I've been thinking of Remus all day, flitting between ruthless anger, still directed at Snape, and a miserable concern for Remus' own well- being. James and I skip out on the beginning of Arithmancy to peek our heads into the hospital wing, just in case he'd stopped off to see Madam Pomfrey -- or had been brought there. Upon catching us, Pomfrey practically chases us off with a broom, insisting we "go straight to class -- where you should be -- instead of snooping about and bothering those poor souls in need of rest."
It isn't until supper that I begin to grow concerned, as Remus and his sweet tooth never miss the pudding served for dessert every Tuesday night. By then, James is rolling his eyes at me, and he practically manhandles me to my feet after watching me pick listlessly at my food. With a wink (and visible relief in his own features as I stand to leave), he hands me a small, sealed bowl containing a generous helping of pudding for Remus. I stow it away in an inner fold of my robe, and I force myself not to break into a run on my way back to the dormitory.
As I slip through the portal into the Gryffindor common room, I see Remus seated at a corner table, alone near the fire. There is a book open before him, a quill clasped in his left hand and a handkerchief in his right, and he sniffles against it as he attempts to take notes. My heart goes out to him as I notice the pale in his cheeks, the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the slight pinkness of his nose. And, somewhere deeper, in a more reserved section of my heart, I'm infinitely relieved.
He looks up as I slide into the seat across from him, a smile forming on his lips. The handkerchief drops briefly as he opens his mouth to talk, but an instant later is brought back to his nose. The breath of speech turns to a hitching gasp, and he jerks forward, caught in another fit of harsher, more tired-sounding sneezes.
"Hah... aaisshoo! Heh-ihhshoo! Hah-CHUUH! Argh!" He is clearly frustrated, angrily shoving his straggly bangs out of his eyes once again.
"Bless, Remus," I say gently, holding back the virtually overwhelming concern that threatens to take over. "Eesh, are you still going at it?"
"It's not as bad as it was, believe it or not," he murmurs, giving his nose a short blow. "The sneezing's getting better, but I'm still stuffed as can be. I think I could do with a new immune system right about now."
"Have you seen Madam Pomfrey?"
"What is she going to do besides lecture me that I shouldn't have been working with aconite in the first place?"
I shrug. "Surely she could give you something to clear you up, maybe stop the sneezes..."
Remus shakes his head with a weary grin, speaking softly so as not to arouse the suspicion of the few Gryffindors that have made their way back from supper to the common area. "Nothing works against an aconite allergy. Not in the case of a creature like me, at any rate. It's just got to work its way out of my system. I've dealt with it before, back when my Uncle Reynard was visiting some years back. Didn't matter that it wasn't a full moon, he still filled the house with enough aconite to put me in the hospital. `Just a precaution,' he told my Mum. Meantime, I'm nearly in anaphylactic shock." He rolls his eyes, setting aside his quill, and gives another quick blow to his nose.
"Bugger. We're going to have to listen to you snuffle all night, aren't we?" I give him a disarming grin.
"Yes, I think so," Remus says, eyes flittering to the homework before him. His voice softens, and he mumbles, "So what happened after I left class? Were people, you know... talking? About what Severus was saying?"
My eyes widen, and I'm unable to suppress a snicker. "Funny you should ask that, Remus." And as he lifts a brow at my bemusement, I explain James' quick thinking at transfiguring the mold on the aconite branches, and my own insistence to the Professor Sloop that Remus was, in fact, exceedingly sensitive to the substance.
"I don't see why that's quite so amusing," he says, uncomfortably. "I'm really not allergic to Anthoras Mold. What if someone finds out?"
"Yes, well, you might not be allergic. But guess what large-nosed Slytherin know-it-all really is?" My grin widens, showing teeth.
The handkerchief clutched in Remus' hand drops to the table, and he hides his laughter behind his fingertips. "Tell me you're joking!"
"If only I were, Moony!" I say, leaning back in my seat with a satisfactory _expression on my face. "If you thought your reaction to the aconite was bad, you should have seen poor Snape. I didn't know a human being could turn such colors!"
"I certainly wouldn't classify Severus as `poor,'" says Remus between chuckles. "Or a human being, for that matter."
"Yes,well, I call it poetic justice. Maybe we should start the rumor that he's the werewolf."
Remus bites his lip, his grin suddenly fading, and his cheeks color as he shakes his head. "Don't, Sirius. I wouldn't wish that even on Snape."
"I think he'd deserve it," I say with a roll of my eyes. "After trying to spread it around that you're a werewolf."
"But I am a werewolf," Remus softly says, picking up his handkerchief and sniffling twice. His brow furrows and a resigned look crosses his face as his eyes drift shut, breath catching in a convulsive gasp. "Ohh, bloody he-hell... Heh... csshuh! ChuuhChuuh! Hah, aaiisshoo!"
"Such language, Remus!" I lightly joke to hide my concern for him as he gives his nose a rough, painful-sounding blow. "Bless, by the way."
"Thank you," he mutters, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He looks exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes appearing all the more pronounced.
"Look, Remus..." I whisper, leaning close to him. "Yes, you're a werewolf. But the world doesn't have to know. Let me tell you, Snape had no right to make such accusations in front of everyone. Do you know how much trouble he could get you in, if the whole school knew?"
"And if he were in my place, wouldn't you make such accusations, if you were even the slightest bit suspicious?"
The dark look in his eyes surprises me, yet the implications behind his question startle me more. What would I do, if Snape were the werewolf instead of Remus...?
"I -- I don't know," I answer, honestly.
"I think I'm going to go to bed. I'm tired." Remus roughly pushes back his chair and gathers his belongings into his arms in a single swoop.
"That's a very unfair question, if you were to ask my opinion of it," I say, as he turns his back dismissively towards me.
Remus glances over his shoulder, his eyes hard, even as he sniffles against the edge of his sleeve. I swear, if looks could kill...
I lift my hands into the air in an `I surrender' type of gesture. "No, seriously, Moony. I think that, if your roles were reversed, you'd both be such completely different people that I couldn't tell you what my reaction would be. Sure, if he were still as nasty a git as he is now, then maybe I would. But, given all you've been through -- that he would have had to go through -- I don't think he'd be at all the same. You wouldn't be at all the same."
He sighs, nods, and turns back towards the stairs leading up to the cluster of four-poster beds reserved for fifth-years. Yet he allows me to walk beside him as I move to join him. "I suppose you have a point, there," is all he murmurs, quietly.
"C'mon, Moony. I don't say that like it's a bad thing," I say in an easy tone, slipping my arm across his shoulders. "You're you, and I wouldn't have it any other way."
Remus pauses at the second stair from the top, and I feel his shoulders stiffen as he draws in two deep, coaxing breaths. "Huh -- huh-aaisshoo! Heh-ihhshoo!"
As he fumbles for his handkerchief, I slide the books from his arms. "Bless, Moony."
"Gods, this has got to stop. I think I might sneeze my brains out through my nose," he murmurs around the handkerchief.
"Please, it wouldn't be that tremendous a loss," I say, and, in a moment of impetuousness, I nuzzle my nose against his ear. "Poor Moony. Poor sick, allergic Moony."
"Come now, Sirius," he replies with a faint blush. "I'm not that pathetic, am I?"
"Well," I say, slowly, drawing out each word as if in careful deliberation, "I suppose you're not. But it makes me feel better to be able to dote on you."
"To make fun of me, you mean," he replies, stuffing his handkerchief into his pocket and taking the books from my arms.
"Moony, dear lad," I say as I lean my head against his companionably, hips bumping together as we walk, "I wouldn't truly be your friend if I didn't. I tease you to let you know that I care."
"I see." Shifting the pile of books to one arm, he leans back against me for the briefest of moments. He then stops in his tracks, a befuddled look upon his face, and suddenly reaches past the fold of my outer cloak with his free hand, producing a small, magically sealed bowl. It takes me a moment to remember the container James set aside at supper, and Remus breaks away from me before I can stop him.
"Now see here, Moony --"
"Pudding! You brought me pudding!" he exclaims, a grin alighting on his features. Combined with the shimmer in his eyes and the pinkness in his nose and cheeks, he's practically glowing.
"I never said that was for you..."
"You never said it wasn't either," Remus says with a mock sniffle. "I never doubted you for a moment, Padfoot."
I begin to blush faintly, and, as I'm staring at the ground and mumbling something incoherent, he takes off down the short hall towards the sleeping area, balancing a pile of books at the bowl of pudding in his arms.
"Oi, get back here!" I exclaim with a short laugh, following fast behind him and catching the faintest glimpse of his robes as he disappears beneath an invisibility cloak nicked from James' trunk at the edge of the bed, his books scattering across a nearby table. And while I can no longer see him,
I've no doubt I'll find him -- if his laughter doesn't give him away, his sneezes will, cloak or no cloak. And then, aconite and pudding will be the least of his worries, once he has a riled Padfoot on his heels...
end