Chapter Text
Sirius had never imagined himself working in a supermarket. It wasn’t exactly a dream job, or even a job he’d ever pictured doing. But the interview had been quick, the pay decent, and he needed the money. So when the offer came through, he took it without hesitation.
Now, on a surprisingly warm autumn afternoon, he pulled into the car park and swung his leg off his bike. The tarmac still held the day’s heat, radiating up through his boots as he crossed toward the entrance. He tugged off his helmet, ran a hand through his hair, and tried not to think too hard about how he’d ended up here.
The noise hit him first — the low hum of tills, the distant beeping of scanners, the murmur of customers. Then the lights, bright enough to make him blink. He stepped inside and barely had time to adjust before he felt it: the unmistakable sensation of being watched.
A man stood by the entrance, arms folded tightly across his chest, tracking Sirius’s movements with the suspicion of someone guarding a vault. His badge read Filch. James had warned him about this one — apparently Filch believed every customer was moments away from committing a crime.
Sirius resisted the urge to wave.
He headed toward the help desk instead.
Hermione was mid‑conversation at the help desk, her voice calm but firm as she tried to reason with a customer about child safety. “Well, yes, that’s true,” she said, “but I’m not sure we can reasonably insist all small children are tied to—”
She stopped when she spotted him.
“Oh! Hello again.” Her expression brightened as she stepped forward. “First day, right?”
Sirius nodded. “That obvious?”
“Only slightly.” She smiled, warm and efficient in the way of someone who had already memorised the entire store layout and everyone in it.
Sirius smiled back— and then felt it.
A presence. Sharp. Focused. Watching him before he even turned.
He didn’t need to be told who it was. James’s description had been more than enough.
Hermione turned slightly, already calling him over. “Severus — this is our new starter. He’ll mostly be on your shift, so I’ve given you the rest of his paperwork.”
Sirius looked.
Right. Yes. That would be him.
Snape approached with the kind of precision that suggested he’d been born irritated. Hermione handed him the paperwork with suspicious efficiency, and he accepted it without looking away from Sirius.
“Wow,” Sirius said lightly. “Neat trick.”
Snape regarded him like something mildly unpleasant had just started speaking.
Sirius took the opportunity to look properly. Dark hair pulled back neatly. Pale skin. And his eyes.
Right.
That was unfortunate.
Because if he wasn’t glaring, those eyes would be… Well. That wasn’t helpful.
“Black,” Snape said.
Sirius blinked, then grinned. “Actually, I prefer my drinks with sugar.”
A moment of silence followed.
“Amusing,” Snape said flatly. “Do you do comedy on the side, or is it just a hobby?”
Something sharp and unexpected settled low in Sirius’s chest. Interesting. Far more interesting than it had any right to be.
Snape turned away, already walking toward the staff‑only door. Sirius followed, spotting James across the store and making a dramatic throat‑cutting gesture. James snorted.
Snape paused by the door, which had clearly once read staff only but now faintly showed the ghost of an earlier prank: staff lonely.
He followed Sirius’s gaze. “That explains it. If you and Potter are finished, I’ll show you the staff room.”
The staff room was smaller than Sirius expected — a row of lockers, a battered sofa, a kettle that looked like it had survived several wars. Snape stood exactly where Sirius had left him, as if he’d simply powered down in place.
Sirius shoved his jacket and helmet into an empty locker and stepped back out. Snape hadn’t moved.
Jeez. Was this man superhuman or something?
Snape waved the paperwork vaguely in his direction. “You can stay awake, I assume?”
Sirius opened his mouth, but Snape continued before he could speak.
“You’ve finished most of your paperwork. I’ll show you the fire exits, then you’ll spend the rest of your shift shadowing someone.”
Sirius found his voice this time. “So our bonding session is over already?”
Snape didn’t reply. He simply turned and walked.
They were halfway down the tinned food aisle when a customer intercepted them — mid‑forties, the type who would complain if his biscuits had one fewer than advertised.
“Look, I don’t mean to complain,” the man whispered, leaning in as though sharing state secrets.
Snape turned to look at him. The man faltered, then redirected his attention toward a young woman stacking shelves nearby.
“She keeps tapping the tins,” he hissed. “All of them.”
Sirius glanced over. Long blonde hair. Soft, distant eyes. Her badge read Luna.
Snape stared at the man, profoundly uninterested. “If that’s the strangest thing you’ve seen in here today, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
The man blinked. “Yes, but—”
“Leave her to do her job. And finish yours, which appears to be…” Snape glanced into the trolley. “Clearing us out of whiskey.”
The man shuffled away, muttering.
As they passed, Luna smiled faintly at Sirius. “You sparkle around the edges,” she murmured.
Sirius had been called worse.
They were almost at the tills when a large caged trolley rolled to a stop in front of them. Sirius spotted the driver immediately — hard to miss the red hair and the look of someone who’d been told “no” too many times in one day.
“Move,” the redhead said.
“But Snape, sir, I have to take the cages this way,” he added, the badge on his chest reading Fred.
Something in the look Snape gave him made Fred reconsider every life choice he’d ever made. He reversed the trolley just enough to let them through.
Snape led Sirius toward a man who somehow looked both terrified and perfectly suited to self‑service tills.
“Remus,” Snape said. “This is Sirius. He’ll be working with you for the rest of the shift.”
If Sirius expected more of an introduction, he didn’t get it. Snape simply turned and walked away.
Remus watched him go, then exhaled. “He isn’t as scary once you get used to him,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t fully believe it.
Sirius laughed. “Oh, good. So eventually he stops trying to kill you with a glance?”
For the first time, Remus properly smiled — and it suited him. “I wouldn’t go that far. Now, first supermarket job?”
A few hours later, Sirius had served his first customer — an elderly woman who’d declared him “a darling” — and successfully stacked an entire shelf without causing structural collapse. Remus leaned against the self‑service till beside him, arms folded loosely.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t be doing more?” Sirius asked.
Remus chuckled. “If I were you, mate, I’d enjoy the peace while it lasts. Management will be on you soon enough.”
Sirius could practically feel Snape glaring at him from across the store. The supervisor hadn’t moved from the help desk since abandoning him there earlier.
“Pads! You finally decided to do some work?”
Sirius turned just in time to be dragged into a bear hug. “Potter,” he groaned, though he was smiling.
A loud squeal followed.
Sirius didn’t need to look to know it was Daisy.
“Uncle Paddy!”
The toddler launched herself at him as James stepped back laughing. Over James’s shoulder, Sirius spotted Lily attempting to wrestle a chocolate bar out of Harry’s hands. He gave her a sympathetic wave.
A sharp inhale nearby pulled his attention away.
Snape stood directly in front of him.
“When you’ve finished your family reunion, take your break.”
Before Sirius could respond, Daisy — braver than most adults — pointed straight at Snape.
“Don’t be a grumpy bear,” she sang. “It won’t help your tears fade away.”
Snape regarded her for a long moment, expression unreadable.
“Even your daughter has more sense than you, Potter,” he said, then turned and walked away.
Sirius was halfway through scrolling on his phone when the sofa dipped beside him. The redhead from earlier dropped into the seat with the ease of someone who treated furniture as a suggestion rather than a rule. His badge now read George.
Before Sirius could comment, George dropped a brown bakery bag into his lap.
“Mum said to give you this. She reckons you look starved.”
Sirius blinked. Right. Inside the bag sat a pastry, still warm. His stomach betrayed him immediately with a loud rumble.
He had, in fact, skipped breakfast.
“I don’t suppose you regularly change your name?” Sirius asked, nodding toward the badge as he took a bite.
George snorted. “Nah. You probably met my brother. We’re twins.”
Sirius nodded around a mouthful of apple turnover. “Pretty much my whole family works here,” George continued, stretching out even further. “Mum, Dad. Fred, obviously. Our little brother Ron just started too. You’ll recognise him.”
“How?”
“The hair,” George said immediately. “And the constant look of panic. He always looks about thirty seconds from a breakdown.”
“Hm.” Sirius swallowed. “Red hair and existential dread. I’ll keep an eye out.”
George laughed so hard he slapped his own knee.
“Fred said you met the Prince of Darkness.”
Sirius choked. George thumped him on the back.
“Don’t die, mate. My first aid training expired ages ago.”
“Yes,” Sirius managed once he recovered. “I’ve met Snape.”
George leaned back, hands behind his head. “Fred’s terrified of him.”
“And you’re not?”
“Not even slightly.”
“George Weasley. Remove your feet. Now.”
Sirius looked up.
A woman stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, apron tied neatly around her waist. George’s colour drained instantly as he dropped his feet to the floor.
Sirius didn’t need an introduction.
Molly Weasley.
Her expression softened when she turned toward him. “Hello, dear. I see you got my pastry.” She crossed to the kettle and switched it on. “And don’t ever be shy about coming to me if you’re hungry.”
“Thank you, Molly.”
The staff room door opened again.
Severus Snape stood in the doorway, arms crossed, silently taking in the scene.
“If you’ve finished chatting, Black, your break is over.”
Molly didn’t even look at him.
She poured a coffee and placed it in front of him. “Hush now, Severus.”
Sirius blinked.
Snape uncrossed his arms.
“Sirius is going to have a cup of tea,” Molly continued, setting a biscuit beside Snape’s coffee, “and you are going to eat that.”
There was absolutely no room for argument.
Snape sat down.
Sirius watched with faint astonishment. This felt less like a workplace and more like witnessing a rare behavioural phenomenon in the wild.
Molly busied herself with the rest of the drinks before finally sitting down. “You really must remember to eat, Severus. You work far too hard.”
“Yes, Molly,” Snape replied, already reaching for the biscuit.
“You need someone to look after you,” she added.
A flicker — quick, sharp — crossed Snape’s expression.
George leaned closer to Sirius. “Barking up the wrong tree,” he muttered.
Molly’s head turned immediately. “Something to say, George?”
She removed the mug from his hands.
“Time for you to return to work.”
George opened his mouth, then visibly reconsidered his life choices. “Good luck,” he muttered to Sirius under his breath, giving his arm a sympathetic pat before fleeing the room.
The rest of Sirius’s first shift passed quickly after that. Remus showed him how to empty and bag the tills, how to reset the machines when they froze, and how to politely explain to customers that the shop did not, in fact, sell items that belonged in a luxury seafood restaurant.
“And why exactly do you not stock oysters?” a woman demanded stiffly, as though personally offended.
Remus didn’t miss a beat. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken Asda for Harrods, madam.”
Sirius bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. From the corner of his eye, he caught it — the faintest twitch at the corner of Severus Snape’s mouth. Not a smile. Not even close. But something.
The woman huffed and marched toward the exit. Sirius watched with quiet satisfaction as Filch intercepted her at the doors, expression grim enough to make her reconsider every complaint she’d ever made.
Remus nudged him. “Right. That’s us done.”
He nodded toward the clock. “Well done. You survived your first day at everyone’s favourite supermarket.”
Sirius followed the others toward the staff room, collecting his jacket and helmet on the way out. The store felt different now — less overwhelming, more familiar. He could almost imagine himself getting used to it.
As he passed the small office nearby, he glanced inside.
Snape was still there.
He sat behind the desk surrounded by paperwork, a single lamp casting a pool of light across the room. His posture was rigid, focused, as though the rest of the world had faded away.
Remus followed Sirius’s gaze and smiled faintly. “We’ve got bets going that he’s actually a vampire.”
Sirius looked back one last time as Remus pushed open the door. Snape didn’t look up.