Sirius knew he had messed up the moment he had watched his new wife's face drain of color, but had been powerless to do anything to rectify the great crime he had committed, his still thunderous anger and frustration having rendered him preservatively mute at the moment. And while normally he would be quite proud of the fact that he had reigned in his temper, the fact still remained that it was that very restraint which might have contributed to the pregnant Slytherin's concerns. He had caught her unawares with his temperance, he realized, and it was that which had surely unnerved the master occlumens.
"You has upset her!" Kreacher reproached ferociously, white spittle flying from his lips as he threw down the tray in disgust. "Miss Severus is needing a hot bath and a long nap! Not your selfish threats!" Having worked himself into an uproar, the irate Elf threw up his hands in a gesture of complete exhaustion. "Master Regulus would never be treating his wife so meanly!"
While Sirius knew he had done wrong with growling at what was clearly a very agitated woman, he had not actually thought of himself as being threatening until the irreverent Elf had started to lay into him. And even though he knew he had not intended to scare the woman, certainly not, the fact still remained that he had done so in his clumsy attempts to convey the frustrations within him that had come about with Severus's great reluctance to include him in almost anything.
"Would you stuff it already?" Sirius snapped. "I'll apologize, alright?!"
"As Master should!" Kreacher huffed, kneeling to retrieve numerous portions of citrus from the floor.
Resisting the urge to take his frustrations with himself out on the relatively innocent servant, Sirius rolled his eyes and hurried from the room, not at all eager to listen in on Kreacher's muttered lectures on the 'proper' way to treat a woman in Severus's condition. If he wanted any information on that subject at all, he would simply ask Molly, someone with more than just a little authority on the subject.
"Where is you going?!" Kreacher demanded, calling loudly after him.
"Out!" Sirius barked, annoyed with all the bagering.
"Master is needing to take his jacket!" Kreacher ordered shrilly. "It might be raining soon!"
As much as he would have loved to spite the Elf by leaving behind his jacket, Sirius found himself heeding the advice and shrugging the light windbreaker on. The sky had been threatening rain since dawn, and a chilly wind (heavy with the promises of an early fall) had come right along with it. By leaving the relatively warm article of clothing behind, he would only be spiting himself, something he was not at all keen on doing despite his strong Gryffindor prolictivities.
Stepping out into the quiet streets of Islington with a slight shiver, Sirius sighed and shrugged the red jacket closer to his skin, greatly disliking the way the chilly air reminded him of Azkaban. But he was on a mission, he reminded himself, one far too important to forgo in favor of the warmth of his fireplace.
Though it had been an immeasurably long time since he had been a patron of any of the shops within his neighborhood, Sirius found the abode of Bertha's Blooms easily enough, having only had to recircle a block or two before the small store surfaced before him. If memory served him currently, and he wasn't exactly sure it would, a family of boisterous Greeks owned the facility. He had talked James into getting Lily's birthday flowers here, one year, he recalled, and the results had been magnificent. Not only did said redhead absolutely adore the custom-made arrangement made perfectly to her preferences, so too had she also forgiven the bespectacled idiot for ever having forgotten her birthday in the first place. Sirius only hoped another arrangement from the same shop would soothe his wife's ire.
Eager to reconcile with his distraught wife, for both their benefit, Sirius stepped eagerly into the shop and relaxed a bit as the warm air hit him and coursed through his bones.
"What are you doing out in such weather?" A muscular man behind the counter wondered, his enormous fingers surprisingly nimble as he tied together a bouquet of roses.
"Only one reason!" A young woman pipped, her smile pretty and all knowing. "He is in trouble with his wife!"
"Ah, yes!" The large man agreed with a laugh. "But how much trouble is he in? That is the important question."
Sirius, despite himself, grinned at the familiar experience of having found himself in the proverbial dog house- the phenomenon itself serving to remind him that his life, albeit gradually, was returning to normal. Or, at the very least, a certain degree of normal.
"The answer is, 'a lot.'" He confessed, rather sheepishly.
"Ah," The man nodded knowingly, "We have ways of fixing that. Don't we, Peanut?"
"Yes, Papa!" The younger of the duo laughed, already making her way out from behind the counter. "No man has failed to earn an apology from our flowers."
Sirius didn't have much to time glance about the crowded shop before she was standing before him, a smile on her face and an expectant gleam in her dark brown eyes.
"What is your wife liking?" The college-aged woman wondered, when after a long time Sirius was still silent.
Looking about at a myriad of flowers all in a variety or purples, pinks, and red, Sirius grimaced and came to the realization that he did not even know Severus's favorite color, let alone her favorite type of flower.
"She likes..." He stalled, looking around the shop desperately for an answer. "She likes-"
"Is she a fun person?" The woman queried. "Is she a happy person? Does she like loud colors?"
"Is she more modest?" The man behind the counter participated. "Is she a woman who likes the finer things?"
"Er..."
"Daisies." An elderly woman suggested, looking away from the flowers she had just been sniffing. "You can't go wrong with daisies."
Sirius looked at the suggested white blooms, prepared to take the aged woman's advice, but found the plant to be too colorless and bland for what he was trying to accomplish. For as much as people might like to assume that Severus was as bland and boring as unbuttered toast, Sirius had come to find that there was far more beneath the stoic surface of her countenance than she liked to let on.
"She has a more...romantic taste." Sirius suddenly realized, thinking of all the lace and antiquated jewelry she was so fond of wearing.
"Roses." The three other inhabitants of the store intoned at once.
"Pink roses." The elderly woman added, gesturing him toward a large display of said blooms.
Dark pink, fat, and fragrant, Sirius found them perfect for his intended apology.
"How many will you be wanted?" The young shopkeeper pressed. "Remember, you said you were in a lot of trouble."
"I'll take three dozen." He decided. "And your prettiest vase."
"Get him some chocolates, too, sonny." The elderly woman advised.
"And your largest box of chocolates." Sirius agreed.