Lads' Day Out

Arthur Weasley had been having a very bad day indeed. So bad was it that he could not fully appreciate the fine quality of his chicken vindaloo. He had just come from a disastrous interview with Remus Lupin at the Ministry of Magic. He had done all he could think of to help the lad, but Lupin seemed intent on sabotaging his own chances. Arthur tried not to dwell on this disappointment; youth made you do strange things. Biting the hand that feeds. He allowed himself a grim smile at his own poor choice in cliche.

Again he fixed his attention on his dinner.
He wondered what his wife was cooking at home in the Burrow. Definitely not chicken vindaloo. Molly had no place in her heart for exotic and spicy tastes. Like that smart little lace-up he had given her for Christmas a few years back. She had insisted on wearing her bath robe over it that night. Indeed, youth made you do strange things.
She had not, even after all these years, lost her erotic appeal to him. But after seven children, he felt, even a Satyr would be tempted to spend a quiet night engaged in an intimacy no greater than sorting his lover's socks.
Taking another bite, Arthur Weasley decided that chicken vindaloo and his wife would not get on.

The door of Djinn's Cave of Curry opened and in walked Sirius Black followed closely by Rubeus Hagrid.

Arthur Weasley had just settled his bill and was putting on his hat when he spotted the rough-looking duo.
"Hallo, Sirius, Hagrid."
"Alright, Arthur?"
"Evenin', Mr. Weasley, and how's the family?"
"Very well, thank you, Hagrid. 'Matter of fact I'm off home right now. And you two?"
"We've got tickets for the game." Sirius gestured towards the lavatories.
"Aye, and if ye'll excuse me, I'd kill fir some nan bread." Hagrid moved towards the proprietor, leaving the other two men standing uncomfortably silent for a second.

"Sirius, I saw Remus today."
"Oh?"
"Yes, he was in for an interview at the Ministry. A bit of a muddle really. He seemed a little...out of sorts."

"Oh." Sirius cursed himself for being so thick. Stammering "Oh" endlessly was not going to impress anyone. There was no denying he felt incredibly awkward in the presence of Arthur Weasley, as if he was a student up in front of a professor again -- an idea made more nonsensical in light of their closeness in age.
"Oh," he repeated, "he's been under a lot of pressure lately. He'll come 'round." What a stupid thing to say, he thought.
"I'm sure he will, but its probably best if he avoids the Ministry for awhile. Maybe he needs some kind of diversion. See what you can do for him, Sirius. He needs a friend."

"Best fu--, best fresh nan to be had. Ready, Sir?" Hagrid had returned and was eagerly munching a fistful of warm flatbread. Sirius used the interruption to muster his thoughts.
"Right. Thanks for the advice, Arthur, I'll see what I can do."

For a moment the two men stared at each other, each seeing in the other a life which might have been his, had circumstances been different.

"Good, good. Well, goodnight, lads. Have fun at the game."
"'Night, Mr. Weasley," said Hagrid, between mouthfuls.
"Goodnight, Arthur."
Arthur Weasley turned and walked out the door. Sirius watched the door close on him, and on a life with a wife, a family, and a warm home.

"Portkey's through here."
"Oh...aye." Sirius snapped out of his thoughts and followed the giant to the lavatory.

Inside they crammed themselves into the last stall and closed the door behind them.
"Do this often, sailor?" Hagrid fluttered his enormous eyelashes.
"Fuck off, ya giant buftie! Where's the Portkey?"
Hagrid consulted the backs of the tickets.
"Aye. Right by yer foot."
Sirius looked down. He saw beside the toilet a very wet copy of "Home Botanicals' Illustrated Magazine". They both touched the foul periodical with the toes of their boots, and felt themselves being pulled through space...