Memories
“Sorry! Sorry,” Remus pants, barging in through the door. Poppy and Sirius are standing on the other side of the bar counter, and they both look at him with raised brows. He stops in his tracks and bends over to get his breathing in order. “Sorry, I’m so late.”
Sirius makes a show of checking the watch on his wrist. He has a kitchen towel slung over one shoulder. “Well, only by an hour,” he says dryly.
Remus cusses to himself as he joins them behind the counter. “I’m sorry,” he says again, mostly aiming it at Poppy. He does feel bad for the fact that Sirius has clearly had to fill in for him – but not too bad. “I... overslept. Alarm didn’t work or something.”
Poppy waves him off with an understanding smile. “You can be late once a year, it’s not the end of the world.”
Sirius glances at her, then at Remus. “Did you have a nice night, at least?” he asks, the tone of his voice implying that he knows exactly why Remus is late. And fine, maybe the fact that he went to bed with Beck has something to do with the fact that he then forgot to set an alarm for the morning, but can he really be blamed for that?
“Yes,” he answers Sirius’s question, not elaborating. “I’ll, uh... I’ll go and change in the back.”
“You do that.”
Feeling his cheeks start to burn, Remus quickly rushes through the door that leads to the back. He leaves his stuff on the table and then finds his apron on the back of a chair and quickly ties it around his waist. Then, taking a deep breath, he returns to the two others.
“Sorry again,” he says as he goes to wash his hands.
“It happens,” Sirius replies. He doesn’t sound too vexed, at least.
“I can stay an hour extra today.”
“We can see how busy it gets, you probably don’t have to.”
“Yeah, okay...”
“He’s nice, that Beck.”
“Please, don’t—”
“What? I was just saying,” Sirius says calmly. “He helped us with the drums and all.”
Remus glares at him and crouches to fill the fridges with cans. “Were you out late?” he asks, not out of courtesy but to change the subject. The last thing he wants to discuss is Beck and his kindness, as lovely as last night was.
“Maybe until midnight,” Sirius replies, thankfully dropping the teasing. “A lot of people stayed, though, for a weekday.”
“Hm. That’s Christmas party season for you, I guess.”
“I really enjoyed the charity event. It’s a nice tradition.”
Remus nods, getting up to move to the other fridge. “It’s great,” he agrees. To sound polite, he adds, “It was nice of you to participate.”
“Yeah. Remus, I’m sorry about, uh...” He lowers his voice and glances at Poppy, presumably to see if she’s listening. Luckily for him, she’s just left the counter and gone to light the candles on the tables. “Look, I know why you’re pissed off. I should’ve told James’s parents already.”
“Sirius, I really don’t care how sorry you are. You haven’t told them, and that says plenty.”
“I’m not eager to see how they’ll react.”
“Do you think it’ll get any better, the longer you keep lying to them? Jesus. I’d call you a coward if you weren’t my boss.”
Sirius looks at him in amusement. “Did you just call me a coward?”
“No, of course not.”
“You want to, though.”
“Yeah, and it’s enough that you know that.” Smiling to himself, Remus begins shoving glass bottles of beer into the fridge. He’s feeling oddly happy, despite the start he’s had to his morning. Maybe it’s because he can still picture what Beck’s arms felt like around him. God, he really has been deprived of physical affection.
“You’re on a different planet,” Sirius tuts beside him.
“Hm?” Remus frowns. “No, I’m not.”
“I just asked you a question.”
“What?” He stops what he’s doing and looks at Sirius sceptically. “Did you?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you ask?”
“I said, were you supposed to meet with Lily this morning?”
Remus merely keeps staring at him until he realises. He springs up to his feet and turns to meet an expectant-looking Lily on the other side of the bar counter. “Lily,” he breathes. “Shit, I forgot.”
“Figured,” she says, rolling her eyes as she slides onto a stool. “You at least owe me a coffee.”
“I’m sorry,” he winces, getting to it right away. The pot is freshly brewed, thankfully, so he pours her a cup and brings it over before she has a chance to complain. “I had it in my calendar as well, I just didn’t look at it this morning.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Lily says, gratefully reaching for the mug. She takes a sip and hums. “Tastes as bad as it always does. Perfect.”
Remus laughs and flips her off. “It’s our specialty,” he says.
“Mhm. Excellent beer and egregious coffee.”
“You’re the one who asked for it.”
“Remus?”
“Hm?”
“Have you anything to share about last night?”
Remus sends her a blank look. “No.”
“Aw, come on!”
“Why is everyone here so fucking nosey?”
Lily gapes at him. “I’m your best friend!”
“Uh, Remus?”
They both turn to look at Sirius, who is pointedly inclining his head towards the till. Remus swivels around to find an older man standing there, waiting. “Sorry,” he murmurs, quickly abandoning Lily to greet the customer. “Hi, morning, what can I get you?” he asks cheerily.
“Do you serve coffee?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Is it any good?”
“It’s... wonderful, sir.”
The man nods, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll have one of those, then,” he says.
Remus types the sum into the cash register. At the other end of the counter, Lily snorts and manages to get coffee all over her shirt. Remus turns to the customer, suppressing his smile. “One pound fifty, please,” he says.
***
One would think that after thirteen hours of work, the thought of going home would be nothing short of a dream. But Sirius can’t, for the life of him, leave before he has finished everything. Never mind that his eyes are barely staying open anymore – he cannot give himself any slack. Christmas is drawing nearer each passing second, and he still had the mind to attend a charity event and its afterparty last night. No wonder he feels like he’s been run over by a truck.
Just as he is about to go to the front and get himself a cup of coffee – yes, he’s that desperate – his phone starts ringing on the table. It’s his father, which makes him really want to simply ignore it. But, of course, he can’t do that. Rubbing a hand over his face, he picks up.
“Sirius.”
“Dad.”
“I got a call from Mulciber.”
He swallows, his nerves spiking. “And?”
“What on earth have you been doing?”
“Well, I’ve just—”
“A plan?”
“Listen, his assistant showed up and—”
“And what? Did I give you permission to write out a plan? Did I?!”
“Well, no, but—”
“And did I tell you it was okay to cut back on renovating the pub? I told you to do what you have to in order to get it sold, and now you’ve scared off our potential buyers.”
“I didn’t scare them off! They’re still interested.”
“I didn’t ask you to meddle with the deal. You were supposed to go there and sell the pub, simple as that.”
“Yes, father.”
“Writing down a plan... my lord.”
“Well, at least they know what they’re getting!”
“And what if you don’t manage to go through with your plan? They will never buy the place!”
“It’s not my fault they came in unannounced!”
“How you haven’t managed to do anything there yet is beyond me.”
Perhaps they aren’t moving as quickly as Sirius initially planned, but there’s still been progress. He could very well have torn down everything and started from the beginning, but the more time he’s spent at the pub, the more he’s started to think it’s important also to preserve the authenticity of the place. Regardless of how good the food is, no one will go to a soulless place, especially in a village like this.
“I have done things,” he insists. “I’ve spoken with the people at the pub and heard their opinions, and I’ve renovated the toilets, I’m working on the furniture, and—”
“Sirius! For Christ’s sake, you’re supposed to be selling in two weeks!”
“Yes, I know, but—”
“You will finish what you started. I didn’t send you there on holiday. You have one job, and if you don’t even have it in you to get that done...”
“But—”
“I gave you this one year, Sirius. This one year. Regulus has proved himself worthy of the company time after time now, while you spent a few years doing whatever you bloody wanted – drinking, loitering around, playing around with that so-called band of yours... No other employer would have looked at you for as long as I have.”
“Well, you’re my father too, so...”
“Sometimes I think it would be easier if I wasn’t,” Orion says dully.
Sirius wants to end the call, scared he won’t be able to control his anger, but he knows it would only lead to more arguing. If there’s one thing his father hates, it’s being disrespected – and Sirius has a long history of doing just that.
“All I’m saying is, Alphard’s is actually doing really good. I think that selling it—”
“Did I ask you what you think? Who’s the one with decades of experience in the business?”
“You won’t even let me finish my sentences.”
“That’s because I know what you’re going to say already. It was a mistake, sending you alone. Your brother is much harder to convince, and that’s a good thing.”
“That’s just a kind way of saying he doesn‘t care what other people think or feel.”
“Enough. You knew what you were getting into when you left, and now you’re to keep your promise like any respectable businessman. I don’t give a damn how you do it, but that pub needs to be ready for sale by Christmas Eve. I’ve already spoken with Gregory after hearing of this so-called plan of yours and corrected your mistakes. We came to an agreement. As long as it’s in good condition, he’s willing to buy it.”
Sirius sighs. “Yes, fine.”
“Good. I’ll end the call now.”
Sirius doesn’t wait for him to, instead pressing the red button himself and slamming his phone down on the table. Of course, he knew his father would be hard-headed. All he ever cares about is making as much profit as possible, and Alphard’s death is just another inconvenience that he can turn into something positive. Sirius is sure everyone in the company knows just how disgusting that is.
He stands up to stretch, feeling far too energetic to be locked up inside the crammed office. He entertains the idea of heading outside for a short walk before returning to work, but just as he has sat down again, there’s a loud clang in the hallway. He springs to his feet again. “Who’s there?” he calls.
There are some quiet footsteps, and then James appears in the doorway. He looks apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Remus just texted me and asked me if I could come and pick up his wallet, he left it here and now he’s stuck having dinner with Lily’s family—uh, they're all really nice, I wasn’t...” He clamps his mouth shut. Sirius rubs at his temples, sensing a headache on its way.
“Did you overhear the phone call I just had?” he asks.
“Yes,” James admits. “Was that your dad?”
Sirius sighs. “He’s... well, he’s a businessman before anything.”
“That sounded pretty harsh.”
“For him, it wasn’t.”
James nods and stares at him for a long time, quietly. Sirius feels uncomfortable under his gaze – pitiful, even. “Have you changed your mind, then? About the pub?” James asks.
Sirius smiles glumly. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“But it’s your pub.”
“But what would I do with a pub, James? I’m going back to London, and I’m sorry if this offends you, but I’m likely never coming back.”
“Okay. Maybe you won’t, but think about the people here! Think about—think about Poppy, and Dorcas, and Remus, and Benjy. Think about my parents! For many people, that pub is all they’ve got left of Alphard.”
“Alphard left the pub to me,” Sirius insists, weak as the argument is.
Much to his surprise, instead of lashing out at him, James smiles gently and nods. “And I think he did it for a reason,” he says.
Sirius stares at him. What the hell is that supposed to mean? How could any of them know why Alphard chose to include him in particular in his will?
He shakes his head. “Look, I don’t know what you’re implying, but—”
“Can I show you something?” James proposes. “Tonight, at the house. Maybe you could even come with me now. I know you’ve a lot of work to do, but it’s late already, and I think you could use a little rest.”
Sirius hesitates, not very keen on leaving things unfinished at the office. But then again, he hasn’t been productive for the past two hours, and his headache is only getting worse. Maybe James is right.
“Alright,” he relents.
James smiles at him and then helps him gather his things and tidy up the space. Afterwards, they leave the pub and make sure to lock up behind themselves. It’s another cold evening, but despite the freezing temperatures, people are out and about, doing Christmas shopping or otherwise spending time with friends and family. Sirius is hit by a wave of emotion. James is walking so close to him their shoulders keep brushing, but he’s suddenly feeling so, so lonely.
They make it to the house and quickly file inside, the tips of their noses red from the cold. James gives him another reassuring smile as he takes off his winter clothes and hangs them on a hook. Together, they head into the reception room, where Euphemia is going through a pile of papers, looking mildly stressed.
“Hi, mum,” James says in greeting.
She looks up and smiles at them. “Hi, there. Where are you coming from?”
“Uh... work,” Sirius says.
“Is it okay if I grab one of those boxes from the office?” James asks. Euphemia looks at him and raises her brows, slightly. Out of courtesy, Sirius pretends not to, but he can’t help but notice the meaningful look shared between the two. It makes him feel a little silly.
“Of course,” she says. Her eyes flick to Sirius again, soft and a little sad.
“Thanks,” James smiles. “We’ll be in the den.”
While James runs up the stairs to fetch ‘the box,’ Sirius waits in the den, looking at the spines of what must be hundreds of books. It’s his favourite room in the house, probably. He’s used to shinier surfaces and emptier spaces, and so the cosy den with its dark wooden furniture, fireplace, and numerous colourful rugs feels weird – but in a good way. He feels comfortable there. The house actually feels like a home.
James comes pounding down the stairs again and emerges in the doorway with a huge cardboard box in his hands. He sets it down on the coffee table and joins Sirius at the bookshelves. “What are you looking at?” he inquires.
“Just... looking around,” Sirius says. He swallows, debating whether to admit what he was just thinking about.
James places a hand on his upper back and keeps it there for a few moments. Sirius tenses up, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward like he thought it might. It actually feels comforting. He gives the other man a grateful smile. “I suppose it’s just this place. Not just the house, but the village, too. There’s something...” He lets out a sigh, letting go of the anxious feeling in his chest at the same time. He’s safe here; there’s no need to be so on-edge. “There’s something here that I never had, growing up.”
James wraps his arm around Sirius’s shoulders and squeezes, then lets go and promptly turns around. “Come on, mate,” he says, gently, “There’s something I want you to see.”
They sit down on the sofa, and James pries the box open. Written on a marker on top, it says, ‘Alphard.’ Sirius’s breath hitches as he watches the other man pull out first a folded-up piece of fabric and then a couple of photo albums. He lays them down on the table. “My dad has a bunch of these boxes in the office upstairs,” he explains. “He’s a pretty sentimental person, loves keeping old photographs and other stuff locked up safely. He says he keeps them for those moments when he needs to remind himself where he comes from.”
Sirius stares quietly at the albums. It’s true that he didn’t know Alphard all that well. But knowing that he had a life here – a fulfilling, good life, by the looks of it – makes him feel somewhat odd. He almost feels jealous, even though he knows it’s stupid. He’s the one who has chosen to stick by his father for what feels like the rest of his life.
James picks up the piece of fabric and shakes it out in front of them. It’s a t-shirt, grey and worn-out. On the front there’s a large print with three figures and a sketch of a building in the background. Above, it says, ‘Alphard’s Pub.’ Below, in smaller text, ‘Beer, Chips & Friends. Since 1988.’
They both chuckle. “My dad gave it to your uncle when the pub turned one year,” James says, smiling. “That’s my parents and Alphard. My mum drew the design, and they made it into a t-shirt. I think they printed a total of ten shirts.”
“Exclusive,” Sirius says. He reaches out to thumb the fabric of the shirt. “It’s nice. And it’s nice your dad kept it.”
“He used to wear it quite a lot,” James snorts. “But I guess he realised its worth and decided to put it away instead. For safekeeping, you know.”
Sirius turns to look at him, but James is already busy reaching for one of the photo albums, seemingly unaware of what he’s just said. The weight of what he’s just said.
“Look, this is them on the night the pub was opened,” James goes on, lifting the album onto Sirius’s lap. “They all suggested a name for the pub, their whole friend group. They each wrote their idea on a piece of paper and then your uncle drew one out of a hat.” He laughs. “Apparently, Alphard’s was my mum’s idea. Alphard didn’t want to name it after himself, but after he heard my father’s suggestion, he didn’t have much room to complain.”
Sirius raises his brows, amused. “And what was your dad’s suggestion?”
James grins, sliding the photo out of its plastic pocket and flipping it around. There, in messy handwriting, it says, Congrats, Alfie. Should’ve called it ‘Monty’s Python’ instead, but I suppose ‘Alphard’s’ works just as well. I’m proud of you. Love, your brother.
A laugh escapes Sirius’s lips. He turns the photo around again, looking more carefully at the people in it. The pub’s front looks exactly the same, if a little newer. There, in one merry flock, stands Alphard, Fleamont, Euphemia, and around a dozen other people. They’re all grinning widely, Alphard with a bottle of champagne in his hand.
“He looks happy,” Sirius says, quickly tucking the photo back into the album. “They all do.”
James nods, a sympathetic smile on his face. “He had a good life here. I’m sorry if hearing that makes you feel like... like you missed out on something.”
Sirius sniffs, shaking his head as he turns the page. There’s another set of four pictures, most of them either of Alphard or Fleamont, or both of them together. Euphemia is also in many of the photos, laughing with her head on her husband’s shoulder.
He turns another page. There’s a photo from what seems to be a birthday party of sorts: there’s a cake with a dozen candles on the table, and Fleamont is bent over it, cheeks round as he blows them out. Next to the photo, there’s another one with Alphard and a man Sirius’s doesn’t recognise. He’s handsome – they both are. They’re sitting on a sofa, the strange man’s arm wrapped around Alphard’s waist. Alphard’s eyes are trained on him. He looks immensely happy.
“Who’s this?” Sirius asks, leaning closer to have a better look. He traces his finger over the photo. Seeing it makes him feel oddly warm, and, somehow, he knows before James even opens his mouth.
“That’s... that’s Dean McKinnon.”
Sirius nods. “Were they together?”
“Yeah. They met through my parents – it was love at first sight, apparently. But he died a few years after the photo was taken, in a pretty bad car accident.” James sighs, sadly. “Your uncle didn’t have it easy.”
“I’m... I’m sorry to hear that,” he whispers. He truly is. In the picture, Alphard looks so incredibly happy. But everything that he had, had been taken away from him. Except his best friends, and the community he found in the village.
Except his pub.
“Your family... did they know? That he was queer?”
“I didn’t,” Sirius says, “But my parents... they must have. They always said he was weird, that there was something wrong with him. That he didn’t belong to the family.”
“Oh...”
Sirius opens his mouth, then hesitates and closes it again. James looks at him and waits, patiently. Of course he does.
“It took me a long time to tell them, too,” he finally manages, “That I’m gay, I mean.”
James nods, slowly. His expression doesn’t waver in the slightest. “You didn’t think they would take it well?”
Sirius lets out a cold laugh. “No. Fuck, no. And I was right.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Sirius.”
“It’s alright. It actually made it a bit easier, seeing how much it affected them. They were pissed off and ashamed of me, but I was far beyond feeling those things about myself.”
Gently, James lays a hand on his arm. “You can keep the picture. I want you to keep the picture. To remind you that you’re not alone.”
“But it’s your fathers...”
“He won’t care. And we can always make a copy.”
“I... Thank you.”
They flick through the rest of the photos mostly in silence, James only occasionally explaining the story behind them. There are some from his parents’ wedding, plenty from different peoples’ birthdays, and more than a few of Alphard and Dean together.
When he was younger, Sirius had no idea why his parents disliked Alphard so much. It was always disapproving glances and quiet whispers when he was around. But as he grew older, some part of him came to understand that they thought something was wrong with him. He didn’t know what exactly – he has entertained the idea of Alphard being gay, but he couldn’t have known for sure – but on some level, he’s been able to relate. Even before he told his family, he never fit in.
James closes the final album and places it on the coffee table. Sirius smiles at him, gratefully. “Thank you, James.”
“I thought you should see this side of him, too,” James replies, quietly.
Sirius nods. “But... the pub. It’s still complicated.”
“I didn’t show this to you to change your mind. Of course, I’d love for Alphard’s to stay – more than anything – but I understand that you’re in a tough spot.”
He wishes he could stand up to his father like he so often did when he was younger. But after enough times of being told he was never going to make it if he didn’t start behaving like an adult and thinking of the family company’s best, something had changed. He had changed it. He’d started to do as he was told.
James turns towards him and asks, tentatively, “So, how did you tell your family?”
“Kind of on impulse,” Sirius snorts. “I had someone stay over while everyone was home – snuck him in, that sort of thing – and my brother saw us when I was showing him to the door early in the morning.
“I made him swear he wouldn’t tell anyone what he saw, but later, when we were having breakfast, he told my parents I’d snuck someone in.”
“So, he broke his promise?”
“Well, only half of it. He never told them it was a bloke I’d slept with. My parents were mildly angry at me for having brought someone in without them knowing, but in that moment, I just thought… why not tell them? I was never going to find the right time.”
“You told them yourself?” James laughs, his eyes twinkling.
“I’ll never forget the look on their faces,” Sirius smirks. “Granted, I did get grounded for a month, but after that, I felt so much freer. I wasn’t lying to anyone anymore.”
“Do you think your brother would’ve told them eventually, if you hadn’t?”
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Our relationship… it’s complicated. We’ve never been very close – well, not since our childhood – but we do understand each other quite well.”
“Hm...” James places a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly, and then seems to think it’s not enough. Instead, he pulls Sirius into a hug. “I’m sorry that your family isn’t very accepting, like they should be.”
Sirius sighs, relaxing in his arms. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m used to it.”
Suddenly, footsteps echo in the corridor. They both turn to look as Remus emerges in the doorway and halts. “Oh,” he says, watching as the two of them pull apart. Sirius quickly wipes his cheeks dry. “Sorry, I was just coming to...”
James blinks at him for a moment and then seems to remember. “Oh! Your wallet, of course. It’s in my coat pocket, hang on...” He stands up and leaves the room. Remus gives Sirius a long look and then follows his friend out.
“Really, James?” Sirius hears him murmur.
“It’s not what you think,” James hisses back. “I was just showing him old photos of Alphard.”
“And then cuddling with him on the sofa? Do I need to remind you who he is?”
“You act like you’ve made any actual effort to know him.”
“I don’t need to know him to know what he’s like."
“I think you’re being too harsh.”
“I can’t believe you’re taking his side."
“I’m not taking his side! I’m just telling you that I think you were too quick to judge him. I want Alphard’s to stay the same just as much as you do."
“He’s only here for one thing, and that’s money! How can you not see that?”
There’s a long sigh, and then James says, much more quietly, “He’s not a bad person.”
“I don’t care if he’s an angel or Satan himself if he’s still going to sell the pub.”
For a moment, he can’t hear anything but quiet whispers. Then James says briskly, “All right, mate, I’ll see you later!”
“See you,” Remus’s voice replies, dully. The door opens and bangs shut. After a few seconds, James returns, sporting a cheery smile.
“Right, now that that’s taken care of,” he says, clasping his hands together.
Sirius lifts the albums back into the box and folds the t-shirt carefully over them. Then he stands up and puts his hands in his back pockets. “Thank you for this, James,” he says. “I really appreciate it. I think I should go to bed now.”
James opens and closes his mouth, hesitantly. He’s probably trying to decide whether to keep pretending that Sirius didn’t hear the conversation he just had with Remus. In the end, he gives up and sighs. “Look, mate, I’m sorry about that. He can be very stubborn when he thinks he’s right. And the thing is, usually he is right.” He chuckles wanly. “But this time, I know he’s not.”
Sirius shrugs. “He has no reason to think I’m a good person. I’ve practically cost him his job. He’s allowed to be angry at me.”
“That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try and understand you, too.” James smiles at him sympathetically. “And Sirius... the world isn’t split into good and bad people. You can be good and still make a decision that will hurt somebody. Sometimes, it just is like that.”
They’re kind words, but they don’t make him feel much better. He knows that his decision to listen to his father and sell the pub onwards is going to harm many people’s lives, and not truly benefit anyone’s. His family doesn’t need the money – they just don’t want the burden. He’s starting to loathe them for that.