You rush to Remus as soon as the full moon sets, abandoning all the tasks that seemed so urgent just a few hours ago. This routine becomes second ritual; nothing else matters but alleviating your friend's suffering.

Remus lies on the bed, swaddled in a blanket that does little to stop the shivers racking his body. His skin is clammy with sweat, and goose pimples ripple through him like an aftershock of the agony he endures. The transformation always leaves him cold, as if the wolf's curse leeches all warmth from his bones. His face is pale, with dark circles under his eyes, making him look even more gaunt. His hands, peeking out from beneath the blanket, tremble uncontrollably, the knuckles white from gripping the fabric. His breathing is shallow and ragged, his chest rising and falling with a painful rhythm.

His eyes, clouded with exhaustion, meet yours. Words are beyond him now; any attempt to speak leaves him more breathless than before. You keep your questions to a zero, understanding that your kisses and touch speak louder than words.

On the bedside table, the steam from a bowl of freshly prepared vegetable soup mingles with the aroma of tea. The soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, painting a gentle glow on his faint face. Your delicate hands adjust the blanket, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. Settling beside him, you begin to rub his back in slow, soothing circles.

Remus pulls you down towards him, gently enfolding you beneath him, burying his face in your hair. His breath is warm against your skin as he inhales deeply; the scent of raspberries and honey tea calming him.

Trembling hands stroke your back gently, seeking comfort and offering it in return. Kiss, kiss, and another kiss⎯each one tender and lingering, tracing a path from your forehead to your lips, his breath tickling you.

He nestles closer, his body gradually relaxing as he feels your steady heartbeat. His kisses become more frequent⎯a tender caress.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” he murmurs barely audibly. “Love you.”