#tick bite

“What? You did?” she blurted, rushing over “Y/N, are you hurt? How do you feel? Did anything happen? Where were you? Are you bleeding?”

Before you could answer, she pressed a cool hand to your forehead with practiced swiftness, then slipped her fingers lightly around your wrists, checking for tremors, bruises, anything that could even suggest injury.

“I’m fine!” you insisted, grinning so wide it practically split your face. “Seriously, I’m fine. I just— I did it. I actually did it.”

Capri’s shoulders dropped in relief, her smile softened into something warm and proud. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I knew you could do it, didn’t I?” she teased, nudging you gently. “Now, tell me everything.”

Time Skip: Present Day (Tuesday Afternoon)

If Saturday had been one of your best days ever, Tuesday was… the complete opposite.

You’d been shivering on and off since last night, muscles aching like you’d ran laps around the quad, and your head… well, it felt like someone was playing the drums inside it. You’d barely slept. Even dragging yourself toward Music – your favourite class, for reasons you adamantly claimed had nothing to do with a certain ring-fiddling, worry-prone teacher – felt like wading through syrup.

You slumped into your usual seat and let your head rest heavily in your hand.

Around you, the classroom buzzed with energy – a low, echoing vibration of students tuning string instruments, the heavy scrape of chairs against the wood floor, the soft, tinny resonance of old brass warming up. Every sound felt too sharp, too loud, like the whole room had turned its volume up a few too many notches.

You zoned out almost immediately.

Capri had been showing the class a chord progression on the board, but her voice drifted into a foggy background haze. The notes blurred. The chalk squeak made your skull throb.

You didn’t notice her glance at you.

Then glance again.

Then stare, worry etched between her brows as she spun her rings around her fingers, a tell for anxiety you’d learned to spot easily.

Finally:

“Y/N?”

You didn’t react.

Capri’s tone sharpened. “Y/N.”

Still nothing.

She raised her voice - not loudly, but enough to make several heads turn.

“Y/N!”

You snapped upright, heart jolting.

“What?!” you barked – short, sharp, irritated without meaning to be.

A couple of students gasped. One even snorted.

The room fell silent.

Capri didn’t chastise you. Didn’t even look annoyed. Instead, she blinked once, surprised by your tone, then said gently but firmly:

“Please stay after class.”

And just like that, she went back to teaching, though she kept glancing over – watching every sluggish blink, every wince, every time your hand drifted back to rub the base of your neck.

Slight Time Skip: After Class

You didn’t even try to pack up when the bell rang. Your head was down on the desk, arms folded like a pillow, shivering, while the class filtered out.

“Y/N?” Capri said softly from the front. “Come here, sweetheart.”

When you didn’t move, she walked to your desk herself and bent slightly, brushing hair out of your face, touching your forehead just like she had days ago – yet this time, you jolted away instinctively.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re burning up, Y/N,” she murmured, frowning deeply. 

“What? No, I’m freezing.” Your voice cracked, a testament to how cold you felt.

Capri didn’t argue. She was already striding to a cabinet, pulling out the classroom medical kit with practiced urgency.

“Come here.”

You groaned but stood slowly, wobbling just a little, as you made your way to her desk.

“Ms Capri, I don’t–”

“Uh-huh.” She flicked the ear thermometer on, not breaking eye contact. “Tilt your head.”

“What? No.”

“Y/N.”

"Why?'

"Y/N."

“Do you enjoy bossing me around?”

“Immensely.” She didn’t smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched slightly. “Tilt, please.”

You sighed the sigh of someone suffering great injustice.

The thermometer beeped and Capri didn’t even try to hide her alarm. “Your temperature’s high.”

“I don’t feel hot.”

“That’s your fever talking.” she said, looking at the device like it had personally offended her.

You grumbled. Then absentmindedly scratched the back of your neck, like you had been doing all weekend without realising.

Capri’s eyes snapped up.

She stilled completely.

Then her breath hitched in realisation. “Oh. Oh – Y/N, sweetheart… turn around.”

“What? Why?”

“Just- trust me.”

“No, what are you—?”

“Turn.”

You turned, obeying the ‘Dorm Mum’ voice reluctantly. Capri gently swept your hair away from your neck.

A beat of silence.

Then:

“Oh, you poor thing,” she whispered.

“What?! What is it? What do I have? Am I dying? Is my head about to fall off?”

Capri didn’t answer.

Instead she discarded the medical kit, took your wrist, and said:

“Come with me.”

“What? Where? Why?”

“Just come.”

You protested halfheartedly the whole walk – all of which Capri ignored.

The Lupin Cages

“Ms Capri, why are we– are you locking me in a cage? Because I really don’t see why, it’s not a full–”

Capri ignored your rambling entirely, rummaging through a supply box until she pulled out a small metal tool that you’d never seen before.

She stepped behind you again, sweeping your hair aside.

“Stay still. This might sting,” she murmured.

“What might– HEY!”

A sharp pinch, a tug, and–

You whipped around. “What was that for?!”

Capri calmly lifted the tiny device between two fingers. Dangling from it was a small, round, awful little bug.

Your stomach flipped. “What. Is. That?”

“A tick,” Capri said matter-of-factly, “You must’ve picked it up when you wolfed out Friday night. We get them pretty often. They usually detach themselves once we transform back. But this one…” She smirked. “Liked you too much.”

“Thats disgusting.”

“You’re telling me. I had to touch it.” She dropped it into a jar, sealing it with clinical disgust. Then – to your genuine shock – she placed it on the counter, leaned down, and said sternly:

“You. Caused. A fever.”

You stared.

She scolded the tick again. “Absolutely unacceptable.”

You laughed in disbelief “are you serious?”

“Yes.” She flicked the jar like it deserved consequences. “I’m furious.” 

You were about to laugh more when a wave of dizziness slammed into you. Capri caught your elbow instantly, before your knees buckled.

“Okay,” she said, tone firm and protective. “Bed. Now.”

“I don’t need–”

“Nope.” She guided you toward a Lupin cage cot – hard, thin mattress, scratchy blanket – “you’re exhausted. Lie down.” 

“But–”

She gave you a look. The look.

You crumbled.

Within seconds of your head hitting the worn pillow, you were asleep.

Slight Time Skip: Later that night 

You woke slowly.

Warm. Clear-headed. Not dying.

You blinked up at the dim, lantern-lit Lupin room. Your body felt… normal again. A little sore, but nothing compared to earlier.

A soft tapping sound reached your ears.

Capri, a few feet away, at a metal table, typing on her laptop. She’d removed her heels, tucked her legs under herself, and was spinning a ring around her thumb whilst working.

She looked up the moment you moved.

“There you are,” she whispered, closing the computer. “How do you feel?”

You sat up slowly, still waking up. “Better. Way better.”

She came over immediately and pressed the back of her hand to your forehead – for the third time that week.

“You’re cooler,” she murmured, relieved.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” you mumbled, though you didn’t lean away this time.

“I’m allowed to worry,” she muttered softly, brushing your hair from your face. “Especially when my pup is sick.”

Your heart warmed, “pup?”

She smirked. “Well, you’ve had your first tick. You’re officially part of the pack.”

“That’s the worst milestone ever.”

“Necessary,” she countered.

You rubbed your face. “I still can’t believe something that tiny did… all this,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the cage, the blanket, your entire existence. “I thought it was some sort of delayed wolf-out reaction.”

Capri exhaled shakily, finally sitting on the edge of the bed. “You scared me, you know? I’ve never seen you so out of it. Or snap at me.” She tried to smirk.

“I didn’t – snap.”

“You glared at my piano, Y/N...”

“Okay. Maybe I snapped a little.”

“...think you made it uncomfortable.”

“Stop, this is already embarrassing enough,” you groaned, covering your face.

“No. Just concerning.” She nudged your shoulder, laughter dying down. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

You were about to thank her before:

Your stomach growled. Loud. Echoing off the stone walls.

You froze. 

“…Don’t even–” you warned.

“I’m not going to tease you for being hungry,” she said, putting her shoes on. “I already know you didn’t have dinner.”

“You do?”

She gave you a look. “Sweetheart, I was with you all evening. If you weren't eating, neither was I.”

Your heart squeezed.

She offered her hand to help you stand.

“Come on. Let’s get you fed,” she said warmly, before smirking. “Wouldn’t want you getting ticked off again.”

You gasped dramatically, whacking her arm. “Oh my god – shut up!”

Capri laughed – a real, full laugh – and you couldn’t help laughing too as she led you out of the cages, a protective hand steady on your back, eyes tracking your balance like she was ready to tackle gravity itself if it tried anything.

The End :)

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Authors Note:

Ahhh! Thank so much for reading!! If you got this far- I officially love you.

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