Written for the Test Your Limits Competition in the HPFC Forum
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I knocked on her front door, her favorite flower in hand. They smelled absolutely atrocious to my sensitive nose but I knew they'd help me get in her good favor. She nitpicks at everything, it's really starting to get on my nerves. Peter swore she was worth the effort though, apparently something about doing magnificent things with her tongue...
"Denise!" I exclaim when she finally opens the door. About time I add mentally. London isn't exactly the warmest place to be in February.
"Sirius," she greets me cordially, allowing me to kiss her cheek. She smells amazing, much better than these stupid gerberas. What a stupid name for a flower- ah, I'm getting off-track.
She looks tense, but allows me access into her flat, shutting the door behind me. "You look lovely, as always, Denise."
"Mmhm," she says, eyeing me evilly. Her porcelain hands snatch the flowers from my hand (thank Merlin, they were really annoying my sense of smell), and stomps to her kitchen.
"Something wrong, love?" I ask, following behind her carefully. This woman has a wicked fast arm and tends to stick with the more...emasculating hexes.
"Of course not. I'm always this angry at you."
"Well, if you weren't so uptight you wouldn't be so angry all the time," I offer her a charming grin; she narrows her eyes, filling a vase with water.
"Come on now, love, tell me what's bothering you. Surely you can't be this upset at little ol' me?" I wrap my arms around her narrow waist and pull her close.
"Are you quite certain about that, Sirius Black?"
Her tone is a warning. Sparks of danger flash behind my eyes; run, it's a trap! No no, it's fine. I can calm her down. Maybe just a kiss will...
Slap!
"Bloody he- what was that for?" My hand goes to my cheek but the stinging doesn't cease at all. Not even a little bit. Owwww!
"How dare you pose for Playwitch magazine? Such a dirty publication! How could you?" she is screeching, reminding me of dear old mum, and I can't help but wince at the sheer decibal of it.
"W-what? I have no idea what you're talking about."
Of course I know what she's talking about. I'd ran away from home at sixteen, lived with the Potters for a year, then they died. When I graduated from Hogwarts I had no money. I couldn't take James' hand-outs and until my father died I had not two sickles to rub together. I needed coins, fast.
"Don't play stupid with me, Sirius Orion Black!" Oh Merlin, the screeching. "You posed for that filthy, wretched rag of pictures for money!"
My shoulders shrugged on their own accord, my palms faced upwards in an attempt to either claim innocence or magically lift the ceiling off so I could fly away...I'm really not sure which one.
"I can't even look at you now! I am so completely appalled at your disrespectful actions. You're lucky I don't send a copy to our entire Hogwarts alumni!"
"Lucky? Did you just say I'm lucky? Listen Denise, I was young and in a bind. I'm sorry you don't like the photograph, but you have to admit... I look rather sexy in it..."
She threw the magazine at me, and then threw us both out.
Through it all, the thing that upsets me the most is that I can smell those bloody flowers.