swearwolfremuslupin:
Part of Remus had been sadistically hoping that Peter was the worst of it. That after his friend’s betrayal, after being called home from the feral wolves by Dumbledore, who was no doubt scrambling to deal with the fallout, things had finally hit rock bottom. If things had hit rock bottom then there was nowhere to go but up, right? He could focus on healing, on reconnecting with the people he had left. Only the war wasn’t over, and his life had never been that simple. Those around him were more than used to his relationship with Sirius being inconsistent. To the point that he had stopped announcing each time they broke up, or got back together again. In a way, doing so had made things easier. But it also made reaching out to talk more difficult when things went wrong, and they seemed to go wrong so often. It had been just under a month since their most recent break up, though he supposed technically they had stopped being ‘together’ long before the official end. Arguments had become more frequent than affectionate conversation.
Sirius had been trying to come to terms with the news of his brother, and he had been absent. Disappearing to spy on Greyback for long periods of time. Days would stretch into weeks, and by the time he finally returned things had changed. _He _had changed. Maybe that wouldn’t be so difficult to process if he had anywhere else to live, but the one bedroom apartment he shared with Sirius was still his sanctuary, still the place he came back to every night, even when he found himself wishing it wasn’t. After a particularly tense conversation with James, who had taken to insisting he shouldn’t return to Greyback when Dumbledore inevitably asked him to, he longed to climb into bed and hide beneath the covers. Only when he opened the front door, he found himself locking eyes with Sirius, who was standing in the kitchen, and brewing a coffee. The scent hit him with incredible force, and his determination to ignore the man wavered under the strength of it. “Enough water in the kettle for another cup?” He deadpanned, shrugging out of his coat, slamming the door shut behind himself. Throwing his jacket over the back of a nearby chair, he begrudgingly made his way into the room.
@lumcss
During their teenage years Sirius had always been the one who valued a set sleep schedule. Sure, there had been exceptions to this rule, their monthly outings or a bit of bit of mischief that simply couldn’t be completed during daylight hours. But as generality Sirius had liked to go to bed at the same time and wake up the same time each night- could arguably be frightening if someone were to disturb his regular bedtime for a cause he deemed unworthy. Of course the Order changed that like it had everything else. It wasn’t simply an adjustment to a new routine, it was no routine at all. No stability in any aspect of his life. Sirius had spent seven years relearning everything he had ever known and in a matter of seconds he had to rethink his whole belief system again and again.
So here he was, awake for going on twenty-three hours and too afraid of lying alone with his thoughts to do anything about it other than brew himself another pot of coffee.
He had been brewing it the muggle way, his coffee. It turned out absolute shite the first few times he tried but he had managed to get the hang of the thing by now. It was a small act of rebellion so similar to one that little boy he used to be would have found brilliant. Now it was just another means of clinging to his past that ultimately kept Sirius moving forward.
Speaking of clinging to the past... Sirius cocked his head towards the sound of their front door opening, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of Remus making his way in. Before he would have dropped everything and rushed over to greet him at the door, initiated conversation, physical contact, anything. Instead he looked back silently at the kettle before grabbing another mug and placing it next to his own as an answer to the question. He waited silently as Remus settled himself in, eyes trailing his movements until the silence became unbearable. “Milk and sugar are on the table. Figured whatever I do will be wrong so I didn’t bother to try fixing it for you.”
