Well, He Was Cheerful
James rubbed his sore neck as he walked down the Chicago streets. He had spent all night on that godforsaken train and he hadn’t slept a wink all the way to Chicago. He couldn’t forget last night.
He couldn’t forget McGonnagall.
He couldn’t forget the way that Pomfrey had screamed or how the bingo tickets she was holding had all fallen in the dirt, worth nothing.
He’d spent the night at the train station before he was rudely awoken by one of the patrolling cops, who had struck him on the shin with his baton.
After that, James had walked (limped) around until he found the exit and the right street. Grimmauld.
The street ran parallel to an elevated train track. James looked at the addresses of each of the little buildings, referring to the paper a couple times to make sure he had the right spot. After a bit, he found the place.
It was a tall, dark building that looked no different from any other one on the block. It had two stories with apartments on top. As James peered through the windows he could see a large merry-go-round on the bottom floor. James also noted a distinct lack of anyone inside. As he walked around the side of the building, he could feel the porcelain horses’ beady little eyes on him.
They gave him chills.
He walked around to the side of the house. There was a staircase that led to the upper floors and a mailbox shaped like a wolf nailed to the front. A young man was sweeping the stairs.
He looked almost younger than James. He had dark, fluffy hair that stopped a bit below his ears. His dress shirt was clean. Though his dark green suit vest was nice, it was worn along the seams. He had faint freckles, like he had once spent more time outside, but now stayed hidden away.
Wow.
He had a sour expression on his (very nice) face when he turned to look at James, not fazed in the slightest.
“What.”
James blinked in mild surprise at the cheerful greeting before clearing his throat, “I’m looking for Sirius Black. You know him?”
The man narrowed his gray eyes, moving down another step and sweeping the dust off the edge of the stairs. It poofed up in a little cloud and almost got into James’s eyes. The guy’s jaw tightened as he spoke.
“No. Beat it,” He motioned with his broom for James to scram, almost hitting him in the face with the bristles and sweeping a fair amount of dust towards him. James furrowed his brow, checking the address once again. He sure hoped this guy wasn’t Sirius.
“Minerva McGonagall sent me,” James explained. James tried not to let his throat close up saying her name. James watched as the guy paused his sweeping, looking at James with a new sort of intrigue. James could feel his critical gaze land on his scuffed shoes, his (probably smelly) stained suit, and finally on his face.
James suddenly felt very shy. He flattened his hair down, trying to tame it. Compared to this guy, whom he had now given the name ‘Friendly,’ James looked like a bum. More than usual.
Friendly set aside his broom, walking down to the bottom stair and standing across from James.
“Are you Potter?”
James let out a breath of relief and nodded. Friendly hummed and brushed past him, motioning for James to follow as he walked around to the back of the building. He spoke as he led James.
“Why didn’t you say so? I thought you were a cop in disguise or something,” His critical gaze flicked back over James. “Very. good disguise.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring, which he looked through before finding a particularly scratched up key and opening the back door for James, motioning him inside.
“It’s the room on the side. He wasn’t expecting you so soon though,” Friendly grinned wryly and James raised an eyebrow at his mildly amused tone. He turned to ask what that meant only to find no one there. Friendly had already shut the door, leaving James alone.
Well, he was cheerful.
James skirted around the motionless merry-go-round, his feet tapping against the cracking red concrete floor. He didn’t like how the porcelain horses were staring at him as he walked. James shuddered–he hated horses.
He found the door Friendly had meant. It didn’t look particularly grand. The paint was chipping off around the frame, and there was a brownish stain on the bottom right corner. Thin cracks ran up the frame from water damage.
This was it?
Then again, James supposed one of the greatest con artists would have to be discreet.
James knocked once. Twice. After a moment, he tried the doorknob, which was unlocked.
Had he been expecting this, it would have been alright. However he wasn’t, and he leant far too much weight on the door and all but fell through. He crashed onto a very unpleasantly damp rug.
James stood quickly, brushing himself off and looking around for…nobody.
The room was small, consisting of a bed whose blankets had all fallen off to the side, a sink directly across from it, a small refrigerator next to the door, and a single chair in the middle of everything. James craned his neck to look into the bathroom, and was met with a toilet and a bathtub with a long spigot for showers to be taken, as well as another sink.
Two sinks.
No Sirius Black.
James jumped as a snore cut through the silence of the room.
James took a step in and closed the door behind him. His eyes flicked over to the bed, but there was no one there. Except for the blankets that had fallen off.
James walked around to the side of the bed and…yep, there he was.
Wedged between the bed and the peeling wallpaper, a hat propped on his head and an empty whiskey bottle in his hand, slept...the great Sirius Black.
James looked at the guy. He didn’t know why he expected some gray-haired, smooth talking gentleman. Maybe Paul Newman or some other movie star. Hell, he would’ve settled for someone not asleep. He should’ve known.
Sirius Black had long, dark hair that currently tangled itself around his neck like the world’s most convenient scarf. His undershirt was fraying at the hems, and both of his suspenders had fallen off his shoulders. He hardly looked older than James, a couple years at the absolute most.
His face (which was smushed against the wall in a less than flattering way as he snored) was similar enough to Friendly’s that James could guess that they were related. One of his shoes was missing. He had chipping pink nail polish on his toes.
James sighed. Alright, first things first, get him sober.
James ran a hand through his hair before reaching forward, hooking his hands under Sirius’s armpits and hoisting him up. James grunted at how heavy his limp body was. He staggered over to the bathroom and unceremoniously plopped Sirius down into the bathtub. Sirius did manage a few drunken complaints, which was a good sign, as the guy reeked of whiskey.
James gave him an unapologetic look as he turned on the spigot, not bothering to turn on the hot water. Sirius groaned and his head flopped forward, the cold water raining on his head. He didn’t move much after that.
So this would take a minute. James took a seat on the toilet, crossing his arms and waiting.
It took ten minutes for Sirius to do anything. It was enough for James to seriously wonder why on god’s flat earth Minnie had wanted him to see the guy. He was a drunken slob who—
“Turn it off.”
James turned to see Sirius frowning at him belarily. His hair stuck to his face and water ran down his shoulders and back. James raised an eyebrow. The shower handle was literally an arm’s length away from Sirius.
James tilted his head at Sirius, “You sober?”
Sirius just sat there stoically, looking like a soggy dog who got stuck out in the rain.
James sighed as his lack of response, taking it as a no and leaning back against the wall. After a moment, he heard the water moving as Sirius leant forward, turning off the shower. He slumped back, splashing water over the side.
Sirius and James looked at each other for a moment before Sirius grinned.
“Glad to meet you, Potter, you’re a real horse’s ass.”
Oh boy.
“Yeah, Minnie told me you could teach me some things,” James looked over Sirius, who was struggling to stand up in his waterlogged clothes. “I already know how to drink.”
Sirius sighed, running a hand over his face. He spoke in a quieter tone, his grin dimming a bit. “I’m sorry about Minnie. She was the best grifter I ever saw.”
They were silent for a minute, and James blinked hard, clearing his throat. Back to business. And the question he had been asking himself for the past ten minutes.
“McGonagall had you down as a big-timer. What…happened?” James gestured vaguely at Sirius’s whole being.
Sirius got up slowly, emptying the water out of his pockets and wringing out his hair. He shook his head.
“My mom and pops were grifters on the big con, taught me everything I know. Regulus and me split from them as soon as we could. Reg wanted to go into art theft of all things…yeah, I put a stop to that real quick,” Sirius laughed a bit.
“Anyways, things were good until I tried to con some senator on a stock deal. He was a real lop-ear, thought he was gonna take over General Electric. Anyways, some rat wisened him up and he put the feds on me. We’ve been lying low since.”
James scoffed after taking a moment to realize that “Regulus” was most likely Friendly’s actual name, and Sirius’s brother. James furrowed his brow at the story as Sirius got out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor and walking out into the bedroom.
“You mean you blew it?”
Sirius paused as he was getting a block of ice out of the freezer, turning to frown at James. “Minnie didn’t tell me you had a big mouth,” he grumbled.
“Yeah? She didn’t tell me you were a screw-up, either,” James shot back. James heard Sirius sigh and he pulled out a pocket knife, walking around to the sink in the bedroom and setting the block of ice into it, breaking it up into pieces.
“You played the big con since then?” James asked over the noise of Sirius stabbing the ice block.
Sirius stuck his hand out through the doorway, waving his hand nonchalantly, “Nah, I laid low for a while while things cooled off. Reggie found this old place, runs the bar that connects it.”
James tried not to let his disappointment show in his silence. Who was this guy? He acted like a washed up middle-aged drunk at the age of 25. 26? Near James’s age in any case.
James heard a dry laugh come from around the wall and Sirius’s voice. “Don’t kid yourself, Potter. I still know how.”
James nodded, unconvinced. There was a splash of Sirius dunking his face in the ice water, waking himself up. Sirius spoke after a moment, his voice less groggy now, “Riddle after you too?”
James shrugged, though he knew Sirius couldn’t see. “Don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone.”
The splashing stopped, and Sirius’s head poked around the doorframe, a delightedly macabre smile on his face as ice water dripped from his chin. “You never do.”
James frowned and his heart sunk. He hadn’t thought of that. Sirius’s head disappeared around the corner again and he called from across the room.
“You staying for breakfast, or do you already know how to eat?”