#wolfstarbucks

Not anymore, you tell yourself sternly on your way down to the bus. You’re here to do a job. You’re here for yourself. There’s a wall between you and the band by the very nature of your role here, and your role is to make that wall appear transparent, not evaporate it. You won’t let yourself get so close again. 

Closeness has only given you less to write about. 

You return Lily’s polite nod as you step onboard the bus. Sirius is giving you some kind of look, but you pretend not to notice it poking at your periphery. You ignore too James’ patting of the extra space on his bench, passing the boys by to sit instead in an empty seat a few rows behind them. Close enough to overhear; not close enough to engage. As you should have been this whole while.

“Have a lie in this morning?” Remus asks you anyway.

“Yeah,” you reply. 

James turns fully around to speak to you, folding his arms atop of his seat. “I hope you’ve rested up,” he says. “Tomorrow, we’re going to Cadbury World.” 

“Oh.” It takes a second, but you find the right smile. Pleasant and distantly apologetic. “You all have fun, but I think I’m going to stay back. I have to edit this article for Tuesday.” 

James looks put out. You pull out your notepad before you can linger on it. 

“What’s the article about?” asks Remus. It may only be your own new wariness, but you think you detect a hint of vigilance in his tone.

You glance at Sirius on instinct to see if he’s eyeing you with the same distrust. His dark-rimmed stare is heavy, but it’s not…it’s not what you expect. There’s no accusation there. Sirius seems watchful, but not like he’s anticipating something in particular. Like he’s waiting to see what you do next.

You wonder if he thinks you’re angry with him. You’re not. You don’t blame him for thinking you’d sell James out for a story; Sirius is used to dealing with real journalists. He’s learnt to be calculating, to put himself as a shield between people like you and anything—or anyone—he wants to protect. To anticipate the worst you could do so he knows when to be ready. If you were half the journalist Spellbound thinks you are, you would have done it.

You just aren’t sure if you are that journalist. You aren’t sure if you want to be. 

“It’s something I was working on before I got here,” you say to mollify Remus. 

“Are you feeling alright?” asks Sirius. 

You feel your brows draw in tight, forgetting for a moment to control your expression. “I feel fine, why?” 

He shrugs. “You seem rather tired all of a sudden.” 

You put your pleasant smile back on. Sirius frowns. “I guess all this staying up from dusk to dawn is finally getting to me.” 

“Ah, yeah.” James sets his chin on his forearms, his eyes big with sympathy. “I crashed earlier in the tour, too. I think it’s a sort of hurdle you have to get over. Sorry.” 

“We can tuck you in with Remus tonight,” says Sirius lightly. A pink blush blooms over Remus’ cheeks. “He’s got all sorts of methods for getting a good sleep. We’ll have you fully nocturnal in no time, babe.” 

You direct your stare toward your notepad, trying to focus enough to make sense of the first sentence of the article you’re meant to be editing. “I’m not sure that will work out very well for when I eventually have to be awake during the day again.” 

“Why would you ever do that?” Sirius jokes. 

You’re tempted to look up and raise an eyebrow at him; you don’t. “Once I have what I need for the feature, I’m guessing Spellbound will want me working normal business hours.” 

There’s a pause. 

“Well,” says Sirius, “I don’t know why you’d ever work for them, in that case. They sound unhinged.” 

You try not to feel anything about the obviousness of James’ upset when he asks, “Are you nearly done with the feature already?” 

It’s almost laughable. As if they’ve given you near enough information to write the feature; you hardly have enough for a few paragraphs. But, it is like James to be optimistic. “Not quite.” 

Sirius tsks. “Guess we’re not going to be rid of you very soon, then.” 

You keep your expression neutral as you look up at him. “I’ll do my best to work efficiently.” 

Dark brows descend over stormcloud eyes. “Sure you’re not feeling ill?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You should come to Cadbury World with us,” says James, looking worried now, too. “You seem like you could maybe use a break.” 

The useless mush of your heart softens instinctively at the earnestness in his voice. “Thanks,” you say, “but I think I ought to stay on task. We all want me to finish up and get out of your hair, right?” 

Remus makes a soft sound. “No one’s said that.” 

“Maybe we can do an interview after the show?” you go on. “If you’re ready, I can ask some more questions about the album. I know it’s not completely done yet, but the point of me being here is to get accounts of the process.” 

“I thought we agreed you’d be taking us to dinner first,” Sirius hums, in that teasing way of his. 

You don’t rise to the bait. “If you’d like to have the interview at a restaurant, that can be arranged.” You have no clue how you’ll finance it, but that can be a problem for later (and possibly for Spellbound). 

It’s not just Sirius who frowns at you now; all three of the boys look at you like you’ve boarded the bus with serpents for hair. 

“O…kay,” says Sirius. “We’ll see.” 

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