FIC: "One More for the Road" for ragdoll
Recipient: ragdoll
Author/Artist: ???
Title: One More for the Road
Rating: R
Pairings: Sirius/Rosmerta
Word Count: 5,100
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *None*.
Summary: In which James can't dance, the apology biscuits aren't safe, and Sirius gets roped into an Order mission he doesn't want, but it turns out to be less boring than he feared.
Author's/Artist's Notes: Thanks to G for the beta, and to the incomparable Beth, who was incredibly patient with my tardiness.
"Hey, Padfoot," James said seriously, his hands curled on the windowsill, his hair freshly washed and just starting to riot, "I need a favour."
"Of course you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't be standing on my fire escape at half six," Sirius said, a piece of slightly burnt toast halfway to his mouth. He floated the kettle over to the stove, tapping his bare foot on the faded kitchen lino. "Why are you on the fire escape, anyway? I told you the other day I got the Floo sorted."
"You said that the last time, and Peter ended up in some Muggle's wine cellar," James pointed out.
Sirius waved this off as irrelevant. "Peter just mumbles, is all. These older buildings can't be having with mumblers." He leaned back against the sideboard and popped the last bit of toast into his mouth. "Come inside at least, will you? Mrs Abernathy upstairs already thinks I'm off my box without you skulking around my window like a speccy thief."
"You are off your box."
"Wanker. Get in here."
"I really can't just now. I'm meant to meet Longbottom in fifteen minutes," James said, his broom tucked under his arm. "Lily finally found that grimoire Dumbledore's been wanting, but it's sealed with a spell I don't recognise. Longbottom said he'd take a look at it for me, if I catch him before he starts his shift at the Ministry." He frowned at the interior of Sirius' flat -- the laundry piled on a chair, the stack of dirty dishes threatening to topple into the sink, the sagging and threadbare couch Remus slept on whenever he was in town. "Where's Moony, then?"
"Haven't the foggiest," Sirius said, scratching his side. He was still hungry, but that toast had been the last of the bread, and there wasn't anything in the Muggle refrigerator Lily had given him but Butterbeer, two tins of tomatoes, and a carton of take-away so old it was likely sentient. "He took off a couple days ago without a word. Order business, I guess." He shrugged. "I figure he was headed somewhere soggy and wet -- he made off with my best Wellingtons and that cranky old brolly of his."
"Oh." James shifted a little, causing the fire escape to creak alarmingly, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Just, that favour... I was going to ask him, if you said no."
"Well, get on with it, then. Hurry up and ask me, so I can tell you to piss off."
James huffed under his breath. "You remember Lily's sister, don't you? Petunia?"
"The tall, horse-faced bird at your wedding? Always looked like she just swallowed a tripe flavoured Bertie Botts?"
"Yeah, that's her," James said, ducking his head through the window. The sky was heavy and colourless behind him, the horizon blurry and barely hinting at purple. "She's getting married this week."
Sirius yawned into the back of his hand. "Bully for her, then. Give me the bloke's name and I'll owl him my condolences."
"Oh, this fellow is a prize, all right. Worse than Petunia, if you can imagine."
"That's brilliant, really. Just brilliant," Sirius mumbled, sighing loudly and rubbing his eyes. "What's it got to do with you waking me up at arse o'clock in the morning?"
"Well, the thing is--"
"I was having the best dream right before you showed up," Sirius continued, frowning as the kettle began to whistle softly. He'd forgotten he'd put it on. "I was trapped in a blizzard with the Holyhead Harpies. All of them, Prongs, and they were rather--"
"Shut it, will you? Hearing the rude bits this early will only put me off my breakfast."
"Okay, then. I'll just be going back to bed." Sirius silenced the kettle with a lazy wave of his wand. "Maybe I can still catch two or three of those girls before they tunnel through that snowdrift."
"Sirius."
"All right, all right. Get on with it."
"We're leaving this morning, as soon as I'm done with Longbottom," James explained, tapping his fingers on the windowsill. "Lily needs to be there a couple of days early, so she can help Petunia with... well, I don't know, really. Bloody flower arrangements, and that." He frowned slightly and tugged on his fringe. "Only, I've got patrol duty tonight, in Hogsmeade."
Sirius snorted rudely. "Not a chance."
"Padfoot."
"Absolutely not," Sirius grumbled, his arms folded across his chest. Patrol duty wasn't a terrible Order assignment -- it was better than chasing Death Eaters through fens, or digging dark artefacts from people's attics -- but it was long hours, and Hogsmeade would be dead boring now that school was out for the Easter holiday. "I just did two weeks in Dovetown."
"C'mon, be a mate. It's just one night," James said hopefully, his teeth creasing his lower lip. "Lily will peel me like a shrivelfig if I leave her with Petunia's barmy Muggle friends."
"Yeah, all right. I'll do it, if it means you'll bugger off and let me go back to sleep."
James flashed Sirius a wide, crooked smile. "Thanks, Sirius. I mean it."
"If you really mean it, you'll have Lily cook me a spot of real food when you get back," Sirius barked, as James started to mount his broom. "I'd rather jump out the window than eat another Pot Noodle."
---
"Well, it could be worse," Peter said thoughtfully. He was perched on top of the sideboard, swinging his legs as he ate one of the ginger biscuits Lily had owled Sirius as an apology. "It could be Dovetown again."
Sirius stopped digging through his laundry heap long enough to shoot Peter a dirty look. "Don't remind me." Most of Dovetown's residents were well over ninety; they all turned in for the night as soon as the sun started to set, and there wasn't a decent inn or pub for miles in any direction. "I nearly went batty."
"I don't want to hear it, really," Peter said, his fringe falling in his eyes. "I just came off a week in Ottery St Catchpole."
"Tergeo!" Sirius grumbled, jabbing his wand at the cleanest shirt in the lot. He rather needed to do all his washing, but he couldn't be arsed to do a full set of laundry spells just to hang around the dirty alley behind Scrivenshaft's. "How bad was it, then? Did you get lost in that overgrown cornfield the Weasley's call a back garden?"
Peter shrugged and bit into another biscuit. "The last night was all right, I guess. I read the latest Martin Miggs in Arthur's garage."
"Wormtail, you're meant to patrol on patrol duty."
"It was raining," Peter said dismissively, waving Sirius off. "Besides, there isn't much else out there, just the Diggorys and the Lovegoods. The Diggorys were in the Torremolinos, and the Lovegoods are... well, you know how Xeno is."
"Not recently, no," Sirius said, Summoning his shoes from under the couch. Lovegood's final year at Hogwarts had been Sirius' first; Sirius hadn't seen him in ages, and the last time he'd been wearing a plumed helmet the exact colour of a satsuma. "Still mad as a box of frogs, then?"
"Always will be," Peter replied brightly. "I figured his place was already well protected, between the Erumpent horn talismans and the feral dirigible grass." He finished his biscuit and promptly reached for another. "So, Hogsmeade, then?"
"I should've been there ten minutes ago, but I can't get you out of my kitchen." Sirius pulled his shirt over his head and tied his shoes with a muttered Charm. "I do hope you're enjoying my biscuits."
The sideboard creaked mournfully as Peter slid to his feet. "I'd be enjoying them more if they were chocolate," he said, dusting crumbs from the front of his robe. "I've got a Martin Miggs with me, if you want it."
"I'll be all right," Sirius said, shaking his head. "The Broomsticks should be open. I'll just pop in there for a drink or two."
"Padfoot, you're meant to patrol on patrol duty," Peter said drily.
"Oh, get out, will you? I'm running late as it is."
---
Sirius Apparated into the alley behind the Three Broomsticks, and was promptly greeted by a wave of cold, soapy water.
He cursed and sputtered and coughed, blinking and rubbing his eyes. His hair was drenched and water was pooling in the collar of his shirt. He heard someone gasp as he spat soap from his mouth; when he looked up he found Madam Rosmerta standing at the Broomstick's back door, her wand in one hand and an empty bucket in the other. The light from inside the pub was yellowish, too bright, and her mouth was twitching in a way Sirius rather didn't appreciate.
"Sirius Black, is that you?" she asked, taking a few steps toward him. She tilted her head and squinted against the shadows around him. "Well, didn't you grow up into a bit of all right?"
"I might have," he grumbled. He pushed a handful of wet hair from his face and tried to wring out the tails of his shirt; the dirt under his feet was quickly turning into mud. "I'm chuffed you came out here just to toss your dishwater at me."
"Still as polite as ever," she murmured, just loud enough for Sirius to hear. She Banished the bucket with a sigh, then frowned at him for a moment, her hands settling at her hips. "Let's get you inside, then."
"I'm sopping!"
"Merlin's beard. Here I thought you did seven years at a school for magic," she said, waving her wand. "Siccous!"
Sirius' clothes shivered and twisted as the water spun away; he hissed as his collar tried to choke him. "You're the one doing your washing up like a Muggle."
"The glasses streak less when I do them by hand," she explained, turning back toward the Broomsticks. "Close the door behind you, there's a good lad."
Sirius huffed under his breath and followed her inside.
---
"There you are, love," Rosmerta said, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of Sirius. "That'll warm you up." She dropped two fingers of Firewhisky into an separate glass and pushed it toward him with a sigh. "So will that, since you probably won't touch the tea."
Sirius did touch it, cradling the cup to take the chill off his hands. The Broomsticks was empty, except for an ancient fellow named Barnabas who'd been asleep at the end of the bar nearest the bog since Sirius' second year at school; the fire was starting to burn low, and the Wireless was barely a muted buzz. Rosmerta kept busy behind the bar, humming as she stacked glasses on the shelves and wiped down everything in sight with a damp rag.
"You must be about closed," Sirius said.
"Oh, I might give it another two hours," she said, replacing the cork on a dusty bottle of Mandrake vodka. Her robe was hanging open; underneath she wore a soft green jumper and a skirt that hugged her curves as it fell to her knees. "Barnabas will want another drink if he ever wakes up, and Aberforth might stop in, looking for a spot of supper."
"Aberforth?" Sirius took a sip of Firewhisky, gritting his teeth as it burned his throat. "No food at the Hog's Head, then?"
Rosmerta laughed softly. "Wouldn't do him any good if there was. Can't cook at wandpoint, bless him." She cleaned off the rag with a Charm and dropped it somewhere behind the bar. "He shows up here every so often with a bit of meat or a sack of potatoes, and I turn it into enough stew to last him a few days."
The fire died with a few pops and a soft hiss; Rosmerta waved her wand at it, mostly bringing it back to life.
"So," Rosmerta said, her mouth curving with a smile, "I hear your friend James finally tricked that Evans girl into marrying him."
"Here, I'm pretty sure she tricked him," Sirius said, taking another sip of Firewhisky. He chased away the sour tang with some tea, which was still hot enough to make the skin above his lip break into a sweat. "Something about three meals a day and foot rubs before bed. I told him he was daft to consider it, but you know James." He shrugged and blew on his tea. "He didn't listen to me when I told him not to put Chizpurfles in McGonagall's tartan hat, either."
"The way those two bickered their fourth and fifth year," she said, shaking her head, "I never would've thought it."
"Oh, they do all right," Sirius admitted, smiling a little. "At least, they seemed to have a system worked out. He does whatever she says, and she doesn't really aim when she's throwing things at his head." Rosmerta huffed, favouring him with a sharp look, and Sirius snorted. "Honestly, she's a good bird. The best. She's having a sprog in a few months -- James is so proud of himself, he hasn't been fit to live with."
"Well, let's hope the baby has her hair," Rosmerta said, tipping more Firewhisky into his glass. "James' hair never met a Brushing Charm it couldn't ignore."
Sirius laughed at that, loudly enough that it roused Barnabas from his stupor. He glared murderously at Sirius, his bleary eyes half-open, then grunted at Rosmerta and flapped his hand in her general direction.
"It's about time you went upstairs for the night," Rosmerta told him, splashing what looked like sherry into the teacup in his hands. The Broomsticks only had four or five rooms; as far as Sirius knew, they'd been let by the same people for close to twenty years. "If you fall into the storage cupboard again, I'll leave you there to sleep it off."
There was a sudden, rattling bang at the rear of the pub, like someone was hammering on the back door. Sirius reached for his wand, but Rosmerta waved him off.
"That'll be Aberforth," she said, wiping her hands on the apron tied over her skirt.
"All right." Sirius pushed away from the bar and reached for his cloak. He hadn't done any patrolling yet; he might as well get on with it, before Aberforth caught him drinking and flirting, instead of snooping around keyholes, or whatever it was he was meant to be doing, and complained about it like a girl's blouse at the next Order meeting. "You can get him sorted if you want. I fancy taking a walk."
"One more for the road?" Rosmerta asked, nodding her head at his nearly empty glass.
Sirius smiled. "I'll be back for it."
---
"Bloody James Potter," Sirius growled, as he squelched past Dervish & Banges.
It had started raining as soon as Sirius reached the Owl Post Office, a proper Scottish rain that shook the trees and quickly churned all the alleys into sticky rivers of mud. Sirius was freezing to death; he hadn't thought he need a warmer cloak when it the Atmospheric section of the Daily Prophet had promised the weather would be mild. He wasn't completely soaked, because he'd managed to get a Shield Charm up before the rain really got going, but his shoes were a total loss and his trousers were muddy and wet halfway to his knees.
"Runs off to watch some Muggle bint get married when he doesn't even like her, and leaves me to rot in bloody Hogsmeade when it's pissing it down."
He spotted a pair of hags waddling up the walk, likely headed for the Hog's Head; he ducked into the shadows cast by the low sweep of Scrivenshaft's roof, reciting the ingredients for a Babbling Beverage forward and back as he waited for them to pass.
"Tosspot," Sirius muttered, once the hags disappeared around the bend.
Sirius chased a pack of Crups from under the bushes alongside Gladrags, and silenced a squeaky shutter on Zonko's shopfront window. He investigated a strange noise behind Honeydukes, which turned out to be a rubbish bin rattling back and forth between the building and a tree, then broke into Honeyduke's back room long enough to put a Caterwauling Charm on the secret passage back to Hogwarts.
He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to break into an empty school, but Death Eaters were usually both stupid and unpredictable, which was never a good combination.
"I hope he's having a lousy time," Sirius said, as he stumbled over a rock, slipped in the mud, and nearly fell arse over tea kettle. "I hope the food is terrible and his Muggle clothes are uncomfortable, and I hope Lily makes him dance with Petunia."
---
"Well, what have those other two boys been up to, then?" Rosmerta asked, leaning back against the counter behind the bar. She'd taken the pins out of her hair, and it now fell softly around her face and shoulders. "I haven't seen either of them since you all finished school."
"Peter works during the week," Sirius said, his fork halfway to his mouth. Whatever Aberforth had brought over, Rosmerta had turned it into pork roast with mushrooms and onions, and Sirius couldn't seem to eat it fast enough. "He got a job a the Ministry a few months ago."
"Oh, that sounds nice."
"It isn't much. He mainly sorts the post and takes Floo messages." Sirius shrugged and crunched into an onion. "I suppose it's better than working the till at Quality Quidditch."
Rosmerta poured herself a cup of tea, waving the steam away as she added a lump of sugar. "What about Remus, then?"
"Remus is... um." Sirius sipped the Firewhisky Rosmerta had just poured him, and tried to think of something to tell her besides mostly he's a lazy sod of a werewolf who sleeps on my couch in his pants and leaves empty crisp packets everywhere, unless Dumbledore has him running errands in the middle of the night. "He's been travelling."
"Travelling," Rosmerta murmured, almost wistfully. "I haven't been travelling in ages. I haven't had time, with this place to worry about." She sipped her tea, wrinkled her nose, and added another lump of sugar. "And what about you?"
Sirius sat back in his chair, pushing his empty plate away. "I'm not working, or anything. My uncle left me a bit, and I've been living on that."
"I meant tonight." She took a long sip of tea and set it aside, then leaned in a little, propping her elbows on the bar. The fire was starting to die again, and the weak light darkened her hair into something close to brown. "What brought you in here tonight?"
"Oh, you know," he said, drumming his fingers on his knee. The Order was still mostly a secret; he wasn't allowed to discuss it with anyone who wasn't a member. "I was just in the neighbourhood."
"In this weather?"
"Well, it wasn't raining when I got here."
She studied him for a moment, her head tilted to the side. She was still as pretty as she'd been when Sirius was still in school -- when he'd been thirteen and nervous, unsure of what to say to her, nearly seventeen and a little braver, smiling as he'd tried to talk her into selling him something restricted before his birthday.
"I appreciate what you boys are doing," she said finally.
"I don't know what you mean," Sirius muttered, mostly to his Firewhisky.
"I'll just bet." She straightened up with a sigh, untying her apron and switching off the Wireless. "All the same, I appreciate it."
Sirius dug his wand from his pocket and cast a Heating Charm on his cloak. "You closing up, then?"
"In another few minutes, I guess," Rosmerta replied, yawning quietly. The pub was completely empty now; she had evidently chivvied Barnabas upstairs while Sirius had been fighting with a rubbish bin in the pouring rain. "I suppose you need to take another walk."
"I might, yeah."
"There's nobody in number five... it's the first room at the top of the stairs," she said, patting his cheek. "The Charm for the back door is Aperius."
---
The rain hadn't stopped yet, but it was lighter than it had been earlier, and the sky looked like it might clear up by morning. Sirius cast another Shield Charm, huddling as close to the buildings as he could, and did his best to avoid the huge puddles of muddy water spreading across the alleys. He'd had just enough to drink that he was warmer inside than out; he whistled as he walked toward Dervish & Banges, laughing when one of the Crups he'd evicted earlier chased him from Honeydukes to Gladrags.
He turned down the walk that led to the Hog's Head. It was darker and muddier down that way, and he found Aberforth smoking his pipe on a sagging, wooden bench just up from the pub.
"They got you doing the rounds tonight?" Aberforth grunted, a bluish cloud of smoke hanging around his face.
Sirius nodded, leaning back against a streetlamp that was terribly dim and seemed to be buzzing softly. "Lovely weather for it."
"You should've been here last night. Cats and dogs," Aberforth said, the bench creaking mournfully as he leaned his elbows on his knees. "Your friend Potter went up to the Shrieking Shack, and he was gone so long I started to think he'd drowned."
"He was probably having a kip, the useless oik."
Aberforth frowned at him, the pipe drooping from the corner of his mouth. "I got things in hand down this way, lad. Left a few surprises for anybody thinking to make trouble," he said, getting to his feet. He tapped the streetlamp with his wand, just above Sirius' shoulder; it stopped buzzing immediately. "You just keep an eye on Rosie for me."
Sirius headed back to the Three Broomsticks; he found the Crup waiting for him where the two streets met, and he diverted it by throwing a stick up toward Puddifoots. He tried the front and back doors of all the shops, closed a slightly open window alongside the apothecary, and checked on the recalcitrant rubbish bin behind Honeydukes. The Caterwauling Charm was still in order, and the rain had finally died down to a drizzle.
"Bloody James," Sirius said, frowning at the huge, crooked shadow of the Shrieking Shack. It seemed awfully far away. "I hope Lily got naffed off at you and she pushed you into the cake."
---
The Broomsticks was dark by the time Sirius returned, one lantern flickering softly above the back door. He crept down the hallway, his footsteps loud in the stillness, and he paused near the storage cupboard as he tried to remember which room Rosmerta had said he could use. He heard a creaky, shuffling noise and reached for his wand, nearly dropping it when she melted out of the shadows at the foot of the stairs. He wasn't expecting her to still be awake.
He also wasn't expecting her to kiss him, but he wasn't going to complain about it.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, when he pushed her back against the wall and slipped his hand under her jumper. "I probably shouldn't have done that."
"I don't mind so much," he said, dragging his mouth over her cheek, her jaw. "I was planning on having a filthy dream about you anyway."
She laughed softly, tipped her head back as he kissed her throat. "Still as incorrigible as ever."
Sirius kissed her again, sliding his tongue into her mouth, and brushed his hand up her side, over the curve of her breast. She sighed into it, skimming her hands up his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his neck. She tasted like the glass of wine she'd poured herself just as Sirius had left for his patrol, heady and tart, and she pressed closer when his cock nudged her hip, arching against him, her breath hitching and her fingers curling in his hair.
He pushed her skirt up to her waist and Banished her knickers, then trailed his fingers over the line of her hip and down the crease of her thigh. Her cunt was hot and slick, impossibly wet, and she shifted closer when he dipped his fingers inside her, hooked her leg around his when he circled his thumb over her clit. He bit the skin below her ear, sucked a wet bruise into the hollow of her throat. She tugged at his flies, smiling against his cheek when he moaned and pushed into her hand, and he lifted her, bracing her back against the wall, and entered her in one smooth thrust.
The hallway was quiet; he could hear his heart beating, the way her breath caught when his fingers dug into her hips, the low, restless noises she made each time he pulled out and slid back in. She pushed her hands under his shirt, dragging her fingernails down his back, and she kissed him hard, nipping at his lip. He wanted to touch her, feel where his cock was thrusting into her cunt, rub her clit until she gasped and arched and shuddered around him; he let go of her just long enough to pull her hand between her legs, and he leaned back just enough to watch her, to see her bring herself off as he fucked her.
She finished just before he did, her hips twisting and her thighs shaking and her cunt tightening around him. He moaned and kissed her, thrusting into her hard and fast, coming with her tongue in his mouth and her hand in his hair.
---
The room Rosmerta gave him was darker than the hallway, but it looked cozy enough in the weak glow from Sirius' wand, with a wardrobe and a washstand and a soft, deep sleigh bed tucked underneath a window.
"Well, goodnight," Rosmerta said, her mouth curving with a wicked smile.
Sirius leaned against the lintel, folding his arms across his chest. "You're not expecting me to sleep alone, are you?"
"Oh, a big, strong man like you?" she countered, patting his shoulder. "You'll do fine."
"I'll have nightmares."
"There are potions for that, you know."
"I was hoping we could try that again," Sirius said, catching her wrist and tugging her closer. The mark he'd left on her neck was the colour of a bruise. "Naked. Lying down, like."
"At this hour?" she asked, shaking her head. She pulled her hand from his grasp and pinched his side. "I need to sleep, if I'm going to get this pub open in the morning."
Sirius curved his hand over her breast, brushed her nipple with his thumb. "You can sleep after. It'd be a shame to let this bed go to waste."
---
Sirius woke to someone pounding on the door. He yawned and rubbed his hand over his face; he didn't know what time it was, but the stretch of sky peeking through the window was terribly hazy and grey.
"Are you up yet?" Rosmerta asked from the hallway, sounding far more alert than Sirius though was strictly necessary.
"I guess," Sirius replied hoarsely. He was naked and groggy, and the Firewhisky had left his mouth tasting like the inside of a Floo, but he was -- technically -- awake. "Maybe."
Rosmerta made a noise suspiciously close to a snort. "I've a man downstairs asking about a room."
"And?"
"That means I need you out of this one, if you're finished being a layabout."
Sirius opened the door with a sheet wrapped around his waist. Rosmerta was smiling, so he gave her his best leer. "Here I thought you wanted one more for the road."
"Incorrigible," she murmured, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. "I'd have considered it, if you hadn't slept until noon."
"Noon?"
"Yes, noon."
"All right, all right," Sirius mumbled, yawning louder than before. "I don't suppose--"
"Oh, here," she said, sighing and pushing a bottle of Pepperup Potion into his hands. The sheet slipped down past his hip, and she smirked pointedly. "Hurry up, then."
Downstairs, the pub was closer to full than Sirius would've expected, considering that school was still out for the Easter holiday. The Wireless was buzzing louder than the crowd -- a few students, a few more shoppers -- and Barnabas was at his usual stool, his head already starting to droop into his sherry. The curtains were pulled open at the shopfront windows; it was raining again, a bit lighter than it had been last night.
"Wotcher, Black," Caradoc Dearborn said, hailing Sirius with an enormous mug of tea. He had a plate of fish and chips in front of him, and he smiled as Sirius approached, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "You had last night's patrol, then?"
Sirius nodded and helped himself to a few chips. "Yeah."
"I've got it tonight... something about Potter having a dancing accident," Caradoc said. He sounded vaguely unhappy, not that Sirius blamed him. "I've never done Hogsmeade before. I've heard it's dead boring."
"It's not so bad, really," Sirius said, glancing at Rosmerta. She winked at him as she poured Barnabas another drink. "Just mind the Crups and the rubbish bins, and you'll do all right."
---
"Well, you must want something," Sirius complained, when -- less than an hour after he got back to his flat -- Remus' head appeared in his Floo.
"What makes you say that?" Remus asked.
"Because you lot only come around to beg favours and eat my apology biscuits," Sirius said, wagging a finger accusingly. "Have you heard anything about a dancing accident?"
Remus sighed, his mouth twitching slightly. "Only what Peter told me this morning, and he didn't have the whole story. Something about two left feet and a table of canapés."
"Oh. My money was on the cake."
"Padfoot, it's after one o'clock," Remus said, frowning as sharply as a disembodied green head could manage. "Shouldn't you be dressed?"
Sirius glanced down at himself; he was sitting on his couch in his pants, eating ice cream straight out of the container, and he wasn't fussed about it, either. If Remus didn't like it, he could stick his head in someone else's Floo. "What do you want, Moony?"
"Well, I need a favour."
"Of course you do."
"I'm kind of in the middle of something, and I might need to stay where I am for a few more days," Remus said. He sounded tired and somewhat waterlogged, like he'd spent the night searching for a dark artefact in a peat bog. "The thing is... I've got patrol duty on Tuesday."
"Where?"
"Hogsmeade."
"Yeah, all right," Sirius said, biting back a smile. "I'll do it."
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Author/Artist: ???
Title: One More for the Road
Rating: R
Pairings: Sirius/Rosmerta
Word Count: 5,100
Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View): *None*.
Summary: In which James can't dance, the apology biscuits aren't safe, and Sirius gets roped into an Order mission he doesn't want, but it turns out to be less boring than he feared.
Author's/Artist's Notes: Thanks to G for the beta, and to the incomparable Beth, who was incredibly patient with my tardiness.
"Hey, Padfoot," James said seriously, his hands curled on the windowsill, his hair freshly washed and just starting to riot, "I need a favour."
"Of course you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't be standing on my fire escape at half six," Sirius said, a piece of slightly burnt toast halfway to his mouth. He floated the kettle over to the stove, tapping his bare foot on the faded kitchen lino. "Why are you on the fire escape, anyway? I told you the other day I got the Floo sorted."
"You said that the last time, and Peter ended up in some Muggle's wine cellar," James pointed out.
Sirius waved this off as irrelevant. "Peter just mumbles, is all. These older buildings can't be having with mumblers." He leaned back against the sideboard and popped the last bit of toast into his mouth. "Come inside at least, will you? Mrs Abernathy upstairs already thinks I'm off my box without you skulking around my window like a speccy thief."
"You are off your box."
"Wanker. Get in here."
"I really can't just now. I'm meant to meet Longbottom in fifteen minutes," James said, his broom tucked under his arm. "Lily finally found that grimoire Dumbledore's been wanting, but it's sealed with a spell I don't recognise. Longbottom said he'd take a look at it for me, if I catch him before he starts his shift at the Ministry." He frowned at the interior of Sirius' flat -- the laundry piled on a chair, the stack of dirty dishes threatening to topple into the sink, the sagging and threadbare couch Remus slept on whenever he was in town. "Where's Moony, then?"
"Haven't the foggiest," Sirius said, scratching his side. He was still hungry, but that toast had been the last of the bread, and there wasn't anything in the Muggle refrigerator Lily had given him but Butterbeer, two tins of tomatoes, and a carton of take-away so old it was likely sentient. "He took off a couple days ago without a word. Order business, I guess." He shrugged. "I figure he was headed somewhere soggy and wet -- he made off with my best Wellingtons and that cranky old brolly of his."
"Oh." James shifted a little, causing the fire escape to creak alarmingly, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Just, that favour... I was going to ask him, if you said no."
"Well, get on with it, then. Hurry up and ask me, so I can tell you to piss off."
James huffed under his breath. "You remember Lily's sister, don't you? Petunia?"
"The tall, horse-faced bird at your wedding? Always looked like she just swallowed a tripe flavoured Bertie Botts?"
"Yeah, that's her," James said, ducking his head through the window. The sky was heavy and colourless behind him, the horizon blurry and barely hinting at purple. "She's getting married this week."
Sirius yawned into the back of his hand. "Bully for her, then. Give me the bloke's name and I'll owl him my condolences."
"Oh, this fellow is a prize, all right. Worse than Petunia, if you can imagine."
"That's brilliant, really. Just brilliant," Sirius mumbled, sighing loudly and rubbing his eyes. "What's it got to do with you waking me up at arse o'clock in the morning?"
"Well, the thing is--"
"I was having the best dream right before you showed up," Sirius continued, frowning as the kettle began to whistle softly. He'd forgotten he'd put it on. "I was trapped in a blizzard with the Holyhead Harpies. All of them, Prongs, and they were rather--"
"Shut it, will you? Hearing the rude bits this early will only put me off my breakfast."
"Okay, then. I'll just be going back to bed." Sirius silenced the kettle with a lazy wave of his wand. "Maybe I can still catch two or three of those girls before they tunnel through that snowdrift."
"Sirius."
"All right, all right. Get on with it."
"We're leaving this morning, as soon as I'm done with Longbottom," James explained, tapping his fingers on the windowsill. "Lily needs to be there a couple of days early, so she can help Petunia with... well, I don't know, really. Bloody flower arrangements, and that." He frowned slightly and tugged on his fringe. "Only, I've got patrol duty tonight, in Hogsmeade."
Sirius snorted rudely. "Not a chance."
"Padfoot."
"Absolutely not," Sirius grumbled, his arms folded across his chest. Patrol duty wasn't a terrible Order assignment -- it was better than chasing Death Eaters through fens, or digging dark artefacts from people's attics -- but it was long hours, and Hogsmeade would be dead boring now that school was out for the Easter holiday. "I just did two weeks in Dovetown."
"C'mon, be a mate. It's just one night," James said hopefully, his teeth creasing his lower lip. "Lily will peel me like a shrivelfig if I leave her with Petunia's barmy Muggle friends."
"Yeah, all right. I'll do it, if it means you'll bugger off and let me go back to sleep."
James flashed Sirius a wide, crooked smile. "Thanks, Sirius. I mean it."
"If you really mean it, you'll have Lily cook me a spot of real food when you get back," Sirius barked, as James started to mount his broom. "I'd rather jump out the window than eat another Pot Noodle."
---
"Well, it could be worse," Peter said thoughtfully. He was perched on top of the sideboard, swinging his legs as he ate one of the ginger biscuits Lily had owled Sirius as an apology. "It could be Dovetown again."
Sirius stopped digging through his laundry heap long enough to shoot Peter a dirty look. "Don't remind me." Most of Dovetown's residents were well over ninety; they all turned in for the night as soon as the sun started to set, and there wasn't a decent inn or pub for miles in any direction. "I nearly went batty."
"I don't want to hear it, really," Peter said, his fringe falling in his eyes. "I just came off a week in Ottery St Catchpole."
"Tergeo!" Sirius grumbled, jabbing his wand at the cleanest shirt in the lot. He rather needed to do all his washing, but he couldn't be arsed to do a full set of laundry spells just to hang around the dirty alley behind Scrivenshaft's. "How bad was it, then? Did you get lost in that overgrown cornfield the Weasley's call a back garden?"
Peter shrugged and bit into another biscuit. "The last night was all right, I guess. I read the latest Martin Miggs in Arthur's garage."
"Wormtail, you're meant to patrol on patrol duty."
"It was raining," Peter said dismissively, waving Sirius off. "Besides, there isn't much else out there, just the Diggorys and the Lovegoods. The Diggorys were in the Torremolinos, and the Lovegoods are... well, you know how Xeno is."
"Not recently, no," Sirius said, Summoning his shoes from under the couch. Lovegood's final year at Hogwarts had been Sirius' first; Sirius hadn't seen him in ages, and the last time he'd been wearing a plumed helmet the exact colour of a satsuma. "Still mad as a box of frogs, then?"
"Always will be," Peter replied brightly. "I figured his place was already well protected, between the Erumpent horn talismans and the feral dirigible grass." He finished his biscuit and promptly reached for another. "So, Hogsmeade, then?"
"I should've been there ten minutes ago, but I can't get you out of my kitchen." Sirius pulled his shirt over his head and tied his shoes with a muttered Charm. "I do hope you're enjoying my biscuits."
The sideboard creaked mournfully as Peter slid to his feet. "I'd be enjoying them more if they were chocolate," he said, dusting crumbs from the front of his robe. "I've got a Martin Miggs with me, if you want it."
"I'll be all right," Sirius said, shaking his head. "The Broomsticks should be open. I'll just pop in there for a drink or two."
"Padfoot, you're meant to patrol on patrol duty," Peter said drily.
"Oh, get out, will you? I'm running late as it is."
---
Sirius Apparated into the alley behind the Three Broomsticks, and was promptly greeted by a wave of cold, soapy water.
He cursed and sputtered and coughed, blinking and rubbing his eyes. His hair was drenched and water was pooling in the collar of his shirt. He heard someone gasp as he spat soap from his mouth; when he looked up he found Madam Rosmerta standing at the Broomstick's back door, her wand in one hand and an empty bucket in the other. The light from inside the pub was yellowish, too bright, and her mouth was twitching in a way Sirius rather didn't appreciate.
"Sirius Black, is that you?" she asked, taking a few steps toward him. She tilted her head and squinted against the shadows around him. "Well, didn't you grow up into a bit of all right?"
"I might have," he grumbled. He pushed a handful of wet hair from his face and tried to wring out the tails of his shirt; the dirt under his feet was quickly turning into mud. "I'm chuffed you came out here just to toss your dishwater at me."
"Still as polite as ever," she murmured, just loud enough for Sirius to hear. She Banished the bucket with a sigh, then frowned at him for a moment, her hands settling at her hips. "Let's get you inside, then."
"I'm sopping!"
"Merlin's beard. Here I thought you did seven years at a school for magic," she said, waving her wand. "Siccous!"
Sirius' clothes shivered and twisted as the water spun away; he hissed as his collar tried to choke him. "You're the one doing your washing up like a Muggle."
"The glasses streak less when I do them by hand," she explained, turning back toward the Broomsticks. "Close the door behind you, there's a good lad."
Sirius huffed under his breath and followed her inside.
---
"There you are, love," Rosmerta said, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of Sirius. "That'll warm you up." She dropped two fingers of Firewhisky into an separate glass and pushed it toward him with a sigh. "So will that, since you probably won't touch the tea."
Sirius did touch it, cradling the cup to take the chill off his hands. The Broomsticks was empty, except for an ancient fellow named Barnabas who'd been asleep at the end of the bar nearest the bog since Sirius' second year at school; the fire was starting to burn low, and the Wireless was barely a muted buzz. Rosmerta kept busy behind the bar, humming as she stacked glasses on the shelves and wiped down everything in sight with a damp rag.
"You must be about closed," Sirius said.
"Oh, I might give it another two hours," she said, replacing the cork on a dusty bottle of Mandrake vodka. Her robe was hanging open; underneath she wore a soft green jumper and a skirt that hugged her curves as it fell to her knees. "Barnabas will want another drink if he ever wakes up, and Aberforth might stop in, looking for a spot of supper."
"Aberforth?" Sirius took a sip of Firewhisky, gritting his teeth as it burned his throat. "No food at the Hog's Head, then?"
Rosmerta laughed softly. "Wouldn't do him any good if there was. Can't cook at wandpoint, bless him." She cleaned off the rag with a Charm and dropped it somewhere behind the bar. "He shows up here every so often with a bit of meat or a sack of potatoes, and I turn it into enough stew to last him a few days."
The fire died with a few pops and a soft hiss; Rosmerta waved her wand at it, mostly bringing it back to life.
"So," Rosmerta said, her mouth curving with a smile, "I hear your friend James finally tricked that Evans girl into marrying him."
"Here, I'm pretty sure she tricked him," Sirius said, taking another sip of Firewhisky. He chased away the sour tang with some tea, which was still hot enough to make the skin above his lip break into a sweat. "Something about three meals a day and foot rubs before bed. I told him he was daft to consider it, but you know James." He shrugged and blew on his tea. "He didn't listen to me when I told him not to put Chizpurfles in McGonagall's tartan hat, either."
"The way those two bickered their fourth and fifth year," she said, shaking her head, "I never would've thought it."
"Oh, they do all right," Sirius admitted, smiling a little. "At least, they seemed to have a system worked out. He does whatever she says, and she doesn't really aim when she's throwing things at his head." Rosmerta huffed, favouring him with a sharp look, and Sirius snorted. "Honestly, she's a good bird. The best. She's having a sprog in a few months -- James is so proud of himself, he hasn't been fit to live with."
"Well, let's hope the baby has her hair," Rosmerta said, tipping more Firewhisky into his glass. "James' hair never met a Brushing Charm it couldn't ignore."
Sirius laughed at that, loudly enough that it roused Barnabas from his stupor. He glared murderously at Sirius, his bleary eyes half-open, then grunted at Rosmerta and flapped his hand in her general direction.
"It's about time you went upstairs for the night," Rosmerta told him, splashing what looked like sherry into the teacup in his hands. The Broomsticks only had four or five rooms; as far as Sirius knew, they'd been let by the same people for close to twenty years. "If you fall into the storage cupboard again, I'll leave you there to sleep it off."
There was a sudden, rattling bang at the rear of the pub, like someone was hammering on the back door. Sirius reached for his wand, but Rosmerta waved him off.
"That'll be Aberforth," she said, wiping her hands on the apron tied over her skirt.
"All right." Sirius pushed away from the bar and reached for his cloak. He hadn't done any patrolling yet; he might as well get on with it, before Aberforth caught him drinking and flirting, instead of snooping around keyholes, or whatever it was he was meant to be doing, and complained about it like a girl's blouse at the next Order meeting. "You can get him sorted if you want. I fancy taking a walk."
"One more for the road?" Rosmerta asked, nodding her head at his nearly empty glass.
Sirius smiled. "I'll be back for it."
---
"Bloody James Potter," Sirius growled, as he squelched past Dervish & Banges.
It had started raining as soon as Sirius reached the Owl Post Office, a proper Scottish rain that shook the trees and quickly churned all the alleys into sticky rivers of mud. Sirius was freezing to death; he hadn't thought he need a warmer cloak when it the Atmospheric section of the Daily Prophet had promised the weather would be mild. He wasn't completely soaked, because he'd managed to get a Shield Charm up before the rain really got going, but his shoes were a total loss and his trousers were muddy and wet halfway to his knees.
"Runs off to watch some Muggle bint get married when he doesn't even like her, and leaves me to rot in bloody Hogsmeade when it's pissing it down."
He spotted a pair of hags waddling up the walk, likely headed for the Hog's Head; he ducked into the shadows cast by the low sweep of Scrivenshaft's roof, reciting the ingredients for a Babbling Beverage forward and back as he waited for them to pass.
"Tosspot," Sirius muttered, once the hags disappeared around the bend.
Sirius chased a pack of Crups from under the bushes alongside Gladrags, and silenced a squeaky shutter on Zonko's shopfront window. He investigated a strange noise behind Honeydukes, which turned out to be a rubbish bin rattling back and forth between the building and a tree, then broke into Honeyduke's back room long enough to put a Caterwauling Charm on the secret passage back to Hogwarts.
He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to break into an empty school, but Death Eaters were usually both stupid and unpredictable, which was never a good combination.
"I hope he's having a lousy time," Sirius said, as he stumbled over a rock, slipped in the mud, and nearly fell arse over tea kettle. "I hope the food is terrible and his Muggle clothes are uncomfortable, and I hope Lily makes him dance with Petunia."
---
"Well, what have those other two boys been up to, then?" Rosmerta asked, leaning back against the counter behind the bar. She'd taken the pins out of her hair, and it now fell softly around her face and shoulders. "I haven't seen either of them since you all finished school."
"Peter works during the week," Sirius said, his fork halfway to his mouth. Whatever Aberforth had brought over, Rosmerta had turned it into pork roast with mushrooms and onions, and Sirius couldn't seem to eat it fast enough. "He got a job a the Ministry a few months ago."
"Oh, that sounds nice."
"It isn't much. He mainly sorts the post and takes Floo messages." Sirius shrugged and crunched into an onion. "I suppose it's better than working the till at Quality Quidditch."
Rosmerta poured herself a cup of tea, waving the steam away as she added a lump of sugar. "What about Remus, then?"
"Remus is... um." Sirius sipped the Firewhisky Rosmerta had just poured him, and tried to think of something to tell her besides mostly he's a lazy sod of a werewolf who sleeps on my couch in his pants and leaves empty crisp packets everywhere, unless Dumbledore has him running errands in the middle of the night. "He's been travelling."
"Travelling," Rosmerta murmured, almost wistfully. "I haven't been travelling in ages. I haven't had time, with this place to worry about." She sipped her tea, wrinkled her nose, and added another lump of sugar. "And what about you?"
Sirius sat back in his chair, pushing his empty plate away. "I'm not working, or anything. My uncle left me a bit, and I've been living on that."
"I meant tonight." She took a long sip of tea and set it aside, then leaned in a little, propping her elbows on the bar. The fire was starting to die again, and the weak light darkened her hair into something close to brown. "What brought you in here tonight?"
"Oh, you know," he said, drumming his fingers on his knee. The Order was still mostly a secret; he wasn't allowed to discuss it with anyone who wasn't a member. "I was just in the neighbourhood."
"In this weather?"
"Well, it wasn't raining when I got here."
She studied him for a moment, her head tilted to the side. She was still as pretty as she'd been when Sirius was still in school -- when he'd been thirteen and nervous, unsure of what to say to her, nearly seventeen and a little braver, smiling as he'd tried to talk her into selling him something restricted before his birthday.
"I appreciate what you boys are doing," she said finally.
"I don't know what you mean," Sirius muttered, mostly to his Firewhisky.
"I'll just bet." She straightened up with a sigh, untying her apron and switching off the Wireless. "All the same, I appreciate it."
Sirius dug his wand from his pocket and cast a Heating Charm on his cloak. "You closing up, then?"
"In another few minutes, I guess," Rosmerta replied, yawning quietly. The pub was completely empty now; she had evidently chivvied Barnabas upstairs while Sirius had been fighting with a rubbish bin in the pouring rain. "I suppose you need to take another walk."
"I might, yeah."
"There's nobody in number five... it's the first room at the top of the stairs," she said, patting his cheek. "The Charm for the back door is Aperius."
---
The rain hadn't stopped yet, but it was lighter than it had been earlier, and the sky looked like it might clear up by morning. Sirius cast another Shield Charm, huddling as close to the buildings as he could, and did his best to avoid the huge puddles of muddy water spreading across the alleys. He'd had just enough to drink that he was warmer inside than out; he whistled as he walked toward Dervish & Banges, laughing when one of the Crups he'd evicted earlier chased him from Honeydukes to Gladrags.
He turned down the walk that led to the Hog's Head. It was darker and muddier down that way, and he found Aberforth smoking his pipe on a sagging, wooden bench just up from the pub.
"They got you doing the rounds tonight?" Aberforth grunted, a bluish cloud of smoke hanging around his face.
Sirius nodded, leaning back against a streetlamp that was terribly dim and seemed to be buzzing softly. "Lovely weather for it."
"You should've been here last night. Cats and dogs," Aberforth said, the bench creaking mournfully as he leaned his elbows on his knees. "Your friend Potter went up to the Shrieking Shack, and he was gone so long I started to think he'd drowned."
"He was probably having a kip, the useless oik."
Aberforth frowned at him, the pipe drooping from the corner of his mouth. "I got things in hand down this way, lad. Left a few surprises for anybody thinking to make trouble," he said, getting to his feet. He tapped the streetlamp with his wand, just above Sirius' shoulder; it stopped buzzing immediately. "You just keep an eye on Rosie for me."
Sirius headed back to the Three Broomsticks; he found the Crup waiting for him where the two streets met, and he diverted it by throwing a stick up toward Puddifoots. He tried the front and back doors of all the shops, closed a slightly open window alongside the apothecary, and checked on the recalcitrant rubbish bin behind Honeydukes. The Caterwauling Charm was still in order, and the rain had finally died down to a drizzle.
"Bloody James," Sirius said, frowning at the huge, crooked shadow of the Shrieking Shack. It seemed awfully far away. "I hope Lily got naffed off at you and she pushed you into the cake."
---
The Broomsticks was dark by the time Sirius returned, one lantern flickering softly above the back door. He crept down the hallway, his footsteps loud in the stillness, and he paused near the storage cupboard as he tried to remember which room Rosmerta had said he could use. He heard a creaky, shuffling noise and reached for his wand, nearly dropping it when she melted out of the shadows at the foot of the stairs. He wasn't expecting her to still be awake.
He also wasn't expecting her to kiss him, but he wasn't going to complain about it.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, when he pushed her back against the wall and slipped his hand under her jumper. "I probably shouldn't have done that."
"I don't mind so much," he said, dragging his mouth over her cheek, her jaw. "I was planning on having a filthy dream about you anyway."
She laughed softly, tipped her head back as he kissed her throat. "Still as incorrigible as ever."
Sirius kissed her again, sliding his tongue into her mouth, and brushed his hand up her side, over the curve of her breast. She sighed into it, skimming her hands up his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his neck. She tasted like the glass of wine she'd poured herself just as Sirius had left for his patrol, heady and tart, and she pressed closer when his cock nudged her hip, arching against him, her breath hitching and her fingers curling in his hair.
He pushed her skirt up to her waist and Banished her knickers, then trailed his fingers over the line of her hip and down the crease of her thigh. Her cunt was hot and slick, impossibly wet, and she shifted closer when he dipped his fingers inside her, hooked her leg around his when he circled his thumb over her clit. He bit the skin below her ear, sucked a wet bruise into the hollow of her throat. She tugged at his flies, smiling against his cheek when he moaned and pushed into her hand, and he lifted her, bracing her back against the wall, and entered her in one smooth thrust.
The hallway was quiet; he could hear his heart beating, the way her breath caught when his fingers dug into her hips, the low, restless noises she made each time he pulled out and slid back in. She pushed her hands under his shirt, dragging her fingernails down his back, and she kissed him hard, nipping at his lip. He wanted to touch her, feel where his cock was thrusting into her cunt, rub her clit until she gasped and arched and shuddered around him; he let go of her just long enough to pull her hand between her legs, and he leaned back just enough to watch her, to see her bring herself off as he fucked her.
She finished just before he did, her hips twisting and her thighs shaking and her cunt tightening around him. He moaned and kissed her, thrusting into her hard and fast, coming with her tongue in his mouth and her hand in his hair.
---
The room Rosmerta gave him was darker than the hallway, but it looked cozy enough in the weak glow from Sirius' wand, with a wardrobe and a washstand and a soft, deep sleigh bed tucked underneath a window.
"Well, goodnight," Rosmerta said, her mouth curving with a wicked smile.
Sirius leaned against the lintel, folding his arms across his chest. "You're not expecting me to sleep alone, are you?"
"Oh, a big, strong man like you?" she countered, patting his shoulder. "You'll do fine."
"I'll have nightmares."
"There are potions for that, you know."
"I was hoping we could try that again," Sirius said, catching her wrist and tugging her closer. The mark he'd left on her neck was the colour of a bruise. "Naked. Lying down, like."
"At this hour?" she asked, shaking her head. She pulled her hand from his grasp and pinched his side. "I need to sleep, if I'm going to get this pub open in the morning."
Sirius curved his hand over her breast, brushed her nipple with his thumb. "You can sleep after. It'd be a shame to let this bed go to waste."
---
Sirius woke to someone pounding on the door. He yawned and rubbed his hand over his face; he didn't know what time it was, but the stretch of sky peeking through the window was terribly hazy and grey.
"Are you up yet?" Rosmerta asked from the hallway, sounding far more alert than Sirius though was strictly necessary.
"I guess," Sirius replied hoarsely. He was naked and groggy, and the Firewhisky had left his mouth tasting like the inside of a Floo, but he was -- technically -- awake. "Maybe."
Rosmerta made a noise suspiciously close to a snort. "I've a man downstairs asking about a room."
"And?"
"That means I need you out of this one, if you're finished being a layabout."
Sirius opened the door with a sheet wrapped around his waist. Rosmerta was smiling, so he gave her his best leer. "Here I thought you wanted one more for the road."
"Incorrigible," she murmured, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. "I'd have considered it, if you hadn't slept until noon."
"Noon?"
"Yes, noon."
"All right, all right," Sirius mumbled, yawning louder than before. "I don't suppose--"
"Oh, here," she said, sighing and pushing a bottle of Pepperup Potion into his hands. The sheet slipped down past his hip, and she smirked pointedly. "Hurry up, then."
Downstairs, the pub was closer to full than Sirius would've expected, considering that school was still out for the Easter holiday. The Wireless was buzzing louder than the crowd -- a few students, a few more shoppers -- and Barnabas was at his usual stool, his head already starting to droop into his sherry. The curtains were pulled open at the shopfront windows; it was raining again, a bit lighter than it had been last night.
"Wotcher, Black," Caradoc Dearborn said, hailing Sirius with an enormous mug of tea. He had a plate of fish and chips in front of him, and he smiled as Sirius approached, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "You had last night's patrol, then?"
Sirius nodded and helped himself to a few chips. "Yeah."
"I've got it tonight... something about Potter having a dancing accident," Caradoc said. He sounded vaguely unhappy, not that Sirius blamed him. "I've never done Hogsmeade before. I've heard it's dead boring."
"It's not so bad, really," Sirius said, glancing at Rosmerta. She winked at him as she poured Barnabas another drink. "Just mind the Crups and the rubbish bins, and you'll do all right."
---
"Well, you must want something," Sirius complained, when -- less than an hour after he got back to his flat -- Remus' head appeared in his Floo.
"What makes you say that?" Remus asked.
"Because you lot only come around to beg favours and eat my apology biscuits," Sirius said, wagging a finger accusingly. "Have you heard anything about a dancing accident?"
Remus sighed, his mouth twitching slightly. "Only what Peter told me this morning, and he didn't have the whole story. Something about two left feet and a table of canapés."
"Oh. My money was on the cake."
"Padfoot, it's after one o'clock," Remus said, frowning as sharply as a disembodied green head could manage. "Shouldn't you be dressed?"
Sirius glanced down at himself; he was sitting on his couch in his pants, eating ice cream straight out of the container, and he wasn't fussed about it, either. If Remus didn't like it, he could stick his head in someone else's Floo. "What do you want, Moony?"
"Well, I need a favour."
"Of course you do."
"I'm kind of in the middle of something, and I might need to stay where I am for a few more days," Remus said. He sounded tired and somewhat waterlogged, like he'd spent the night searching for a dark artefact in a peat bog. "The thing is... I've got patrol duty on Tuesday."
"Where?"
"Hogsmeade."
"Yeah, all right," Sirius said, biting back a smile. "I'll do it."
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