He was not welcome here - he knew that. He did not need his father’s eyes staring across at him, nor his mother’s hiss as he stood there at the grave to tell him that he was not wanted. He did not even need to see his brother’s scowl to remind him that he was no longer a Black, and should not be at this place. But Sirius had never cared for propriety.
The ornate headstone of black marble bore the name ’Alphard Phineas Black’. Sirius was here not just because duty bound him, but because he wanted to be here. He needed to say goodbye. He smiled, a touch sadly, as the celebrant droned on about his uncle, informing the selected few who’d appeared on this miserably wet day, that Alphard Black had been ‘an outstanding wizard of the highest nobility’. Sirius bit his lip to stop himself from laughing as he remembered the bedtime stories his uncle had read him and Regulus; acting out the voices to Babbity Rabbity had caused Alphard to develop hiccups that had lasted for several hours.
Although, Sirius thought, that could have been down to all that mead he used to drink.
As the ceremony drew to a close, Sirius watched the mourners shuffling their feet, itching to get back to Grimmauld Place where the funeral tea would be laid out. He wondered briefly what would happen if he attempted to join the throng. Would he be able to get inside the house, or had his father barred him when his mother blasted him from the tapestry? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out, not today, not when he could instead be in a warm pub with his friends telling them about Alphard.
He turned away decisively and marched from the graveyard, but when he got to the fence surrounding the cemetery, he looked down and realised he was holding a flower. He studied it, puzzled, but then remembered that as a mourner and relative, he was supposed to have dropped it on the coffin as it was lowered into the ground. He hadn’t paid the flower any attention at the time, but now, as he held it up to his eyes, he saw it was a lily. His fingers touched one waxy petal, and he shuddered because it felt like skin with all life drained from it. He wanted to throw it on the floor in revulsion, but he couldn’t. It should have been lain on the coffin with the others, and now Sirius wasn’t sure he could bear it to be on the ground getting trampled underfoot. Instead, he threaded it through his overcoat top buttonhole, aware, but not bothered, that he looked faintly ridiculous. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he retrieved a scruffy woollen hat, and pulled it firmly on his head.
He walked out of the cemetery and towards a patch of scrubland by the road side. Bending down, he picked up a rusty can. A few seconds later, it glowed and Sirius was transported away from the North London Cemetery and back to Hogsmeade.
He nodded to some Hogwarts students as he walked along the High Street. It was raining harder here than in London, and he strode quickly to the Three Broomsticks where he’d arranged to meet the others. He had told them he’d meet them at three, so was surprised not to see any of them at the bar when he walked in.
“Have my mates been in?” he asked Rosmerta, as she walked over to serve him.
Rosmerta shook her head. “Don’t think so, Sirius. It’s been busy, but I’m hardly likely to forget them, even without you,” she replied, giving him a small wink.
Sirius winked back. He always enjoyed the banter and mild flirtation with Rosmerta. Both knew that nothing would come of it, although Sirius remembered with embarrassment the face-aching crush he’d had on her when he’d been a third year, and she’d just started as an eighteen year old barmaid working for her dad.
“Is that flower for me?” she asked, and bending over the bar she pulled it slowly out of his button hole. “Oh, a lily, not your usual style at all.”
Sirius smiled slightly, and then reaching out he took it from her hand. “I’d only ever bring roses for my favourite landlady.” He placed the lily back in his buttonhole. “I’m wearing this for someone else.”
The door blew open, and someone half fell into the pub. Rosmerta raised one eyebrow archly. “Hmm, there she is, Black,” she said as she walked away.
“Huh?” Sirius turned round to see Lily Evans picking herself up from the floor. She looked up and on seeing him at the bar she walked over. “You after me, Lily?”
“Not that desperate,” she said spiritedly (it was her usual response), then smiled apologetically. “I’m here on a mission of mercy, Sirius. Potter and the others landed themselves in detention and have been told they can’t come in to Hogsmeade. Remus asked me to tell you, in case you were … oh I don’t know … he said worried, but I’m sure you know they can take care of themselves without you.”
Sirius grinned broadly. “What did they do this time?”
Lily grimaced. “I’m not entirely sure, but Filch is oozing something repulsive from …” She blushed and Sirius laughed.
“Will you have a drink with me, Lily?” he asked as he picked up the glass of Firewhisky. “I don’t want to go back yet, and I don‘t want to drink alone.”
Lily glanced outside; through the window the could see the rain pelting down on the glass. She shivered as she remembered the biting wind. “A Butterbeer would be lovely,” she replied.
“Oh, good Godric, Evans. I’m trying to recreate a wake here. Butterbeer just doesn’t cut it!” Sirius exclaimed raising his eyes to the ceiling.
“A wake?”
“Mmm,” he replied. Signalling to Rosmerta, he ordered a drink for Lily and then they wove their way through the pub, finally settling down at a small table by the window.
Sirius stared at the rain as it lashed against the window pane. Feeling a hand on his arm he dragged his eyes away and looked at Lily.
“My Uncle Alphard died,” he said in response to the question in her eyes. “I’ve just come back from the funeral.”
“Oh, I see,” Lily replied, and she squeezed harder on his arm. “Were you close?”
Sirius shrugged. “Not really. I got on with him, but we didn’t see him much. I think my mother disapproved of his lifestyle.” He grinned at Lily and lifted up his glass. “He liked a bit of a drink, did Alphard, so I was hoping the others would be here, and then we could see him off in style.”
Lily sighed and leant back in her chair. “Instead you’re left with a boring, law-abiding girl who never drinks.”
Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. You, Lily, are just better at getting away with things. I still haven’t forgotten that ink pot you levitated over my head in Potions when we were fourth years. Sluggy would have sent me straight to detention, but he actually smiled at you. I was half expecting him to award you House points.”
“You were being particularly annoying that day,” she said, giggling. “I think Professor Slughorn would have done it himself, if he’d had the chance.” She paused and looked at him. “Is it a magical custom to wear a buttonhole to a funeral?”
“No,” he replied. “I forgot to drop it on the coffin with the others. I --” he broke off as he tried to think how he could explain this, “-- I didn’t want to leave it on the ground, so …”
“”It looks a bit limp and sorry for itself,” Lily mused and she plucked it out of his buttonhole. “Lilium longiflorum. ”
Sirius watched the flower. It stayed limp in her hand. “That spell didn’t do a lot,” he said scornfully. “You must be losing your touch.”
“It wasn’t spell, idiot! It’s the name of the lily.”
“How do you know that?” Sirius asked curiously. He picked up his glass and took a swig of his drink.
She smiled. “Well, Sirius, just as you know everything about your constellation, I know everything about my flower!” She took a gulp of her Butterbeer, draining the bottle. “When I was born, my mum had a large bouquet of Lilium lancifoliums delivered to the hospital. She took one look at them, another at my red hair, and declared I was to be called Lily. Before then, she’d been adamant that my name would be Daisy.” She pulled a face. “I think she was also hoping I’d be a very calm girl if I was called Lily.”
Sirius touched one of the petals with his finger. Inside the pub, it no longer felt cold, but velvety and enticing. “Are lilies calm flowers?” he asked lightly.
Lily put her head to one side and he noticed how her nose wrinkled slightly when she was considering something. “My mum thought so at the time and they are a funeral flower.”
Sirius laughed. “You can’t get much calmer than death.” He leant forwards. “So, was your mother disappointed when you didn’t turn out the way she’d hoped?” he asked, a touch bitterly.
She smiled widely and Sirius realised that one of her front teeth was just a little bit crooked. A mild flaw, yet it gave her smile character.
“Not now,” she replied. “Not when she sees how much I love this world, but I must have been hard work as a child. I used to scare her when I jumped off swings and landed without a scratch. But then,” she giggled, “if she’d realised that Lilium lancifoliums are actually Tiger Lilies, then I think she’d have stuck with Daisy.”
As Rosmerta walked by, collecting glasses, Sirius raised his hand to her. She made her way to their table. “Yes?” she asked snappily.
Slightly taken aback at her tone, Sirius ordered another Firewhisky and was about to order a Butterbeer when Lily interrupted him. “I’ll take a Firewhisky too, please, Rosmerta.” She winked at Sirius. “We should see your uncle off in style.”
Rosmerta turned sharply and walked back to the bar. Returning with two drinks, she slammed them down on the table without speaking.
“What have you done to upset her?” whispered Lily as the landlady left them.
“I dunno. She was fine when I got here. It must be you … oh!” Sirius chuckled as he remembered Rosmerta‘s waspish tone when Lily fell through the door. “She thinks I’m with you.”
Sipping her drink, Lily frowned slightly. “I am with you. What’s wrong with that?”
“No, I mean with you, like a couple on a date,” he explained.
“Oh, I see,” Lily replied and mischievously took his hand. “Is she jealous?”
Sirius looked down at Lily‘s hand touching his. He wondered for a moment what it would feel like if she ran her long fingers through his hair, touching his neck and … Hastily, he shook his head. “Rosmerta’s very fond of James,” he said thickly, removing his hand from hers. He took a gulp of his drink feeling the Firewhisky sear his throat.
Lily pulled a face and sat back in her chair. “Well, she should go out with him then. I wouldn’t complain.” She finished her drink and stood up. “Come on, let's get that lily of yours back to Hogwarts. I‘m sure I could find you a vase to put it in - prolong its life for a bit.”
“Not much point in that,” replied Sirius shrugging. He picked up the flower and held out his hand to her. She glanced at Rosmerta, who was glaring across the bar at them both, and then put her hands firmly in her pockets.
“Scared of Rosmerta, are you, Lily?” He paused. “Or perhaps you don’t want to upset James?”
He laughed at the scowl sweeping across her face. “Oh, come on, Lily, admit it. James isn’t so bad, is he?”
Shooting Sirius a murderous look, Lily walked towards the door; then she turned her head back and smiled slightly. “How about we drop the flower into the lake and let it drift? It could become a Nymphaeaceae - that’s a water lily,” she added knowledgeably.
Sirius considered. “Uncle Alphard would like that. He was always telling me how he used to swim in the lake and fight off Grindylows - probably lying through his teeth, but he was a good story teller.”
Lily laughed as they walked out the door. “Like uncle, like nephew - is that what you‘re saying?”
Draping an arm across her shoulders, Sirius wondered what Lily would do if he told her that his uncle had also entertained a particular tendresse for red-haired witches. He was sorely tempted but … Prongs would kill me, he thought regretfully.
“Yeah,” he said, sighing. “I’m like my Uncle Alphard in more ways than you‘ll ever know, Tiger-Lily.”
Contemplating Lilies by Equinox Chick
Story Notes:
In the Muggle world (in UK anyway), eighteen is the age when you can order alcohol in a bar. Wizards and witches come of age a year earlier, and as I couldn't find any canon reason not to, I decided that the drinking age was also seventeen. I hope this does not offend anyone.
~~~