It's a game. They compete to see who can make more flowers bloom in a minute. They sit under a Cherry Tree and laugh because they're young. They're just kids, nothing can harm them. Every day, it's the same game, but with different rules.
Then, they aren't kids. They are celebrating their eleventh birthdays under the Cherry tree that has only gotten bigger over the years. Maybe the word slipped, or maybe it didn't. Maybe she won the game too many times, maybe he lost everything. Mudblood. Just a part of the game. He played the card, and now he plays a different game.
You have new friends. She still waves, but you say it again, hoping she'll leave him alone.
Maybe it hurts, but its part of the game. It's the worst part, where no one is winning, but someone has to lose. It's the part where she waves, and you scowl while your friends call her names.
You have new friends. Better friends. Friends with power, friends who don't ask you about your feelings. Even little Bella Black doesn't act like the silly girl you left behind.
The silly girl he fell in love with. The silly girl with the red hair and the green eyes. The kind of green eyes that capture you. The same green eyes that played a silly game with you.
She has new friends, too. But your friends are better. Her friends play pranks, and act like children. Her friends are Gryffindors. Her friends are blood traitors. She loves her friends. She loves him. Potter. She loves Potter. His name is poison in your mouth, and you spit it out when you see them. Maybe you are still a child, maybe it is still a game. Maybe the game had changed. Maybe he has Lily, your Lily, forever. Maybe they have their own game.
Your friends are dangerous, just like their game. You have to play it though, they've taken you in. They've marked you. You can't turn away now. Maybe the game is good verses evil, instead of love verses the game.
That was before you grew up. Now, the game is harder. There are no flowers, there is no Lily. No red hair, no green eyes. Except for his green eyes. And the hair like Potter's. You sit alone every night and drive yourself crazy over a game you used to play. Her game. The game she made up when you were a child; when you were her friend.
The game is over. The two green game pieces are the last things you see. When you open your eyes, you see a Cherry tree, and a woman sitting under it. You see her red hair, and her green eyes; her piercing green eyes. You've lost the game. Or have you won? You've won Lily; youve won the flowers you have missed since you were fifteen. You have won the game; I guess no one has to lose it. But is it really even the same game?