A/N: Hi guys n dolls! This is a random oneshot which came into my mind when trying to do English Coursework (those people who don't know what it is, consider yourselves to be blessed)! Now to stop people from getting confused: This IS an LJ fanfiction! Now read the fanfiction and if you're confused (which you probably wil be...) just ask me and I'll try and sort it out. I would post it here but I can't because it would kind of give it away. I'd also like to know if anyone thinks Sirius Black could be gay. Check out my other two fanfictions if you like LJ ones, one's a school story the other's an AU!! So there we have it ... R&R (heh) :D!
Snowdrops
Some people like roses. Some people like lilies. But me; I like snowdrops. They're so beautiful, with their drooping delicate ivory petals. My mum's favourite flowers were also snowdrops. She loved them. She's dead now.
I had just finished planting this year's snowdrops on our back garden. James was holding Harry on his lap in the kitchen when I walked in wearing my dirty-smeared white dungarees, my hair up in a messy bun. That's when He came. I took Harry up to his cot and tucked him in. His pretty green eyes smiled at me trustingly. Harry was my baby and I wasn't going to let him go easily. I heard a dull thud and didn't need to think to know what it was. That was when I began to think, to back-track on my life and loved ones. There was so much I hadn't done and never will. It was too late.
James. I love him. I can't tell him though. I don't know why. Its just one of those things you can never do. There's a ton of things I can't do. It's not rocket science or anything, but I just can't do it, like: tell James I like him, jump off the diving board when I go swimming, slap people, bad-mouth teachers, not lie, describe myself, ride a broom, skinny-dip, laugh at a mean joke, not say what I think, stroke birds and millions more.
Petunia. She's my only sister. The only one that knows me way to well. She understood what it was like when mum died. Dad just retreated into himself, forgot about us and literally abandoned us. Petunia took care of me then. She was only a year or so older than me then. I was five. Petunia was six or seven. She never complained, even when I whinged and whined. Poor Petunia, she was basically my mum and dad. Once I became a witch, grew up quickly and stopped depending on her she changed. She began hating me. Although I say she began hating me, what I mean is she began hating what I had become. She began to hate my independence. You see, the thing with Petunia is that she loves to play mother and she hates being useless.
Sirius. We have a weird relationship. I know Sirius is still attracted to me. He may laugh off our 'meaningless fling' but we both know deep down that it was so much more than that. Sometimes I feel bad for choosing James over Sirius. James has it all. James was always better off than Sirius in everything. Despite their brotherly love, I knew deep down Sirius was jealous of James. Sometimes I wonder what our baby would've looked like. It would've been a girl, definitely, with his soft, dark, clouds of hair and my jade green eyes, with my delicate little nose and lips, with his sharp, high cheekbones and oval face-shape. She would've been called Kaela Aquila Black; if she'd lived. She died on birth. A miscarriage. That was why we broke up.
Lyra. My arch-enemy. My closest friend. My criticizer. My competitor. Whatever she is, she's my Lyra. The first time we met on the Hogwarts Express, she told me I needed a hair-cut. She was the first person to ever put me down. Soon we became friends. We'd often have arguments as we were both very blunt. We fought over everything. Especially over who got to put the angel on the top of the Christmas Tree. She was never the emotional type so I never really knew a lot about her, but I knew her and that was what mattered. She was the only person who knew about what happened with me and Sirius. Me and Lyra always criticized and complimented each other, but there was one thing that I never told her. She had the prettiest eyes ever. They were dark blue speckled with violet.
Harry. My adorable baby. The boy who lived. Maybe it would be better for him if he were to die. What would be the point in prolonging his life by evoking an ancient magic if only it is to spend his life living with Petunia who would shun him, to grow up alone without love and to finally confront the darkest wizard. Would we never be able to share embarrassing conversations? Would I never be able to see his first steps? Would I never look on proudly when he got married? Would I never be able to spoil my little grandchildren? I'll give him at least a bit of life before he has to bide for himself. My little Harry. I'd die for him.
He was here now, right outside the bedroom door. Harry gave a little gurgle. He opened the door, I saw his twisted, sneering face glaring at me. Telling me to move. I wouldn't. He raised his wand. Uttered those deadly words. It was over. I welcomed death; maybe it would be better than life.
A green light flashed.
I crumpled to the floor.
James always gave me roses.
Sirius gave me snowdrops.
Snowdrops.
Snow. Drops.