Before It Goes Cold
The kettle on the stove began to scream, and Remus let out a breath of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. He busied himself with the teacups, grateful for the excuse to turn away from the ragged-looking man standing in his kitchen.
It was coming, and he knew it. There was only so much small talk one could make in a situation like this. Soon he would have to say the things he'd been rehearsing for the past year, preparing for the moment when the two of them would be alone and he'd be forced to offer this feeble, worthless ghost of an apology.
Remus braced himself. It was no use stalling. He turned to face his visitor, willing himself to begin.
"Creme?" He winced at his own cowardice.
Across the kitchen, Sirius shrugged. He looked bizarrely out of place in the clean little room. It was almost funny, but not quite.
"Doesn't matter. I reckon it'll be a nice change from puddle water either way."
His voice was light and there was a grin on his face, but Remus wondered if there was something accusatory in the words. After all, why shouldn't there be?
He set the tea on the table as quickly as he could, sincerely hoping that Sirius hadn't noticed the slight rattling of the cups on their saucers.
Say it now, he ordered himself as they both took their seats.
But even though he'd practiced the words, now that the moment had arrived they seemed unbearably thin. There were no apologies, no profusions of regret, that could give those twelve years back to him. No words that could bring back the friends they'd both lost.
Sirius watched him, waiting. But as Remus opened his mouth to speak, he cut across.
"Cheers, Moony."
He raised his teacup, and Remus was sure now that there were no accusations in his expression. Sirius nodded at the untouched cup on the table.
"You should drink that before it goes cold."
There would be time enough for painful acknowledgments, time enough to open the wounds that had never quite healed over. For now, they were somehow here in the same place, on the same side, two-quarters of what was once a four-piece band.
For now, a cup of tea would do.