Chapter Text
Now, Remus had no objection to magic in principle.
He appreciated anything, really, that could deep clean the steam wands in a second, or cool too-hot coffees to the perfect temperature in a jiffy.
These sorts of magic were the type that made Remus’ life easier and less stressful; therefore, he welcomed it with open arms.
The magic Remus was not so fond of were the intrusive kinds. It goes without saying the whole werewolf thing was pretty bloody annoying. That was about as intrusive the word goes.
So were the kinds of magic that, say, made the radio abruptly stop playing pleasant jazz and begin blasting the Sex Pistols’ “Anarchy in the UK”. Remus did privately find this prank funny, however the elderly patrons who witnessed the ordeal decidedly did not share this sentiment. Or the kinds that made the door loudly insult anyone who entered (“Oi, you with messy hair! You a lass or summat’?”. Remus hadn’t worn a cardigan to work since). Or the kinds that made a bell ring exactly 10 seconds after a customer enters.
When Remus had stood behind the counter at Butterbrew Corner for the very first time, wiping down the espresso machine so he wouldn’t just fidget, he made the very grave mistake of relying on the bell to tell him someone had entered. Lily had tragically gone on break a few minutes ago, and was absent to warn him of the cafe’s signature quirk. Perhaps some fault did lay on Remus for failing to hear the pointed throat-clears and loud bag shuffling, but the boy was too preoccupied with not messing up his first job that he was, rather counter-productively, half in another world.
So poor, 12 year old Remus had quickly turned around with his practised, awkward smile to welcome the entering customer, his training replaying in his head:
‘Hiya, welcome to the Butterbrew Corner, what can I–’
‘WELL ITS ABOUT BLOODY TIME!’
The man stood with crossed arms and furrowed brows, and had very obviously not been waiting a mere few seconds. The man proceeded to give Remus an earful, beginning with a lengthy description of his position at the Ministry of Magic and his importance and value to society, and ending with something about the lack of good customer service nowadays and the carelessness of today’s youth. The man then left with a muttered, ‘too late now,’ leaving shocked, helpless Remus half convinced that in addition to his list of maladies, he was now deaf.
After frantically accosting Lily in the break room about his ears and fitness to work, being met only with bouts of laughter and wheezes, Remus was finally brought into the light about the most significant quirk the cafe displayed.
“I think it was some Hogwarts students, bored on their weekend with nothing better to do,” Lily had explained.
“Some strong bloody kids they were. We ended up calling an Auror to get it off but even he couldn’t sort it out,” Larry had grunted from next to her.
So ever since the trauma of that first day, Remus had to constantly be aware of the door opening and closing, and footsteps trudging in, rather than simply listening for the bell like any other normal barista would.
It made his life mildly more annoying, and that was the kind of magic Remus disliked.
Despite the bell initially throwing him every time it rang mid-way taking an order, Remus had quickly developed a sixth sense for the door. He could have his back turned, and still be able to sense that a customer was about to enter. He would turn around as the door opened, and soon was able to tune out the bell when it rang while he spoke. It became muscle memory, perhaps aided by the scarce perks being a werewolf afforded his senses.
So today, as he wiped down the espresso machine, the tingles at the back of his head went off and he threw the rag over his shoulder as he turned around to greet the entering customer.
But, his heightened senses were not needed today apparently, as the bell rang.
Thrown horribly off, Remus froze in his spot staring at the bell. What the fuck? That bell had been cursed for years, availing even an Auror’s efforts to fix, but suddenly decided to work today?
Remus was thrown so off by the bell actually working that he forgot what the bell signified until his gaze drifted down to the figure in front of him.
“Sorry, is something wrong?”
Remus finally processed the boy standing in front of him–
Blimey.
The boy was shorter than Remus– by a few inches or so– forcing him to look down. Further down his eyes travelled, as he noted the fullest part of his bottom lip was encircled by a silver ring. The upper curve of his ears were too, although dark, black waves just touching the boys shoulders mostly hid them.
Remus’ hazel eyes flashed back to the boy’s gray ones and remembered who he was and what he was supposed to be doing.
“Oh, fuck sorry– um, the bell rang,” he offered a lot less confidently than he would have liked.
The boy raised an eyebrow. “Have I bothered you on a slow day?”
Get your shit together mate.
“Ah, no, you’re good. The bell has– had?– a hex which makes it ring 10 seconds after someone’s walked in, but it, er– seems to be working today.” The boy raised both eyebrows now in understanding, a smile pushing up the corners of his mouth, and Remus absolutely did not notice the way his chiselled cheeks fullened slightly at the movement.
Something about this kid was putting him on edge, and Remus wasn’t sure he wanted to know why. He felt almost how he did before a full moon: jumpy, disoriented, dizzy– was he being hexed? Who the actual fuck was this boy?
“I see,” the boy said. “That must be a pretty annoying hex to have on a cafe door.”
Remus snorted. Finally he was beginning to relax, he hoped his face had stopped glowing red. “Yeah, tell me about it. I just about got sacked my first couple shifts for not realising someone was waiting.”
The boy laughed now too. “It’s a pretty funny hex to cast though, I’ve gotta be honest. Found out who the culprits were?”
“Nah. ‘parently it was some Hogwarts kids messing around on the weekend. Nothing better to do than make a circus of the peasants’ neighbourhood I suppose.”
The boy’s nose crinkled slightly, and he made a funny face. “Wow, didn’t realise we had made such a name for ourselves here.”
Remus paused for a second, processing who ‘we’ was in this situation, and immediately blanched. You idiot, this is a Hogwarts kid.
He raised his hands and quickly made to apologise. “Oh fuck– sorry mate, I didn’t mean it like-”. The boy across from him interrupted him with… laughter? He throws his head back and cackles– a full-chested laugh that makes Remus pause with his hands in the air.
Bloody hell, does this bloke look good. His bared teeth are white and straight, and his earrings catch the light as his head shakes. A pang of shame stabs Remus. What was wrong with him today?
“All good mate, some of us are pretty bloody stupid sometimes. Can’t blame you for thinking that,” he says while pushing his hair back out of his face
“Oh, er– yeah…” Remus offers weakly, fixated on the slender line of the boy’s now exposed jawline. Lord help him. His eyes were like magnets to Sirius' every movement. Was he drunk? High? Can you get high off of inhaling coffee?
A silence settled, and Remus once again remembered where and why this oddly hypnotising bloke was even here in the first place.
“Shit, sorry, forgot I didn’t take your order. What can I get you?” he said while clicking his pen.
“Latte please, with an extra shot.”
The order seemed fitting for the boy, Remus thought as he wrote it down. He wasn’t entirely a black coffee kind of person– the way his eyes looked when he smiled or laughed quickly disrupted any notions of that. But he didn’t seem the type to have a sweet tooth either.
“Can I get a name for the order?”
“Sirius”
Scribbling down the name onto a takeaway cup, Remus nodded and smiled at the boy. ‘Won’t be a minute’.
“Cheers.” Sirius flashed him a grin and moved to the side.
Sirius, like the star, Remus mused as he got to work. Of course the Hogwarts student would have a posh name like that.
The celesties played a larger role in Remus’ life than most people’s. The most obvious was the moon, as his condition was dictated by the bloody thing. If 7-year old Remus hadn’t strayed from his father on that walk, hadn’t gotten lost in the busy streets of Hogsmeade, hadn’t ended up in that alleyway and tripped into the hands of a hungry werewolf: perhaps Remus wouldn’t have been so forcefully acquainted with the sky and maybe he might’ve taken up an interest in astronomy of his own volition.
Fate had other plans, however, so thinking about the perhapses and the what-ifs was a pastime Remus had long forgone. He had to eventually, or it all would’ve eaten him.
He’d forced himself to make peace with who and what he was.
However, Remus wasn’t very peaceful now, as the back of his neck burned while he frothed the milk for Sirius’ latte.
Why do I feel so weird? He’s a regular customer, you serve kids your own age every day! Maybe he was still embarrassed over inadvertently calling him stuck up and rude? But Sirius hadn’t seemed to take offence to it, he seemed pretty happy about the joke actually. Weirdo.
His free hand finds the small metal cross dangling under his jumper, and he mindlessly rubs it. It makes him think of his dad. A shiver runs down his spine, and he knows its not because of Sirius this time.
Remus breathed in the smell of coffee deeply, trying to calm his nerves as he put the lid on the boy’s coffee, and turned around. “Sirius? Your coffee’s done.” His name rolled off his tongue easily, and he felt colour rise to his cheeks again. Fucking hell mate, you just said his name.
Sirius turned around, having been apparently staring out the window this whole time, and walked over. Grabbing the coffee, he flashed a quick smile at Remus and offered a hurried “thanks mate, have a good one” and left.
Someone’s in a rush?
There hadn’t been any significant connection in the brief chat they’d had, but Remus felt they’d progressed enough past the status of barista and customer to warrant a bit more than that. He almost felt… hurt?
“I need to make more friends,” Remus muttered to himself as he turned back around to clean the frother. How socially deprived does someone have to be to be offended by a customer leaving after getting their order? Maybe living alone wasn’t going as well as Remus thought it was.
Lost in contemplation, the sixth sense Remus thought he had honed for that damn bell chose this moment to fuck off, and Remus repeated the grave mistake he had made on his first day.
“ARE WE SUPPOSED TO MAKE THE BLOODY COFFEES OURSELVES THEN?”
Jumping out his pants, Remus swivelled around and looked down to face several very short, very angry old ladies.
The group of grannies knitting in the corner had chosen this moment to all get refills for their cappuccinos.
Bloody hell!
Reminding himself to take a cold shower that night to rid himself of whatever blight that dark haired boy had brought upon him, Remus put on his best customer-service smile and picked up his pen.