Lily Potter knows what love is, and it isn't pretty.
It's that twinge, the shooting lightning bolt of pain that runs through her chest and hits her spine every time he kisses her. It's her hair dripping with the rain that was more comforting that the worried stares of her family. It's the soft woody old-books smell of the broomshed she's hiding in. (You count to ten Teddy, I'll hide!)
But it's been sosolong since the days of hide-and-seek and stuffed dragons, red piggy tails and dusty freckles, when her world ended at the gate of the Potter manor and Hogwarts would come when she's older. Then, he was everything. King of the castle in her own little world.
(not much has changed, lilydear)
And why should she go back out there to the cold world of worried looks and stolen hearts when it's so very nice and warm in here?
In fact, why should she ever go back? Why not just chase the warmth, because it might (justmaybe) melt the ice in her bones?
With that thought, she dissaperates, and it's no more Weasley dinners, but stew around a fire.
No more Houses (Look at the Slytherin Potter, what a traitor ) because in Romania no one cares. And Charlie gets it, knows what it's like to not quite fit in that family. And now love is dragon wings and shiny burns that turn into trophies. It's the one dragon with the opal eyes that only calms for her and it's not a bad life.
Lily Potter knows what love is, but then again, maybe not. Because maybe it's really seeing him appear at the gates, because even after everyone else gave up on you he didn't. And maybe it's cheesey, and storybook endings don't really happen, but for one shining summer moment, it's simply Teddy.
Meh. It's alright. Let me know what you think. Still not Rowling.