Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, unfortunately.
~~~This is Dedicated to Si, because she's really awesome and a great friend. And I don't think I would have ever done half the things I've done in the past year without her being an amazing friend. Thank you, Si.~~~
In first year, if you asked him what his favorite flower was, he'd shrug it off and quietly say he thought lilies were pretty. He'd glance up with his hazel eyes, pushing his glasses up on his nose that wasn't yet crooked from being broken so many times. His messy black hair was in all different directions, but this was before he cared about trying to smooth it down. He sat with his friends every morning at breakfast, every noon at lunch, every evening at dinner, and every time in between. He was loyal, and you could see that he cared about his friends as though they were his own kin, just eleven years old.
No matter where his friends went, you watched as he lead the pack with that stupid grin on his face. He was loud, and obnoxious, and arrogant, and you hated it. Or did you? You watched carefully as one of his friends got sick every month and he snuck in sweets to the hospital wing and waited with his friend during his free time. You saw him laugh along with his mates, acting as if there weren't a care in the world.
At eleven years old, he hadn't a clue what a lily flower looked like. And you couldn't believe it would be his favorite flower if he did.
In second year, if you asked him what his favorite flower was, he'd quickly glance in your direction and tell you he thought lilies were perfect. You were there for the first time he tried out for Quidditch, and you were there when everyone was in shock at what an amazing chaser he could be. You watched carefully as he was made a member of the team almost instantly, flashing that stupid grin in your direction. You hated that grin. Or did you?
You were there for his first match, against Slytherin of course, when he got hit in the face with a bludger and broke his nose for the first time. He was quickly healed after he won the match for your team, and you stood in the stands trying to hide the smile on your face as the rest of the school cheered his name. You couldn't help but notice his nose was just slightly more crooked than it was before. You were there at the celebratory party, in his honor that night. You saw him grinning at you from across the room, but you scowled and shoved your nose in your book. You waited until you were sure he wasn't looking at you to watch him. But when wasn't he looking at you?
At twelve years old, you doubted he had ever seen a lily flower. And you refused to believe it was his favorite flower.
In third year, if you asked him what his favorite flower was, he throw a smirk in your direction and tell you he thought lilies were beautiful. He saved that smirk for you, you noticed. It was the first year you were allowed into Hogsmeade, and all the girls were swooning over him and his friends. You remember the butterflies in your stomach when you sat down at breakfast to find a lily flower laying across your plate with a note in messy handwriting that read "Go to Hogsmeade with me, Evans?" You turned him down of course, stupid James Potter and his stupid game. That's all you were to him, a game. You remember pushing the flower and note to the side and scooping some eggs onto your plate. You remember the half smile he gave reassuringly to his friends, he remembers his first heartbreak.
You remember when you walked into Hogsmeade with your friends for the first time, and you all wanted to go get butterbeers from The Three Broomsticks. You remember walking in and seeing him snuggled up in a booth with Rosie Carpenter, and you remember that they were way too close. You remember the way it felt, how angry you were when you screamed at him and threatened to hex him into next oblivion. You hardly remember how confused he looked when he tried to calmly explain that you rejected him so he had a right to find another date. You remember telling him that you were not jealous, you also remember being extremely jealous as you stormed out of the pub and off to who knows where. He remembers asking Rosie Carpenter out just to make you jealous.
You remember watching him every month as he snuck off from the common room with his friends. And you remember not telling on them as they did.
At thirteen years old, he had finally seen a lily flower. But you still doubted it was his favorite flower.
In fourth year, if you asked him what his favorite flower was, he'd look into your eyes and say he thought lilies were the best thing to be put on the Earth. You remember calling him out on his bullshit countless times. He asked you out more times than you can count, and you remember telling everyone how tired you were of his games. You remember that was the first Christmas that you stayed at school. And you remember how he hastily put his name on the list right after you, telling you some story that his parents were off in Australia for a mission, and he needed to stay. You remember Remus told you he didn't want you to spend Christmas alone, especially since you were the only one in your year staying. You remember blushing profusely and waving it off, mumbling something about your potions essay that had to be done, even though you distinctly remember finishing it last week. So did Remus, since you worked on them together; you remember now.
You remember walking down into the common room on Christmas Eve, half past eleven. You saw his messy black hair sticking up in every direction from the couch in front of the fire, and you remember smiling to yourself as you sat down next to him. "James," you said politely, nodding in his direction. You remember worrying that his face would break if he smiled any wider as he replied with "Lily." You remember thanking him for staying with you as you passed him a carefully wrapped present. He looked at you in shock and you insisted he take it, blushing to yourself and hoping he would just think it was the fire reflection on your cheeks. He smiled at you and nodded, handing you a small box that you could tell he spent quite sometime wrapping. You remember not saying anything about the wrinkled edges as you carefully unwrapped the paper, not wanting to tear it. You remember how quickly he tore into your present, his jaw dropping at the framed photo of you and him being civil as he helped you with your Transfiguration homework. You watched for a moment as you both laughed over something he said in the photograph. Then your jaw dropped at the sight of the emerald earrings that he had just given you. You remember your exact words, "James, I can't accept these... they're beautiful, but they're too expensive... And I just got you an old photo..." You remember he cut you off and said, "Lily, you have to accept it, it's Christmas. And besides, your present is worth more than a million galleons to me. I love it."
You remember he leaned over and kissed your cheek, quickly jumping back and apologizing, afraid you would hex him. You remember blushing and touching a hand to your cheek, smiling at him shyly. Then you remember doing the unthinkable, kissing James Potter in the common room as the clock struck twelve. "Merry Christmas, James." You whispered, before running up to your room to think about it. You remember that was your first kiss. He remembers that being the first kiss he cared about. You remember going back to "Potter" and "Evans" when everyone came back. He remembers how you didn't take your earrings off for the next three years. You remember that he never told anyone, not even his friends about that kiss.
At fourteen years old, he was head over heels for his Lily. But you still didn't believe it was his favorite flower.
In fifth year, if you asked him what his favorite flower was, he would confidently grin at you and say he knew lilies were flawless. You remember him being an arrogant toe rag, doing anything to get your attention. You remember not giving him the time of day. He was immature and insensitive you told yourself repeatedly, but you remember always thinking back to Christmas the year before. Then you remember what happened that day by the lake. The day you were called a Mudblood and the day you lost your best friend. You remember it was all because of him, stupid, arrogant, Potter. But you remember how furious he was that Snape called you what he did, and you remember how sorry he was that he caused it all.
You remember saying to him that you'd rather date the giant squid than him. And you remember watching his heart break through his eyes as he laughed it off with his friends. But you remember the face he made when he thought no one was looking. You remember that was the last time he asked you out that year. And you remember that your heart couldn't help but break a little with his.
At fifteen years old, he knew how heart breaking lilies could be. And you hadn't a doubt that they weren't his favorite flower anymore.
In sixth year, if you asked him what his favorite flower was, he would glance over at you and say that lilies would always be his favorite. You remember looking at him differently this year. He hadn't even tried to ask you out, and you remember feeling a little disappointed that he had stopped. You remember noticing that he had grown up; he had minimized his pranking, helped out the younger students with their homework, and you very much remember that he stopped asking you out. You noticed his boyish features turned into grown ones: his crooked nose fit his square jaw line, he had grown into his odd thin body and now you noticed his muscles through his folded up sleeves, you were fairly sure he had a good set of abs hiding behind his shirt, but his messy black hair still stuck up in every direction. You remember liking it as he would run his hand through it out of habit.
You remember the feeling in your stomach when you realized you were in love with James Potter and had to do something about it. You remember proposing to be friends. You remember his face heated up and he ran a hand through his hair nervously as he told you he would love to be your friend. You remember smiling at him and patting his arm, saying "See you later, James." as you made your way to the Great Hall for lunch. You remember the confused smile on his face you got a glimpse of as you rounded the corner.
At sixteen years old, he still cared dearly for lilies. And you had a glimmer of hope that they were his favorite flower once again.
In seventh year, if you asked him what his favorite flower was, he would nudge you on the shoulder and tell you that lilies were gorgeous with that silly grin of his that he saved just for you. You remember getting an owl from him shortly after you received your letters, stating that he became Head Boy and congratulating you on being Head Girl. You remember he wrote "everyone knows it's you, Lils, there's no one better for the job." You remember laughing happily as you put the letter with your things to pack, it was something you thought you should save. You remember the first time you walked in the bathroom half asleep and he had just gotten out of the shower. You remember screaming out of shock and apologizing as your face heated up. But your eyes couldn't help but wander up and down his chiseled torso, you guessed it was from Quidditch, down to the tip of his towel wrapped loosely around his hips. You remember that smirk that he saved just for you as he said "something caught your eye, Evans?" You remember blushing and backing out of the room at that point, and always remembering to knock first.
That was a month before you finally started dating. Lily Evans and James Potter, everyone knew it was meant to be. You remember that your dorm hardly got any use, since you pretty much moved in with him. And your patrols turned into heated snogs in empty classrooms and broom cupboards. You remember that even though you were in the middle of a war, you felt completely safe with his arm wrapped around you.
At seventeen years old, he knew he wanted lilies at his wedding. And you finally realized that they were in fact his favorite flower.
On your wedding day, if you asked him what his favorite flower was, he would say without a doubt that lilies were the flower for him. But it wasn't really about lily flowers anymore, in fact, it never had been. It was always about you, his Lily. You remember how he grinned widely as you walked down the isle and how you couldn't keep in time to the "Here Comes the Bride" song because you just wanted to get next to him. You remember how the crowd of guests laughed as you half ran down the isle into his arms and the pastor cleared his throat so you would take your position. You remember his mates's speeches at dinner, and how red-faced you got when each of them thought it would be appropriate to discuss various places you snuck off to snog at Hogwarts. You remember it was the best day of your lives and you were finally where you belonged.
During the birth of your son, you asked him what his favorite flower was, just to be reassured. He smiled and held your hand, telling you calmly that lilies were strong and he was so proud. You remember how happy you were when he came out healthy. You remember the grin on his face when you told him your idea for a name. "Harry James Potter, do you like it?" You asked him quietly as your little baby slept in your arms. "I love it." You remember him saying as a tear escaped his eye and he swore up and down he just had something in it. You remember crying that night because Harry was trapped inside his home until the war was over, and there wasn't a thing either of you could do about it. You remember him holding you closely and telling you that everything would be alight.
A year later, on Halloween to be exact, he was reminding you of his favorite flowers, lilies of course, when you heard a crash downstairs. You remember his face went pale as he said the words "Lily, he's here. Take Harry and go. I'll hold him off." You remember tears stung your eyes and screams burned your throat as you watched your husband walk out your bedroom door without his wand. You remember running out after him and catching a green light and him bravely falling to the ground in attempt you protect his family. Your family. You screamed his name as you ran inside Harry's room, trying to put on a happy face. "Mummy loves you, Harry. Daddy loves you. We love you so much. Be safe. Be strong. Be brave. We love you, Harry." you whispered to your son. The door is thrown open and you protectively stand in front of the baby after placing a final kiss on his forehead, begging to die instead of Harry. The Dark Lord laughed and called you a fool.
With a flash of green light, the last thing you remember is that James Potter's favorite flower was always a Lily.
Author's Note: So I had this idea a few days ago, and I decided to write it. I hope you all like it... I cried while writing it... Reviews please! :)