James lets Remus hold his hand as they follow the nurse out of the room, two floors up and into a long white corridor with wooden doors on either side.

The nurse stops in front of a door. On its dark surface, golden letters are embossed to read 408.

"The patient hasn't woken up yet," she says, "But he will, soon. When he does, please call for me. There's a button inside and all you have to do is press."

"Of course," Remus nods, squeezing James' hand. His heart is throwing its beat in his throat in a dizzyingly fast pulse. James squeezes his hand back.

"You must be anxious to see him," the nurse smiles, "I won't take up any more of your time. And... I should tell you, we don't usually let more than one person spend the night with a patient..."

"Oh, can't we both just stay?" James frowns.

The nurse shifts her weight from one foot to another, conflicted.

"Please?" James all but pouts, "I mean, it's close to six in the morning..."

"Alright, alright," the nurse sighs, "But it's our secret, okay? I'm new here, please don't get me in trouble."

"I'll hide under the bed if someone comes in," James grins, pushing the door. "Thanks a lot, miss."

The nurse smiles at Remus once more before leaving.

"Well?" James sighs, pushing the door open with his free hand, "Let's go in, yeah?"

Remus tries to swallow away the lump in his throat and takes a deep breath. He nods. James squeezes his hand again. They step in together, and Remus can't tell who's supporting whom as they press closer together.

The room has two white walls and two pale blue ones. It's very Muggle-hospital-like. There are two chairs by one wall, and a small white-coloured stand next to the bed. A red button is fixed to it, and a sticker on the wall right behind it says PRESS ME FOR ASSISTANCE.

There's a vase on the table, but it's miserably flower-less, just a blob of white ceramic with no particular purpose but to look utterly depressing. The curtains are white, too. White and lifeless.

Remus takes all this in slowly, afraid to look at the bed. Afraid to look at what's on the bed.

But eventually, he does. He has to.

He feels James tug him towards Sirius, who's been put to sleep in a pale green hospital dress. One of his hands is bandaged, from the base of his fingers to the middle of his forearm. And there's a bandage around his forehead, too, a patch of ominous red marking his left temple. There's a cut below his right eye, closed and already healing.

The Healers at the Non-Magical Injuries wing seem to be more appreciative of Muggle medicine, because there's also a cannula inserted into the back of Sirius' other hand, and he's being fed a clear liquid through it.

The Healers have clearly taken care of the worst of things, but when Remus looks closer, he can see a faint bruise on his cheek. Still, Sirius looks more peaceful than Remus is used to seeing him. He looks like he's sleeping. Sleeping while wearing a bandana of rather strange taste.

Remus puts his water bottle down on a chair right before there's a knock on the door. Both him and James jump at the sudden shattering of silence. "Should I go under the bed?" James asks. Remus shakes his head.

The door opens before he can say anything, and the Healer from earlier, Miriam Derwent, steps in. "Hello, boys," she smiles her healthcare professional smile. There's a clipboard in her hand, and also a quill.

Remus wonders if it's for the aesthetic.

"He doesn't look too bad, does he?" She asks, closing the door behind her. "I just popped in to see if you have any questions."

"Uhm, What took you so long?" James cringes as soon as he says the words, "Not in a rude way, ma'am, but... He looks like he's... not hurt at all. And..." He gives Remus a pleading look.

"And we know you spent a lot of time and effort working on him. Are there any injuries we can't see?" Remus steps in.

The Healer nods. "There was a lot of internal bleeding. We had to cut him up the Muggle way..." she clears her throat, "I mean, we had to take him in for surgery." She flinches at 'surgery' as if the word pains her. "He's broken three ribs on the right, and one on the left."

Remus glances at Sirius, who looks as peaceful as ever, fast asleep and blissfully unaware.

Miriam glances at her clipboard. "He's also broken his wrist."

"And his... head?" James asks tentatively.

"Oh, that one's just a cut. A little deep, but no fractures or anything troublesome. Don't let the blood scare you, it's nothing to worry about."

Remus wants to say that there's everything to worry about, but keeps his mouth shut.

"If that's all you need to know, I have some questions to ask, too," she says.

Remus knows what's coming.

You live together, for fuck's sake, how could you not know something was wrong?

Remus did know. That's the worst of it. He knew, and he did nothing. Nothing at all.

"He's rather weak," Miriam says, "And you don't have to put him on a scale to know he's underweight. It's not healthy. Is he food insecure?"

James gives Remus a look that says I got this. Remus watches on, biting his lip. James steps closer to the Healer. They start talking in low voices, and Remus moves away towards the window to give them some space. It takes only a couple of minutes.

When they're done, Miriam isn't smiling anymore. She writes something down, and clips the quill on to her board.

"Well. I'll leave you to yourselves, now. The nurse must have told you what to do when he wakes up," she turns to leave. She stops to point her quill at the red button, as if it wasn't obvious enough. "Just press that and someone will be right with you."

The two boys thank her once more as she leaves.

"She didn't kick me out," James rubs his hands together when the door closes behind her. "Do you want to go... see him?"

Remus bites his lip, looking at Sirius. "He's sleeping," he mumbles, mostly to himself, as he walks over to the bed. He reaches out with one hand, but Sirius looks so pale and fragile that Remus just can't bring himself to touch him. James comes to stand next to him.

They stare at Sirius in silence for a while.

"He looks so pale, doesn't he?" James asks. He's always been so astute, this James Potter.

Remus nods.

"How long do you think it'll take for him to heal?"

"I don't know," Remus says quietly. Something about hospital rooms just demands silence. Maybe it's all the white.

James moves Sirius' hair out of his face, carefully avoiding touching the bandage. Remus watches him remove his glasses to wipe at his eyes.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asks James, placing a hand on his back.

"Yeah." When James sighs, his breath comes out unsteady. They sit down, and Remus takes the water bottle into his hands. It's turned into something like a comfort object. He leans his chin on the plastic cap. "Should we call Reg?" James asks.

"I think we should let him have some rest. Both him and Auguste. They'll be here in a few hours anyway," Remus says.

"Yeah, okay... hey, Remus,"

"Mm?"

"Are you going to sleep?"

"I don't know... I felt a little sleepy earlier, but it's gone now."

"Do you mind if I take a nap? My head's starting to hurt."

Remus raises his head. "Shall I get you something for it?"

"No, no," James sighs. He has bags under his eyes. Remus has no idea how that came about. He assumed James was sleeping...

"I'll be fine. Just need to close my eyes for like, ten minutes. Running a little low on sleep these days." As if right on cue, he yawns.

"Go on, then. Get some sleep, I'll stay awake."

James' chair is in the corner of the room, so he can lean his head on the wall beside him to lower the risk of breaking his neck in his sleep. "Give your glasses to me, I'll put them over there," Remus offers, waving at the little bedside table with the button. By the time he walks over there and comes back, James is already asleep. How that is even possible, Remus doesn't know.

With a sigh, he sits down. And stands up a few minutes later, walking to the window. He peeks through the curtains. It's the same sad sky as earlier. When he realises that he's tapping his foot, he goes to sit down again. He pulls his phone and checks the time. 06:02. But sleep is nowhere near.

He gives James a glance, and smiles a little at the way he's sleeping, head nestled in the angle between the two walls and arms crossed over his chest. It doesn't look the most comfortable, that's for sure.

He then turns his eyes to Sirius, and his smile falls. He feels his throat go dry, so he drinks some water, but it doesn't help much with how his heart starts beating unhealthily fast. Like it's banging at his ribs.

Ribs. Sirius has broken four.

Remus puts his water bottle on the floor and stands up. As quietly as he can, he picks his chair up and carries it away, setting it down next to Sirius' bed. He slides on to it and leans his elbows on the bed, staring at Sirius' face.

His cheeks are so pale, and his lashes are so dark against them. His lips are pale too, and chapped.

Remus takes his uninjured hand—his left hand—gently, careful not to disturb the cannula. Sirius has long fingers, and each of their joints is well-pronounced. The black polish on his nails is chipped at the edges. Carefully, like he's holding a doll of porcelain, Remus turns Sirius' hand over, tracing the inside of his wrist, drawing his finger along the blue-green veins showing through the skin.

Feeling his vision blur with hot tears, Remus presses his face into the mattress, letting Sirius' fingers rest on his palm. He tucks his other hand under his head, crying quietly into the sleeve of his jumper.

And he cries and cries and cries until he can't anymore. Until it drains him so much that all he can manage to do is fall asleep, still holding Sirius' hand.

***

Author's Note

Not me spiralling right back into my ✨depression✨ when I get to writing the best part smh