Sirius had been pacing the floor for what felt like hours, the oppressive silence of Grimmauld Place slowly driving him mad. His mind kept spinning, restless as always, but at least there was the small comfort that Remus had finally dozed off. The house had been quiet, and as much as it grated on him, Sirius was glad Remus was getting the rest he so clearly needed.
Then he heard it.
A faint cough, followed by the unmistakable sound of unrestrained sneezes floating down the staircase, jolted Sirius into action like a spark to kindling. He didn't even think, his body moving on instinct. Remus was awake, and worse—he sounded miserable.
Sirius darted into the kitchen, throwing together another batch of tea with the efficiency of someone whose mind was entirely focused on one thing: making sure Remus was comfortable. His thoughts raced. Soup—yes, soup would be good, something light to warm him up. Fresh handkerchiefs, too. The way Remus had been stifling his sneezes earlier had to have been making his headache worse. Sirius piled everything onto a tray, his hands working swiftly, his mind already jumping to what else he could do.
He hated that he didn't have any Muggle medicine in the house. Back at Hogwarts, they used to keep stashes of it for situations like this—simple remedies that didn't involve complicated potions that had side effects worse for the werewolf than the illness they were meant to treat. Sirius scowled as he thought about it. Whatever potion he could scrounge up here would probably make Remus feel worse, not better. Not that Sirius was even sure they had Pepper-Up. And it's not like Sirius could leave the house to get anything from a Muggle pharmacy.
But maybe... Sirius paused, his hand hovering over the tray for a moment. Tonks. His cousin had been around a lot lately, and if there was anyone who could stumble her way through a Muggle pharmacy without raising suspicion, it was her. Though, Sirius smirked to himself at the thought of Tonks knocking over half the displays before she even found the cold medicine aisle.
That would be a task for later, though. He'd check if Remus was actually running a fever before bothering with that. But for now, he had his care package—tea, soup, and handkerchiefs—ready. Balancing the tray carefully, Sirius made his way up the staircase, determined to play nurse whether Remus liked it or not.
As he reached the landing, the faint sounds of coughing filtered through the door, making Sirius's chest tighten with worry. He knocked lightly, just enough to announce his presence, before nudging the door open with his foot.
Remus was sitting up in bed, looking pale and slightly dazed, his handkerchief pressed to his face as another sneeze overtook him. "Hh'RCHh!—ugh..." He groaned softly, leaning back against the headboard, clearly feeling worse than before.
Sirius frowned but masked it quickly with a light tone. "Brought you a little something," he said, stepping into the room and setting the tray down on the bedside table. "Tea, soup, and a fresh set of handkerchiefs. Don't say I never do anything for you."
Remus shot him a tired look, clearly too exhausted to offer any witty retort. He reached for the tea first, though, cradling the warm cup in his hands as though it were the most comforting thing in the world.
"Thanks," Remus muttered, his voice hoarse, though the gratitude was evident. He took a sip, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the warmth seemed to ease him just a little.
Sirius hovered for a second, hands twitching as if he wanted to do more but didn't know how to without overstepping. "You should eat something too," he suggested gently. "Just a bit of soup to keep your strength up."
Remus gave a small nod, though his movements were sluggish. Sirius took that as permission to help, gently nudging the soup closer to him. He hated seeing Remus like this, run down and vulnerable, and the urge to do more gnawed at him.
"Feel any worse?" Sirius asked, trying to keep his tone casual, though the concern was obvious.
Remus sighed softly, rubbing at his temples again. "A bit," he admitted. "Headache mostly. I'll be alright."
Sirius's brow furrowed, and he leaned down slightly, pressing the back of his hand to Remus's forehead before Remus could protest. "You're not too warm," he noted, relieved that there wasn't an obvious fever. "But still, maybe I'll see if I can get Tonks to—"
"Sirius," Remus cut him off gently, opening his eyes to look at him, a small smile playing at his lips despite his weariness. "I'll be fine. Really."
Sirius hesitated, the need to do something still clawing at him, but Remus's calm, reassuring presence was like a balm against the frantic energy. He let out a breath, nodding slightly. "I know," he muttered, though part of him still wasn't convinced. "But I'm still keeping an eye on you."
Remus chuckled softly, his voice still rough but warmer now. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
Sirius pulled a chair closer to the bed, sitting down with a sense of quiet determination. He wouldn't fuss—well, not too much—but he wasn't going anywhere. Not until Remus was better. And as the room settled into a quieter rhythm, the sound of the rain pattering against the window, Sirius finally felt like he was where he needed to be.
Having finished his tea, Remus slowly took the bowl of soup and began to eat, though his movements were sluggish, betraying how worn out he was. Sirius watched, his eyes flicking between Remus's pale face and the nearly full bowl in his hands. Remus managed a few spoonfuls before his breath hitched, signalling another sneeze.
Without hesitation, Sirius raised his wand and gently levitated the bowl out of Remus's hands just in time for him to bring the handkerchief to his face.
"Hh'RCHHew!" Remus sneezed, and then blew his nose, though the effort seemed less than productive. It was more of an annoying, slightly runny nose, irritating him but not providing any relief.
"Thanks," Remus muttered, still sounding stuffy, but his gratitude was genuine. He took back the soup from where Sirius had carefully kept it floating in midair, managing to eat the rest of it. Sirius noted with quiet satisfaction that finishing the soup was a good sign—it meant Remus had some appetite left, at least.
But despite that, a nagging thought tugged at the back of Sirius's mind. He knew, logically, that he was probably making too big a deal out of this. Remus had handled worse things than a cold, after all. But now that he'd started, he couldn't stop himself from seeing the whole thing through. He was committed to the task, and if keeping Remus comfortable meant being a little over-the-top, then so be it.
Once Remus finished the last of the soup, he shuffled back down under the covers, his eyes already half-closed in tiredness. Sirius watched him with an intense focus, still brimming with that restless energy, but trying his best not to hover too much.
As Remus settled back into the pillows, Sirius hesitated for a moment before asking, his voice quieter now, more tentative. "Can Padfoot stay and keep you company?"
Remus opened his eyes just a sliver, looking at Sirius with a mixture of exhaustion and affection. He smiled faintly, a warm but tired expression, and nodded. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice hoarse but sincere. "I think I'd like that."
Sirius grinned, the tension in his chest easing just slightly. He transformed into Padfoot in one smooth movement, the large black dog now standing by the bedside. He gave Remus a soft, affectionate nudge with his nose before curling up at the foot of the bed, his presence warm and solid.
It was an instinctual comfort Sirius could offer, one that didn't require words or fussing. Just being there, in his Animagus form, seemed to calm both of them. As the quiet stretched on, the only sound the occasional sniffle or soft cough from Remus, Padfoot's steady breathing filled the room, a grounding force in the otherwise still house.
As the night wore on and the rain continued to patter against the windows, Padfoot lay quietly at the foot of the bed, his dark fur rising and falling with each slow breath. Remus, who had finally drifted off to sleep, lay curled under the covers, the exhaustion from his cold pulling him deeper into much-needed rest. For a while, the house was filled with nothing but the quiet rhythm of their breathing, a stark contrast to the earlier tension.
But after a time, Padfoot stirred, instinctively feeling the need to be closer. His large form shuffled carefully up the bed, moving silently until he was nestled right beside Remus. The warmth of his friend's body drew him in, and Padfoot stayed perfectly still, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace of Remus's sleep.
Remus didn't seem to mind. In fact, as Padfoot settled beside him, Remus's arm, even in sleep, instinctively snaked over the dog's broad form. He pulled Padfoot closer, his fingers gently brushing through the fur, and buried his face in the warmth. A quiet sigh escaped him, his tense muscles relaxing, and it was clear that even in his sleep, Remus found comfort in having Padfoot near.
Sirius, though still in his Animagus form, felt something soften in his chest. There was something deeply soothing about being able to offer comfort this way—without words, without overthinking, just simple presence and warmth. And as Remus clung to him, finding rest despite the cold weighing him down, Padfoot shifted ever so slightly, resting his large head on the pillow beside Remus's, his dark eyes half-closed in contentment.
The storm outside might have raged on, but here, in this quiet room, with Remus safe and warm beside him, Sirius felt a sense of calm he hadn't known in days. This was all he needed right now—to be close, to offer what little comfort he could, and to stay right by his friend's side.
As the night deepened, Padfoot stayed still, not daring to move, and the two of them rested together, the simple, silent bond between them stronger than ever.
When Remus stirred awake the next morning, the first thing he registered was warmth—a soft, enveloping warmth that wasn't entirely from the blankets wrapped around him. He blinked sleepily, taking a moment to orient himself, his mind still fogged by his cold. The second thing he noticed was the solid weight pressed up against his side, the familiar texture of fur beneath his fingers.
Remus shifted slightly and froze, realising that sometime during the night, he had wrapped his arm around Padfoot, who was curled up beside him, warm and comforting. The large black dog's head rested on the pillow next to his, still as if guarding him through the night. Remus felt a rush of affection, but almost immediately, a pang of embarrassment hit him as well.
Before he could fully process the situation, an itch bloomed at the back of his nose. His breath hitched involuntarily, and without time to react, a sneeze burst out of him.
"Hh... Hh'TSSHhh!"
Right into Padfoot's fur.
Remus's eyes went wide, and he immediately scrambled back a little, mortified. "Oh, Merlin—sorry!" he croaked, his voice hoarse from both sleep and the full-on head cold. He swiped at his nose with his handkerchief, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Padfoot lifted his head lazily, blinking as if mildly confused by the sudden movement. He looked at Remus with a sleepy but amused expression, his tail giving a small wag as if to say, It's fine, mate. I've seen worse.
But Remus was already cringing, blowing his nose and trying to put some distance between himself and the fur he'd just sneezed into. "Sirius," he muttered, clearly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to... I..."
Before Remus could finish his half-hearted apology, Padfoot leaned in closer, giving him a gentle nudge with his nose, as if to remind him that there was no harm done. He let out a soft, reassuring huff, settling his head back down on the pillow as if completely unbothered by the sneeze.
Remus couldn't help but chuckle quietly, despite himself. "You're impossible," he muttered, his voice still rough from the cold, but there was a warmth in his tone now. He leaned back into the bed, though he was careful to keep the handkerchief close at hand this time, just in case.
Padfoot gave another lazy wag of his tail, content to stay curled up beside him, offering silent support as always. Remus felt the embarrassment ease, replaced by the quiet comfort of having his friend near, even if that meant Sirius would probably tease him about this later.
"Thanks," Remus said softly, still holding his handkerchief, though his fingers reached out to give Padfoot a gentle scratch behind the ears in gratitude. The large black dog let out a soft, contented noise, nuzzling him in response, their silent bond stronger than any words could convey.
But as Remus's warm hand brushed Padfoot's ear, something about the temperature of his touch made Sirius's instincts flare. The heat wasn't just from the blankets or the lingering comfort of sleep. No, Remus was too warm. Sirius's heart skipped a beat, concern flooding him instantly.
In a blink, Padfoot was gone, and Sirius, now back in human form, sat up beside Remus, his expression serious. Without hesitation, he reached out, pressing the back of his hand to Remus's forehead, the way he had done the night before. He didn't need long to confirm what his gut had already told him.
"Remus," Sirius muttered, his voice low and tense, "you've got a fever."
Remus sighed, looking sheepish but not entirely surprised. "It's probably nothing," he croaked, pulling the handkerchief back to his nose as if that would somehow hide the obvious flush on his cheeks or the fact that his body was betraying him. "Just the cold running its course."
But Sirius wasn't having it. He pressed his palm more firmly against Remus's forehead, feeling the unmistakable warmth beneath his skin. "No, you're burning up," Sirius said, his tone sharper than he intended, the worry gnawing at him. "You should've told me you were feeling worse."
Remus gave a weak shrug, offering a tired smile as if to downplay it. "Didn't seem worth mentioning."
Sirius shook his head, a mix of frustration and concern swirling inside him. "Of course it's worth mentioning! You've been sneezing, coughing, and now you've got a fever, Remus. You're not just 'fine'."
Remus winced slightly, the raised voice clearly not helping his headache. Sirius immediately softened, realising he was pushing too hard, but he couldn't help it. His fingers hovered by Remus's shoulder, unsure whether to fuss more or give him space.
"You can't just ignore it," Sirius added, his voice softer now, more pleading. "You're not invincible, Moony. Let me help."
Remus sighed, his shoulders slumping. He leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes briefly, as though the act of surrendering to rest was exhausting in itself. "Alright," he muttered, too worn out to keep protesting. "I'll rest."
Sirius nodded, a flicker of relief easing the tightness in his chest. "Good," he said, standing up and already thinking about what else he could do. "I'll grab some cool cloths for your forehead, and maybe—"
"Sirius," Remus interrupted gently, opening his eyes again. Despite the fever, his gaze was steady, if a little weary. "You've done enough. Just… stay here, alright? That's all I need right now."
Sirius paused, surprised by the request, but he couldn't argue with the quiet sincerity in Remus's voice. The thought of fetching things, doing something tangible, had been driving him since Remus had first shown signs of being ill, but now… Now it seemed that what Remus really needed was just his presence.
"Okay," Sirius said softly, sitting back down beside the bed. He still wanted to do more, to fix things, but if staying by Remus's side was what he needed most, then that's what he'd do.
He sat close, watching Remus settle back under the blankets, and when Remus's hand reached out again, finding its way to Sirius's wrist, Sirius covered it with his own.
They stayed like that for a while, the house quiet except for the soft rustle of blankets and the occasional cough from Remus. Sirius watched him carefully, his mind still buzzing with concern, but at least now he could do what he did best: be there.
It didn't take long for Sirius to notice that Remus wasn't settling comfortably anymore. Every few moments, a soft cough would wrack his body, shaking his frame, and Remus kept shifting in bed, trying to find a position that would ease the discomfort in his chest. Sirius frowned, watching him with concern as it became clear that lying flat was only making things worse.
Without saying a word, Sirius made an executive decision. He stood up, brisk but careful, and headed for the linen closet, grabbing another pillow to prop Remus up a bit more. If Remus wasn't going to complain, Sirius would just take matters into his own hands.
"Here," Sirius said as he returned, gently lifting Remus's shoulders and sliding the pillow behind him, adjusting it so that he was more upright. "This should help with the coughing."
Remus nodded gratefully, though the fatigue was clear in his eyes. He rested back against the extra pillow, the change in position seeming to ease some of the strain on his chest, but the fever still lingered, casting a pale flush across his cheeks.
Sirius hovered by the bed for a moment, still buzzing with the need to do something. Remus had finished the last of his tea last night, and Sirius figured another round wouldn't hurt, especially if it helped soothe his throat. Maybe some crackers, too, or something heartier if Remus could manage it, though Sirius doubted his appetite was going to be quite up to par with yesterday's.
"Alright, I'm going to get you some more tea," Sirius announced, moving toward the door, but he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "And maybe something to eat, yeah? You need to keep your strength up."
Remus gave a small, tired smile, though it was clear he wasn't expecting to be able to eat much. "We'll see," he rasped, his voice still hoarse.
Sirius nodded, already halfway out the door. But before he made it downstairs, another thought struck him, one that he already had but almost forgot—Nymphadora. If anyone could help him get the Muggle supplies they needed, it was her. Tonks was clumsy, sure, but resourceful, and Sirius trusted her enough to handle the task.
Sirius quickly grabbed a quill and parchment from the desk in the hallway, scribbling a note with his usual hurried scrawl:
Tonks,
Need a favour. Moony is down with a cold, and we're out of anything useful here. Could you pick up some Muggle cold medicine, maybe some lozenges, and whatever else you think might help? You know the kind. I can't leave HQ, and I don't trust any other fool with this.
Thanks. Don't knock over any displays.
—Padfoot
Satisfied with the message, Sirius folded the parchment and attached it to the leg of the family owl. He watched the bird take off into the grey sky before heading back to the kitchen to prepare another round of tea, his mind already buzzing with his next steps.
In no time, Sirius had a tray prepared—fresh tea, a few crackers just in case, and some broth that he doubted Remus would be hungry for but brought up anyway. Balancing it carefully, he made his way back upstairs, the soft sounds of Remus's coughing guiding him as he pushed the door open.
"Here we go," Sirius said gently, setting the tray down beside the bed, noticing that he must gone out to pee at least because the blankets were arranged quite differently now. "I sent an owl to Tonks, by the way. She'll bring us some proper supplies soon."
Remus gave him a grateful look, his eyes heavy with fatigue but softened by appreciation. "You didn't have to do all this," he murmured, though his voice was laced with exhaustion. "But… thanks."
Sirius shrugged, sitting back down at his usual spot beside the bed. "I'm not doing anything special," he said lightly, though the worry still simmered beneath the surface. "Just taking care of you. That's all."
He had barely settled back into his spot beside the bed when Remus's breath hitched. The warning signs were all there—Remus's eyes fluttered shut, his hand scrambling for the handkerchief.
"Mm," was all Remus could manage in response to Sirius before he was overtaken by an impressive fit of sneezes.
"Hh'RCHH! Hh'SHH! Hh... hh'TSHHHew!"
Each sneeze seemed to shake Remus's tired body, his handkerchief barely containing the force of it. Sirius watched with a mix of concern and helpless amusement, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest as the fit continued.
When it finally subsided, Remus let out a weak groan, slumping back against the pillows, his chest rising and falling heavily with the effort of catching his breath. He looked utterly spent, the exhaustion deepening the lines on his face.
"Bless you," Sirius said quietly, his tone still light, but the worry was creeping back in again. He offered Remus the tea, hoping the warmth might soothe him. "That was quite the performance."
Remus just gave him a tired glance, his voice rough as he muttered, "Could've done without it."
Sirius smirked, though the concern never left his eyes. "Well, if you're going to be impressive at something, might as well be sneezing."
Remus let out a soft chuckle, though it quickly turned into another cough. He sipped at the tea gratefully, his eyes drooping with fatigue. Sirius stayed close, watching every movement, every breath, knowing he couldn't do much more than offer comfort but determined to stay by Remus's side through it all.
"Don't fight it," Sirius murmured, his voice low and gentle as he watched Remus struggle to stay upright. "Just rest. I've got you."
Remus nodded weakly, his body sinking further into the pillows as his eyes drifted shut again. Sirius leaned back, watching over him with quiet determination, knowing that he couldn't fix everything, but at least he could be here.
