Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Emme, darling, you know it can't be any other way," Sirius pouted, waiting for his girlfriend to soften her gaze.

He didn't have to wait long—Emmeline was always indulgent. She sighed tenderly in farewell and adjusted the hem of her dressing gown, which was far too revealing for her innocent expression.

"But I'll wait for you tonight. Don't do anything stupid, okay? And don't drink too much!"

"When I was drinking, tell me!" Sirius laughed and kissed her hard, squeezing her in his arms. "And what are you wearing? Get ready, I'll come and give you a good…"

"See you later!" Emmeline blushed and opened the door for him.

It was their tradition, their custom: every year at Christmas, they—Sirius, James, and Peter—went to the bathhouse. They couldn't remember when it started, but they strictly adhered to the tradition. This year was no exception. Sirius met James at the entrance and pounced on him like a cheetah.

"Easy! We're not that drunk yet!" James laughed and pushed him into a snowdrift.

A few minutes later, he said:

"Peter wants to visit his parents in London, so we shouldn't hang around today. His flight is at eight, so I think we should walk him to the airport."

"We'll walk him, of course. Here he is!"

In the bathhouse, they climbed onto the top bunk, and Peter quickly took a swig from the ladle. Thick steam immediately rose from the hot stones, and James pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You idiot! Why so hard first? You need to warm up."

"And that's hard?" Sirius grinned and took the water from Peter. "We'll show you what hard is."

"How are things going with Emmeline?" " Peter asked after a couple of drinks and half an hour had passed.

"Emmy? She's fine, we're already thinking about the wedding. We can't decide on a restaurant."

"There are restaurants galore in Manchester," James snorted.

"That's the problem."

James started talking about his colleagues, his job, and his new patients. He worked as a cardiologist in the surgery department next to Sirius's, and hearing about the hospital he already visited every day was excruciatingly boring.

So it's no wonder it didn't take long for them to become completely drunk. The conversations suddenly became more interesting, noisier, and more cheerful. Their session was over, and the clock was about to strike seven.

"Taxi! Hey, taxi!" James jumped out into the road, laughing like a horse.

"You're an idiot, you might as well throw yourself in front of this car!"

"There, there it is! Hey! We're here!" Martians, we're Earthlings!

The three of them piled into the car and forced Sirius to pay. James yelled for a ride to the airport, and they set off.

Sirius had completely forgotten who he was, who he was with, and he certainly didn't care about his fiancée, who was waiting alone for his return. The world around him was spinning, the floor was falling out from under his feet, and it was so, so funny!

"No, do you know how I'm going to fly in this state?" Peter gurgled, taking another swig from the bottle.

"Oh, really, really, no way! No way!" James nodded.

"Let me fly?" Sirius snatched the ticket.

James and Peter laughed and pulled the bottle in opposite directions, spilling alcohol all over their jackets.

"Fly!"

And he flew. To London, in Peter's place. He fell asleep on the plane, watching the snowy weather from the window, and didn't even notice how he'd fallen asleep. He woke only to the sound of the loudspeaker saying "...Local temperature 10°F." He unfastened himself from his seatbelt and emerged into the crush of other hurried people, completely empty-handed.

After a brief nap, he was still drunk, but he'd completely forgotten he wasn't in Manchester. He hailed a taxi, gave the address, and found himself at a house that looked exactly like his own. He went up to the third floor and opened the locked door with his key, which fit.

The apartment was empty.

"Emmy! Emmy, baby, where are you?" No one answered.

Sirius shrugged, yawned, and collapsed on the sofa, finishing his interrupted dream.

Remus took off his snow-covered coat and hung it on a hanger in the hallway, adjusting his curls in the mirror. Fabian would be arriving soon, and this would be their first Christmas together. He, after all, had to look presentable. Preferably, well.

The tree was already decorated, all the food had been prepared since last night and was sitting in the refrigerator, wrapped in plastic wrap. He set the table with relaxed method, served it, and poured champagne into glasses. Oh, and the candles! The candles seemed to be in the bedroom.

The room was dark, and he turned on the light. A sigh escaped his chest. Someone was lying on his bed.

Remus came closer, peered closely, but couldn't place the face. A tall, broad-shouldered man with long, jet-black hair—handsome, no doubt, but definitely not one he knew.

He glanced at his watch. Fabian would definitely be here soon.

"Wake up, did you hear? Wake up immediately," he says, shaking the stranger's legs, gently touching him through the knitted blanket.

He doesn't respond, only smacking his lips sleepily.

"Get up! Are you alive or not?" Remus continues, rocking the man vigorously.

He begins to panic and grabs the stranger's shirt when he mutters,

"Don't... shake me! Can I just... sleep here... for a little while..."

"Who are you? How did you get here?" Remus flares up and drags the heavy man by his ankles, intending to throw him to the floor.

"Don't... pull me!.."

"Get up!" Remus looks at his watch again and desperately slaps the man's shoulders. "Right now!"

He fills the kettle with water and, as a final warning, timidly approaches the man and pours cold water directly on him.

"There... good. No, come on... it's wet. Are you nuts? Are you all nuts? I'm not a flowerbed...

Sirius finally starts to stir and sits up in bed with difficulty. He looks at the stranger in front of him and freezes for a few seconds. The man stands before him, flustered, his lips pursed, his utterly charming face framed by fluffy blond curls. Sirius rubs his eyes, but the man remains. He's handsome, sure, but definitely not Emmy.

"Get out," Sirius says.

"What?" Remus asks, surprised. "That's unheard of! What are you doing here?"

"I'm sleeping here. What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing sprawled out here? Come on, get out of here, quick!"

He pulls the man off the bed, but he won't budge, muttering something incessantly and thrashing with the pillow. Remus jumps back, covering his head. He still stares at Sirius, stunned.

"To your apartment! Where do I live then?"

"I don't know that, I'm not interested," Sirius replies. "By the way, my fiancée, Emmeline, is coming here soon, and I don't want us to be... caught together."

Remus's lips part in surprise.

"Your fiancée? Explain to me why your fiancée would come looking for you at my house?"

Sirius clutches his head, trying to remember something, as the minute hand ticks inexorably forward. Remus groans:

"It's almost eleven, they should be here any minute. Listen, are you all conscious? Where are you?"

"Me? At home. 12 Grimmauld Place."

"No, I live at 12 Grimmauld Place, 3rd floor, apartment 70."

"That's my address!"

He gets up and paces the room while Remus tries to clean up the mess he made from fighting this insolent stranger and straighten the blanket. "I think one of us is crazy," Remus said.

"And I even know who it is."

"I know who it is too!"

Sirius looked around the room.

"Why did you arrange the wardrobe like that?... My God, is it some kind of... obsession... and did you swipe our family screen? And why," he said, walking into the kitchen, "did Emmy put out the wrong plates?"

He looked at Remus. He was a terribly charming guy, honestly, but under these circumstances, Sirius couldn't exactly think of him in a better light.

"So you came in and rearranged the furniture!"

"This is my house, Grimmauld Place 12, third floor, apartment 70."

"Well, that's my address."

"Get out!"

Remus started throwing things at him, not knowing how else to contain his anger. The man covers himself and shouts:

"I'll show you my passport, here, look."

He actually hands over the passport, pulling it out of his jacket pocket, and Remus carefully examines it. The address matches. Sirius Orion Black really does live in Grimmauld Place, but...

"Manchester?" A smile spreads across his lips.

"Manchester," Sirius mocks, coming closer. "Manchester, where else?"

"We're in London," Remus laughs. "You arrived at the same address, but in London. Now do you understand?"

Remus throws the document in Sirius's stunned face and sets tall candles on the table. The man continues to look at him as if he were the eighth wonder of the world, even as Remus goes to the shelf and tries to find matches in the drawers.

"Wait, I'll explain everything! My friends and I were at the sauna... then we went to the airport to see Pete off... and what happened, instead of... instead of Peter, did I fly away?"

The curly-haired guy's sly face flashes before my eyes.

"You need to drink less."

Sirius sits down on the floor, clutching his hair with his hands, and rocking back and forth. He laughs, but then stops.

"So Emmy stayed back there, in Manchester. I'm here, on the floor in London!"

Fabian whistles under his breath as he climbs out of the old car and walks toward Remus's entrance. He unlocks the door with his keys, and the cheerful music from the intercom stirs his anticipation even more.

It's their first Christmas together, and he's on edge. Remus is perfect: reliable, loyal, honest. What sane person wouldn't be happy with a guy like that? He knocks on the door for the sake of politeness, but no one opens. Perhaps Remus simply didn't hear, Fabian thinks, and presses the handle. It gives way.

Remus's voice comes from far away before the sound of the door opening reaches his ears, and he peers around the kitchen threshold. Fabian smiles and pulls him close.

"How was your trip?" Remus asks between kisses.

"Everything's fine... I've got you a Christmas present," Fabian hands him a box, hand-wrapped in festive paper.

"Thank you. I have a present for you too! But it's in the room... Fabian, I need to tell you something."

Fabian smooths his bright red hair in the mirror, checking to make sure he's applied enough gel before arriving. Remus stands nearby, wringing his hands in a strange nervousness.

"It's unbelievable. You'll die laughing! Anyway, I come home and there's a strange man sleeping in my bed. You know, I couldn't wake him. I poured water on him from the kettle!"

Fabian doesn't even feel like he's laughing. He frowns and pushes Remus aside, heading into the kitchen. Clinging hands try to grab his jacket sleeve, but he inexorably steps in and sees a drunken stranger in their knitted blanket.

He jerks the blanket away with a sharp movement of his hand, but the boy tries to pull it back.

"Wait, why are you behaving so inappropriately..."

Fabian turns to Remus, filled with anger.

"Well, you've got me a wonderful present, thank you."

Sirius tries to stand.

"You don't understand, it's not his fault, I'll explain everything to you now!" They point a finger at him.

"How did he get here?"

"That's an incredible coincidence! He also lives at Grimmauld Place, number 12, floor 3, flat 70, but in Manchester! He went to the bathhouse with his friends, had a drink, and was mistakenly bundled onto a plane."

"Where? At the bathhouse?"

"No-o, not in the bathhouse! There's no plane in the bathhouse!"

"They're not asking you," Fabian snaps at Sirius.

"Tell him about Peter!" Sirius begs.

"They went to the airfield to see their friend, Peter, off..."

"So there's Peter here too!" Fabian throws up his hands. "So some Peter was supposed to be there instead?"

Sirius groans into his hands from the headache and the noise. Fabian is already putting on his hat, while Remus tries to hold his coat away.

"Let's say he got the address wrong, but why did you let him in?"

"I didn't let him in!"

"My key worked!"

"Oh, so you gave him the key?"

"He didn't give it to me, God, you're so stupid..."

While Fabian and Remus continue to sort things out, Sirius gets dressed and leaves the apartment with a flourish, a flourish of theatrics. Remus sighs with relief and runs after him as he throws his hat on the floor and stares thoughtfully out the window by the festive table.

"Fab, don't be jealous," Remus smiles and hugs him from behind, pressing his cheek against his broad back. "If I fell in love with someone, you'd be the first to know."

"Don't be jealous," Fabian snorts, but his tone softens. Honestly, when Remus calms him down like that, it's impossible to stay angry for long.

They give each other gifts, sample the prepared salads, and sit down at the table with glasses of champagne. It seems that the unpleasant incident has long since left his head, and Remus picks up the guitar, while the loving gaze opposite him devours him and drinks to his health.

Along my street, for yet another year,
footsteps sound — my friends are leaving.
My friends’ slow, lingering departure
is welcomed by the darkness past the windows…

Fabian carefully takes the instrument back after the song ends, nervously adjusts the lapels of his jacket, and announces.

"Remus. Listen to me. Today, on this Christmas, our first Christmas together, I intend to put the question... point-blank. I think it's time we finally put an end to our single status. What do you think?"

A bashful flush covers his cheeks. Perhaps spending so much time combing his unruly curls was worth it.

"I look forward to it," he shakes his head. "But only if you're not so jealous."

"You see, Remy, I'm not so young anymore, but I feel..."

The doorbell rings.

"Who else is that?"

Remus adjusts the sleeves of the shirt he'd changed into especially for the holiday.

"I have no idea. I'll take a look."

"No, wait," Fabian jumps up like a baby, gently holding his hand. "Sorry."

Sirius scratches his hair and looks surprisingly sober when he appears on the threshold.

"Sorry, I was too shy to open the door with my key. Look, I don't have anyone here in town. Could you lend me fifty pounds, and I'll send it all to you tomorrow?"

Remus rolls his eyes and goes to get his wallet. The door slams, leaving them alone on the landing.

"Now let's talk like men. What were you doing here?"

Sirius looks guiltily at the man. He looks like he's about to give in and punch him, but despite his height, Sirius is broader in the shoulders and, he mentally calculates, a slightly better fighter. This gives him a little confidence, but the shame doesn't go away.

"You see, my friends and I have this tradition. Every year on December 25th, we go to the bathhouse and wash up. Well, it's been a long time. And Peter, he was supposed to fly to London to see his parents. And I was supposed to get married today."

"Marry who?"

"Listen, that's irrelevant... We had a drink at the bathhouse, then we went to the airport, and I took the plane instead of Peter."

Fabian exhales through clenched teeth, and Sirius is already clenching his fists in his jacket pockets.

"And you didn't notice the furniture is different?"

"The same furniture!"

The door opens, and Remus rushes out onto the landing, bills in hand.

"Here, your money."

Sirius gratefully takes it, while Fabian explodes and takes his coat from the closet. Remus tries to follow him and stop him, but Sirius hugs him tightly.

Fabian separates them and dashes down the stairs.

"That's it, I've had enough."

"Fab! Wait!"

"Don't make me look like an idiot."

When the groom disappears, Remus, completely exhausted by this unexpected concert in his apartment, leans his shoulder against the threshold. He tries to figure out how to justify himself to Fabian if he so desperately disbelieves him, but nothing comes to mind. This unthinkable opera was supposed to happen on this very day, to him! And this drunk man is hanging around and won't leave.

"Are you crying?" a voice calls from behind him. "Please don't cry..."

Remus doesn't answer and only stares emotionlessly out the window and at the festive table, where dirty mashed potato plates and half-empty glasses are already set. Tears stream down his cheeks, tickling his skin.

"Listen, I'll catch him right now!" the same voice threatens, and the boy runs off after Remus's groom. Apparently, his ex-groom.

Remus wouldn't deny that this strange, eccentric guy had caught his eye. He was handsome, muscular, and, what's more, even charming in a way. It would have been nice to meet him, if they hadn't had other partners and under different circumstances. Although, would they have met under different circumstances?

There's a charm in the way Sirius worries. And now in the way he runs after Fabian's car, only to return ten minutes later, unsuccessful.

"He drives faster than I can run..."

Remus feels like he feels nothing, and yet at the same time, he feels too much that's wrong and bad.

"I hate you," he breathes, not understanding where the lie begins and ends. "You've ruined my whole life."

"Oh, I understand you so well," Sirius nods, pacing the room. "My fiancée is sitting and waiting for me in my empty apartment back in Manchester."

"Doesn't she know where you are?"

"No, she doesn't know. She's probably going crazy."

"Then call her."

"Can I use your phone?"

Remus collapses onto the sofa and turns on the ballet.

"Do whatever you want."

Sirius answers the phone.

"Hello, miss. Yes, Merry Christmas to you too. Please take an order for Manchester," he says, naming the addresses. "When? Can't we do it any earlier? Thank you, goodbye. In an hour, they said."

His hair, so perfectly styled this morning, now irritates him, and Remus tucks it behind his ears. The man says there are two minutes left until midnight, and offers to open the champagne. Even with this, the clumsy, garishly flustered young man struggles, splattering the foam all over the table. A smile involuntarily touches his lips.

"Please," Remus looks up, turns off the TV, and gets to his feet. "What's your name?"

"Remus."

"And mine is Sirius. Merry Christmas, Remus."

They drink. Sirius watches as Remus closes his eyes and winces sweetly, throwing his head back as he drains the glass. He was embarrassed in front of Fabian and Emmy, but in front of Remus, he could barely stand without blushing. The memory of Remus crying over him just a few minutes ago hits him below the belt. He takes a sip for company, but alcohol is already disgusting him.

"We need to check the first flights to London."

He runs to the phone again, but the first plane isn't until the morning. Seven o'clock.

"Remus, don't worry, I'll just talk to Emmy and then I'll be gone."

"I don't think you'll ever leave here."

His handsome, angelic face glitters golden from the glow of the fairy lights as he tugs at the tree branches, eager to keep his hands occupied. Sirius can't help but stare at him; somehow this delightful boy, whom he's so wronged, captures his full attention.

"Don't worry, everything will be alright," he begins, but they're interrupted by a ringing voice. Sirius picks up the phone. "Yes? Yes, Emmy?"

But there's only silence on the other end. A few seconds later, the phone rings, and Sirius concludes:

"I thought it was Fabian."

"Who?" Remus jumps up and runs toward him, and Sirius is momentarily captivated by his eagerness. "Well, who asked you to answer?"

"I thought it was Manchester, I ordered…"

Almost immediately, the phone rings a second time, and Remus picks it up himself.

"Yes? Ah, Manchester was booked..."

"Emmy? Emmy, can you hear me? I'll explain everything to you now..."

The bride's voice was slurred, staticky, but distinctly terse.

"Are you in London? Thank you for calling."

"An unimaginable thing has happened..."

"I've called every hospital, every morgue, and you're still in London? I have nothing to talk about."

"I'm on the first flight out!"

"You don't have to rush."

And then the phone rang again. She hung up, and Sirius didn't even realize it right away—he was holding the phone to his ear, calling her name. Damn it all. He's already twenty-eight, he's been trying for so many years to settle down and find a normal person, and now he's finally found one... but then there's this crazy tradition, and this Peter with his stupid, completely stupid London. And Remus and his apartment are stupid too.

"Never mind, you'll find yourself a new one."

Sirius slowly raises his head.

"A new one? What do you know about that?"

"I guess I know something. If you haven't forgotten, my fiancé just left in a fit of jealousy, and it's all because of you."

"Goddammit, that fiancé of yours, do you know where he's gone?"

Remus raises his eyes, amber and filled with a quiet fury. Wonderful eyes, but angered at him to the point of burning hatred.

"You're forgetting yourself. This is my apartment, so get out of here."

"Get out?" Sirius repeats.

"Get out!"

He throws on his jacket and zips it up, but suddenly changes his mind. He takes it off right in the hallway and saunters back into the kitchen.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. And anyway, I'm hungry..."

"No, that won't work," Remus starts to take the plate from him and throws it on the floor in anger. To the sound of shattering ceramics, he sits down opposite him and helps himself to some meat.

"Listen, you're a real devil."

Remus cuts a cutlet with a knife.

"One more word and the plate will fly at your head. And your Emmy did a good job leaving you. Now she'll find a real man," he smiles. "So? You don't mind? I have no answer!"

"I'm just afraid of the next plate."

"That's right."

A knock is heard from the hallway.

"Fabian's here. Jump off the balcony," Remus squints sweetly and goes to open the door.

To his surprise, his friends rush at him from the entryway in an unbearable wave of joy. Lily and Alice, who arrived in fluffy fur coats with a bottle of opened champagne. While Lily kissed Remus on the cheek, the other was already unzipping her high boots.

"Remus, Merry Christmas!" Lily laughs and sips champagne. Alice pulls off her fur hat, smoothing her hair.

"Well, where is he? Show me!" she announces ceremoniously, and Remus restrainedly leads his friends into the kitchen.

Sirius sits at the table with his mouth full. It takes him a moment to realize that the polite thing to do is nod his head in greeting and stand.

"There he is. In all his glory."

"Why didn't you tell us he was so handsome?" Alice giggles, while Lily twirls her red hair playfully and reaches for the bottle again.

"A man of gold!"

They shake his hand.

"Alice."

"Lily."

Lily inhaled and glanced slyly at Alice.

"Dear Fabian, we're Remus's closest friends."

"No, no, no, wait, I didn't..."

"We teach at the same school," Alice chimed in. "He's hiding you from us. We came especially to congratulate you both."

"Fabian, you must know what a wonderful person our Remus is!"

Remus smiled sheepishly and tried to brush them off, but his friends were too persistent.

"How the teachers love him, how the children love him, how the parents love him! Remus is a caring friend, a sensitive teacher, he does community work, and he's even on the honor roll."

"He's a very good man!"

"You see, the problem is, I'm not who you think I am," Sirius tried to say, and coughed from the blow between his shoulder blades. "Why you...?"

Remus bites а lip charmingly and waves his hands at him.

"Don't listen to him, come sit at the table."

"Ladies, I understand your feelings, but the thing is, I don't even know Remus... what's your last name?"

Alice and Lily burst into laughter.

Remus puts his arm around his neck, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity through him.

"Fabian, don't be silly. Stop it, that's all."

"Remus, why?" Alice drawls, offended. "Let him have his fun! He's doing such a good job!"

"I love your relationship so much," Lily says fondly.

She pours champagne into their glasses, but Sirius refuses.

"Why?"

"I don't want to."

Alice tries to persuade him, Lily laughs, and Remus gently holds the glass to his lips. They haven't been this close before, and the whole situation of being mistaken for Fabian is quite awkward. But he can't find the strength to resist when soft fingers so gently part his lips.

"To your marital happiness! Drink up, drink up..."

Lily and Alice take a couple of sips and wipe their lipsticked lips. Lily lounges back in her chair, and Alice claps her hands and glances excitedly at Remus and Sirius.

"Well, bitter?"

(Author's note: When they shout "Bitter!" in Russia, the newlyweds or couple are supposed to kiss. Frankly, I couldn't find an equivalent for this exclamation so here's a note.)

"What? No! I absolutely won't... stop, listen."

He walks around the table, but Remus follows.

"Fabian, what are you saying?"

"Stop making a fool of me! I don't want to kiss you, I don't want to and I won't..."

Remus catches up with him, catching his hand and standing on tiptoe. The girls squeal happily in the background, and Sirius tries to avoid the kiss, craning his neck, but Remus holds him back.

They kiss. Just like that, for show, when Remus's fiancé had just run away, Sirius's fiancée had dumped him, and now he was moonlighting as a clown for his crazy girlfriends. Remus's lips were soft, and he took the initiative. A wonderful, magical aroma of sweet clotted cream, chocolate, and champagne emanated from him.

And Sirius didn't regret that kiss. He was still in shock, but beyond surprise, there was no hurt or anger. Deep down, he was even sad that Remus pulled away so quickly.

"And even after that, I'm not Fabian."

The girls laughed.

"Fabian, dear," Alice touched his shoulder, "do you like the way he sings?"

"I haven't heard."

"Haven't heard?" Lily raised her cheeky eyebrows. "Get the guitar here, quick!"

Remus is hastily seated with a beige guitar, Alice and Lily eagerly settling in nearby. Sirius stands and moves a little further away, hoping to escape the scrutinizing gazes, but the amber eyes stare stubbornly at him.