A tight fit.
The morning sun filtered through the narrow alleyways, casting long golden shadows as the city stirred to life. The apartment was already filled with the sounds of movement—Remus struggling with his shoelaces, James yawning loudly, Peter rubbing sleep from his eyes, and Sirius complaining about the early hour like it was a personal offense.
Severus, as usual, ignored them. He was crouched beside his old motorcycle, adjusting the chain and tightening a few bolts. The battered bike was his only means of transport in the city, and though it looked rough, it ran well enough to get him where he needed to go.
He had just wiped his hands on a rag when a familiar voice called out.
“Severus!”
He turned to see a woman approaching, her headscarf neatly wrapped, a purse over her shoulder. A small boy walked beside her, dressed in a school uniform, his backpack looking too big on his small frame. It was Hassoona.
“Severus, habibi, can you take Hassoona to school for me? We missed the bus, and I have to get to work.”
The request was so casual, so trusting, that the four British boys standing nearby froze. Sirius looked at James, who looked at Remus, who looked at Peter, all of them exchanging the same bewildered expression.
Severus, however, barely hesitated. He sighed, but there was no real irritation behind it. “Alright.”
Hassoona grinned, bouncing on his heels as Severus unshouldered the boy’s backpack and strapped it to the front of the motorcycle. He tugged at the straps to make sure it was secure before dusting off his hands.
“Wait—” James started, frowning. “That’s it?”
The woman smiled warmly at Severus. “You’re a lifesaver, ya ibn el-halal. I owe you something sweet next time.”
Severus shook his head. “Mafish lezoom.”
She laughed. “Of course, fi lezoom.” Then she turned to Hassoona. “Be good for him, alright?”
“I will!” the boy promised, already climbing onto the bike.
The woman gave Severus one last grateful nod before hurrying off.
Sirius blinked, looking between the departing woman and Severus. “Okay, what the hell was that?”
“What?” Severus asked, already adjusting the handlebars.
“She just—she just gave you her kid,” Sirius said incredulously. “To take him to school. On that thing.” He gestured to the motorcycle.
Remus crossed his arms. “I mean, she barely even hesitated. You two didn’t even discuss it.”
“Because it didn’t need discussion,” Severus said flatly.
Peter, who had been silent, looked around the street. “Uh, are we the only ones seeing this?”
And that was when they noticed it.
Every person walking by greeted Severus by name.
An old man passing with a bag of vegetables: “Sabah el-kheir, ya Doctor Severus!”
A shopkeeper wiping down his storefront: “Sabah el-ward, Severus. Back for the summer?”
A boy on a bicycle nearly colliding with a cart: “Ya Russ, don’t disappear again, ah?”
And Severus, with the same ease, greeted them all back.
“Sabah el-noor, Uncle Gamal.”
“Sabah el-fol, Am Gad.”
“I’m here, Youssef, don’t start rumors.”
The Marauders were stunned.
Severus—who at Hogwarts was a loner, a shadow, someone people barely looked at unless they were taunting him—was completely, utterly known here. And not just known, but liked. Respected, even.
James blinked. “This is so weird.”
Sirius shook his head. “No, this is wrong. People don’t like Snape. People—people don’t talk to Snape.”
“They do here,” Remus murmured, watching as yet another person walked by, calling out a greeting. Severus responded without hesitation, not even looking up as he adjusted something on the motorcycle.
“Alright,” Severus finally said, ignoring their staring. “We need to leave before traffic gets worse. Are you four getting on or not?”
James snapped out of it. “Hold on. How are we all fitting on that?”
Severus exhaled sharply through his nose, clearly restraining his patience. “It’s Cairo. We’ll manage.”
The next few minutes were a mess of shifting, grumbling, and general chaos as Severus climbed on first, steadying the bike with his feet. He pulled Hassoona up in front of him, the boy settling comfortably against the gas tank. Sirius climbed on next, muttering about Severus being too small to take up so much space, followed by Remus, then James, then Peter at the very back, clinging onto James for dear life.
“This is ridiculous,” Sirius grumbled.
“This is efficient,” Severus corrected, testing the throttle.
James let out a breathless laugh. “We look like a traveling circus.”
Severus ignored him and kicked the ignition. The motorcycle roared to life, sending vibrations through the frame.
Hassoona, completely unbothered, grinned. “You drive fast, right?”
Severus smirked. “Faster than the bus.”
Then, without another word, he twisted the throttle, and the bike lurched forward.
James whooped, Sirius swore, Peter yelped, and Remus clung on tighter as Severus expertly maneuvered the streets, the warm Cairo wind rushing past them.
People in the street barely even reacted. No one pointed. No one gawked. It was as if five teenagers crammed onto a single motorcycle—four of whom were obviously foreign—was the most normal thing in the world.
James caught sight of a traffic officer watching them. The man barely batted an eye.
“What the hell is this city?” Sirius shouted over the wind.
Severus smirked, leaning into the turn. “Survival of the fittest.”
And with that, they sped off toward the school, the Marauders still reeling from the revelation that, in this city, Severus Snape was not a loner.
He was someone.