The rain had not let up for hours, a cold, unrelenting downpour that seemed to echo the weariness that gripped Remus's very soul. He had been away with the packs, a futile attempt to convince them not to fall under Voldemort's sway. The full moon had passed five days ago, leaving him raw and weakened, but it was more than that. The flu, which had been passed from one wolf to another while he had been with them, had latched onto him as well, adding to the physical misery that weighed him down.

His thoughts, however, were on something deeper than the ache in his body. It was Halloween. Sirius had been gone for months now, and the loss of Lily and James hung in the air like a ghostly presence. Their deaths had always been a painful memory, but tonight—on the anniversary of their murders—it felt unbearable. He carried the weight of it all in his heart, a heart that felt heavy and bound, as if shackled by grief, as the rest of the world moved on.

Remus stumbled up the path to his childhood home, now more a wreckage than a place of comfort. The roof leaked, the walls were crumbling in places where magic had failed, and the entire structure seemed to groan under the strain of decades of use. It had never been a place of ease, but it was his—left to him by his parents. But even now, it felt like a burden. His body was soaked, his limbs aching with fever and exhaustion, yet he couldn't summon the energy to cast even the simplest of drying charms. He simply let the rain seep into him, cold and relentless, like his own thoughts.

"I'm so tired…" he muttered under his breath as he pushed the door open, the hinges creaking. He entered the house, his shoes squelching on the worn wooden floor, and he didn't bother to take off his dripping coat. His mind was too foggy, too consumed by a feverish haze and the deep ache of grief that gnawed at him.

The bed was where he ended up, collapsing onto it without pulling back the covers. His body trembled slightly, not just from the cold but from the weight of everything he carried. The house around him seemed to reflect his state—ruined, decaying, neglected. My home is a wreckage… just like me.

Remus shivered, his limbs heavy and fever burning behind his eyes, but no comfort came. The cottage was quiet, save for the sound of rain hitting the roof. He thought about Sirius, his death still a fresh wound, leaving a hollow emptiness in his heart. He thought about Lily and James, their absence, their loss. And he thought about the packs, the wolves who teetered on the edge of choosing the darkness.

Sirius… He would be all over him already, taking care of him. Remus missed him so much.

His body was exhausted, his soul weary, and as the fever took hold, his thoughts became muddled. The room seemed to spin slightly, his vision blurring as his chest tightened with a cough. He pulled at the blanket half-heartedly, trying to cover himself, but even that was too much effort.

"Merlin…" Remus mumbled, his voice hoarse as he lay there, barely conscious. "Is there anyone who would even care if…?" He didn't quite know care about what, nor was it a question he expected an answer to. His parents were gone. His friends were gone. And now, soaked, sick, and feverish, it felt like he was truly alone.

Dora . A small part of him thought of her. She would want to help, but she was likely at work at the DMLE or on an Order mission. Remus, half-delirious from fever, dismissed the thought. He didn't want to be a bother, though the idea barely penetrated his consciousness through the haze to begin with.

As the fever pulled him further into delirium, Remus's mind continued to swirl with thoughts of what had been and what was lost. He could hear the rain against the roof, but it was distant, like an echo. His body was shivering uncontrollably, but his limbs felt heavy and numb.

As he drifted toward sleep, the last conscious thought that flickered in his mind was the hope—faint as it was—that maybe, somehow, he wouldn't wake up feeling so terribly alone.

Remus awoke to the sensation of soft hands brushing gently against his forehead, and for a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. The fever had left his mind muddled, his body heavy, and he struggled to open his eyes. When he finally blinked himself awake, he found Dora standing above him, concern etched into every line of her face.

"Why do you insist on being such a stubborn, idiot wolf?" she admonished lightly, though her tone was soft as she assessed the state he was in.

Before Remus could answer, a thick, wet sneeze overtook him, the force of it catching him off guard. "Huh… hh'ktschhOO!" He angled it toward the pillow, not wanting to aim it in her direction.

Almost immediately, a handkerchief was shoved into his hand, and Remus, too foggy and disoriented to say thank you, used it to blow his nose, trying to gather his thoughts.

After a few moments of blinking, he finally managed to ask, "How did you know I was here?"

"Monitoring charm on the door," Tonks explained, her voice soft but laced with concern, her eyes scanning his fevered form. "I wasn't sure when you'd be back from your mission, but I had a feeling you wouldn't reach out. You always withdraw when you go off to the werewolves." Her gaze moved around the shabby room before returning to Remus, filled with worry. "I didn't expect to find you like this, though."

Remus sighed weakly, unable to deny the truth in her words. He always distanced himself after returning from the packs, retreating into isolation to deal with the weight of those missions. But even through the haze of fever, he felt an immense sense of gratitude that Tonks had found him—despite his efforts to pull away.

"What happened?" she asked, her brow furrowing with deeper concern.

"Flu… going around the camp," Remus rasped, his voice strained with the effort of speaking.

Tonks's frown deepened, and without another word, she carefully pulled him up into a sitting position. The movement immediately triggered a deep, rattling cough from his chest, the sound reverberating through the room like the echo of a heavy burden. It was the kind of cough that spoke of sickness far more serious than a simple cold.

Tonks winced as she watched him struggle to catch his breath, her worry growing. Her fingers brushed lightly against his back, rubbing in small, soothing circles. "You can't stay here like this," she murmured, her voice firmer now, though the underlying affection was unmistakable.

Once he managed to stop coughing, shook his head weakly. "I don't have anywhere else to go," he muttered, his voice thick with congestion. With Sirius's death, Grimmauld Place was no longer a safehouse for the Order. There was uncertainty around the ownership, and the risk of using it was too great.

"You're coming home with me," Tonks replied, not leaving room for argument. "Mum will sort you out. She works in St. Mungo's, you know."

Remus sluggishly recalled that yes, Andromeda Tonks was a Healer. He also remembered, with a pang of grief, that she was a Black, Sirius's cousin. That thought made his heart constrict painfully, stirring up memories he didn't have the strength to confront just then.

Before he could say anything in response, another sneezing fit hit him. "Hh… hh'ITSCHhh! Huh'ngktSHH! Huhhh… HUH'tscHOO!" The force of the sneezes left him dizzy, his already fragile sense of balance slipping as he swayed, nearly falling back onto the bed.

Tonks steadied him quickly, her grip firm. "You're coming with me," she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument this time. Remus could only nod, too exhausted to resist.

Tonks hoisted Remus up, an arm slipping securely beneath his armpit and around his back, trying her best to steady him. He was in no shape to Apparate on his own—barely able to keep himself upright, she wouldn't even be confident in letting him use the loo on his own. It was a slow, painstaking process to get him out of the cottage, Remus leaning heavily against her, his legs barely supporting him.

At least the rain had stopped, and the early morning sun was beginning to peek through the clouds on the horizon, casting a faint light over the landscape. The air smelled damp, the fresh scent of rain lingering as they stepped outside.

With a tight grip on Remus, Tonks prepared for the Side-Along Apparition, and in the next moment, they were off. The sickening lurch that accompanied the magical means of transportation hit Remus hard, twisting his stomach in knots. As soon as they arrived at the Tonks' home, the world spun around him. Remus barely had a moment to catch his breath before he doubled over, a violent coughing fit wracking his body. The strain of it was too much, and before he knew it, he was throwing up, his body shaking with the force of it.

Tonks didn't flinch. She quickly steadied him again, her face tight with concern but her hands comforting, ready to take care of him as best as she could. "Easy, easy," she murmured, rubbing circles on his back as he struggled to regain his breath. "You're alright now. We'll get you sorted."

The sharp crack of the Apparition echoed through the quiet morning air, immediately alerting Andromeda Tonks inside her home. She rushed to the door, stepping outside to see who had arrived. The moment she laid eyes on Remus, barely standing with Tonks supporting his weight, her Healer instincts kicked in without hesitation.

"Merlin, what happened?" Andromeda's voice was calm but urgent as she quickly moved toward them, assessing Remus's state with the practised eye of a professional. His pale, sweat-soaked face, the way his body trembled with exhaustion, and the slight rattle in his chest told her enough. Fever, chest infection, dehydration, and likely severe exhaustion.

"We need to get him inside," Andromeda said firmly, taking charge as she helped guide Remus the rest of the way into the house. Her hands were gentle but efficient, taking stock of him. "He's burning up."

Tonks, still holding onto Remus, nodded. "Flu's been going around the wolves. Plus, he's just five days post-moon."

Andromeda's lips thinned as she took it all in, her Healer instincts kicking in immediately. "Let's get him to bed, and then we'll get him sorted." She guided them further inside, her mind already running through the possible treatments and potions to bring Remus back from his weakened state.

"No potions…" Remus mumbled almost incoherently as they more dragged than guided him up the stairs to a bedroom.

Andromeda frowned in confusion, but Tonks quickly understood. "The aconite, Mum. He can't take most of the things you'd give to a regular patient," she explained as they helped Remus sit on the edge of the bed. Without missing a beat, Tonks began undressing him from his still slightly damp clothes.

Tonks wanted to scold him, to berate him for not even doing the bare minimum to take care of himself, but she had a sinking suspicion that this wasn't just the fever. Since Sirius's death, Remus had been on a self-destructive path, and with the anniversary of the Potters' death just the night before, she could only imagine the mental and emotional state he was in.

"Damn it," Andromeda cursed under her breath, uncharacteristically for someone raised as an aristocratic Black. It wasn't often that she was caught off guard, but the frustration of not knowing how best to help Remus hit her. They didn't get many werewolf patients at St. Mungo's, and when they did, it was usually for injuries. Her training hadn't covered werewolf physiology in her time, whether by negligence or some deliberate decision to put this marginalised group at greater risk, she couldn't be sure.

Seeing her mother's momentary loss, Tonks quickly offered, "I'll go to the pharmacy, get some muggle medicine. Dad usually keeps some around, but I think we're out."

Andromeda, who normally regarded her husband's eccentric preference for muggle remedies with fond exasperation, was grateful now that Tonks had paid attention to what was what in that regard. "Yes, that would be best," she said, handing over a thick, flannel pyjama top so Tonks could dress Remus before he caught even more of a chill. She found his lack of response to anything happening around him worrying.

When it came time to help with his trousers, Andromeda gently but firmly shooed Tonks out to take care of the pharmacy run. She wouldn't tolerate any impropriety in her home, especially knowing how smitten her daughter was with the werewolf.

Once Tonks was gone, Andromeda finished getting Remus settled into bed, tucking the blankets around his feverish body. She then proceeded to run a series of diagnostic charms over him, her brow furrowing as the results appeared. Fever of 39.5, pneumonia as a complication of the influenza virus, and dehydration. She shook her head slightly, knowing that in an ideal world, Remus ought to be in hospital under constant care.

But with Voldemort's resurgence and the war looming, that wasn't a realistic option as a known Order member—especially given his werewolf status. The prejudice that still lingered in even the most well-meaning corners of society meant that sending Remus to St. Mungo's could invite more trouble than it would help. Andromeda sighed quietly, her hands moving with practised care as she adjusted his blankets and prepared for the long night ahead.

Andromeda conjured a self-wringing cloth and a bowl of cold water, placing them on the bedside table. With a wave of her wand, she directed the cool cloth to settle onto Remus's burning forehead. The cold touch stirred him from the near-unconscious state he'd fallen into the moment his head hit the pillow, and the movement triggered a painful, wracking cough.

"Shh, you're in good hands," Andromeda soothed, patting his back as she helped him sit up to ease the coughing fit.

"Dora?" Remus mumbled groggily, his voice rough and thick with congestion.

"She'll be right back," Andromeda reassured him, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. "She's just gone to get you some supplies."

At that, Remus stiffened slightly, the realisation that it wasn't Tonks but her mother taking care of him sinking in. He suddenly felt very awkward, as if the situation was far too intimate. "I'm…" he began, trying to insist that he was fine, but his protest was cut short by a string of wet, forceful sneezes into his palms. "Huh-hh— hh'NGTSHHH! Hhh-huh'tsschhh!"

His face flushed with embarrassment as the sneezes overtook him.

"Here," Andromeda said kindly, handing him a clean handkerchief with no hint of judgement. Remus took it gratefully, his embarrassment deepening at the mess in his palms.

Remus shivered violently after blowing his nose, a slight whimper escaping his lips as the movement sent sharp pain shooting through his back. The muscles seized up, and he winced, trying to stifle the reaction. He had hurt his back during the last full moon—one of the other wolves had thrown him against a tree, or so he assumed. It was all a blur now, but the pain was a constant reminder.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" Andromeda asked, her sharp eyes immediately catching the discomfort on his face.

Remus saw no point in denying it. "My back," he murmured, his voice strained.

Just then, the door opened, and Tonks walked in with a pharmacy bag in hand. "Got the supplies!" she announced, before her eyes darted between her mother and Remus, her concern deepening as she noticed the tension on his face. "What's going on?"

"He's hurt his back," Andromeda replied, not missing a beat, turning her attention back to Remus. "Let's see if we can ease that as well."

Andromeda, knowing what to do for his back, went to fetch various salves that were safe to use on Remus, leaving Tonks to handle the rest. She settled beside him, her expression soft with concern, and began dosing him with the muggle medicines she'd picked up. An anti-pyretic to bring down the fever, a decongestant to help break up all the gunk in his respiratory system, and tiger balm for his chest to ease his breathing a bit.

Remus, though clearly weary, took the pills dutifully, swallowing them with slow, laboured breaths. Once he was settled back down, Tonks got to work rubbing the balm into his chest, her touch gentle but firm.

The strong scent of camphor and menthol quickly filled the room, and Remus's nose twitched in response. Before he could stop it, another sneeze hit him. "Huh… hh'ITSCHuhh!" He curled up on himself, instinctively turning on his side, away from Tonks as he sneezed.

"Bless you," Tonks murmured, her hand resting on his arm, not making a fuss but staying close, letting him know she was there.

But he wasn't done yet. Another sneeze built quickly in his sinuses, followed by another, as if a wall of congestion was finally starting to break free. He tried to ask for a handkerchief, his hand gesturing vaguely toward the bedside table, but the words caught in his throat between sneezes.

"Hhh… Huh'tschh! Hh'tsshuhh!"

Tonks, ever attentive, quickly understood what he needed. Without waiting for him to finish, she grabbed a clean handkerchief from the table and pressed it gently into his hand, her touch steady and reassuring. Remus barely had time to murmur his thanks before another sneeze overtook him, muffled now into the fabric of the handkerchief.

"Th-thanks," he managed to croak out between hitching breaths, feeling both relief and embarrassment as Tonks stayed by his side, unfazed by his sneezing fit.

"HaH'TShuuh!"

"Oh, good," Andromeda said as she returned, observing Remus lying on his side. "Nymphadora, if you can just pull up his shirt, we can apply the salve to his back."

Before she could ask Remus where it hurt exactly, the large bruise on his lower back became painfully evident. Andromeda's lips tightened, concern etched across her face.

"I can do it, Mum," Tonks said, taking the tub of salve from her mother's hands. She knew, instinctively, that Remus wouldn't want anyone else but her to handle this. The privacy, the trust—it mattered to him, especially when he was vulnerable like this.

Gently, Tonks pulled up his back up shirt, her touch careful as she began to apply the salve to the angry-looking bruise. Remus winced slightly but didn't protest, grateful for her presence. Andromeda stepped back, watching quietly, knowing her daughter would take care of him as best as anyone could.

"There," Tonks said softly after a few minutes of carefully rubbing the salve into Remus's skin, pulling his shirt back down. "All done."

She expected him to shift back onto his back or maybe say something, but instead, she realised he had fallen asleep under her gentle ministrations, handkerchief still fisted in his hand. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she pulled the blanket up over him, tucking it carefully around his shoulders.

"Sleep well, love," she whispered, pressing a light kiss to his temple. She sat there for a moment longer, watching him rest, relieved to see him finally getting the peace he so desperately needed.