Disclaimer: I am not JKROWLING. I do not own the rights to Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, or Tonks. But I do own the characters I made up.
Chapter 1 – birth in an alley
Once upon a time a handsome man woke up in an alley. He had no recollection of anything other than lying on the somewhat smelly alley floor. He groaned as he sat up, his back cracked and his head pounded. Eventually stumbling towards the light that was the end of the alley he stepped out to life.
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5pm. Somerfield. Work. Ugh.
Sirius blew his shaggy black hair out of his face. He leaned against the padding of the checkout, his legs ached. Fiddling with lighter and his pack of fags he sighed. Today was proving to be quite long. But little did he know that a certain red head was going to make not only his day longer but his whole existence.
In the distance a family of three caught his eyes. They looked like psychos that escaped the renaissance fair. All three wore body length robes that swished right down to their ankles. Sirius understood why they would dress a baby that way but themselves…
He stood leaning against the padding for maybe 47 minutes. When suddenly he heard a distant hello;His eyes snapped open. Before him stood the family of psychos, "Hello, did you find everything you need at somerfield?" He asked like a machine.
"Quite so." cheered the woman.
"Well that's quite excellent… do you happen to have your Somerfield super somer savings card with you today?"
"My what…?"
"Your card…?"
"oh …. Well … no?"
"Shall I enter one for you?" Sirius asked before realizing the woman had been too baffled by the previous questions. He rolled his eyes and entered a card number.
As he began to scan the groceries he noticed the man with red hair staring at him. He was watching Sirius's every move, every motion. 'How creepy' Sirius thought to himself before too looking at the man. There was something vaguely familiar about this stranger. A little startled Sirius began to scan faster making sure not to look at the man again.
"The total of your order is 34 pounds" he chirped. The man and woman exchanged glances, confusion ran between them. Sirius sighed and leaned against the register. The man stepped forward, "is your last name Black?"
Sirius raised his eyebrows, what kind of scheme are they trying to pull? Finally he decides he would just play along, "Yeah, Black…."
A smirk flickers across the man's handsome face.
Chapter 2 - Recognizing the Simple.
It was not often that Mr. Black saw his landlord. He lived in a flat, well more or less half a flat at the size of it. He liked it though; beat the alley by a million. Today marked the first he saw his grisly bear of a landlord, since he arrived from the program.
Suddenly his thoughts fled to the program. He found the program the same day he woke in the alley, stumbled for the light. Once he the light his head felt like a cracked egg, "I suppose I'm in alcoholic."
Later that day he found a shelter, "Hello, I'm an alcoholic." he said to the volunteer. "Admitting is the first step. Come this way please" replied a small chubby cheeked volunteer. She took him to a group of Christians, the convinced him that he as defiantly an alcoholic, and he had just hit rock bottom. "I suppose more like alley bottom," he replied, only to be told that was the attitude that made him an alcoholic.
They took him to a building. There There he met other supposed alcoholics. At night they gave money to the nurses to buy them booze. It was a good lot of fun up in till of the guilty women told the therapist. They sat Sirius down for intensive therapy.
"Hello, I'm Mr. McIngham." He extended his hand towards Sirius.
"Hi, Mr. Black." He replied taking the older mans hand.
"Shall we start?" He asked taking a seat across the desk. Sirius nodded in reply.
They began with simple questions, hoping to set up some sort of, what Sirius supposed relationship so later he could pry deeper. Then he started to ask about the past; a past not know to Sirius, it was all fuzz.
"How old are you?"
"I suppose I'm young"
"What is your birth year?"
" I don't know."
"Okay… don't feel pressured, if you don't want to tell me you don't have to"
" I know"
"Tell me about you parents."
"Well…" Sirius now realized he knew nothing about his past. Nothing at all. But he knew what to say.
"I suppose I drank those memories away…" He paused. "They must be the reason I'm an Alcoholic."
That night they told Sirius he was ready. He wasn't sure for what but in the morning everyone celebrated and it was quite pleasant till they put him and his stuff on the street and bid him farewell. That night he met his landlord and got his half flat.
Chapter 3 –
A smile flicker across the man's handsome face. Sirius stood just a tad bit straighter. What was wroung with these people? He thought while beginning to fidget with his hair. "It's 34 pounds, sir." He stated again hoping that might get them to pay. This time they moved, shuffling though their robes they got change together.
The man gave him the change and a little piece of paper. As Sirius was counting the pounds the man had given him the family left. The little piece of paper caught the Sirius attention. He opened it, it was blank. "Oh pocket trash lovely." He muttered.
As he said that words began to scroll across the page. 'Hello, my name is Remus Lupin, I would like the talk further, write the location below.' Below there was a line for him to write.
He looked up and it was all gone except for the line. Did this mean he was a crack addict?? Yes it had to, only when people did crazy things did people at work call them crack addicts. That meant he was a crack addict. Though he never remember smoking crack but maybe you can't remember that sort of thing because of the way the drug makes you act.
He went outside for a smoke. His friend from the deli sat next to him, " can I bum a fag?" Sirius handed him one without ever looking. This kid wasn't really a friend but for the excessive lack of friends Sirius supposed he better call him one.
"What's wrong with you today?"
"nothing… I mean what do crack addicts act like?"
"well…. They act all crazy and shit. Most of them whore themselves for money. You know Meeting up with random people and having sex for crack or for the money. They can't remember shit, just how to smoke…." He went on up Sirius couldn't stand his voice so he spaced out.
His friend though had confirmed it, he was indeed a crack addict and now he had to go hooker himself for money. But where? He pondered during his shift.
Clocking out it hit him, that paper was his way of getting back in the business! That why they were so strange they were crack dealers!! He'd meet this weirdo, who must sell crack.
He walked the long way to his half flat. He was on no real hurry. Not to mention now that he was a crack addict hooker, he'd have to get use to walking the streets. No one seemed too interested in him though. That meant no one would be giving him crack. He cursed his inability to sell his body.
Turning the key to his half flat he decided he'd look the man up in the phone book and ask how much his crack was. He hurried to his bedroom and lit some candles. Because he couldn't afford electricity, who wants to pay for light, you get it free during the day anyway.
Page after page Sirius flipped. There was one listing, Marie Lupin. It sure as hell was not Remus Lupin but perhaps she could tell him where or who Remus was exactly. He wrote the number down on his hand and fumbled for change.
He went downstairs and ran down the block to the nearest pay phone. The phone rang three times before there was an answer on the other end. Sirius's breathing hitched. "Hello…?" said a tired woman on the other end.
"Hello is this Marie Lupin?" Sirius asked quickly. Awkward, awkward, awkward.
"Why yes who is this?"
"Do you know Remus Lupin?"
"Yes. That's my son… what is this call about?"
"Where is he?"
"Oh is he okay?"
"I'm sure he is…. How can I reach him?"
"I don't know…. I suppose by phone, but who is this? Why my Remus?"
"Can I have his phone number?"
"NO!" --- The line disconnected and Sirius was left standing in the yellow light of the streetlamp.
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Sirius stared at the flicker of the candle next to his bed. He was left with one last choice. He could write the location of their meeting on that line. He decided that he would do exactly that, but he didn't have a pen. Bastards.
