July 1904 | An Awkward Encounter | Sirius & Phineas
It had been too many days in a row with nothing to occupy Sirius but the banalities of his loveless marriage and a social schedule which bordered on torture. Sirius apparated into London, a dark alley, and, donning his hat, he stepped out into the street. He had heard rumours of a bar where men like him liked to meet, and wanted to see it for himself. No doubt, it would be small, and probably vile, but that meant that no one would see him. No one who counted, anyway. And if they did? He’d quickly dispose of that problem.
Sirius needed a warm body. Needed to slake his lust, and his appetite for death. He wanted to hold a heart in his hands. He needed to spill his seed into someone who was groaning for it. He’d use his own name, needed to hear it choked out of someone’s mouth.
The public house was nicer than he’d imagined, far nicer than the outside suggested. It was warm inside, and around the room, men sat in twos and threes, speaking in hushed tones.
At a low armchair sat a man alone. Blond with an open face and kind eyes, a greenish grey. Very nice eyes. Sirius thought he might bottle them. But not yet. They made eye contact, and the man’s face was both cautious and optimistic, when he nodded to Sirius, vaguely waving at the armchair nearby.
Well. Pleasantries shouldn’t take long. That was good to know.
Sirius ordered a glass of best Scotch at the bar, and sat in the armchair, smiling. One of the smiles he used to disorient and disarm, eyes sparkling, trustworthy. It was a rare event for someone to meet that smile with distrust. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Sirius.”
“Josiah,” the man offered, and he shook Sirius’s hand briefly. A good, strong handshake, though his expression was somewhat submissive. That boded well. And no surnames; that tended to suggest they were both, in fact, in this bar for the same reason.
“You’re married,” Josiah blurted suddenly.
Sirius tamped down a flash of irritation. “Indeed I am. I have a family to run; marriage is the least pleasurable aspect of that particular job.” Josiah looked oddly disappointed. The bartender brought Sirius’s drink, and he sipped it, once again disliking the smoky taste.
If only Muggle bars sold firewhiskey.
“I’m not sure what you mean about running a family,” Josiah said, with the trace of an apology in his voice.
“I envy you that,” Sirius said, with a friendly laugh. “I surely envy you that. Money, children, my siblings… all a great deal of work, and no one notices unless it goes wrong.” He finished his drink. “I didn’t come here tonight to talk about my family.”
Josiah swallowed; Sirius could see it in his throat. “I live close by,” he admitted, and Sirius gave another warm smile, good man, you are catching on.
“Then shall we?” Sirius asked.
Josiah hesitated, blushing a little. “I don’t often…”
“I am quite trustworthy, I can assure you of that.” Briefly, Sirius considered using a touch of occlumency; he had some skill with it, but it was a point of pride that he never brought anyone unwillingly to the bed. “I am entirely discreet, and I have no interest in announcing your proclivities to your neighbours. And I assure you…” He smiled again, just a little, eyes wide and blue. “I will make this a memorable night for you.”
Josiah gave an urgent, stuttering nod, and Sirius stood, pulling coins from his purse, and leaving them on the table.
They spoke little, on the short walk, though to ease Josiah’s nerves, Sirius commented on the warm weather, on the smell of jasmine. Folgate Street. Very nice, the shiny black door, the red shutters. With a shaking hand Josiah unlocked the door, and ushered Sirius inside. Sirius looked around, and was pleased with what he saw; the open fireplace, which would be very nice in the Winter; leather couches that looked well made. He was not a poor man. Vaguely, Sirius wondered if Phineas’s home was as nice.
“Very pleasant,” Sirius said. To his surprise, there were a number of magical artifacts in the room. There was a brief moment of panic. “You’re a wizard?” he asked. With a guilty look, Josiah nodded.
“I won’t tell anybody,” he said. “I should have admitted I knew you on sight, but I wanted…” Well, no, he wouldn’t tell anyone, would he? So Sirius supposed it made no difference, in the end. Josiah looked distinctly uncomfortable, as though he was just now wondering if this had been a bad idea.
Well, Sirius decided to ease his fears. He took a step, two, closer to Josiah, cupped his jaw in one hand, and leaned to kiss him. Gently, for a moment, nudging Josiah’s mouth open, slipping his tongue between Josiah’s lips. Josiah responded with a degree of urgency, relieved, Sirius supposed, that he was finding he had not been brought here under false pretences. His hands quickly found Sirius’s waist, and Sirius began to feel himself respond.
Well, if there weren’t be any unnecessary pleasantries, all the better. “Do you live alone?” he said, against Josiah’s mouth.
“I have a flatmate,” he admitted, “But I am not expecting him home for several hours.”
Sirius thought for a moment. He liked the leather couch, the red blanket folded neatly on the armrest, and he strongly desired to bend dear Josiah over it, right there in the sitting room.
Well. It was a risk, certainly, but one he was prepared to take, he decided, and should the flatmate return home unexpectedly Sirius would end his life very quickly indeed. Not a problem. So he slipped Josiah’s jacket from his shoulders and draped it over a nearby chair.
