Where Drinking Gets You

Where Drinking Gets You

Sirius rolled out of bed and hit the alarm clock on the nightstand in one fluid motion. On the floor there happened to be the trousers he had stripped off last night and he hauled them on without a thought as to the smoky odors coming from them. Drowsily, he walked out of his room and stumbled down the stairs, his eyes all the while half closed. Seeing the blurred formation of the railing to his right, he grabbed hold of it to support his legs, which were bending without his consent.

He was weak from the previous night and the activities he participated in. He thought about the possibility that he might have had a slight hangover, but he didn't remember having alcohol. Least ways, not a lot of alcohol.

Staggering clumsily as he stepped off the last stair, he only regained his footing by grasping firmly to that blessed railing. He had thought there was one more stair and had been unprepared to come into contact with the floorboards so soon.

He almost fell into the kitchen since he had to leap across the cold wooden floor tiles without support just to get into the room. It was a wonder that he was doing everything the Muggle way, but Sirius realized the most plausible explanation for this was because he had left his wand upstairs.

Food, he thought as his stomach gave a low growl. Food would be good.

As he laid out a few options on the table, he gathered up the peanut butter and soda crackers in his arms and strewed them about the counter. Just as the butter knife sliced into the thick jar of mashed peanuts, the doorbell rang. Since the ringer was just outside the kitchen door, Sirius could feel the brain in his skull vibrate with the sound. He must have had more drinks than he thought.

On his way to the door, he found a grey t-shirt hanging on the couch and grabbed it, pulling it over his head. It fell to his waist as the door opened.

The doormat's occupant couldn't have been more than five foot three and her eyes held about them the sense that she had done some horrible things in her life. She was a small blonde, not unattractive, but weary-looking. Not Sirius' usual cup of tea. He still gave her a smile, though as far as smiles go for a hung over, drowsy git, it wasn't his best charmer. The blonde's expression remained the same.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said kindly. "I wouldn't want to be the cause--oh, bollocks. I thought I could do this...the thing is, I'm pregnant with your baby."

Sirius' eyelids popped open.

"My...?" The uncompleted question hung in the air between them for a while until Sirius took control of the situation. "Fuck."

- - - - -

He had offered her a drink and she had asked for water. He was now pacing the kitchen, holding his head in his hands. Spotting the two-way mirror on the table, he picked it up and whispered a fierce, "James!"

It took a moment for his best friend's face to appear in the cube, staring back at him with a grin. It faded as he spotted Sirius' expression.

"What's wrong?"

"I...might have a small problem," he said quietly, holding the mirror close to his face as if he could muffle out his voice.

"What've you gotten into this time?"

James caught himself before he rolled his eyes. This made Sirius even more hesitant.

"Well, James--you know when you, uh, go out to get a drink and sometimes--"

"You had sex with a girl you met at a bar."

"Right," said Sirius, attempting to nonchalantly peek around the corner of the kitchen wall. He had only found out her name was Lizzie by asking her if she wanted to name the baby after herself. Her response had included an 'Elizabeth' so he was forced to assume. "And sometimes, when that happens..."

"She's trailing after you like a little kid, isn't she?"

"If you replace one of the words, you could say that."

There was a lapse in the conversation while James thought about the statement and in the gathered time, Sirius saw him take a deep breath, resulting in a bellow of, "SIRIUS!"

"Keep your voice down!" he whispered pleadingly, mumbling, "Where's the volume knob on this thing?"

"I can't believe you!"

"Me neither!"

"I'm glad we agree on be disgusted by your stupidity!"

Sirius smacked a palm to his forehead. "James, I don't know what to do. I don't even remember this one!"

"That's your own fault! You go around boinking a bunch of girls you don't know, it's gonna come back to bite you in the ass--" Sirius was about to open his mouth when James added, "And no, I don't mean that literally."

"But I was drunk! The alcohol clouded my judgment. Actually, it didn't exactly cloud out as much as black out..."

"Then watch your intake, mate!"

"Well it's too bloody late now, innit?"

"Serves you right."

"Now that's not fair. No one deserves this."

"Is she there now?" James asked. Sirius gave a slight nod of the head. "Well, hell, go talk to her!"

"What am I supposed to say?"

"I dunno, you're the father."

Sirius eyed the mirror irritably when James made it obvious he couldn't contain his laughter.

"Sirius...you're the father!"

"Tons of help you are. I should have called Remus."

Without sparing James another glance, he threw the two-way onto the counter. It landed next to the peanut butter jar which was still open. He sighed as he thought about how simple life had been only thirty minutes ago.

He walked out of the kitchen with a glass of ice water in each hand. He placed one on the table in front of the blonde and raised his own.

"So," he said casually, "here's to...having a baby with Lizzie."

The expectant look on her face caused his good-natured toast to falter.

"It's Shelley, actually..."

Sirius brought the glass up to his mouth and gulped down the liquid inside, wishing desperately that it was firewhiskey.