A Maybe.
People who had grown up in London rarely seemed to be able to understand the charm the city held. Luckily for Sirius Black, he hadn’t grown up there. He saw the city as a place for dreams and opportunity instead of brick on cement.
A future. A fresh start.
London had it all, and therefore, it had owned Sirius’s heart since the very first time he stepped foot into it at the mere age of sixteen to attend London’s wealthiest boarding school—St. Paul’s Boys’ Academy—together with his best friend.
That was the first time Sirius saw London; lived it, felt the air; felt the opportunity. Now, at the age of twenty-five, Sirius had returned. Once again, with James in tow. And just like then, a whole new world lay ahead of him to be discovered.
It was thrilling.
“Sirius!”
“Huh?” Sirius whipped his head towards the door of the building behind him, fag between his lips. James was leaning against the doorway, arms and ankles crossed, a soft smile on his lips.
“I asked, are you ready to come back inside?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Sirius grinned and quickly stomped out his cigarette. “Lost my train of thought there, sorry.”
“What were you thinking about?” James walked down the two steps to the pavement and joined Sirius by the wall.
“There’s a record shop on the other side of the road.” Sirius pointed. “Should add a bit to the collection at some point.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” James agreed, “but can we do it after we’ve moved all these fucking boxes?”
“Awh, Potter, is it hard to carry boxes up to the first fucking floor?”
“When you’re out here ruining your lungs instead of helping, it is, yeah,” James mumbled. “Have one for me?”
The corner of Sirius’s mouth quirked up as he reached into his leather jacket’s pocket for his cigarettes. “Not the only one ruining my lungs.”
“Yeah, but you do it faster than me. I never chain-smoke.”
“Sure thing.” Sirius handed James the cigarettes and his lighter.
James smirked around his cigarette as he lit it, glasses slightly askew on his nose. When the cigarette was lit, he looked up at the building, inhaling. Sirius followed his gaze.
It was an old building; built in brown brick. The window frames were white in some places, brown in others where the paint had chipped off. Small balconies jutted out from the wall. The roof, though too high up to see, Sirius knew, was completely flat, but with a good view.
There was no better view than London.
“Can’t believe we live in there, now,” James mused, eyes locked on the first floor. “I’m sorry if you can hear me snore through the walls.”
“Nothing I’m not used to, you knob.”
James wriggled his eyebrows. “You loved sharing a room with me, you know it.”
Sirius sighed and looked at the ground floor. A giddy grin split his face.
The ground floor hosted a tattoo shop named Ink Deep. There was a large window showing the insides of the shop; its graffiti-covered walls; the leather chairs for clients; and some of Sirius’s new co-workers who were currently at work putting reminders into skin.
“Excited about your first day tomorrow?” James asked.
“You have no idea,” grinned Sirius. He had trained for two years back in Bristol, and now it was finally time to bring the knowledge to use. “You sure you don’t want one, Prongs?”
“Never, Padfoot, never.”
Sirius shrugged as James finished his cigarette. “Never too late to try. It doesn’t even hurt that much.”
“You can say whatever you want, but the first time you got one, you shrieked like a girl.”
Sirius whacked James in the back of the head. “Did not!”
“Did too! And you crushed the bones in my hand!”
“I’m telling mum!”
“Fuck you, Black.”
“Love you too, Prongs. Now, those boxes.”
*
Their new flat wasn’t big by any means. The floorboards creaked underneath their feet; the walls needed a new coat of paint; the kitchen was something right out of the sixties. It had two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a small living room built in with the kitchen. The narrow door by the kitchen led out to their balcony.
It was completely opposite to what both Sirius and James were used to. Sirius had grown up in a manor; long hallways and empty rooms with no soul or love to it. James, though his home had enough soul and love to fill every single person that stepped into the house, had also never lived small. The Potter family was far from as wealthy as the Blacks’, but they were still upper class.
This flat was small. This flat had a soul. This flat was theirs, and therefore it would be filled with love.
Sirius had never been happier.
At last, they’d moved all their remaining boxes from the narrow hallway on the ground floor, and up into the flat on the first floor. It wasn’t a long trip to walk, just a lot to bring. They’d already got all the furniture in place; that included Sirius’s piano, which was nestled into the corner of the living room. Their beds and drawers were in their separate rooms, and their couch stood facing away from the kitchen towards the door.
James threw himself on the couch, exhaling heavily. “We should have taken Dad up on his offer to help.”
“No, we should not,” Sirius chuckled and moved to the kitchen. He grasped a glass from the box labelled Kitchen Stuff :)) and filled it by the tap. “His back would hurt for days after, you know that.”
“I know, but let me complain,” James said and sat up to glare at Sirius from behind the backrest if the couch.
Sirius held his eyes for ten seconds, and then they both burst into laughter.
“I can’t fucking believe we live here, Prongs!” Sirius cackled. “We fucking live together. Just you and me.”
“Hell yeah, we fucking do,” James said. “You know what we need?”
“To get laid?”
“Well, sure, that too, but I was referring to vodka and pizza.”
Sirius groaned. “I have work tomorrow.”
“Beer, then. Just one. I saw a pizzeria down the street when we drove here.”
Sirius fiddled with his bottom lip. “Alright then, but we need music too.”
“We have music.” James gestured to the box of records that stood by Sirius’s bedroom door.
“We need new music,” Sirius clarified.
“Alright then.” James nodded as if this was a completely reasonable request. “I get food, you get music?”
“Sometimes I think you can read my mind.”
“Well, considering the conversation at hand, I would say it was a give—”
“Just agree, Prongs.”
“Alright, Pads.”
*
The bell chimed above Sirius’s head when he stepped into the record shop. The warmth of the close-packed shop instantly enveloped him; a stark contrast to the late October air. It smelled dusty in there; the kind of dust that had been in Uncle Alphard’s living room when Sirius was a kid.
There were rows upon rows with records, lamps hung from the low ceiling, and faint music played from a record player in the corner.
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytime
Sirius’s mouth tucked up at the corners. He stepped further into the shop. He was seemingly the only one there; the spot behind the cashier table was empty. He began to walk along the aisles between shelves of albums. His fingers flipped mindlessly through the stacks; nothing quite caught his eye.
A door in the far corner of the room suddenly opened and startled Sirius. He locked his eyes on the source of the intrusion. It was a man. A very tall man. That was the first thought that ran through Sirius’s mind as he took him in.
The man had yet to see him, yelling something over his shoulder at someone in the room behind the door: “Yeah, yeah! Good for you, Hank!” These words were followed by a chuckle from someone on the other side of the wall—Hank, presumably.
The man shook his head, amused, and closed the door behind him with his elbow. It was now Sirius really allowed himself to take the rest of the man in. He was supporting his weight on a cane in his left hand and, under his right arm, he was holding a box against his hip. His hair was a mess of short light-brown curls. A scar stretched over the back of his nose; from under his left eye to right corner of his mouth. When he finally saw Sirius standing there, his eyes zeroed in. Sirius noted that they were the warmest shade of brown he’d ever seen.
“Oh, hello!” he said, chipper. He moved towards the cashier table and placed the box on top of it. Leaning against his cane, he tilted his head at Sirius. “Can I help you?”
“Uh.”
The man cocked an eyebrow. “Uh?”
Sirius cleared his throat and straightened his back. “Yeah, actually. What music is the best to listen to when you’re eating pizza with your best mate as a celebration?”
“Oh, that depends,” the man said, smirking. “What are you celebrating?”
“We just moved into a flat together,” Sirius said. “First night in it tonight.”
“Ah,” the man said. “Well, I think I have just the right music for that incredibly specific request.”
“Really?” Sirius asked.
“No, probably not. It was a very specific request, but I can still recommend some that could work out.” He reached into the box on the cashier's table and pulled out an album. He put it on the tabletop and gestured for Sirius to step closer.
Tentatively, Sirius did. He was oddly aware of how he was moving his hands. He stopped by the table and looked at the album cover.
“Oh. Bowie,” he said.
The man grinned. “Yup. It's one of my personal favourites of all time. It’s from seventy-two, but it never gets old. Have you ever listened to it?”
“Never really got into Bowie, to be honest,” Sirius admitted lowly.
“Because you don’t like the music, or because you never listened?” the man asked.
“I—I guess I just never listened, really,” Sirius said. His eyes found the man’s. Startlingly brown. He swallowed. “Which one is your favourite on the album?”
“Starman, but Five Years is a close second.”
“I think I’ve heard Starman on the radio once,” Sirius mumbled. “That was pretty good, as far as I remember.”
“More than good, it’s phenomenal, really the whole album—” A deep shade of red flourished in the man’s cheek all of a sudden. “Sorry, sorry, I tend to ramble when it comes to music.”
Sirius grinned. “Don’t worry, so do I.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you like?”
“Queen, a lot.” Sirius inclined his head towards the record player. “Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd… the likes.”
The man wet his lips. “Good taste.”
“Thanks. I know.”
The man snorted, his hand flying to his mouth to stifle it. “Full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Loud and proud,” Sirius smirked. “So, how much for this one?” He tapped the album. The cover showed Bowie in a dark-lit street.
“Nothing,” the man said. “It’s on the house.”
“Really?” Sirius asked, perplexed. “You sure?”
“Well, not completely,” the man mused. “You could pay for it by your name, posh boy.”
“Posh boy?” Sirius sputtered.
The man grinned. “The leather jacket and ripped jeans ain’t fooling no one, love. It’s in the way you hold yourself up.”
Sirius opened and closed his mouth. His stomach felt weird. “D-don’t call me love.”
“Then give me your name.”
“Only if you give me yours,” Sirius said, crossing his arms.
“Remus,” he said instantly. “Remus Lupin.”
“Damn, now I really have to, don’t I?” Sirius sighed, tapping his fingers against the tabletop.
“Yeah, you do,” Remus said.
Sirius pursed his lips. “Sirius,” he finally said. “Sirius Black.”
“You’re a star?”
“You’re the one who said that not me, but yes. I’m a fucking star.”
A startled laugh escaped Remus’s lips. “So full of yourself, truly. Now, tell me, have you always lived in London?”
“I come from Bristol,” Sirius said. “Went to St. Paul’s here in year twelve and thirteen, though.”
“Yup, posh boy definitely,” Remus declared. “Let me guess, heir to a bunch of money?”
“Nah, not any more,” Sirius said casually. Vaguely, he knew he should be getting back to the flat; that he should be in a hurry to meet back up with James. But there was just something about Remus that had him hooked.
“Noted.” Remus nodded. “Where have you moved in?”
“Asking a lot of questions—planning on becoming my stalker or something?”
Remus tilted his head from side to side in deep thought. “I mean, I usually use the term friends, but whatever fits your boat.”
“Oh, so I’m your friend now?”
“You gave me your name, that means you’re my friend.”
“That’s how we make friends, now? Is this a kindergarten?”
“I wish, life was much easier back then, but it’s a quite productive method, wouldn’t you say?” Those eyes were boring into Sirius’s skull, and his throat became dryer than the Sahara.
“Um—Maybe?”
“C’mon, Sirius Black, don’t tell me you don’t wanna be my friend.”
Sirius opened his mouth. Closed it. “I don’t know you.”
“You could, if you became my friend.”
“Do you do this often with customers?”
“No, only after a day with six hours of work with barely any customers. I’m bored, and you’re the most entertaining thing that has happened today.”
“I’m not sure whether to be insulted or not.”
Remus chuckled lightly. “I don’t know either, to be honest, but, eh, take it as a compliment?” He scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes.
Sirius chuckled at his sudden awkwardness. “Alright, let’s say I’m your maybe friend. Good enough?”
Remus lit up. “Yes! Now, where do you live?”
Stalker, Sirius mouthed. “Just across the street,” Sirius said. “Just above Ink Deep.”
“Really?” Remus grinned. “Then we’re living really close to each other. Live on the top floor up there.” He pointed towards the ceiling. “Me and my roommate Lily.”
“Neighbours, then,” Sirius said.
“Yeah,” grinned Remus.
“In that case, we’re also work neighbours,” Sirius said. “I work at Ink Deep. Well, I do from tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Remus’s eyebrows shot upwards. “You any good?”
Sirius smirked. “More than.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “Full. Of. Yourself.”
Sirius was just about to reply, but then the bell sounded, and both his and Remus’s eyes moved to the door where none other than James Potter stepped inside the shop, carrying two pizza boxes, and two bottles of beer.
“Padfoot!” he exclaimed. “I’m ready—Are you?”
Sirius felt a pang of irritation at the intrusion, but quickly masked it away with a smile. “Yeah, I’m coming, Prongs.”
“Great!” With that, James left the shop once again.
Sirius sighed fondly and took the album under his arm. “That’s my sign to leave.”
“The roommate?” Remus asked, inclining his head towards the door and James who stood on the other side of it.
“Roommate, brother by choice, partner in crime, pain in the arse,” Sirius listed off.
“I sure hope he isn’t,” Remus smirked.
“What—? Oh!” Sirius’s eyes opened wide with the realisation. “No, of course he isn’t! James isn’t—I’m not—”
Remus cackled, shaking his head. “Alright, posh boy.” His eyes twinkled.
Sirius rolled his eyes but it was with a smile. “See you, maybe friend.” He began walking towards the exit.
“Soon?” Remus called after him as Sirius was about to push open the door.
Sirius looked back, his eyes finding those warm brown ones. “Yeah," he said. "Soon.”
The cold enveloped him as he stepped outside, but he still felt warm, somehow.
*
“You know, I don’t care whoever you take to bed, Lupin,” Hank said not long after as they were closing the shop, “but I do like to earn money. Don’t do that stunt again with the payment, no matter how pretty the boy is.”
Remus grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Hank.”
Hank flipped his ear teasingly in passing. “No, you’re not.”
“Whatever,” Remus grumbled, but there was a smile on his face. “Do you wanna lock the door or should I?”
“I’ll do it, just get away with you,” grumbled Hank.
Remus grinned and went over to Hank to pull him into a sideways hug. “Thanks, oldie.”
“How I put up with you, I have no idea.”
Remus grinned, said a proper goodbye, and then left through the backdoor in the back room that led out to the building’s staircase that led up to the upper floors. Remus sighed at the sight of them.
When he and Lily had first bought the top flat three years ago, the stairs had been no problem, but now with the cane by his side, and the cold setting into his by now months-old injury scar-tissue, the trip was never one to look forward to.
With a sigh, he began the climb.
Lily was inside the flat’s kitchen, judging from the sound of her loud, “Hiya, Remus!” It smelled of curry.
“Hi, Lils!” Remus called and kicked off his shoes while supporting himself against the wall.
Lily stepped into the hallway, grinning at him. She had oven mitts on her hands, and her red hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her grin turned to a small frown. “Is your leg bothering you?”
Remus waved her off. “Just the fucking cold. The doctor said it would be worse now that winter is near, you know that.”
“Still, do you need to sit?”
“No, Mum,” Remus said teasingly and moved towards her with the help of his cane. Today had been a particularly bad day for his leg.
Lily tsked but smiled. “Good day at work, then?"
A soft smile touched Remus’s lips. “I suppose you could say that, yeah.”