It had been approximately five years since Remus had spoken to Sirius.
His exact last words had been, "I never want to see you again."
And although it had been the truth at the time, Remus had been angry when he spoke those words. So angry and so young. To be fair, Sirius had been young too. They'd been a mere fifteen and sixteen when Sirius had decided to pull the prank, which was not quite a prank—and, due to the nature of things combined with Remus' harsh words, Sirius had listened.
He hadn't so much as looked at Remus for the next two and a half years they spent at Hogwarts.
Part of Remus wished Sirius had kept trying.
The apology had come in every form imaginable. Spoken words. Letters. Explanations. Excuses. Regret. Sirius had thrown every piece of himself at the wound he'd created, trying desperately to fix it, and Remus had rejected every attempt.
So their lives had gone on.
Strained between a group of friends who eventually stopped pushing. Stopped asking what had happened. Stopped hoping for the reunion that was clearly never coming.
Life after Hogwarts hadn't magically repaired anything either. They'd drifted into separate circles, separate lives. Occasionally Remus would hear James mention Sirius in passing— but they never spoke.
And now— now Remus stood in a crowded London coffee shop with his eyes locked on a familiar figure near the counter.
The boy he once knew had grown into a man.
His dark hair was longer now, pulled back at the crown of his head in a messy bun. There was stubble along his jaw, and he wore leather and denim that smelled faintly of rain and motor oil. His shoulders seemed broader than Remus remembered, his face sharper somehow, though perhaps that was simply what adulthood did to people.
Or perhaps it was what five years of missing someone did.
Remus should have looked away.
Instead, he found himself staring.
A memory surfaced unbidden—a seer Alice had dragged him to visit a couple of years ago after one too many glasses of wine.
"Tall, dark, and handsome with a wild side," she'd declared dramatically while peering into his palm. "A soul tie."
Remus hadn't believed a word of it. He still didn't. At least, that was what he told himself.
Yet standing there now, watching Sirius Black reach for a takeaway cup and laugh at something the barista said, Remus felt something deep inside him twist painfully.
Before he could stop himself, before common sense could intervene, he heard his own voice.
The name slipped out softer than intended.
Sirius froze. For a moment he simply stood there, cup halfway to his lips. Then he turned.
The years between them seemed to vanish all at once.
His voice was deeper than Remus remembered. Warmer. Familiar enough to make his chest ache.
Remus hadn't actually thought this far ahead. What exactly was one supposed to say after five years of silence?
Remember when I told you I never wanted to see you again?
Fortunately, Sirius looked just as caught off guard.
Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face.
Not the reckless grin Remus remembered from their school days. This one was softer. Older. A little uncertain.
His gaze traveled over Remus, taking him in.
"You're..." Sirius laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Look at you."
Remus felt heat rise to his face.
It was ridiculous that Sirius Black could still have that effect on him.
The response sounded painfully inadequate considering the circumstances.
Sirius glanced down at himself, "The beard?"
"I've been told it makes me look distinguished."
Sirius barked out a laugh, and for a brief moment Remus caught a glimpse of the boy he'd once known. The sound settled somewhere uncomfortable beneath his ribs.
"That's rude," Sirius informed him.
"Yeah, well, it's the truth."
A strange silence followed. Not exactly awkward. Both of them standing in the middle of a coffee shop, trying to navigate five years' worth of distance.
Finally Sirius shifted his weight.
Sirius smiled again, "I never thought I'd run into you here."
Neither of them moved to leave. Neither seemed entirely sure how to proceed.
And despite everything—despite the anger, the hurt, the years spent convincing himself he was better off without Sirius Black—Remus found that he wasn't ready for the conversation to end.
Sirius gestured toward a small two-person table tucked against the window.
Remus knew it was probably simple politeness. Two former friends unexpectedly running into one another. An invitation made because it would be rude not to.
Still, some traitorous part of him hoped it was genuine.
"Sure," he heard himself say. "I'll just grab a coffee."
Sirius nodded and headed for the table while Remus joined the queue at the counter.
Immediately, he regretted everything.
This was a terrible idea.
What exactly was he planning to do? Sit across from Sirius and casually discuss the last five years? Pretend they hadn't spent nearly half a decade avoiding one another? Pretend Remus hadn't thought about him far more often than he'd ever admit?
Coffee in hand, Remus turned from the counter fully intending to invent an excuse and flee.
He was sitting at the little wooden table, one ankle resting over a knee as he flipped absentmindedly through a magazine someone had left behind. A lock of dark hair had escaped from where he'd tied it back and kept falling into his face. Every few moments he'd push it away without looking up.
Something unpleasantly fond twisted in Remus' chest.
His heart gave an embarrassing leap.
He was still gone for him.
And apparently all it took was one smile and a coffee shop reunion for Remus to discover he'd learned absolutely nothing.
Resigned to his fate, he crossed the room and slid into the empty chair opposite him, setting his takeaway cup down with a soft thump.
For a moment neither spoke.
Remus took a large sip of coffee purely so he wouldn't have to deal with that.
"How've you been?" Sirius asked.
The question should have been easy.
Instead Remus found himself sorting through five years of loneliness, mediocre jobs, bad dates, war stories, and lingering regrets.
Just a very incomplete truth.
The second the words left his mouth, he winced.
Sirius' smile widened slightly, as though he'd noticed the awkwardness and decided to be merciful about it.
"Not a whole hell of a lot."
He lifted his coffee and took a sip.
"What do you do these days?"
Remus blinked. "Motorcycles?"
That explained the grease stains he'd noticed on Sirius' hands.
A grin tugged at the corner of Sirius' mouth.
"I know. Sounds very rebellious and dangerous."
"It sounds exactly like something you'd do."
The laugh escaped Remus before he could stop it.
Sirius looked absurdly pleased by that fact. And suddenly, for the first time since sitting down, the conversation felt a little easier. A little less like two strangers. A little more like two people remembering how to talk to one another.
"How about you?" Sirius asked.
Remus traced the rim of his coffee cup.
"Bit of this. Bit of that."
"What do you actually do?" Sirius followed up.
Remus sighed dramatically. "Books."
"I catalogue rare manuscripts for an antiquarian dealer."
There was a beat of silence, then Sirius burst out laughing.
"That is the most Remus Lupin job I've ever heard in my life."
Remus felt himself smiling despite every effort not to. Across the table, Sirius was smiling too.
They caught up for longer than Remus had intended.
The conversation came easier than he expected it to. Once the initial shock had worn off, they slipped into familiar rhythms. Sirius still gestured wildly when he spoke, still interrupted himself halfway through stories because he'd remembered something funnier, and still laughed with his entire body.
Not because it was awkward, but because it wasn't.
Five years should have made them strangers.
Instead, Remus found himself laughing at Sirius' jokes before he'd finished telling them.
They spoke about old classmates and jobs and life after Hogwarts. The easy smiles that followed had done unfortunate things to Remus' heart.
Eventually Sirius glanced at his watch and swore softly.
Remus immediately hated how disappointed he felt.
Sirius stood, grabbing his empty cup and tossing it into a nearby bin before turning back toward him.
"I'm having a bit of a get-together next weekend. Sort of a housewarming thing."
"Yeah. Nothing fancy. Just food, drinks, friends making fun of my decorating choices."
"I'd pay money to see that."
The invitation caught him off guard.
Remus' stomach performed an embarrassing little flip.
"Bring whoever you want."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "I'm sure Edmé would love to meet you."
A smile spread across Sirius' face.
The word hit him like a punch.
Not visibly, he hoped. Years of practice kept the reaction from reaching his face.
Inside was another matter entirely.
Of course Sirius had someone...
What had Remus expected? That Sirius had spent the last five years waiting around for him? Pining dramatically in the rain?
The thought was ridiculous.
Sirius was twenty-one, handsome enough that people glanced at him when he walked through the room, charming without meaning to be, and possessed of the sort of reckless magnetism that had always drawn people in.
Naturally, he'd fallen in love.
Naturally, someone had fallen in love with him.
"Right," Remus managed. "Yeah. Of course."
The smile he offered felt practiced. Professional. The sort he gave customers and distant acquaintances. Not quite reaching his eyes.
If Sirius noticed, he didn't mention it.
"We got engaged a few months ago."
This time Remus meant it.
Sirius' expression softened immediately.
Remus hated how much it hurt. Because they had only just reconnected. Barely. In passing. In a coffee shop in London.
Whatever feelings had surged back to life the moment he'd seen Sirius again were entirely his own problem.
Five years ago, Sirius had apologized.
Five years ago, Remus had told him to leave.
He had no right to be jealous now.
"I'll send you an owl with the details," Sirius said.
For a moment they simply looked at one another.
Five years condensed into a silence neither seemed entirely sure how to fill.
Then Sirius smiled, a small one this time. Less confident than before.
"It was good to see you, Remus."
Something in his chest tightened.
"It was good to see you too."
Sirius lingered for a second as though he wanted to say something else. Then he nodded once and headed for the door.
The bell chimed softly overhead as he left.
Remus remained at the table long after he'd gone. His coffee had gone cold.
Outside, people moved along the pavement, umbrellas bobbing through the drizzle.
Five years ago, Remus had told Sirius Black he never wanted to see him again.
Now, he found himself wondering what he was going to wear to his housewarming party.
