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7.17. 11
Blueberry Scone
Lily
marvel, cedar, ice
Princess Lily. She'd grown up hearing it, believing it. She was pretty Lily Potter, the only daughter of the legend himself. She was a burst of sunshine, a breath of fresh air, a slice of something so exquisitely different in a family so large that names and faces blended together in one red blur. She could melt ice with that smile of hers, stop a heart cold with a single wink. She was the one all the boys marveled at when she walked by, the one who kicked up fairy dust into all the other girls' faces, the one who could silence an entire room with a trill of that delicate laugh that sounded like pealing bells and chimes being blown by a cedar breeze, the one who got away with nicking a blueberry scone right off the baking pan at Grandma Molly's while all the others got chastised because she was Princess Lily and she could do no wrong.
She was Lily Potter, the family jewel, the brightest star in the sky. Just watch her glow, watch her shine.