An: Okay, so it's a drabble, and it's slash, and the shop exists. Although it's actually a chain, so he wouldn't have to go all the way to Stratford. I know for a fact the same shop is in Manchester as well. However, I'm pretty sure Sirius doesn't know that, ignorant as he is about tea in all its mighty forms. And now I'm going to stop writing, because the An is going to be longer than the fic. Enjoy.v

Smoke and Raspberries

Smoke and raspberries. It was what he tasted of. It was from the tea that he drank. The exotic concoction that he had to buy from a specific shop in Stratford. It wasn't cigarette smoke; oh no, Remus Lupin was far too sensible to smoke. Sirius, the other hand, was far too clever not to smoke. A mist of smoke gave him a mysterious edge that for several years only his long hair could provide. Of course, Azkaban had put paid to any ambitions of being a serious chain smoker. And happy memories. But the taste of smoke and raspberries. That, that was not a happy memory. That was part of his being. He didn't remember who he was before he had found out that Remus – quiet, intelligent, adorable Remus – tasted like smoke and raspberries. It was so rooted into his soul that the memory of it made him sad. Sad because it had been taken away from him. Which, of course, kept the dementors happy. When he escaped, the first thing he did was go to that shop. That little shop that smelt so wonderfully of Remus. He went there and imagined he was home.