The waitress's name tag reads 'Gertrude' which, all things considered, Sirius judges to be the worst naming job he's seen in his life. Which says a lot given his family's penchant for closing their eyes, pointing at the sky, and going with whatever their finger lands on. Sirius had been pretty certain that nothing would ever top the horror that was his late third cousin Kaffaljidhma Black, but apparently he was wrong.

Gertrude is three kinds of beautiful. The first kind is her legs which are straight and long and a pearly kind of pale. The second is her thighs which are obviously round and soft even under her skirt. The last, jumping up a bit, is her hair which, though twirled up in a conscientious waitress bun, is the kind of brown that Sirius has always admired – unpretentious brown, brown like dirt and old shoes and well-done toast. She smiles at him from two tables away and for a minute, Sirius considers smiling back if only because he is bored and lonely, and she seems like the kind of girl who would be friendly to a bored, lonely bloke on an icy London evening. They could talk, she could smile her pretty smile and when the bill came, she wouldn't expect him to ask her home or if she did, she would never admit it. It's tempting, Sirius admits to himself, but then he thinks no, no, no and reminds himself why he's here at all.

Remus Lupin is why he's here. Remus Lupin and his stupid dinner date with some stupid nut-brown, ex-Slytherin Quidditch star. On some levels, Sirius feels uncomfortable, skulking behind a large, blue-lit fish tank, peering at Remus from around its corner, and trying desperately to convince himself that stomping over there and knocking Tanned-and-Handsome's dinner into his lap is probably not the best course of action. It isn't part of the plan. But every so often, Remus will say something that makes Tanned-and-Handsome throw his head back and laugh or he'll reach out and touch Tanned-and-Handsome's hand, just above the knuckles, in a way that seems so casual but speaks of an intimacy that Sirius cannot fathom, and Sirius will have to grip the table in front of him to keep from leaping out of his chair. He wants to shout no, no, no Remus, don't do anything stupid, don't get hurt, but that isn't the plan either. He wonders, vaguely, if Gertrude would bring him some rope and tie him to his chair if he asked her politely, or whether she'd just think that was weird.

Three courses (desert, coffee, and another coffee) later, Remus leans forward across the table and whispers something to Tanned-and-Handsome. Sirius finds himself leaning forward as well, straining to make out the words across the noisy restaurant. Of course, he hears nothing and is left to fill in the details as Tanned-and-Handsome nods, flashes a white smile, and pulls out his wallet to pay the bill. It is agonising to watch as they pull on their coats, as they head to the door, as Tanned-and-Handsome's hand touches the grey fabric of Remus's coat, just at the small of the back, as they duck out into the sleet and snow and slippery streets. Sirius's first impulse is to run after them, grab Tanned-and-Handsome, and shake him. I bought him that coat, he would yell, I take care of him. He doesn't want you and Merlin knows, he certainly doesn't need you. But he manages to pay his bill calmly, leaving Gertrude a nice tip even if her service was sort of lousy, and head for the door without breaking into a run.

Outside, he can barely keep his balance with the wind and ice. Remus and Tanned-and-Handsome are two streets ahead, black blocky outlines against the sky. Sirius trails them, trying to keep a cool head which is deceptively heard even though his ears are freezing. They turn down one street and then another, following the familiar path to Remus's loft, which Sirius could (and has) walked blind drunk.

Sirius doesn't catch up until they're on the steps of Remus's apartment. Tanned-and-Handsome waits at the bottom of the steps while Remus fiddles with his keys.

"I don't usually do this," Remus is saying when Sirius gets close enough to make out words. His voice is soft and embarrassed, and he tilts his head down so that hair falls in front of his eyes and hides them from sight.

Tanned-and-Handsome ducks his head and says something inaudible. Must have been inaudible to Remus as well because he turns, stops sorting through the keys of apartments past, and says "Pardon?"

Sirius can't wait any longer, plan or no plan. He sprints across the street (narrowly avoiding a collision with a car) and manages to end up right behind Tanned-and-Handsome just as he clears his throats and says, "I'm very sorry, Remus. This is a trap."

Tanned-and-Handsome-and-also-Evil's hand shoots inside his jacket, and Sirius, moving quickly, manages to grab the hand and twist it up behind his back in one motion. Tanned-and-Handsome makes a little ack noise in his throat as his wand (elm, six inches) clatters on the sidewalk and skids on the ice.

Sirius grins into Tanned-and-Handsome's ear. "Too fucking right this is a trap," he says and then, "All right, Remus?"

"Fine," answers Remus, coming down the steps with his wand levelled at Tanned-and-Handsome, whose real name happens to be Damian Cavendish (currently wanted for a number of explosion that injured at least a dozen muggles out in Lancashire a week ago). "What happened to the plan?"

"Fuck the plan," says Sirius brightly, jerking Cavendish's arm up higher and making him squeal.

Remus rolls his eyes heavenward and sighs. "I have terrible taste in men."