EPILOGUE

SIRIUS POV.

Bertha Jorkins is an idiot. An absolute plonker who lacks the skill to shut up when needed. She never keeps her nose out of other people's business and says hurtful things without intending to. She's gorgeous though. Plump and smooth with thick thighs and a soft belly. Fairly squeezable, one might say.  

She's funny too. Cheeky las, who enjoys laughing more than anybody Sirius knows. Well, maybe not more than James.

She is distracting with her thick hair and noisy jewelry.

She is distracting .

She is a distraction .

Sirius has been out with her for almost three months now. Steady, reassuring and at the same time not boring. Sirius usually gets bored after a third date. Sirius usually feels uncomfortable knowing he is somebody's something , which always leads to him breaking things off. Not with Bertha Jorkins, however. This is different. They're just fooling around. Not each other's significant other. Just each other's distraction. 

She is an idiot. An absolute plonker who lacks the skill to shut up when needed. She never keeps her nose out of other people's business and says hurtful things without intending to. 

She doesn't get Sirius's interests. She doesn't understand his anecdotes and she always asks too many questions. Questions about his past, his family, his friends. She once stalked his instagram and asked him about the tall boy with sandy-blonde hair, smiling beside a younger Sirius in front of Hogwarts gates. 

"Who's this lovely sodd?"

She had turned her screen towards him where he'd been laying on the floor in her apartment. He had flinched and felt like puking or maybe slap the phone out of her hand and stamp on it. He had done neither of those things.

"What are you doing? Why are you going through my instagram?"

"Well, I was curious, wasn't I? Who is he? It's not Peter, is it?"

"Peter? Are you mad?" 

"Who is it then? Surely I haven't met him? I would remember a face like that!"

"It's..It's just somebody I used to know."

"No contact then? Were you close?"

Sirius had been holding back from going off on her. Noosy bitch as she was, he still enjoyed her company. He liked her better when she was quiet, when she kissed him and he could close his eyes and imagine somebody else. He had tried to change the topic. He had tried to escape her questions. 

 Steering them elsewhere. But when Bertha bloody Jorkins started to investigate, she could not be easily maneuvered. 

"Wanna grab something to eat? I'm famished."

"Oh god, he's not dead, is he?"

"What? No I just, we knew each other back then, and now we don't anymore. Simple as that, yeah?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why don't you know each other anymore? Was he horrible? A prick?"

"Yeah, I guess he was a bit of a prick. Wanna eat now?"

"You're being odd. Did it not end well between you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Did he do something unforgivable?"

"Bertha."

"He didn't steal a girl from you, did he? Looks like the type who could steal somebody's girl."

"He didn't steal any girl. We just stopped talking when I moved here." 

"So you weren't close?"

"I-..No. We weren't that close. Hardly knew the lad, actually."

They had gone out to eat after that. Bertha, satisfied with her investigation. Sirius feeling guilty as one could be. It had been a white lie. It wasn't a big deal. He didn't want her speaking of, or thinking about, Remus. So he portrayed him as a nobody. As a nobody, he used to know. As an unimportant part of his past. A chip passing by his life without making any remarkable print on his soul. 

Sirius still thinks about it now, weeks later. Hardly knew the lad. Hardly knew the sounds he made when he slept. The almost snores that weren't really snores. Remus had used to claim it was his asthma that made him a loud sleeper. A loud breather. Hardly knew the lad . Hardly knew him by touch only. Hardly knew how he liked his tea -with one sugar, no milk.

Hardly knew how he started smoking at fifteen, despite his condition. ‘Slow suicide’, in Sirius opinion. ‘Cheers to that’ in Remus’s. Hardly fucking knew him, had he? Hardly knew the small shifts in his voice when he went from comfortable to anxious. Hardly knew his smell and smile and soothing comments. He hardly knows him anymore. No, not these days. But knew ? 

I hardly knew the lad . Bullshit. White lie? Felt more like treason. If James or Peter had heard him say that, they would probably have been disappointed. Disgusted, even. They would probably ask what the hell he was on about. 

He can practically hear James  

Hardly knew the lad? Remus Lupin? Our Remus Lupin? That boy made you who you are. Don’t you dare claim anything different. 

Remus Lupin. Our Remus Lupin. Remus who cut contacts. Remus, who went radio silence. 

It still stings like salt in a wound. That he cut ties. It had been payback, probably. For being abandoned. 

These days, Sirius is in constant movement. Jumping from person to person. Job to job. So scared of staying still, because whenever he does, Remus appears in his thoughts like a taunting ghost. It has been years. He shouldn't feel like this. He shouldn't miss somebody this desperately, when the person in question is long gone. Remus these days is probably somebody Sirius wouldn't recognise. New interests, new friends. Maybe his voice is darker. Maybe he’s become obsessed with dancing, competing in ballet. Maybe he’s fallen in love. 

Sirius wouldn't know either way. The other boy doesn't use social media. Doesn't post, does not interact. He could actually be dead for all Sirius knows. 

He used to know Remus Lupin. Now he’s clueless. He can no longer say with confidence what Remus' favorite color is. What his favorite scent, food and song is. Does he still like Bowie? Does he still smoke like a madman? Does he tell people to ‘fuck off ’ at least once a day? He doesn't know anymore. 

He’ll never know again and the mere thought of that makes him want to drown. 

This is where the need of distraction comes in.

Bertha Jorkins is the best distraction in the world. So, when Sirius gets a message from her, as he walks towards the coffee shop he works at. He can’t help but smile to himself. 

Bertha 12.22

Wanna lunch with me?

Sirius works at a small coffee shop in the center of the city. Horrid salary. Overwhelming amount of customers. It works though. It's a distraction and it pays the bills. 

He shares a flat with James. It’s nothing fancy, but it felt like a mansion when they moved in a year ago. Anything is better than your parents’ basement when you’re in your twenties. Or, foster parents, in this case. Sirius loves them by all means. They are kind and loving and everything he’s ever wanted. But after years in a sweaty basement shared with the one and only James potter himself, the need and desire for separate rooms took over. The flat had been like a welcoming step into adulthood. Forcing Sirius to take care of himself without help. Being able to do it with James by his side was of course vital. 

Marlene Mckinnon, who has come to be one in the group, lives ten minutes away. Peter, the tosser. Found his way to London after graduating college, alongside Frank Longbottom and the lovely Alice Fortescue. They all live close by as well. It should feel lovely. It should feel perfect. Sirius can’t stay still. Always moving from person to person. Event to event. He has a gaping hole in his heart. Threatening to grow bigger, if not filled with distraction. 

He can’t hide from it. He can only try to run. Try not to think. Try not to think about the missing pieces. Try not to think about the boy with sandy-blond hair and fucked up lungs. The lad he apparently had hardly known . Try not to think about the little brother left in an abusive household. The little brother who had shown nothing but anger in the last years of contact.

Try not to think. 

Trying not to think is easy with a job like Sirius’s.

It’s a busy Tuesday. It’s summer. For many, it’s vacation. The tourists are everywhere. 

It’s draining. It’s a distraction.

“One small mocha with extra cream. Oh, and don’t be afraid to add some chocolate drizzle on that. thaaaanks”

Americans may be the very best thing about this job. With all their complicated orders and fiascos Sirius can later laugh with his friends about. 

“One small mocha with extra cream and chocolate drizzle coming right up! Anything else for the lovely lady?” 

The woman in front of him has short blond hair, cut in a well-fitted bob. She’s got too much lip gloss on and it smacks when she speaks. 

“Do you have, like, a sandwich?”

Sirius points at the display of well-ranged pastries in front of him. There are indeed a variety of sandwiches there as well. 

“Gluten-free?”

“I’m afraid we're out, only gluten bread today. What's the name for the order?”

“How hard can it be to keep some gluten free bread around? I mean honestly, I feel like, you know..it’s kind of your duty, you know what I mean? And it’s Chloé.”

She emphasizes  the last part so her lip gloss flies. Sirius can only smile apologetically and writes “Cloe” on a mug before starting on the mocha. Gidion, the employee Sirius shares today's shift with, comes in from his break and starts with the next customer. It’s about time, as it has started to form a line that drags all the way from the door to the counter. 

“Here you go Chloé, have a fabulous day!”

He hands the coffee over and then starts with the next beverage. It’s an unsaid agreement that Gidion takes care of the customers and Sirius of the coffees when they work at the same time during the rush hour. Sirius almost prefers it. This way he can listen to the pipe-heads coming in to order, laugh without being seen, then get a face to the voice when handing over the drink. They work steadily for an hour or so, before Sirius stumbles upon an order that seems especially ridiculous. Gideon has handed him an order note saying: one triple espresso shot cappuccino and one black coffee for Remmy Lemmy. He didn't really hear the person ordering as they were mumbling. In combination with the loud, filled café and Sirius’ focus on the previous complicated order, it was close to impossible. He can therefore not know if Gideon wrote the order wrong or not. ‘Triple espresso shot’ is a heart attack waiting to happen. Either this Remmy Lemmy has a death wish or Gideon made a mistake. He doesn't want blood on his hands, so, of course, he asks his coworker. 

“Triple shot, yeah? Is that right?”

“I was a bit surprised too!”

“American?”

“No, some posh brit. He was with a librarian-looking fellah.” 

“I’ll be damned.”

Remmy Lemmy must be the worst one yet. Who names their kid Remmy? Who names their kid Remmy if their last name is bloody Lemmy? And what posh British family would ever have such a last name?  

He makes the death drink alongside the large black coffee, turns to the pick-up area and shouts at the waiting customers. 

“Triple espresso shot capo and a plain black for..Remmy Lemmy?”

And then it happens. Time stops, his gut twists and falls to the floor. 

He’s cold. He’s sweaty. 

He can’t breathe. 

No, this isn't right. It’s all wrong. He’s dreaming. He’s dreaming and he’s going to wake up panting, any second now. 

It’s not real. 

Because, sure, life is cruel, but this isn't cruel.

 This is worse. 

This is a stab to the chest. 

This is drowning. 

No, this is payback. The ultimate payback. The missing pieces. 

The person he loved and left and lost. Standing there, looking caught, looking shocked. Beside him is a brother, an older, more defined version of Sirius' little shit-brother. Remus Lupin is here. He’s here with those eyes, and those hands, and they're just as breathtaking as he remembers them

Vomit, he’s going to vomit. 

I hardly knew the lad . He wants to turn back time and take the words back. I did know the lad, Bertha. He was everything to me. They both stare at him, looking like big-eyed children ready to run. Looking like old versions of people he once had. 

Then, Regulus shifts his glance to Remus. Concerned. He looks concerned. It feels like eternity, but in reality, this all happens in a matter of seconds. 

Sirius can hear Gidion say his name, probably wondering why he hasn't started on the next order. 

Why are they here? Why are they here together?  

He must say something. He must do something.

Gidion says his name again. He stops thinking. He’s good at it by now. An expert even. Shutting down, going into pilot-mode. He can feel his face relax and his expression dimmer. He can feel himself slipping, leaving an emotionless employee behind, only there to hand over coffee. Because what else is he supposed to do? This is too much, it’s way too much. 

Call James, he must call James. 

He’s going to vomit.

He stretches out both arms, putting the coffees on the counter. 

The two in front of him seem frozen, as if not knowing what to do. 

“Triple espresso shot capo and a plain black for Remmy Lemmy.”

He says it too fast to seem nonchalant and unbothered, but his voice is monotone and his face doesn't halter. He has tucked away his heart and soul and they will not see it. If this is some cruel joke, he will not give in and give them the satisfaction of knowing that they’ve gotten to him. 

What if it’s not a cruel joke? What if it's his brother and old best friend just accidentally stumbling in? 

Should he say something?

 He should.

 He can't.

 They both take the coffees from him in sync. They don’t stop staring though. Wary-eyed, seeking in his eyes for something he won’t show them. He must say something. 

He can’t. 

He can’t not, though. 

“You two look..”

He’s going to vomit.

Gideon says his name again. This time he sounds a bit annoyed. The line is getting insufferably long. 

“..well. You look well.

Nothing. They just stare, caught off guard, it seems. 

“Okay, well..Thanks for trusting us at Coffe-Corner with your beverages. Hope you have a splendid day..together.” 

The last part sounds dangerously close to a whimper and he doesn't wait another second before turning and walking away to continue with his orders. 

He’s going to vomit.

He’s going to faint. He doesn't look back. He doesn't see them leave, but the next time he heads over to hand a customer their drink, they're gone. 

Sirius has imagined what it would be like to stumble into Remus again. He has a million versions of the meeting, the outcome, the aftermath. No version has been close to the one he just experienced. Remus Lupin standing beside his long lost brother whom he loudly despised throughout all of his friendship with Remus. No version has ended in him hyperventilating in the bathroom at his work.

 Sirius has been feeling like a traitor for the past three years. Leaving behind the boy who held his heart. Now he meets the very boy to find that the real traitor is Remus. 

Not a dancing ballerina.

Not dead, either.

But a traitor. 

He’s grown up to be a traitor. 

I hardly knew the lad.

He doesn't feel bad about saying that to Bertha anymore. 

He tells himself that he doesn't want to know how the two became whatever they are.
Friends?
He tells himself that this is something that won't affect him.

I hardly knew the lad . Maybe he didn't. The Remus he thought he had known would never have done this. 

He just needs to keep moving. To go from person to person, even to event. 

He’ll be fine as long as he never stops, never thinks, never breathes.

He’ll be fine knowing that Remus and Regulus now are something, friends ?

He'll be completely fine. He doesn't want to know what led to this. 

He tells himself that he doesn't want their apologies.

That he doesn't want to rush after them and beg for a simple explanation. 

He doesn't care. He doesn't care.

It feels like a lie.