Chapter Text
Sirius Black doesn’t believe in the afterlife.
Before Alphard died, when he was still in hospital, he used to joke about his eternal rest – not in heaven, that’s for sure. He said he’d come back to haunt Sirius if he didn’t behave, or buried himself in work too much, for too long. Sirius always joked back, of course, because jokes made up about half their relationship, but he never truly believed any of it.
It had always seemed to him that life existing at all on this small, insipid rock drifting through the vastness of space was unlikely enough, so to believe there was something else waiting on the other side of death was just a stretch too far, wasn’t it?
Still, he followed the protocol, once Alphard passed. There was the funeral, and the mass, and the grave in the beautiful cemetery, which Sirius still visits once or twice a month, always bringing flowers and candles (because Alphard had strong opinions on flowers and candles). He sits on the grass and talks, keeping “Alphard” up to date with the news, the politics, the most recent celebrity scandals, the small and the large ways life is moving forward without him. Yes, Sirius does it all, but only because it brings him comfort, and not because he truly thinks Alphard is anywhere close enough to listen, or to care.
Or at least – that’s what he thought, until three weeks ago.
Because, three weeks ago, Sirius had a dream.
He hadn’t dreamt of Alphard once since his death. Not even in those first few raw days when he would have given anything for just one more afternoon in that awful hospital room, breathing in that sickening floral perfume, sharing a disgusting meat pie.
But then, suddenly and completely unprompted, there he was.
Not in the hospital, no, but in Alphard’s flat. And not the one he lived in for the last few years of his life – not the one Sirius had to clean out and sell after his death – but the old one. The big one, with the terrace and the beautiful plants and a kitchen that always smelled of Charles’ cooking. Alphard hadn’t lived there since Sirius was a teenager. Yet, in this dream, Sirius was an adult, and they were sitting opposite each other in the good armchairs, having tea in the sunlight by the window.
Alphard looked well. He was not that version of himself from the last few months, near the end, thin and pale and shrinking into sterile white hospital pillows. No, he was the strong version of Alphard. Younger, excited, sharp and alive. He was telling Sirius something, unhurriedly stitching all the details in the story, like he always used to do, and Sirius was listening, drinking up every word – though after, when the dream was over, he couldn't remember what they were talking about.
But what he did remember was this:
Alphard setting down his teacup, and looking at Sirius like he was truly present for that one split second. And then he said, “That ring – why is it still sitting in a velvet bag in your sock drawer?”
Sirius frowned. He opened his mouth to respond, but Alphard cut in again.
“I didn’t give it to you to keep in a drawer, Sirius.”
“I know,” Sirius says.
“Do you?”
That’s when Sirius woke up. Sudden and definite, like his alarm had just gone off – except the clock in the bedside table said it was three in the morning and the room was dark and quiet. He shifted in bed, looking at Remus, breathing steadily by his side. He looked so peaceful.
Sirius knew exactly what he had to do.
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It takes him three weeks to plan it properly, because Sirius Black does not do anything half-arsed.
The first person he enlists is James, and then, because James is biologically incapable of keeping a secret from Lily, Sirius enlists Lily too. Once she’s involved, she becomes indispensable. She’s the one with an inside contact at the Observatory – because it has to happen there, that’s just obvious – and she manages to arrange a private booking for the west terrace on a Saturday afternoon in late February, just a bit over a year since an eight-year-old boy in a yellow coat sat on a bench with a milkshake because he’d decided to take matters into his own tiny hands.
Alice caters, of course, which proves tricky to arrange without Remus catching on, but Frank comes up with some excuse about a private event with a paycheck too good for the restaurant to refuse. It’s not even that far-fetched – their place has been steadily picking up since the article in Sirius’ magazine came out all those months ago. Getting Remus’ colleagues and Sirius’ friends to come is easy too. Even Regulus makes the drive, and it only costs Sirius the promise of one future favour, which doesn’t seem so bad, honestly.
The hardest part is Teddy.
And not because Teddy is difficult to convince. Quite the opposite, actually.
The moment Sirius sits him down and, very seriously, explains the plan, Teddy’s eyes go wide and his gapped grin takes over his whole face. And then he starts giggling loudly and firing off questions at an increasing volume until Sirius has to clap a hand over his mouth, certain Remus will hear all the way from the garden, where he’s obliviously trimming the hedges.
So yes, getting Teddy to keep a secret for two full weeks turns out to be one of the most difficult things Sirius has ever done. It’s a daily, non-stop effort. He has to interrupt revealing sentences and invent increasingly ridiculous excuses, and extract renewed promises that the secret is safe every single morning. At one point, he resorts to bribery in the form of a new set of astronomy books. He’s not proud of it, but needs must.
Because he needs Teddy’s help. How else is he supposed to get Remus to the Observatory on a random February afternoon?
To Teddy’s credit, he actually manages to come up with a decent lie. Some made-up new exhibition on the planet Jupiter – or is it Saturn? – which he pesters Remus about for days, until Remus finally agrees to take him. And oh, is it not a shame that Sirius can’t come along? It would be perfect, really, if he could. But he has to cover for Marlene at the last minute. Some interview for the magazine, terribly urgent, what can he do?
And Remus, to everyone’s surprise, suspects nothing.
Sirius has half a mind to be offended by how little he suspects, but it all works in his favour in the end. Because, completely oblivious, Remus lets himself be dragged by the hand by Teddy to the Observatory, and then to the west terrace, where this brilliant new Jupiter exhibition is supposedly happening.
Which, of course, it isn’t.
Instead, the terrace is decorated with fairy lights and yellow flowers, Remus’ favourite records playing softly in the background. There’s a table laid out with food and canapes, and a slightly lopsided cake that Teddy insisted on helping Alice bake, and all the people that matter the most to them are gathered there, under the late afternoon sky.
When Remus steps in, he stills.
He looks at the lights, and the flowers and the people, and then he looks at Sirius – who is standing in the middle of it all, very nearly biting his nails off as he waits for a reaction.
“Sirius?” Remus asks slowly. “This is– not an exhibition about Jupiter.”
He looks confused, glancing down at Teddy with an accusatory raised eyebrow, but Teddy just lets out a high-pitched noise – half giggle, half cheeky apology – and bolts to stand between Alice and Frank, James and Lily.
“No, it’s not,” Sirius says, drawing Remus’ attention back to him.
“Is it–? But my birthday isn’t for another two weeks!”
There’s laughter from the small crowd, and Sirius can’t help but chuckle too as he steps closer.
“It’s not a birthday party either, though, for the record, I’d happily throw you one. It’s… well.” He hesitates, just for a second. “I actually brought you here – and everyone else – because there’s something I’d like to ask you.”
Remus opens his mouth then closes it. The corners of his lips twitch like they want to turn up – Sirius knows they do – but somehow, Remus manages to keep his expression straight.
“And what is it?” He prompts.
“Right,” Sirius says, reaching into his coat pocket. “I have a whole speech prepared, so I’m going to ask you and everyone else to bear with me, because I’ve been rehearsing this for weeks and it would be a shame to waste it–”
“Weeks, is that so?” Remus interrupts him, barely containing a smile.
Sirius just rolls his eyes fondly, then clears his throat and unfolds his paper, praying that he’ll get through it all without crying.
“Remus. When my uncle Alphard was dying, he gave me a ring, and he told me to look for someone worth keeping,” Sirius pauses. The paper is shaking in his hand, and, to be quite honest, he doesn’t really need it. He memorised the words by heart. He crumbles it up, then holds it tightly in his tense fist. “I told him I’d try, but I didn’t really think it was possible. Not really, not for someone like me. But then, that same night, an eight-year-old boy called a radio station, and I happened to be sitting at a McDonald’s drive-thru, listening to it.”
Over Remus’ shoulder, Sirius catches Lily holding onto Alice’s arm, and Harry whispering something to Teddy, who’s grinning like he’s so proud to be responsible for it all. Sirius can’t help but smile too, before looking back at Remus.
“Even before I really knew you, I think I already understood that you were… someone I couldn’t afford to miss.” He huffs out a quiet, self-conscious laugh. “That’s why I worked so hard to get to know you, even when it was difficult, even when you were pushing me away. Thankfully, once it all fell into place, it just– it became easy. The easiest thing I’ve ever done. And now, here we are, one year later. We’ve both lost so much, and we both know what it costs to let someone in again after that. So there’s not a single day in this past year that I haven’t been grateful that you did. That Teddy sent me that letter, and that you were brave, and you let me in.” He steps closer, then drops to one knee. “I’m certain you’re that someone Alphard told me about, the one worth keeping. Remus Lupin, will you marry me?”
Sirius opens his palm, and inside is the same white gold ring decorated with a discrete diamond that Alphard had offered to him all that time ago. It’s almost absurd, how fated it feels, that he didn’t even need to get it altered. It was just the right size for Remus’ finger.
There’s a tense waiting moment, during which Remus just looks at the ring in Sirius’ hand, and then instead of answering, he lets out a strangled sob.
“I can’t believe you’re going to make me cry in front of everyone,” he says.
Sirius chuckles. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” Remus’ voice breaks, eyes bright with tears. “Obviously, yes.”
Sirius exhales and finally allows himself to smile wide and uncontained. Nothing in Remus’ behaviour in this past year ever made him wonder if this was the right thing to do, or if Remus could ever say no – but getting the jitters is normal, isn’t it?
He takes Remus’ hand and slides the ring onto his finger, and before he can even stand properly, Remus is already pulling him close, hands on him, kissing him on the mouth.
When they finally break apart, Sirius laces their fingers together and glances down at their joined hands. He thinks of Alphard and Charles, a pier late at night and fingers tangled together so close you couldn’t tell them apart.
Sirius Black doesn’t believe in the afterlife – but standing there, with Remus’ hand warm in his and the ring finally where it belongs, he could swear Alphard was there too, watching them all.