A beautiful flower
By Danielle
Summary:
'I mourned for my flower, my light and yet I was angry.'
Rating: K
Genre: Sad
I had always loved her.
Her eyes were not emerald green, but the green of dew laden grass, the green of a fresh brewed elixir. She poisoned my mind, or so my parents said. Not the type to shy away from expressing thought, a trait shown through her fiery locks.
My family of course did not approve, watching from the shadows, as I watched her from the bushes outside the playground. He thought I did not know, but I did, I saw within her something so much more than just a witch. She was everything.
When I approached her, that first time, with the courage of a gryffindor, I remember those exact words we exchanged. Although her sisters words marred our encounter, I knew that this girl was closer now than ever. I looked down at my feet and saw the flower and recognised it as the one she had practiced upon, I pocketed it.
Years later I remember, our friendship had bloomed. However, I remember the hurt look in her eyes, her sisters words driving a sword into her heart. I asked myself that day, at kings cross station, whether I was a freak, a dirty wizard, although upon stating these words to my mother, I received nothing more than a tug of the ear and a push towards the train.
The day my life began a descent into despair, was one I sadly recall. I still do not remember why I felt certain that this beautiful work of art, would enter the house of the Snakes. She did not, and from that moment we fell apart and my life became worthless. A snake and a lion could never be united, not truely.
We tried and we were best friends. That day in fifth year, I apologised. I tried everything to restore the friendship we once held, but it was impossible. I think I knew deep down that I could never be forgiven, for uttering that single word. One single word, led my life to change completely and for the rest of my life and even today I resent myself and my cowardly life.
That day, when I told Dumbledore of my feelings, I felt more free than I had since I was born and yet, also more constricted than I had ever felt. I mourned for my flower, my light and yet I was angry. Why should it be that a boy could live on, whilst the love of my life could perish?
My anger however, did not remain.
The first day I spoke to him I knew.
Her son, the boy who lived. I looked into his eyes and saw that same, green, staring back at me. It was too much for me to bare, this boy was unmistakenly one born to her, but was likely nothing like her. He could not be like my flower.
I asked him those three questions, questions I knew he would never be able to answer. In his reply, in that moment, I saw her again. My flower, telling our potion master that she did not know, speaking out where others would not have dared.
That day, I took points from Gryffindor house.
I gave him my memories, those memories of my flower shall live on.
I watch Lily, quietly as her brothers play on the swings, the flower in her hand slowly opening and closing its petals.
A beautiful flower.