Foreplay

As January is slowly coming to an end, the weather in London remains miserable with short days, temperatures around zero, drizzle falling from the thick fog that hangs in the air and icy sidewalks. People on the street keep their heads tucked between their shoulders, minding their own business as they rush to their destinations. Most of them, though, can't help but glance at the strange woman in inappropriate shoes, that rushes down the street, wearing lime-green scrub pants, juggling a handbag and a mountain of bags in her hands, and swearing like a sailor at the frizzy hair escaping her hat, getting in her eyes, and her feet slipping dangerously on the ice-covered sidewalk.

Eva Marlowe is running late. Very late, indeed. And she hates it. She isn't usually a very organised person or a stickler for rules but just this once she didn't want to be late. She planned to be early for the meeting. She planned to come in, poised and in control. She planned to talk (about Harry) to Albus before the meeting, calmly and like an adult. She planned to subtly investigate about the mood in the house (mainly about Sirius's mood towards her) so she would not be caught unprepared. She planned to have a defence built up by the time the meeting started.

She even punched out an hour early, changed out of her healer robes and stepped into a pair of sensible boots and was just giving lastminute instructions to the younger healer, when an emergency came in. She hesitated before putting her bags onto the counter. She only planned on taking a short look before leaving the little boy to her colleague. Next thing she knew, the kid had puked all over her very nice winter boots. As she takes being puked on very personally, she had to see the kid through. After healing him and sending him home with his parents, she had to change her clothes. She scourgified her pants and her shoes but not even magic could get rid of the smell. She put on her scrub pants and paired them with the only other pair of shoes she had in her locker, ballet flats. She then rushed out of St Mungo's, her heavy handbag hanging over her shoulder and a variety of bags, filled with study cases, healing books and notes for the Order, in her hands. It was too late to magic them smaller and lighter when she was on the street, full of already suspicious muggles. By the time she reached Grimmauld Place, her legs (in thin scrub pants) were cold like ice but underneath her cloak, she was drenched with sweat.

She cringes, waiting for Mrs Black's portrait to start on her, as the front door slams open loudly, but the hall remains blissfully quiet. She thanks her lucky stars, closes the door behind her with a little more finesse and continues her rush to join the Order meeting, wiping her forehead into her shoulder while still dragging a variety of bags down the narrow staircase. She barges into the basement kitchen where the meeting is in full swing and just as she feared, all eyes turn to stare at her. She hoped she might be able to slip in discreetly, not drawing attention to herself, but it seems even the way she looks, is loud.

The sudden silence makes her swallow nervously. And then she starts to babble.

"Oh, you've started already… I'm so sorry, I'm late. I tried to be early, really. I was already dressed but then some kid puked all over me and then I had to heal him and then I had to change my clothes. That's why I'm in scrubs. Not very appropriate for this weather. And those shoes. They were all I had at work. People were looking at me like I was mad!" Similar to how you all are looking at me right now. She approaches the table, still in a flurry of motion, and people cautiously edge away, giving her space as she dumps all her bags on the table, in process overturning a few glasses and spilling the liquid all over the spread parchment.

"Eva!"

"Oh, shit! Sorry!"

"It's alright," Molly says, shaking her head, still a little disapprovingly as she cleans up the mess.

"I forgot to shrink all my things and then it was too late when I was already on the street, so I had to drag them all over London. I really wish we could apparate into the house. I don't understand why we can't do that when we can clearly apparate between the rooms of the house. Or at least we could set up a safe Apparition point somewhere nearby. What if there's an emergency?" She doesn't really expect an answer, they had been through that a bunch of times. Her frizzy hair spills all over, half obscuring her vision, as she plucks her hat off her head and along with her scarf, chucks it on the table on top of her bags. She huffs up into her face, blowing her hair out of her eyes and wipes her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand. Her heavy coat joins her things on the table, spilling another glass.

"Really, Eva!"

"Sorry, sorry. Maybe I should just put my things away." She gathers everything in her arms and then drops everything back unceremoniously, riffling through the bags, looking for something, in process knocking over more things. "Bugger, my notes for the meeting are in one of those. Oops, I'll clean that up later. Here they are." She looks up with a mix of triumph and sheepishness to see Remus briefly put his hand to his forehead in an unconscious gesture to shield his eyes in embarrassment for her. Eva winces. Tonks is trying to unsuccessfully keep a straight face while Snape glares at her and Albus is giving her his way too kind smile. She bites her lip, looking at the kitchen full of either amused or bewildered people. And when her eyes finally find the face, she had been most eager but also most anxious to see, she only finds an unreadable expression. Sirius raises an eyebrow at her and to her astonishment she feels heat raise to her cheeks. She hasn't felt this awkward in years. Embarrassment, especially about trivial things, was a feeling she has almost forgotten. She looks back to Albus. "Uh…"

"We are happy you could join us, Eva. Maybe you could sit down so we can continue," Albus suggests, his patient smile unwavering.

"Right, right," she agrees, plopping down onto the bench, not bothering to remove her things from the table or clean up the rest of the spillage. Molly sighs, levitating her things to another room and vanishing the mess. Eva gives her a sheepish smile.

She tries to follow the meeting, but she is distracted. Her sweat soaked shirt has gotten uncomfortably cold, her drying hair keeps getting more and more frizzy and her eyes keep getting drawn to Sirius. As her heartbeat slows down and the heat of the room settles on her shoulders, her eyelids grow heavy. Her mind though, is mainly occupied with determining what Sirius' expression means. How will he act later? Will he scoff at her? Will he acknowledge their sort of truce? Will he ignore her? Will he joke with her, making her nostalgic for their younger years? What does she want? Is there any reaction that will not bring her hurt in some way? No, not really. She is worse than a hormonal teenager. She can't help it though.

The only remotely interesting thing at the meeting is hearing Minerva rant about Dolores Umbridge and Snape (although most of the Order members were under impression that the two Heads could not agree about a single thing) seemingly not being able to resist joining in. Eva pursues her lips amusedly (and can tell many of her companions are doing the same) but feels immediately disheartened when she hears about Hagrid's probation. Not only is she indignant because of Hagrid himself but also because she knows how much Harry loves him. She has heard him say more than once that there is no Hogwarts without him. She wishes she could go see him. If she could only take one look at him. And pulled him into her arms just so he knew how much she loves him.

She is so deep in her musings she almost misses Albus leaving.

"Albus, wait a moment!" The bench crushes to the floor with a bang as her foot catches on the edge of it as she swings her leg over it. She looks back at it but doesn't stop to right it as she rushes up the stairs. She also doesn't see Remus close his eyes in exasperation or hear him mutter You are worse than Tonks to himself.

Eva stops uncertainly as she catches up with Dumbledore. Sirius is already talking to him and she is not sure she wants to join them. But then she hears Sirius inquiring about Harry and she forgets all about being polite.

"How is Harry doing?" she interrupts, loudly, rudely and intruding into Dumbledore's personal bubble heavily. She can't help herself. Albus smiles kindly (it almost infuriates her) at her intrusion.

"As I was telling Sirius here (When you so rudely interrupted) I can't really claim to know much about Harry's inner workings. He does seem in better spirits than at the beginning of the school year-"

"That's not saying much." It's Sirius that interrupts this time. "He was very rundown at the start of the school year." Eva nods along to this.

"Frankly, I think it is the thought of teaching his fellow schoolmates the Defence that keeps his spirits up. And the rebellion right under the Ministry's nose." Dumbledore's eyes twinkle and Sirius smirks at this. Without him saying anything she knows exactly what he's thinking; he and James would have loved it, loved being a part of that rebellion. And even she herself can almost see their eyes shining with determination and purpose and rebellion and mischief- Eva looks away to get herself rid of the picture.

"I wrote him a letter," she says, sticking her hand towards the headmaster. "Will you please pass it on to Harry?"

She isn't really asking. She will not take no for an answer.

Albus gives her a calculating look. "Eva, you know this isn't how-" Even before he can finish his sentence, she can feel her hackles raise. Her whole pleasant disposition changes in a second. Resentment, that rests very shallow under her skin, doesn't take much to come to life.

"I'll go see him at Hogwarts. Either you take this to him, or I will go see him." And she wishes suddenly and fiercely that he refuses. Just so she could go see him. "He has already been deprived of so much. Are you really going to deprive him of a kind word too? After all the burden you and all of us have put on his shoulders?"

She has always trusted and respected Albus Dumbledore. She would even go as far as to say, she loves him. So, it is not without guilt, that she says this. A part of her is disgusted with herself. Another part of her, the part that had been so supremely disillusioned when the details of Harry's childhood came to life, is unforgiving. Harry is all that matters.

"What I was going to say is that it isn't the way we usually do things at Hogwarts, but I can make an exception for Harry." His hand closes around the letter. Eva has a feeling he sees right through her threats and longings. He is not about to give her an excuse to storm to Hogwarts and give away her alliance to the Order.

Albus' smile is still kind. And still patient. If a little sadder.

Her stomach clenches with guilt but her eyes stare at the old headmaster unwaveringly. She can only hope her eyes convey to him all her words cannot. The letter stays in Albus' hand as her own hand falls back at her side.

Before he can put away the letter another one appears on top of the first.

"Please, make sure he gets my letter, too." Albus raises his eyebrows at Sirius, and Eva turns to her left to stare at him, too. He doesn't look her way. "I told Harry to leave his response in the same place he finds this letter." Now, why hadn't she thought of that?

Albus sighs. "Sirius…"

"It's Harry." He still doesn't look at her, but she knows his eyes are hard as steal. Both letters disappear inside Albus' sleeve. He gives them a look, that she can't read, before he leaves them standing in the entry hall in silence.

"You just blackmailed Albus Dumbledore," Sirius says suddenly.

"That's not what I wanted. At all. But for Harry…"

"Better watch it, road to hell is paved with good intentions." There's no real warning in his voice. No real disapproval. If anything, it is mockery.

"Aren't we already there?" It slips out before she can put a stop to it. It's not what she had wanted to say at loud. She may be caught in the throes of her own unending misery, but it doesn't mean she wants others to know. Though, Sirius is already aware of it, so to whom better to say it if not him. He seems to bring out her true face, the one she sometimes hides even from herself.

He turns to look at her and lifts his eyebrow sardonically. "Touché."

Eva bites her lip guiltily. "I really didn't want it to come out that way. I was aiming for something subtle."

"You should have let me handle Albus. You have all the charm of a rock," he informs her.

"How was I supposed to have known that you wrote him a letter, too?" She scoffs even as she recognizes the truth in his words; she has never been a charmer.

"You would have known if you had bothered to stop by," he says with definite hardness in his voice.

She looks at him open-mouthed but has no chance to defend herself as he scrunches his nose in contempt before turning away from her and disappearing towards the kitchen. And just when she thought they might continue being amicable.

Well, they agreed for about a minute there.

It is entirely her fault, she knows this. She has contemplated going to see him, not because of some Order related issue, but just because. Because she wanted to see him. And talk to him. And drink tea with him. And maybe eat lunch with him. Or something. But she was scared. There is no other reason she didn't go see him. She just didn't want to hear him ask "What are you doing here?" in confusion when she appeared on his doorstep. Putting herself out there, making herself vulnerable has not gotten any easier even after their conversation.

She considers rushing after him but as she can only predict the outbreak of a spectacular row with his bitter mood and in answer to his biting comments, her inevitably flaring temper, Eva decides to take a breather. She ascends the stairs and enters her (temporary) room for a change of clothes. She exchanges her sweat soaked blouse and thin scrub pants for a burgundy long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black jeans. She puts a brush through her hair but that is mostly a lost cause after being exposed to all that moisture. Still, the enchanted mirror in the bathroom approves and that's good enough. Apparently, she is of a healthier colour than the last time. Figures.

Eva looks longingly at the comfy bed in the room but soon averts her eyes. She sighs deeply, before squaring her shoulders and returning to the kitchen slowly. She entertains the idea of fleeing the house but even if she wanted to escape, she has no idea where Molly has put away her clothes and bags. Besides, how is that going to help anything.

"Oh, Eva. Here you are. I thought you left!" Molly exclaims in surprise but what seems genuine happiness at seeing her. Luckily, the kitchen is bustling with boisterous conversations of various Order members, counting their lucky stars for being invited to one of Molly Weasley's famous meals, and not everyone turns to look at her. She can feel his eyes on her back, though.

"I just went upstairs to talk to Albus and change my clothes," she explains, sounding, to her ears, extremely awkward. Molly raises her eyebrows slightly at the implication, that Eva has still not moved out. She says nothing about it, though.

"I'm glad you stayed. How are you feeling, dear?" Molly asks this quietly and with obvious hint at the night she has sat by the younger woman for hours as she cried her heart out.

"I'm alright. Really, Molly, you don't have to check-up on me every day." Molly nods but Eva has a feeling the Weasley matron doesn't wholly believe her assurances.

"It's no problem, Eva. Now, go find a seat, we're about to eat dinner."

"Do you want help?" Now, isn't she just desperate. Desperate to avoid a bit longer.

"I have it under control. You go sit down. Go on," she ushers her, and Eva has no choice but to find herself a seat.

Immediately, her eyes are drawn to his. He doesn't look away from her and his eyes must have followed her since the moment she has entered the kitchen even if she has heard him participate in a conversation with Remus. His face gives nothing away. He doesn't smile or smirk or scowl or wink or snarl or even look away and she has no idea what he's thinking. She almost wishes he would bare his teeth at her because then she would at least know what to expect. As it is, she stands there undecidedly, torn between braving his company on her own or sitting beside a kind and inviting face of Arthur Weasley, who is certainly not about to stick a knife into her heart with one word.

His blank face bothers her. She used to be able to read his most subtle expressions without effort. She has a disturbing feeling of missing something important but before she can delve deeper into the depths of her own mind, Tonks, bless her heart, motions for Eva to join her. Tonks sits opposite Sirius and Remus and the task of choosing her dinner companions is taken out of her hands. She feels a little bit guilty but a lot more thankful for this.

Eva shuffles towards the trio awkwardly and it occurs to her that the feeling is almost entirely unfamiliar to her. She cannot really remember a time in her life when she was prone to awkwardness. As a young child she was bold, self-assured, and still naively wrapped in her own little dream world. There was hardly anything that made her feel unsure. When she was of age and opportunity to start feeling the awkwardness a growing child, a teenager usually experiences, her world had been shattered by Jonathan and she was numb to all emotions, least of all awkwardness. And when she has finally been dragged out of her stump, she has perfected the art of pretending. Fake it till you make it. She has so long pretended nothing could faze her, that she has at the end believed it herself. Nothing bothers her. If other people want to feel awkward that's their prerogative, she has no reason to look away. She doesn't have to start a conversation. She doesn't feel pressured to perform. To make an impression. To not make a fool of herself. Nothing fazes her.

Except apparently talking to three people, she considers friends. Sort of. As she approaches, she prays to every god she has ever heard of, that it is not up to her to start a conversation, because her head is empty, and her mouth is clamped shut, while her heartbeat drums in her ears.

"Wotcher, Eva. That was quite an entrance before." Tonks smirks at her teasingly and Eva relaxes, thanking her quietly. She doesn't deserve a friend like her. She owes her a bottle of very expensive wine.

Eva shrugs sheepishly, looking down at Tonks. "I've been spending too much time with you. It seems clumsiness is catching," she says pointedly. Tonks and Remus laugh.

"Not that you were ever an example of grace," Sirius states, his words, while carrying little bite, are also not quite playful. She looks at him, her eyes traveling over the ever-graceful planes of his face, and once again realizes she can't read him.

"Well, you know my mother was considered trash and as such never taught me any poise; to catch a husband I only needed to know how to open my legs." He does that to her. Makes her vindictive. And then guilty about being vindictive.

In truth, her mother never said such a thing. If anything, her mother would probably say, that no one will buy a cow if they get milk for free. Not that she would have been opposed to it if that was the way into a solid pure-blooded marriage. As it was, Phillipa Marlowe only ever thought a perfect pure-blooded wife needed to be quiet, obeying, beautiful, sweet on the outside and mudblood-hating on the inside. (Not a single quality was one that her daughter possessed.)

"And it seems you didn't reach anybody's standards as I don't see an ostentatious ring on your finger." His lips twitch but she still cannot tell if he is teasing her or sneering at her.

Tonks keeps looking from Sirius to Eva like she is waiting for the other shoe to drop and Remus rolls his eyes heavenward in disgust. "Do you have to be so crude?"

"Oh, Moony, are your sensitive prissy ears offended?" This time Eva can tell he teases Remus as his grey eyes lit up.

"My ears are not prissy," Remus mutters, a spot of red appearing high on his cheeks.

"Oh, I beg to differ," Eva counters. "You are as prissy as an old lady."

"Is it really so wrong to not want to use vulgar expressions in a civilized conversation?" Remus says pointedly.

"You see any civilized people around here?" Sirius looks around mockingly.

"He means Tonks, here." Eva, still standing by Tonks, pats her scalp patronizingly. "But I'm sure you needn't have worried; she has heard much worse, our Nymphie." Tonks glares at her but Eva just smiles sweetly.

"I'm sure I have," she mutters resentfully at the name she has been dubbed with. "And do call me Tonks."

"Nymphie?" Sirius asks gleefully. He has always liked nicknames. He had nicknames for all his friends, at least half a dozen for Eva herself. She is quite certain she will never hear any of them again. Nowadays she considers herself lucky when he uses her first name.

"No," Tonks denies with a frown.

"I think it suits you," Eva says with a wicked smile. "Adorable."

"I'm an Auror. Nothing adorable about that so I think I will stick with Tonks, thank you very much."

"What about when you get married?" Sirius asks playfully. "You won't be able to go by Tonks then."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you will have your husband's surname."

"Says who?" The tips of Tonks' hair are starting to tint red, and Eva hides a smile. Sirius always was good at getting people's teeth to itch. His eyes sparkle with suppressed mirth and for a moment the boy of her youth shines through. Her heart hammers against her chest painfully. I miss you.

"What about Dora?" Remus, always the peacemaker, suggests gently.

"Uhm…" Tonks stutters, caught between embarrassment and excitement, while Sirius raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks from Remus to Tonks in interest, obviously just now catching on to the tension between them. He looks at Eva, a question written in his eyes and Eva shrugs almost imperceptibly. Who knows what is really going on between them? And if something might come of it. "I… That might not be so bad," Tonks concedes hesitatingly, and Eva thinks she has only agreed because it was Remus that has said it. Both then look alarmingly uncomfortable, and Eva takes pity on them.

"I think I'll still go with Nymphie." Tonks scowls at her but she can see gratitude in her eyes.

"Must you?"

"Only when you are being adorable." Eva winks at her and Tonks rolls her eyes.

"Are you planning on ever sitting down or do you enjoy lording over us?" Tonks changes the subject.

"Leave her, Tonks. Maybe she doesn't want to sit here, would rather enjoy someone else's company. I'm sorry though," he mockingly says to Eva. "Snape has already left."

"What a shame," she deadpans, plonking her arse besides Tonks, opposite Sirius, and stares at him challengingly. His face, to her plummeting heart, remains unreadable.

"I thought you two were supposed to be getting along," Tonks wonders, clearly fascinated but also annoyed with their arguing.

Sirius looks Tonks dead in the eye and speaks stoically. "We are."

Tonks raises her eyebrows dubiously, but Sirius doesn't falter. She looks at Eva, but she too shrugs with an affirmative smile. She figures he has a point. No one has started drinking or yelled or thrown out accusations or burst into tears or stormed off. It's a success. Still not appeased, Tonks turns to Remus for a piece of common sense.

"For them it's like foreplay," Remus confirms with a resigned sigh.

Eva laughs and Sirius gasps mockingly. "Moony, such vulgar language."

Remus doesn't bother with a response and Tonks looks at them like that's the first time she seems them. Eva raises her eyebrows questioningly, but Tonks just shakes her head, deep in thought. For she has finally seen that they, Sirius and Eva, well they sort of fit. Follow a rhythm no one else can follow. And suddenly she longs for it as well. Even if it's disturbing and dysfunctional.

The dinner is served, and Eva is grateful they don't continue the conversation about foreplay. Foreplay is after all something that comes before play and play means sex and love and romance and relationship and even if they are all aware that all that was something they had or experienced in the past, she doesn't want to acknowledge it much less go into details about it. Or even, Merlin forbid, speculate about future foreplay.

"So, how is work Eva?" Remus asks purposefully after they had filled their plates. "Is anyone giving you a hard time about Bode's murder?"

"Oh, no. Everyone has been really great about that. Especially after Aldridge has defended me so publicly. I suspect no one wants to get on his bad side. Everyone knows he will be the one to choose his successor after he retires. The Head of Emergency medicine department is a sought-after position."

"One that he wants to give to you," Tonks reminds her. As if she needs reminding. Eva shrugs.

"I don't know why. I already told him a hundred times that I don't want his job."

"Because you are apparently the best. The future of healing, was what he said, right? Or maybe it's your people skills that he likes." Eva snorts at this, as do Sirius and Remus. That is one thing she really doesn't have.

"Don't insult me. People skills means patience even with useless idiots."

"You should call them that to their faces," Sirius mutters.

"Apparently you have some people skills. Nobody brings me sympathy muffins," Tonks says.

"Yes. And apparently now I'm also getting sympathy dates," she groans.

"What?" All three look at her weirdly.

"Yes. And this from Smethwyck, the old goat. Can you imagine?!" she exclaims affronted. They all look at each other amused. None of them knows who Healer Smethwyck is. "Not only is he a slimy old cad, he is also a lazy and incompetent healer, who is so behind the times, he is practically an antiquity. I wouldn't be surprised if one day I found him bloodletting." She huffs in frustration while the other three stare at her in surprise.

Seeing their expressions, she thinks back on her words and especially on her tone and on the rapidness with which she has said all that and realizes it has been a long time since she has been this passionate about her work. It has been years of apathy; she has not really cared what and how her colleagues work. She has always done her work properly, clocked in more than enough hours, kept up with innovations and collaborated with staff above and below her stance. But she has not innovated herself, has not pushed her co-workers to do better, has not taught the trainees beyond what was mandatory and has therefore not done all she could for the patients. And only now, she realizes, has it started to bother her. And frustrate her.

"Then why don't you want this job? Correct me if I'm wrong but in this position, you would have control over others' work. You could probably even fire this Smethwyck for sexual harassment." Sirius looks at her inquisitively, but Eva focuses on her plate. She hates the way he still knows which questions to ask. The questions that always make her look for answers she didn't want to know.

"Too much paperwork and board meetings," she says dismissively. Too much caring. Too much investing of herself. Too much of everything for someone who can barely get through the day.

Sirius gives her an inscrutable look and she just knows; he sees right through her. Luckily, he says nothing.

They converse (more or less) amicably all through dinner and even long after the plates have been cleared and their dinner companions have said their goodbyes and even after Molly, as the last one, has left (with another check-in with Eva and mentions of left-over food in the pantry).

At some point, even if Remus objects, the wine is poured and Eva is wavering between letting herself enjoy the simple company of friends and the always present undercurrent of tension, that threatens to overwhelm her at most inopportune times. Sometimes, Sirius seems to look almost past her, and they speak pleasantly if a little distantly and then other times, their shared past seems so close to the surface, it is almost tangible. She isn't sure which is harder to bear; when they act like strangers and ignore their past or when they unconsciously fall into the familiar rhythm, like it was only yesterday that they bickered about who caused the flood on the bathroom floor.

It's close to midnight when Tonks finally leaves for her place, Sirius disappears upstairs almost immediately, and Remus helps Eva clean up the kitchen. She hasn't exactly volunteered but she feels weird just leaving dirty dishes on the table. Remus passes her the glasses from the table and they work in silence. Eva is content not saying anything, but she can tell that Remus is just bursting to say something. She could probably escape him. She could play dumb. But she owes him to at least listen if he has something to say. She gives him a pointed look and a small smile and Remus seizes the opportunity.

"That went well, right?"

"You mean as far as passive-aggressive conversations go?" Eva chuckles at her own words. She can be pretty funny sometimes if she says so herself.

"Yeah." There is something completely fake in Remus' voice and when Eva studies his face she comes to the realization, that he is disappointed. Her smile drops and she turns to face him.

"Remus, that did go pretty well. What did you expect?"

"I don't know." He drags a hand through his greying hair and braces his palms against the counter. "The other day, when I came into Sirius' bedroom you two seemed like you are finally getting along. Like you were letting go, moving forward."

"And we were. But that was just one moment. One step. It's a process getting back to- I don't even know what to. Friendship? And we might never get there. We might not even take another step towards it. We certainly can't just continue from where we ended fourteen years ago," she explains gently. She is surprised though, that Remus of all people would expect them to. She guesses even sensible and down-to-earth Remus Lupin gets overtaken by heart-wrenching nostalgia.

"It's that why you haven't ended up in his bed?" he asks almost maliciously. Eva flicks her eyes towards his hard face, gritting her teeth. So, he told Remus? She isn't sure why she is surprised by it.

If it were anyone else, she would snap at them to mind their own business. But this is Remus, and he is not just one of her oldest friends, he was also so entwined into her relationship with Sirius, that he was basically a part of it. All their friends were.

"And that's another reason we deem you prissy; you think every shag has to mean something." She can't help her sneer. "Do you think it was some big reconciliation? Because it wasn't. It was just us, finding another way to hurt each other. Oh, look, but maybe we have picked up where we ended. We always loved to be on a path of collision."

"I'm sorry, Eva. I had no right-"

"No, you didn't," she says with a hard voice but then softens at the contrite look in his eyes. "Sometimes, I feel like someone has put a stop on my life when Lily and James died. Like I have stopped living and am still waiting for someone to press play." The fact is that even now, that she knows Sirius is innocent and she has been reunited with old friends and has found purpose in her work again and is fighting another war against evil and has her godson (and he is her godson, even if they never got to officiate it) to think of, she is still waiting. What for, she doesn't know. "But the truth is, that no one will do it for me. It is me, that must kickstart my life. Don't ask me how, Remus, but I do know nothing will ever be as it was and waiting for me and Sirius to get our shit together so you can feel like something is right in your life? Not only it is damn near impossible, but it will also not be what you are waiting for."

Where the insight came from, she has no idea, but she must have said something really wise or extraordinary stupid from the look Remus is giving her. She is now also in a decidedly worse mood (in a mood for hard liquor) than she was before her conversation with Remus. She is sick of talking.

"Goodnight." She doesn't give him a chance to respond as she wipes her hands with a dishtowel and leaves him in the kitchen with a pile of half washed dishes.

She is left to her own devices to spy where Molly has put her things and dig out her coat and bags from where they have been stuffed into a hall closet. She is halfway out, her thoughts on that bottle of firewhisky, when she glances through the open door and notices Sirius absentmindedly staring at the wall in the dining room.

"Sirius?" It is too late to back out now that her traitor of a mouth has decided to speak so she enters the room.

"You're still here." Is that just an observation or is he eager to get rid of her? She used to be able to tell.

"I was talking to Remus." He nods noncommittedly. "Is something wrong?" she asks, looking in the direction he was staring but finding noting of interest.

"No, just passing time. Sleep doesn't come easy to me these days," he tells her. Or rather, the nightmares come too easily.

She bites her lip hesitating and then makes up her mind, searching her cloak pocket for a small bottle. She outstretches her hand and offers the bottle to him.

"This will help you sleep." Sirius takes it with raised eyebrows and brings it up to his eye. Even without the label, he can tell what it is.

"Dreamless Sleep Potion? Isn't that supposed to be very addictive?"

Eva shrugs. "I wouldn't recommend it for daily use but every once in a while, you should get a good night's sleep."

"You sure you wouldn't rather lace my firewhisky with it?" Eva's eyes widen at the implication. And she was so sure he had no idea. Sirius smirks as she stands there like a deer caught in headlights.

"I didn't think you noticed."

"I didn't. I did notice in the morning though, when I couldn't remember how I got to my bed." A small oversight.

"It was a Christmas gift," she says and out loud it sounds ridiculous. Sirius only chuckles.

"Thanks. I had a good night's sleep." And suddenly it is a little bit less ridiculous. "And thanks for this." He motions towards the bottle in his hand. Eva nods.

"I should go. I have work tomorrow and…" She trails off when a thought comes to her. "I could come over one day after work? Maybe I could bring lunch? You do have to eat…" Awkwardness, her new best friend. Marlowe just shut up. Sirius stares at her inscrutably and she fidgets uncomfortably.

It might be a small thing in anyone else's eyes but for her it's a big thing, exposing her insecurities like this. And he could either call her out on them or take an olive branch. You never knew what it will be with Sirius Black, he could either be malicious or uncommonly kind.

"I do have to eat. Are you going to cook?"

Eva breaths in relief but then tenses again. She planned on bringing a warm meal from the hospital cafeteria.

"Uhm… Do you want me to cook?"

"Have you gotten any better at it in the last fourteen years?"

"Not really, no."

"Then, no."

"Oh." Thank Merlin. "I'll bring something from the cafeteria. I usually eat there, it's pretty good. Any preferences?"

"Whatever you're having. As long as it has meat in it. And no rice. Also no mushrooms. Or green things." Yeah, no preferences.

"Alright. Then… I'll see you… then…" She was seriously never that awkwardly weird as a teenager. Sirius has seemingly decided he will ignore her weirdness and while a part of her is grateful, another part knows, that the boy, she used to love, would never let her get away with it.

"Goodnight. And cheers." He gestures to the potion in his hand and leaves her staring after him.

Now she really needs a drink.

What was that all about? Does he want her to come? And if he does, does he want her to come, because he is hungry for any human interaction? Or does he want her to come? Or maybe he doesn't want her to come? But then why would he be so angry about her not stopping by?

She really wishes she could read him like before. She used to be sensitive to tiny nuances in his mood. She would know what he was thinking merely by a twitch of a nerve in his jaw or sucking of his cheek. And it occurs to her for the first time, that he has let her. He has let her read him. He has let her in. Back then he has let her in much more than she had realized. If he did it knowingly, she doesn't know but he has let his guard down around her and let her in his intimate world. The realization feels like a hit to her solar plexus and her breath catches in her throat.

She tells herself that it doesn't matter. Not anymore. That it is all in the past. Somehow she still drinks half a bottle of firewhisky regretting.