A/N: This chapter is SO self-indulgent - I apologise in advance! But it was just so much fun to write (and research!) this little deep dive into Sirius's public persona and perhaps going a little meta in the process (sorry to all my fellow Starbucks shippers!). Thanks to everyone from Harry Styles to Lars Ulrich, from Matt Bellamy to Corey Taylor, random Metallica roadies to Týr band members and so many others for providing the inspiration (and some direct quotes) for this chapter. And thanks to Dame Maggie Smith, Tom Cruise, and Graham Norton for letting me borrow them for a bit.


London, May 9, 2020

A bright sun shone in a crisp, blue sky on Saturday morning, and by noon, the temperature reached 15°C, so Remus, Lily, and Marlene, like true Brits, donned shorts and sandals and joined Frank and Alice for a day in the park. Remus had left his phone a home and felt a million pounds lighter without it. Being outside with his friends—playing games, eating sandwiches, visiting the flea market, and not thinking of Sirius—was just the cure he needed. When they got back, a little more freckled and windswept than they had been this morning, they were all too tired to cook, so they ordered Thai for tea and put on a film while they ate. Everything was back to normal, thank God. But as he was getting ready for bed, a small, flashing light on his mobile told him he had a new message. Taking the phone from its charger, he brought it into the bathroom and absentmindedly unlocked it while brushing his teeth. It was probably one of his colleagues asking about lesson plans for next week.

Except it wasn't.

[Unknown, 3:48 pm] Hi Remus, how are you? I'm sorry about the hasty goodbye the other day. I'm in town tomorrow evening—any chance of getting to see you again? -S.

Remus paused in his brushing and stared at the screen. It took him a few read-throughs to comprehend the content of the message. 'S.'? That could only be… but it couldn't be! He had just resigned himself to never hearing from Sirius again, and now the idiot was reaching out?

He realised toothpaste was drippling down his chin and hurried to spit and rinse his toothbrush. After wiping his face, he stared at the phone again. The message was still there.

Several impulses fought for dominance. His heart skipped a couple of beats, and his legs were ready to jump for joy, but a little voice in the back of his mind told him to delete the message and pretend he'd never seen it. To be angry at the git for making him wait so long. Another part of him wanted to run up to the roof and shout to the world that Sirius goddamn Black wanted to see him again, but Marlene's words from yesterday still rang in his ears, "…it won't end well…." Did he want to go down this road? What did he actually know about this man? Was he blinded by fame and good looks, or was there more there? And could he keep his heart intact if it turned out that Sirius only wanted a fuckbuddy for when he was in town?

He needed to know more about Sirius. He hurried back to his room and brought his laptop to the bed. Feeling oddly dirty for what he was about to do, he dug out a pair of headphones so as not to alert the girls. But in this day and age it was practically obligatory to stalk potential dates online, right? It wasn't his fault that there was so much more material available when the person under investigation was a famous rock star, was it?

He opened his browser and entered 'Sirius Black' in the search field. As expected, several pages of results appeared. He skimmed the first few hits—the standard stuff: Wikipedia page, Twitter, Instagram etc. The image results momentarily side-tracked him, making his stomach do weird somersaults, especially a particular image of a sweaty Sirius on his knees, in the middle of a show, licking the neck of his guitar, deliciously reminiscent of Sirius on his knees, in a hotel room, licking something entirely different.

He shook the image from his mind and clicked on to the video section—there must be an interview or a documentary or something more productive. However, his gaze was quickly drawn to a thumbnail of Sirius pulling an exasperated grimace. The title read: Sirius Black being in a mood for 7 minutes straight. Intrigued, he clicked on it and was taken to YouTube. It turned out to be a rapid series of out-of-context clips of Sirius in various interview situations; sometimes on his own, other times in the company of the rest of the band. One clip showed him on a red carpet of some event. A reporter stuck a mic into his face as he walked past. "Sirius! Can you tell us about the upcoming album?"

"Yes…!" Sirius gave a sloppy grin and bent close to the microphone. "It's full of… chords. At least three different ones so far!" he added, looking chuffed.

Remus couldn't tell if he was pissed or taking the piss. Maybe both. Probably both, judging by the way he was leaning on Fabian who was sniggering beside him.

The video then transitioned to a radio studio if the professional-looking headsets and mics were anything to go by. The host was asking, "Your new record just hit the stores yesterday, and it's quite a change from your last two albums. A lot of the songs feel more personal, some of them light on the surface but darker when you dig down into the lyrics. What would you say this album is about?"

Sirius, who was wearing dark aviator sunglasses despite them being indoors, slid low in his seat and laughed. "Hell if I know…!"

Before the clip changed, James could be seen leaning into his own mic and saying, "What Padfoot is trying to say is—"

Another studio, this time a TV studio. The whole band was squeezed together on a ragged-looking couch, the host wrapping up the interview. "Any last words for our viewers?"

James grabbed the mic and said: "Buy our album!"

"Buy our album…" Gideon chimed in with a low whisper, almost chant-like. "Buy it…."

Sirius, who was sitting between Gideon and James, leant towards the microphone. "And if you see our bass player… remember to walk the other way. Cross the road! Avoid any eye contact—it's very important!" He winked at the camera, revealing a chipped canine when he smiled. Why hadn't Remus noticed that before?

The next clip was grainy, and the audio sounded like it came from a tin can, but it was clearly from a live performance at a club of some sort. The crowd was cheering wildly at the very sweaty band. James was busy downing a pint of beer, spilling most of it down his bare chest, so Sirius, also shirtless, stepped up to the mic. "Alright you bastards, any requests for our next song?"

A lot a people shouted at the same time, but one guy could be distinctly heard over the ruckus, shouting, "Play Freebird!"

Sirius casually flipped him off and said, "There you go, next one'll cost ya'," and launched into an ear-splitting riff, soon joined by Gideon and Fabian.

The scene changed once more, this time to a strikingly young-looking Sirius sitting on a sofa next to James, who was stretching his arms, looking bored. The interviewer, a platinum-blonde woman with way too much lip-filler asked, "Sirius Black: Is that a stage name?"

James suddenly perked up and intercepted Sirius's answer, "Yes, his real name is Stubby Boardman!"

Sirius barked out a laugh. "I'm still waiting for the numerologist to return my money…."

The next clip was from yet another live performance, this time from some TV show. The Marauders were walking onto a small stage, and while the rest of the band were plugging in their instruments, Sirius stepped up to the mic. "Hello, we're the Marauders, and we're here to serve you our problems dressed as songs. This one is about that one friend who owes you money but is throwing his cash at strippers every Saturday—One, two, three, four!" Remus vaguely recognised the song from the concert and was pretty sure it was about an assassin of some sort….

Then Sirius was standing backstage, leaning on a broom talking to the camera. "… that's a good question, I haven't thought about it, really…. Oh, and by the way, I'm just leaning on this, I've no idea how to actually use one of these," he said with a casual air before breaking into a big smile, looking ridiculously handsome as he flicked a wayward curl out of his face. "Sorry, what was the question?"

Cut to the four Marauders sitting on a velvet couch on some morning TV show.

"Some would say you're redefining the genre—" the interviewer said.

"What genre is that?" Sirius interrupted, tilting his head, completely stone-faced. When the host didn't reply, only chuckled nervously, he went on, "No, honestly, I'd like to know? People have told us were not metal anymore"—he did air quotes around the word 'metal'—"because we did a ballad, but since Gideon was doing fucking blast beats, it's apparently not pop or rock either. So, what is it exactly? And why does it matter? We're not writing these songs to fit into some stupid box defined by someone else. We're writing them because we can't help it."

James tried to add something at this point, but Sirius pulled the mic back and went on, "And what even is metal these days? There're hundreds of subgenres and some of them only contain one band, for God's sake! Why does it have to be a genre? It becomes so limiting, you know? No, you can't use synths in this genre, no you can't have harmonies in that one, no you can't have clean vocals if you want to be so and so…. I say fuck it! And so does any musician in the world by the way—it's everyone else who are so preoccupied with trying to categorise and confine."

He honestly came off a bit arrogant, but the passion behind his statements was still evident. And who knew how many times he had been forced to deal with the same comments from journalists and show-hosts?

The next clip had to be from the same interview, since everyone were still sitting on the same couch, wearing the same clothes.

"James, some say you have the biggest range of any rock singer out there today—" the host began but was yet again cut off by Sirius.

"I beg you, don't finish that sentence. The only thing bigger than his range is his ego."

"Oh, I can think of a few more things…" James said, leaning into Sirius and wagging his eyebrows.

"Case in point." Sirius put his hand on James's face and pushed him away.

Remus snorted. This was definitely an apt description of James, even having only met the guy once.

The next clip had the band back at a red carpet, flashes going off constantly, making Sirius's shades sparkle. A perky journalist in a floor length gown stuck her microphone up to Sirius. "What is your guilty pleasure pop song?"

"Haven't got one," Sirius answered with a shrug. "Why should I feel guilty about anything that I listen to? My playlist contains everything from Camilla Cabello to Cannibal Corpse—deal with it!" He pointed at the camera as he said the last words and pulled down his sunglasses to fix the viewer with a stern look, before walking off.

The scene then changed to a backstage area of some festival, judging by the grass they were standing on and the stage rigging that could be seen in the background. Muffled, heavy music was playing loudly, and the interviewer had to shout to make himself heard.

"And look who we have here!" he said, intercepting Sirius who was walking past with a beer in his hand. When he heard the reporter, he stopped in his tracks and grinned at the camera.

"Hi! I'm Harry Styles, I'm from One Direction," he said with a wave. Then he frowned. "Wait, no that's not right…" he mumbled and checked the ID hanging from his neck. "Oh bugger, it's upside down, help me out here, mate?" he said, holding out the lanyard to the reporter.

"…Says here you're… Sirius Black from the Marauders," the reporter said, squinting at the pass.

"That arsehole?! Man… can you believe my luck?" Sirius said, looking around as if hoping someone would come and save him from his terrible fate.

"I'd say you're pretty lucky, as the Marauders are closing the stage tonight."

"There's that," Sirius said with a shrug and put his grin back on.

"How do you feel? Excited? Nervous?"

"Hell yeah!" Sirius laughed. "If the day ever comes when I'm not nervous, it's the day I'll be quitting music. But it is not this day!" he said and brandished his pint like a sword, causing half of it to spill down his arm.

The reporter's reply was drowned out by shouts as James came running up, half-tackling Sirius and sending the rest of his beer flying. Sirius managed to steady himself before falling over and slung an arm around his friend's shoulder, stopping his momentum. "Prongs!" He laughed, ruffling James's already messy hair. James planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek and smiled drunkenly at the camera. Sirius wiped the drool off with a disgusted sound. "And people say I'm the dog…."

The reporter laughed and tried to pull their focus back. "So, do you have any surprises in store for us tonight?"

"Yes!" Sirius exclaimed. "James is gonna sing in key!"

James just responded with a loud "Woohoo!" and the video changed to another red carpet-event. This time Remus could make out the words on the backdrop: Grammy Awards. Sirius had gone to the trouble of wearing a suit instead of his usual leather, but the gesture was somewhat diminished by the fact that he'd left out the shirt, making his tattoos peek out of the tightfitting blazer. The sleeves were also shorter than usual, so the various stones and charms on his bracelets jangled as he swept a hand through his hair and smiled at the reporter.

"What would you be if you weren't a musician?" the journalist asked.

"A virgin," Sirius answered promptly with a grin, and then the video ended with a riff and a card telling people to like and subscribe.

Remus stared at the screen for a while. That last comment…. Or was it just a cheeky remark meant to fend off a question he couldn't be bothered answering? He seemed generally averse to questions, often deflecting with humour or a change of subject, but it was impossible to judge from such short clips, really…. Hitting the back button, Remus scrolled through the search results once more. Official Marauders website, merch vendors, ticket sites…. He clicked on the first link that didn't look to be an official page: an address called .

It looked like a fan page, and it was full of pictures: some from concerts, a few candid shots, and others studio shots. All of them were flattering though, and the website creators clearly favoured shirtless shots. They had Remus's deepest sympathies. There were also lots of videos. He expanded the text under a thumbnail showing Sirius lying draped across a bus seat, playing his guitar.

[Bl ck_Is_The_New_Sexy: padfoot being padfoo tour bus live journal #texas #marauders #sexy #myFutureHusband #soHot #dreamy #marryMe #darkAndBroodingFTW]
2 months ago

Cringing a little over the excessive heart-use, Remus clicked on the video, which turned out to be James using his phone to report from their tour bus. An arid landscape sped by outside as he pushed aside a curtain. "And through here, we'll probably find Black brooding or doing his hair—it's usually either of the two…." James told the viewers, and sure enough: Sirius was half sprawled across two seats, lazily strumming out a slow tune on his guitar and singing a soft, almost whining song.

Whooooo really cares anymore…?

"Oi, Padfoot! Stop faffing about and say hi to the fans!"

James picked up a pillow and threw it at him, but Sirius didn't even flinch—he just kept playing and put extra effort into sounding like he was in great emotional pain when he reached the chorus of the song.

I don't loooooooove you, I neeeeever did….

"Oh, cheer up, will you, Padfoot? The song is called 'Hyper Music' for fuck's sake—it's not supposed to be played like that!"

Without missing a beat, Sirius stated, "That was last year, Prongs, I've upgraded it—it's called 'Hyper Chondriac Music' now."

I don't waaaant you and I neeeever will…!

"Aw, you know you don't mean that—everybody loves me!" James said, lunging forward and snatching the guitar to surprisingly little protest.

"Jaaaames, are we there yet?" Sirius draped an arm across his face and threw his head backwards into the seat. "I'm bored out of my mind!"

"Great minds are never bored—come on, Pete's fallen asleep again!" James said and threw a permanent marker to Sirius.

Remus smiled as the video ended. Sirius had told him that he wasn't much of a singer, but he was obviously being modest. Even when singing as a joke, he clearly had a nice voice. Maybe not the raw power that James had, but it was a different flavour—darker, grittier…. Effortless, just like his guitar playing. And those fingers, moving across the strings….

The top few comments were shown underneath the video: [OMG who else wants them to record hyper chondriac music?], [I love Prongs!], [if you're bored padfoot come to my house plzzz]

Remus paused at seeing the nicknames again. Padfoot and Prongs. What was the story behind them?

Scrolling on, he saw another video:

[SiriuslyObsessed_93: We've been busted guys haha ;-P #SorryNotSorry]
6 months ago

The Marauders were visiting Graham Norton, all four of them sitting on the long couch along with Tom Cruise and Dame Maggie Smith. Sirius was wearing his leather jacket and sunglasses again and James was lounging with his hands interlocked behind his head and his left ankle draped over his right knee.

"So, are you lads aware of the corner of the internet devoted to the ah… subject… of something called 'Starbucks'?" the host began.

"What, like Ventis and Grandes and shit?" James asked.

"Not exactly…. It's got something to do with this thing called 'shipping'," Norton explained.

"Oh dear…." Fabian whistled, apparently already catching on.

"Yes, and this is a special brand of shipping, known as 'slash'," Norton went on.

"Oh, I met him once!" Sirius said. "Stole his top hat."

"He was not amused." James shook his head.

"Now, while that sounds like an interesting story, we're getting off course—no pun intended—"

"Oh, sorry, do go on—you were saying something about coffee imports?" Sirius said. Remus was fairly sure he was being intentionally thick at this point.

Norton laughed along with the audience and continued, "Far from it. 'Shipping' is an abbreviation of the word 'relationship' and fans go online to fantasise about people, usually fictional characters—or in this case: celebrities—being in a relationship. Now, it's usually accompanied by a catchy name like Brangelina or Bennifer. And 'Starbucks' comes from the fact that you, Sirius, are named after a star and your nickname, James, is—"

"Prongs. Oh no, I see where this is going…" James said, pulling a face and covering his eyes with his hand.

"We have an image, actually, that sort of embodies the spirit of it. Would you like to see it? Can we get it up on the screen here, please?" Norton said, swivelling around to face the screen behind him.

The audience whooped and whistled as the screen showed a drawing of what was obviously meant to resemble Sirius and James, shirtless and locked in a heated kiss. The bottom of the picture was blurred out.

"Oh my," Dame Maggie Smith said, quickly covering her eyes.

"Well, that's hotter than a tall double latte…!" James said, wide-eyed, while the twins were sniggering loudly. Gideon whispered something to Sirius who smacked him over the back of the head.

"Is that image to scale, or…?" Tom Cruise added, squinting at the screen. The audience hooted and catcalled.

"Wait there's more!" Norton went on, excitement shining from his eyes. "Someone has taken the time to make a little compilation of footage from your shows and interviews in support of 'Starbucks'. Let's take a look, shall we?"

Sirius buried his face in his hands, shifting in his seat, though his shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

The video was a series of clips and images of James and Sirius looking intently at each other during concerts—crawling on top of each other on interview couches—Sirius interrupting James mid-answer by sticking his tongue in his ear—James lifting Sirius's shirt to show off his abs to a female reporter or lovingly dabbing sweat off his face with a towel while he was performing a solo. There was even a shot of them, on a red carpet somewhere, sticking out their tongues and rubbing them together before succumbing to a laughing fit. The last clip showed the two of them playing their guitars, facing each other as closely as their instruments would allow. They both had their eyes scrunched up and their mouths open and were so engrossed in their music it almost looked like they were close to orgasm. And the up and down movements of their hands could certainly be interpreted along those lines.

"Now boys, is there something you would like to announce to the world?" Norton said, wagging his eyebrows.

James didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, we're getting married in June—would you like to be best man?"

It took a good few moments before Norton was able to make himself heard over the audience again. "There was actually a rumour going around a few months ago…."

Sirius rested his elbows on the back of the couch, moving a bit stiffly, but Remus couldn't read his expression, as he was still wearing the sunglasses. "It's all lies, man. Now, whatever you might have heard about the twins is one hundred percent true. And you've only heard ten percent of it."

This got him a wall of whooping and whistling from the audience.

"Now don't be changing the subject again," Norton admonished, shaking his cue cards at Sirius. "Because someone calling themselves Prongsfoot309 has posted all these which seem to support the theory." He turned to the screen again which now played a slideshow of Sirius and James caught in various situations, holding or drinking from—well… a Starbucks cup.

The audience roared with laughter.

"People, he's like my brother—It would be incest!" James turned to them, putting on an exaggerated look of horror. "We leave that sorta thing to these two idiots." He smirked and prodded Fabian who was sitting next to him.

"Oi?!" Fabian scowled at him.

"Boys, I think I need to have a talk with your mother," Dame Maggie Smith told the twins.

Remus couldn't decide what to make of this clip. He wondered whether James knew Sirius liked men? How many people did he keep it hidden from? He had looked more and more uncomfortable as the interview progressed, but neither Norton, the audience, nor the other Marauders seemed to have noticed it. He didn't believe the Starbucks theory; it was clear from what he had seen so far—from the videos and from the night at the Hog's Head—that James and Sirius were indeed like brothers. Teasing, bickering, and speaking without words. And having each other's backs. James had gone along with Norton's joke until Sirius had tried to change the subject, then James immediately caught the ball and went with it. So perhaps he knew why Sirius would be uncomfortable with the topic?

Remus left the fan page and scrolled further down through the search engine results. The next hits all looked to be tabloid articles about Sirius being either arrested, seen with some actress, or trashing hotel rooms. In the interest of impartiality, he clicked on one of them.

It was a two-year-old article from The Sun with the headline: 'Sirius Black Dumped by Singer Celestina Warbeck after Arrest'.

The relationship between rising star Celestina Warbeck (23) and infamous Marauder Sirius Black (25) became short-lived after the guitarist was arrested Saturday night. Following Celestina's concert in Cambridge, Black got into an argument with three male guests at a local night club. It quickly turned into a fight which had to be broken up by the police. When searching Black, they discovered several grams of cocaine as well as MDMA and amphetamine. The clearly intoxicated guitarist struggled against the officers but was eventually locked up for the night. Released on bail Monday morning and picked up by fellow Marauder James Potter, he is now facing charges of possession, public intoxication, assault and resisting arrest. Following his release, Warbeck promptly ended their relationship. Sources close to the now ex-couple claim that she was fed up with his substance abuse, and she is quoted saying, "I hope he gets the help he needs." He certainly looks like someone in need of help judging by the pictures snapped by on-lookers Saturday night. Perhaps he can get that help from national team star and captain of the Holyhead Harpies, Gwenog Jones (26), whom he was seen in the company of on Monday night.

The accompanying pictures showed a man being led away in handcuffs. The lighting was poor, and the quality was grainy, but there was no mistaking Sirius, despite the dark circles under his eyes and the blood dripping from a gash in his lip.

Feeling like he had impinged on a very private moment, Remus quickly hit the back button. Marlene had mentioned Sirius had done drugs but until seeing the pictures, it had been easy to dismiss it as the usual rock star shenanigans. All part of the image. This, however, was far from glamorous. This was a broken man whose life was spiralling out of control.

Nausea spread in his stomach, but underneath, a different feeling lurked. How awful it must be to have the whole world looking at your every misstep and treating it like mere entertainment. And who was he to judge? He himself had done a lot of things in his life he wasn't proud of, but they hadn't been plastered over the front pages. And it looked like Sirius had got clean since. He certainly looked a lot healthier these days. Besides, how much of the article could honestly be believed, seeing as it came from The Sun? There was no denying the photos though….

And had Sirius really dated Celestina Warbeck? Even with Remus's limited ability to keep up to date with these things, her comet career had been impossible to miss and she was widely considered one of Britain's most beautiful women—how could he ever even hope to compete with that?

Exhausted from this rollercoaster of a google search, he flipped his laptop closed and got under the covers. No closer to reaching a conclusion, he would have to think of a response to Sirius tomorrow. The man had made him wait a week, so he could wait a day, see what that felt like.

It was past nine the next morning when he woke, which was quite unusual for him, but he had kept waking up during the night, tossing and turning fretfully, dreams all jumbled and confusing. He couldn't remember any of them, just a general feeling of being lost and scared.

"Good morning," Lily greeted him as he exited his bedroom, clad in his robe and slippers. She was sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, and reading a copy of Nature Medicine.

"Morning," he yawned and shuffled towards the kitchen.

"Rough night?"

"Yeah. Didn't get much sleep."

"Seemed like you were enjoying yourself yesterday—I thought you were feeling better?" Lily said, narrowing her eyes. She got up and followed him into the kitchen.

"I was," Remus said, checking the coffee pot for any leftovers.

"Sorry, I drank it all," Lily said with an unapologetic half-shrug. "Then, what happened? Why do you look like you've been run over by a bus?"

"Ouch, that hurts my feelings, Lils," he mocked, putting a hand over his heart.

Lily just made a sound and waved him off.

"I, er… I got this last night." He pulled out his phone from his robe pocket and showed her the text from Sirius.

"Is this…." She squinted at the screen. "Is this from Sirius?" Her eyes lit up as he nodded. "But that's wonderful, Remus!"

He busied himself with counting the number of scoops he put into the coffee filter.

"Isn't it?" Lily frowned.

"I don't know." Remus smacked the lid on the coffee maker closed and pressed the button. "I don't know what he wants. As wonderful as it was, I don't wanna be someone he can just call whenever he wants to get off, and that might be all he sees this as. Besides, tonight's Curry Night, and I'm not one to stand up my friends for a boy."

"Oh, don't be silly, Remus. Curry Night is every Sunday. You're allowed to miss one once in a while." She bumped him with her shoulder. "And what makes you think he just wants to get off?"

Remus shrugged. "I don't know. He's a rock star, isn't he? And I'm a nobody. He's handsome and talented and could get anyone he wants, and I'm just… me."

"What—rock stars can't want the same things as the rest of us?" Lily challenged. "And you're a good-looking bloke with lots to offer, even if you don't believe it yourself." She smiled and prodded his side.

He huffed out a laugh. "Has the world gone topsy-turvy?! Yesterday, Marlene—Marauders Fan Extraordinaire—was advising me against getting involved with Sirius Black, and here you are—sceptic, sensible Lily, who basically told James Potter to get lost—advising me the opposite." Remus laughed and shook his head.

"Look, I'm not pretending to know what his intentions are, but aren't you at least a bit curious?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Invite him to join us tonight. If he just wants sex, he won't want to spend an evening with your friends, but if he says yes, you have something to work from."

Remus snorted at the image of Sirius Black, sitting down with them in their meagre flat to play Pictionary and eat curry. But maybe the idea was not completely without its merits? Maybe Lily was right; why couldn't rock stars want the same as regular people? And it wasn't like he could think of a better way of gauging Sirius's intentions.


Glasgow, May 10, 2020

Ten thousand miles left on the road
Five hundred hours 'till I am home
I need something human
Human

To Sirius's surprise, the Glasgow show had gone without a hitch. It had even been fun. In between sound checks and wardrobe, he had finally managed to formulate a message to Remus after accepting that it wasn't going to be poetry. The liberation of hitting 'send' and the anticipation of a reply kept his energy levels up the whole night. It wasn't until after the show that he began to worry that perhaps no reply would come. And when he woke up the next morning, a stone of disappointment settled into his stomach when he checked his phone. No new messages.

He sighed and heaved himself out of bed. This was probably for the best. He wasn't sure what the next step would have been if Remus said yes, but this way he was saved the trouble of coming up with something. He went about his morning routine—work-out, shower, shave—joined the others for breakfast in the hotel restaurant and got on the bus back to London. They would be busy with tour preparations as well as some TV appearances before leaving for Amsterdam next Monday, kicking off the continental leg, but they had the rest of today off. The weather was perfect for a run with Snuffles and then perhaps a ride on his bike.

They were just passing Leeds when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Adrenaline rushing through his veins, he sat up straight in his seat. He replied! An involuntary smile spread across his face as he read the message.

[Remus, 10:13 am] Hi! I have to admit I wasn't expecting you to actually contact me. I'm sorry, but Sundays are Curry & Board Games Night with my friends, so unless that's your thing, maybe we can find some other time?

"Something good happen?" James said from his seat across from him, apparently not so engrossed in his newspaper as Sirius had thought.

"Yes, they finally discovered a cure for your big-headedness. They should roll it out any day now." Sirius ducked when James balled up the article on Brexit he had been reading and threw it at him.

"If they could bundle it with a vaccine against your obnoxiousness, that would be great," James mumbled and went back to what was left of his paper.

Sirius stared at the message again. His initial thrill faded as it occurred to him that this could be Remus's polite way of saying 'no thanks'. It wasn't a clear rejection, but it wasn't a clear invitation either, was it? He bit his lip—he could ask James for advice, but he would never hear the end of it…. So instead, he tried to channel some of James's big-headedness in his reply.

[Sirius, 10:27 am] I love curry and board games.

Shit. This was way too forward. It didn't leave any room for Remus to say no. And he didn't even know any board games other than Scrabble. He should've—No, dammit, why did he keep second-guessing himself? It wasn't like him. He hated when people played games, so he always strived to just say what he wanted. Why should he suddenly stop now?

He was pulled from his whirling thoughts when James stuck out a hand to stop his knee jumping up and down. He hadn't even realised he had been doing that. His phone vibrated in his hand again, almost making him jump a second time.

[Remus, 10:31 am] Really? You're more than welcome to join us, but I have to warn you that Alice and her boyfriend are coming too. I haven't told them anything about what happened after leaving the pub, so we will probably need an explanation as to why a famous rock star is joining us for curry.

Uh-oh.

He had definitely been too quick.

He had expected that Remus had told Lily and Marlene about their night together, seeing as they shared a flat, but did Alice need to know? And her boyfriend was an unforeseen complication…. Could he trust these people? Lily and Alice seemed alright (especially Lily—it was rare meeting a girl who could put James in his place), but he wasn't so sure about Marlene. Her attempts to come on to him had been annoying, but she was also funny, and if Remus was friends with her, she couldn't be too bad, could she? But each person who knew about him increased the risk of the tabloids finding out. How many people was he willing to let in? Or could he get through the evening without revealing anything? Hardly possible—they would want to know the reason he was there. He hadn't exactly imagined an audience when he'd fantasised about seeing Remus again, but what was the alternative? He would leave for Europe soon, and three months of being as worked-up as he'd been for the past week would be some special kind of hell.

There was no other way around it. The only way forward was to just walk the plank, pinch his nose, and dive in.

[Sirius, 10:57 am] If you trust their discretion, just tell them I'm your date ;-)

[Remus, 10:59 am] Okay then, it's a date :) We start at 6.


A/N: I feel so called out in this chapter haha. The whole 'Starbucks' skit is heavily inspired by crazy world of 'Belldom' (if you know, you know) - honestly I should just dedicate this whole chapter to Muse - I got to see them live last weekend, and it was so fucking awesome! Almost caught Chris's harmonica too, but alas, the girl in front of me was quicker... sigh...

Lyric credits:
Muse - Something human
Muse - Hyper Music/Hyper Chondriac Music. I firmly believe this is how the Hyper Chondriac version came about - go listen to both if you don't already know them and tell me which one you like best!