Please see end of chapter for notes.


I. The Bouquet Sisters

Once there were three sisters, as close as any three could be. The eldest sister, who stood with utmost grace and poise, was always quick in social gatherings. She could manipulate any room with ease, and was never short on topics for small talk. The middle sister was a ball of fire and needle sharp wit. She could cut anyone down with a single word; she could just as easily raise them up again. The youngest sister was always the baby and could never quite reach the heights her sisters rose to. She was soft spoken and well mannered; she saw much more than she ever revealed.

The eldest sister was born on a particularly average day. The sun was just the right temperature, and only two clouds hovered over the hospital (just the right shade of white). Her mother pushed for precisely one hour, and gave birth at exactly noon in an orderly fashion. The eldest sister, then an only child, cried the perfect amount in her infancy and, from the start, would smile at anyone who came to visit her. It seemed that she would be the perfect hostess. A name had been picked out months in advanced after a flowering bush her mother was fond of; and so, the eldest sister came to be known as Petunia.

The middle sister was born as the winter frosts were beginning to melt. She was born in the hospital waiting room, having not given her mother enough time to reach a private room. She had a shock of red hair, so different from her older sister's. She cried much more than her sister had, but her beautiful green eyes absorbed the world with the spirit of a grown child. Her name had been planned for three weeks prior to her birth, and was named after the flowers that had adorned her mother's wedding bouquet; and so, the middle sister came to be known as Lily.

The youngest sister was born two weeks premature during the spring equinox. She had been a surprise to her parents with her conception (a mere seven months after Lily's birth). Her mother's labour was quick, and she only pushed for ten minutes. The youngest sister spent the first five minutes of her life in silence. It seemed that she too was surprised that she had been conceived. Her parents had spent nine months frantically trying to decide on a name to no avail. As such, the youngest sister spent three days being called 'Baby Girl Evans' by the thin name tag wrapped around her wrist. She was finally named after the tree her parents shared their first kiss under; and so, the youngest sister came to be known as Holly.

At the ages of three, one, and two weeks respectively, Mrs Evans introduced her daughters to friends and family as "her bunch of flowers". Petunia had scrunched her nose in distaste, Lily had babbled incoherently, and Holly had stared at the bright lights above her head.

Petunia never liked the nickname her mother had given her and her sisters. She thought the word "bunch" sounded far too plain, yet she couldn't think of a better word. It wasn't until her seventh birthday, one hot day in June, that she found a replacement.

She had awoken with a spring in her steps and a song in her heart. She had much to do before her friends arrived, and she couldn't wait until her sisters woke. Petunia always held the best birthday parties out of her whole class, even little Mary Dormer couldn't compete (try as she might). She had donned her beautiful yellow dress, the colour of sunshine, and danced to the kitchen. Her mother had stood in front of the sink, a collection of flowers in her hands as she cut the stems.

"Oh, Petunia!" The older woman had smiled at her daughter. "Happy Birthday, dear!"

Petunia had nodded graciously in thanks, but her gaze never wavered from the flowers.

"Oh, these?" Mrs Evans plopped the flowers into a vase. "Mrs Winters from next door sent them over. Isn't it a beautiful bouquet?"

The question went unanswered as Petunia mulled the word over in her head. "Bouquet" - the word tinkled like church bells. It was perfect, just the right mixture of ordinary and class.

Midway through the birthday celebrations, in the midst of a game of musical chairs, Petunia had secreted her sisters away to the base of a sycamore tree. Sunlight drifted through the gaps in the leaves and dappled across their skin as they unintentionally stood in height order. Petunia stood ramrod straight; the hem of her yellow dress fluttered around her knees. Lily had crossed her arms over her green dress; she looked older than her young years. Holly stared around her, lost in her own little world as she picked at a chocolate stain on her new blue dress.

"Listen," Petunia whispered as she huddled her sisters in closer. "I want to change our names."

Lily scrunched her face in confusion, her lips puckering in thought. "We can't just change our names, Tuney."

"No, silly," Petunia scoffed, "I want to change our nicknames."

"But why?"

"Because I – Holly!" Petunia suddenly snapped, noticing that her youngest sister hadn't been paying the slightest bit of attention. Her gaze softened however when she noticed the frightened look her sister had given her; Holly didn't like being shouted at. "Pay attention. I don't want to be a 'bunch' of flowers; I want to be a 'bouquet' of flowers." She flourished her words with a smirk and a flick of her hair.

"A bouquet," Lily whispered in awe, her tongue twisting on the unfamiliar word and getting the pronunciation wrong; it sounded more like "boo-key". Holly never said a word.

"Do we all agree?" Petunia always copied the words she heard adults saying, trying to make herself sound more mature.

Lily nodded and outstretched her hand, palm face down. Petunia smiled, and her entire face lit up with happiness as she placed her hand on top of her sister's.

"Holly," Lily prompted, when the youngest failed to respond.

Holly's face twisted in curiosity at the strange action her sisters' were making but copied them nonetheless, her little hand landing on top of Petunia's.

"The bouquet sisters," Petunia smiled.

"Together forever," Lily continued.

"And nothing is ever going to tear us apart."

That was the day the 'Bouquet Sisters' were born, in an amalgamation of yellow and green and blue.

Petunia, whose heart would one day fill with bitterness, was the first to pull away. Lily, who would one day give her life for love, was the second to remove her hand. Holly, who would one day give up everything she ever held dear, was left with her hand hovering in the vacant air.


Notes;

Hope you enjoyed it, and thank you for reading.

Please feel free to leave some feedback, or head over to 'all that purple prose. tumblr. com' (without the spaces) to let me know what you think.

This work is also available on ArchiveofOurOwn under the pen name TheCourageOfStars.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters other than my own. All rights go to the respective owners.

Side note: I plan for this story to follow the three sisters throughout both the marauders era and the golden trio era so this is going to be a long one! Also, this is a relatively short chapter as it is a prologue of sorts, so the following chapters will be longer.