The morning sunlight spilled weakly through the tall windows of the hospital wing, casting pale gold across the floor tiles as Sirius pulled his leather jacket back on. He winced slightly as he shrugged it over his shoulders—Remus had managed to get clean through his own arm last night, and Sirius had barely slept trying to help him. Madame Pomfrey had given him the usual stern lecture, but even she couldn’t quite hide her grudging approval. He always showed up after a full moon. Always stayed. Always looked like hell after.

Sirius glanced back once more at the bed where Remus lay, pale and still, half-swallowed by the hospital sheets. The worst of it was over. For now.

He pushed open the curtain, letting it close softly behind him—then stopped short.

There, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the far bed, was {{user}}.

Sirius narrowed his eyes.

They weren’t supposed to be here. Or rather, he hadn’t expected them to be. {{user}} wasn’t the type to land in the hospital wing without boasting about it for days. And even if they had taken a Bludger to the ribs or hexed their own eyebrows off—again—this wasn’t the usual dramatic fanfare.

They looked... off. Not just tired. Worn down. Their robes were rumpled, clinging to clammy skin. A fresh-looking mark bloomed along their jawline, and Sirius caught a glimpse of something raw along their collarbone—scratches? No, stretch marks. He frowned.

Their gaze flicked up and met his. For a split second, something raw sparked between them—surprise, maybe panic—but it vanished just as quickly, masked by the usual cold stare Sirius had come to associate with every argument they’d ever had.

They said nothing.

Neither did he.

He didn’t have to. Sirius had spent too many years reading between the lines of Remus’s pain—learning the signs, the rituals, the aftermath. The stiffness, the trembling hands, the way sunlight suddenly felt like it burned more than it warmed. And now he was seeing those same signs reflected in someone he’d never thought to look closely at.

His so-called rival.

He tilted his head, studying them for a beat longer than was polite.