Heat
The engine roared beneath us, the red-and-white blur of the city streaking past the windows. Sirens wailed overhead, loud and familiar, vibrating in my bones. I stared ahead, jaw set, trying not to think.
The radio had been garbled, but clear enough: structure fire, two stories, possible occupants still inside. The kind of call that tightened the gut and shortened breath, no matter how many times you’d done it.
James sat across from me in the rig, strapping on his gloves. “Did I leave the oven on this morning or is that someone else’s house burning down?” he asked, already grinning like an idiot.
Frank groaned. “That joke wasn’t funny the last time you used it.”
“Still isn’t,” Marlene muttered from beside me, but she was already reaching for her mask.
Sirius sat beside the driver, quiet. He hadn’t cracked a smile. Not since the call came in. Not since the cliff.
He’d been… watching me, ever since.
Not obviously. Sirius Black doesn’t hover. But I’d catch his eyes on me just a beat too long during drills, or feel him slow down a half step to keep pace with me in the hallway. And if someone even joked about me taking a hit last week, he’d bristle like a storm about to break.
I hadn’t said anything. Didn’t want to. Because if I acknowledged it, that meant acknowledging that I wasn’t fine. And I was. I had to be.
The rig pulled to a hard stop. The moment the doors swung open, we were moving.
Smoke was already billowing from the windows of the townhouse — thick, black, angry. The kind that told you whatever was inside was long past salvaging.
"Go, go, go!" Frank’s voice barked through the comms.
I grabbed the hose with James and bolted toward the door. Heat rolled over us like a wave.
Inside was chaos.
Smoke swallowed the space whole. Flames licked the walls and ceilings, greedy and fast. The air was a wall, thick enough to chew.
I pushed through the entryway, calling out over the radio. “Station 81 inside, front entrance, beginning primary sweep.”
“Copy that,” Marlene’s voice came back. “Reports say two people unaccounted for, possibly upstairs.”
Figures.
James stuck close as we moved through the living room, fire cracking just behind the wall. “Bet they left a candle burning. Always a candle,” he muttered.
“Focus, Potter.”
“Focused. Just narrating my internal panic.”
I smirked, even through the smoke.
We made it to the stairs — or what was left of them — and started up, two at a time. The second floor was even worse. The heat was oppressive, pressing against my mask, clawing at my lungs despite the tank.
We found one of them in a bedroom — a woman, coughing, barely conscious.
James radioed for backup while I carried her down, careful and fast. The stairs groaned beneath us like they might collapse at any second. The fire was everywhere now.
Back outside, I passed her off to the med team and turned to go back in.
Sirius was waiting near the engine. “Lupin!”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically. “Going for the second vic.”
“You’re not going back in alone.”
“I’m not.”
James was already heading up behind me.
Sirius looked like he wanted to argue, but then he just pressed his lips into a line and nodded.
The second floor had gotten worse in those few minutes. Visibility was nearly zero. The fire had eaten through part of the roof, embers falling like angry stars. We moved fast, splitting slightly, shouting through the smoke.
“Remus!” James’s voice was muffled. “Back here!”
I followed the sound, pushing into what must’ve been a bathroom. A kid, maybe ten, was curled in the tub, crying, coughing.
I bent low. “Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” I said, pulling him close, tucking the mask near his mouth. “We’re getting out.”
I scooped him up, turned—
—and the floor gave out.
Not completely. Just enough.
One leg went through, plunging into the space below. I hit hard, twisting my shoulder, instinctively turning to protect the kid.
Pain lanced up my side. My mask nearly slipped.
I sucked in smoke and swore.
“Remus?” James again. “Shit—hold on—!”
“I’ve got him!” I shouted back, my voice rough. “Just get us out!”
The edges of my vision were going gray. I pulled the kid closer, heart hammering in my chest.
And then there were arms under mine.
Not James.
Sirius.
I didn’t even hear him come in.
His grip was firm, sure, not a trace of hesitation. He hauled me out like I weighed nothing and shoved the kid into James’s arms.
“We’re out!” he shouted over the radio.
Outside, I ripped my mask off and coughed until my lungs burned. Medics descended. The kid was whisked away. James collapsed into a crouch nearby, his gear scorched but intact.
Sirius stood a few feet away, pacing like a caged animal. I could feel his anger vibrating off him in waves, even through the haze of pain and adrenaline.
“I said I was fine,” I rasped.
He turned to look at me, eyes dark. “You were lying.”
I looked away.
Neither of us said anything after that.
Back at the station, things settled. Sort of.
Frank debriefed. Marlene made a pot of coffee strong enough to wake the dead. James made a joke about saving the damsel in distress — the kid, in this case — and got a glare from Dorcas.
I sat on the edge of the cot in the locker room, peeling off my bandages from the med unit. The burn wasn’t bad. The shoulder was sore, maybe bruised. Nothing worse than what we signed up for.
Sirius stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching.
Still not talking.
I didn’t say anything either.
But he stayed. That was the thing.
He didn’t say good job or don’t scare me like that again. He just… didn’t leave.
And when he finally turned to go, his hand clapped my shoulder — the uninjured one — and lingered for just a second too long.