The invitation and a full house
It was late afternoon, and the apartment was filled with the sound of rustling papers and the occasional groan of frustration. James was flipping through one of Severus’s medical textbooks, trying—and failing—to make sense of the diagrams. Sirius had dragged a chair onto the tiny balcony, balancing it on two legs while watching the street below. Peter was going through the kitchen cabinets, looking for something to eat, and Remus had claimed the couch, nose buried in a novel he’d picked off Severus’s shelf.
Severus, for his part, was at the small table, sorting through an intimidating stack of paperwork for their IDs.
Then there was a knock at the door.
Everyone froze.
Sirius shot a sharp look at Severus. “You expecting someone?”
Severus sighed and stood. “If I were, I would have told you.”
He pulled open the door to find Intisar standing there, a warm smile on her face and Hassoona peeking out from behind her. She was carrying a covered tray.
“Severus, habibi,” she greeted. “Come have iftar with us tonight.”
Severus blinked in surprise.
The Marauders exchanged confused glances.
“Iftar?” Peter asked.
Severus turned slightly. “The meal they break their fast with.”
Intisar chuckled, her gaze flickering between them. “Of course, you should all come! There is plenty of food.”
Severus hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go—he liked Intisar’s cooking, and he knew it was rude to refuse—but the idea of sitting at a crowded dinner table with the Marauders was… unsettling.
As if sensing his thoughts, Intisar placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Come,” she said softly. “It is Ramadan. No one eats alone.”
Severus swallowed, then nodded.
“We’ll be down,” he murmured.
Satisfied, Intisar patted his cheek and left, Hassoona skipping beside her.
James, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke.
“That was unexpected.”
Severus shot him a look. “Not really.”
Remus leaned forward. “So we’re going?”
Severus exhaled. “Yes.”
Peter perked up. “Is the food good?”
Severus rolled his eyes. “You’ll find out soon enough. Now come on, they’ll expect us to help set the table.”
Sirius looked outraged. “We’re guests!”
Severus arched a brow. “And?”
Sirius opened his mouth, then shut it. He had no argument.
So, with no other choice, the Marauders followed Severus downstairs.
The apartment was larger than Severus’s, but still modest. The long dining table was already half set, and the smell of warm spices filled the air.
The Marauders had barely stepped inside before they were hit with the scent of spiced meat, warm bread, and something sweet simmering in the kitchen. The apartment was bright and full of life, with voices overlapping as people moved around, setting the table, chatting, and calling out to one another. It was crowded—far more crowded than they were used to.
James found himself pressed against a side table as a teenage girl rushed past him with a jug of juice. Sirius nearly tripped over a pair of children’s shoes by the door. Peter hesitated near the entrance, looking overwhelmed, while Remus, always observant, took it all in with quiet curiosity.
And then the introductions started.
“This is my mother, Nabeela,” Intisar said, gesturing toward an elderly woman sitting comfortably at the head of the table. She had a calm presence, watching everything with wise eyes.
The Marauders gave polite nods.
“My son, Saeed,” Intisar continued, pointing to a tall young man who looked to be in his early twenties, dressed in a plain shirt and trousers. He nodded at them but said nothing, his expression unreadable.
“This is my eldest daughter, Hadeel, and her husband, Ayman.”
A woman in her mid-twenties, her dark hair covered with a neat scarf, smiled at them as she adjusted a serving bowl. Beside her, a man with a trimmed beard gave them a nod while helping arrange the chairs.
“And this is Mariam,” Intisar said, ruffling the hair of a teenage girl who had just placed a basket of bread on the table.
“And Hassoona, of course,” she finished, resting a hand on the little boy’s shoulder.
Hassoona grinned, clearly delighted by all the unfamiliar faces. “We sit on the floor sometimes if there aren’t enough chairs,” he told them helpfully.
The Marauders were still processing just how many people lived in this house.
James leaned toward Severus. “They all live here?” he muttered.
Severus gave him a sharp look but didn’t answer.
It was Nabeela who spoke, having clearly overheard. “Yes,” she said, her voice steady but kind. “We all live here.”
James blinked.
Sirius frowned slightly. “But it’s—” He caught himself before saying cramped. “It’s not very big.”
Nabeela smiled, unfazed. “We thank God for what we have. My son is still searching for work, and my daughter and younger son are still students. Hadeel and Ayman don’t have a house of their own yet, so they're staying here until they manage to get one.”
The Marauders were quiet.
They had grown up differently. James had a massive house with more rooms than his family needed. Sirius had lived in a grand, suffocating manor. Even Remus and Peter, with their more modest homes, had never shared a space like this.
It was strange to them, how so many people could live in such a small space—and yet, looking around, it didn’t feel unpleasant. There was a warmth to it. A closeness.
Saeed, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke. “It’s not perfect,” he admitted. “Sometimes it’s too loud. But we’re family.” He shrugged. “We make it work.”
Severus, who had been standing quietly, spoke up then. “That’s how it is here.”
The Marauders turned to him.
He crossed his arms. “Family stays together. If someone needs a place to stay, you make room. It doesn’t matter if you have to share.” (Unless you're like half of my blasted family, betting my kidney my aunt doesn't even know my name, wouldn't recognize me on the street if she tried)
Sirius looked like he wanted to argue. Family isn’t always like that, his expression seemed to say.(preach Sirius, family is overrated anyways) But he stayed silent.
And then, before they could dwell on it any longer, the distant sound of the adhan—the call to prayer—rang through the open windows.
The room fell quiet.
And just like that, the moment passed.
It was time to eat.