chapter twelve
Back at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, Marigold searched the cold halls for her daughters. The kids would soon be returning to Hogwarts, and she wanted to spend as much time with the girls before they left.
She’d been called away constantly to help muggle-born children or go into the ministry for meetings. She was beyond wary of her coworkers now, certain of Voldemort’s return.
“Molly, have you seen the girls?” Marigold asked upon entering the kitchen where her close friend sat with her youngest two, Hermione, and Harry.
“I can barely keep track of my own,” Molly shook her head. “I just made some late morning coffee, however, come have a cup with us,”
“Thank you,” Marigold hummed, pouring herself a mug, adding milk and honey out of habit.
She leaned on the counter and looked to Ginny and Hermione.
“Alright you two, I want the Hogwarts drama…who’s dating who? Who hates who?” She piqued playfully.
“Ginny’s dating Dean Thomas!” Hermione beamed, only for the ginger beside her to flush and hide her face. Harry looked at her in surprise.
“Ooh, nice catch kid,” Marigold winked. “What about you darling?”
“Me? Oh god, no one,” Hermoine rushed out haughtily, but Marigold caught the young girl’s glance at Ron.
“Curious…” She mused from behind her mug.
“I’m just praying our twins don’t get into any more trouble this year,” Molly rubbed her temples.
“Can’t be any worse than what we were doing,” Marigold laughed.
“Molly was an upstanding student, she was a prefect don’t you know!” Tonks and Remus entered. “Marigold, your daughters are with Pads in the study,”
“They’re in safe hands then,” The woman shrugged, sipping her coffee some more. “I still want to know the gossip!”
“They won’t tell you anything, but I know it all,” Ron began to indulge cattily.
After twenty minutes of juicy news delivered by Ron, Marigold prepared herself another mug of coffee the same way she had earlier and set out to find her family. She found herself in the doorway of the study, before her a scene she’d only dreamt of guiltily before.
Sirius was coaching her daughters through the patronis charm. She stilled in the threshold and observed silently.
“Dig a little deeper, you’ve got to find a memory of pure joy, unadulterated by any other emotion.” His voice was kind and patient.
“I’ve got one,” Pralice nodded.
“What is it?” Pip asked her elder sister of ten minutes.
“Our thirteenth birthday,” Pralice’s smile was evident in her voice, one of Marigold’s favorite attributes about her daughter.
“What happened on your thirteenth birthday?” Sirius inquired gently.
“Mum taught us how to do makeup for the first time, she’d only ever done it for us before that.” Pip remembered.
“Tell me more, what was so special about it?”
“1991, August eighth, the house we grew up in that used to be our great grandparents on the Greek coast. Mum always kept the windows open, she liked to smoke cigars out of them sometimes,” The youngest indulged, Sirius’ back straightened at Pip’s detail.
“She had this grand vanity, a white whicker one with a huge mirror. We used to sit on her bed and watch her get ready when were little. You could hear the birds and the waves all hours of the day. She played a lot of old music on the Victrola. That’s where she’d drink coffee every morning, and we’d eat breakfast on the balcony 'cause that’s where we could best reach the neighbor’s orange tree.” Pralice included.
“Your mother brought me to that house once when we were younger than you are now,” Sirius gave fondly. “I got in trouble for stealing oranges on the balcony with your great-grandmother,”
Both girls laughed at this before continuing, none the wiser to their mother’s eyes watching them intently.
“When we turned thirteen she sat us down at the vanity and taught us how to curl our hair with magic, to fishtail our hair, to put glitter in the corner of our eyes, how to put blush on our noses so we would look sunburnt when we went back to England.” Pip expanded.
“Mum was teaching us a lot more than getting ready that day, trying to give us confidence, strength to not shy away from feminine power sources, teaching us how to behave with poise and respect for ourselves. She let us just laugh and embrace girlhood,” Pralice finalized.
“I knew she’d be an amazing mum,” Sirius smiled at the sky.
“Do you think she’d have been happier if she hadn’t gotten pregnant with us so soon?” Pip looked at Sirius, eyes wide.
Marigold almost rushed up to them at that point and hugged away her daughters’ fears.
“Absolutely not, you two meant the universe to your mother, I promise. I’ve never seen her as happy as she is when she’s with you both.” Sirius spoke before she could move. “In fact, I’ll show you the letters she wrote to Lily, they were lent to me right before Voldemort attacked the Potters. I kept them safe all these years, hoping I’d get to meet the pure souls she wrote so enduringly about,”
Marigold couldn’t help the water lining her lower lashes slip down her cheeks. Overwhelm with so many intense emotions at once, and hugged her arms around herself.
“Are you still in love with her?” Pralice treaded lightly. Sirius looked down at the brunette so like Henry Leopold, and yet a near carbon copy of her mother.
“Marigold Leopold…she’s hard to forget, especially when you’re locked up for over a decade.” Sirius nodded. “Your father was a good man, I never wanted to upset him with my affection for Goldie.”
This was the final straw, Marigold sniffled, tears running freely now. The three turned back to her, alarmed.
“Mum,” Pip called to her, and she crossed a dozen feet to them.
“I love you girls, more than I can express,” She clutched to the two of them. Sirius stood a couple of feet away, admiring the family unit solemnly. “I love you too you twat, in our own way,”
Sirius beamed at the scoff and bashful smile he’d been graced by the woman. Pralice extended an arm towards him as an invitation, and Sirius’ eyes flashed with shock. He was quick to accept, gingerly wrapping an arm around each of the twins’ shoulders, both hands resting on Marigold’s arms.
The two made eye contact, her jade eyes glistening with freshly fallen tears, his baby browns just like a puppy dog's. Pralice took much account to this, her carefree sister not so much.
“What’s your patronis, Goldie? When did you master the spell?” Sirius asked just to fill the air with something but also overcome with curiosity.
“When she was twenty… and it’s a dog,” Pralice quipped quickly, seeing her mother hesitate.
The man’s eyebrows raised, and Marigold’s jaw tightened, gulping. Pralice had set the scene, now she just had to exit, that clever girl. Her sister, was much more clueless.
“Reckon we can see those letters before bed?” Pip picked her head up off her mother’s shoulder.
“Later Pippy, let’s go bother Molly for a biscuit,” Pralice broke the hug, pushing her twin towards the house.
Try as she did to protest, the younger eventually caught onto Pralice’s stern emotion and wordless scorns. She gave in and retreated.
Left all alone, the two felt like awkward teenagers again for a moment. The two stood only two feet apart, chest rising and falling with anticipation. Pralice had just revealed that Sirius was Marigold’s patronis and both of the knew it.
“Naughty things, children,” Marigold tried to laugh but had to sniffle the remaining effects of her tears away.
“But yours are perfect,” He returned sincerely.
“They’ve made me laugh every day since they were born,” Marigold ran her free hand through her hair nervously.
“May I?” Sirius asked as he delicately grasped Marigold’s hand with the cooling mug of coffee.
She nodded, mouth agape. He lead her hand to his mouth and took a sip, eye contact maintained mischievously. His brows furrowed as soon as he tasted the warm beverage, the taste all too familiar.
“Coffee with cream and honey? Is this how you often have it?”
“How I’ve had it since I was eighteen.” She gave, blushing. He smirked at her, causing her to shake her head and fight a smile of her own. “Oh don’t start, it’s far more comforting that way.”
“If I return your letters to you, may I request a trade?”
“That depends…”
“Will you show me photographs of the twins’ childhood? I can’t explain it, but I’m dying to know everything about how you raised them,” He admitted, gaining her surprise.
“How so?”
“Well, it’s just amazing, raising them without a father all this time,”
“I think I’ve done just fine on my girls without a man thus far,” Marigold huffed, a bit defensively but mostly jokingly.
“No, wait, you have, you have! …That came out wrong, you’ve done such an impressive job, I’m enchanted by the idea of you raising your children on the beach, teaching them to swim and then to read, that beautiful hillside house with two cribs and your lovely singing!” Sirius recovered enthusiastically.
“We seem to have contradicting options on my singing,” Marigold shook her head fondly. “And there was only one crib, you remember how small those old rooms are,”
“I seem to recall,” Sirius winked boyishly. “Those walls were so near we’d have to stand closer than this it seemed.”
Memories flooded back for the both of them, Sirius taking a step closer to emphasize his point flirtatiously. They couldn’t help themselves around one another, even after two decades. What they had was all-consuming and burned in their veins with passion and longing.
The tension had grown their sixth year, just as it did now. While Remus and Marigold’s making out took place mostly in the comfort of privacy, Sirius was like an exhibitionist. He loved tugging Marigold behind him in the crowded corridors, lips smudged with her lip colors after their in-between class getaways for all of their classmates to note and speculate on.
He took great joy in using their enchanted map to ensure a prefect would find them leaning against the cold stone of Hogwarts’ walls, only to escape just in time. Their laughs would echo through the halls, their feet clamoring as they sprinted, cloaks flowing behind them, faces of bliss and adoration, sporting splitting smiles on swollen lips.
It was always sweet and romantic, however. Sirius was a lover at heart and his kissing style never strayed from that.
Remus, on the other hand, was feral and feverous. Although more selective with his audiences, Remus held much passion and drive in his kissing.
More than once had Marigold gone to check on him in the library while he was studying, only for him to corner her in the farthest and most secluded section of the library. He’d pin her against the dusty books and nip at her till she was all red.
He was also a fan of using the map for his benefit, and by that, one means he ensured none of the other prefects would ever find him holding the girl against a cold stained glass window kissing her under the moonbeams.
It was exhilarating, the duality and balance.