Remus hated hospitals. In the hierarchy of things he disliked with an eternal passion, hospitals fell somewhere between the lunar cycle and silver. St. Mungo's was particularly bad. The white halls were too anaesthetically impersonal, not to mention that Remus had spent some of the worst nights of his childhood lying in a hospital cot pretending he couldn't feel the moon tugging at his insides or smell his breakfast coming from three floors away.

Yes, Remus hated hospitals, and it would take something pretty urgent to drag him back into one of them. Unfortunately, James' letter had sounded exactly that urgent.

Sirius hurt. At St. Mungo's. Asking for you. Come quick.

So, with the letter clenched into a tight ball in his left hand, Remus now scrambled up the staircase in search of his friend, leaving his very nervous parents to fret in the foyer.

It wasn't hard to find Sirius' white room with the little black sign that read "4D," especially with James standing outside, leaning against the wall with his feet crossed at the ankle, his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes closed, looking very much like he was trying to disappear.

"James!" Remus was sounding anxious, and usually that would've irritated him to no end, but with Sirius lying a few feet away in godonlyknows how much pain, concerns about self-control were too trivial for Remus to care.

Priorities. I do have some grasp of them, it seems.

James opened an eye and glanced up. Seeing Remus, he smiled. "Oh thank god, you're here."

"Yes. Here." Remus' eyes darted toward the door. "Is he…ah…alright? What happened?"

James shrugged a little. "He ran his broom into a tree. Twisted his ankle, the doctors say."

Time, and the anxious fear that had been gnawing on edges of Remus' heart, seemed to crystallise and then splinter and then shatter.

In slow, measured tones: "He ran his broom…into…a tree?"

"Yes."

"His broom. Into a tree?"

"Yes."

Remus pressed two fingers to his temple. "I don't understand. Was he blindfolded?"

"You can ask him about the specifics. He wants to talk to you." James smirked a little.

And I want to talk to him. But I'm not sure I can do that without wringing his throat.

"You said it was urgent," Remus managed to grind out after a moment of intense silence.

James blinked, a little defensively. "It is!"

"He rode his broom into a tree!"

"Weeeell," James relented. "He seems to think it's urgent."

Remus shut his eyes against his emotions, against anger and worry and affection and…the other things that came up in relation to Sirius which Remus refused to give voice even in his thoughts.

Damn him for making me confront my denial. Bloody sod.

Taking a calming breath, Remus opened his eyes, opened the door and stepped into the white room. As the door clicked closed behind him, he heard a faint rustle of air that almost sounded like James beginning to laugh.

There was nothing in the white room but a white bed with white sheets and a little white chair. And Sirius who was tucked carefully into the white bed with a pad of paper on his lap and a quill tucked behind his ear and his foot raised in one of those odd sling contraption hospitals everywhere used to support broken legs.

"Sirius," Remus breathed, careful not to include any subtext in the syllables that would give away his private thoughts.

Sirius looked up, and his mouth twisted into a quick grin (dimples flashed) which quickly disappeared again. "Remus! I'm glad you made it in time. Sit down!"

Remus did as he was told, sitting stiffly and looking up into Sirius' fierce blue eyes.

"You're glad I made it in time?"

"Yes," Sirius nodded solemnly. "I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out. I… there was an accident, Moony. I'm not doing too well. I think this might be my last day on earth, and such."

Remus blinked. There wasn't much more he could do.

"Horribly mangled as I am, you know. Blood loss and such." Sirius leaned forward a little in his bed, searching for a reaction. "Broken, twisted, lying in a sepulchral bed waiting for death to claim me?"

"Sirius?"

"Yes?"

Remus paused, considering the words. "You rode your broom into a tree."

Sirius nodded encouragement. "Isn't it horrible?"

"Yes, but not in a tragic way so much as in that you managed to ride your broom into a tree! Accidentally!"

Sirius' lower lip quivered into a pout. A dramatic pout but a pout nonetheless. "If I'd been in a car, I'd probably be dead now."

Remus sunk back into faux apathy and rubbed his forehead. "Yes."

"As is, I have just enough time to administer my will…"

"Oh god."

Sirius pulled his pad up to a more prominent position on his lap and cleared his throat, glanced nervously at Remus, cleared his throat again and began.

"I, Sirius Black, being of sound mind--"

Remus snorted. "Debatable."

"AND," Sirius continued loudly, "stable body hereby blah, blah, blah. Mmmm…" Sirius trailed off, eyes skittering over the page in front of him. "Ah," he said finally, "right. To Remus Lupin, also known as Moony, I leave my secret collection of dungbombs, my collection of novelty toothbrushes, my jar of change--"

"You mean the one with the note saying 'I owe Remus five galleons" in it?" Remus asked, interrupting.

Again, Sirius ignored him and continued: "That horrifying sweater James' mother sent me last Christmas, my heart and soul, my teddybears Mr. Snuffles and Mr. Huggles, you'll know where to find them won't you, Moony?"

Remus, of course, barely registered the final comment, having stopped breathing. "What did you say?"

"My teddybears. You'll know where to find them?"

"Before that?"

"You get the ugly orange thing?"

"After that!"

Sirius pretended to study the paper, face serene but ears turning faintly pink. "You have all my heart and my eternal soul? If you…uh…want them."

"Heart and soul?" Remus repeated.

"Yes. In an, um, metaphorical-slash-symbolic way, of…um…course."

"I'd figured as much." Remus looked at his hands and cleared his throat in the same nervous way Sirius had earlier. "Uh, Padfoot?"

"Yes?"

And Remus, having no other course of action, abandoned all attempts at words and leaned forward to kiss the pratgitfuckercrazy boy. It was chaste, quick, lasting the bare breadth of a second, and then Remus pulled back, his lips parting into a tiny smile. Sirius, eyes still firmly closed, leaned forward, chasing Remus' mouth. When his lips connected with the callused palm of Remus' hand, he opened his eyes and made a small mew of discontentment.

"Mooony…"

"Careful, Sirius. You're dying, remember? I wouldn't want to damage that heart and soul before I inherit, would I?"

Sirius grunted, closed his eyes and leaned forward again. Remus, trying veryvery hard not to chuckle (or worse, giggle), ducked out of the way.

"Moony?"

"Yes?"

"Would it make you feel better if I made a confession?"

Remus did chuckle this time. "A confession about what?"

"I'm not dying."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"So…" Sirius moved forward once again, pausing a breath away from Remus to open his eyes. "Just checking to see you're still there this time."

"I'm still here," Remus assured, trying not to stare too pathetically Sirius' lips, trying not to lose all semblance of self-control, trying not to seem quite so nervous and, at the same time, quite so assured. "Hey, Sirius, can I ask one question?"

"What?"

"How did you crash into the tree?"

"Didn't. Bullied James into helping me fake it, so I could do the dramatic confession of undying love and such."

"Ah. I'd begun to suspect as much."

"Did you?"

"Did."

"Ah. Remus?"

"Hm?"

"Don't move."