A/N: Hello! So this is the first real multi-chapter fic I have ever attempted. The entire story is written but not typed, so I promise I won't be abandoning it in the middle! It also means that I won't be changing the ending, though I might right a sequel if enough people review. Hint, hint. I'll try to update once every few days, but it depends how much typing and editing I have time for. Enjoy chapter one!
Also, I just wanted to shout-out to Children of Shadows, whose amazing RLSB fanfics inspired this one. If you guys haven't read Momentum yet, you are not a true Remus/Sirius shipper!
Warning: Slash, later.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, JK Rowling does. And this disclaimer counts for the ENTIRE STORY, capisce?
Remus Lupin sighed tiredly as he stepped from the comfort of airport air conditioning into the heat of a Philadelphia summer. It had been a long, tiring flight from England, especially with the kid behind him screaming bloody murder the entire time, and his only desire was to settle into his hotel, take a cold shower, and then fall into the clean sheets and sleep forever. He sighed again when he saw the line of beaten-up Red Top cabs. If there was one thing this city could use it was a decent fleet of taxis.
Dragging his battered old trunk behind him, he knocked on the window of the first cab in line, where the driver was sleeping with a Philly's cap pulled low over his eyes. The man woke with a start and, catching sight of Lupin, hurried out of the car. Lupin opened the car door and scooted inside with a sigh of relief, leaning his head on the headrest behind him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a small smile. The hotel was so close!
A minute later, he opened his eyes again with a frown. The cab driver still wasn't back… what was going on?
"Is there a problem?" he asked, irritation creeping into his voice as he stuck his head out of the open window. The cab driver was staring at his suitcase with a frozen look on his face. When he heard Lupin's voice he started badly and pulled the cap lower over his face.
Lupin couldn't suppress a shiver of anger as this stranger chucked his trunk unceremoniously into the boot and made his way to the driver's seat. If only this stupid cabbie knew what the battered old thing meant to him…
"Well?" said the object of his anger rudely, interrupting Lupin's thoughts. "Where to?"
Lupin looked at the driver curiously before answering. "Mariott hotel on Market Street." He could have sworn the cabbie was trying to mask a British accent. And doing a rather poor job. His curiosity was piqued. After all, he was always looking for a subject for his next book.
"So where are you from?" He asked conversationally. He leaned back contentedly when he felt his driver's glare. One got revenge however one could.
"Rule number seven. Don't distract the driver."
There it was again! Definitely a British accent, and, unless he was quite mistaken, it had the clipped syllables of wealth. The plot thickens…
Lupin wished he could get a good look at the man but his eyes were hidden by his hat, and that was all he could see in the rearview mirror. His clothes were worn and he seemed unusually thin – Lupin guessed that he was a bachelor. The hair and face were hidden from him, and the mystery only intensified his desire to see the man's eyes. Maybe if he could provoke a reaction the man would look up?
"So did your family disown you or did they just run out of money," asked Lupin a few minutes later. He saw the man twitch violently, almost sending the cab veering into another lane. For a moment the man lifted his head and they locked eyes in the rearview mirror.
Grey eyes, deep and cold, searching, hateful, and terrifyingly familiar. Lupin's mouth dropped open as he reeled, head spinning. He suddenly felt nauseous and gasped for air.
"Do I really need to answer that question?" said the driver softly, his eyes still on Lupin. The fake accent was gone and Lupin wondered how he could have gone so long without recognizing the voice. Only one person he had ever met spoke like that…
The driver broke eye contact to return his focus to the road and a moment later Lupin snapped back to reality, his mind whirring furiously to catch up to what was happening.
"When… How… Cabs? Muggles? You?" Lupin's voice was rising in spite of himself. Unable to stop, his voice grew hysterical. "Ten years! Ten years and you were here? Where is he, Sirius? WHERE'S HARRY?"
"We have arrived at your destination, sir. That will be forty dollars. Have a wonderful day," said Sirius loudly, pointedly ignoring his questions. He heaved the suitcase onto the curb, grabbed the money from Lupin's befuddled hands, jumped into the cab and sped away. Lupin stayed in the gutter, watching the taxi weave in and out of traffic before disappearing around city hall.
Sirius Black had re-entered his life with a bang after ten years of silence and exited just as fast, leaving Lupin with a head full of unspoken thoughts and a phone number quickly copied from the inside of the cab.
"Are you okay, Da?" asked Harry, looking up from his Froot Loops at a Sirius who was staring into the distance, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Normally, he would be teasing Harry about some girl at school, or telling him knock-knock jokes from his inexhaustible repertoire. But not today.
Sirius looked down at his godson's worried face and forced a smile. "I'm fine, Harry. Now why don't you finish up your breakfast and I'll take you to camp."
Harry cheered and attacked his cereal, this time drawing a real smile from his godfather. Which faded as visions of a careworn face with graying hair and light blue eyes once again invaded his consciousness.
Lupin. What the hell was he doing in Philadelphia, why was he masquerading as a Muggle, and by what stroke of hateful fate had he gotten in Sirius' taxi? Worst of all, why hadn't Sirius kicked him out as soon as he recognized the suitcase James had given him while they were still in school?
If he were being logical, Sirius would take Harry and run far, far away to another deadbeat city. He would change their names again, repaint his taxi, and find a new apartment at the edge of an acceptable neighborhood. They had fled before and they could do it again.
But if Sirius were being honest with himself he would admit that the sight of Lupin's face after all these years was not all together unwelcome, in spite of the undeniably sour note on which they had parted. This he would never admit, and while he was being dishonest with himself and irrational, he might as well stay put. Harry liked this city so much, and for the first time he had real friends…
Watching him sing to himself as he bounced down the stairs, Sirius could almost pretend he was just like any other eleven-year-old, and not the kidnapping victim of a dangerous and potentially mentally-deranged fugitive.
"Ready, Da!" sang his little voice from the entrance. Sirius stood with a sigh and took their breakfast dishes to the sink. He smiled as he recognized Harry's song – Norwegian Woods by the Beetles. It had been one of his and James' favorites when they were young. James had even played it at his wedding and they had danced together like the carefree, drunken loons that they were. Sirius smiled broadly as he joined Harry in the closing lines, and together they skipped out of the door and into the taxi, laughing and glad to be alive.
Driving down Catherine Street with Harry, windows open and singing like maniacs, Sirius completely forgot about a certain encounter. All that mattered was the here and the now and the beauty of youth and happiness. For an instant, Sirius felt it could last forever – him and Harry singing in the cab. But then he turned the corner and saw the school that housed Harry's day camp, and the weight of grim reality settled back on his sagging shoulders like a comfortable harness.
He was a wanted man who could barely make ends meet, and one day he knew he'd be caught.
Then he would be sent to Azkaban. He only hoped when the day came Harry would be old enough to make his own way in the world – at least Sirius had spared him the pain of spending his formulative years in an orphanage, or worse, with Lily's horrible sister.
As Harry hopped out of the cab and ran to meet his friends without a backwards glance, Sirius' phone rang.
"Eleventh and South," said the voice, "northwest corner," and the person hung up. Sirius sighed and spun the steering wheel, lost in dark thoughts.
He drove the few blocks on autopilot, and when he realized who had placed that call, it was too late to turn back…
Let me know what you think, and if you have a better idea for a title. Leave a review!
