The Smell of Home
infalliblejily
Disclaimer: See, if I did own Harry Potter, then all misconceptions about Snape being good wouldn't exist.
Contrary to popular belief, Lily Evans did not smell like strawberries.
Strawberries were red, with seeds on the outside, and the fruity goodness on the inside. And James Potter had come to the conclusion that Lily Evans was like a strawberry. The things she wanted to share on the outside, still pleasant to eat. The things she only let some people see, feel, hear. The true taste of the strawberry. The true Lily Evans.
Which was why James Potter was in the boy's dorm at 4am, thinking about why Lily didn't smell like strawberries.
But what about the things she did smell like?
The scent of cinnamon, wafting softly through the air as she passes by him on the way to Charms.
Cinnamon suits her, he decides, when he feels safe and warm, wrapped up in the scent.
She smells like the dying fire of the common room, like the embers slowly fading and the heat still present.
Lily is fierce like the fire, except her's never dies.
She smells like peppermint, the small red striped cane in her mouth she claims to be a candy cane.
She wears her sweaters at Christmas, and sings carols on the stairs.
She smells like pine, fallen snow, crushed maple leaves.
He'll never know why she doesn't smell like strawberries.
But either way, she smells like home.
a/n: more jily drabbles! I'm working on a really big multi chap, though. Same writing style as Commentarius by BC Daily, but different story line.PLEASE REVIEW!