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Title: Resolutions
Author: Dusty15
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Remus wasn't expecting to spend New Year's Day in bed sick, but Tonks is more than happy to just be with him.
Bunny: #25, #35, #41

Resolutions

“What do you mean he’s not coming?” Sirius demanded as James looked on in silent resolution.

“He said he wasn’t feeling well,” Lily chimed in from her spot on the couch where she watched over Harry as he cooed from the nearby bassinet.

“The moon was two days ago!” exclaimed Sirius. “We went with him! He should entirely up to speed at this point.”

“I didn’t ask,” James said, pouring himself a glass of champagne. “He sent an owl and said he had a cold and that he was going to stay in by himself. You can’t force him to be social, Sirius. Maybe he does have a cold.”

“When was the last time Remus had a cold?” Sirius asked, hands perched on his hips in frustration. “I’m not talking about feeling off after the moon or that dreadful hayfever of his; I’m talking about a good old fashioned influenza.”

“Last spring,” Peter replied.

“That was an allergic reaction to a potion,” Sirius said as James and Lily exchanged meaningful looks.

“And don’t judge me,” he snapped at James, seeing his glance towards Lily. “I have an excellent memory.”

“And an excellent adoration for one Messer Moony,” James replied. “Are you going to resolve to finally put an end to this dance and ask the bloke out?”

It was a long suffering point of contention between Remus and Sirius. There was clearly something there, but Remus wouldn’t budge, even after months of Sirius’ blatant flirtation. James had taken to calling them a pair of ‘old quarreling birds’ who simply couldn’t live with or without each other.

Sirius scowled, looking rather the part of a put-out child, what with his New Year’s part hat on and the magically flashing beads James insisted they all wear.

“Look, Sirius,” Lily said, gathering Harry in her arms from the cradle and tickling his tummy so the baby squealed with delight. “Go check on him and come back. You won’t enjoy New Year’s if you’re going to spend it fretting over whether or not he’s actually ill. And if he’s being unsociable, tell him I insist he get over here at once and that we’ll let him go home right after the stroke of midnight because I know he’s an early-to-bed and early-to-rise sort of bloke.”

“Fine,” Sirius said. “I’ll just Floo over and report back with Moony in tow. Don’t drink all the champagne without me.”

With a pinch of powder tossed in the fire, Sirius disappeared, emerging in the tiny sitting room of Remus’ flat.

Remus was sprawled out on his battered sofa, buried in a pile of blankets. A rubbish bin was perched nearby, almost overflowing with tissues, and a half dozen empty tea cups were scattered on the floor.

Sirius’ heart sank. The first time Sirius cared for Remus alone after a transformation was when they’d graduated Hogwarts, Sirius had grabbed Remus’ arm to Apparate them back home only to find the werewolf unnaturally warm. He’d fretted endlessly about it until Remus assured him that a little fever after was normal, and that if he were truly sick, Sirius would know it. Werewolves were generally hearty when it came to illness, but when they got a cold, it hit hard.

“Remus?” he said softly, putting a hand gently on the spot where the curve of the man’s back rose beneath the quilts. Remus stirred slightly and opened one eye. Consciousness seemed to make him realize he wasn’t breathing well and he sputtered, his mouth opening in a gasp. His face came fully in view, revealing sunken eyes and a rather swollen looking pair of nostrils.

Remus sniffled thickly, the sound wet and heavy with congestion. His watery eyes blinked rapidly as he brought Sirius into focus.

“You look terrible,” he said, shifting to sit on the edge of the sofa as Remus struggled to sit up. He pressed a hand to Remus’ back to help support him.

“Speak for yourself,” he rasped, raising an eyebrow as he surveyed Sirius’ party hat. His voice was strained and faint, and he touched a hand to his throat, feeling the glands swelling on either side. A burning deep in his sinuses soon distracted him and he turned his face away from Sirius, snapping forward in a throaty, spraying sneeze.

Hurh’tscghhh!

“Bless you,” Sirius said.

“Better not,” Remus croaked. “If there’s anything awful about me getting a cold, it’s the damn sneezing. I’ll do enough of it to get me sainthood if you keep blessing me.”

As if on cue, he turned away again, raising an arm to shield his face.

Huhhrrh’tsghttt! Ehhh…hehh’tscghhtt!

He sniffled thickly and dissolved into a volley of dry coughs. When they faded away and he was able to speak again, he said, “I sent James and Lily an owl to say I was sorry I couldn’t come.”

“I know,” Sirius said. “But if you were sick I knew it would be bad and I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” Remus said unconvincingly.

“And I’m your grandmum,” Sirius scoffed. “Bugger off, Remus. You’re sick as a dog.”

“A dog?”

“A wolf, then,” Sirius said as Remus raised his arm to catch another sneeze.

Hurh’stshfff!

“Bless you.”

“Sainthood,” Remus croaked.

“Saint Moony, patron saint of soldiering through,” Sirius declared. “Face it; you’re a wreak. Let me stay and make you some soup.”

“You’re an awful cook.”

“Hopefully you’re too congested to taste it then,” Sirius said.

Ehrr’tsghttt!

“Yep, that confirms it. You rest, I’ll put the soup on.”

“I don’t have any in the pantry,” Remus said, reaching for a fresh tissue and folding it over his chapped nose, blowing softly before tossing the tissue into the overflowing bin. “Merlin, this is a hundred tissue cold.”

“Then I’ll go out and fetch some,” Sirius said. “And some more tissues.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Remus said. “Nothing’s open.”

“The muggle market down the street probably is.”

“And you have muggle money?”

Sirius frowned.

“Dammit. No.”

“How’s your tergeo spell?” Remus asked. “I’ve got a few handkerchiefs in my dresser but I was avoiding them because I’m too congested to pronounce the cleaning spell correctly. I tried and ended up setting one on fire.”

“Cleaning spells are not my forte, but I’ll endeavor to impress,” Sirius quipped. “And I’ll order out for soup. There’s got to be an owl delivery service open. Flim’s in your room?”

“Yeah,” Remus replied. “Give him an owl treat before you let him out or he’ll nip you. Mean bugger, that one.”

“But he’s damn fast.”

“And he was cheap,” Remus admitted, curling another tissue around his scarlet nose and blowing futilely.

Sirius disappeared into the bedroom and scribbled an order for soup on a bit of parchment, sending Flim off to the take-away restaurant. Remus’ handkerchiefs were in the top drawer of his dresser alongside a dozen pairs of nearly folded socks. Sirius took the stack and returned to his friend’s side.

Eh’tghsttt!

Remus was in the midst of another sneezing fit, his slender body curled up in defense against the uncontrollable spasms.

Hehhh’tsghtt! Hurrhh’tsgfttt! ‘Tsghftt!

Sirius carefully maneuvered a handkerchief into Remus’ trembling hands and the werewolf brought it to his beleaguered nose with a brief look of relief.

Ehh’tsghfffff!

The fit ended, leaving Remus red-faced and hot, shaking from the exertion. He didn’t attempt to blow his nose, unwilling to torture it further, and settled with dabbing away the excess moisture.

“If I sneeze enough, will my nose just fall off?” Remus groaned.

“It’s possible,” quipped Sirius, sitting on the couch alongside Remus. “I’m sure there’s a spell to do the deed if the sneezing won’t.”

“I always thought my nose was a bit on the large side,” Remus said, eyes crossing to survey his own. “Mum said it was prominent. I think it’s just plain big.”

“Your nose is lovely,” Sirius said without thinking, catching himself only after the words were spoken. “I mean, it’s fine. It’s not that big. It could be worse; you could have a nose like Snivillus.”

“Hold your tongue, Black.”

Sirius stuck his tongue out and pinched it with two fingers.

“Done,” he said, voice muddled. Remus laughed hoarsely, the sound quickly turning to a cough.

“Ugh, sorry mate,” Sirius said, releasing his tongue. “Didn’t mean to start the coughing.”

“Can’t be helped,” Remus choked out. He swallowed painfully and gave a great sniffle.

“I suppose I should let James and Lily know I won’t be returning to their party,” Sirius said, glancing at the mantle clock. An hour had passed since he’d left.

“No, go back,” Remus said, reaching for a fresh handkerchief. His breath sucked in rapidly and he held up the cloth, head snapping into a sneeze.

Ehh’tsghfftt!

“Go to the party,” he continued, wiping his nose. “I’m fine. I’ll just eat the soup and go to bed.”

“Stop it, Moony,” Sirius insisted, reaching a hand out and placing it reassuringly on Remus’ back. The smaller boy felt unnaturally warm. “I’m staying. No arguments. And now that I think of it, Lily and James already knew I’d stay. They’ll Floo in if they’re worried.”

A tap on the kitchen window announced the return of Flim, bearing a brown bag with two cartons of hot soup. Sirius let the owl in and untied the parcel, dolling out a spoon and bowl to Remus.

“Eat,” he insisted.

Remus sipped at the hot broth slowly, gradually draining half the bowl before he set it aside.

“It’s hard when you can’t taste anything,” he said with a sniffle. “The steam’s nice though; clears my nose.”

Sirius slurped up the last of his noodles and set his empty bowl alongside Remus’.

“Alright. It’s nearly ten thirty. I think you should get some rest,” he said. “Here, or in your bed?”

“I’m fine here, unless you want the couch,” Remus replied, leaning back into his nest of pillows.

“I’m not sleeping yet,” Sirius said. “You’re the sick one.”   

“I’m so tired,” Remus admitted, letting his head drop into his hands. “I barely slept at all last night. I can’t breathe.”

“Poor love,” Sirius said. He was rarely one for overt fussing, but it was Remus and Remus didn’t deserve to get sick. “C’mere.”

He extended an arm to pull Remus against him. It wasn’t the first time they’d cuddled like this, but it was usually after winter moons, when Remus shivered violently in the morning and it was necessary to get him warm. As Sirius drew the smaller man close, he felt a surge of protectiveness towards Remus.

Tucking Remus’ head against his chest, he tugged up the blankets, creating a warm cocoon around them both.

“There,” he said, smoothing back the fringe from Remus’ brow. “I’ll keep you propped up a bit to help you breathe.”

“Thanks,” Remus mumbled, eyes drifting shut. He coughed and Sirius felt the rumble of Remus’ chest vibrate in his own. After much sputtering and sniffling, Remus was finally coaxed to sleep as Sirius ran his fingers through Remus’ hair in soothing strokes.

When he woke again, Sirius was dabbing a soft handkerchief under his nose where it dripped steadily down his upper lip. The irritated nostrils ticked fiercely and he pitched forward in a sneeze, his hands racing to take the hankie from Sirius’ grip.

He managed to get it pressed to his nose before the sneeze came.

Huhh’tsghftttt!

“Bless you,” Sirius said, releasing his hold on the handkerchief and allowing Remus to catch a second sneeze.

Heh’tshh…’tsghffttt!

He blew wetly and leaned back into Sirius arms, feeling utterly drained, even after the bit of sleep.

“It’s almost midnight,” Sirius whispered.

“Mhm?” Remus asked sleepily.

“Two minutes.”

“Do you have your party hat?” Remus asked, blinking away sleep.

“It’s in the bin under your snotty tissues,” Sirius said.

“Well that’s not very useful.”

“We’ll find another way to celebrate,” Sirius said, massaging a knot in Remus’ shoulder gently.

“Perhaps I’ll sneeze on the stroke of midnight. I’m sure that’s lucky in some country somewhere.”

“I think it means someone is thinking of you,” said Sirius.

“That’s any sneeze,” Remus replied.

“Then I’m terribly sorry,” Sirius said. “I’m probably to blame for this cold. And it’s midnight in…ten….”

“Nine…”

“Eight…”

They alternated counts, interrupted by a stifled sneeze at “five” (T’sgffft!), until they reached,

“Two…”

“One…”

“Happy New Year, Padfoot,” Remus said.

Sirius leaned in and tipped Remus’ head back, kissing him gently on the lips.

“Happy New Year,” Sirius said as they broke apart.

“I’m sick, Sirius,” Remus said, wiping Sirius’ mouth with his sleeve in a vain attempt to wash away the germs.

“I don’t care,” Sirius said, leaning forward again and kissing Remus’ brow. “Happy New Year. Resolve to be with me so I can quit thinking about you and making you sneeze.”

A small laugh escaped Remus’ lips.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I may have my faults, but at least they’re not catching,” Sirius said. “I’m being honest, Moony. You know I love you; I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Is it fair to declare love to a sick man you’ve got trapped in your arms under a mess of blankets?” Remus asked, a smile betraying him. He was already leaning forward, red nose grazing Sirius’ cheek. “No more kisses until I’m better, okay?”

Sirius, never one for rules, pressed his lips to Remus’ once more.
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Challenge- Holiday 2011-2012

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