Remus dreamt of Sirius.
At first, it was the good kind of dream—memories of their youth at Hogwarts, snippets of school pranks, the four of them laughing together, carefree. Then it shifted to their reunion, the joy and disbelief he'd felt when Sirius escaped from Azkaban and reentered his life. But the warmth of the dream quickly gave way to something darker. His mind turned, unhelpfully, to the night in the Department of Mysteries—the flash of duelling spells, Sirius's laughter as he taunted Bellatrix, and then the moment that haunted him most of all. The slow-motion horror of watching Sirius fall through the Veil, disappearing forever.
He woke up with a violent jolt, gasping for air, his chest heaving as tears streamed down his face. His breathing was erratic, the ache in his chest deepening as a hacking cough tore through him. It felt like his lungs were on fire.
The room was dark, night having long since fallen. Remus remembered vague moments of waking earlier in the day—someone coaxing pills and water into him—but now everything felt hazy and distant. He was flushed and sweaty, whether from the fever or the strain of the coughing fit, he couldn't tell. His body was trembling with the effort of it, and his lungs felt like they might give out.
As the fit wracked his body, someone sat down beside him, holding him steady through the shakes. He realised it was Dora, her voice soft in his ear, murmuring comforting words. Her presence was steady, her hands gentle, and slowly, the coughing began to subside as he leaned into her touch.
"Okay there, love?" Tonks asked softly, her hand continuing to rub gentle, soothing circles into his back. The warmth of her touch and the steadiness of her presence anchored him as his coughing began to subside.
Remus nodded weakly, though his chest still burned, and the fatigue was overwhelming. He let out a shaky breath, trying to steady himself as he wiped the tears from his face, feeling embarrassed and exposed.
"Yeah," he rasped after a moment, his voice hoarse. "Just…a nightmare."
Tonks gave him a sympathetic smile, her hand never leaving his back. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Remus shook his head slightly, the memory of Sirius's death still too raw to vocalise. "No, not right now." His voice broke a little, betraying the emotion he was trying to keep at bay.
Tonks didn't push him. Instead, she leaned in closer, resting her forehead gently against his temple. "It's alright. You don't have to talk about it. Just breathe. I'm here."
"I really don't want you catching this," Remus murmured, pulling away slightly, his face still tight with concern.
Tonks met his eyes, her voice quiet but serious. "I'm glad you've got the capacity to worry about that now," she replied. "You were pretty out of it all day."
She hesitated for a moment, letting her words sink in before she added, "You really scared me, Remus."
He blinked, the guilt already creeping in, mingling with his exhaustion. "I didn't mean to…" he started, but his voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.
Tonks shook her head gently, her expression softening, though the weight of her worry still lingered. "I know," she said, reaching for his hand, her grip warm and steady. "But you don't have to do this alone. Let me help."
Remus squeezed her hand weakly, the knot of guilt and gratitude tightening in his chest. He couldn't push her away, not now. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I didn't want to be a burden."
"You're not," she said, her voice leaving no room for doubt. "Not to me."
Remus nodded, his throat tightening as the emotions welled up inside him. The weight of his grief—Sirius, James, Lily—was unbearable, and now he realised how, in his own tunnel vision of loss, he had been pushing Dora away. And yet, she had stayed, unwavering, through it all.
The tears came then, hot and heavy, and he couldn't stop them. He leaned into her, sobbing into her shoulder, the release of emotion overwhelming him. Tonks held him tightly, her arms wrapped securely around him, offering silent comfort. She didn't say anything, didn't try to hush him—she simply let him cry.
But soon, the sobs turned to coughing, and Remus had to pull away, doubling over as the deep, rattling coughs took over once more. His body shuddered with the effort, and Tonks was quick to steady him again, rubbing gentle circles into his back until the coughing subsided.
"Shh, it's alright," she murmured, her voice soft but firm. "I'm here, Remus. You're not alone."
All the ruckus from Remus's coughing fit seemed to have woken Andromeda, who entered the room dressed in only a nightgown with house robes hastily thrown over it. She surveyed the scene quickly, her Healer instincts sharp even in the middle of the night.
"Nymphadora, go stretch your legs a bit now that Remus is lucid," Andromeda instructed gently, though firmly. "I'll stay with him for a while."
As Remus's coughing began to subside, alarm flashed in his mind. Had Dora not left his side at all since he'd arrived? "You should sleep," he rasped, his voice hoarse from all the coughing.
"I was, thank you very much," Tonks retorted with a hint of humour, pointing toward the armchair that had been pulled up beside the bed.
"I mean in your bed," Remus croaked, his brows furrowing in concern.
Tonks smirked, a slight twinkle in her tired eyes. "You are in my bed," she replied, her tone teasing.
Remus blinked, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he realised he hadn't been placed in a guest bedroom as he'd assumed. He hadn't had the mental clarity to notice when he first arrived. His embarrassment deepened as he looked away, mumbling, "Oh... I didn't realise."
Tonks chuckled softly, patting his arm before standing up. "It's alright, love. You just rest." She shot her mother a grateful look before stepping out of the room to use the restroom, maybe drink, eat something, even though it was the middle of the night.
"How are you feeling, Remus dear?" Andromeda asked, her tone soft and almost motherly, though it struck him as odd. He was closer in age to her than to Tonks, and the fact that she addressed him like this made him feel even more out of place. Andromeda had been a seventh year when he started at Hogwarts, after all, and now here he was, involved with her daughter.
The awkwardness of the situation made him draw his legs up to his chest, curling in on himself as though trying to appear smaller in her eyes.
"Been better," he replied wryly, managing a faint smile. His voice was still scratchy and hoarse, but there was a flicker of his usual dry humour beneath the exhaustion. "Thank you for opening your home to me. I know this whole thing must be… strange."
Andromeda smiled, her expression warm and patient as she sat beside him. "Strange, perhaps, but not unwelcome. You're important to Dora, Remus. That's all that matters."
Her words were kind, but they only made Remus feel the weight of the situation even more. The idea of being important to Tonks was still something he was wrestling with. He felt unworthy—too damaged, too old, too burdened by grief. But Andromeda's acceptance, her calm understanding, gave him a sliver of reassurance he hadn't realised he needed.
Remus was spared from having to respond by an insistent tickle building in his sinuses. His breath hitched, and before he could stifle it, a sneeze forced its way out, aimed toward his knees.
"Hh… hh'hh'TSSHhoo!"
Andromeda handed him a fresh handkerchief without hesitation, her expression unchanged by the interruption. "Bless you," she said quietly, still watching him with that same calm, patient gaze.
Remus murmured a "thank you" as he dabbed at his nose, feeling both grateful for the distraction and oddly embarrassed by how vulnerable he felt. He wasn't used to this—being cared for like this, save for his friends, who were all gone now. Andromeda's warmth and acceptance were almost too much for him to process.
Still, he couldn't escape the heaviness in his chest—the feeling of being out of place, too broken to deserve this kindness. He looked up, meeting her gaze for a brief moment. "I'll… try not to be too much of a burden."
Andromeda shook her head gently, her eyes soft. "You're no burden, Remus. You're family now, whether you realise it or not."
"Mum, don't scare the poor werewolf with family talk. He might just run for the hills and never come back," Tonks teased from the doorway, a grin playing on her lips.
Remus, already in a bit of a shock, was so startled by the comment that he sent himself into a coughing fit. His chest rattled as he struggled to catch his breath, the fit taking a toll on his already weakened body.
Tonks, noticing how much he'd been coughing in the last few minutes, glanced at the clock on the wall. "I think you're overdue for some more meds." She turned to her mother. "Mum, can you do that diagnostic spell again? I wonder what his temperature is at."
In the midst of his coughing, Remus managed to wheeze out, "I'm still sitting right here," his tone half amused, half put out by the way the two women were talking over his head as if he weren't present.
Tonks chuckled softly, crossing the room to sit beside him again. "Oh, we know you are," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, her touch light and reassuring. "But right now, you're our patient, so you don't get much of a say."
Andromeda gave a small nod and pulled out her wand, moving closer to Remus. "Hold still for a moment," she instructed as she cast the diagnostic spell over him. A faint shimmer appeared over his chest, the magic working to assess his condition.
Andromeda frowned slightly as she finished casting the diagnostic spell. "His fever's still high—around 38.7," she said, her tone concerned. "It's come down a bit from before, but it hasn't broken yet. We'll need to keep monitoring it closely."
Tonks gave a small nod, already preparing the next dose of medicine for Remus. "Right," she said quietly, her eyes betraying the worry she felt despite trying to maintain a calm exterior. She handed the pills to Remus along with a glass of water. "Here, take these, love."
Remus, still catching his breath after the coughing fit, took the pills with a small nod, sipping the water to help them go down. His throat was scratchy, his body aching with fever, but he was grateful for the care they were showing him.
"Thanks," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I also picked up this lovely thing at the pharmacy," Tonks said, holding up a bottle of heavy-duty cough syrup with a wry smile, her tone light but her eyes still shadowed with worry, almost missing her mother quietly slipping out of the room. "But you need to be awake for a bit to take it since it's supposed to help break up the phlegm in your lungs. After that, you'll need to cough it up. Can't really do that if you're unconscious." She added, "And maybe you should eat something. We've got soup, crackers, or I can make anything you want, really."
Remus watched her as she spoke, her energy and determination to care for him shining through in every word, every gesture. It wasn't lost on him how much she was throwing herself into helping, and he couldn't help but feel both touched and unworthy of her attention. He must have zoned out because a second later, Tonks brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead, her eyes full of concern.
"I know you probably don't have much of an appetite," she said softly, "but you really need to eat something. You haven't eaten all day, and if I had to guess, not much in the days before either."
Remus cleared his throat, his voice rough as he spoke. "I can try some soup. Can't guarantee it'll stay down though."
Tonks's brow furrowed, and she looked at him with such an open expression of concern that it tugged at his chest. "Is your stomach upset?"
"A bit queasy, yeah," he admitted.
For a moment, Tonks just looked at him, and then, without any preamble, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him in a firm, comforting hug. Remus blinked in surprise, though it was a warm, familiar kind of comfort. "Dora... I'm still contagious," he mumbled, weakly attempting to protest.
"I don't care," she said softly, her voice determined. "You need some tender love and care, Remus."
He let out a shaky breath, leaning into her embrace, the simple comfort of her closeness soothing some of the weight in his chest. Despite everything—the fever, the aches, and the ever-present guilt—he felt just a little bit lighter.
Despite his better judgement, Remus buried his face into the crook of her neck, the warmth of her skin against his fevered forehead offering a comfort he hadn't realised he needed. He couldn't really smell her scent, not through the congestion clogging his sinuses, but the closeness, the sense of security she provided, was enough. He sighed into her, though the movement quickly led to a familiar, sharp urge to cough.
Instinctively, he tried to pull away, but Tonks didn't let him. She held him steady, refusing to let him retreat. A fond sense of exasperation welled up in the back of his mind. It was as if she was determined to catch his illness. His thoughts, muddled as they were by fever, flashed to a memory from months ago—when she had, with a grin, licked her hand after handling his soiled handkerchief. Perhaps, he thought with a tired smile, the assumption that she wanted to get sick wasn't far off from the truth after all.
But for now, he allowed himself the comfort of her presence, the gentle way she held him, even though he knew he should probably protest. The warmth of her felt too good, too grounding, and he didn't want to let go.
"So, do you think you can stay awake for an hour or two?" Tonks asked softly, her hand brushing soothingly against his back. "Just long enough for the cough syrup to work without you choking to death in your sleep?"
Remus lifted his head slightly, blinking as he tried to focus. The exhaustion weighed heavily on him, but he knew she was right. He needed the medicine to break up the congestion in his lungs, but the idea of voluntarily triggering some massive coughing fits was... less than appealing.
"I'll keep you company," Tonks offered, her tone gentle, as if trying to sweeten the deal.
Remus blinked, too tired to respond with much more than a nod.
She smiled, more feeling than seeing his faint nod, and quickly poured out the cough syrup, handing it to him. "Here you go, love."
Remus took the dose, grimacing slightly at the sharp taste of the cough syrup, but knowing there was no avoiding it. He leaned back into the pillows, feeling the weight of his aching body settle in, and glanced at Tonks, his voice hoarse as he whispered, "Thank you."
Tonks gave him a soft smile and brushed a hand across his arm. "While that kicks in, let me get you that soup. It'll only take a minute," she said, standing up and heading toward the kitchen.
Remus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe through the lingering congestion, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him. He was grateful for her care, and even more so for her presence. In his fevered state, it was easy to let his mind drift toward darker thoughts, but Tonks's voice and the gentle sound of her footsteps brought him back to the present, grounding him in the warmth of the moment.
It wasn't long before she returned with a bowl of steaming soup, the aroma wafting into the room. "Here we go," she said, setting it down on the bedside table. "Think you can manage a few spoonfuls?"
Remus opened his eyes, nodding slowly. "I'll try," he murmured.
Remus ate about a quarter of the soup, but his stomach wasn't up to the task. He knew the cough syrup would trigger a round of harsh coughing soon, and the last thing he wanted was to overtax his stomach and end up throwing up again. So he stopped eating, setting the bowl aside with a weary sigh.
Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, the deep, burning urge to cough overtook him. The sensation was impossible to ignore, and it shook him to his core. Tonks, already anticipating this, settled herself behind him, giving him firm support as his body was wracked with the painful fits.
"Here," she said gently, handing him a fresh, self-cleaning handkerchief to cough into.
Remus clutched it, his body convulsing as the coughs tore through him. It wasn't just his lungs that loosened; his sinuses followed suit, leaving him feeling like a complete mess. He coughed until his chest ached, then sneezed repeatedly, his body shuddering with the effort.
"Hh…huh'ITSSHhh! Huh-hh'TSCHHh!" He sneezed, coughing again right after, feeling utterly worn out. His eyes watered as he blew his nose, his body exhausted from the effort of expelling the congestion.
"Merlin," he muttered between breaths, his voice hoarse and ragged. He felt completely overwhelmed by how out of control his body was. "I'm a mess…"
Tonks pressed a hand to his shoulder, her touch steady and calming. "You're not a mess," she reassured him softly, her voice full of warmth and understanding. "You're sick. This'll pass. You're doing great."
But Remus couldn't help but feel vulnerable and embarrassed, sneezing and coughing, feeling like he had no control over his own body. He looked at her, his expression tired but grateful. "Thanks," he croaked, leaning into her support, utterly drained.
They fell asleep that way, Tonks leaning back against the headboard, her arms wrapped securely around Remus as he rested between her legs, his head nestled against her chest. His breathing, though still laboured, had slowed as he finally drifted off into an exhausted sleep.
Tonks, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against her, let herself relax too, her fingers lightly brushing through his hair as they both succumbed to the quiet peace of the moment.