Walk Away
by Seer Of Spots
Summary: ONESHOT SiriusLily, JamesLily. He never imagined there could be one person, so in love with another that there wasn't anything left but pretends and lies. He never imagined he would feel it. He never imagined she'd turn her pretty head and walk away.
Rating: T
Word Count: 6100
Author's note: Wow. Er. I wrote this as an entry to Red and the Wolf's 'Tales of Dogs and Scoundrels' challenge, and, erm, forgot about it? Lost it?
Anyway, here it is. I considered mushing it together with The Reviews Lounge's Valentine's challenge, but thought that was a bit unfair, so I'll write something separate for that.
Happy reading.
Takin' my time, usin' my line
Tryin' to decide what to do
Looks my my stop, don't wanna get off
Got myself hung up on you
Seems to me you don't want to talk about it
Seems to me you just turn your pretty head
And walk away
- Walk Away, by The James Gang
"Lily!" He is at her door, arms wide, grin wide, eyes wide.
"Lily!" shrieks Petunia, who had the misfortune of opening the door.
"Petunia?" Mrs Evans asks, peeking out into the hall. "Oh! Hello," she says to Sirius.
Sirius rearranges his face so that he looks less deranged. He charms. "Oh, hello, Lily, I must have missed you hiding in there!"
Petunia gags.
Mrs Evans blushes, easily beguiled.
She giggles. "I'm Mrs Evans –"
"No!" Sirius says, sounding appropriately shocked. "You don't look a day over sixteen, ma'am, if I may say."
"Oh, you are charming, aren't you? Are you waiting for Li –"
"Sirius?" Lily says as she leans over the banister to see what is going on and nearly falls in surprise. "What're you doing here?"
"I was just meeting your delightful family, Miss Evans," Sirius says, winking at her mother.
"Oh, please, don't," Petunia moans from the doorway. Sirius turns and winks at her.
"Better?"
Petunia scowls and grabs her coat from the rack. "I'm going out," she grits, and slams the door behind her.
"Delightful," Sirius repeats, shining at the two remaining Evans women. "Have you been having a good Christmas break, Lily, Mrs Evans?" He eyes the colourful decorations that are taking shape in the windows, on the banister, around the photographs. He grins. "It looks right festive in here." His hand brushes tinsel and holly and paper cut-outs on the door.
Lily still looks confused as to why he is here, so early in the holidays, why he is here at all when they only started talking to each other two months ago. Nonetheless, she walks down the stairs and stands next to her mother.
"I was in the area," Sirius continues, "and thought I'd drop by to see my favourite Gryffindor girl. Sorry for the short notice," he adds, looking sheepish. "My, uh, parents went out, and I forgot my key," he invents, knowing that he does not need a key to get back inside that house.
"Oh, you poor dear. Do you want to borrow Lily's owl and let them know?" She is so sincere and caring Sirius is reminded of Mrs Potter.
He grins. He is cavalier and brave and fourteen – he is Man. He can cope. "Nah, it's alright, Mrs Evans. Thanks, though." He bites his lip shyly in a way that makes him look younger than he is tall. "Er, you wouldn't mind if I took Lily for a walk, now, would you?"
"Of course not!" Mrs Evans says, and Lily splutters. She doesn't really mind going with Sirius, it's her mother deciding for her that irritates her.
"Mum!" she says, looking at her mother.
"Yes, dear?" Mrs Evans doesn't look at Lily, so enraptured is she with Sirius. "Now, Daddy – Mr Evans," she offers to Sirius, " – will be home at seven, so make sure you're back by then." Giddy Mrs Evans nudges Lily, whispering something in her ear before she turns on her heel and heads up the stairs. Lily's face floods with blood as she stares after her mother.
"Mother!" she hisses, scandalised, her eyes darting to look back at Sirius who is torn between looking conspicuously deaf and blind, and grinning triumphantly.
The cheeky grin wins out and as Lily stomps over to meet him, it only grows.
"What?" he asks as Lily thumps him on the arm. She looks behind her and just catches her mother ducking out of sight behind the banister. "She's so sweet," Sirius whispers, and Lily's scowl deepens. Louder, Sirius calls out, "See you later, Mrs Evans! I'll bring your twin back in one piece, not to worry."
A shower of giggles sprinkle down from an invisible person on the stairs, and Lily rolls her eyes. "See you later, mum," she shouts. She grasps her coat in one hand and Sirius in the other and yanks them both out onto the front step, pulling the door shut with her foot as she passes through.
"What are you doing here? Apart from attempting to get my mother to combust – you're lucky my father wasn't here, you'd be in shreds by now. Don't you dare pop round for any late night visits – how creepy, you getting all warm over my mother," Lily mutters and rants as Sirius helps her into her jacket.
"Oh, give over," he chuckles, catching a whiff of her perfume as she shakes her hair out over her collar. "She's right darling, your mother – ooh! Look! She's still watching!" Sirius grins again, waving enthusiastically at Mrs Evans as she twinkles from the upper-storey window. Lily rolls her eyes again, grabs Sirius by the collar and drags him down the street.
He plays it up until they are well and truly out of sight.
"Well?" demands Lily, throwing herself into a park swing and looking at Sirius. "What're you down this end of town for on your own?" She begins to rock backwards and forwards in the swing, and Sirius helps, pushing her feet until she is flying, flying high, well above his reach. "You are on your own, aren't you?"
"Absolutely! Who'd you think was going to be with me? My mother? Ha!" Sirius shouts, free and fourteen, sprawling back into the cold, crackly grass at Lily's feet.
"Watch it," she says, nearly kicking him (on purpose?) on her next swing. "I was thinking more along the lines of Potter, Sirius."
"No," Sirius says and he puts on a haughty accent. "Mother and Father have taken James away for the holidays." He wrinkles his nose. "James didn't really want to go, but he couldn't exactly stay with me, could he?"
"Still doesn't explain why you're here," says Lily – who has been stubborn and thorough all her life, and isn't about to let it drop.
Sirius sighs and sits up. "Can't go to Remus's – he's too far away, and still always ill and peaky looking, even in high summer – can't go to Pete's as he's getting stuffed with muffins when he isn't helping his father about the post-run. Can't go home. So, I came here. You're almost one of the blokes – and you're a Gryffindor, so that's a plus."
Lily scowls and kicks a spray of dirt at him from underneath the swing. "A bloke! What do you mean I'm almost one of the blokes?"
Sirius brushes the dirt out of his hair pointedly. "That is how you're one of the blokes, Miss Evans."
"Oh, right! That's it, Sirius Black," she shrieks, her voice particularly unmanly as she launches herself out of her swing and on top of him, rough-housing and wrestling in the itchy grass.
"Lily!" someone calls out, and they both stop. Look up. Startled.
Sirius is sitting over Lily, hand poised to tickle, but with an 'Oof!' he has been over-turned and Lily is running, running, waving –
"Severus! Hello!"
Sirius sighs and stands up. Every time he has ever attempted to talk with her, to see her, Snape is always hanging around, watching, then stepping in and sharing his time with Lily.
Snape and Lily are talking in low tones over by the gate. Lily pouts and pats Severus's shoulder sympathetically.
Sirius was always put off by Snape.
Sirius likes loud people, vocal, big, egotistical people who are bright and charming and fun. Snape likes loud, vocal, egotistical, charming people, too. But he likes to watch them squirm, likes to watch them be silenced, likes to watch them suffer as their charms are torn from them.
Which Sirius always found rather creepy.
"Oi! Snape! Aren't you going to say hello to the other classmate standing here?" Sirius shouts, shaking dirt from his hair and collar and cuffs, emptying one shoe which was clogged with leaves.
"Hello, Black," Severus calls sarcastically, humouring him, and it is also this – this weariness with other people – that frustrates Sirius. Can't the bloke just be bloody normal, once?
By the time Sirius arrives at the fence, Snape is hastily closing off their conversation. "Must get back, Lily – you know what he's like. And her. Leave them alone, well." His eyes dart to Sirius, and he sneers. "Until September, then, Lily … Black."
Snape buries his hands in his deep, outsized pockets, and runs away.
Lily and Sirius wave at his back in silence until he is a little black dot at the end of the street.
Lily sighs, troubled by something, but Sirius does as all good blokes do and ignores it.
"Take you home?" Sirius asks.
She nods, then stops. "Wait – where are you going to stay? You said you can't go home …" She looks so worried and sweet and cute Sirius laughs. He flicks the end of her nose.
"I'll find some place to kip – I've been doing fine for ages, Lily. I've worked out some pretty nifty over-nighters these past few years."
Lily still looks troubled. "But it's winter …" Sirius says nothing, but kicks at the ground. Knowing she is getting nowhere, Lily sighs. "Look. Stay with us for tea at least – god knows my mother would keep you if she could – then you can go."
Sirius smiles, ruffles her hair. "I was wrong," he says, hand in her hair. "You're too soft to be one of the blokes, Lily Evans." He winks. They walk home.
That night, Sirius sleeps in James Potter's empty shed and Lily lies awake in her bed, wondering where he is, and whether he is cold.
"Hello, Mrs E," Sirius says, wiping his feet on the welcome mat. In his hand is a bunch of flowers, preserved with a simple charm. "I'm really sorry to hear about –"
Mrs Evans smiles. "Aren't we all?" she says. He offers her the flowers. "You've always been too sweet, Sirius."
He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it on the stand. He looks up the stairs, waiting for Lily to come down. The house is as it was the first time he visited her at Christmas. Half-finished decorations are strung about the place, waiting to be touched up, waiting to be –
"You can go on up, Sirius. She'll be happy to see you, I'm sure." Mrs Evans offers him a sad smile, small and tight on her ageing face. "Oh," she gestures at the flowers. "I'll go and find a vase." She touches his shoulder briefly and then turns to leave.
"Mrs Evans –" Sirius stops. She is so quiet, and so out of sorts. He takes a hesitant step forward, arms slowly parting.
"Oh," she sniffs. "I'd feel so silly." She bites her lips and looks away, fiddling with the flowers in her hands.
"You're not silly, Mrs E," Sirius says, enveloping her in his awkward fifteen year old arms. "You're not silly at all," he says.
With a ripping sob, Mrs Evans latches on to Sirius's shirt – craving this contact of a mother and son, he craving it right back – and cries.
Sirius says nothing, just holds her still. He towers over her – he's had another growth spurt – and he pities her.
He can't imagine any two people being so in love that one could be so shattered when the other left for ever. He always supposed it happened – or else where would the great love tales come from? – but he never thought he'd witness it.
Sirius leads her to the sitting room and settles her on the couch. She buries herself in his arms and cries for her husband. Sirius, still only a boy, doesn't really know what he's doing. It's a more than little awkward, hugging his friend's mother while she soaks his shirt and heaves and wheezes.
As she starts to calm down, he disengages from her and goes over to the little table in the sitting room where tea and sugar and hot water sit, ready for tea. There is a little pot of milk out, too – she's been waiting for a visit, perhaps his, perhaps not.
He makes her a cup as she tidies herself up.
When he turns around, she is staring at the mantel piece where a picture of Mr Evans and his family takes pride of place. Sirius smiles at it, and takes it down, bringing it closer with her cup of tea. He sets them down on the coffee table in front of her, and gives her a little half-hug. "You aren't silly at all, Mrs Evans," he says. "You're a wonderful mother and wife – but you're a wonderful human being, as well. And you know me," he says with a mood-lightening grin, "I'm always hanging around – I may as well be useful for something." He winks, and Mrs Evans emits a watery giggle.
"It's a pity he didn't know you better," Mrs Evans says, smiling sadly at him. "You're like the son we never had, Sirius."
Pride and joy blossomed in his heart and flooded his face as he turned bright pink. Mrs Evans laughed. "Well," he says, "you're just like the parents I wish I had. You drink your tea – I'll go up to see Lily –"
He looks up, and she is already standing in the doorway, eyes over-bright and throat over-tight. She smiles – no teeth, no grin – a little smile and beckons him away.
"Thanks, Sirius," she whispers, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat. "I think mum needed someone to hug – she likes to be strong for us."
She takes his hand, and leads him upstairs to her bedroom.
Sirius has never been in here for more than a minute before, and he takes his time looking at photographs and magazines and books that Lily has piled neatly in stacks according to size, publication date and preference. He chuckles at her pink quilt, and she hits him, blaming it on her grandmother's choice. Then he points out the matching curtains and slippers and night-dress, and she is vivid pink in the face – which he makes sure to tell her, as she now matches everything else.
"Shut up!" she shrieks, and she is wrestling him again, giggling and tickling – and Sirius enjoys it (perhaps a little more than he first intended) – and then she is crying, and Sirius is startled, but holds her anyway.
They talk for hours, little nothing words and weak jokes and a lot of silence in between. Sirius acts out a little play with her stuffed animals and she giggles and riots and joins in until there is a full-on fuzz-war going on in the little pink room.
Mrs Evans sticks her head in the door some time later, her cheeks scrubbed clean and her hair neatly brushed, and tells Sirius it's snowing outside. Sirius is surprised how late it is, places Mitsie on the floor next to Mr Puddles, and stands, ready to leave.
"It doesn't matter, Mrs E – I like snow, I can get on –"
"You most certainly will not!" Mrs Evans is firm. And loud. "Even if your parents let you wander around in the cold at night, I will not!"
Mrs Evans has long since stopped being polite about Mr and Mrs Black's parenting skills.
"Now, I can't reach the spare blankets – so you'll have to get them yourself." She glares at Sirius until he nods, meekly, and stands to follow her. "You two, ready for bed – it's late. Petunia's home, Lily," she adds to her daughter. "She's gone straight up, without a word – if you wouldn't mind – just …"
Lily nods, inwardly sighing, and smiles. "I'll talk to her after I've got Sirius sorted."
From underneath the front steps, Sirius has collected his overnight bag, which he was intending to take to James's shed once he left Lily and her mother.
Mrs Evans catches him as he ducks back inside, sees the bag and glares at him, knowingly. "Going home, indeed," she mutters, stomping off to the kitchen for some more hot water for tea. "If you aren't in that guest room in twenty minutes, Sirius Black, I will owl your mother personally and ask for her to come collect you!"
Sirius scampers away, certain that she'd never owl that old hag, but also wary of the Lily-like stubborn glint in her now-dry eyes.
Sirius and Lily brush their teeth, glimpsing at each other in the mirror, blushing and choking on toothpaste every time they're caught.
Sirius rinses out his mouth and runs his fingers through his hair as he waits for Lily to finish braiding hers.
"I like your hair like that," he says, tugging on a plait.
"And I like your hair like this," she says, reaching up and ruffling it. After a while she isn't ruffling, but is running her fingers through it again and again.
Sirius closes his eyes and leans into her hand. Her fingers are soft and his hair is soft, but her hands are slowing down as a blush emerges from under the collar of her night-dress and creeps over her neck and face.
Soon her hand is just resting, dead-weight, on his head.
They stare at each other, awkwardly, not entirely sure what to do next.
Then Petunia is clearing her throat from the doorway, seventeen and sneering. "Mother wants you both in bed," she says, "and I want to use the bathroom – Out!"
Lily hurries out of the bathroom and Sirius follows, prodding Petunia in the side. She shrieks and slams the door, catching the edge of his heel in it.
Lily pads down the corridor, slightly ahead of Sirius, and then she stops at her door. "Er, well … goodnight then," she says with a little wave.
"Yeah, er, goodnight, then," Sirius says, waving back.
A minute ticks by.
Sirius coughs.
Lily blushes.
"Right – I'll just, in here – shall I?" Lily stammers.
Sirius opens his mouth to reply, but Lily's door is already shut. She has disappeared.
"Lily?"
His voice is dry and hoarse, crackling over the bad connection.
"Sirius?" Lily yelps, pulling the receiver from her ear and staring at it.
Her mother flaps from the couch, and hurries to boil a pot of water – just in case he decides to come for a visit.
"Yeah …" Sirius is distracted and Lily is confused.
"Why are you – where are you calling from?"
There is silence on the other end of the line.
"Sirius?" Lily is worried.
"Oh, what?" There is a clatter on the other end. Then Sirius is back. "Sorry – I've never used one of these before. It's a bit weird."
"Where are you?" Lily repeats.
"Erm," Sirius coughs. "Outside?"
Lily drops the phone and runs to the window. She peers out into the summer evening, and, sure enough, Sirius is standing on the corner, half in, half out of a telephone box.
She rushes back to the telephone. "Well, what're you doing out there? Come in, silly. My mother just about had a heart-attack with excitement when she found out it was you!" Lily slams the phone down and gallops to the front door.
Mrs Evans darts out of the kitchen. "Is Sirius coming around for tea, Lily?"
"I'm not sure," Lily laughs. "He's standing outside, using the telephone at the end of the street."
Mrs Evans stares.
"I think it's a wizard thing," Lily offers.
"Ah." Mrs Evans nods sagely. "Fair enough. I'll just put some tea on then, shall I?" she stands there for a moment, as if waiting for Lily's permission.
"Yes, mum – do what you want; I'll be back in a minute, alright?"
Mrs Evans wanders back into the kitchen, leaving Lily looking bemusedly at her mother's back. "World's gone nuts," she mumbles, before yanking the door open and stumbling down the stairs.
There is Sirius, his new motorbike, his pride and joy, leaning against the phone box, his school trunk spelled down to a manageable size and propped up on the pavement. Sirius himself is half up, half down, edgily perched on the lid of his trunk.
He spots Lily.
He raises his hand and waves.
Lily rushes over and hugs him tight around his middle. "Oh, wow, Sirius!" she thrills, staring at his gleaming bike. "Where'd you get that, then?"
She smooths an enthusiastic hand over its beautiful finish and looks up to him for his answer. Her face falls.
"Oh, Sirius," she murmurs. She takes her hand off the motorcycle and brushes the pads of her fingers over a dark welt on his cheekbone. He flinches, but his eyes don't waver as they watch her. "What've they done to you?" Lily whispers, stepping closer still and hugging him tightly.
Sirius doesn't say anything, but the warmth on the top of her head and the tremors running through his body tells her more than she wants him to voice.
Eventually, Sirius stops, and barks a harsh, watery laugh. "Ran off," he said. His eyes, still damp, were steely. "And I'm not going back. I've had enough of that rubbish."
Lily looks up at him, searching his face for answers she'll quiz him for later. But quickly, she nods. She grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly. "Come on, then. Mum'll explode if we're not there soon. Or she'll start planning the wedding."
Sirius laughs again, wiping his face on his shirt.
"Dressed Muggle?" Lily said, appraising his shirt and jeans. She twitches her eyebrows and smiles cheekily. "Rebellious," she says, and Sirius is glad she laughs.
Soon, they are home and fed and watered. Sirius has stashed his motorcycle around the side of the house so Mrs Evans won't notice. He is set up in the guest room again, and he and Lily are lying side by side on his bed.
"Mum'll let you stay, Sirius," she says, playing with his long fingers.
Sirius watches her movements, wincing as she cracks one of his knuckles. She blushes and drops his hand. Sirius smiles and gathers her small hands in his.
"I'll go around to James's – I was booked to go over there next week, anyway, but now I'll just live there, I suppose."
Lily pulls her hands away. She is lying in a position which puts her face out of Sirius's line of vision. "Why didn't you just go there first, then?"
Sirius smiles more, reaching down to brush her hair from her cheek. She is sulking.
And blushing.
And looking right up at him.
Sirius looks into her face, following her lips and the line of her jaw, around the shell of her ear, and across into her eyes. "I'll always come here first," Sirius murmurs, and Lily believes him.
"Besides," he adds. "It's not as if I was going to cry on James's shoulder, is it?"
Sirius hops onto the slippery dip and perches there, leaning towards her when she swings away, and staying there as she swings forward again.
Lily giggles and puts her foot on his chest, pushing herself back and knocking Sirius backwards slightly. "What're you here for, anyway?"
"To see you," he says, but Lily rolls her eyes.
"Alright, Romeo, you can climb off my balcony, now." She stares him in the face. "Have you always been so … I don't know – romantically inclined? Does everyone have to love you?"
It would be nice, Sirius thinks.
"Of course they do," he smirks, and Lily rolls her eyes.
"Go on then, give me the honest reason as to what you were doing outside my house at nine o'clock on a Monday morning in the middle of winter."
"I told you, I wanted to –" Lily glares at him. He laughs, but inside he sighs. "Alright, then. I've bought myself a Place."
Lily's limbs go slack.
She hangs in the swing, staring at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?" she shrieks.
She hops off the swing in excitement and grabs his hands.
She is so small standing on the ground when he is so high on the slide, that she tugs him too sharply, and he topples with a grunt to the ground.
He is so low sitting in the snow when she is so high standing up, that, with a shriek, she too falls over.
Sirius eyes her slyly out of the corner of his eye, and a chuckle playing in the corner of his smile, he prods her ribs – and they are laughing, rolling and wrestling. Lily shrieks and giggles, Sirius shouts and laughs, and they are both sixteen, and then Sirius is kissing her, and Lily is kissing back.
Lily looks at him, surprised, but not un-pleased. Sirius rests his forehead on hers, and, nose-to-nose, whispers, "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?"
Lily, blushing, bites her lip. She looks away.
She nods.
And then they are kissing again, lying in the grass next to her childhood swings.
And she is there, with him, and he is happy – so happy – and he never wants it to end.
"Sirius?" Lily is standing just inside the portrait hole.
It is April.
"Lily," Sirius says, leaning over to kiss her.
Lily turns her head. The kiss brushes harmlessly against her cheek and flutters to the floor.
Lily steps back, her heel crushing Sirius's heart.
"Lily?" His eyes are wide, his face is frozen.
"I'm sorry," Lily whispers, her heart cracking with her voice. "I couldn't – I can't …"
Sirius looks at her, stunned, confused, and cold with betrayal.
"I love him, Sirius," she whispers, her eyes bright and dull with tears.
Sirius steps back.
Lily reaches one hand forward, trembling.
Sirius leans his whole self back, quaking.
Lily walks away.
Sirius blinks; it is three hours later. James is in his face, shouting.
"What were you thinking Sirius?"
Sirius says nothing. He doesn't know what he was thinking. What is James talking about?
He says as much.
His head cracks against the stone floor as James levels him with a punch.
Disgusted, his friend storms away. Over his shoulder, he shouts, "If you're not expelled, you're going to live a very lonely existence, Sirius!"
Sirius lies on the floor.
What happened?
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lily rush up the stairs.
What was wrong with him?
"Hello?" he calls through the letterbox. His voice is deeper, now, much deeper than that first day in December he went to Lily's house.
The door is roughly yanked open – Petunia – and a voice calls out from the sitting room, "James?"
Sirius frowns – it's always him at the door. Every year it has been. Since when has James ever been the first person knocking on the door, come the holidays?
He is jealous and he knows it, and he is angry, and he knows it.
And he is out of his league.
And he won't acknowledge it.
He schools his features. He pokes his tongue out at Petunia, the only one to see his disappointment, and calls out cheerfully, "No, Mrs E! Not James, quite yet. Just me."
And then Petunia is gone (out, up, who cares?) and Mrs Evans is out in the hallway, arms and eyes open and welcoming. "Sirius! I didn't recognise your voice – and look how tall you've gotten! My, you boys grow quickly, don't you? Come and sit down –" Mrs Evans pulls Sirius into the sitting room and forces him into the couch. Bustling about, Mrs Evans continues to talk to him. " –don't know where the blasted tea – aha! There it is. Milk? Sugar? No, what am I talking about – of course you will. You'd think I'd know how to make your tea by now –" she throws two biscuits onto a plate. Her hands are jittery with excitement and she can't get the lid off the sugar. "I don't know where Lily has got to – she said she was just popping out for a moment, but – oh! Bother, there goes the sugar!" Sugar grains spill over the table, and, hands flapping, Mrs Evans dances on the spot for a moment while she works out what to do.
Sirius smiles, Mrs Evans has become increasingly nervy since the death of her husband, but sometimes she's so Lily, Sirius can't help but be endeared to her.
He hops off the couch, grabs her shoulders and steers her back into her seat. "You relax, Mrs Evans, I'll get the tea."
His hands are steady as he cleans up the mess, as he infuses the tea, as he adds sugar and milk to his cup and just a dash of each to Mrs Evans's. He gets her out another biscuit – she would never get one herself – and lifts the tray, only to drop it as the door opens again.
It is Lily and James, giggling, hugging, kissing – flaunting – stumbling over the threshold. They help each other out of their coats – all too close together, far too enthusiastically – and grab hands as soon as they can. James is the first to look up.
He sees Sirius, hand drenched in boiling hot tea, in the living room of his girlfriend's house with an expression on his face he has never seen before.
At his stillness, Lily also looks up, and her eyes meet Sirius's grey ones across the entryway.
"Oh!" she gasps, dropping James's hand.
"Oh, bollocks!" shouts Sirius, unfrozen by the look in her eyes that shows she recognises that expression on his face. The tea – hot, burning, boiling tea – blisters his skin and he is suddenly alive again.
Flapping his hand, he hastily kisses Mrs Evans on the cheek as she dithers on the couch.
He flies past Lily, flies past James, grabs his wand from his pocket, and with a final curse and a pop, he is gone.
"Hello?" Sirius calls through the letterbox.
He is greeted with silence.
Sirius frowns, and looks at the posy in his hand. It is preserved, but he doesn't want to leave it on the front step – he wants to see Mrs Evans.
He knocks on the door for the first time in years.
He sighs and looks around, waiting for Lily to turn up, or for Petunia to come home – but, there's the car. It's in the driveway. Mrs Evans must be in, after all.
Sirius smiles – she wrote to him at the beginning of the year to tell him of all the gardening she's been doing, all the flowers, all the bushes, all the trees and fruit and veg she's growing. Dashing back down the stairs, Sirius grapples under a patch of long grass, hand scrabbling up, back, to the left a little and – ah! The house key!
He opens the little wooden box and draws out the key, jumps up the stairs, waves at Mrs Next-door who is peeking shyly from her curtains, pops the key in the lock, and enters.
"Mrs Evans? Your favourite boy is here – and he has flowers!" When he still gets no answer, he creeps to the back door.
He pauses, and flings it open – "Mrs Evans!" – his eyes wide and happy, he waits for the hug that never comes. The garden is empty.
He sighs. She must be on a walk. Lily said that her letters tell of her mother going on long walks into the parks in the area. She said she used to talk and cook and busy herself with Petunia, but now that Petunia's moved out, she doesn't like doing things in a big empty house.
Sirius walks back into the kitchen, straightening out the petals on his bouquet as he goes. He reaches under the sink and grabs a pretty vase – a little blue one that he knows Mrs Evans, and not Petunia, likes. He fills it up with water and puts the flowers inside. He looks about the kitchen, but the table, window sills and benches are already decorated with utensils and plates and letters – and he doesn't want to touch anything, because that's Mrs Evans's business.
He wanders out of the kitchen and heads across the entryway to the sitting room. He'll pop them in there next to his last bunch, and get some tea ready for when she gets home.
Straight in the door, Sirius heads for the tea table, arranging the flowers neatly against the wall. He pulls out his wand and casts a quick heating charm on the water, and accio milk! He stands there for almost a minute with his hand out, waiting for it to zoom around the corner and into his grasp. It doesn't, and he shakes his head.
Mrs Evans is out shopping. Petunia used to do the shopping, but now that she's gone, Mrs Evans has had to make do on her own.
He makes himself a cup of weak black tea instead, while he waits. He looks around the room, and his eyes alight on his favourite couch – the one with so many memories attached.
He laughs quietly as he walks over.
Yawning slightly, he grabs the arm of the chair as he swings himself onto it – and hot tea and broken china and Sirius goes everywhere as he throws himself away. Mrs Evans is asleep, eyes glassy, on the couch.
Sirius is shaking, he is bleeding, he is burning, and a god awful noise is assaulting his ears. It takes him minutes to realise it is his own voice, his own terrible keening voice that has brought Mrs Next-door rushing down to knock on the door.
Sirius, jelly-legged, scrambles to his feet, scrambles away, help help help flings open the door and almost falls on Mr and Mrs Next-door as he stutters and points and shakes and cries and help help help.
And then Mr Next-door is inside, and he is telling his wife to Stay Outside, and then he sees Lily and James walking hand-in-hand up the street, and the first thing James says is what have you done whereas Lily says what is wrong and then it's all black and white and splodgy, and then a week has passed and he is standing next to a grave.
"Oh, Sirius," Lily says, and she understands because she was his mother, too.
"Oh, Sirius," James says, and he doesn't understand because he thought it was his mother who was Sirius's mother, but Sirius appreciates the thought, anyway.
The two give him a lingering look, then turn and walk away, leaving him with his thoughts.
Soon it is all empty – he makes certain it is empty – and he sits at the foot of his parents' graves, and shatters.
"Lily." He is wet. His voice is wet. Her eyes are wet.
"Sirius." She is dry. Her voice is dry. His eyes are dry.
"Can I come in?"
She hesitates, looks behind her. She looks back at him, and can not say no.
He looks behind her, just to make sure.
"He's out," she says, nervous.
Sirius snorts, decidedly not nervous. He's sick of nervous. "He's always out."
Her face is pained, her voice is pleading. "Don't start," she whispers.
Sirius looks away. "Too late," he says, and shrugs out of his coat.
He can't imagine any two people being so in love that one could be so shattered when the other left for ever. He always supposed it happened – or else where would the great love tales come from? – but he never thought he'd feel it.
He never imagined there could be one person, so in love with another that there wasn't anything left but facades, pretends, and lies.
He never imagined it could happen, and he never imagined he would feel it. He never imagined she'd just turn her pretty head, and walk away.