Traditions
There’s a sharp knock on Sirius’s door. Having just finished changing from his work attire into a slightly more laid-back jumper, he hurries to open. James stands on the other side.
“I’m almost ready,” Sirius says, “Thanks.”
James glares at him quietly. “I didn’t come up to get you.”
“Oh… okay.”
“I wanted to ask you something before dinner. About your work.”
“Uh... alright?” He suddenly feels a little nervous. James looks much less kind than usually.
“I spoke with Remus,” the other man explains. It’s all Sirius needs to hear, but he continues, “And I know it’s none of my business, and my mother would kill me if she knew I’d confronted you about this, but... are you really selling the pub?”
Sirius huffs, blinking at him. “It really is a small village,” he says.
“So, it’s true?”
“I... have no interest in continuing what my uncle started. I’m sorry, James, but that’s the truth. We believe Alphard’s will be in better hands with—”
“That’s bullshit,” James counters fiercely. “In better hands with a huge company than with Poppy? Or Remus? You can’t possibly believe that.”
Sirius shrugs. “I don’t know these people, James. This isn’t personal.”
“Yeah, you don’t know these people,” James says, “which is why you shouldn’t be the one responsible for their future. Or the pub’s future, for that matter.”
“Well, Alphard left it to me, so...”
“You lied to my mum’s face. The other day, when she told you to go and check out the pub. You didn’t even bother telling us you’d inherited it.”
“I didn’t want to make the situation awkward.”
“And when are you going to tell them? Because they will find out eventually, and Sirius, my parents are kind people, but...”
“They don’t appreciate being lied to?”
“No.”
“Well, good thing they won’t see me again after I leave.”
“Sirius,” James sighs, looking at him pleadingly. “I know it’s not my place to say this, but I’ve got to say it anyway. If there’s any way this could all turn out differently... I’m begging you to consider it.”
Sirius offers him a tight smile. “Should we head down?”
After a moment’s hesitation, James seems to give up. He steps aside and lets Sirius exit his room. “If you want their respect, you’ll tell them yourself.”
Quite uncomfortable now, Sirius begins descending the stairs. “I don’t need their respect, James,” he says, “I need to get my job done.”
***
Dinner with the Potters runs smoothly, in Sirius’s opinion. He feels a little awkward around James after the confrontation, but Euphemia and Fleamont are kind as ever. He knows why James wants him to tell them the truth, but personally, he doesn’t see the point. It’s true that they will find out eventually, but he’s going to be gone before Christmas anyway. He’ll never see these people again.
“So, Sirius... how are you liking the village so far?” Fleamont asks. “I know there’s not a lot to see, but...”
“It’s nice. A bit too small for me,” he chuckles.
“Yeah? Where are you from again?”
“London.” To change the subject, he gestures to his plate with his fork. “This tastes wonderful.”
“Thank you, Sirius. You said you work for your father’s company?”
“Yes. Yeah, I do.”
“And how’s that for you? I’m sure James here sometimes wishes he didn’t work with his parents,” Euphemia hums.
James looks up from his plate. “No, I don’t,” he says. He glances at Sirius meaningfully.
Euphemia turns to her son with a frown. “James, dear, are you alright?”
“Mhm.”
“Apologies,” she murmurs, smiling at Sirius. “Do you have any siblings, dear?”
“One,” Sirius nods, quickly chewing his mouth empty. The food is some of the best he’s ever had – and he has eaten in a nice restaurant or two. “I have a younger brother. He also works for my dad’s company, back in London.”
“Ah. That must be nice, having the whole family together.”
He clears his throat. He certainly has nothing to complain about, but he doesn’t necessarily like his family, either. They can be very selfish and thoughtless sometimes, especially when money is involved. Sirius supposes he’s no better.
“Oh, look at that,” Fleamont says suddenly, glancing at his watch. “It’s already eight! I’m heading down to the pub with some of my friends, but you’re more than welcome to join us. I’m sure everyone would love to meet Alphard’s nephew.”
“Oh. It’s okay, I... I’m quite tired, actually. Thank you.”
“Thank you for joining us for supper,” Euphemia says, getting up from her chair. “It was lovely, speaking with you more.”
“No, thank you for inviting me. Can I help with the dishes?”
“Oh, it’s quite alright, dear. If you’d like to help me carry them into the kitchen, that would be kind.”
“Yes, of course.” Sirius stands up and starts gathering all their plates into a pile. All four of them then empty the table together, after which Fleamont disappears upstairs to change his clothes. Sirius puts his hands in his back pockets and watches as Euphemia starts loading the dishwasher. “The food was delicious,” he says. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t you worry, Sirius. We like having more people eat with us, usually it’s just the three of us,” she chuckles. “Is everything okay for you in your room? You don’t need anything?”
“No, thank you. Everything’s perfect.”
“That’s wonderful. And are you working tomorrow?”
“Oh, yeah. Early, I think.”
“Ah, that’s a shame. We were thinking of doing our annual Christmas tree trip, and there’s still space in the car. But of course, I understand you’re busy.”
“Oh. Er, thank you. Sounds lovely, but I don’t think I can make it tomorrow.”
“That’s alright, dear. Maybe you can help decorate it later.” She smiles at him and continues cleaning the kitchen. Sirius’s eyes trail to James, who inclines his head towards the doorway, raising his brows in a way that makes it seem he has something pressing to say to him.
“Thanks again,” Sirius says as he follows the other man out. “Best supper I’ve had in a while.”
“Oh, thank you, love. Good night, boys.”
“Good night.”
James stomps up the stairs, Sirius hurrying to keep up. “Slow down,” he pants. “Are you still angry with me?”
“I think you’re being unfair. She thinks you’re working remotely for your dad’s business, not trying to get the pub sold.”
“Yes, and maybe it’s better that way.”
“Why? So you don’t have to explain it to her?”
“Because there’s nothing she can do to stop me,” Sirius huffs. They’ve finally reached the landing. James turns to him, sharply. “I mean it, James. I don’t need this going around the whole village.”
“You know everyone would hate you.”
“I don’t care if everyone here loathes me. I just don’t want any outside distractions. It’ll happen, and the less people know about it beforehand, the better.”
James sighs. “You don’t feel bad at all?”
Sirius shrugs, indifferent. It’s not like he’s necessarily enjoying what he’s doing, but it’s just business. If he brought feelings into it, he wouldn’t be very efficient. “It’s nothing personal,” he says to James as he begins opening the door to his room. “I’ll be gone after it’s done. Don’t worry.”
“So, what doesn’t concern you isn’t for you to worry about?”
Sirius smiles tightly. “Exactly. Good night, James.”
The other man looks at him like he has plenty to say, but, in the end, he simply mutters, “Good night.”
***
The day has been horrible. Sirius has finally finished sorting all of the paperwork and reorganising what Alphard has left a mess – which is most things. He may have been liked by the entire village, but he wasn’t necessarily as on top of things as it might’ve seemed on the outside.
Glad to finally be back at the house, Sirius strips off his winter clothes and takes a deep breath. It smells delicious again, like oranges and something sweet, maybe homemade biscuits. As he steps into the corridor, he suddenly catches the merry voices from the den. His curiosity peaking, he walks over quietly and peers in.
The sight catches him off guard. James is there with both his parents and the woman Sirius saw Remus with the other day – Lily, he remembers. Remus is there too, sporting a jumper with a huge ‘R’ on the chest. They’re all gathered around a large pine tree, each of them with either lights, garland, or ornaments in their arms. Every one of them is laughing.
Euphemia notices him first, her face lighting up. “Oh, Sirius! You’re just on time.” Smiling, she walks to him and hands him a bundle of tangled Christmas lights. “Could you help Remus put these up? I’m afraid Monty and I are no longer qualified to get up on the chair.” She chuckles and ushers him further in. Reluctantly, Sirius obeys.
James looks at him as he joins them by the Christmas tree. He nods in greeting but doesn’t offer even half a smile. Sirius nods back. Then his eyes flick to Remus, who just then happens to glance his way. He freezes for a second. “I’ll grab a drink,” he says then, shoving the lights in his hands to Lily.
“Oh, wonderful idea,” Fleamont booms, seemingly oblivious to what’s actually happening. “Let me come and help you. Mulled wine, anyone?”
“Thank you,” Lily smiles.
“James? Sirius?”
“Sure,” James murmurs, trying his best to detangle his own string of lights.
“Thank you, that would be lovely,” Sirius says. He watches as Remus rolls his eyes and then follows Fleamont out of the room. Then, with his cheeks burning, he starts to fumble with the lights. He glances at Lily, who isn’t even looking his way. She must have heard, then. He’s not surprised.
James climbs up on the chair and begins clipping the fake candles onto the tree branches, one by one. He’s humming quietly under his breath to the music playing in the background. Sirius clears his throat. “Need any help?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
“Okay...” He looks at Lily again, who now offers him a very faint smile. It’s nothing like the one he saw on her face the other day.
“Sirius, you should know that we do this every year,” Euphemia beams from behind him. “It’s a bit of a tradition of ours, getting together to decorate the tree. I’m glad you decided to join us.”
‘Join us’ is a bit of a misleading expression, but he just smiles back at her. He supposes it’s nice, hanging around all of them. Not that he’s there to ‘hang around’ in the first place.
Remus returns shortly, pointing towards the kitchen. “Monty’s getting the mulled wine and biscuits ready.”
“Thank you, dear,” Euphemia smiles. She’s now busy setting up a green garland on the mantelpiece. Remus pats his hands against his thighs, seemingly unsure of what to do next. In the end, he makes his way over to Sirius and begins sorting through a box of ornaments.
“Finished everything at the office?” he asks, conversationally.
Sirius glances at him, then away. “Yeah, everything’s sorted now with the paperwork.”
“Oh?” Remus turns to him curiously. It lasts only for a moment, after which he’s back to staring down at the box. “Does that mean you’ll move onto the pub now?”
“Yeah,” Sirius says. “Tomorrow.”
The other man raises his brows, unamused. “Great.”
“Are you on shift tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“Right.”
It’s true – Remus is there most days, either working behind the counter or just loitering around. Sirius has thought more than once that maybe he keeps showing up to keep an eye on him. It’s likely.
“So, what’s it going to be like? You want to paint the place? Reorganise?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Sirius says, slowly.
“Of course not.”
“Look, it’s not like I exactly enjoy this either.”
“That doesn’t really make me feel better, actually.”
“It wasn’t supposed to.”
“Shocker.”
Sirius huffs, dropping the lights on the counter. He turns to Remus and places his hands on his hips. “Maybe it’d be easier for you too, if you stopped being such a git about it.”
Remus raises his brows at the ornaments. “Maybe everything would be easier if you stopped being such a git. About everything.”
“Ha.”
“Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”
Sirius halts at hearing the odd change in Remus's tone. “Yeah?”
“Alphard’s funeral.”
“I… don’t think I’ve been invited.”
“Who’s going to stop you?"
"Well, I'm not really prepared for a funeral in the first place."
"Maybe if someone from your family had reached out after Alphard passed, you would’ve heard about it earlier.”
“Who’s organising it, then?”
“Poppy, obviously.”
“Ah. I’d be happy to aid her. Money-wise, I mean. It’s not cheap.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
Sirius sighs. “I’m offering to help.”
“Cheers,” Remus grits. “It’s on the twenty-second.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s… that’s going to be a bit problematic—”
“Remus!” Fleamont’s voice carries from the kitchen. “I could use a hand with these drinks!”
“Coming!” Remus steps back and gives him one last empty look. “It’s not my problem. And, you know, it costs nothing for you to be considerate towards us,” he says. “But it will cost us everything if you choose not to be.”
“It’s not about being considerate. Selling the pub is what I’m here to do, and that’s it.”
“It’s your choice,” Remus points out. He shrugs. “Whatever. I don’t think I can change your mind.” With that, he turns and leaves the room again. Sirius watches him go, his stomach turning uneasily. It seems that every person he knows here hates him – and he can’t really blame them. What he said to James was true – he couldn’t care less if no one in this town likes him – but he’s not exactly looking to make enemies, either. That’s the reason he wants it to stay a secret for as long as possible. To make it all easier.
“Sirius, dear,” Euphemia calls, “Could you fetch the last box from the hallway? I think I left my favourite candelabrum in there, and it would look gorgeous on the mantlepiece.”
James looks at her over his shoulder. His eyes flick to the windowsills, and then the dresser in the corner. “You don’t think we already have enough?”
His mother scoffs, lightly. “Nothing’s ever enough when it comes to Christmas decorations.” She turns to Sirius and winks.
Sirius smiles back, eyes flitting to the doorway where Remus and Fleamont are now coming back, both bearing a tray full of mugs and snacks. “Yes,” he says, although he strongly disagrees.