empty plate back to Remus and turned his head to where Sirius was still sleeping.

"How long has he been out?"
Remus shrugged.

"I don't know exactly. The last time that I saw him awake was maybe six hours ago. When I checked on you an hour ago, he was sleeping peacefully. I don't think he'll be up again for the rest of the afternoon."

Harry nodded and thought about it for a moment. Something Remus had said had struck him as odd, but what? Then he knew.

"If Sirius was sleeping, then it was you who treated me with the potion?"
Harry gestured at the pustules on his arms, which were covered in a relatively fresh layer of the pink lotion. He couldn't help the blush that was creeping on his cheeks again. Not only Sirius, but now also Remus had been nursing him like a small child. And he didn't even want to think about the incident when he had been put in the bathtub last night. He didn't remember it, but nevertheless he felt pretty embarrassed about it.

Remus watched Harry attentively and saw his cheeks flushing as he asked that question. He nodded at the self-conscious teenager.

"Well, when I came up an hour ago you were just about to scratch yourself bloody." He shrugged. "I didn't want to risk bringing Sirius' wrath upon me. No need to be embarrassed about it."

Harry clearly didn't agree with that point of view, but he decided to let that matter rest for the moment.

"Isn't there something we can do to make it at least a bit more comfortable for Sirius? I don't like the idea of him twisting his spine while sitting here."

Remus smiled and thought for a moment. Eventually, he nodded and pulled out his wand.

"Yes, I think we can do something about this."

He waved his wand and within moments, levitated everything from the bedside table to the floor and transfigured the bedside table into a comfortable looking cot.

"Alright, now for the difficult part."

But Sirius didn't seem to realize that Remus levitated him from his chair to the cot, then put the chair aside and moved the cot right next to Harry's bed.

"Better?"

Harry smiled and nodded.

"Yes, thank you."

"You're welcome.

So, what do you want to do now that you're awake?"

Harry shrugged.

"I really don't know. I still have a Transfiguration essay to write…"

Remus looked at him as if Harry had grown a second head.

"You want to do homework. Now. You're sick and lying in bed, a position that any teenager would use to let himself get spoilt rotten, and you want to do your homework? You can't be serious."

Harry shrugged again.

"I really don't know anything else to keep myself occupied. Maybe read something, or write an owl to Ron."

Remus shook his head.

"How about a game of chess?"

Harry frowned.

"Don't you have anything else to do?" Seeing Remus flinch, Harry quickly added. "No, sorry, I didn't want it to sound like that. It's just – you really don't have to sit up with me if you have something else you'd be rather doing."

Remus smiled.

"Well, I don't have anything to do. If you want, I'll make us a pot of tea and some more toast, and then I come back up with the chess set. At least it's better than watching Sirius sleep, I'd think. He's not all that interesting to watch, and from what I remember from our time at school, he drools."

Harry smiled back, genuinely.

"Sounds good, thanks."

Remus and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon playing chess against each other. Harry had to admit that he was still extremely confused by everything that had happened during the past days. One moment, he was lying sick in his small bedroom at Privet Drive without anybody caring about it, the next he woke up in his teacher's spare bedroom with Sirius at his side and suffering from Dragonpox. And everything that had happened had happened without Harry consciously realizing it, that was all a bit much to take in.

Not to mention the fact that Remus was his teacher. Of course Harry knew that he had been one of his father's best friends, just like Sirius, but he had gotten to know Remus Lupin as a teacher and not as a friend, that was a bit hard to overcome. Especially since he'd be Harry's teacher again as soon as they returned to Hogwarts.

That's why it was a bit hard for them to get into a real conversation with each other and so they spent the time in a mostly comfortable silence. Sirius was still sleeping soundly and didn't even wake up when Remus' knight violently smashed Harry's king for the third time in a row. Concernedly, Harry turned towards Remus.

"Do you think that's normal?"

Remus just laughed. "Don't worry, I'd be more worried if Sirius didn't sleep as deeply. He hardly slept at all during the past days, he's got a bit to catch up to."

"All just because of me."

Though Harry had mumbled those words lowly Remus' good hearing had caught them.

"Yes Harry, all because of you."

Harry looked up, startled, but before he could say something Remus continued.

"And I don't think he'd want it any other way, Harry. Sirius wants to take care of you, and that doesn't only concern the times when you're feeling well. You're sick and Sirius exhausted himself a bit because he stayed up with you. So what? That's part of the package and I know that he doesn't mind, so don't worry too much about it."

Harry looked at the sleeping form of his godfather and nodded, though Remus could tell that he was still not entirely convinced of what he had been told. The teenager's hand moved towards his neck and started scratching a spot Remus had missed in his earlier potion treatment. Gently but forcefully Remus pried the hand away and reached for the potion bottle on Harry's bedside table.

"Alright, I guess it's time to look after your pustules again."

Harry groaned but obediently sat up straight and pulled the blanket away from his legs. This didn't get less embarrassing the more often it happened, but there was nothing Harry could do about it.

Remus saw the teenager blush slightly and couldn't help but chuckle. He handed Harry a cloth and the potion bottle.

"How about you do that and I take care of the parts you can't reach?"

Harry nodded, relieved. If he treated as many of his pustules as possible on his own then he'd probably not feel all that embarrassed anymore. Harry managed to cover his entire arms, legs, chest and stomach with the potion – and by now the smell of it made Harry's stomach jerk every time it reached his nostrils – and Remus only had to take care of his back, neck and face. They were done in about fifteen minutes and Harry gratefully sank down into his pillows again.

"How long will it take until I'm well again?"

Remus shrugged and began to clean up the mess on Harry's bedside table.

"I don't really know. Dr. Mitchell said that the worst would be over once the fever's broken for good. It might take another week or ten days until the pustules have vanished and you're up and about again."

Harry groaned.

"A week? I can't keep lying in bed for an entire week!"

Remus smiled down at him, seemingly not noticing the teenager's protest.

"It might do you some good to relax for a change. Besides, the Ministry has still to grant Sirius the custody officially, and he'll need to shape up and ward the house."

Harry frowned.

"Isn't the house warded already?" Harry could not really imagine that his ever-so-careful professor had not protected his house against unwanted intruders, not with his lycanthropy, with Sirius and now even Harry living there. "And why shaping it up?"
Remus laughed at the teenager's obvious confusion.

"Yes, this house is warded. But I was talking about Sirius' own house or rather, his parent's old house. It's been a while since somebody lived there. As much as I enjoyed having him here for the past year, Sirius has his own house for the two of you to live in. And he was always extremely independent."

"Oh." Harry let that information sink in for a moment. "So Sirius will have to leave for that?"

There was an obvious note of worry in Harry's voice and Remus had to hide a smile.

"We'll first wait what the Ministry says to the custody petition he handed in. Maybe in a couple of days he'll have to look after the house himself, but I don't think it should take too long. And I guess he'll take us with him, anyway, he already said something about needing help with getting the house shaped up again. I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you. He'll not just leave without a trace."

Harry blushed a bit at that last comment and Remus regretted saying it immediately. He didn't know Harry too well, but he knew that the teenager was craving a family, somebody to rely on completely. And now that this had finally come within reach for him Remus should not make it look like a laughing matter.  Harry definitely didn't need to think that it was wrong to think and feel like he did, Remus was relieved that he was so willing to live with Sirius, trusting his godfather completely and unconditionally.

Remus checked his watch.

"You should try and get some more sleep, Harry. If you need something, just call, I'll be downstairs. Good night."

Harry nodded and leaned back into his mattress and pillows, closing his eyes.

"Good night."

Exhaustion was catching up quickly and moments later Harry was asleep.