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November 3, 1986
12 Grimmauld Place, London, England
Sirius Black POV
Sirius Black was having a very nice birthday, thank you very much. In fact, he was having such a properly lovely day that he was sitting, locked out of his house by his own Wards, on his front porch.
Was there firewhiskey in his tea, which he’d summoned through the window, despite it being two in the afternoon? Yes, there was.
Was it justified? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Yes, Sirius Black’s birthday had been just simply grand. No complaints.
Well, now that he thought about it, there was the small issue of the ice-cold water that jetted out of the showerhead straight into his face ten minutes after he woke up in the morning. There he was, looking for a soothing warm shower to start off his special day right, and instead he got waterboarded by glacial fucking iceberg melt straight up both nostrils.
Yeah, that had been unpleasant, but on its own it wasn’t so bad.
I mean, now that he was really considering the tiny, minute struggles of his day, there was that small hiccup where he fell down the stairs. A small tumble, that was all.
Oh, but it wasn’t just down the stairs, actually. In fact, he toppled straight THROUGH the rotted wood on that stair that they always avoided when walking around. For some reason, his clumsy, frazzled brain had forgotten to skip the stair. Foolish of him. In retrospect, it was probably because he had been sopping wet, wrapped in just his towel, freezing, and in desperate need of caffeine.
So yes, his raging bad mood only got worse as he trailed splinters and wood chunks down the freshly cleaned hall rug, leaving wet footprints across the kitchen floor.
He swore like a sailor the whole way there, burned himself just a bit (a miniscule blister) on his pinky finger touching a hot kettle, and cursed even more in the aftermath. He found his favorite jumper sitting on a chair and promptly discovered a massive hole in the chest, showing off the butt end of his wolf tattoo. How ideal. Tremendous. Optimal, really!
Oh, and then he slipped. No problem, of course, just a little spill.
But it wasn’t just a little spill, was it, now?
Yeah, so he slipped on his own wet footprints tracked along the nice kitchen tile, toppled over, and slammed face-first into the kitchen island. Bashed his beautiful, sculptural chin into the kitchen counter. Split his lip. No biggie.
Well, that said, the ‘no biggie’ split lip turned out to require some proper Healing, seeing as he was bleeding quite profusely. How he’d managed to injure himself so extensively was anyone’s guess, really.
In normal circumstances, he’d call his husband down the stairs and have him patch it up so that they didn’t have to bother with official Healers. Conveniently, though, said husband was nowhere to be fucking found. He ran throughout the house, gushing blood and slipping on the wood and the water and leaving a trail of wreckage behind him as he hobbled around, calling for those other people that lived with him, right?
That random kid, and that roommate guy, oh yeah! Those two, remember them? Yeah, the ones who promised him a bubble bath, balloons, breakfast in bed! Where the fuck was his hot water, his decorations, and his morning coffee?
But no, no- it was a great birthday, all in all.
Yeah, the part where he had to apparate half-naked to St. Mungo’s alone at 7am on the day where he was supposed to be celebrated, it was swell. And all because he was bleeding out of his face? Definitely, that was really fun.
The best part was when he had to wait an hour and a half in line with the most appalling head of half-soaked, wrecked bed-head for someone to tend to his poor face. Though it was in contest with when the administration witch couldn’t understand his description of injury through his swollen face and sent him up to the gynecology unit by mistake. Or maybe the highlight was when the doctors didn’t know where to classify his injury by the standards of “Magical Maladies” and had a screaming match about his symptoms.
It got to the point that Sirius, furious, fed up, and still decaffeinated, had his roommate (a lovely woman by the name of Bernice with a strange illness causing her to sing bubbles and randomly jump on one foot) give him a few sutures. She was kind- sang him ‘Happy Birthday’ in bubble form- and promised to keep in touch.
He marched out of the hospital with his normally immaculate jawline bruised and puffy, sewn up by the singular person in his entire life who had wished him a happy birthday.
That to say, it was a fine day. Fine and good and alright. He’d been too tired to apparate so had hopped on the Knight Bus to catch a few more winks of rest before he had to hit the ground running and make his day cheerful and bright for the lively five year old he had to manage.
Ah, of course, the rest had not been restful, and in fact he’d been walloped over the head by a batty old woman named Mrs. Nesbitt whose handbag smelled strongly of garlic and cabbage, and who projectile vomited on his new shoes.
Not to mention the obnoxious cadillac playing music so loud that it rattled Sirius’s battered jawbone in his skull while it passed by, slowing down only enough to drench him with a dirty puddle of sludgy muck. Double dipped in freezing water, he slowly turned to face the gates of Grimmauld Place, the last place on Earth he wanted to be.
He walked up his porch stairs, dragging his vomit-stained shoes with the puddle-soaked soles and the trail of blood on his ripped sweater, his hair a tangled disaster. “Some bloody birthday this has been.” He muttered to himself, reaching for the doorknob.
And so that was how, disheartened, disheveled, and demoralized, Sirius had climbed the stairs to his stoop before it all went to shit. He was looking forward to a proper shower, clean clothes, and a nap before lunchtime.
Oh, but of course his Wards sent him bouncing away, flat onto his arse, and now he was drinking summoned tea , laced with some handy firewhiskey from a flask he kept stashed under the porch. That's how he ended up here, on his porch, trying and failing to see his entirely lamentable day in a good light. He couldn't find a silver lining that wasn't sarcastic.
All he wanted was some peace and quiet, a nice long nap, and a soothing hot shower. Was that too much for a man to ask for?
Apparently so, of course, because Remus Lupin (with whom Sirius was not currently pleased) chose that bloody moment to arrive, all stops exhausted, full-speed, full-volume, maximum enthusiasm with the REAL birthday party.
The door flew open just then, with a tremendous shout of, "THERE YOU ARE!" and the whole house exploded in front of Sirius's slumped figure.
Kazoos, screams of ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ and ‘SURPRISE’ and cheering could be heard. The giddy shouting and clamoring slammed him in the face so bluntly that he had flashbacks to the Antarctic Showerhead Waterboarding IncidentTM and almost passed out. Stumbling backwards, he blinked a few times.
There were the Lovegoods, the Weasleys, Augusta and Neville Longbottom. Kingsley and Cadence Shacklebolt. Cartley, from the shop. Amelia Bones with her niece, Susan. Ted, Andromeda, and Nymphadora Tonks.
Even Sirius’s best friend, the beautiful Mary MacDonald, had made an appearance, whisked back to London from wherever American destination she had been flirting with fun and the sun. God, even Minerva McGonagall was there, smiling wryly over at him.
Remus stood right by the door, a bouncy Harry balanced on his hip. “Surprise!” He said, throwing the door open wider.
As if detached from his body and this moment, Sirius stared into his house, crammed full of his closest friends and family, and draped in streams, confetti, and balloons. The picture of love and community. The very kind of party he had always loved to have. He should have felt happy, but instead he just felt sick. Sick and disgusting and exhausted.
Remus’s face fell as he saw him for real for the first time. He looked at him in horror, and set Harry down on the ground. Mary scooped him up without question, holding him close and backing up from Remus and Sirius to give them a bit of privacy. “Oh my God. Your face.” He hissed, hands reaching up to cradle Sirius’s jaw. “What happened? Where were you? Are you okay?”
Gasps rang through the front hall as their dozen guests focused all of their eyes on the man of the hour himself, Sirius Orion Black, in a state of total disarray. Humiliated, Sirius cast his eyes down at the porch, face burning, looking, smelling, and feeling disgusting. “It’s a long story.” He croaked. “Er, hi everyone. Can I- can I go upstairs?” He said weakly, voice cracking.
“Of course.” Remus said immediately, eyes wide with concern. Remus grabbed him by the arm and steered him in, tugging him through the crowd. Thankfully, their loved ones were respectful, and backed up without being asked, shepherding the kids into the kitchen or living room and giving Sirius space to hobble up the stairs without too much judgement.
Harry broke out of Mary’s grasp to run up the stairs after them, and Mary chased after him, holding him back. “Padfoot!” Harry cried. “Are you hurt?”
“Harry-” Mary began, trying to tug him back down the stairs, concern and fear etched into her features.
“It’s okay, Mary.” Sirius rasped, sitting down on the step to look at Harry. “I’m alright. You don’t want to hug me right now because I’m pretty icky. But after I have a shower, I’ll come see you, okay? Padfoot’s okay, alright? I’m okay. Promise.”
“I don’t wanna go down without you.” Harry said, holding onto Mary’s hand but reaching for Remus and Sirius, trying to cling to them.
Remus reached down and scooped him up. “C’mere, Haz. Auntie Mary will come, too, and you can sit outside the bathroom and play with your toys while Padfoot and I get cleaned up, okay?” Harry nodded into Remus’s shirt, sucking his thumb and resting his chin on Remus’s shoulder. With a sigh, they all headed upstairs.
Once safely secured behind the bathroom door with Remus, Sirius slumped over the bathroom sink and took several shuddering breaths. Then he whipped up and rounded on Remus. “Muffliato.” He snapped, flicking his wand at the door, and then threw up his hands. “Where the fuck were you?”
Remus rubbed the back of his head, ashamed. “We thought a surprise party would be nice.” He said sheepishly.
Sirius growled in frustration, pulling off his shirt and starting the shower, hissing when the fabric caught on the bandages over his chin. “Well, I’m really fucking glad that was nice then. Must have been a really swell morning. Meanwhile, I bashed my face off of the bloody counter and had to go to St. Mungo’s, and somewhere between falling through the rotted stair- thanks for fixing that, by the way- and slipping on the glacial bathwater, I ended up on the Knight Bus, and as I was bleeding out on the floor of the Mungo’s waiting room, you were nowhere to be found!”
He took a deep breath, and climbed into the shower, continuing to rant from behind the curtain. “It’s been an awful day. Everything went wrong." He tipped his forehead forwards to rest on the cool tile. Thank Merlin the water was warm at the very least. "Everything." He said pitifully.
Remus was silent for a long while, and then he tapped on the wall outside the bathtub. Sirius sighed. "What?"
Remus poked his head in. He looked very guilty. His eyes were wide and sad. "Padfoot."
Sirius turned away. "I'm not letting you sway me. I'm sad and angry and grumpy and it's MY BIRTHDAY." He sounded like a toddler even to himself. He winced.
"Sirius..."
"Remus, the puppy-dog eyes are my thing." Merlin, he felt pathetic.
"I'm sorry." Remus whispered softly.
"Glad to hear it."
"I'm sorry, Sirius." He said, heartfelt and honest, reaching into the bath to hold Sirius's wet hand. "I should have been there. I wanted to surprise you, I thought you would want a party, and I didn't think through that you'd be home alone on your birthday morning and you shouldn't have been, that was wrong, and I'm sorry-"
Sirius shot out his other hand and covered Remus's mouth. "Shut up." He turned off the tap and stepped out of the bath, wrapping his towel around his waist and turning to face Remus. "I forgive you." He said with a long-suffering sigh. "It was a mess, but it'll be a funny story to reminisce about in five years. Come on, let's get Harry before he has a meltdown about my scraped up face. And entertain the guests. They're about as patient as a pack of golden retrievers."
Remus laughed, and leaned in to kiss Sirius's cheek. "I love you. Happy birthday, darling."
Sirius rolled his eyes, and hid a smile. "Yeah, yeah. I deserve three cakes for what I put up with today. But I'll let it slide." He leaned in and kissed Remus back. "Oh, and by the way, I love you too."