Prompt: However, he did not give up. He brought to his wooing the same determination which had made him second gardener at the Hall at twenty-five. He was a novice at the game, but instinct told him that a good line of action was to shower gifts. He did so. All he had to shower was vegetables, and he showered them in a way that would have caused the goddess Ceres to be talked about. His garden became a perfect crater, erupting vegetables. Why vegetables? I think I hear some heckler cry. Why not flowers--fresh, fair, fragrant flowers? You can do a lot with flowers. Girls love them. There is poetry in them. And, what is more, there is a recognized language of flowers. Shoot in a rose, or a calceolaria, or an herbaceous border, or something, I gather, and you have made a formal proposal of marriage without any of the trouble of rehearsing a long speech and practising appropriate gestures in front of your bedroom looking-glass. Why, then, vegetables?. . . . Well, you see, unfortunately, it was now late autumn, and there were no flowers. Nature had temporarily exhausted her floral blessings, and was jogging along with potatoes and artichokes and things. Love is like that. It invariably comes just at the wrong time.

(P. G. Wodehouse, The Man Upstairs and Other Stories)

-

Sirius had only really liked one thing about Grimmauld Place: the greenhouse, but recent events made him loath it. He could hardly ever go out into the backyard and even then it was always under Molly or Remus' watchful eye. Remus was more lenient on how long he could run about the yard as Padfoot, but Molly would shout at him if he stayed too long. The greenhouse on the other hand was safe from public intrusion and he was allowed there any time he pleased. He did spend a good deal of time in there; his mother's firewhiskey was there, under a trick door in the middle of the floor. Remus hadn't found that just yet which meant he wouldn't get that 'I am disappointed in you' look just yet.

He was there now, long legs curled under him as he sipped from one of the many bottles, watching the pale blue leaves of one of his mother's still living plants twitch in the still air. He was amazed that anything was alive in this place, but somehow these little blue shoots had thrived almost. The blue plants had bloomed during the summer. Large, pretty blood red flowers that Sirius had tended to with great care. He couldn't really say why he hadn't destroyed the damn thing along with the rest of his mother's belongings. The flowers had faded some time ago and now he was just left with these blue plants.

The leaves were soft to the touch, like velvet. It reminded Sirius of his mother's robes. She had once, when he was five, worn dress robes for a Halloween party that had been made of the softest velvet. She had laughed when he had buried himself in the fabric during the party to hide from his father.

He growled at the plant for reminding him.

"Sirius?" he looked up sharply.

Remus was standing in the door, his brown eyes on the bottle in Sirius' hand. Sirius' shoulder tensed, expecting another fight, but Remus just shook his head and walked into the room to kneel down beside him near the plant.

"Hey," he said in reply.

"What is this?" Remus asked, reaching out to touch the soft leaves. They leaned into his touch and he smiled pleasantly.

"Don't know. Mother was the herbologist. She liked to breed things. Made a plant that would bite things," he muttered.

"This certainly isn't biting anyone," Remus said, petting the leaves.

"It's probably poisonous," Sirius growled.

Remus raised an eyebrow at him and he quieted, taking another drink from the bottle before setting it aside. They stayed like this for a few moments, Sirius glowering at the plant, his legs tucked under him while Remus crouched next to him, his hands on the floor as he gazed quietly at Sirius. With a grunt of irritation, Sirius lurched forward; Remus immediately reached out to keep him from falling over; and ripped one of the plants out of the ground. He very nearly did fall over, but Remus had one hand on his arm. Sirius laughed.

"It's a beet," he said finally, holding up the dark red vegetable. Remus gazed at it in surprise.

"Beets don't have blue leaves," he said quietly. "Are you sure it's not a crossbreed of some sort?"

"Fine, it's my heart," Sirius snapped, ignoring the question as he shoved it into Remus' chest and knocked him back onto the floor and away from him. "I don't care."

"You're drunk," Remus said as he examined the beet in his hands.

"A lecture?" Sirius demanded, swallowing the last mouthful.

Remus sighed, shaking his head.

"No."