Boundaries
A loud smack makes Remus jump in his chair, stirring him awake from his half-sleeping stage. He’s working the evening shift, but he hardly slept the past night. He thought a cup of coffee in the breakroom before he begins would help, but instead, he must have dozed off.
Now he’s staring at Sirius, who’s standing on the other side of the table with a wide grin. A pile of paper sits between them.
“There.”
Remus raises his brows. “What’s this?”
Sirius pulls a chair out from under the table and sits down. “It’s the plan. It’s everything I’m still going to do before selling the place. Black on white. All of it.” He taps the top of the stack with his fingers. “In there.”
“Hooray,” Remus says unenthusiastically.
Sirius pulls out a red pen from his pocket and slides it over the table, followed by the papers. “There. Leave them on my table when you’re done.” He places his palms on the table and stands up.
“Sorry, what?”
Sirius gestures to the stack. “I want to hear your opinion. There’s a lot of stuff in there, and we haven’t got a lot of time, so to be efficient, I need a second opinion. Maybe not all of it’s doable, maybe you think we should do something a little differently... you should let me know.” He smiles at Remus with such genuine pride that it makes him want to laugh.
“Excuse me?” he snorts. “Are you asking for my opinion?”
“Yes,” Sirius nods. “Not that you’ve been stingy with giving it anyway, but now you’ve got the chance to tell me exactly what you think. I can’t promise you I’ll listen to what you suggest, of course, but... well, that table thing, for example. You actually helped me save quite a bit there. I would’ve bought new ones if you hadn’t told me it was a stupid idea.”
“Uhh... thanks?”
“No, thanks to you.” Sirius smiles again and turns around to leave. Remus gapes at him.
“Sirius, what—what am I supposed to do with this? And why have you suddenly written it down like this? You had your notes before, and now you want me to mark your plan?”
The smile on the other man’s face fades a little. He hesitates, but Remus doesn’t look away from him. He wants answers.
In the end, Sirius returns to the table and sits down again. “The other day,” he starts, “someone came to me at the pub. After I’d come down from Alphard’s apartment. Sybil Trelawney – she’s from the company.”
“The company?”
“The company that my dad’s business partner owns. The potential buyer.”
Remus’s stomach turns nastily. “Oh,” he says.
“Yeah. And she wasn’t necessarily impressed with what she saw. Said she was here to have a quick glance, see what they’re getting into.”
“I thought they were only supposed to be coming just before Christmas!”
“Me too,” Sirius sighs. “But I told her we’re working on it, that the schedule’s been really tight and so we’ve only been able to do so much. She said, ‘I assume you have a plan.’”
“And you said, ‘Yes, of course.’”
“Yes, of course,” Sirius nods.
“And here it is.”
“I need to give it to Trelawney tomorrow at six in the evening.”
“And you want me to help you?”
“Like I said, I need a second opinion. It needs to be realistic.”
“So, what do you want me to do? Cross over everything I disagree with?”
“Not that,” Sirius says. “You’d just cross over everything. Just... see what I’ve written down and tell me what you think. You can be critical, obviously.”
Remus rubs his hands over his face, huffing. “Christ. You need it ready by six tomorrow?”
“Noon. I still need to rewrite it after your comments.”
He gapes at him. “By noon tomorrow? I still have a full shift ahead of me!”
Sirius digs in his pocket once again, this time pulling out his wallet. He opens it and casually takes out two hundred-pound notes, sliding them across the table. He smiles calculatedly. “Think you can do it?”
“You can’t buy me, Sirius, no matter how much money you have.”
Sirius frowns. “Obviously not. But if you do work for me, you ought to get paid for it, no?”
Remus hesitates, eyeing the notes in front of him. Two hundred pounds. It’s almost a third of his rent for the next month, and he still hasn’t bought his Christmas presents either. “I... I suppose I can do it,” he says, almost hating himself for it.
“Wonderful.”
“But on one condition.”
Sirius, already halfway up to his feet again, stops and raises his brows. “And what’s that?”
“You need to listen to me,” Remus says. “I want to read that new plan, and I want to see my handwriting in there. If you want my opinion, I’ll give it to you. But I need you to at least consider it, too.”
They look at one another for a long time. Finally, Sirius nods. “Of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be asking.”
Content, Remus nods too. “Okay. Then we have a deal. Tomorrow at noon.”
Sirius beams at him. “Knew I could trust you.” Then he turns on his heel and walks out, the wide legs of his suit trousers flowing just perfectly. Remus watches his receding back and flips him off, hoping one day he’ll get the chance to do it to his face. Maybe before Christmas.
***
Remus pushes open the door to James’s room, causing the other man to shout and throw a book at him from where he’s lying on the bed. “Oi! You could’ve knocked!” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “I almost peed my pants!”
“It was ajar,” Remus says, picking up the book and walking over to the bed. He drops it on the mattress and then places his hands on his hips, sighing loudly. It feels good, getting all of that anxious air out of his lungs.
“You okay?” James asks, seemingly recovered already.
“No,” Remus grits. He buries his face in his hands and groans. “I’ve turned on my own people!”
James blinks at him. “Sorry?” he asks through a laugh.
“I’m helping him sell the pub!”
“Oh?”
“He came there today with a plan. A full fucking plan, printed on paper. And he asked me to read it over for him, give my own opinion on things. To make it better.”
“Hm.”
“And today,” he checks his watch, “in approximately three hours, I’m supposed to be giving it back to him. I didn’t even realise what I was doing until I’d finished! I’m such a traitor!”
“Oh, Remus... You’re just doing your job.”
“I could’ve refused! But instead, I accepted his stupid money and did exactly as he told me.”
“You have to think about yourself, too. The pub’s getting sold, that much has already been established. You might as well make a bit more money out of it before it’s final.”
“No,” Remus shakes his head. “No, I’m going to burn the fucking plan and give him his money back. He can go fuck himself.”
“Remus, please.” James sighs, reaching out to touch his arm. “Some things are out of your control. Whether you burn that plan or not isn’t going to affect the end result.”
Remus groans, crashing down on the bed beside him. “Then I’m going to hate myself for the rest of my life.”
“Then you will. You’ve plenty of time to redeem yourself.”
He snorts, taking James’s pillow and shoving it in his own face. He shouts, the sound muffled but still loud. “What am I going to do?” he asks when he resurfaces. James looks at him sympathetically. “The days are passing, and I still haven’t stopped him from selling the place. And now I’m helping him.”
“Quit,” James says. It’s definitely meant as a joke, but it sets something off in Remus’s head. He puts the pillow aside and straightens up. “Oi, mate, I was joking.”
“I know, but... but maybe if he thinks I’m quitting, then—ah, never mind. He doesn’t fucking care, as long as he gets what he wants.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Egging yourself on. He’s not that bad. Actually, I’m starting to like him.”
“James.”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
Remus turns onto his side, propping his head against his hand. He and James stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, until Remus has to look away. He plucks at the corner of the pillow. “Why’d you tell Sirius you like Lily, but not me?”
James hesitates. “I... I guess it was easier. Because he doesn’t really know her. You, on the other hand... you’re both our friend. I didn’t want to get you involved.”
“But I want to be involved in your things, James! That’s why I’m your friend!”
“I thought it was because I’m unexplainably funny.”
“Ha, good one.”
“Moony... you’re my best friend. Nothing’s ever going to change that. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
Remus sighs. “It’s okay. I didn’t tell you either.”
James frowns. “Tell me what?”
“That everyone thinks I’m the funnier one out of us two. And the more handsome one, by loads.”
“You dick,” his friend laughs, grabbing the pillow and smacking him with it. Then he jumps up and starts wrestling him against the mattress. “No one thinks that! Not even you!”
“Alright, alright, you win,” Remus laughs, catching his breath as James finally rolls off him. His hair is tousled, and he looks so happy. “You’re the funnier one.”
“And...?”
“And the more handsome one... according to some.”
James smiles, letting his head drop against the mattress. “I’ll take it.”
“Is he at the pub?” Remus inquires, quietly.
“Sirius?”
“Yeah.”
“I think so. He left early.”
“Hnggh. I guess I should head there soon.”
“What’s in this grand plan of his?”
“It’s probably highly confidential.”
“Ah, yeah. I get it.”
“The chairs need to go, apparently. The cash register system has to be changed,” Remus lists. “We can no longer keep the money in the safety deposit box in the back, it needs to be better secured. Redesigning the menus. Painting the walls. Renovating the toilets.”
James blinks at him. “And how is he going to do all that in two weeks?”
“He can’t. That’s why he wanted me to go through it – to figure out what can sensibly be done in that time frame.”
“And did you figure it out?”
“Not really. But it’s better now. More manageable.” He bites his lip thoughtfully. “Fuck. Maybe I should burn it.”
“Moony, you’re not a bad person for helping him. Yeah, the pub’s getting sold, but what are you going to do?”
“You’ve already given up.”
James shrugs, weakly. “I don’t want him to sell it onwards, of course not. But Christmas is less than three weeks away. It would take a miracle for him to change his mind.”
“Yeah, I know...”
“Just give it back to him. But if that man doesn’t give you high praise when you ask him to recommend you for a new job...”
Remus laughs. He’s so grateful for his friend. “He better.”
James smiles at him. “Yeah, Remus. He better.”
***
It’s eleven o’clock. Sirius is sitting in the office, rocking back and forth on his chair. To say he’s nervous would be an understatement.
The whole morning, he has waited for Remus to come and see him. Poppy has kindly brought him tea to his desk, and he also joined her at the bar for a moment. He likes her, especially when it’s just the two of them. She’s extremely straight-forward but also unrelentingly caring. He feels comfortable around her.
Now he drains the dregs of his already cold tea and places the cup on the corner of his desk. There’s a knock on the open door, and he quickly stands up. “Remus,” he says, relieved, as the other man enters the room. Under one arm, he’s holding the written-down plan Sirius gave him yesterday. “Come in,” he says.
“Hi,” Remus replies, “Thanks.” He walks in and stops on the other side of the desk. “Well, I’ve got it here.”
“Thank you.” Sirius reaches his arms out, but Remus doesn’t budge. He merely stares at Sirius’s hands, as if contemplating whether he can trust them. “Uh... did you go through it?”
“Yeah. Every single word.”
“And?”
“There are a lot of things in here. Some good, some... not so great. But it’s way too much, anyway.”
“That’s why I asked you.”
“I know.”
“So...?” He inclines his head towards the stack of papers, trying to get the message through. His hands are itching to get it, now. He still has to do plenty of work to rewrite it.
Remus clutches the stack harder against his side. “You have to promise me one thing.”
“Okay?”
“The signature wall. That stays.”
Sirius deflates, letting out a sigh. If he was to have his say, that damn wall would be the first to go. But he needs whatever Remus has written down in the margins of those pages. He needs it so badly. “Fine,” he says then, throwing his arms out and letting them flop against his sides with an air of finality. “Fine, you get to keep your signature wall, ugly as it is.” He’ll find a way to work around it. It’s not the end of the world.
Remus smiles triumphantly and holds out his free hand. Sirius reaches over the desk to shake it. “Deal,” the other man says.
“Deal,” Sirius echoes. The pile of papers is pushed into his hands. He looks down at it, then back at Remus. “I can’t thank you enough. Really.”
“It almost fell into the pond on my way here. All of it.”
Sirius raises one eyebrow. “The pond’s frozen.”
“There’s a big enough hole in the ice.”
“Well, good thing it didn’t.”
“Yeah. Good thing.”
Sirius places the plan on the desk. “Well, I should get to work. Thanks again.”
Remus offers another smile, this one much tighter. “Yeah, no worries. Good luck with it.”
“Cheers. You’ll be coming in at four?”
“Yeah. Dorcas is coming at two, I think.”
“Alright. Well, see you then, I guess.”
Remus leaves the office, and Sirius sits down, finally with the papers in front of him. He flicks through them, raising his brows at the amount of red he sees. Full sentences marked here, large crosses drawn over points there. He huffs, flipping to the first page. Floorboards, the title says. There’s a large cross over the whole section, and on the bottom of the sheet, Remus has written, Not enough time to redo the whole flooring. Impossible.
The next two pages are clear of any markings. The section about the toilets, much to his surprise, also contains only one note: Sounds good. Just keep the fucking green tiles.
He chuckles to himself, turning another page. NOT THE WALL. Then another. You’re right, the menus could be clearer. Irrelevant, though. And another. Maybe, if we have extra time. (We don’t!!!)
Remus has clearly not held back with his comments, but Sirius can’t do anything but appreciate it. This is what he needs in order to actually get through with redoing the pub. Not every minor detail needs to be changed – it’s the bigger picture that matters. He’s glad he asked Remus to help him, once again. He needs to thank him properly, some time.
Eagerly, he starts his laptop and opens a clear document, beginning to type away. There’s no way he’s going to listen to all of Remus’s suggestions – he’d be left with hardly anything – but there’s some valuable stuff in that annotated pile of paper. For the first time since arriving, he feels confident in his ability to pull this off.
***
At a quarter to six, there’s another knock on the door. This time it’s Dorcas standing in the doorway to his office. “Hi, Si—uh, Mr Black,” she quickly corrects herself. Sirius appreciates her for it; it’s important his father’s partners think the employees regard him highly, even if that probably isn’t the case. “Ms Trelawney is here on Mr Mulciber’s behalf.”
“Perfect,” he smiles, willing his heartbeat to calm down. “Thank you, Dorcas. If you could close the door behind you.”
She nods and steps aside to let Sybil Trelawney into the room. The last time Sirius saw her, they were having Christmas dinner at her father’s estate. He might’ve had a few glasses of wine too many to remember how exactly he got home that night, but he’s been better since.
Trelawney pulls the door shut as Sirius stands up and walks over to greet her. “Evening,” he says, shaking her hand. “Come in, have a seat.”
“Thank you,” she says, joining him at the desk. He has, with questionable success, tried to tidy up the space in between rewriting the document. The freshly printed version now sits on the otherwise decluttered table.
“I hope you’re doing well,” Sirius smiles, taking a seat. He gestures to the chair opposite him, and Trelawney sits down. Her eyes drift immediately to the stack.
“Is this it?” she asks, tapping the cover. Straight to business, as usual.
Sirius nods. “Yes, that’s it. All of it.”
“Wonderful.”
“More ought to be done,” he admits, “but there’s only so much time. The information about Mr Mulciber potentially wanting to buy the place came shortly after Alphard’s death.”
“Yes,” Trelawney nods, diplomatically. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Black.”
Sirius waves her off. God, how he hates this. He has learned to put on a mask whenever he has to enter situations like this, but it makes him hate himself. Everybody is so fake, and Trelawney is certainly not even the worst of them.
“Well, I look forward to reading it,” she says, smiling her practised smile. She places her hands on the armrests of her chair and begins to get up. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss?”
“No, no,” Sirius says calmly. On the inside, he’s buzzing. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if you have any questions about what’s in there.” He stands up, too, and hands the printed plan to her. It’s now significantly lighter than when Remus gave it back to him.
“Thank you. I sure hope you go through with all of this.” She gives him a scrutinising look, masking it with that forced grin. It makes Sirius want to chase her out of his office.
“Of course,” he says, smiling back just as pretentiously. He rounds the table and walks her to the door. “Will you find your way out?”
“Yes, don’t worry.” They shake hands again, and then she disappears down the hallway. Sirius waits for a few minutes before following suit, stopping by at the breakroom. Dorcas is sitting at the table, eating her dinner.
She looks up as she hears him enter. “How was it?” she asks, curiously.
Sirius shrugs. “Just as it should have been, I hope.”
“That’s good.”
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” She smiles slyly and adds, “Mr Black.”
Sirius lets out a small chuckle. “Yeah... I’ll check on Remus and then head off.”
She smiles and nods at him. Sirius waves his goodbye and then continues his way into the pub. There, he finds Remus bent over the counter with his face buried in his hands. He doesn’t seem to notice Sirius’s presence until he clears his throat. “You okay?” he asks.
Remus looks up for a second and then returns to his previous position. “Could you call Poppy? I think I’m getting a migraine. A bad one.”
Sirius, suddenly slightly alarmed, nods. “Oh. Shit, yeah. Uh... do you need anything?”
Remus shakes his head. “I already took my meds, but I think I was too late. I can stick around if she can’t come and fill in for me, but—”
“No, no, I’ll call her,” Sirius says hastily, already fishing for his phone in his pocket. He finds Poppy’s number and presses the call button. She picks up quickly.
“Hello, Sirius,” she says, sounding only mildly surprised.
“Hi, Poppy, sorry to bother you, I know you’re already done for the day,” he winces. “Uh, Remus here is getting a migraine, and so I was wondering if you’d be able to come in and cover for him? I understand if—”
“I’m on my way,” Poppy says briskly. “Don’t you worry, dear, I had nothing planned for tonight.”
Sirius sighs in relief. “Thank you, Poppy. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Don’t be silly, I’m happy to help.” She promptly ends the call.
Sirius shoves his phone back in his pocket and walks to Remus again, placing a hand on his shoulder. He’s shaking under his touch. “She’s coming, okay? I’ll go get Dorcas, we need to get you to lie down...”
“No, no, she’s on her break,” Remus counters, straightening up so fast he sways to the side. Sirius catches him by the arm. “I can wait. It’s okay.”
Sirius eyes the cold sweat on his forehead and the way he’s squinting against the overhead lights. He sighs. “Come on, she won’t mind. She can finish eating when Poppy arrives.”
He runs to the back to get Dorcas, who drops everything immediately to help her friend out. “I’m sorry,” Sirius says as they walk down the corridor, “You can continue your break as soon as Poppy’s here.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she says. They enter the pub, where Remus has yet again returned to his suffering position. She tuts sympathetically. “Oh, off you go, honey. You look horrible.”
Remus pushes himself up and smiles at her weakly, accepting the gentle hug she gives him. “Thanks, Cas,” he murmurs. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Hush, now. It’s all okay. Go and rest.”
Sirius hovers there awkwardly, unsure of whether he should help Remus get to the back or if he can walk by himself. In the end, he merely stays close to him just in case he might stumble or fall. “I’ll walk home,” Remus sighs when they finally make it to the breakroom. He leans against the kitchen counter while Sirius gathers his things.
He turns to look at him. “No, you won’t,” he says firmly. “Not in that condition. Absolutely not.”
“Then what am I going to do? Stay here?” Remus scoffs. He has his eyes closed. Sirius winces and quickly rushes to turn off the lights.
“No,” he tuts. “You can go up into Alphard’s apartment, sleep the migraine off there.”
“No, I—”
“Nuh-uh, Remus. I won’t let you go out there when you can hardly hold yourself up. The apartment’s empty, and it’s literally right there. I’ll make the bed for you.”
“No, Sirius,” Remus groans, cracking his eyes open to look at him. “That’s too much to ask for.”
Sirius, having finally gathered all of Remus’s belongings and taken the key from the medicine cabinet, returns to the man himself. He stands in front of him and stares at him incredulously. “Too much to ask for? Oh, you’re ridiculous! I’ve asked you for so many things over the past few weeks. This is the least I can do.”
Remus opens and closes his mouth, hesitantly. “But...”
Sirius places a hand on his shoulder and steers him towards the door. “It’s decided. Come on.”
He guides Remus across the corridor and then through the pub, waving a final goodbye to Dorcas. “Call me if you need anything,” he says. She nods and smiles at them sympathetically.
Getting up the stairs is difficult. Remus’s feet are carrying him, but it seems he’s almost completely lost his vision, bumping into the wall with every step he takes. Sirius doesn’t let go of him once, afraid he might go tumbling down the stairs if he does.
He fumbles with the key in the dark. He has to get the light changed, but he supposes it’s a good thing it’s out now that Remus can’t bear the brightness. He finally manages to open the door and usher the other man in. Remus kicks off his shoes.
“Wait on the couch,” Sirius instructs, walking him over and helping him sit down. Remus keels over, pressing his fingers to his temples, hard. “Is it hurting?”
“Like a bitch,” Remus hisses. “It’s fine, the medication...”
“You don’t need anything else?”
“I already took a lot.”
“Okay. I’ll make the bed for you.” He rushes over to the cabinets and begins scouring for clean sheets. He tries not to think about the unsettling fact he’s rummaging through Alphard’s old clothes. “Is it okay if I turn the lights on for a second?” he asks. “Sorry, it’s just hard to see.”
“It’s okay.”
He goes to flick on the lights, stopping just before he touches the switch. “Cover your eyes,” he says. Remus does as he’s told, covering his head with his arms for good measure. Sirius runs back to the cabinets and continues his search.
“On the far right,” Remus instructs him from the sofa. Sirius hurries to open the other door, sighing in relief as he finally manages to pull out sheets and a pillowcase. He makes the bed hastily and then returns to the light switch. The room turns dark again. Blindly, he makes his way to Remus and helps him get up.
He manages to get him to the bed without them bumping into too many corners, and finally, Remus gets to lie down. He pulls the duvet over himself and rolls onto his side. Sirius looks at his hazy outline in the darkness. “Thank you,” Remus croaks. “I’ll be fine from here.”
“I’ll stick around a bit longer,” Sirius says, mildly panicked. “Can I get you something else? Anything that might help?”
“Er…” Remus hesitates. “Well, I tend to throw up when I get a migraine. After the medication kicks in. So...”
“I’ll find a bucket. Maybe a cold towel, too? To put on your head.”
Remus lets out a quiet sigh. “Thanks, Sirius.”
As the other man keeps resting, Sirius stumbles around in the dark apartment, grabbing first a towel from the same cabinet as the sheets. He goes into the kitchen and turns the tap on, waiting until the water is as cold as it can get. Then he soaks the towel and wrings it dry. He takes it to Remus, who accepts it with a small ‘thank you’ and places it on his head, letting out a content sound. “God, that feels nice,” he says.
Sirius is glad to be of help, finally. He goes next to the cleaning cupboard and pulls out a bucket, which he places on the floor beside the bed. “Aim for that if you need to vomit,” he says.
Remus grunts in acknowledgement. “You don’t have to stick around,” he mumbles. “Once I fall asleep, I’m usually gone for a few hours.”
“I can wait until you’re sleeping. Make sure you’re okay.”
“Sirius, there’s really no need...”
“No, no, I mean it. I don’t want to leave you here alone. What if something happens?”
Remus sighs. “This isn’t the first time this is happening.”
“I know, but... still. It’s okay. I can read or something. I don’t mind.”
“Okay...” The bedsheets rustle a little as Remus alters his position. He lets out a small groan. “I hate this.”
“Just try and relax, okay?”
Remus doesn’t respond. Sirius stays still for a moment before sitting down on the sofa. He stares at his own hands, only the wan glow of the streetlamp outside offering a little bit of light. He doesn’t know how he can help Remus more. He’s never had a migraine himself, but he remembers how bad Regulus’s were when he was a child. He used to scream in his bedroom while their parents just told him to remain quiet and get through it. It wasn’t until he once nearly fainted that they finally took him to see a doctor.
He pulls out his phone and makes sure the screen brightness is turned all the way down. The next ten minutes, he spends researching ways to ease a migraine. He knows he can’t do much since Remus has already downed his medicine, but even the small things might help. So, he gets up and pads over to the bed.
“Can you turn around?” he whispers. He knows Remus isn’t asleep – he keeps making quiet noises of discomfort.
“Hm?”
“I said, can you turn around? Onto your stomach.”
After a moment’s hesitation, the sheets rustle again as Remus rolls over onto his belly. Sirius kneels on the edge of the mattress and hovers his hands over him. Then he places them gently on Remus’s shoulders and digs into the muscle. Remus tenses up a little, then lets out another relieved sigh. “Is this okay?” Sirius asks, stopping momentarily. There’s more rustling as Remus either nods or shakes his head. “Was that a no?”
“No.”
“So, it was a yes?”
“Yes,” Remus says, face smushed against the pillow. “Feels... nice.”
Content, Sirius continues massaging his shoulders and upper back, then moves onto his head, drawing gentle circles on the nape of his neck with his thumbs, the rest of his fingers pressed against his scalp. “Harder,” Remus murmurs.
Sirius applies more pressure, drawing a small sound from Remus. “This okay?”
“Yeah... Thank you.”
Sirius finds it quite therapeutic, and admittedly a tad odd, working his fingers into the tense muscles of Remus’s neck in the darkness. At least he knows he’s helping by easing the pain. It’s better than sitting on the sofa, idle while his companion suffers.
After a while, Remus’s breathing stills. Sirius keeps on a minute or two longer, gently, before shifting off the bed and stepping back. He carefully rolls Remus onto his side to make sure he won’t choke on his own sick in case he throws up, then pulls the cover over his shoulders. He’s finally asleep, hopefully at least for a little while.
Sirius tiptoes into the kitchen and fills up a glass of water, carrying it onto the bedside table. Then he takes to inspecting the apartment again, careful not to shine the flashlight on his phone anywhere in Remus’s direction. He goes through the bookshelf and picks something to read for later, then looks at the photo frames on one wall. They’re mostly photos of people he doesn’t recognise. Alphard is in some of them, and Remus and Poppy both make a few appearances. Fleamont and Euphemia, too. All the people Alphard called family, in the absence of his real one.
He moves into the kitchen next, inspecting the magnets and photographs on the fridge door. It seems Alphard travelled to a few places – Spain, Wales, Scotland, France... The photos here are different. Less in focus but more personal. There’s one of a man Sirius hasn’t seen before, with short hair and a wide smile. It seems to be taken on Alphard’s couch, he realises. In another one, the faces of young Alphard, Euphemia, and Monty beam at him. One of them is of Poppy in a beautiful red dress. Sirius smiles to himself.
He returns to the sofa shortly and begins reading the book he picked out – Le Petit Prince. His French is definitely a little rusty, but the text is easy enough to read. He didn’t know Alphard had spoken French too, but perhaps it makes sense.
After reading for a while, he flicks to the beginning again. He’s not sure why he does it – on instinct, maybe – but something catches his attention. On the inside of the book’s cover, there’s a small inscription written in pencil.
Pour mes petits princes, R et S.
– Alphard
He frowns. Suddenly, a memory pops up in his head, though he doesn’t know if it’s merely a product of his imagination. He doesn’t remember receiving the book from Alphard, but he does remember a Christmas when he was very young and Alphard came over for dinner. Something had sparked a huge fight, and the evening ended with Orion kicking their uncle out of the house. The last thing Alphard did before leaving was run up the stairs and into the den, where the grand bookshelves stood. He had something in his hand as he slipped out of the door, a small item that Sirius couldn’t see properly.
That was the last time he saw Alphard. Now he knows what he carried out of the house with him.
It makes him oddly emotional. Perhaps Alphard had known he wouldn’t return and had chosen this one book as his keepsake. This book that he had given to Sirius and Regulus when they must have been only toddlers. God, and here he is, selling his pub.
He sets the book aside. He makes sure Remus is still sleeping on his side and then, as quietly as he can, he leaves the apartment and pads down the stairs. Poppy and Dorcas greet him with a litany of questions the second he walks back into the pub.
“Is he okay?” Dorcas inquires.
“Did he fall asleep already?” Poppy continues. “Did you give him water?”
“Was he really hurting? Did he have his meds?”
“He’s sleeping,” Sirius nods. “He took the meds, but he thought he might have been too late. He has water and a bucket next to the bed.”
Poppy smiles gratefully. “Thank you for taking care of him, Sirius. I can go check on him when I leave, if you leave the key here. You should go home.”
Sirius might object, but he’s exhausted and a little baffled by the book he found. He could really do with a good night’s sleep.
He leaves the pub and walks back to the house in silence. It has started snowing, and everything around him is so quiet and peaceful, it makes him emotional all over again. He’s not sure what’s got into him.
He falls asleep immediately after lying down, dreaming that night of planets and lonelines