Chapter 1: First Shift.
Chapter Text
Sirius could say with absolute certainty that he had never aspired to work in a supermarket. The interview had been easy enough, though, and he needed the money.
When the offer came through, he took it without hesitation.
Which was how he found himself now, on a surprisingly warm autumn afternoon, pulling his helmet off as he parked his bike. The car park was quieter than he’d expected, the tarmac still holding the day’s heat as he crossed it.
The noise hit him first. Then the lights.
He had barely stepped inside when he felt watched.
A grumpy-looking man by the entrance followed his movements with visible suspicion, arms folded tightly across his chest.
His badge read Filch.
James had warned him about this. Apparently, the man believed every customer was moments away from committing a crime.
Sirius resisted the urge to wave.
Instead, he made his way toward the help desk.
“Well, yes, that’s true,” Hermione was saying, her voice calm but firm, “but I’m not sure we can reasonably insist all small children are tied to…”
She stopped mid-sentence when she spotted him.
“Oh, hello again.” She smiled, stepping forward. “First day, right?”
Sirius nodded. “That obvious?”
“Only slightly.”
He smiled back and then felt it.
A presence.
He did not need to be told who it was. James’s description had been more than enough. Sirius glanced sideways.
Right. Yes. That would be him.
“Severus,” Hermione continued, already turning, “this is our new starter. He’ll mostly be on your shift, so I’ve given you the rest of his paperwork.”
She produced the papers with suspicious efficiency and placed them into Snape’s waiting hand.
“Wow,” Sirius said lightly. “Neat trick.”
Snape looked at him like something mildly unpleasant had just started speaking.
Sirius took the opportunity to look properly.
Dark hair pulled back neatly. Pale skin.
His eyes.
Right.
That was unfortunate.
Because if he was not glaring, those eyes would be...
Well.
That was not helpful.
“Black.”
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?”
Sirius felt it settle somewhere low in his chest, sharp, unexpected, and far more interesting than it had any right to be.
He found himself moving across the store before he fully registered it.
Spotting James, Sirius made a dramatic cutting-his-throat gesture just as Snape stopped beside a door marked staff only, which had clearly been altered at some point to read “staff lonely.” The original lettering still showed faintly underneath.
Snape followed Sirius’s gaze.
“That explains it. If you and Potter are finished, I’ll show you the staff room.”
Once Sirius had shoved his jacket and helmet into a locker, he stepped back out to find Snape standing exactly where he had left him.
Jeez. Was this man superhuman or something?
Snape waved the paperwork vaguely in Sirius’s direction.
“You can stay awake, I assume?”
Sirius barely had time to think of a response before Snape continued.
“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 did not reply.
They were near the tinned food aisle when a customer approached them. Mid-forties. The type who would complain if his biscuits had one fewer than advertised.
“Look, I don’t mean to complain.”
Snape turned to look at him.
The man seemed briefly unsettled before redirecting his attention toward a young woman stacking shelves nearby.
“She keeps tapping the tins,” he whispered, like he was revealing classified information. “All of them.”
“Right,” Severus replied, sounding profoundly uninterested.
The man looked at Snape again as if the problem should already be obvious.
“It’s weird.”
Sirius glanced over at the woman.
Long blonde hair. Soft, distant eyes.
Her badge read Luna.
Snape looked the customer directly in the eye.
“If that’s the strangest thing you’ve seen in here today, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
The man stared at him.
“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 down the aisle.
Snape continued walking.
As they passed, Luna smiled faintly at Sirius.
“You sparkle around the edges,” she murmured.
Well. He 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.
“Move.”
“But Snape, sir, I have to take the cages this way.”
Something in the look Snape gave him meant Fred, if the badge was accurate, did not argue further. He simply reversed enough to let them through.
Snape led Sirius over to a man who somehow looked both terrified and perfectly suited to self-service.
“Remus. This is Sirius. He’ll be working with you for the rest of the shift.”
If Sirius expected more, he did not get it. Snape simply turned and walked away.
Remus watched him go.
“He isn’t as scary once you get used to him,” he said, unconvincingly.
Sirius laughed.
“Oh, good. So eventually he stops trying to kill you with a glance?”
For the first time, Remus properly smiled, and Sirius noticed immediately that 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 had declared him “a darling,” and successfully stacked an entire shelf without causing structural collapse.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t be doing more?” Sirius asked, leaning against the self-service till beside Remus.
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 had barely moved from the help desk since abandoning him there earlier.
“Pads. You finally decided to do some work?”
Sirius smiled immediately at the sound of James’s voice.
He turned just in time to be dragged into a bear hug.
“Potter.”
A loud squeal followed.
Sirius did not 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.”
Daisy, braver than most grown adults, poked a finger directly 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.
“Even your daughter has more sense than you, Potter.”
Then he 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 next to him, though now the name badge read George.
Before Sirius could comment on that, 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. His stomach betrayed him immediately with a loud rumble.
He had skipped breakfast.
“I don’t suppose you regularly change your name?” Sirius asked, nodding toward the badge as he took a bite.
George followed his gaze and 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, sprawling further into the sofa. “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 with his arms 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 with her hands on her hips and an apron tied neatly around her waist.
George’s colour drained instantly as he dropped his feet to the floor.
Sirius did not need an introduction.
Molly Weasley.
Her expression softened when she turned toward Sirius.
“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 with his arms crossed, silently taking in the scene.
“If you’ve finished chatting, Black, your break is over.”
Molly did not 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 conversation and more like witnessing a rare behavioural phenomenon in the wild.
Molly busied herself with the rest of the drinks before finally sitting down herself.
“You really must remember to eat, Severus. You work far too hard.”
“Yes, Molly,” Snape replied, already reaching for the biscuit.
“You need a lovely girl to look after you.”
The slightest tension flickered across 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 as he stood, giving Sirius’s arm a quick sympathetic pat before escaping the room.
The rest of Sirius’s first shift passed quickly after that.
Remus showed him how to empty and bag the tills, along with how to deal with customers asking for things the shop simply did not sell.
“And why exactly do you not stock oysters?” a woman demanded stiffly.
Remus did not miss a beat.
“I’m afraid you’ve mistaken Asda for Harrods, madam.”
From the corner of his eye, Sirius caught it.
The faintest twitch at the corner of Severus Snape’s mouth.
“I shall not be returning to this store again,” the woman announced.
Sirius watched with quiet satisfaction as Argus Filch intercepted her at the doors.
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.
As he passed the small office nearby, he glanced inside.
Snape was still there.
He was still there when Sirius came back out again.
“Does he ever leave?” Sirius asked.
Remus followed his gaze.
Snape sat behind the desk surrounded by paperwork, a single lamp casting light across the office.
Remus 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.
Chapter 2: Learning The Store
Summary:
Severus’s patience is tested from every possible direction as Sirius settles further into life at the supermarket and discovers the store runs almost entirely on chaos, caffeine, and mutual suffering. While Sirius starts noticing there is far more to Snape than sharp glares and sarcasm, Ron Weasley’s pricing gun nearly becomes a casualty of his first real encounter with Draco Malfoy. Meanwhile, Luna continues to operate on an entirely different plane of existence, Draco is reluctantly force-fed cake, and Sirius finally accepts that he is definitely not working in Harrods.
Chapter Text
The first thing Sirius noticed on his next shift was how much busier the store was.
Finch barely had time to grunt at him as he passed, too preoccupied with scanning the entrance for imagined crimes. Sirius narrowly avoided being taken out by a runaway trolley pushed by a child who could barely see over the top of it as he made his way toward the staff area.
He reached the changing rooms, closed his locker, and removed his helmet and leathers.
He barely had time to turn before a voice cut across the room.
“Black.”
Sirius fought the instinct to respond with something unhelpful.
Snape said nothing further, only gesturing sharply for him to follow.
Sirius did.
Instead of heading to the shop floor, Snape led him to what, if one were being generous, could be called an office.
He slipped behind a small, overworked desk and nodded once.
“Sit.”
Sirius had never considered himself a nervous man. Claustrophobic, certainly not. And yet sitting in a windowless room with Snape watching him made him briefly reconsider both.
A sheet of paper slid across the desk.
It felt, irrationally, like evidence.
“I’ve reviewed your paperwork,” Snape said flatly, “and you didn’t provide a next of kin.”
Sirius blinked. “Okay?”
Snape did not blink back.
“Name of next of kin.”
Not a question.
Sirius shifted slightly in the chair. In doing so, his foot accidentally brushed Snape’s calf.
Snape paused once.
“Bellatrix Lestrange.”
He reeled off an address and number without hesitation.
“Relationship?” Snape asked, still not looking up.
And Sirius couldn’t resist it.
“Are you asking if I’m single, Snape?”
The grin that followed was immediate.
Snape looked up.
The expression that met him could have stopped weather systems.
“Answer the question,” Snape said dryly. “Some of us have work to do.”
Sirius sat up straighter.
“She’s, my sister.”
Back on the shop floor, the noise hit harder this time. The store was already moving at full pace, customers weaving between aisles like they were operating entirely on instinct.
Sirius made his way toward the self-service area.
Remus was already there, calm as ever despite the chaos around him.
“You survived another encounter with Snape, then?”
“Just about,” Sirius said. “Is he normally that attentive to new staff?”
Remus laughed, then yelped as an elderly woman cleanly ran her wheelchair over his foot.
“No,” Remus corrected, wincing. “Not quite. You must be special. Or stupid.”
Sirius pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail.
“Well, if you asked my sister, she’d say ‘specially stupid.’”
A help bell rang.
Remus dealt with the issue quickly, then nodded down an aisle.
“Your delightful job for the next few hours is helping baby Malfoy with the Christmas aisle. Luna’s already there.”
Sirius followed his gaze.
Luna stood calmly beside a tall, sharply dressed boy with pale blond hair and an expression of permanent dissatisfaction.
A laugh came from behind Sirius.
James appeared as if summoned by chaos.
“Draco’s the area manager’s son,” James said cheerfully. “Think Snape, but with more confidence and less understanding of anything happening around him.”
By the time Sirius reached the aisle, Draco had already turned to face him.
“Well,” he said, looking Sirius over briefly, “nice of you to join us.”
He held out a printed floor plan.
“This is yours. Lovegood’s already memorised hers.”
Behind him, stock sat in half-open boxes and uneven stacks, part of a display clearly mid-assembly.
“I’ll be back in an hour to check progress.”
His eyes flicked toward Luna.
“She’s in charge.”
Then he left.
Sirius watched him disappear around the end of the aisle.
Beside him, Luna shifted a box with surprising ease. “Don’t mind him,” she said. “He hasn’t had one of Molly’s fairy cakes yet.”
Sirius snorted a laugh.
“I already like him.”
Luna tilted her head like she was reconsidering that statement very seriously, then pointed further down the aisle.
“You can start there. I’ll be over here if things go terribly wrong.”
And with that, she wandered off, completely at ease, like the whole shift had already unfolded in her head hours ago.
Sirius’s first mistake came fast.
Nothing catastrophic. Just slightly wrong spacing on one shelf. But it threw off the whole display once the next row went up.
He stepped back, frowning at it.
A hesitant voice drifted over.
“Uh. That’s not right.”
Sirius turned.
Red hair. Long limbs. The expression of someone moments away from apologising for existing.
Ron.
He hovered nearby clutching a pricing gun.
“Sorry. I just meant those usually go on the other side. I think.”
“Strong opening,” Sirius said.
Ron flushed instantly. “Right. Sorry. I can fix it, if you want. Or not. Doesn’t matter.”
“Mr Black does not require your assistance, Mr Weasley.”
The temperature in the aisle dropped several degrees.
Ron nearly fumbled the pricing gun as Draco stepped neatly between them.
“If help is needed,” Draco said coolly, “someone will ask.”
Ron nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Right. Sorry.”
Draco’s attention shifted to the display.
“This alignment is wrong.”
“Devastating news.”
Draco ignored him completely.
Ron lingered awkwardly for another second before glancing back at the shelves.
“I really can fix it.”
Sirius looked at the display, then at Ron.
“Honestly, I’d love the help.”
Draco went still.
“Would you?”
“Deeply. Passionately.”
Then Draco sighed through his nose.
“Fine. But do it properly.”
Ron stepped forward at once, visibly relieved.
“It’s just the labels,” he said quickly. “If the spacing’s off, the scanner reads the shelf wrong.”
Sirius adjusted one of the boxes.
“Like that?”
Ron squinted at it.
“No. Wait. Yeah. There.”
They worked for a minute in relative silence.
Draco stayed exactly where he was, watching.
After a moment, he said, “It’s still uneven.”
Ron straightened slightly. “That’s the shelf. It dips.”
Draco glanced at it.
“Compensate for the dip, then.”
Ron did.
The line straightened perfectly.
From the other end of the aisle, Luna’s soft voice floated over.
“You’ll all be easier to tolerate if you eat something.”
She approached holding a small paper bag and offered it directly to Draco.
“You need this.”
Sirius was already trying not to laugh.
Draco eyed the bag suspiciously.
“It’s cake.”
“Yes,” Luna said simply.
Another moment passed.
Then Draco took it.
Ten minutes later, Sirius found himself drifting toward the staff room on autopilot more than intention.
The noise of the shop floor dulled the moment the door swung shut behind him, replaced by the softer, uneven rhythm of a break in progress. Kettles clicked, chairs scraped, and someone laughed too loudly at something that probably was not that funny.
He paused just inside.
The room was not large. It never felt like it had been built for this many people at once, yet somehow it always contained them anyway. Mugs were scattered across the table in varying states of tea-to-milk ratio, and a half-eaten packet of biscuits had already been claimed by invisible ownership disputes.
Remus was there, leaning back in a chair like his spine had accepted defeat for the day.
Across from him, a middle-aged man in a crumpled jumper was attempting to fix a small stack of leaflets that had already been folded incorrectly by someone else. Sirius noticed his name badge, Arthur, and with the red hair quickly realised he must be the father of Ron and the twins.
Arthur frowned at them, then carefully unfolded them again as though the paper might forgive him for its earlier treatment.
“That’s not how they meant them to go,” Sirius observed, dropping into the nearest free chair.
Arthur looked up, mildly apologetic. “Ah. Yes. I suspected as much after the third attempt.”
Remus gave a tired laugh.
“We’ve all stopped trying after the first, usually.”
Sirius reached for a biscuit without checking whether it was technically his.
Arthur watched him for a moment, then said almost thoughtfully, “Your tills are remarkably efficient, given how many people seem to interact with them at once.”
“That’s one word for it,” Sirius replied.
Remus hummed. “He means chaos.”
Arthur considered this.
“Ah. Yes. I can see that.”
The kettle clicked again.
Somewhere in the back of Sirius’s mind, he registered that this was what the store sounded like when it briefly stopped pretending to be something else.
For a few minutes, nobody asked anything of him.
It almost felt suspicious.
“Sir, I am trying to help.”
Sirius had spent the past five minutes trying to explain to a customer that he had not overcharged him.
It was going about as well as expected.
A shadow fell behind him.
Sirius did not need to turn to know who it was.
Snape.
He waited to be reprimanded.
“You overcharged me by ten pounds, you idiot.”
Sirius moved aside as Snape stepped in front of the till.
“Your assessment is irrelevant. It’s impossible for him to overcharge you. He scanned what you gave him.”
A few shoppers and staff had stopped to watch what was happening at Sirius’s till.
Snape scanned the items quickly, expression unmoved.
“Ah.”
He picked up two bottles of vodka from the customer’s shopping.
“You’ve misunderstood the offer.” He held them up briefly. “They have to be identical items.”
The customer hesitated.
Snape did not.
“These are not.”
The store seemed to hold its breath.
“Either pick two matching products or accept the current total.”
Sirius opened his mouth to speak. He had no real idea what he planned to say, but he never got the chance.
“Black.”
That was all Snape said before stepping aside to let him back behind the till.
Then he walked away.
That evening, at the end of his shift, Sirius was walking toward the exit in his leathers when he noticed movement near the stock cages.
Arthur Weasley was there again, attempting to manoeuvre a heavy stack of crates onto a higher shelf. The angle was wrong. The weight was wrong. Everything about it looked like it had already been attempted once and wisely abandoned.
Arthur adjusted his grip.
The crates shifted.
Not much. Just enough.
Sirius slowed without meaning to.
Before anything could go further wrong, a voice cut through cleanly.
“Step away from that.”
Snape appeared at Arthur’s side without announcement.
Arthur blinked.
“Oh, Severus. I’m quite alright, really. It’s just...”
“It’s not ‘just’ anything,” Snape replied, already assessing the stack with a glance that seemed to calculate weight, balance, and probability of failure all at once.
He stepped in closer, not touching at first, only observing the structure of it.
“You’re not lifting anything above shoulder height alone.”
Arthur hesitated.
“It does feel slightly unnecessary to involve...”
“It’s necessary,” Snape cut in, without raising his voice.
Then, as if this was simply the next step in an already decided process, he adjusted the base of the stack, shifting the weight distribution with precise, economical movements.
The crates settled properly this time.
Secure. Stable.
“Like that,” Snape said.
Arthur exhaled, mildly sheepish.
“Ah. Yes. That is considerably better.”
Snape gave no acknowledgment beyond a brief glance that confirmed the correction had been accepted into the system of things.
Then he stepped back and moved on.
Sirius watched him go.
Not quickly. Not dramatically.
Just as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
But something had.
And for reasons Sirius could not immediately name, that felt like the most important part of the entire shift.
Chapter 3: Christmas Starts Early
Summary:
The store hits full Christmas chaos, leaving Sirius stuck on tills while Crabbe “supervises” badly. Sirius starts handling customers with growing confidence, stepping in to help Ron when a stressed mother causes a scene. Crabbe tries to bypass protocol, but Sirius fixes the issue properly. Snape arrives silently, observes everything, and—without scolding—acknowledges that Sirius handled it correctly. It’s the first time Snape recognises his competence, marking a subtle shift in their dynamic as the store descends into seasonal madness.
Chapter Text
There had been no sign of Snape when he started his shift. Instead, when he eventually found him, he was greeted by Vincent—a stocky man who looked more like a customer than a supervisor.
“You alright?” Vincent had said, thrusting out a hand.
Sirius shook it.
“You’re in luck,” Vincent continued. “Snape’s in later, so I’ll let you stick to a till. No shelving for you today.” He nodded toward the shop floor. “Twins are covering stock.”
Sirius followed his gaze and winced. One of them was attempting to build a tower of baked beans that looked one bad movement away from collapse.
It took longer than Sirius expected for things to settle, and he only realised it was time for a break when Remus said so.
The staff room was empty bar a huge man who really shouldn’t have fit in it, currently nudging a mop bucket forward with his foot.
Hagrid.
Sirius had heard about the gentle giant from a few other staff.
Flicking the kettle on, Sirius stood at the sink, crossing his ankles as he waited.
“Bit busier than usual today, innit?”
Hagrid paused his mopping before lowering himself onto the sofa, which creaked slightly beneath him as though reconsidering its structural integrity.
Sirius poured milk into his tea. “You can say that again.”
Hagrid chuckled, the deep booming sound filling the cramped room easily. “Aye, things look a bit all over the place this morning.”
Mug in hand, Sirius sat on one of the plastic chairs opposite him.
“I’ve only done a handful of shifts, but I’ve never noticed this level of chaos on Hermione and Snape’s shifts.” He blew on his tea before taking a sip.
Hagrid gave a small approving nod. “Young Crabbe’s got his hands full, poor lad.”
Sirius almost commented that Crabbe didn’t seem to have his hands full of much at all, but Hagrid suddenly stood.
“Suppose I should get back to it before Snape arrives. Fella does like his store clean.”
“I want it.”
The loud screech stopped Sirius in his tracks as he made his way back onto the shop floor. He looked toward the help desk to see a young mother trying to balance a toddler on her hip while two slightly older children fought over what appeared to be an ice lolly.
Behind the till stood Ron, looking thoroughly terrified.
The woman attempted to prise the squashed lolly from her children. “Boys, please. Can you stop? I’m trying to talk to the man.”
One of the boys immediately threw himself onto the floor.
“It’s not fair! You said I could have it!”
The other boy stuck a thumb into his mouth with an expression of betrayal.
“Can I see the receipt again?” Ron almost whispered as the woman thrust it into his hand.
“All I want is another box. I don’t see what the issue is here.”
Ron moved nervously behind the till as he scanned the items. “I understand, madam, but the protocol says I have to remove the item from the transaction first.”
Sirius moved to assist Ron just as he saw Crabbe approach the desk.
“What is all this fuss?” he asked, not unkindly.
Ron looked visibly relieved as he quickly explained the issue, but Crabbe barely seemed to listen before smiling at the woman and handing over her shopping bag.
“Well, it’s an easy fix. Just get the lady another box.”
Beside Sirius, Ron flushed even redder.
“But you can’t—”
Crabbe’s calm expression shifted as he looked at Ron.
Oh. Sirius knew that look.
Without really thinking about it, he stepped forward and knelt beside the screaming child, handing over his keys. The boy stopped almost instantly—a trick Sirius had learnt from Harry and Daisy—while Sirius took the receipt from the woman with his free hand.
He handed the empty lolly packet to Ron. “Why don’t you get another packet, Ron? I can deal with this.”
Moving behind the desk, Sirius quickly found the item on the system and marked it for exchange, exactly as Ron had been trying to explain.
“Right,” Sirius said kindly to the woman, “I can see what’s happened. The lollies aren’t listed under the item name, so it can get a bit confusing.”
The woman sighed heavily in relief. “Thank you so much.”
Ron returned with the replacement packet, and she immediately handed two lollies to her sons before giving Sirius his keys back.
Crabbe had already drifted toward the exit by the time the situation properly settled, his attention clearly elsewhere.
Sirius caught it from the corner of his eye.
“I thought he was supposed to be working till three?” he muttered under his breath, more to Ron than anyone else.
Ron hesitated. “I think… he must have had somewhere to be.”
Lazy bastard.
Ron immediately went still beside him.
“…You’re not meant to be here,” he said quickly, his voice dropping. “This is—this is my till—if Snape sees—”
“Black.”
Sirius straightened slightly.
Severus Snape was already there, standing just at the edge of the queue where he could see everything without properly stepping into it. He hadn’t announced himself; he had simply appeared.
His gaze moved once, slow and unreadable, across the till, the receipt in Sirius’s hand, Ron flushed beside him, and the now-settled customer.
Ron looked as though he might try to explain.
Snape didn’t give him the chance.
“I see the issue has been sorted.”
A brief pause followed before his gaze shifted slightly.
“Correctly.”
Ron blinked.
Sirius said nothing.
Snape had already turned away, his attention moving elsewhere before the moment could become anything more.
The next stretch of the shift settled into something quieter, though no less relentless. Customers came in waves rather than chaos—steady, predictable, the kind that eventually blurred together after a while.
Sirius scanned, bagged, repeated while small problems rose and disappeared around him: a woman forgetting her card, a man insisting an item had been cheaper on the shelf, a child crying because the sweets were the wrong kind before stopping just as suddenly.
Nothing truly went wrong, and nothing particularly stood out as the queue shortened, grew again, then shortened once more.
At some point, Molly passed behind him, pressing a folded brown paper bag into someone’s hands with the kind of quiet insistence that didn’t invite refusal. Sirius caught sight of it later, abandoned near the edge of a counter.
“Sorry—this one won’t scan.”
Sirius took the item and tried again. The machine beeped in protest.
“Hold on.”
He keyed the numbers in manually beneath his breath until the item finally went through.
“Thank you,” the customer said, already half-turned away.
Sirius only nodded, reaching automatically for the next item.
Somewhere across the shop floor, the twins had built something unstable again. No one stopped them.
A movement at the end of the aisle caught Sirius’s attention.
Snape.
He stood near one of the end displays with his sleeves pushed back slightly, adjusting things most people would never have noticed were out of place. One item shifted, then another, and somehow the entire shelf looked neater afterwards.
A member of staff approached him and started explaining something.
Snape didn’t interrupt, simply letting them finish before replying with something brief and quiet that nevertheless worked immediately.
The staff member nodded once and moved away quickly.
Snape didn’t watch them go.
He was already moving again.
Sirius looked away first.
“Next, please.”
The rhythm picked up again without asking him.
The queue finally disappeared—not gradually, but all at once.
Sirius stood for a moment at the empty till before beginning the reset. For the first time in hours, nothing beeped.
He exhaled softly through his nose and stepped away.
The store felt different when it wasn’t actively trying to eat you alive.
At the end of the aisle, Snape was still there.
Still working.
Still correcting things that hadn’t asked to be corrected.
A till beeped nearby, and he dealt with it without even looking up.
Sirius slowed slightly.
“You planning to sleep here tonight?” he muttered.
Snape didn’t turn immediately. When he finally did, his expression remained flat and unimpressed.
“That implies I would choose to stay this long.”
His gaze flicked briefly toward Sirius before returning to the screen.
“I’m merely making sure the store survives your presence.”
Sirius let out a short laugh despite himself. “Right. Of course.”
Without looking, Snape reached to one side and lifted a plain paper cup alongside a wrapped pastry.
“As you can see,” he added dryly, “I’m extremely deprived.”
He set them back down.
Still half-smiling, Sirius shook his head and stepped backwards toward the staff door.
“See you tomorrow then, boss.”
No answer came.
Sirius pushed through the door, leaving the store behind where it belonged.