Chapter Text
He was the last person on the bus.
The dim inner lights flickered as they lurched to a stop, the squeal of the breaks cutting through the silence.
Sirius pushed his hair out of his face and lugged his suitcase down the long aisle of seats. The round, graying man sitting in the driver's seat watched him through the rearview mirror. His beady little eyes followed his every movement.
Sirius jutted his chin out, and willed the driver to look at him again, to see the blooming purple along his jaw.
His cheek throbbed. The slap hadn’t bruised yet, but the red handprint still lingered. Sirius saw it in his reflection while looking out the window.
That afternoon, Walburga had received a notice from the school. Part of the punishment for he and James’ elaborate senior prank was not allowing them to walk in graduation. Thankfully, they still got their diplomas.
Still, she had been furious at Sirius, and took her anger out on him in a blind rage.
With both feet on the concrete, the bus doors screeched shut.
It was eerily quiet. The only sources of light were the yellowing street lights along the road and the occasional sparks from lightning bugs.
The closest stop to his uncle’s place was still a ways away. Sirius would need to walk.
He felt a little guilty about calling Alphard in the middle of the night, but he had no other place to go. James and his family left yesterday for vacation. His parents hardly reacted when they’d been told about graduation. They were disappointed, to say the least, but they had grown used to the boys’ antics.
Alphard was cast out of the family years ago, when Sirius was a preteen. Though, they had tried to maintain contact through birthday cards and Christmas presents.
He knew Alphard lived a few towns over, and so he rang him using a payphone and some stray pocket change.
Sirius started down the road, not entirely positive that the direction he was heading in was the right one. Using what sparse memory he had of visiting as a child, and a glance at the bus stop’s map, he trudged on.
He could feel the sting of shame in his chest still. This wasn’t how he envisioned finishing high school.
It took some time, but eventually the road shoulder became a sidewalk, and there were enough landmarks that he recognized where he was at. Shop signs lit up the street ahead of him, and parked cars lined the edges of the road.
Sirius huffed and wiped sweat from his brow as he hauled himself and his peeling leather suitcase up the front stoop of Black Sheep Pizza , a “Closed” sign hanging in the door. The early summer weather hit the area like a truck, and the hot air was humid enough to hydrate you.
Sirius knocked firmly three times, and waited.
Through the clear glass of the door he watched as a light flicked on and a figure opened it.
Alphard Black, with his thinning hair and comical moustache, greeted him on his front steps.
“Sirius,” He said, “Oh, please, come in.” He stepped out of the way to allow him in. He took Sirius’ bag without asking, like it was nothing at all.
The room was large and decorated cozily, with clothed tables and plush chairs around a fireplace, with a plush rug on the floor. There were abstract artworks hung up on the wood panelled walls. Sirius savored the wave of air conditioning that washed over him.
It was as if the place had lived a hundred different lives, as if it had soaked in all of the memories made there.
“God,” His uncle breathed, drawing Sirius’ attention back towards him. “She really did a number on you.” He said, motioning to his own face.
Sirius brought his hand up and touched his puffy face. “Walburga’s a bitch.” He said sourly. It was a bit embarrassing, having to ask for help. Sirius felt like a child.
Alphard wrapped his dressing gown tighter around himself. “Well then, we can always talk about this later. For now though, we need to get you settled. It's late.” He led Sirius through a narrow hall and up a staircase.
The faint music that Sirius heard downstairs grew louder as they stepped into the space. The loft built above the pizzeria was small but inviting. It smelled of dust and the old floorboards wailed with every step.
“Sorry about the mess,” Alphard said. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors at this hour.” He grinned.
He gestured to the loveseat. “Hope you’re alright sleeping there. I don’t have a spare room to make up for you.”
Sirius shucked off his shoes and waved him away. It was fine. It was better than the street, anyways.
He sat on the worn-out couch and sighed. The day felt months long, and his body ached.
“Could I please get some water?”
“Of course.” Alphard opened a cupboard in the small kitchenette. “You hungry? I’ve got some leftover Chinese food from earlier.”
Sirius declined and took the glass from his uncle, drinking it down. The record on the turntable in front of them crackled as the last song played out. Alphard padded over in his slippers and flipped it to the B-side.
Sirius cleared his throat. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
“No trouble,” Alphard smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re family, even if my sister won’t admit it.” He sunk into the cushion beside Sirius and ran a hand across his chin.
Sirius snorted. “Well that’s one way to put it.”
“You know, I always figured you’d show up here. Or maybe Andromeda. Or both.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just me this time.” Sirius shrugged.
His uncle knocked shoulders with him and chuckled. “It’s practically a rite of passage at this point, getting kicked out.” A grin crept onto Sirius’ face.
Alphard pushed himself up from the couch and crossed his arms. “I think I'm going to head off to bed now. Feel free to help yourself to whatever. Bathroom’s just around the corner, first door to the left.”
It was getting late, and Sirius himself was getting tired too.
“And, hey,” Alphard stopped in the doorway and turned around to look back at Sirius. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. Don’t worry about it.”
Sirius looked up, surprised. “You want me to stay?”
“I want you to have a choice,” Alphard said simply. “That’s more than our family ever gave us.”
Sirius didn’t say anything for a long moment. His throat felt tight.
“I think,” he started, looking down at his hands. “I think I’d like that.”
»——————⋆◦★◦⋆——————«
Sirius rolled over and pulled his lumpy pillow over his ears. It didn’t do much to drown out the horrific noise in the restaurant.
He groaned and pulled himself up off the sofa. He tripped almost immediately and barely caught himself. The blankets had slipped off sometime in the night and laid in a mound on the floor.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He winced as another round of clanging started up. It was almost like it was deliberate.
He grabbed some clothes from his empty suitcase on the floor and headed off to the bathroom.
A minute later, freshly dressed and hair somewhat tamed, he went downstairs, the smell of coffee leading him like a siren’s song.
Alphard sat at one of the tables in the dining area, holding a steaming mug in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He had a pair of readers perched precariously on his crooked nose.
“You’re up,” He said without looking up.
“Barely,” Sirius mumbled. “Does this place always sound like a warzone at ten in the morning?”
Alphard hummed and pushed another mug towards him. “Welcome to restaurant life. Get used to it.”
Sirius took the coffee from him and lifted it to his mouth. He took a cautious sip and nearly choked.
“What is this? Jet fuel?” He sputtered.
“It’s just some dark roast. Builds character.”
Sirius wrinkled his nose at him.
“Say,” Alphard began, flicking a page in his paper. “How do you feel about helping out in the kitchen today? We could always do with some help and it would keep you busy.”
Sirius was hesitant. “Oh, I don’t know…”
He didn’t know the first thing about cooking. There was no need to learn, with their family's staff doing all the work.
The only experience in a kitchen he had was the time he and James attempted to make a cake for Mrs. Potter’s birthday. “Attempted”, because the cake never did turn out. The only thing they achieved was a mess and a lecture from Euphemia.
“Don’t worry, kid. You’ll do fine.” Alphard smiled into his coffee cup as he sipped. “Besides, you’ll have a good teacher.”
“Teacher?”
At that moment, there was a crash from the kitchen and a steady stream of cursing. Sirius looked up just in time to watch a boy around his age stumble out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his half-apron.
“Remus! Perfect timing!” Alphard cheered. He clapped a hand on Sirius’ shoulder.
The boy, Remus, looked up like he just noticed there was another person in the room. He was tall, but all jutting elbows and long legs, like someone who hadn’t quite grown into himself. His brown hair was a bit overgrown and uneven, like he cut it himself with kitchen scissors. There was a smear of flour across his cheekbone, like he wiped his hair out of his face with dirty hands.
And he was scowling. Not at Sirius, not at anyone in particular-- just like that was his face’s default.
Sirius blinked. He’d expected some cheerful, round-cheeked cook with a potbelly and a jolly laugh. But, what he got was this, some teenager who looked like he fed on that god-awful coffee and spite.
Remus crossed his arms and stared at Sirius for a long moment. His eyes were dark and tired-- watchful, unimpressed.
“Sirius, meet Remus Lupin, he’s been working here for years and he sort of runs the kitchen.” Alphard introduced him. “Remus, this is my nephew, Sirius Black, the one on the phone last night? You can show him the ropes.”
Sirius straightened automatically, feeling suddenly like this was one of his father’s important dinner parties and they were showing him off to their friends. Their perfect first born son, because god forbid their pals know how misbehaved he was at home and at school.
“Right,” Remus said, sighing through his nose. He looked at Sirius like he was a disappointing sack of potatoes. “Can you unclog a sink?”
Sirius opened his mouth. Closed it again.
Remus turned on his heel, not waiting for an answer. “C’mon then, grab an apron.”
Alphard turned to him expectantly.
“Am I supposed to work with him ?” Sirius asked, baffled. The guy seemed rather entitled, and likely had no patience to teach Sirius anything.
Alphard patted his back. “He’s about your age, just graduated as well. You two will get along perfectly.” He paused. “You’re more alike than you realize.” He added, after seeing Sirius’ expression.
Sirius huffed and drank the rest of his coffee.
»——————⋆◦★◦⋆——————«
The kitchen was brighter than Sirius expected, all fluorescent lights and stainless steel surfaces. It was warm too-- enough to make you sweat.
He trailed after Remus, who moved like the kitchen belonged to him. Not in the loud, arrogant sort of way, but like he’d memorized the steps a long time ago and never needed to think about them again. Like he spent more time there than he did anywhere else.
Remus grabbed a rag off a rack on a cabinet and tossed it to Sirius without looking.
“Sink’s back there,” Remus said. “I assume you know how to use a plunger?”
Sirius raised an eyebrow at him while he pulled his hair into a loose knot at the base of his neck. “I went to private school, not the moon.”
“Great. Then this should be easy.” Remus motioned to the clogged industrial sink, the murky water gurgled like a challenge.
Sirius stared at the sink. “You want me to touch that?”
“No,” Remus said dryly. “I want you to stare at it until the drain unblocks itself out of pity,”
Sirius bit back a retort. Instead, he pushed his sleeves up further and got to work, trying not to cry as his hand plunged into the lukewarm horror.
After a minute or two of fishing around, his hand brushed against something chunky and as he pulled it out, the sink made a grotesque sucking sound. Sirius groaned and wiped his forehead on his shoulder.
“Congrats,” Remus said, watching him from the counter. “You just completed your first task.”
“Thrilling,” Sirius deadpanned, still holding his dripping wet arms away from his body. “Can I cook now? Or do you want me to polish the grout with a toothbrush first?”
Remus didn’t smile. “You want to cook? You start here.” He nodded toward a stack of crusty pans and a mountain of dishes. “Everyone does.”
Sirius stared at them. “You’re joking.”
“Does it look like I'm joking? We’re out of spatulas.”
“It looks like you haven’t slept in days and you’re taking it out on me.”
Remus blinked once and huffed. “Gloves. Sink. Soap’s on the left.” And tossed something rubber at him.
Sirius caught the gloves and held them up. “Seriously? Gloves? Why didn’t you give these to me earlier when I was elbow deep in muck?”
Remus turned back to his cutting board. “Wouldn’t have worked, the water was too deep. But it’s okay, your hands wash.” He smirked. “Get scrubbing.”
Sirius grumbled but grabbed a sponge anyway. He wasn’t going to give this guy the satisfaction of seeing him sulk. He’d survive a few dishes. He survived Grimmauld Place.
Still, it was hard to keep his mouth shut.
“So… Do you talk to everyone like this? Or am I just special?”
Remus snorted. “You’re not special.”
Sirius grinned, despite himself. “You sure? My mother always told her friends I was unique.”
“Yeah, well, mine always said I was handsome. Some things just aren’t true.”
Sirius slowed. That… almost sounded like a joke. Sort of. He glanced over his shoulder, but Remus was already back to chopping onions with laser focus.
Still, the air in the room lightened a bit.
Sirius looked back to the sink. The water was steaming now, the rhythm of scrubbing weirdly calming. He needed Remus to take him seriously. Wanted to prove he could do this.
By the time Remus dropped the next dish off next to the sink, Sirius was scrubbing like he meant it.
»——————⋆◦★◦⋆——————«
Remus didn’t look up from his work when the door slammed open at around noon.
“You’re late,” He said flatly.
“Not late,” came a voice like birdsong. “We just run on different frequencies.”
Sirius turned, catching sight of a girl striding in like she owned the place. Sunglasses holding her curly hair back, helmet tucked under one arm, combat boots scuffed to hell. She had the kind of energy that made you want to take a step back-- not out of fear, exactly, but to avoid getting caught in her wake.
She plucked a note from the corkboard and skimmed it. “Two larges on the corner of Pine and Thomas?”
Remus nodded to the right of him, hands still covered in dough. “Should be boxed on those tables already. Still hot, too. Try to keep ‘em that way.”
She clicked her tongue and saluted with two fingers. “Anything for you, Moony.”
Sirius looked back and forth between the two. “Moony?”
The girl whipped her head around and did a double-take. “Oh, hello there. You’re new.”
“He’s Sirius,” Remus said without looking up. “Sink duty.”
“Well, you don’t look very serious to me,” She said while sizing him up. “D’you ride?”
“Um,” Was all Sirius could get out before she linked arms with him, leading him away from his station.
As he shucked his filthy gloves off, he stumbled slightly. She walked quickly.
“Here,” She said, handing him the helmet. “Hold this. And take that apron off.”
“Wait, what?”
“You’re coming with me! Come on, let’s go!” She grabbed the two pizza boxes, bracing them on her hip.
“But I- hang on, who even are you?” Sirius said desperately, but she was already gone, through the hallway that led to the rest of the restaurant.
“Mary Macdonald.” Remus said calmly. He tossed the dough he was working earlier above his head. “She does delivery”
Sirius looked helplessly at Remus, who offered no help at all, and then down at the helmet in his hands.
He followed her through the front, where Mary paused long enough to steal a mint from the counter.
“Hey!” Shouted a pretty girl with bright red hair and a sling on her arm. She swatted at Mary with her good hand. “Get your own!”
Mary ignored her, but waved. She pushed the door open with her back and let Sirius out first, who was still holding the helmet like a ticking time bomb.
The heat outside hit him like a wall, but it was nothing compared to the sight of the motorcycle waiting at the curb. Red, low to the ground and glistening in the light.
“Figured you needed a break.” She shrugged, loading the pizza into an insulated bag that was strapped to the back of the bike. “You looked two mixing bowls away from drowning.”
That’s yours?” He asked, horrified. He had never ridden one before, the thought of speeding into traffic on a hunk of metal, without anything protecting him was frightening.
“Sure is, " Mary said, straddling the seat. “Get on, city boy.”
“I’m not from the city.” He complained, though he shoved the helmet on and got on behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her midsection.
“Alright, Serious.”
Before he could correct her, Mary revved the engine. He squeezed tighter. The metal was hot against his legs and the street stretched out like a dare.
The bike roared to life beneath them, and Sirius’ world quickly narrowed to a blur. Mary took corners like they insulted her personally, weaving through traffic with a recklessness that made his heart drop and his stomach clench.
He couldn’t hear himself think. Every instinct screamed that this was a bad idea.
But about halfway through the ride-- somewhere between Mary cutting through an alley and hopping a curb like it was nothing-- Sirius realized he was laughing.
Not a nervous laugh, but a full-bellied, uncontrolled, giddy thing that burst out of him.
Mary whooped in response, and for the next few blocks, they were just two streaks of noise and motion hurtling through the town.
When they finally pulled up to the delivery address-- a squat little town house with too many plants in the windows-- Sirius climbed off the bike on shaky legs, grinning like a lunatic.
Mary handed off the pizza, and came back with a fistful of cash. “So?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
He tried to play it cool. “That was… alright.”
She laughed. “You were screaming like it was a rollercoaster.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were. Wanna go again?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, of course.”
Mary swung a leg over the motorcycle and looked back at him, smirking. “Knew it. You’re addicted.”
And Sirius, still buzzing from the thrill and the way the wind had pulled every thought clean out of his head, knew she was right.