Carry You Over To A New Morning

He was dreaming of music.

It sounded like colours, vibrant, red-blue-yellow-purple, and he heard the dark bass of a cello, and the sharp thrill of a flute, and a hint of piano music, notes thundering in a dazzling scale that soared up and up and up and up, out of his reach, but it was surrounding him, and he was hot and cold, but it was perfect –

Until he was suddenly awake, the dream forgotten and the music fading into nothingness. The room was filled with a blindingly white light, which flooded his eyes, overwhelming them. He squeezed them shut again in protest, but it was of no use; the light pricked through easily. A headache pounded, softly, at the back of his brain. He reluctantly opened his eyes again and, ever so slowly, they adjusted to the room.

At the same time, the noise of a conversation that he had been aware of while sleeping, but had not really been listening to, was turned up, almost gradually, as if he was listening to Mrs Pritchard tuning the wireless she kept in the Staff's Tea Room. Slowly, he came to recognise that it was his mother's voice that he was hearing, soft and Welsh.

'Mum?' he said, and then there she was, a vision of beauty, her soft russet hair falling over her shoulders in waves. She grabbed his hand. Everything felt a bit blurry.

'Remus,' she breathed. 'Oh, what a perfectly ghastly thing to happen! We've been so worried. How are you feeling now?'

'All right. Bit of a headache,' Remus said, because it was there, beating joyfully behind his eyes. 'And a fever, I think.' He sat up, back against the pillows, with some effort.

'I'm so sorry, darling, I wouldn't know. We weren't told anything,' she said, her eyes bright, bright blue, framed by thick, mascara-coated lashes. He'd never seen his mother without her make-up on. Once, he had woken up in the middle of the night and snuck into his parents' bedroom. She'd woken up at the sound of the door creaking, and had told him to wait outside. She had then appeared some time later, her face perfectly made-up, her hair neatly combed, and had only then pulled him into bed.

'I know,' Remus said, attempting a smile. 'I asked them not to.'

'We are your parents,' his mother said, resentfully, 'we should know what's going on.'

'Mum,' he said calmly, squeezing her hand, 'I didn't want to worry you if it wasn't necessary. I'm sure everything's absolutely fine.'

She sat down on his bed, her robes, although patched, perfectly neat and starched. It was then Remus noticed that his father was there, too. Lyall Lupin was watching the two of them, stood at the foot of Remus's bed, his hands clasped over the metal frame. He was quiet, but it was inevitable that he would say something; he did not approve of a lot of things, and being sick was one of them. Remus remembered, one time, catching a cold while they were on holiday, and his father had sent him up to his room in the cabin they were renting. He was only allowed downstairs again after he was feeling better, which took the better part of three days.

He knew his parents loved him, really. His mother had been only seventeen and fresh out of Hogwarts when they were married, while his father had been much older and was already working for the Ministry. She'd wanted to work at Gladrags Wizardwear, designing robes. But then, within a year, she fell pregnant. Hope Lupin had always, only, looked forward in life, and forgot about her dreams, throwing herself into motherhood. So while his father worked hard for the family, his mother stayed at home, raising Remus. His mother's family wasn't very well off, and his father's family - despite owning some modest houses all over England - did not have very much of it, either. All in all, his parents had been taught by their parents to be a mother and a father, and that was exactly what they were to him.

'It doesn't sound like you're absolutely fine, Remus,' his father said, eventually. 'Or you wouldn't be in hospital.'

Remus, wisely, said nothing.

At that moment, the door opened, and Healer Martin stepped into the room. Her skin had an ashy tone to it, but her hair was pulled back into a perfect, neat bun at the nape of her neck, and she looked otherwise like she did the last time he'd seen her. She met Remus's eyes over the magical parchment and smiled, brightly, grabbing the parchment in one hand and stepping forward, towards the bed.

'Mr and Mrs Lupin,' she addressed his parents. 'Thank you for coming in. I hope you've had a good Christmas.'

'Oh, it was delightful,' his mother said, and she was smiling. 'Thank you. I do hope yours was the same. You must be Healer Martin.'

'Yes,' Martin responded, cheerfully, but Remus wasn't fooled; Martin's eyes kept glancing at the parchment in her hands as if she was checking something, and he knew it was coming before she said it. His stomach dropped.

'We're going to run a few more tests,' Martin said brightly, which meant, we're guessing, at this point. 'So I'm going to need you to step out of the room, Mr and Mrs Lupin. Standard procedure, I'm afraid.'

'Of course,' his mother said, but there was something petulant in her tone. Somehow, she had never lost her childish naiveté, which was perhaps one of the reasons Remus felt protective of her, and didn't go into too much detail when discussing his job, or his life. Somehow, he didn't think she could handle very much. As if by unspoken agreement, his father did the same.

His mother leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Remus's feverish brow. 'I love you,' she whispered, and then pulled away, stepping towards his father. She looked distraught. When she reached Lyall, he slung an arm over her shoulder in an uncharacteristic display of affection, and steered her out of the room. He didn't look back.

Martin smiled at him, a little too bright, and murmured a spell, her wand touching his temple. He felt a heat flood his mind as she administered spells and enchantments. He tried very hard to remain still as she moved her wand over his face, his ears, his eyes, all the while asking him questions about how he had been sleeping (fine), if he'd been very stressed at work (not really), and if he had felt nauseous (no). He didn't know if he was being helpful, but he did really try.

Healer Martin pulled away, eventually, an unreadable look on her face, and told him that they were going to monitor him, just until they knew what was wrong. She left Remus, then, and his parents came back into the room to say goodbye. His mother was a bit tearful, but tactfully didn't ask about Valerie, which he appreciated. His father clapped him on the shoulder, hard, and then they left.

Three days. He'd been in here for three days. The inability to do anything was starting to grate on his nerves. So was the fact that no one, apparently, had any clue as to what was wrong with him. As the hours passed, very slowly, he half-expected Martin to come in and tell him what the tests had been for, but she didn't. Marlene and Alice visited him on their lunch break, sharing a sandwich with him, but even they could tell him nothing.

At the end of the day, he fell asleep alone. He was none the wiser, and ever so frustrated.

He awoke, feeling himself being pulled from sleep carefully, which was a feeling he had grown unaccustomed to, what with all the Sleeping Draughts they had been administering him. When he opened his eyes, he became aware, quite quickly, that he was not alone. He turned to his side, slowly, sluggishly, his limbs sleepy. Sirius was sitting on a chair next to his bed, his incredible grey eyes wide as they surveyed him.

His hand was lying close to Remus's on the bed, the tips of his fingers stained faintly with black ink. Their fingers were almost touching.

If Remus had been fully in control of his limbs, he would've probably jumped up. As it was, he simply made a shocked, chocking sound at the back of his throat, which somehow amused Sirius, because he grinned broadly, and touched his fingers to Remus's wrist, a fragile, carefully soft touch.

'Hello,' said Sirius. His voice was smooth and low, and something in Remus's stomach hitched at the sound.

'Hi,' Remus responded, surprised. 'What are you – how did you know I was –'

'Marlene told James's mum,' said Sirius. 'I overheard.'

'I thought you were at Hogwarts for Christmas hols?' Remus wondered, his voice sounding rough and slightly sleepy.

Sirius gave him a splendid grin in reply.

'You snuck out to visit the Potters?' Remus guessed.

Sirius's grin widened, just the slightest bit.

'Are you ever at school?' Remus asked, but it was fond, and not even half as chastising as he'd intended it.

'Yes,' Sirius responded, quite honestly. 'Ask McGonagall. She'd rather I wasn't, or so she says. She loves me, really.'

Remus shook his head, amused. He felt nonetheless, a bit inexplicably, glad to see Sirius sitting here, at his bed. Their fingers were still lying close, almost touching, and it made Remus aware of his hands, and of how sleep-rumpled he must look. Then, he wondered why he cared.

'Sorry,' he said, softly. 'I'm not very good at this.'

'Talking, you mean? You're doing just fine. With a bit of practise, you'll be all right,' Sirius said, with that charming grin still on his face.

Remus snorted and then, without really meaning to, glanced down at their hands again. As if reading his thoughts, Sirius's fingers reached out, and linked them together, squeezing softly. It felt comforting.

'Thanks,' Remus said, without looking up.

'You must hate being here, not know what's going on,' Sirius said.

'Yes,' Remus admitted. 'I think I'm better at being a Healer than at being a patient. I don't really know what's wrong. I don't think the hospital knows, either. It's been a few days. Maybe they're deciding the best way to tell me that I'm dying,' he added, jokingly.

He didn't know why he'd said that. It had come out of his mouth without intention; a thought turned into words he didn't realise he'd been thinking until he spoke them. He also didn't know why he said them to Sirius, who stared at him, affronted.

'Of course not you're not dying! Don't be stupid,' he said, vehemently.

In response, Remus only raised his eyebrows.

'What?' Sirius demanded. 'You'll be fine. Twat,' he added.

And suddenly, Remus realised that that's why he'd said it. Because he knew that Sirius would respond this way, and it was endlessly better, and more comforting, than Martin's courteous bedside manner, and Marlene's vague promises, and Alice's gentle concern, and his mother's remarks over how dreadful it all really was. This felt real. And he felt, somehow, reassured that he was going to be just fine.

He almost laughed. A seventeen-year-old boy told him he was fine, and he was so – well, he didn't know exactly what he was, because he had no idea what earth he was doing even talking to the boy – but he was reassured and felt calm, for the first time since he'd woken up in hospital. And he did very much appreciate that.

'You know, you're really awful at consoling sick people,' Remus said, but he was smiling.

Sirius grinned back at him. 'That's all right. I've no intention of becoming a Healer, anyway.'

Remus surveyed him critically. 'Auror?' he guessed. Sirius pulled a face, which made him laugh. 'Not a Ministry man?'

'Definitely not,' Sirius said. 'I thought, maybe, I'd like to be a Cursebreaker. It sounds really cool.'

'Fabian and Gideon Prewett have just finished training to be Cursebreakers,' Remus said, thoughtfully, sitting up in the bed so he could look at Sirius more clearly. 'I could ask if they've got time to meet with you.'

A funny look came over Sirius's face. 'Are you joking?' he asked, and his voice was pitched, torn between shock and incredulity.

'Er, no,' said Remus, frowning slightly, wondering if he'd overstepped the mark. 'Sorry, is that –'

'Can I bring James?' Sirius said, his mouth twitching up into a smile and there was, again, that dimple in his cheek.

'Why?' Remus asked, confused. 'Does he want to be a Cursebreaker, too?'

Sirius's grin was wide, and wicked. 'No,' he said, but didn't elaborate further. 'Did I tell you about that prank we pulled at Hallowe'en? McGonagall was furious. She almost had us all expelled.'

Remus's eyebrows rose up to his hairline, and he was curious despite himself. 'Really? Do tell.'

'I should go,' Sirius said.

Remus, who had been in the middle of eating dinner, looked up at him in surprise. But then his eyes found the watch that Sirius was wearing, silver and handsome, and read that it was nearly seven. It would be hard for Sirius to sneak back into the castle, now. Immediately, Remus felt guilty.

'Yes, of course,' he said, putting his knife and fork down upon the plate. In response, the plate, and the silver tray that it had been lying on, disappeared with a faint 'pop!' off his lap. 'Sorry. I keep forgetting –'

He stopped himself, realising he didn't know how to finish this sentence, so he simply didn't. He just watched as Sirius got up and put on his winter cloak, which Remus noticed for the first time had been folded, neatly, over the foot of Remus's bed. He put his scarlet and gold Gryffindor scarf over it, knotting it carefully. If he was wearing it, it must be cold out. And then, Sirius was stood very close to him, giving him a smile that was slow and secretive, as he leaned forward.

At that moment, the door swung open. Remus, startled by the sound, turned to look at who was there.

'Valerie!' he said, and it sounded as surprised as he felt.

She wore stunning robes of green that Remus had never seen before. When she stepped further into the room, shutting the door softly behind her, Remus could see that her silvery blonde hair was elegantly braided, a few tendrils sneaking out and framing her face. He could smell her perfume, familiar and comforting, as she walked towards him. When she reached the bed, worry evident in her soft brown eyes, she took his hand.

'Remus,' she said, simple, and loving, and caring.

And as soon as she'd said it, Remus realised that Sirius was still there.

When he turned his head to look at him, he saw that Sirius had drawn back, his shoulders taut, making him look tall and vaguely threatening. He was looking at Valerie with a carefully blank, polite expression.

'Black,' Valerie said, and her voice sounded surprised, but polite.

'Glassborow,' Sirius said, with a nod. 'I was just leaving.'

'Yes,' Valerie responded, as sharp as ever, 'I imagine Hogwarts will want you back.'

With a shrug, Sirius turned to Remus. 'I'll see you around,' he said, eventually, and then left the room without as much as a glance backwards.

Valerie looked after him until the door shut behind him, and then she turned to Remus, a look of surprise on her face. 'I didn't know you knew Sirius Black.'

And just like that, with sharp intensity, Remus's worlds collided.

Author's Note: When I wrote this story, it was unknown whether or not Remus was a pureblood, and I figured the only way Mrs Black would let him near her son would be if he was. So, I kept him like that, and altered his parents' storylines to reflect it.

In other news, this was such a beast of a chapter to write, I do really hope you'll like it! And thank you very much for all your reviews so far, they mean so much to me.