"Good morning," Remus said, and held the teapot out. "Have time for a cup?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I don't," he said, "and I don't drink tea."

"Fair enough," and Remus sat back down at the kitchen table. Somehow, number twelve Grimmauld Place had gotten darker. Dustier. Remus amended, lonelier.

Snape rifled through his robes. "Dumbledore been through yet?"

"Last night," and Remus gestured to the cutlery drawer. "He left something for you in there. It should be the red fork." Remus held his tea cup with both hands, but didn't drink any of it; just stared at nothing. "How did it go?"

"It went," Snape answered, striding to the drawer, "as expected."

"Good," Remus said, "good." His voice was quiet - it was barely six am, and he didn't want to wake anyone - but also reflective. "That's good news."

"Lupin," Snape said, tucking something in his robes, "you're of no use to anyone like this. Sirius Black is no loss," he said smoothly.

Remus shrugged. They could have argued about it, they could have dueled. It would wake people up, and it wouldn't make anything different. Snape waited for a second, obviously for some rise of anger, but when it didn't come, Snape just made for the front door again. "Have a good day," Remus said, still quietly. Snape didn't answer.