Chapter Text
Sirius awoke with a start.
What the f –
Having stared at the ceiling of his London flat for nearly a minute, he finally decided that, yes, this was actually where he was. He was not in the Shrieking Shack, it wasn’t 1977, and he was – he checked.
Yes. He was alone in his bed.
And yet, mere seconds ago, he had still felt warm skin shivering under his touch. On his lips, the taste of another’s lips, and in his ear, the sighs and moans of –
“Bloody hell,” he said quietly.
It had just been a dream. An extremely vivid dream about someone he had never, as far as he remembered, dreamt about in this manner.
Hazily, he thought he would remain in this half-dreamlike state for a few more moments, because once he thought about it too much, his conscience would tell him to stop. And this erection wasn’t going to take care of itself.
“Morning, Sirius.”
“Morning, Kate.”
“You all right?”
He paused in the act of unlocking the kitchen and looked back to where she stood by the bar, cleaning glasses.
“I’m fine, why?” he lied.
“I dunno, you look... different. Oi, did you score last night?” She grinned. “That blond one finally win you over?”
“Shut up.” He grinned. “Anyway, you’d know. Don’t tell me you didn’t check your crystal ball before going to bed.”
She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled, advancing into the kitchen. It was a private joke between them – well, more of a private joke for himself, really: Kate, the Muggle who worked for him in his Camden café-slash-bistro, was a witch, could read minds, used magic to do the cleaning and what have you. Sirius claimed that this was the only failsafe way she would never suspect that he was actually the one with the magic, although Remus had said –
He paused, staring absent-mindedly at the huge pile of dishes in the sink that hadn’t fit into the machine last night.
Remus. Blimey.
“Hi, Harry! Sure, he’s in the back, go right through!” Sirius heard Kate trill. He’d always suspected she had a bit of a soft spot for his godson.
He smiled at Harry as he entered the kitchen and gave him a one-armed hug, his other hand firmly occupied stirring the bechamel sauce. “Hey you. Got some time off from the drudge factory at last?”
Harry shrugged. “Not really, I just took it. Been a while since I’ve been over for lunch.”
“That it has,” Sirius agreed. “But I don’t mind, honestly. I hear the Ministry canteen is really good, too. Three different master chefs from three different countries, was it?”
“Oh shut up,” Harry grinned. “You know it’s a bit of a ride from Whitehall. I just haven’t got round to logging off for two hours, that’s all.”
“Ride? You took the Tube?” Sirius inquired over his shoulder while he spread the bechamel over the last layer of lasagne.
“Well, I figured if I’m going to visit the ‘man who’s turned his back on the magical community’...”
“Ugh. Can’t you do something about the Daily Prophet? Can’t Kingsley get them to hire someone more sensible?”
Harry laughed. “Sure, if you want us to live in a police state...”
They lapsed into silence when Paolo arrived, half an hour late as usual, and Sirius explained the various goings-on in the pots and the ovens, and Paolo nodded, looking contrite, and took over.
“You’re good to that one,” Harry commented as they sat in Sirius’ favourite secluded corner, looking out at the rain hammering against the west window, warming themselves with a cup of tea.
Sirius shrugged. “He’s a fantastic cook. And he’s got three kids at home.”
“Fair enough.”
They discussed Harry’s employees for a bit –Balthazar Barrentree cropped up, as usual –, then had a good laugh about the recent Prophet feature which had been thinly disguised as a café recommendation and was actually a portrait of Sirius Black, misunderstood, wrongly convicted, and somehow incredibly sexy in his refusal to associate with the wizarding community.
“Or that’s what Ginny said, anyway,” Harry shrugged. “Apparently that particular reporter only ever writes portraits about men she fancies.”
“Great.” Sirius grimaced. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, though. Do people really think I’ve turned my back on the wizarding world? I mean, it’s not as though I don’t use magic anymore, or don’t associate with any wizards whatsoever.” He shrugged. “I’m just not terribly keen on, well. All of that.”
Harry nodded. He, too, clearly remembered all those post-war debriefings that Sirius had been asked to come to, and the awkward chit-chat with Ministry employees afterwards, some of whom had pretended to have known all along that Sirius had been innocent. And Harry hadn’t even been present at all of them, let alone all those other chance meetings with wizards in the street who wanted to talk about the war, about the Potters, about Peter...
“I dunno about the community,” Harry shrugged. “I guess once the idea is out there, it’s hard to shake off.” He looked at Sirius quizzically over his teacup. “But, you know, they’re not all bad. I think you’d find that all the post-war curiosity has died down quite a bit and people are just eager to get on with their lives.”
“So you’re saying give them another chance.”
“Hey, it’s up to you.” Harry smiled and looked around the café, full at this hour, with a few tourists but mostly locals. “Anyway, I never thought you were doing this to turn your back on us. After all, like Remus said, opening a Muggle café in ‘dodgy Camden’ was exactly what your parents would have hated.”
Sirius smiled and gave a half-assenting shrug, and they were quiet for a while, Sirius’ thoughts straying, not for the first time that day, in an entirely inappropriate direction.
Then, Kate brought the lasagne and the salad, winked at Harry and said “Compliments of the chef,” and Harry chuckled.
“I guess it really is time I wore that wedding ring,” he said, as conversationally as though he was talking about the weather.
“What?” Sirius’ fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Have you picked a date, then?”
“Yup. 22nd of June. And, er, Ron will be best man, but you have to be there, so no shying away from the –” Harry broke off as Paolo passed to deposit salt and pepper on the table and grin at them shyly. “– the wizarding community,” Harry finished in a low voice.
“Harry, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Sirius grinned. “I’ll even wear dress robes.”
“And,” Harry made a show of tasting the food first, then nodded, “We’d like to place a catering order, if that’s all right. Sirius, this is amazing.”
Catering for Harry Potter’s wedding – Sirius had done stranger things.