A/N: No, you're not hallucinating – I really am alive and posting something! I'm rather ashamed that it's been so bloody long since I last updated… I blame real life and all its distractions. But now that summer's approaching, here's hoping I'll have much more time to churn out the chapters. Oh, and before we go any further, let's all thank MrsTater, because her polite prodding and rec at crackbroom (so very flattering!) really helped me get moving on this. So this one's for her!

Strangeways, Here We Come

Hurt…

She hurt.

That was the only coherent thought she had as she slowly drifted back to consciousness. The dull, throbbing ache all over her body was noticed first, before the acrid odour of sanitation spells assaulted her nose and the starchy stiffness of hospital linens scratched against her skin. It was only after confusingly registering a dozen painful sensations hitting her all at once that she became cognizant of a more pleasant one – the warm weight of a calloused hand desperately squeezing hers.

She opened her eyes warily, blinking and tearing up as the harsh light met them. But she realized hers weren't the only eyes watering as she met those of the man keeping vigil by her bedside. He looked as if he'd aged ten years during the… well, during however long she had been unconscious for.

She tried to sit up, reaching for him, but her ribs disapproved and so did he. He scolded her gently, and she silently made a vague prediction that he would probably be mollycoddling her even more than Molly Weasley – quite the feat. Or maybe she had actually voiced that thought aloud instead of merely thinking it (she couldn't really be sure… it had to be all the potions no doubt coursing through her system), because he smiled – but it was strained.

His smiles always, always met his eyes. So despite the pain and Merlin-knew-what concoctions fogging her mind, she knew something was wrong.

She was afraid to ask… But then again, she had always been morbidly curious.

Ever since she had awoken she had felt her torso aching and head pounding, but until his answer she thought her lungs were fine. At his words, she could have sworn the air left them. Had she fallen down those stairs all over again? It certainly felt like it.

She didn't know what to say. Words of comfort weren't exactly her forte – she could toss out a bawdy joke or pithy comment at a moment's notice, but what exactly did you say to a man who had lost the last of his best friends for the second time? Anything she could think of seemed like a meaningless platitude.

She'd never been one to subscribe to that old adage of actions speaking louder than words (if that were true, what sorts of unpleasant things did her clumsiness scream?), but now seemed the time to test it.

Opening her arms as wide as she could, she silently beckoned him to her. The grateful expression on his face actually managed to lift her spirits slightly. So did his arms wrapping gingerly around her, as tender and mindful as if she were some fragile figurine. Physically, that was probably appropriate; but emotionally, he seemed like the one on the verge of shattering.

She had broken her share of things over the years. A simple Reparo worked wonders on ceramics and crockery, but what could be said to piece together a crumbling man? Nothing came to mind; so she merely wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could, ignoring the protestations her injuries gave.

The physical aches and pains all seemed so inconsequential now… Yes, she hurt – but now she hurt for him.

So, some reviews sure would ease my transition back into the writing world! ;) Anybody kind enough to comment gets a Remus they can squeeze and comfort to their heart's content…

Toodles,

- ish -