Chapter Text
3 a.m finds Regulus sitting at the front desk, sipping on an instant black coffee from the mess room, and praying to God that Euphemia Potter is going to walk through those double doors to the cardio ward and tell him that someone is on the verge of death, so that he can scrub in on a surgery for last four hours of his shift.
So imagine his surprise when his wish immediately comes true and the usually very stoic Dr. Potter bursts through the door to the ward with her dark red scrubs completely dishevelled, her main of Black hair coming completely loose, and her face drained of all colour as her breathing becomes more and more erratic.
Regulus stands immediately. If Effie can’t be composed then it’s likely a personal matter. He races from behind the desk to meet her halfway and grab hold of her shoulders. They’re the same height, so it’s fairly easy to lock her eyes with his and force her to match his breathing rhythm.
“What is it?” He says, voice commanding but not cold.
“My- my son- James- he’s- I need you’re help, I- I’m a conflict of-” Regulus holds up his hand to silence her.
“Lead the way.” He says, she nods and starts walking straight back the way she came. Regulus close on her tail. Regulus had spent the last few hours in between rounds, paperwork, and meetings with Slughorn, the other Cardio consultant than Effie on shift.
For this reason, he was absent when she was paged down to emergency, and now he’s about to find out why. The doors to emergency open before he’s broken into a run. Regulus always loved emergency. Blood and broken bones, monitor beeps overlapping and emergency surgery’s left right and centre. It makes him feel a bit like a kid in a candy store.
Not today however, because Effie’s son in currently being wheeled in by Paramedics, and Effie has had to sprint up and down to the Cario ward to get Regulus before someone could even utter the words ‘conflict of interest’.
He makes his way quickly to the bed being wheeled across the ward. A man lays there, pale and sweaty. His breathing is erratic through the oxygen mask, and his eyes are unfocused, whilst darting about the unfamiliar room. As they get him through the paramedic starts,
"James Potter. Twenty-six-year-old male. Sudden onset chest pain approximately thirty minutes ago. Collapse at home. Pain described as severe, central chest, radiating to the back. GCS fourteen. Hypotensive throughout transport."
"Any history?" Regulus asks.
The paramedic shakes his head. "Mother said healthy. No known cardiac issues."
The trolley stops and Regulus gets a good look at James Potter, drenched in sweat, his face ghostly pale, lips tinged grey, chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. One hand is clutched over his sternum while the other hangs limply off the side of the bed. A low groan escapes him. "Mum..."
Euphemia visibly flinches but Regulus catches it. The tiny crack in her composure, the reminder that the patient on the trolley isn't just another emergency but her son.
"Let's get him onto our monitor," Regulus orders.
The team moves immediately, ECG leads, blood pressure cuff, oxygen, IV access and questions fired in rapid succession.
"When did the pain start?" Regulus asks
James winces. "Half an hour... maybe."
"Any trauma?"
"No."
"Shortness of breath?"
A nod. The monitor suddenly chirps. Heart rate: 145. Blood pressure: 78/42. The room quietens. That's bad, very bad.
"Chest sounds?" Regulus continues in a commanding tone.
One of the emergency doctors listens quickly. "Clear."
"Pulse deficit?" Lily – the oncall nurse - checks both wrists then pauses.
"Left radial is weaker."
Regulus's eyes narrow into a frown, Interesting. The blood pressure cycles again, but lower this time.
James sucks in a sharp breath and suddenly arches off the bed. The sound that leaves him is somewhere between a gasp and a cry.
"It feels like it's tearing."
The words freeze him. Tearing, radiating to the back, pulse difference. Regulus feels the pieces begin clicking together. He looks at Slughorn, Effie’s replacement and the man looks right back. They've both landed on the same conclusion, though neither can say it aloud, not whilst his mother is watching.
"Get bloods." Already done.
"Portable chest x-ray." On its way.
"Echo." A junior doctor immediately reaches for the ultrasound.
Euphemia has gone frighteningly still. Not because she's panicking, but because she's thinking, watching, diagnosing, despite every instinct screaming at her to be a mother instead.
The ultrasound probe touches James's chest whilst Regulus and Slughorn crowd around the screen. A few seconds pass. Then Slughorn swears quietly.
"Jesus Christ." Regulus feels his pulse jump, whilst Slughorn points at the image.
"Pericardial effusion." He breathes. Blood around the heart, not much, but enough. Enough to explain the worsening blood pressure. Enough to turn a suspicion to a reality.
"CT?" a registrar asks. James groans again as his pressure drops to sixty-nine systolic. Slughorn makes the decision instantly.
"Straight to scanner."
The trolley starts moving again. beside him, for the first time since arriving, Regulus hears Euphemia Potter whisper something under her breath. A prayer, because she already knows what they're going to find, and if she's right, if Regulus is right, her son is in for a rough few hours.
***
The CT confirms everyone's fear as the images appear on the screen. For several seconds nobody speaks, a tear runs through the ascending aorta like a little jagged lightning bolt, a Type A dissection extending dangerously close to the aortic root.
Slughorn exhales slowly, "Well."
Across the room, Euphemia is staring at the scan with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her face gives away nothing, she’s almost on par with Regulus at concealing emotion on the job. Only Regulus notices her fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into her sleeves.
"OR now," he says to which Slughorn nods in agreement. The spell breaks and once again everyone moves.
James is barely conscious for the transfer, the morphine has taken the sharpest edge off the pain, but not much, he drifts in and out as the trolley moves towards theatre.
The fluorescent lights pass overhead in a blur and at one point his eyes open.
"Where's my mum?" Regulus glances beside them. Euphemia is walking alongside the bed, and Regulus knows it’ll be him who forces Euphemia out of the theatre.
"Right here."
James manages a weak smile. "Thought so."
The smile disappears as another wave of pain hits. His hand searches blindly, and Euphemia catches it immediately, "I'm here."
For a moment she sounds less like one of the most respected surgeons in the country and more like every frightened parent who has ever stood beside a hospital bed. James squeezes her fingers once, then the theatre doors arrive.
The line where family stops and surgeons begin. James notices immediately and his eyes flick between Euphemia and Regulus. Something uncertain flashes across his face. Not fear exactly, but awareness. People always know more than doctors think they do.
“Effie.” Regulus turns to the woman.
“I’m coming in.” She glares at him. Something Regulus has never seen the woman do before. She’s usually bright smiles and kindness that Regulus simultaneously despises and admires.
“No, you’re not. I will call security if I must.” Regulus says, because despite the respect he holds for her, he cannot operate on her son whilst she’s present in the room.
She turns to look at him properly, then moves around the head of the table stand directly Infront of him. Warm hazel eyes finding cold red ones. Regulus does not wish to get into a fist fight with this woman, but instead of taking a swing at him, she places her hands on his shoulders, like he did to her merely hours earlier.
“Bring him back to me, Regulus. Promise me.”
He can’t make promises. Effie knows that. It’s the number one rule of surgery. Especially for a patient in James’ predicament.
He sets his jaw, face a stony mask of indifference. “I promise.”
---
The operation begins at 4:12 a.m. Regulus scrubs in, masks, gowns, gloves, the familiar ritual. Surgery settles him and silences his mind with a rush of adrenaline. Anyone could be lying on the table in front on him and it makes no odds to Regulus, because in the theatre he is Doctor first, Regulus second.
Rabastan - the anaesthetist - finishes securing the airway. "Stable."
"Let's get started." Slughorn says.
The first incision is made. The sternotomy follows. Bone divided. Chest opened. The reality of the damage becomes immediately apparent.
"Christ," mutters one of the registrars.
Blood has already begun collecting around the heart. Not enough to stop it completely, but enough to come frighteningly close.
"Bypass." Regulus says. Slughorn is one of his favourite consultant’s, second only to Effie. Not because he lets Regulus scrub in on his surgery’s, but he trusts Regulus. He let’s Regulus take charge, give orders, perform complicated procedures, despite only being in his second year of Specialty training.
The perfusion team moves and cannulas are inserted. The machine takes over the work of the heart and lungs.
One step after another, the operation becomes a sequence of tiny battles. control bleeding, protect the brain, preserve the valve, replace the damaged section.
Hours disappear. Outside theatre, dawn begins creeping across the sky. Inside, nobody notices. At six in the morning Regulus's shoulders ache. At seven his back is screaming. At eight somebody quietly hands him a fresh cup of coffee he doesn't remember drinking.
The dissection has extended further than the scans suggested. There are moments when progress seems impossible, moments when blood appears faster than it can be controlled, moments when the monitor alarms and every heart in the room stops.
But each crisis passes slowly, one stitch at a time and by nine o'clock the replacement graft is finally in place. The repair looks good. Remarkably good. Regulus stares at it for several long seconds checking and checking again for leaks or bleeding.
The reconstructed aorta holds and the room remains silent because nobody wants to be the first person to celebrate. Not yet. Not until the heart starts again.
Bypass flow is reduced and everyone watches, waiting quietly as the heart sits motionless. Then a twitch. Small, and barely visible, but there. Then another, and then-
A beat.
Weak, and slow, but there. A collective breath leaves the room as the rhythm strengthens and steadies and becomes its own again. The monitor settles into a regular pattern. And Slughorn and Regulus come to terms with the fact that neither will have to tell Euphemia Potter that her son died on their table.
The next hour passes in careful observation. Eventually Rabastan looks over and says, "He's holding."
Regulus stares at the monitor. Then at the repair. Then back at the monitor. Still beating and still holding. Still alive.
He rolls his neck and nods at Slughorn, "Close?" He asks.
Slughorn nods, “Close.” The room seems to exhale.
The operation ends shortly after ten-thirty, more than six hours after it began. When Regulus finally removes his gloves his hands are shaking from exhaustion. He realises that he’s been on shift almost four hours over time. Him and Slughorn scrub out and make their way to the waiting room with the only evidence of the past six hours being their scrub caps.
Effie is waiting stiffly beside her husband. She isn’t crying or shaking. The only visible sign of her worry is the bags under her eyes and the tension in her shoulders. She rises the moment the door opens.
For one awful second he sees genuine terror in her eyes, then he nods slightly and the tension leaves her so abruptly she flops back down, the familiar warmth settling back over her features.
"The repair went well." She closes her eyes for a second, "The grafts in place. His heart's functioning. He's heading to ICU."
"Thank you." She says as silent tears of relief begin to fall from her eyes. Monty wraps his arms around her tight. Regulus was too focused to have noticed him before now, but he must be the one who was in the ambulance with James. That must be how she knew it was her son coming in, and to get Regulus before he even arrived.
"He isn't out of danger yet," he says, looking at Effie.
"I know." She responds through tears.
ICU. Recovery. Complications. Infection. Neurological assessment.
A thousand things could still happen, but they both know that. James survived the operation, and for now, that is enough.
Outside, the sun is fully risen, climbing higher in the sky. James Potter is in ICU. Out of danger, because they saved him. He followed through on his promise.
***
Regulus groans as he peels his scrubs off, ready to go home. Pandora, Barty, Evan and Dorcas are sitting in the mess room with him during their day-shift. The four of them are also junior surgeons. They all met in medical school, and have been together pretty much since, each specializing in different areas. Regulus is cardio, Evan is neuro, Barty is Paediatrics, Dorcas is Orthopaedics, and Pandora is gynaecology.
Regulus was quite bright in school, so instead of allowing him to excel rather easily, his parents pushed him up three years over the course of his education, resulting in him finishing A-levels at fifteen instead of eighteen, and making friends in college that were a lot older. He ended up getting a fake ID and pretending to be the same age as them until he was eighteen in their third year, and they were all rather disgusted with themselves that they had had adult conversations in front of a minor, except for Pandora who said she always knew which was why she never encouraged or discouraged him from drinking. Now, he’s twenty-four and the youngest surgeon to have completed core surgical training in the UK.
His parents always wanted him to study law, and take over the family firm, especially after Sirius ran away, making him the only one who could carry on their legacy. Fearing for his life, Regulus ran away from London immediately after his A-levels were finished and completed his studies in Edinburgh where he hoped they wouldn’t find him.
Regulus and Sirius always had a good relationship whilst they were at home, until Sirius accused him of ‘ratting on him’ to their parents when he had snuck out one night. Naturally he had done no such thing, but Sirius didn’t believe him, and after that it was one accusation after another, of Regulus being their parents ‘little puppet’, against Sirius, which caused them to grow further apart, until by the time Sirius ran away, he didn’t even tell Regulus where he was going or when. He didn’t even say goodbye.
Regulus departed not a year later, but the year in between was one of the hardest of his life, and he knew that unless he got a scholarship to Edinburgh, he would be stuck alone with his parents for the rest of his days. So that’s exactly what he did.
Monsters didn’t quite describe their parents. The two of them beat, starved and isolated the brothers so bad it’s a wonder Regulus’ sanity is intact. When Sirius ran away it got a lot worse. They knew they couldn’t have another son who failed them, and forced the weight of expectation on him. The beatings got worse. The only source of optimism was Regulus’ plan of escape. That was the only thing keeping him sane.
Now he’s twenty four, living back in London, with a good job, a group of friends who he considers family, and a traitor brother who is somewhere in the world that Regulus doesn’t care to find.
“A bit of privacy would be appreciated.” Regulus grumbles.
“Nothing we haven’t seen before” Barty grins.
“I still can’t believe it.” Evan says staring at the ceiling from the couch.
“You’ve said.” Regulus grumbles.
“You performed an Aortic Dissection repair, practically on your own – I was watching from the gallery – on Euphemia Potters son!” He exclaims, “How are you so…” He waves his hand in a gesture towards Regulus’ current state, “indifferent!”
“I’m not indifferent. I haven’t slept in twenty-seven hours and my back is in bits from standing over ‘Euphemia Potters son’ for six of them. So excuse me if I’m not jumping up and down.” Regulus glares at Evan. No amount of coffee is going to pull him out of his mood. He needs sleep if he can manage not to die in a car accident on the way home first.
Evan rolls his eyes, but Pandora looks at him softly, “Want me to drop you home, Reg?” She says.
“It’s ok Dora, you’re on call.” He responds.
“I really don’t mind. You know Millie won’t mind if I explain it to her.”
Barty rolls his eyes, “Typical gyne squad.”
“Uh-hu, coming from the on-call child minder.” Regulus says dryly, ever the Pandora defender, no matter how much he likes Barty.
Barty holds his hands up in mock surrender.
“You really should go with her Reg, It’s safer. You’re exhausted.” Dorcas says.
After a lot of convincing, Regulus takes a lift with Pandora, who was practically ushered out by Dr. Hoashi in the interest of safety. Once he makes it through the door and into his apartment, he makes his way through the kitchen/living room and into the bedroom to fall face first onto the duvet, forgoing a shower despite knowing he’ll regret it when he wakes up.
***
Regulus reaches the hospital just before eight p.m. for his final shift of the week. It’s been three days since James’ surgery. he’s now awake and was moved to their ward from the ICU yesterday.
Once he’s showered and changed into his dark red scrubs, Regulus completes the handover for both him and Effie from Rabastan, the anesthetist and perhaps the only person Regulus will accept book recommendations from. He assumes Effie is sleep deprived, and thus not going to be much help over the next few hours. Immediately, he makes his way to the room James is in. Effie is out cold in an armchair in the corner of the room, but James is awake, and even with the wires and tubes surrounding him, he’s staring at her with a smile so like his mother, bright and sickeningly sweet. He wants to get sick.
He's got messy brown hair, hazel eyes, round, gold, Cartier glasses, and pale skin that now has a healthy glow, unlike the sickly grey colour it was at first sight. He smiles wider when he sees Regulus.
“Doc!” He exclaims.
“Mr. Potter, you’re awake I see.” Regulus nods.
“Mum said to thank you for saving my life.” His expression goes serious instantly, and he nods as he says it. He’s high as a fucking kite.
“You’re very welcome.” Regulus says, as he reaches out to check his chart.
“You are very pretty.” James grins.
Regulus looks up at him, choosing to ignore his statement, and training his face neutral but kind, the same he uses with all patients, “How’re you feeling Mr. Potter?”
“Fantastic!”
“Yes, that’ll be the morphine.” Regulus says. As he goes to check the drip beside him.
“Oh. Am I high?” James says, genuinely confused.
“Yes.” Regulus responds, lowering his dose very slightly.
“Oh... I don’t usually do drugs. In fact, I never do drugs.” James says, looking appalled with himself.
“Don’t worry Mr. Potter, it’s just to ease your pain.” Regulus responds calmly.
“You mustn’t think I am like this usually. I don’t even smoke. I promise!” He says, holding one hand up in the air and another to his heart before wincing as it hits the surgical wound and dropping it back down. He then proceeds to realize he’s doing the ‘heil Hitler’ sign and drops his hand back down quickly, disgusted with himself.
“I’m not a nazi!” He practically shouts, waking Euphemia up in the process.
“James!” She laughs, taking in his worried expression and her smile turns into one that you’d give a four-year-old after someone said the words, ‘you’re not coming to my birthday party.’
“The beautiful doctor thinks I’m a drug addict and a nazi.” He tells his mother looking as though he’s about to cry. Regulus closes his eyes and sighs, forcing down a blush at the words and keeping his face neutral. Shocked at his body’s reaction, because never, under any circumstances, does Regulus Black blush. The thought is ludicrous.
“No, I don’t James.” He says calmly.
“You don’t?” He says, eyes watering a little. Regulus shakes his head.
“I’ve lowered his morphine dosage slightly.” He turns to Effie, “are you alright to be on shift? I can take over and wake you up before surgeries.” He asks.
“That’s alright love, I can work and keep an eye on him. You look tired, have you slept enough.” She says, looking at him with bright eyes. He nods, before turning to leave, but she stops him just outside the door, waiting for it to click shut before she proceeds.
“That wasn’t fair of me to ask you. I shouldn’t have made you make that promise.” She says as her face morphs into one of regret. “I wasn’t thinking properly.”
“It’s alright Effie. I was just glad we could follow through.” He says.
“Still. Thank you, Regulus. You saved his life, and I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“You don’t have to. It’s our job.” Regulus responds sternly. And before he can stop her, she reaches out and hugs him. He flinches. Memories of hands grabbing him, shoving him into cupboards, pushing him down the stairs, choking him, or restraining him as he watches his older brother go through the same. He pulls away, schooling his face into its usual neutral mask. Something passes across Effie’s face, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Thank you.” She cups his cheek with her palm, before withdrawing back into the room.
The next few hours proceed in a similar fashion. Regulus occasionally checks on a very high James Potter, and Effie does the same. He makes a few jokes about his best friend ‘Pads’ having the same surname. Regulus thinks ‘Pads Black’ is a very unfortunate name, but doesn’t say anything.
At 3 a.m, he takes a smoke break with Barty, the only times he usually allows himself a cigarette. He makes several runs down to the overnight café, and back for both him and Effie, and scrubs in on an emergency coronary artery bypass graft, that’s not really an emergency because really, they knew that all the family needed was a scare for them to agree to it, and cardiac arrest seemed to do the trick.
At eight the next morning, Regulus is able to leave almost on time. He goes with Dorcas, Evan, Pandora and Barty, who were all on nightshift as well because the five of them try to co-ordinate their shifts.
They all live in the same apartment block, because if you thought spending almost all twelve hour shifts together wasn’t enough then spending every waking minute in flats next door to each other is sure to do it. Regulus showers as soon as he gets in, before heading to the kitchen and cooking up some oatmeal. He takes it to the bedroom with a cup of coffee and his book before pulling up the hood of his hoodie and getting comfortable in bed.
Involuntarily, his mind seems to wonder to Effie’s son. He had a face that you just knew was funny even if he was practically incoherent. His hair was messy but in an endearing way, as if he uses too much shampoo and not enough conditioner so it just sticks up in any which way a hand is run through it. His eyes were like Effie’s, wide and kind, making him look like a little kitten, despite being an absolute truck of a man.
Regulus shakes his head and refocuses on the book he’s reading, ‘If we Were Villain’s’, that Rabastan recommended him. Rabastan seems like the type to enjoy it. He’s got that kind of old man feel about him. But not in a grandad way, more like a student at Oxford in the 1920’s and a secret gay person who would join society’s which worshipped and carried out rituals to Dionysus at the dead of night half naked. Perhaps he should recommend ‘The Secret History’ to him.
.- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .- .-
James
Seven days after his surgery, James feels pretty shit, but ready to be discharged. He’s exhausted constantly, but can’t sleep properly, his chest is sore, and pretty much every part of him feels swollen. But he’s happy to be alive, and happier to be going home. Hospital food is as shit as people make it out to be.
The only positive of being here is that he gets to see the pretty doctor who comes in to check on him. Apparently, he did some embarrassing stuff whilst high, but he doesn’t remember and thus doesn’t really care. Unfortunately, Euphemia is watching him like a hawk, and thus he can’t really flirt with the doctor as much as he’d like, but he’s doing his best.
Sometimes if he makes a very outwardly flirtatious remark, he’ll close his eyes and sigh. At first James thought it was in annoyance, but now he’s pretty sure that’s how he stops himself from blushing. Which is a real shame for James, because he’s pretty sure that his pale skin would look very pretty, blushing.
Dr. Black- James asked for his first name off Effie who rolled her eyes at him and scoffed, refusing to tell him as it would be unprofessional. The doctor just pretended he hadn’t heard, which seems to be his method of ignoring questions from James he doesn’t want to answer. - comes in.
“Ready to be discharged, Mr. Potter?” He asks, flipping through a folder he picked up from the end of the bed. He’s wearing the same dark red scrubs as his mother -though he isn’t an attending yet, or a consultant, which is apparently what they call attendings in the UK. All James’ knowledge of medicine comes from Grey’s anatomy- with a dark grey long sleeve t-shirt beneath, rolled up to the elbows.
“It’s a few hours before scheduled?” James frowns, “My friends were going to pick me up. Also, might I add that you look simply dashing today. Is that a new set of scrubs?”
“Effie offered to bring you home early because we need to avail of the room.” He says, pointedly ignoring James’ comment on his attire.
“You call my mum Effie?” James grins, to which he scowls, which James finds rather endearing.
“Dr. Potter has offered to bring you home.” He corrects, “Is that alright?”
James nods, smirking at how difficult it must be for the poor man not to get annoyed at James every day. He’s just had a two-day break between shifts – James knows – so he’s catching up on teasing before he goes.
“Very well. How are you feeling? Any pains that you’d like me to be aware of before your pre-discharge assessments?”
“Nope.” James shakes his head.
“Good.” He nods, before putting on a pair of plastic gloves.
“What assessments are you going to do?” James asks curiously.
“We’ll start with a rectal exam, so hop up and bend over the bed for me.” The doctor says calmly whilst placing his chart on the table and snapping the band of his gloves against the wrist. James is horrified. He can feel his jaw drop and his face begin burning, likely going redder than it ever has been. No chance will Dr. Black be sticking fingers up his bum under these circumstances. Suddenly, a worse thought pops into his mind. What if he gets a hard on. They don’t wear underwear during rectal exams he’s pretty sure. Oh my god it would be sovisible. He must be gaping at the man like an idiot, because eventually he smirks and says, “Joking. You’re quite gullible”
James can hardly hear through the pounding in his ears, “You-” he chuckles nervously, “you are evil.”
The man just smirks and says, “I know.” Which makes James gulp, and does nothing to ease the furious blush slowly draining from his face.
“I just want to check your wound. I’ve received the results of your blood test from this morning, and they’ve shown up clear.”
James nods, and removes his t-shirt, having finally been allowed back out of his hospital gown. He wanted to look smart for the doctor, but unfortunately, he’s only got his old loose fit jeans and a white band t-shirt that’s crumpled. At least his dad remembered his red converse. He smirks when he sees the man close his eyes and sigh whilst adjusting the settings of the bed on the wall. He unwraps the wounds dressings first.
“Lie down please.” He asks.
James obliges and the man stands over him, before pressing gently on parts of the wound. He winces a little, but it doesn’t hurt too bad. After a while he gets James to sit up whilst he redresses the wound, and James can’t help but feel that it’s a little intimate, the whole process. They’re both silent during it, but not in an uncomfortable way. More like neither of them want to ruin the moment.
***
Euphemia and the doctor end up getting called into emergency surgery, so James goes home with Padfoot later that day without getting to introduce him to the man that saved his life.
“Uh, now I don’t get Moony time.” he whines from the driver’s seat.
“Moony will be relieved, he kept calling me and telling me to distract you at the hospital because you were annoying him.” James responds
“Outrageous!” he practically shouts, “I’m telling you, it was sexual tension!”
“If you say so, Pads.” James grins.
“Well at least I am not leaving the hospital with an unidentified crush.” He huffs
“Only because Moony is forced to live and work with you.” James shrugs teasingly, “besides, I get to go back in and see him.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I made it clear that I liked him, and the man saved my life, so bringing him coffee won’t seem like too big of a deal.” James shrugs
“You’re going to confess your love for him the minute you see him.”
“I will not.” James huffs
“You so will. That’s a textbook prongs move.” Sirius laughs.
“Shut up.” He huffs, but with no real bite. He’s quite relieved to have finally left the hospital behind.