Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series nor do I own any of it's characters.
Sirius Black lilted and gambolled down the streets of London. The sunny days of April had always filled him with efflorescent cheer. It had been four years, almost to the day since he had fled his parental home in the wealthy yet utterly deprived Islington. Four years and despite being just down the road in, what he believe to be the much nicer, Wimbledon, not a single word had been traded between himself and his fascist parents. None whatsoever, for whatsoever would be their need to salvage their disgrace of an elder son when young, malleable and impressionable Regulus still ate off their ebony dinner table.
Rushing past hansoms and carriages, he finally arrived at his destination. The rustic charm of Le Printemps theatre had felt much more like home than Grimmauld Place ever had. From the moment he had laid eyes on it Sirius had felt much obliged to heed to its majestic call. This was, perhaps in part due to its beguiling and generous owners. James Potter's face still held all the youth and laughter that it must have in his school days and his hazel eyes danced with pride whenever they fell upon his lovely wife, Lily, or their spirited young son.
James Potter had been the making of the young lad. Running away from his privileged background should have immediately spelled trouble. One would have expected the boy from the noble and ancient house of Black to be condemned to the gutter, fighting to stay alive in the slums of inner-city London. The fates would have it, however, that he'd be approached in a backstreet of Wimbledon by Mr Potter. James, or Jim to his friends, had found himself suddenly enticed by the boy's Grecian good-looks and regal air. Nevertheless both he and the lovely Lily had been taken in by the ardent and impassioned spirit of the young man and taken him in, providing him with work, lodgings and for the first time in his life – a family.
As he ambled into the foyer the comely Lily Potter stopped him in his tracks.
"Sirius! I've been looking everywhere for you," she cried, tossing her fiery locks over her shoulder, "Jim is waiting for you in the office and if you're not busy tonight could you watch Harry, dear?"
Sirius smiled as she scurried away before he'd had the chance to respond. Lily knew him to well to even consider the possibility he might refuse. Young Harry was an engaging, ebullient child who had taken to referring to Sirius as his uncle, something which neither the man in question nor the child's parents had felt any inclination to contest. He mulled over the acceptance he'd found in the theatre as he climbed the gilded staircase, with its rich, wine-coloured carpet up to the office of his employer and more importantly, his friend.
Knocking upon the large, mahogany door he smiled, to himself and the heavens above. Years before he would have cursed the opulence that surrounded him almost as much as he cursed his inflexibly prejudiced family. The theatre on the other hand was an escape, not simply from the horrors of Grimmauld Place but simply the humdrum of daily life itself. On stage he was no longer Sirius Black, actor, runaway heir to old money and part-time babysitter. He was Hamlet of Denmark, Edward II, Tiresias, to name but a few. He would forever be whomever his audience desired but on the stage, his stage, the world was whatever he was to desire.
A beaming James Potter opened the door to him and beckoned for him to sit down. Relaxing in a plush armchair Sirius noted his friend's fondness for mahogany which formed his desk, floors, door – why, its red hues even seeped its way into his wife's hair!
"Sirius, are you listening to me at all? I've found something to break down the lassitude you seem to be settling into. An old school-friend of mine will be coming to stay with us. He's a playwright from Guilford and he's hoping to come and find some inspiration here. So, naturally, I shall want you on your worst behaviour." James grinned, reclining on his own chair.
"We have a guest?" chortled Sirius in return, "What a pleasure, I'm sure it should serve well to disrupt the languor of peace dear Lily has finally achieved. I must meet this fellow at once!"
"I doubt he's quite what you expect, Sirius, my good friend. I do hope you like him though, and I expect you'll be making his acquaintance very soon."
As if on cue, the rasping of knuckles against the door broke through Sirius' bark like laughter. It swung open and across the threshold stepped a young man whose face seemed wizened far beyond the thirty or so years it must have seen.
"Ah, Remus!" cried James jovially, "It's been a long time! I hope the journey wasn't too rough. I'll go fetch some tea. This is Sirius, by the way, Sirius Black. Our fledgling star of the stage we discussed in correspondence."
Bustling out of the room, James left Sirius with the curious feeling that the strangers eyes, like liquid cocoa, were fixed upon him. The feeling of being under such scrutiny left him feeling strangely bashful, for reasons he could not quite fathom. It was, in fact, the stranger that decided to break the silence.
"My, what a tale you have, Mr Black," the guest, known to be Remus smirked, "James and Lily's runaway, the defector from decadence. Tell me, what joy does acting hold for you that the leisure and charm of high society lacks?"
Hidden away in the depths of his chest Sirius felt something akin to – no, not akin but identical to anger burning away. How dare this tawny-haired flake of a man pass any judgement upon him! A scathing retort singed at his tongue but was quelled, suddenly. The man's face softened slightly and for once, Sirius' rage abated for reasons other than his loyalty to the Potter's.
"I mean this with great sincerity, Mr Black. Surely the world was once your oyster?"
Whilst Remus' mellifluous voice was certainly filled with innocent sincerity, the question still managed lingered maliciously in Sirius' brain. The world was now gilded with gold, encrusted with diamonds. What did this stranger, how so charming in appearance, want from him? Did he intend to strip away the finely painted china and porcelain masks that he adorned himself, body and soul, with at both leisure and his own pleasure?
"The stage is my oyster and I intend to be its pearl, Mr-" he broke off, realising he hadn't even caught his companion's name in full.
"Lupin, but please, call me Remus. It's not often I have such an interesting specimen before me." And Remus Lupin's rich eyes and wide smile seemed aflame with such delight that Sirius was both deeply unsettled and deeply overjoyed. The new guest was something of an enigma to him, eliciting sensations that were unwelcome but not unpleasant.
James returned, carrying a tray filled with fondant fancies, rich tea biscuits and a steaming pot of Earl Grey tea. Sirius sipped at his cup quietly, much to James' amusement. The young man was rarely anything but rambunctious. What an effect his old friend seemed to have upon his youthful protégé.