A/N: I really have no words for this.
Warning: drunk!Sirius, foul language, bad dancing.
It wasn't the ideal situation. Hell, it wasn't even a less-than-ideal situation. This was, quite simply really, a Pads-You-Idiot-What-The-Bloody-Hell-Were-You-Thinking! situation. At least, that's what Prongs had always called situations like this. Honestly, it had seemed like the lesser of two evils at the time what with the being chased down by aurors for some murders that he hadn't committed. Really, what else could he have done besides flee the country? And of course he had to take Prongslet with him. He couldn't rightly leave his godson in that house, could he? No, mini-James was much better off with him. Harry was much safer with him than with those monstrous muggles.
Even if they were on the streets of Las Vegas. With nowhere to go… In October…
…
…
…
Shite.
Alright, Black, time to take this seriously instead of Siriusly. You've got to find somewhere to kip, at least for the night. First things first, find a Gringott's. Or, at the very least, the American equivalent. And then a job. There must be something for a good-looking illegal of twenty-odd years.
Sirius shook himself from thoughts of that first terrifying night and turned back to Harry. "Now—now, Harry," he got off to a rocky start, "I'mma teach you somethin' that I picked up when you were little. Waaaaaaay back, when you were… when you were jus' pup. Less'n a pup, in fact! You was jus' a teeny li'l Prongslet." Sirius would later swear, when Harry brought it up some years into the future, that he wasn't that drunk. He would confess to not remembering how in Merlin's sagging left bollock he managed to set up music and chairs for the "lesson," though.
"Now, watch what—watch me, and… and you try'n copy, alrigh'?" He waited for his godson's nod, before continuing, "Firs', ya gotta dance a little, maybe take off your shirt or somethin'—but you'll figure that out on your own later, jus' wouldn't be right for a man to teach his godson how to strip," Sirius shook his head again and started to sway back and forth.
"Once yeh've—once ya think they've had all they can take o' tha', ya start movin' in closer 'n' closer. Like a panda. Shite! Not a panda, a panther—Harry don't say shite, that's bad—move in like a panther, smooth and in the zone, see?" Sirius crept closer to his appointed chair, sashaying his hips as seductively as the alcohol would allow. "Then, ya jus'—ya jus' sort of sit and wriggle and the like in time with the music. Tha's jus' somethin' else you'll have to pick up for yourself, I think. Tha's all there is to it, really. Tha's all the best strippers and ladies of the night do. They jus' have a li'l more flair from all the practice they get. All the free booze an' cash prolly don't hurt either, if ya know what I mean."
Sirius paused in his way to turn off the stereo system, "Well, I mean—o' course ya don' know what I mean, yet. Ya are only seven—righ', righ'. Seven and a half. Still's no reason for you to know all this, righ' now. You'll learn, 'ventually. I did. O'course, if I hadn't, we'd prolly both be in the streets righ' now. Doin' somethin' e'en worse'n lap dances." Sirius took another swig of vodka and grabbed Harry up in his arms.
"I love you, kid," Sirius didn't slur for the first time since he started his impromptu lesson. He thought about his work and all the kids, sometimes only a few years older than his Harry, that came and went just looking for a way to make a living. He thought about how he had been in that situation less than seven years ago. Thinking about it was what had started his drinking that night at his bar. "I'd do anything for you, Harry, just promise me this. Just promise that you'll try not to have to do what I did, okay?"
A/N: I do apologize for the atrocious drunk!Sirius. And for any improper care of characters.
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