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With the storms came sickness. It was worst for Remus, who was weak from the full moon, but also best (if any part could be considered good) because he knew Madam Pomfrey well enough to deal with her mother henning, and was used to doing his homework in the Infirmary.

The others visited him in friendly duty. Peter wrung his hands, his mothers careful words of healthiness repeated themselves through his mind. James stood tall, certain that no mere cold would dare attack him. Sirius watched Remus's feverish face and bit his lower lip. They kept their distance, at Madam Pomfrey's orders.

Madam Pomfrey made Remus leave the infirmary as soon as she determined he was no longer contagious and strong enough to walk unsupported. James and Sirius supported him anyway, dragging his weak body up the flights of stairs to the tower. James sent Peter for soup from the kitchens, and Sirius sent James to the library for something interesting for Moony to read.

"Padfoot?" Remus asked, weakly.

"Hush," Sirius told him.

He threw back the covers of Remus's bed and manoeuvred Remus between the crisp, clean sheets. Remus sighed softly as Sirius's tucked him in. Remus burrowed further into his bed, pulling the sheet up to protect himself from the coarse wool of the blankets Sirius methodically wrapped him in.

"James is bringing soup," Sirius said.

"Heard you," Remus said. He reached out a hand towards Sirius, but his fingers got tangled. Remus managed to laugh and his ran his fingers through Sirius's hair, and Sirius stopped breathing for a moment.

Remus pulled his hand back and tucked it carefully under his cheek. Sirius grinned at the image as Remus closed his eyes and finally slept. The storming clouds parted then, just barely enough for the window sun through the windows to touch the side of Remus's face. Sirius gently brushed the sweat damp hair off Remus's forehead and sat to keep watch.