Chapter Text
Sirius Black is not a morning person. In his perfect world, the day wouldn’t start until at least noon. But there are two things that get him out of bed this early. Work, and more recently, Moony.
Sirius pulls on one of his nicest suits, the deep navy one that makes his eyes lean more blue than silver, and runs out the door only five minutes later than when he was supposed to have left. Hopefully, the line at the coffee shop is short today, he doesn’t want to throw off the builders’ timeline by being late for the walkthrough. But he also doesn’t want to be a zombie, so he needs his espresso. While he waits, he pulls out his phone.
The typing dots hover on screen for long enough that Sirius has to bite his lip to keep the fond smile trying to spread across his face in check. He will not be one of those idiots smiling down at his phone like some lovesick puppy. Even if he feels the excited thrum of his heart in his ears. That’s irrelevant, he’s not in too deep already. He can stop any time.
And then his phone buzzes again.
Thankfully, the line at the coffee shop did move fast, and Sirius is exactly on time to open up at 9:00. Waiting for him on the corner are two men, with near identical bright smiles, messy hair, and wire-framed glasses— except one is older, with more gray running through his roots and smile lines creasing his face. James and Fleamont Potter pull him into two warm hugs, and all three of them sweep inside.
The place is bare-bones, exposed beams and scaffolding, but Sirius can just see the vision in his head. The spiral staircase in the middle of the ground floor, walls lined with shelves and shelves of books, cosy areas with couches and low tables for patrons to sit and read. Sirius was never much into reading in the past, but when he joined Potter Books after James took a step back from the business once he and Lily had Harry, Sirius is understanding more and more what all the fuss is about. There’s something so comforting and warm about a good book, and Sirius wants to bring that energy into this space.
It’s a big deal, the first location opening up after Harry was born and Fleamont retired two summers ago. It’s not that the company is doing poorly, but a successful new location would no doubt be good for profits. This is also the first location that Sirius has been in charge of, from pitch to open. So, he is very committed to making sure everything goes off without a hitch, and that starts with the approval of the two most important men in the world to him.
“And there’ll be a café here, lots of seating for people to sit and read,” Sirius says, sweeping his hands around the empty space, the picture so vivid in his head that he can only hope that they can see it too. “Just imagine it, Jamie.”
“I’m imagining,” James chuckles, his fingers making a rectangle in front of his eyes as he cheekily looks through them, humming under his breath.
Sirius barks out a laugh, and Monty huffs a slightly put-out chortle, ruffling James’ hair. And then his pseudo-father turns his attention to Sirius.
Fleamont wraps and arm around his shoulder, pulling him close and giving him a squeeze, his smile evident in his voice when he says, “This is great, son. You picked a good spot.”
Sirius lights up, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. The praise invigorates him, and Sirius is sure he sounds a little frantic as he continues, “That’s the best part— right by the Tube, lots of tourist traffic, not a lot of competition.”
“Isn’t there that little family-owned spot a couple streets away?” James cuts in, and Sirius can barely react but to scoff and wave a nonchalant hand at him.
“Sure, but they can hardly be called competition,” he drawls. “They’re not a chain, not a big-box store, it’s perfect!”
Sirius went out of his way to find a location that made competition virtually non-existent. Sure, there was Wynne’s— the little hole-in-the-wall place a few streets further into South Bank— like James said, but there was simply no comparison. Not to the three-storey beauty that was this building, what this location would turn out to be.
Fleamont leaves once the walkthrough is over, and Sirius and James spend the rest of the morning meeting with construction and design and looking over plans and blueprints. It only takes a few hours, so it’s still before noon when their work here is done for the day. Maybe there is some merit in this whole ‘waking up early thing’, he has the rest of his day ahead of him to do whatever he wants.
He and James emerge back out onto The Cut, the street now bustling with people walking in and out of shops and grabbing food for their lunch breaks. Sirius looks over to his best friend to see James’ eyes already on him, soft and full of pride.
“Great job, Pads.” James shoves his shoulder, with a blindingly bright smile that shows all his teeth. And James, perfect human being he is, doesn’t let Sirius ruminate on the praise too long. He knows it often makes him uncomfortable. So it makes Sirius’ heart swell with gratitude for his friend when James continues, “Wanna come over for brunch? Lily has been begging to see adults who aren’t just me.”
Sirius shoves his shoulder right back. “God, you’re both getting so old, inviting me over for brunch. What happened to us?” he teases, taking off in the direction of the Tube with his arm slung around James’ shoulder.
They were all quite wild in their uni days, especially James and Sirius. Sirius was still rebelling after escaping his parents and his upbringing, and James was always game to follow him into something stupid. But now, they’re in their late twenties, and James and Lily have a kid, and everyone else is getting engaged or being promoted and just becoming real adults. It’s strange, most of the time Sirius still feels like a teenager.
“You’re nearly six months older than me,” James says, exasperated smile on his face.
“Semantics.” Sirius waves a hand through the air. “Will Prongslet be there?”
“Where else would our son be in the middle of the day?”
“Then count me in,” Sirius chirps, each step he takes bouncing with energy. Today is going to continue to be a good day. Harry is one of his favourite people in the whole world, which is to be expected considering his parents are two of his other favourite people in the world.
James just shakes his head, a mock hurt pout on his lips. “Sometimes I think you only love us because of Harry.”
Sirius barks out a laugh, but he doesn’t refute the statement.
Remus Lupin has always been a morning person. His internal clock wakes him up at seven on the dot every morning, and even when he does have to set an alarm, he’s never one to snooze it. The second his eyes are open, he’s up.
He spends the first few hours of his day sipping on his Nespresso mocha that he makes every morning and sitting at his desk, staring at a blank screen, willing his brain to write a single word. He’s been working on this novel for almost six months now, and he’s hit the part of his process where his writer’s block is so severe, he’s lucky to get a hundred words down in a day. But hey, one hundred words is better than zero. He has to take the little victories when they come.
It’s noon by the time he drags himself out of his flat to head to the shop. Evan typically opens, Regulus works the mid, and Remus closes. It keeps his mornings free to write, which is just how he likes it.
He wasn’t exaggerating to Padfoot, honestly, he probably didn’t quite do enough to encapsulate the sheer emptiness of the shop now that school was back in session. With no parents taking their kids out to pick up required reading for the start of term, and no groups of teenagers with afternoons to waste strolling around the neighbourhood, they were lucky to top a hundred customers in a day. Funny, how numbers seem to repeat like that.
Remus absolutely spends more time than he should on his phone talking to Padfoot during his shift. But he’s the owner, what is he going to do? Fire himself?
“Earth to Lupin?”
Remus is shaken out of his hypnotised daze with a pale, slender hand waved in front of his face.
“Hm?” Remus can’t seem to shake the dreamy smile from his face, even as he’s met with the exasperated sight of Regulus Black standing in front of him, leaning over the counter next to the till on his forearms. “Oh— sorry, Regulus,” he says, running an embarrassed hand through his mop of sandy hair.
“Padfoot again?”
Remus looks down at his still open text thread, the telltale three dots that Padfoot is forming another reply— most likely one that will leave another blush on Remus’ cheeks— blinking up at him.
“Yeah…” Remus decides it’s probably best to hit the power button before Regulus can read any of their conversation. He’s always going on about people being too shameless with their texts open, always says ‘If you’re going to have your messages open on the Tube with no privacy screen, I’m going to read your embarrassing texts over your shoulder. People should be more careful with their phones in public, that’s not my problem ’.
“I swear, you’re head over heels for a bloke you’ve never even met,” Regulus says, and a prickle of defensiveness runs down Remus’ spine.
“I am not head over heels for him,” Remus scoffs, really trying to stay cool, but he’s getting incredibly worked up about this. Which is ridiculous, because Padfoot is only a guy. “Like you said, we’ve never met. He’s just— fun to talk to.”
“Mhm.” Regulus levels him with a look that is unimpressed enough that it could make Remus rethink all his life choices. He’s very good at that, communicating in raises of eyebrows and tilts of his head. “Well, I think you’re insane for getting invested in a total stranger you met on a Reddit server. That’s ‘exposition of a horror film’ level stuff, Remus.”
“It’s not like he knows my real name—or where I work.” Remus has been very careful to keep all identifying information about himself out of his texts with Padfoot. It’s gotten harder and harder as they continue to talk every day, but Remus is pretty convinced that Padfoot wouldn’t be able to find him with the information he does know. It’s mainly just the basic stuff, like: “But we’re most likely around the same age— if I can believe the age he told me— and we both live in London.”
Regulus takes a minute to ruminate on that, grabbing a stack of books that need to be reshelved and splitting them up into which sections of the shop they belong to. Remus has known Regulus for long enough that he knows when the man is formulating words, so he braces for whatever is about to come out of Regulus’ mouth next.
“Remus, I’m your best friend, right?”
That takes Remus by surprise, and for just a second, he forgets that he’s annoyed with Regulus for prying. He gets back to it quickly. “Obviously,” Remus murmurs, rolling his eyes.
Regulus grabs one of the separated stacks of books— the group that goes back in the bestseller section— and leaves his spot leaning against the till, talking to Remus over his shoulder. “Great. Then, as your best friend, it’s my duty to tell you that I know you, I know you’re going to get obsessed with this guy and want to meet him in person. And it’s going to be awkward, or he’ll be ugly, or his breath will smell terrible,” Regulus says, stopping with his motions of reshelving books to make a fake gagging motion. Remus has to try really hard not to roll his eyes again. Thankfully, the shop is empty other than them. But Regulus isn’t finished yet, he continues, “And then I’ll be there for you while you cry over him, because I’m a spectacular friend, and you’ll swear off texting random men forever. And in less than a month, you’ll have some new guy that has you smiling down at your phone like a lunatic.”
Regulus isn’t wrong. He does know Remus better than nearly anyone else. They met in uni in a creative writing course they both took, and they’ve been inseparable ever since. They live together, have been flatmates ever since Regulus graduated, so yes, Regulus knows him better than anyone. There’s only so much you can hide from someone who shares a bathroom with you.
And he’s also right that Remus does have a pattern of getting way too attached to random men on dating apps before they’ve even met in person, idolising them and putting them on this pedestal that they can inevitably never match up to. Pandora always says it’s the Pisces in him. Remus thinks that maybe he’s just pathetic.
Remus presses a few buttons on the till, the click-clacking of the keys a good distraction. Somewhere in the middle of Regulus’ lecture, he made it back to the counter and is leaning against it again, watching Remus with knowing eyes. “Am I that predictable?”
“No, I’m just very intelligent and observant,” Regulus says, arms crossed and chin raised like the posh brat he’s always been.
He takes a deep breath, opening his mouth again and looking like he’s going to say something, when the shop door is thrown open, the bell on the door clanging violently. In the next second, Barty Crouch Jr. is barrelling into the shop, spiky hair looking even more messy than usual and a slightly crazed look in his eyes.
“Guys.” Barty hurls himself onto the till counter, sending one of Regulus' careful stacks of books toppling to the ground in his wake. Great, now someone is going to have to pick those up. “Major news,” Barty breathes, heels already kicking against the counter in a rhythmic thump, thump, thump.
“Barty, for the last time, we don’t want to hear about whatever kinky shit you got up to with Evan last night,” Regulus drawls, nose scrunching in distaste.
“Okay, rude,” Barty starts, hand over his heart in mock offence, “but that’s not it— did you hear they’re opening up a Potter Books on The Cut?”
Remus’ brain takes a long time to figure out what’s wrong with that statement. Regulus catches on a lot quicker. “What? Since when?” he practically squawks, running to the large shop window as if he’ll be able to see The Cut from several streets away.
“The signage just went up this morning, in that big multi-storey corner let that’s been vacant for months.” Barty pulls out his phone, opening up his images and showing Remus a picture of the signage— Coming soon: a Potter Books & café.
That’s when it hits Remus. “Yeah, because no one could afford the rent,” he breathes, dread creeping up his spine at the sight of the elegant three-storey building with its red brick and large windows with window boxes full of bright red and yellow flowers.
Regulus returns to the till, grabbing Barty’s phone right out of his hand to see the picture for himself. “Well, I guess Potter Books can,” he says, shooting a worried glance in Remus’ direction.
Remus gives Barty his phone back, not wanting to look at the picture any longer. It makes him a little sick to think about what it all means. “When’s the grand opening?”
“Week of Halloween,” Barty replies, feet still swinging and leaving marks on the front of the counter. Regulus grips one of his knees, giving Barty a patented Regulus Black Glare. Barty stops kicking.
“Great. So,” Regulus starts, his face morphing into business mode, the expression that reminds Remus that this man was technically titled, once upon a time. “We have approximately a month and a half to figure out how to sabotage this opening.”
“God, Reggie, I love you and your beautiful brain.” Regulus is too slow to stop Barty from grabbing his face and leaving a smacking kiss on his cheek.
Regulus’ face is scrunched and disgusted as he wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, grabbing Barty by the wrist and staring him down. “Bartemius. If you ever do that or call me Reggie again, I will fill every cosmetic product you own with battery acid.”
“Aww, you love me too?”
“That’s it.” Regulus grabs Barty by the ear, dragging him down off the counter and all but throwing him out the front door, locking it behind him. Barty immediately presses his face against the display window and fogs it up, drawing a heart with R + B in it.
Typically, Remus would be charmed by the antics of two of his best friends. But his brain is moving too fast, cycling through all the potential ramifications of a large chain like that opening up just a few streets away. It’s already slow enough with Amazon and Waterstones taking most of their business, the only upside was that there were no chains in this neighbourhood. So anyone walking along the Thames or tourists going to see a show or have a quick lunch who were looking for a book would end up here. Now… well, Remus isn’t quite sure what will happen now.
“You okay?” Remus startles at the sound of Regulus’ voice, close again, and when his eyes focus he sees Regulus is now behind the counter with him, one hand tentatively resting on the sleeve of his jumper.
Remus nods, tries to form his face into something resembling a smile. “It’ll be fine.”
Regulus just gives his arm a pat and goes back to reshelving the stacks of books Barty sent to the floor.
***
By the time he’s gotten nice and cosy in bed for the night, his mind is still reeling with thoughts of their new competition. Lately, there’s only one thing that gets him out of his head, so he picks up his phone and unlocks it.
Remus’ face is burning, and he types out three different versions of Please, God, yes! before he realises that’s way too crazy to say to someone he’s been texting for two weeks. In the end, he sticks with what works.
Remus falls asleep reading and rereading their messages, eyes catching over and over again on the word love.
Yup, he’s screwed.