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The wizened Welcome Witch smiles at Remus. "Are you here to see Mr. Black?"
"Y-yes. How did you know?"
"There was another young man in here just this morning in Hogwarts robes." She mistakes his surprise for excitement. "I'm sorry, dear, I saw him leave a few hours ago. But you'll find Mr. Black on the third floor, on the Cyprian Alesi Ward."
"Thanks." Remus begins climbing the stairs. As far as he knows, he's the only one free today—the only one who could possibly visit Sirius. He's planned it. James is in Cokeworth with Lily and Peter's studying for his N.E.W.T.s. If he's honest, Remus should be studying as well, but he can't resist a chance to see Sirius. And he can't go with the others.
Of course, he thinks, the healers gossip so much that he might as well not have come at all. One careless gesture and the whole hospital will know. And that brings him back to the beginning: who was visiting Sirius?
He sidesteps a young girl with a balloon on her way down and tightens his grip on his own parcel. It's not as if he doesn't want his friends to be here, and he supposes it doesn't matter so much with Peter anyways, but it's just—
"Oh, you're here for Snuffles, aren't you?"
Remus looks around. It appears he's reached the third floor, and, yes, the woman in healer's robes is talking to him. "Excuse me?" he asks, sure he's heard her wrong.
"Snuffles, you know—Sirius Black." The witch laughs. "It's a long story. You are here to see him, aren't you?" Remus nods. "Excellent. Right this way."
She leads him through the doors, although they're no more than five feet away, and when they enter the ward, Remus has to roll his eyes. There's a cluster of women around Sirius's bed. From their robes, a few of them are healers, but most seem to be visitors—and he doesn't recognize any of them, which means they're here to visit somebody else.
He clears his throat, and Sirius looks away from his flock. His eyes light up, setting warmth blossoming in Remus's chest, and then he looks more than a little embarrassed. "Er—ladies," he says, "would you excuse us?"
That's all it takes for them to leave, a gaggle of giggling witches casting vague looks backwards as they go.
Remus approaches the bed. "What did you do, kidnap them? Use a summoning charm?"
Sirius shakes his head. "I just sat here and they showed up." He brushes a candy wrapper off of the table beside his bed. "Honestly, at first it was just the healers, and then half the hospital was hanging over me."
"You didn't seem too put out about it." Remus looks through the remaining candy and selects a chocolate bar.
"Well, you won't visit me with everyone else. I have to entertain myself somehow."
Remus squirms a little, sitting in a spare chair and opening the chocolate. He doesn't want to talk about that. "And what about the healers?"
"What about them?"
"Snuffles?"
Sirius knocks his head back into the pillows. "It's not my fault!" he cries. "I just—oh, Merlin's beard." He glances hopefully at Remus, as if asking for a reprieve. "All right, it is my fault," he admits when none is forthcoming. "When they brought me in I was all loopy from the spells and the antidote they gave me, and I swore I could smell fudge. So I kept asking for it, only they told me there wasn't any, so I started sniffing for it."
Remus snorts. "If I knew, I would have brought some."
"Well, after they stopped laughing, someone went up to the visitors' tearoom and found some for me."
"So they're taking good care of you?"
"The best." Sirius thumps himself on the chest. "I swear, I could get up right now if they'd let me."
"If you could walk without your small intestine combusting, you mean."
"It hardly combusts. It just sparks, really."
"Either way, there shouldn't be any fire inside you."
Sirius points a reproving finger. "You were the one who told me that 'to love is to be on fire.'"
"It was a quote. It was romantic. You weren't supposed to take it seriously."
Sirius grins. "I take everything Siriusly. And I'll remember this—Remus Lupin talks sweet, but he doesn't mean any of it."
Remus rolls his eyes. "Lucky for you, I don't just talk sweet." He pulls the bouquet from under his robes. "They're not fudge-scented, sorry." He puts them in the vase on the table, vanishing the old flowers with a wave of his wand.
"Ah, well. I can't—" Sirius stops short and inhales deeply through his nose. "You're kidding."
"What?" Remus fights back a smile.
"Those flowers. Is that vervain?"
"Maybe."
"And betony. Er, centaury? What did you do, raid Slughorn's stores?"
"There's some St. John's-wort in there, too," Remus tells him. "Two more. You've almost got it."
"I hate Herbology," Sirius grumbles.
"I know."
"You couldn't just get me a nice, normal bouquet of roses, could you?" Sirius crosses his arms. "I swear I smell sage and—and rue?" He drops his arms. "For the love of God, Moony, you didn't."
Remus takes another chocolate bar.
"Don't make me say it." When Remus simply crunches on his chocolate, Sirius throws an empty wrapper at him. "It's from that stupid book, the one James's mum sent me last year."
"I knew you read it," Remus says triumphantly, although the effect is lessened by the fact that he's speaking through a full mouth. "You said you wouldn't but I knew—"
"Yes, yes, you're brilliant. What is it, then? That French recipe for curing the bite of a mad dog?"
"That's the one."
"You absolute ponce. It's no wonder Pete didn't bring you along to visit, you're probably just as horrid to everyone else when I'm not around."
"So it was Peter?" Remus tries not to pounce on it, but can't resist asking. "The Welcome Witch told me someone had been here."
"Yeah, he came over at ten and stayed for an hour or two. Said he wanted to have some fun before he got too deep into studying."
Well, that explains it, Remus thinks. He slept until twelve.
"Are you jealous?"
"No," Remus says, "of course not."
"What's up, then?" Sirius stops fiddling with his pillowcase.
Remus sighs. In a matter of seconds, the joking atmosphere has evaporated, and he's left with the usual feeling of guilt. He doesn't mean to suck the life out of a conversation, it just always, always happens. His mum has always said that he walks around with a pit in his heart. As often as she adds, "it's the sweetest fruits that have pits," he can't help feeling a bit forlorn.
"Don't do this," Sirius says. "Don't shut yourself inside your head. Talk to me."
"It's stupid," Remus says, feeling stupid for saying so. When Sirius disagrees colorfully, Remus makes a face. "I mean, it's really nothing. It's silly."
"Hey," Sirius said, and reaches out to touch Remus's knee, "if it's bugging you, it's not silly."
Remus grimaces, crosses his legs, then uncrosses them. He rubs his face with both hands. "I don't even know where to begin."
"Maybe start with how you feel?"
It's always been a bit ironic to Remus that Sirius, with his dreams of curse-breaking and penchant for leather, is so much better at feelings than Remus, who has always harbored a love for scented candles. But he supposes that's part of the reason they're together in the first place. "I feel... afraid."
"Of what?"
He's tempted to say that it's a ridiculous fear, but of course that won't get him anywhere. "People knowing about us."
Sirius hesitates, and Remus waits with bated breath. It's an old conversation, one that's had a varying script over the past three years. Somehow he never can never let it drop. Sirius seems to fluctuate between sympathy and amusement at the whole thing.
This time it's the former. "They don't have to know," he promises. "It can wait. There's no need to worry." He raises his eyebrows. "Is there?"
"With the way these healers talk…"
"They think I've got a girlfriend," Sirius assures him. "Remy from Inverness. She's a beautiful woman."
"Remy from—? Oh, wonderful." Remus shakes his head. "It's not just that. I—I know I'm a bit of a coward about all this—"
"I wish I had half the guts you do," Sirius interrupts sharply.
Although he's grateful, Remus ignores that. "—I'm always too worried about everything, and it's been bothering me for a while now, but I wasn't quite sure how to fix it." He talks faster to forestall Sirius, who's opening his mouth again. "I want to come out."
"Excuse me?"
"I want to come out." Just saying that, Remus feels slightly sick. It's awful to imagine what the real thing would be like.
"Are you sure?" Sirius asks, and Remus doesn't blame him.
But he is sure. "Yes. I've been a prat for mistrusting everyone—well, no," he admits when Sirius looks upset, "I haven't, but I feel like it. And I'm frustrated with myself for taking so long. And…" He hadn't meant to let it all out like this, but why stop now? "And at the same time I'm still terrified, because I don't know how, and what if it changes everything?"
"Well," Sirius says, "first of all, it won't change everything. James has known about me since fourth year, remember? And Peter's known since fifth."
"I said it was silly," Remus reminds him.
"Second," he continues, "you don't need to know how if you know it'll be all right."
Remus purses his lips. "I need a plan. I can't just do things. I have to have an—an escape hatch, or something. I'm so scared." He half-whispers the last part around a lump in his throat. Standing, he riffles through the candy on the table, trying to wipe his eyes inconspicuously.
"Come here, you." Sirius catches his elbow and pulls him closer. Remus loses his balance and falls, ending up sprawled across the bed and Sirius both.
"Sorry," Remus says, trying to get up, but Sirius holds him fast. Their faces are less than a foot apart. They've never been this close in daylight before.
"Is this all right?" Sirius asks.
Remus knows he doesn't just mean the hand on his back—he means the hospital bed, the open curtains, the other patients all along the ward. He nods.
"This is how," Sirius says. From the tenderness in his voice, he must have seen the tears.
"How what?"
"How you come out, silly." He leans forward, or Remus does, and then their lips meet.
It's a very chaste kiss, but Remus feels something stirring—something deep inside falling quietly into place as, for the first time, the warmth of Sirius's hands mixes with the warmth of sunlight.