Sirius spent four grueling days in the hospital before he was finally discharged to go back to the Potters', still reliant on a pair of crutches. The Healers were quite pleased with his progress, but admitted reluctantly that there may be some chronic side effects in terms of his mobility. Sirius was trying not to complain too much- he had come to the very irritating conclusion that it'd only make it more difficult for the Potters if he didn't accept help.

But he wasn't used to this. His parents were more than happy to let him ride out the injuries they inflicted. He was accustomed to pretending to be okay.

His arrival back to the Potter household was met with cake, streamers, and a "Welcome Home Sirius!" banner handmade by Euphemia. Home. The word felt strange and awkward at first- Hogwarts was home- but as the week went on, he started to find himself settling into a rhythm that felt more safe and more comfortable than anything he'd ever experienced before.

He would wake up at around seven or eight and go get breakfast. He'd always been a morning person, and the Potters, apparently, were not. He relished the solitude. A house elf would make him a hot, delicious meal and then he'd go for a walk around Godric's Hollow, doctor-ordered physical therapy that he absolutely didn't mind. He loved soaking in the sunlight, soaking in his freedom.

When he got back to the house James was usually up, and the two of them spent a large portion of each day figuring out precisely what to do with sixth year.

"Fifth year? Hell. But sixth year, well, we can basically just fuck around. I mean, honestly, NEWTS are seventh year, we barely even need to pay attention," James said Sunday morning. It was their last day before heading back to Hogwarts, and as much as Sirius had been enjoying his time at the Potters', he was ecstatic to return to school.

"Well," said Sirius, "one could argue that what we learn this year will be on the NEWTS-"

"Shh, shh," James said, cutting him off, "you're starting to sound like Moony. Anyway, here's what I'm thinking. Obviously this year is going to be epic in terms of causing chaos. I've already come up with seven spells…" James showed his detailed notebook entries and sketches to Sirius, outlining several elaborate hexes and jinxes- Sirius's favorite was what James called a "love potion in spell form," something they could quickly and easily cast with effects that wouldn't wear off for an estimated 48 hours.

"And the other thing to focus on, 'least for me, is Remus," Sirius said softly. The two boys had started dating at the end of last year, and Sirius's heart was physically aching at being away from his boyfriend for so long.

"Mm, what do you mean focus?" said James with a suggestive grin.

"Well, that too," Sirius conceded. "But I mean finding the cure."

"There isn't one," James said simply, tentatively.

"Gotta be, and every year I don't find it is another year of letting him suffer," said Sirius.

"It's not your responsibility to do this, he would never expect this from you-"

"Yeah, well, he doesn't expect shit from anyone, that's his problem, and anyhow I'm not doing this out of some sort of twisted obligation, it's just imagine how much easier things would be for him!"

"I mean, I'm not gonna tell you not to do it, mate," said James with a shrug. "But shouldn't you be focusing on your health right now?"

"I'm fine," Sirius said quickly, rolling his eyes. He had finally gotten off crutches, but was still using a cane to get around- something that the Healers had said may last for months or even a year. This was not a good development. Sirius loved attracting attention, but not this way. He wondered if he could put a disillusionment charm on the cane in the Hogwarts halls- but that would probably only prompt more questions.

It wasn't the end of the world. Sirius felt much better; physically, the shooting and stabbing pains had completely faded. His leg muscles were just still a little weak, that was all.

Goddamn Walburga. What an arsehole. Jesus.

"You okay?" James asked, nudging Sirius with his elbow.

"Oh, yes, yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

"Fine, I'll bite. Have you made any progress on the cure for lycanthropy?"

Despite this not being at all what Sirius was thinking about, he was happy for a chance to talk about it. "Well, as you know I've had a rather eventful summer-"

James grinned. "Yes, you certainly have-"

"So I haven't had a ton of time, but I've been reading up on Muggle chemistry, actually, since I thought what if there was an opposite of silver- you'd think that'd be an easier question to answer, but I don't even understand what an electron is, James-"

"An ecklectron?" James repeated, scrunching his nose.

"But in the book I got it said sulfur is highly reactive with silver-"

"Isn't that the stuff that smells like rotten eggs?"

"Beats me," said Sirius honestly, "but I know it's in a lot of foods, so if we could get Remus to try a sulfur rich diet, maybe… well, does that even make sense? No," he concluded, putting his head in his hands, "all silver even does is give Remus a rash, this is all so stupidly far-fetched."

"It's not stupid," said James gently. "Trust me, you've been putting a lot of work into this and we both know you're a genius. Just like me! I mean," he dropped his voice, "we're animagi, Sirius, at 16. So stop with the self deprecation. But curing lycanthropy has just never been done-"

"Well, that's only because no one cares enough! Except I do, I'm going to become a professional Healer or Auror or whatever other career I need, I'm going to get all the expertise and I will invent a cure for Remus, I swear," Sirius said hotly. He had to be able to do this. He had to.

"Just don't push yourself too much," said James worriedly. "I mean, making this your life's mission is a little dangerous, mate, isn't it?"

"Remus is my life's mission," Sirius said simply, without thinking. He immediately felt his pale cheeks glow pink.

James let out a soft, low whistle. "Do you… do you love him?"

Sirius stood up abruptly. "Alright, Potter, good talk," he said with a teasing smile, heading upstairs to go pack.

Do you love him? Sirius repeated to himself.

Of course, he already knew the answer. More than anything.