Carry You Over To A New Morning
Sirius kissed him back eagerly, pressing his body forward and pushing Remus back against the counter. His arms were on either side of Remus, resting on the counter top. Remus's eyes fluttered shut and he wondered, not for the first time, what on earth he was doing. When it came to Sirius, it felt like he wasn't really in control of what he said or did, and he wasn't sure he liked it very much. But, he thought, as Sirius's lips moved against his roughly, he also didn't really mind.
'Oh,' said Sirius, breaking the kiss unexpectedly, and looking at him with enlarged pupils, the black nearly eclipsing the grey in his eyes.
Remus didn't say anything, simply looking at him, his hands pressed awkwardly against his sides, trapped beneath Sirius's arms, which were still pressed against the counter top.
Sirius was looking at him searchingly, and then slowly, very slowly, as if giving Remus time to change his mind, leaned forward and pressed their lips together in another kiss. His grey eyes never left Remus's, who felt himself flush at the intimacy in those eyes, and then his eyes shut, and he gave himself over to just feeling.
He didn't know how long they spent kissing, bodies pressed tightly together, warmth rushing between them. He could feel, faintly, Sirius's racing heartbeat against his chest, and some of Sirius's fingers running through his hair, gently urging his face closer to Sirius's, as if it could get any closer. It vaguely seemed like Sirius was attempting, somehow, to blend their bodies together into one.
Eventually, one of them broke the kiss, and Remus realised that his fingers had laced together with Sirius's, and were pressed against one of the upper cabinets. He didn't know how they had gotten there, or who had done that. It was all pleasant and slightly blurry, his breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling, catching Sirius's chest on the way up.
Sirius laughed, then, a breathy sound. He pulled his hand away from where it was entwined with Remus's and leant his head on Remus's shoulder. Remus followed him, pulling his hand away from the wooden cabinet and flexing his fingers, running them carefully through Sirius's hair, which was soft. Sirius grinned up at him, and kissed him again, and again, and again.
'I should get back,' Sirius said against Remus's neck, sometime later – minutes, hours, days, Remus wasn't sure.
He nodded numbly, reluctantly pulling away. Sirius was smiling up at him, his cheeks flushed and his hair slightly tousled. One of the buttons of his white oxford had disappeared, although Remus couldn't explain how exactly that had happened, revealing the skin underneath.
Remus's own shirt had been pulled up to somewhere up his midriff, Sirius's fingers pressed warmly against the skin, and when Sirius pulled back, he could suddenly feel the cold breeze that blew in from the kitchen window, which he'd neglected to close. His dinner stood, cold, behind him, and he tugged at the fabric of his shirt, letting it fall back down.
'Yes,' Remus said, even though it hadn't really been required. In reply, Sirius kissed his neck, just where his jaw met his ear, and he felt his eyes flutter shut off their own accord.
When his eyes opened, Sirius had left him, and was pulling on his coat with a kind of reluctance. Remus turned and closed the window, which was making him shiver. Then he went into the living room, where Sirius was now standing, bundled up neatly against the cold.
'Thanks for the Christmas card,' Remus said, for want of something to say.
The smile Sirius gave him was brilliant, and slightly conspiring around the edges. 'Thought you would,' he said, nodding, as if praising himself for a job well done.
'Happy Christmas, Sirius,' Remus said.
'Happy Christmas, Remus. See you around,' Sirius responded, grinning broadly. He squeezed Remus's forearm, and then was gone with a sharp crack of Disapparation.
Remus sank down upon the sofa, staring absently at the place Sirius had been standing just seconds before. For some reason, he was unable to stop smiling.
When he woke up, it took him a few seconds to become aware of the searing, complaining pain in his head, which felt remarkably like fruity red wine gone really, really wrong. He squeezed his eye shut again, but to no avail; he was already awake. He rolled over in the bed with some effort, and tried to piece together what happened yesterday, his eyes staring, unseeing, at the wall. Valerie had left him, he remembered, and then he'd run into Marlene and Jo, and then he'd opened presents and then –
He sat upright, and regretted it instantly, because it was far too quickly for his head to deal with, and his vision spun. Sirius. Sirius had Apparated into his flat and Remus had been stupid and kissed him. God, he was such an idiot. There was really no reason for him to start kissing the poor boy, no matter how much he had wanted to. Sirius hadn't seemed to mind very much, though, which maybe was a whole different thing to think about. Right now, Remus thought, once his vision finally stopped spinning, he just needed the bathroom.
He stumbled across the flat, past the coffee table, which bore two empty bottle of wine (had he really gone through two bottles?) and a wine glass, and the remnants of his dinner, which he vaguely recalled eating at two in the morning. The bathroom tiles were cold, for which he was grateful, and he hadn't got there a moment too soon; he was sick into the toilet.
His vision spun again as he flushed without raising his head, the porcelain lid feeling cool and soothing against his feverish brow. It had been a while since he'd been that sick from alcohol, although this, somehow, had felt remarkably like something else. Which was silly, really; what else would he be sick of?
He got up, having to steady himself against the wall, and gingerly made his way back to the living room.
Better start cleaning this up, he thought, his fingers finding the neck of the wine bottle on the coffee table, and clasping it, firmly. He grabbed the glass and the other bottle in his other hand, the plate balancing dangerously on his forearm, and made his way to the kitchen.
Afterwards, he would never really be able to explain what happened, because it happened so very quickly. The plate overbalanced, unexpectedly, and he had to sway on his feet to accommodate it. His head started spinning at the sudden movement, warmness thumping against his skull, making him drowsy.
He was dimly aware of the shattering of glass as the bottles hit the floor one by one; slipping from his fingers as if he'd lost control of them. Oddly, he also felt himself falling, his vision blurring. His head felt really light, and he murmured something in alarm, although he couldn't really understand what it was, because the sound came from far away. By the time he hit the floor, the plate clattering noisily onto the kitchen tiles, he had lost consciousness.
When he woke up, the room was unnecessarily bright, and he was in a bed in a room he didn't immediately recognise. When his eyes adjusted, Alice's face swam into view, pinched with worry and another emotion Remus wasn't sure he could read. She met his eyes, and let out a sigh that might have been relief, clutching his hand.
'Remus,' she said, simply.
Remus sat up, a bit awkwardly. He became aware of the heavy sting of blood being drawn out of his upturned arm, almost awkwardly, and felt suddenly lightheaded. 'I fainted?' he asked, because that was what it had felt like, even though that had never happened to him before. He remembered, however, reading about the effects.
Alice nodded, squeezing his hand gently. 'Marlene had sent me an owl, saying Valerie had left you, and that you were all alone. So I Apparated to the flat to invite you to lunch, and you were lying in the kitchen, completely out of it, glass everywhere. You didn't even respond when I called your name.'
Remus hissed when another prick of a needle penetrated his skin and looked at his arm. A wand was dutifully collecting vials of his blood, marking them magically with his name once they were full. From the looks of it, three had already been filled, and a fourth was well on its way.
He felt feverish, he thought, lying back on the bed he now realised was in St Mungo's. Alice was sat on his bed and, behind her, he could see Marlene, who looked tired and extremely guilty.
'It's not your fault,' Remus told her, because he knew her quite well, and she winced, visibly.
'It is,' she insisted, standing up. 'I shouldn't have left you. I knew you weren't well.'
Remus's eyebrow rose as, with a pop, the last vial of blood detached itself from his body, and disappeared alongside the others. The wand fell limply to the bed, its job done. 'Did you?' he asked Marlene. 'I didn't.'
'That's because you're about as perceptive as a foot,' Marlene said, snottily.
Remus snorted and, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alice smiling. 'Thanks,' Remus responded, dryly.
'Well, it's true,' Marlene said, sitting down on the other side of the bed, and looking down at him. 'You've been having headaches for months now.'
Remus stared. 'That's why you took me here? Because I've got headaches?' he asked, incredulously.
Alice squeezed his hand again. 'No,' she said, honestly. 'I took you here because you were running a massive fever and you weren't responsive when I tried to revive you with magic. Marlene only mentioned the headaches when I Floo'd her. Now we're just trying to rule out if the two things are related.'
Remus nodded, resentment still pinging a bit in his chest. 'Would've been nice if you'd asked,' he said, looking around the room for the first time, and recognising it as a private, out-care patient room, although it wasn't one he had used before. The window showed a view of a deserted beach, the sand almost blindingly white, the ocean lapping gently at the shore. It seemed out of place, it being Christmas, and all. This must be an infrequently used room; Remus knew there were rooms that had winter landscapes.
'You weren't really in a position to answer, though, were you,' countered Marlene. 'Can you tell us what happened after I left?'
'I drank some wine,' Remus said, his brow furrowing. 'I had a bottle, I think, and some chocolate bonbons. Oh,' he added, as an afterthought, 'And chicken.' There was a pause as he tried to recall the rest. 'Unwrapped presents. Woke up the next morning feeling hungover, was sick, and then, presumably, fainted and was brought here.'
He remembered, also, Sirius, but he didn't think that was appropriate to bring up.
'A day ago,' Marlene supplied, helpfully.
'I've been out for an entire day?' Remus demanded, feeling control slip out of his fingertips with a hint of panic. That wasn't normal. His brain felt hazy and thick, but he tried to think, nonetheless, of what this might mean. He forced himself to look at this case as if he was one of his own patients, even though the very thought made him slightly queasy.
Headaches, he summed up in his mind, thoughtfully. Headaches at regular intervals, varying in intensity. Being sick, and passing out unexpectedly. He closed his eyes, trying to recall pages and pages of textbooks that weren't necessarily related to spell damage, but to magical maladies, which he had never been too interested in. He could think of nothing. Resentfully, he opened his eyes again.
At that moment, the door opened, and Healer Martin stepped into the room. She glanced up at the bed and smiled at him over the magical parchment that popped up in front of her. 'All right, Lupin?' she asked, cheerfully, as if Remus hadn't walked in on her and Marlene just two days ago.
'I suppose,' Remus responded, a bit sulkily. He was never really good at being sick. It wasn't something he cared for, and something he avoided, if he could help it.
Alice and Marlene had stood up from the bed, Alice squeezing his hand once more, as Martin stepped closer to it, her eyes still focused on the parchment. When she came to the bed, she was still smiling.
'We're still running tests,' she said, 'but I have some ideas of what this might be.'
'Do share,' Remus said, dryly.
The smile she gave him was infuriatingly patient. He hoped that wasn't what he looked like while he was treating patients.
'Not until I'm absolutely certain,' she responded, loftily. 'In the meantime, I suggest you get some sleep, Lupin.'
'I just woke up after two days of sleeping!' Remus said, incredulously.
'No,' Martin responded, patiently. 'I woke you up on purpose to check if you could recall what had happened. Now, I need you to go back to sleep.'
The wand that had been laying idly on Remus's bed flew up into her hand, and the beach in the window started smudging, becoming an odd blend of white and blue. Remus, who knew that she must've given him some sort of Sleeping Draught earlier, felt helpless, as sleep pressed against him urgently.
The last thing he saw before it overcame him was Alice's smile, which was motherly and comforting, her hand pressed warmly against his arm.
Someone was saying his name, rather urgently, and Remus felt himself being pulled from sleep, almost as if by force. It was unpleasant, and made him groggy, as he opened his eyes. They found and focused on Martin, who was stood, leaning over him.
'Listen,' she said, and Remus tried his very best to do just that. 'Your intracranial pressure is extremely high, Lupin. We don't know what's causing it, and we'll need to run some more tests. Until then, I need you to go back to sleep, all right? Just to be on the safe side. I've already informed your parents of your being here.'
Intracranial pressure, Remus thought vaguely. It was the last thing he was conscious of, before sleep overcame him like a wave, and his thoughts faded into nothingness.
Author's Note: To those who predicted this might happen - you're very clever, indeed!