"Splash of milk, four sugars," he recited, accepting the journal and quill. "There's a healing tea in the cupboard. Probably useless, but it always seems to help a little."
Offering a bit of a weak smile, he looked up at her.
"It always looks worse than it really is," he tried reassuring her. Partially true. It looked bad, yes, and it felt bad, definitely, but was it life threatening? Hardly.
As she went to fetch tea, he flipped to the section of his book containing notes from Harry. The day's page was blank but he could see the shimmer of hexed magic there and he pressed a palm to the page, willing the spell to break.
Words scrawled across the paper and he read, frowning at the words. He scribbled a reply that he hoped came across as reassuring, and snapped the book shut, leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes.
He needed to sleep. He needed to sleep or he was going to make himself sick again which was never fun. But how could he sleep right now? He desperately wanted to see Sirius appear in the fireplace and tell him he'd fixed everything. A stupid fantasy, but it's what he was thinking.
"Tonks?" he called. "Have you talked to Sirius? I wrote him and I got a note back saying he wasn't in the mood to talk. I need to just go up there and drag him out of his hole, but I was hoping he'd do it himself."