A/N: Shame, shame, shame on me for taking so long between updates once again. Despite not even taking a full course load, my final year of university has been rather hectic. However, 'tis the holiday season, so not only do I have a bit of time to write, but I feel I should offer up a little gift! So here we are, a little piece that will hopefully get the muses warmed up – and hopefully put a smile on your faces.

Strangeways, Here We Come

Aftermath…

It wasn't the process of turning into the wolf that frightened him; rather, it was turning back into a man. Becoming the wolf was the same each time – there would be pain, and then he would remember no more. However, becoming a man once again was not as habitual, for without Wolfsbane Potion there was absolutely no telling what he may have done while transformed.

It was the aftermath that was the worst, Remus was sure. Future moons could only be dealt with through a sense of inevitability; but past moons were dwelt upon, and were made all the more salient by the injuries and wounds that would be left behind.

It used to be his parents who would heal him afterwards; once they were gone, he took over the task. He had learned the basic first aid spells from watching them performed each month, and he always managed to adequately patch himself back up.

Perhaps it had been a source of pride for him, Remus mused. He had been able to survive on his own, without asking for help; he had maintained some sense of dignity while in perhaps the most undignified of positions, naked and bleeding on a cold, damp floor.

But, as he had been so forcefully reminded, all men had their undignified moments. That he had accepted his fate so bravely and unflinchingly was truly dignified, Tonks had told him – it certainly made up for a few moments of nudity.

He hadn't wished for her to see him that way, of course, but she hadn't been swayed by his protests. "You know I just can't pass up seeing you starkers, can I?" she had winked cheekily.

The first time she had come following a moon, Remus had been terse. Or, as she charmingly put it, "A bit of a git" – and she'd been right. He hadn't wanted her there, he hadn't wanted her to see him at one of his lowest points when he tried so very hard to only show her the good.

She, on the other hand, had been brilliant. She had cleaned the blood off him with her best Scourgify ever, and easily went about mending his cuts and gashes with the many healing spells in her Auror-trained arsenal. He had been tucked into bed before he even knew it.

Despite his insistences that she didn't need to do so, she was with him again the very next month, and the one after that, and the one after that. It became a routine before he was even aware of it.

Each time his objections dwindled. Each time reawakening as a human became slightly easier, because each time she was the first thing his bleary eyes saw.

And now, as Remus lay still on the floor, listening to the sound of combat boots clomping down the stairs towards him, he realized that it had been silly to think it was all about pride. It wasn't a matter of feeling pitied, or babied…

It was a matter of feeling loved.

Reviewers can feel free to nurse Remus back to health! Or they can get Remus to nurse them, if that's what they'd prefer… ;)

Toodles,

- ish -