It Always Starts in Cokeworth
Chapter One

1

Cokeworth always smelled slightly of coal and cotton.

As a young girl, Lily never noticed the odors of the factories across the river. She had been born in Cokeworth General Hospital, had attended Cokeworth Primary School, and grew up on Packer Street where the wind passed along the scent of burning coal more strongly than the rest of the entire town. But the summer after Lily's first year attending Hogwarts in the clean Scottish highland air, Lily stepped out of her father's car upon her return and nearly gagged.

In the summers following that first awful transition back to the smell of Cokeworth Lily had managed to grow accustomed once more to the stuffy air—but it was Hogwarts' scent that gave her a true sense of childhood nostalgia.

So it was strange that, after finding a place that felt much more like home than her home town, Lily found herself twenty, married, and settled in Cokeworth.

She sat on the front porch swing, watching the shade line move across the street. It was Lily's day off—not that Lily had a job, exactly. Against her best intentions, Lily had become a housewife in the spitting image of her own mother. On the bright side, magic made quick work of the menial housework Lily faced every day. The down side included long stretches of abject boredom.

At around two o' clock, Lily decided to go to the store. There was nothing in particular she needed to purchase; if she spent the rest of her day stuck on Packer Street her mind would snap and she would take it out on poor Richard, who did absolutely nothing to deserve Lily's wrath. With a vague plan of action in mind, Lily stepped back inside her house and was immediately met with a soft mewling.

"Oh hush, Mosley," she sighed, stepping carefully as her orange tabby tried to wind around her ankles. Mosley cried out for affection and Lily half-heartedly bent down to stroke her cat's spine before moving forward and up the stairs.

As she climbed the staircase, Lily spared a glance for her wedding photograph. Richard had never looked more handsome than he had that day, and she still had the wedding dress in the back of her closet. She considered taking it out for a moment before abandoning the idea.

The wheels of her shopping cart squeaked every two seconds as they rolled along the linoleum. Lily gritted her teeth and ignored the sound, wishing she could bring her wand to the store.

It wasn't allowed. She shouldn't even bring out her wand for housework, but the idea of locking her wand away in her trunk along with all her schoolbooks and robes and potions kit was too upsetting to contemplate. What Richard didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and no one was home to see her cast a few spells here and there—

"Lily, dear, what a lovely surprise," said a familiar voice.

Lily winced and plastered a smile on her face before coming to a halt. She half-turned, keeping her hands on the shopping cart is if someone might steal the contents.

"Mrs Kern," she cooed. "How nice to see you."

Her grandmother's friend pushed her cart right up besides Lily's. "I don't usually come out to the market these days; Trudy likes to cook for me. But I thought, why don't I make something for my daughter for a change? She's been so generous, taking me in in my old age."

Mrs Kern rarely spoke kind words about her daughter Trudy, and "generous" had never made an appearance before. Certainly Mrs Kern wasn't shopping for her daughter's benefit—Lily had discovered shortly after married life began that the grocery store was not only the locale of fresh food but also fresh gossip. Clearly whatever Trudy had been bringing home was limp and inedible for her mother's raw diet of petty foibles.

"Yes, my mother often spoke of how kind Trudy is," Lily replied.

"It's such a shame about your mother," Mrs Kern simpered. She learned forward like a dog scenting a rabbit during the first hunt of the season. "And poor Gertrude, having to watch her daughter pass on without any grandchildren! At least Wendy got to watch both you and Petunia walk down the aisle before she passed. I wonder, will your grandmother see any great-grandchildren in the future?"

"I know Petunia's trying for a child," said Lily. She wanted to scream at the wizened old woman, using her mother's death as a bait for news. How dare she treat something so painful in such a careless manner? "She and Vernon are so dedicated to starting a family."

"And what about you, dear?" asked the wretched old woman.

Lily froze. "Pardon?"

"Don't you and Richard want a family?"

"Of course we do," she answered. This question was an easy one—she'd practiced her response in front of a mirror many times. "Right now, we're more interested in spending time with each other. It's so important that we truly understand one another before trying to raise a child. Or children."

"It seems a bit difficult to truly understand your husband when you sleep in separate beds."

"I…what?"

Mrs Kern smiled, knowing she had the "rabbit" in her sights. Lily knew it too; her heart was beating a mile a minute. The old woman chased after her story.

"Meg and Paul said they were at your house the other day having dinner, and Meg told me that when she went upstairs to use the loo she just happened to stumble into the guest room, and all your things were in the closet!"

"Did she?" Lily replied through gritted teeth.

Meg West had apparently not inherited Trudy's kind nature, instead taking after her horrid grandmother.

"It's terribly concerning," Mrs Kern added, as though any of this were about Lily's well-being.

"There's nothing to be concerned about," Lily said. Her mind raced.

The old woman pursed her lips. "I know I didn't sleep in a separate bed from Mr Kern in my early twenties," she tsked. "The first five years after our wedding we could barely stay apart from each other."

Lily suppressed a gag at the thought of Mr and Mrs Kern in bed together, of Mr Kern with his sagging face and lewd eyes coupling with the bloodhound he called a wife.

"Well, we would be sharing a bed, except for…" she trailed off with a deliberate, hesitant pause. "No, I shouldn't. It's private."

"Oh, you know I wouldn't tell a soul, dear," lied Mrs Kern as she went in for the kill.

"It's just…poor Richard," said Lily. "He recently had surgery on his…" she lowered her voice, "manhood, and it's such a discomfort to have me so near when he can't…oh, you know…"

"Raise his mast?"

Lily nodded, trying desperately not to cringe. Oh, she owed Richard for this.

"Not that he won't be able to soon," she added, for the sake of his dignity. "There's nothing permanently wrong. But we're spending a little time apart while he heals."

"I see," Mrs Kern said. The blood was on her lips, or so she thought. "No one will know a thing, dear."

That was a lie, Lily knew as Mrs Kern trundled away. She silently swore at Meg for being so wretched. She'd thought the younger woman could have been a friend, someone close to Lily's age in Cokesworth who she could actually speak to for a change. But no, Lily had been nothing more but the sound of a trumpet in Mrs Kern's never-ending hunt for gossip.

She didn't feel much like shopping anymore. Lily turned her cart around and headed toward the checker.

Richard himself arrived promptly at six that evening, letting himself in the house with a pleasant "Honey, I'm home!"

"I'm in the kitchen," Lily called to him.

His footsteps grew marginally louder as he crossed through the foyer and sitting room. "Smells good in here," he commented, walking through the swinging kitchen doors.

"It's an apology meal," she said.

"You're apologizing to me?" Richard inquired. "What have you done?"

"I told Mrs Kern you have a defective...willy." she admitted hurriedly.

Richard dropped the salt shaker he'd picked up. "Sorry, you what?"

"I said I told Mrs Kern your pecker isn't working. Oh, look, the lamb's almost done!"

"Lily…"

She sighed and turned to face him, her back against the hot oven. If she hadn't been sweating before, Lily knew her neck was damp now. "I ran into her at the market and apparently Meg told her we've got separate beds. I had to think of something, and the first thing I thought of was—"

"Damage to my parts?"

"Well, why else would we be sleeping apart?" Lily pointed out. "I did tell her it was temporary, if that helps."

"Damn," Richard cursed all the same. He glanced into the pot of hot water. "Potatoes? Excellent. Anyhow, you said it was Meg who told Mrs Kern?"

She turned and opened the oven. The laml she was baking looked about ready, but when Lily stuck the thermometer in the roast it still wasn't at the temperature she needed. It was a shame; if ever she needed something to do with her hands it was now. Lily closed the oven door again and set the timer to five more minutes.

"When she and Paul came to dinner last week, Meg took a close look at our bedrooms and our closets," Lily told him. "I have no problem with Paul visiting, but that girl is not allowed in this house again. Not if she's going to spout everything she sees off to that horrid woman."

"Paul's gran isn't that bad—"

"She's going to tell all the wives in this town about your little problem. And they will tell their husbands."

"Shit."

Lily bustled over to the stove and checked on the potatoes. "You're not the only one who needs this marriage to run smoothly. In order for that happen, Meg West can't come over again."

"So that's the scolding part," observed Richard. "Are we going to see the 'apology' part of this dinner soon?"

"Lamb, potatoes, and caramelized carrots in about twenty minutes," she answered. "Go get freshened up, and then help me set the table, if you please."

"Alright. I have to say, there have been better apologies in my lifetime." Richard hesitated before adding, "Thank you for covering, though. I wish it had been a different lie, but I do appreciate it."

Lily nodded twice; sharp, jerky movements that didn't really mean anything. As Richard walked away and headed up the staircase, she nodded again to keep the pressure behind her eyes from turning into tears.

2

The dog had been hanging about for the past week. Lily had first noticed it when she went for a stroll through her neighborhood; a large, mangy dog with black fur and giant paws. She had thought nothing of it at the time, but after spotting it at least a dozen times since, all times without an owner, Lily was growing nervous for the poor creature.

She'd resolved after watching the dog chase after a squirrel that the next time she spotted it, she'd take it home and give it a proper bath.

What Richard would think of a pet in their home, Lily had no idea. They'd never discussed owning a pet, mainly because caring for another living being implied some sort of long-term commitment. Mosley had been Lily's cat before she got married and it was by tacit agreement that after the marriage ended he would stay with her. A new pet was a different discussion altogether.

But the dog tugged on something in her. Whenever she saw it there was an innate sense of familiarity, one that kept touching an instinct to take the dog home and feed it, and she would simply inform Richard that the dog would be her responsibility.

That was why on this day Lily had embarked upon a long walk around Cokeworth, wand hidden in the band of her skirt, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mangy creature. She hadn't walked through most of Cokeworth in a long while—half the town was covered in soot and the other half was likely to give her bad memories. Yet she was discovering some of the pain in those memories had quieted.

For example, the front lawn where she and Petunia played with Richard as children, two blocks down from where she and Richard lived now, used to fill her with such regret, but today she didn't think it mattered all that much.

And the park swings where Severus Snape had first told Lily she was a witch…well, that was a batch of mixed feelings, of which she felt only muted echoes.

After several hours of wandering through the town, Lily turned onto Spinner's End. She'd deliberately avoided all routes that lead to the cul de sac, wishing to see anything but Severus' old home. She heard Tobias Snape still lived there, even more bitter and inclement since his wife had passed. Lily remembered feeling sorry for Severus when she learned about his mother, the first time in a long while she'd pitied anything about him at all.

The elder Snape had never liked Lily, treating her with a mixture of disappointment and revulsion. He thought the worst of witches and wizards and viewed Lily as a traitor, as though she had willed herself to become magical somehow. She'd never played with Severus on Spinner's End because of Mr Snape and even now a little part of her held that same childhood fear of him.

It was the dog, ultimately, that decided her excursion down Spinner's End.

She saw the hind quarters of it ducking behind a ramshackle house, tail up in the air and wagging. Lily glanced around the street but saw no one—not that she would, at this time of day. Most occupants of Spinner's End worked in the factory, men and women alike. Emboldened by her apparent privacy, Lily hurried forward.

"Dog?" she called tentatively, completely at a loss of how one might call an animal. Lily had only ever owned cats in her life, and cats never responded to summons. "Here, dog!"

She peered around the house, catching a glimpse of black fur. The dog was ferreting through the garbage with apparent glee, snorts and snuffles filling the air.

"Hello, there," said Lily. She pulled out her wand very slowly.

She didn't think it was dangerous, but it was a very large dog and one never knew about rabies and the like. It might go mad and suddenly run her down, and what good would that do either of them?

As she stepped on a crinkly tarp discarded on the ground, the dog snapped its head up.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then the dog cocked its head curiously.

"Arf?"

"Hello," Lily repeated. She tucked a good length of her wand behind her to keep from scaring the creature before realising to the dog, it was just a stick. She brought it back out into the open. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Nrph," the dog answered. With a last, longing look, the dog pulled itself away from the trash bins and started padding toward Lily with a wagging tail.

She bent down and put out a hand. "I'm very nice, see?"

The dog stepped forward and smelled her for all of two seconds before stretching out a large pink tongue and wiping her entire hand, leaving behind sticky drool.

"Ugh," Lily groaned. She wiped her hand on the hem of her skirt. "Listen, I'm going to take you home and give you a bath, alright?"

It was possible she was imagining it, but the dog's tail began wagging a bit harder in response.

"Come along, then, that's a good dog," she said, standing. "Good boy. Are you a boy?" She bent over and peered between the dog's legs where his manhood dangled proudly.

The dog nudged her thigh with his head and looked up with large, eager eyes.

"Yes, you're adorable," Lily told him dryly. "Let's go home."

Mosley reacted very badly to his new companion.

Within the first ten minutes of the dog's arrival, her orange tabby completely tore up Richard's favorite armchair, clawed Lily's arm hard enough to break skin, and, when the dog had enthusiastically given chase, pushed the matt in front of the back door so far away that it was nearly in the foyer.

Lily had to physically pull the dog away from Mosley after her cat had been cornered in the sitting room, a feat that was more difficult that should be since she was also using a Shield Charm to separate the two. It wasn't until she had locked the dog inside her bathroom upstairs that Lily could set everything to rights. The armchair, scratches, and doormat were easy enough; Mosley's terror was another matter.

"Hush, Mosley," she insisted for the fiftieth time as her cat cried loudly. "Hush, you're fine."

Mosley had peed all over the carpet in her one-minute absence, and Lily could not for the life of her find the missing drops of it. She could smell the urine so she knew it was there, but Mosley had done a good job in his revenge of hiding the evidence.

"Shh," she added as he whined more insistently. With some hesitancy, Lily put out her hand and began to stroke his back. She'd had a few bad experiences where Mosley had used his claws to communicate his displeasure with her, but thankfully he seemed more interested in comfort than justice at the moment.

It took a few minutes, but Mosley's puffed tail did return to its normal sleekness. He began to purr.

"There, see?" Lily reassured him. "That dog won't do anything to you. He's a good dog. You can't even hear him barking up there, he's so good."

Mosley eyed the staircase, apparently not agreeing with her.

"Come here," she sighed, grabbing him around the middle and hoisting him up.

"Scourgify," Lily incanted, pointing her wand at the carpet. She fanned the cleaning spell all over the sitting room and then silently dried off the surfaces, returning everything to the spotless condition in which she kept it.

"There," she said to no one. To Mosley she added, "Let's get you some food."

"What on earth should I do with you?" Lily asked the dog a while later.

He splashed around in her tub, a rubber duck Lily had found under the sink his current quarry. If it was possible for animals to smile this dog was grinning like a madman. He seemed determined that she should be at least as wet as she was and Lily had given up drying herself off with hot air from her wand.

In response to her question, the dog looked up with large, irresistible eyes.

"I'm not going to toss you back out on the street," she reassured him. "You need food and a warm place to sleep, don't you?"

He wagged his tail frenetically, flinging water in all directions.

"Thank you," Lily said sardonically. She sighed and leaned forward again to wash the last of the soap out of the dog's fur. He didn't smell appealing by any measure and Lily had to restrain herself from wrinkling her nose. It wasn't the dog's fault; no reason to be rude over the whole wet dog affair.

"I hope you have an owner somewhere," said Lily as she drained the tub. The dog shook himself all over her. "I don't want to put you up in a shelter where they might put you to sleep, but I can't keep you here for too long. Richard already puts up with Mosley as it is; if I start my own pet rescue I suspect he'll put his foot down."

"Arf," he replied. Lily fancied that the bark sounded inquisitive.

"You'll meet Richard tonight," she explained absently. "He's very nice, but not much a pet lover."

She grabbed one of the fresh towels from her cupboard and put it on the linoleum tiles. With another towel she began wiping down the sopping wet dog.

"If I let you downstairs, you have to promise not to bother Mosley," Lily said. "He's gotten quite comfortable being the only pet around and I don't want to upset him. Don't chase him again; that'll put you out of the house faster than anything. He's my only friend in the world, you see, and I can't have him hating me."

It was nice, talking to the dog as though he understood. Lily was beginning to see the appeal of a dog—whereas Mosley often exuded an air of indifference, this dog was staring fixedly at her with large, understanding eyes that she couldn't help but confess to.

Even as Lily went through a list of tasks she would have to undergo in the next day—a trip to the vet, dog food, a leash and collar, not to mention toys—she didn't feel overwhelmed at the thought. The dog was a different sort of companion than Mosley.

He might even be good for her.

"I'll have to figure out what to call you," she murmured.

The dog licked her cheek in cheerful response.

3

"We can't keep him," Richard said after dinner the next night.

Lily had been in the middle of arguing the dog's case for permanent residence, and she shut her mouth with a glare, leaning back into the couch with one hand still on the dog's soft head.

"He's surprisingly well-trained for a stray, I'll give you that," he continued, "But Lily, we can't…you know why we can't."

"I like him," she retaliated. "Besides, you don't have to do anything. I'll take care of everything around here, just like I always do."

Richard's eyebrows went up. "There's no need to be rude."

"It's true, and you know it," Lily shot back. "I'm expected to take care of everything, just sit around the house all day while you go out and have…friends."

He looked slightly ashamed.

"I understand this isn't fair for you," he acknowledged, "but we can't have a dog."

"Can't I have anything for myself?" snapped Lily. She pet the dog's soft ears, hoping he wouldn't shy away from her harsh tone.

"Lily, Paul is allergic to dogs," said Richard. He gave her such an earnest yet somehow pathetic look that Lily knew, she knew that no matter what she said or if she got down on her knees and begged it wouldn't make the slightest difference.

Just like everything else that had ever made her happy, that she'd ever wanted, this dog was not destined to stay.

She glared at Richard, knowing that really it wasn't his fault; they were both stuck in a life they hadn't wanted. But at least Richard got to keep something for himself. At least Richard didn't have to hide who he was.

"I'll help you put up flyers tomorrow," he offered after a minute. "We'll go around the neighborhood and let everyone know about this dog, and if we don't find his owner I'm sure there will be someone who wants him."

His tone was very reassuring, but the words failed to live up to his intentions.

Lily didn't answer, and eventually Richard got up from his armchair and headed upstairs to his bedroom. He shot a half-hearted "goodnight" as he went, to which she didn't respond.

It was only when she heard the door to his room shut that Lily slid to the floor. She wrapped her arms around the dog's neck and buried her face in the fur around his collar. The dog seemed to understand; he propped his chin on her shoulder and sat very still.

She didn't cry.

The days of Lily's tears had long past. She never let them fall, no matter how much they might try. It was a small victory against her lot, but even small victories made the difference between monotony and misery.

Lily didn't know how long she sat there with the dog, but at some point she stood up dusted off her trousers, and looked down at him.

"You'll be spending the night with me," she told him. "Let's make the best of a bad situation, yes?"

The dog wagged his tail in response.

She smiled at him. Mosley could sleep somewhere besides her bed for one night, at least.

Richard didn't keep his promise.

In the end, Lily was the one who went around Cokeworth neighborhoods, stapling posters that read:

"Dog found. No known owner, very friendly, please call Mr and Mrs Richard Beauchamp for details. If no owner steps forward, please contact about adoption."

Lily hadn't a camera so none of the flyers had a picture of the dog itself, but she had brought him along to keep her company. Before leaving the house she'd conjured a leash and collar for him which he had not liked.

She was in a supremely foul mood, most of it directed toward Richard who had at the last moment realised he was to have tea with his mother and sister. She wasn't entirely sure if she believed him, and in her irritation was convinced that he'd invented the whole thing spur-of-the-moment so that he wouldn't have to work at all.

In the mid-afternoon Lily gave up altogether and walked home, her feet sore and blistering. She hoped Richard wouldn't be at the house—she wanted to heal her blisters and wasn't keen to wait until her husband went to sleep.

"I hate Paul," she announced to the dog. When she glanced down at his large, earnest eyes, Lily sighed. "I don't hate Paul," she amended, "but I wish he didn't always come first. I'm not expecting Richard to love me, but he could at least respect me."

She grimaced at a signpost for Miners Court, where Paul lived with his sister Molly. Paul didn't have to marry anyone, unlike her and Richard. Paul didn't have to put on a façade just to pass by in life; no one in their right minds would spread rumors about Mrs Kern's grandson around town, even if they happened to be true.

The younger daughter of the Evans family who attended a mysterious school in Scotland, or the only Beauchamp boy who never dated anyone, on the other hand, might as well be open season for the gossiping wives of Cokeworth.

"Honestly," Lily told the dog, "if I'd known what I was signing on for when I agreed to this whole marriage thing, I would have run straight to London and gotten a flat with my schoolmates."

Later that night, over a lukewarm dinner minutes from turning bad, Richard apologised for leaving her alone. As was the standard between them, Lily said she forgave him.

Her "forgiveness" didn't stop her from dropping scraps of meat on the floor for the dog in a very obvious manner, which the dog reveled in. Richard grimaced at some of the more exuberant displays from the dog but seemed to realise he was in no position to protest.

A part of her was ashamed to be torturing Richard so…but a larger, more vindictive part enjoyed lashing out at someone, even if it was over something like a dog she'd only known for two days.

Despite her satisfaction, Lily went to bed feeling hollow. She had the dog follow her upstairs to sleep on her bed again. He'd been a comforting presence the night before and if Lily had never needed a comforting presence, this was the best night for one.

"Let's make the best of this, shall we?" she asked the dog, who wagged his tail before hopping up on her bed. "I'm going to take a shower, and then we'll go to bed."

The dog flopped onto his stomach and stared up at her with warm eyes, tongue lolling out. She suppressed a wince at the drops of drool coming out his mouth and headed into her bathroom. Even though she had no reason to hide anything from the dog, Lily shut the door and, after a few seconds' thought, locked it.

Twenty-five minutes later, she was quite glad to have done it, because when Lily stepped out of her bathroom with wet hair and her soft bathrobe on, she let out a high-pitched shriek that hurt even her own ears.

Distantly, she heard a door open and footsteps coming toward her down the hall.

Richard rapped on her door. "Lily? What is it?"

She didn't answer, still staring at the bed. Lily wrapped her arms across her chest tightly.

"Lily?" a brief pause. "Should I come in?"

"It's alright," she called to Richard through the door. "Just a spider. I killed it." Her eyes didn't leave her bed.

"Alright," Richard said after a minute. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight."

Lily waited until she heard him shuffle back to his room and shut the door before hissing angrily, "What in Merlin's name are you doing on my bed?"

"Well, you invited me to sleep on it," answered Sirius Black.

TBC

This is the first three parts of my ongoing fic on tumblr (see my profile for a link). The fic is updated Tuesdays and Fridays at 4pm PST (Pacific Standard Time), and I'll be putting new chapters up every other Friday at 2pm PST. Let me know what you think so far!