"You don't look like a dragon," Remus observed.

"No," agreed Sirius; his voice was weak and fading. "I look like a pox, though. Pock. Whichever."

The men's side of the St. Mungo's epidemic ward was teaming with people: healers running up and down the aisles with potions and bandages, house-elfs disappearing and reappearing with bowls of soup and steaming goblets, and men, sick men everywhere, along with some boys, snoring, yawning, eating, reading newspapers, yelling for medicine and trying desperately, desperately not to scratch. A few beds away a little boy had scratched his arm until it bled; his screams were the loudest noise in the room, despite the healers wrapping his arm and pushing spoonfuls of potion towards his mouth.

"Stupid kid," Sirius murmured sleepily. "They told him not to scratch it. I'm surprised they let you in. Almost no one gets in here to visit."

"I was lucky," Remus said. "I had dragon pox when I was a baby, and it was so bad that my parents brought me here. So it's in their records that I've had dragon pox. Once you've had it you can't have it again, you know."

"Yeah. That's what they told us."

"Prongs and Wormtail are somewhere in the lobby," said Remus. "Prongs told them he'd had dragon pox, but they wouldn't let him in without some kind of record. I was going to sneak Wormtail in – he claims you can't get dragon pox if you're a rat – but he accidentally let his tail stick out of my pocket and the witch at the desk just about went mental." Sirius grinned. "She wanted to have him killed and dissected to find any diseases he might have brought in, but Prongs talked her out of it."

"He couldn't give me anything worse than what I've got," Sirius said, pulling back one pajama sleeve and looking at his arm. It was covered in purplish-red pockmarks the size of thumbprints. "They're all over. I think there are some on my scalp." He leaned closer to Remus and whispered, "There are a few on my bits, even. Will you still love me if I have a pockmarked cock?"

"No," said Remus, smiling. "I'll leave you for Peter."

"Ha, ha. Give me a kiss, wanker."

Remus stared. They'd never kissed in public. "Here?"

"I could be dying, Moony." Sirius flung his head back dramatically, black hair splaying over the pillow. "I could be on my deathbed hours from perishing, and you won't even kiss me goodbye." His voice rose higher. "Do I mean nothing to you? Am I so repulsive in my disease? Is Peter's wormy tail preferable to my pockmarked – "

"You can't be that close to death if you've got your energy back," Remus muttered. People in the nearby beds were beginning to stare. "If I kiss you do you promise to shut up?"

"If you give me a good kiss."

Remus leaned in, planning to quickly press his lips to Sirius's and be done with it, but before he quite realized what was happening, Sirius had wrapped his arms around his neck and he could feel Sirius's tongue sliding into his mouth. There were gasps from all sides of them, as well as a couple of whoops. Remus's cheeks were burning; he tried to push Sirius away, but Sirius clung to him stubbornly. Sirius had just grabbed Remus's arse when a flustered voice said, "Boys – boys, if you could – "

Remus was released at last. He looked up to see one of the healers standing next to the bed; he had brown curly hair and a nervous expression. "I – I would appreciate it if you could stop – distracting the other patients," he said, wiping the palms of his hands on his robe. "They need to rest and – "

"Okay," said Sirius, shrugging. He smiled at the healer, who gave him a small, jerky smile in return and rushed away down the aisle.

Sirius grinned. "Probably has to find a cupboard to hide in until his hard-on goes away."

Remus's cheeks were still red. "God, Sirius, why do you have to do things like that? What if he'd thrown me out? You'd be stuck here without any visitors until you got better because you have to act like such a – " Sirius's smile disappeared. There was a blank, guarded expression on his face, and Remus was just about to apologize when he realized that Sirius was looking at something behind them. He turned around to see a tall, equally blank-faced woman standing a few feet away from the end of the bed.

She had thick black hair wrapped in a large coil on the back of her head; her eyes were dark where Sirius's were pale, but her nose could have come from Sirius's own face. She was wearing a green robe, and on one hand was an enormous silver ring with a black stone.

She stepped closer. "Regulus told me about him," she said to Sirius. There was no feeling in her voice. "I was hoping he was mistaken."

"'Him' is called Remus," Sirius retorted. "He's not deaf, which means he can hear how you're talking about him like he's not here, and he's not mute, which means he can introduce himself if you stop acting like he's deaf."

"At least he seems to have more sense than you do," she said, ignoring what Sirius had said. "You always have to make a spectacle of yourself."

Remus swallowed. "He can make a spectacle of himself," he said slowly, his heart pounding, "as much as he bloody well wants to as far as I'm concerned."

Her head turned sharply towards him. "I really don't have anything to say to you," she snapped, her eyes flashing. "I don't think I was ever taught how to speak properly to a half-blood who sodomizes my son."

"The same way you talked to the other half-blood who sodomized your other son," Sirius said. "Remember Snape? Did Regulus tell you that? If you don't believe me, slip some Veritaserum to your dear nephew-in-law Lucius and see what he tells you when you ask him."

Remus thought he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes, but a split second later she said icily, "I thought perhaps being ill had made you reconsider our estrangement. I see I was wrong."

"Very wrong," said Sirius. "And if you don't have a civil thing to say to Remus, I don't have anything to say to you."

"You'll regret this one day," she said. Her voice was deadly soft, but somehow Remus could still hear her over the clamor of the ward. "That's not a threat, Sirius, it's a fact. Eventually, when you manage to grow up you'll realize that you've abandoned the people you belong with for a lot of – "

"Excuse me…" said a timid voice.

The nervous, curly-haired healer had returned again, still wiping his sweaty palms. "I, er, I don't mean to offend, but I really think that, well, speaking strictly from a medical perspective, it – if he wants you to leave it would really be better if you did," he said, biting his lip. He looked, Remus thought, as though he were about to faint from sheer anxiety.

Sirius's mother turned to him. "We'll always take you back," she said to him.

"You won't take me back the way I am," replied Sirius. "You won't take me back thinking half-bloods and Muggle-borns are just as good as purebloods, you won't take me back still loyal to my friends. You won't take me back with Remus."

"You're right," she said. "We won't." She gave him one last look – not a malicious look at all, Remus thought – turned, and was gone.

"You don't belong with her," Remus said at once. "You don't belong with any of them, Sirius, you belong with us, with me and James and Peter, and what in the bloody hell does she mean, when you manage to grow up? It's a lot more grown up to know what you believe in and not just go along with what everyone else in your family thinks, and if you have to go and snog me in front of an entire epidemic ward, then, well, you have to go and snog me in front of an entire epidemic ward, because it's just the way you are. And I love you," he finished awkwardly. He could tell his face had gone red again; Sirius was looking at him curiously.

"I love you too, you red-faced pockmarked-cock-loving wanker," he said, reaching for Remus's hand.

They sat like that for a few moments, Sirius holding Remus's hand as two men a few beds away argued loudly about cards and the curly-haired healer ran down the row to stop a snoring old wizard from scratching his pox in his sleep. Finally Sirius said, "Moony, I think I'm getting tired again."

"Must be worn out from snogging." Remus lifted the spotted hand and kissed it. "I'll be back on Saturday if you're still here."

"I will be. No one gets to leave until their pock-things are all healed over, and mine haven't reached the pus stage."

"That'll be attractive."

"Admit it. You always think I'm attractive."

"Of course I do," Remus said.

In the lobby he found his mother, who was sitting on a bench. "Hello," she said, rising from her seat. "I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd come and see if you were done yet. I saw James and Peter outside, they told me they'd been thrown out. Something about Peter's pet rat?"

"No idea," Remus said.

"Well, anyway, the roast in the oven ought to be done by the time we get home. I finished mending your bag where it ripped. Have you got more ink on your sleeve? You have. Honestly, Remus, some days I don't know what I'm going to do with you." She smiled and opened the door.