Midnight Delivery

Slowly, he seeped out of his drowse, dragging reluctant lids back from unadjusted, throbbing eyes. His skin prickled against the stiff, clean sheets pulled tightly over his body--he was tucked in, just like a child. He was a child, after all.

Just a child, and an ill one. Even the light from the door at the end of the row gave his eyes a pain that turned his stomach with its ferocity. Carefully, and without a sound, he turned over so as not to see the piercing brightness that reflected all the way down the polished tiled floor. Burying his face in his pillow, he stifled a moan and tried to concentrate on something else. Quidditch. He didn't play. School. Even he, an otherwise good student, was horrified at the consequences this missed time in his studies would do to his grades. He turned his feverish thoughts elsewhere.

His new friends. Would they be worried about him being ill so frequently? All the other times had been excuses for his usual malady; this time, he really was suffering from something other than a full moon, and it probably didn't mean anything to them; they had already gotten used to his clockwork failings of immunity. How long would it be before they cast him off, just like the other bored kids at the Muggle school he had attended until he was eleven? How long would it be before they decided that a playmate who couldn't play every day like normal children wasn't worth waiting around for?

He sighed and turned his head to the side, breathing in a gulp of fresher air. He was ill, and he was transforming tomorrow night--he could barely leave his bed, because of the creakiness usually attendant to his transformation with the addition of his unrelated fever and chills. It wasn't fair. His transformation made the illness worse; his illness made the transformation worse; he wanted to die. He couldn't remember ever feeling so sick, and he wanted his Mum. It was only three months into his first school year, and he needed his Mum desperately.

He heard a noise on the other side of the outer door. Quickly, he closed his eyes, in case it was another adult come to check on him; he didn't want to talk to another adult, unless they were his Mum. Maybe it was his Mum. His eyes closed, he imagined her entering the Infirmary, felt her gentle touch brushing his hair back from his forehead like she used to when he was even littler and sick. He imagined her nice, comforting Mum scent and could almost hear her gentle humming, the tune she sang to him to put him to sleep, so different from anything else she sang or hummed when washing dishes or gardening. But, before he could capture the drifting melody in his memory and define it in his mind, he heard something else, something definitely real.

"Oy, I told you he'd be sleeping."

"Shut it, it's hard to sleep when you're ill."

"How would you know, you're never ill, Sirius..."

"Of course I get ill, idiot."

"Yeah, Peter, shut it."

"What if we wake him up?"

"We'll sneak out and leave you here to e'splain to the authorities. Sound like a plan, James?"

"Most excellent. Better start working on that story, Peter, you're gonna have to be creative."

"Hey! You guys wouldn't leave me here! That's it. I'm going back."

"No you aren't! Sirius' just pulling your leg."

"Shh, I thought I saw something on the other end move. Madam P's gonna check on him soon, I bet."

"Oy, Sirius, let's leave it here for him, and he'll find it in the morning."

"Good plan, James. Let's move quick, now."

Remus suppressed the urge to flinch as he heard movement around him. He trusted his new friends, even though James and Sirius especially seemed inclined to make trouble. He wondered what kind of mischief they were planning to create for him, and whether it would be a kind to be grateful for, or a kind that would shove him into the market for new friends yet again. It would be too embarrassing to open his eyes now and let them know he had heard them all along, so he continued to pretend to sleep, patiently waiting for the moment they would be gone and he could see what they had done for (or to) him. He heard the curtains around his bed being drawn; several charms being cast, mostly by Sirius, but some by James--charms he might have been able to identify if his illness hadn't left his sinuses clogged and his senses dulled. Then, a small clatter; "Oy, Peter, would you be less of a clumsy git? You'll wake him up..."; a snap, and then James again: "I think I hear Madam P. C'mon, let's get outta here..."; a pattering of feet.

"Madam P" was indeed approaching, and Remus, relaxing amazingly now that he was no longer surrounded by questionable mischief makers, snuggled further into his blankets, feeling a chill coming on. He opened his eyes, resolved to not spend any more time stressfully feigning sleep, as he wasn't very sure of his acting skills in front of an experienced audience. He noticed something very curious; what appeared to be a fluffy grey-white rain-cloud was cheerfully levitating above his bed.

As the Hogwarts school nurse carefully pulled back the curtains surrounding the bed, both she and her patient received a big surprise. With a mild pop and a loud raspberry noise, a banner unrolled from the cloud, reading "Get Well Soon, Remus!". But even more unusual was the gentle drizzle of Chocolate Frogs that started raining on the Infirmary bed, each frog sporting a ribbon repeating the banner's message.

When the Chocolate Frog Cloud had exhausted itself of its contents, it evaporated with another raspberry noise and left behind the echo of a soft scent reminiscent of the inside of a candy shop. The Chocolate Frogs hopped about nervously within the bed curtains, croaking anxiously. Remus reached for one and tentatively looked at it before biting its head off. Madam Pomfrey may not have approved, but the young boy couldn't keep an insistent smile from crossing his face and remaining there for the rest of the long night.

***

Well, that's it. I'm not so happy with this story; I usually write less "serious" in mood and tone stuff, but this is what hopped in to my mind, as it were. Let me know if it's too boring.