🎵 A duck walked up to a lemonade stand
And he said to the man, running the stand
"Hey! (Bum bum bum) Got any grapes?"
The man said
"No we just sell lemonade. But it's cold
And it's fresh 🎵
At nine years old, Remus Lupin was a failed businessman.
A gust of wind blew past and he slammed his hand down on the flimsy poster board that was his sign before it could fly away. He read it again.
LEMONADE. 1 DOLLAR PER CUP.
He had considered marking down the price a few times, but he had only sold one cup so far, and he couldn’t buy anything with one dollar. It would be better to just wait for someone to buy another cup at the current price than settle for one dollar and fifty cents, even if it might mean a faster sale.
The park bench was uncomfortable, to say the least. The metal at the top stuck out in one spot and it kept poking him in the back, and he had lost any feeling in his butt a long time ago. Still, he held onto his sign and cups and pitcher. He had made that lemonade himself, and he was going to sell it. Even if it meant sitting out in the sun for four hours and only earning one dollar.
A laugh came from the playground and his eyes drifted towards the sound. Two boys around his age were throwing sand at each other in the sandbox, one holding his long hair back with his hand, the other squinting, though not from the sun, since his glasses were hanging from the collar of his shirt. A toddler slid down the twisty slide. A girl with bright red hair was climbing on the monkey bars.
Remus ignored the part of himself that wanted to join the others on the play structure. He was here to make a profit, and he was failing. Now wasn’t the time for fun and games.
His biggest mistake was forgetting to bring his Monsters Inc watch. His mom had said she wanted him home by sunset, though, so he guessed that he had another two hours left.
The cloud that had been covering the sun passed, and the heat beat down on him, reminding him of just how thirsty he was. His eyes flicked to the pitcher. Well, since he wasn’t selling any lemonade anyway…
“Hey, got any grapes?”
Remus stiffened, startled. It was one of the boys from the sandbox. His dark curls hung on his shoulders, clearly tangled, and his ears were even redder than the rest of his flushed face. Probably a sunburn.
“Sorry, what?”
The boy repeated himself. “Got any grapes?”
“Why the fuck would I have any grapes?”
The boy’s eyes widened. Remus vaguely remembered something about being told not to curse in front of other kids, but he didn’t really care. There was a badly drawn duck on the boy’s shirt, and it was taunting him.
Duck Boy regained his composure and gave a sideways grin. “My name is Sirius.”
Remus narrowed his eyes. “Remus.”
“I like your name.”
He hesitated, not sure how to respond. “...Thanks. Why do you want grapes?”
Sirius just shrugged, shoved the pitcher to the side, and sat next to Remus on the bench. “I’m leaving the park in a few minutes to go back to my friend’s house. You should come with us.”
Remus glanced down at the duck on Sirius’ shirt, surely meant to be a warning about this boy’s sanity. “You just met me. We’re not even friends.”
“Sure we are!”
Remus was pretty sure that wasn’t how friendship worked, but he hadn’t exactly experienced it before, either. Not that he was going to tell Duck Boy that. “You don’t even know me. Name one thing you know about me.”
“I know that you’re cute,” Sirius said with a smile.
Remus bristled. The only people who called him cute were his aunt and his grandfather, both of whom would then croon about how much he’d grown since they last saw him. He stood, arms crossed. “You can’t be that much older than me.”
“No, not the way adults say it. Cute like the way boys talk about girls.”
Remus was practically fuming. “I’m not a girl, either.”
“No, but you are cute.” Sirius smiled, and his nose crinkled as he did.
Remus deflated, finally catching his meaning. His cheeks felt warm. Maybe he liked it if Sirius thought he was cute. Maybe because he thought Sirius was kind of cute, too.
Any warm feelings he had evaporated when he realized Sirius had just finished a cup of lemonade and was helping himself to another.
Remus snatched the pitcher away. “I hope you plan on paying for that.”
Sirius’ guilty smile said enough.
Remus glared and grabbed the cups and sign. He should have known better. Once he had a firm grip on his things, he turned to walk away.
“Wait!” Sirius ran to catch up to him. “If you come with me to James’ house, his mom can pay you.”
He shook his head. He had no reason to trust Duck Boy.
“In fact, she’ll pay twenty dollars for the rest of it.”
Now that made him pause. “Twenty dollars, huh?” That was easily worth double what was left in the pitcher.
“It’s really good lemonade,” Sirius said with a wink.
Remus’ face heated up again. “Hmm. Okay.”
“Yes!” Sirius jumped a solid foot in the air and turned to yell across the park to his friend. “James, we’re bringing Remus with us!”
“Okay!”
Maybe Remus’ business venture wasn’t a failure, after all.
Maybe he had made a couple friends out of it, too.
