My Lily Flower

School: Beauxbatons

Theme: Muggle AU – Floral theme

Year: 4

Main Prompt: [Colour] Green

Additional Prompts: [Action] Watching someone from afar, [Description] Hate-filled gaze

Word Count: 3035

"Come on, Sev, are you really going to stay out here in the cold just because flower shops are too girly for you?"

She's only teasing, and I know that, but it feels like she's taunting me.

I've known Lily for nearly eight years now. She's my best friend; my only friend; the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and I would do anything for her. Anything. Except set foot into a sissy flower shop.

If my father finds out that I've been within ten feet of this place, I can already predict how unpleasant my evening will be: a lot of shouting, swearing, name-calling, maybe more, maybe worse. It depends on how drunk he gets. So I'm going to nip that possibility in the bud here and now.

Obviously, it won't be enough. It never is. He'll just find another reason to hurl insults at me over a green bottle, but I won't make it any easier for him.

"I'd rather stay out here than go in there," I say, my voice muffled by my threadbare scarf and old coat. I've got the collar turned up to give myself as much cover from the biting cold of the wind as I can get, but it doesn't do much good. The only thing that's keeping my teeth from chattering is sheer willpower.

"Why?" she asks, and an edge of irritation creeps into her voice.

I always do this. Lily is the one good thing in my life, yet I seem intent on ruining it. I can't let her be happy or excited about anything, and I don't know why. I do know, however, that no matter how patient and kind she is, she has limits, and if I keep constantly toeing that line, she might decide I'm more trouble than I'm worth. I'm painfully aware of this, but like a freight train that's had its brakes messed with, I don't know how to stop.

"I told you, flower shops are girly."

She narrows her eyes, and her hands go to her hips, that sharp temper of hers brimming just beneath the surface. I've done it now.

"What's wrong with girly?"

I walked right into that one. Now I'm on thin ice and back-pedalling madly to get back to solid ground. "Nothing," I blurt out quickly.

"So why won't you go into the shop?"

My mind flounders for a suitable answer, hopefully, one that might appease her, but as I stammer through my response, I know that it's a lame attempt at best, "It's the flowers, they're useless, they don't do anything, and it's a clichéd, overdone gift."

Her pretty green eyes narrow further, turning into a full-on glare. "You thought 'clichéd and useless,' and your first reaction was to describe it as girly."

I really put my foot into my mouth there.

Freezing like a deer in the headlights, my mouth opens and closes soundlessly as I desperately think of a way to win back some ground. She's still glowering, and she looks about ready to leave me standing there like an idiot when my brain finally kick-starts.

"I didn't mean it like that," I say hurriedly. "I just don't like flower shops; that's all."

It isn't enough. She doesn't smile understandably or make a joke; she doesn't even stop glaring at me with those beautiful green eyes that I love so much. "Fine, stay out here then."

She spins and flounces into the shop, and I scuff my worn shoes roughly against the pavement. I really am an idiot, but I never know what to say to her anymore. It was simpler when we were kids; before I realized how much I love her. Now I over-analyse every moment I spend with her; hoping, praying, that one day she'll return my affection, and then we can be truly happy together. I would make her happy, happier than she's ever been before. There would be no more awkwardness, and I would always know what to do and say, and I would make her smile every day for the rest of our lives.

That's the fantasy.

This is the reality: me, standing outside in the bitter cold, berating myself for not being a better friend while Lily gets further and further away from my grasp.

But just because she isn't within arm's reach, doesn't mean I can't keep her safe by watching over her.

The shop is a squat building, with depth but no height to speak of, and it's outside walls are painted the most obnoxious shade of green you can imagine, standing out like a sore thumb among its bland and sensible neighbours. The large display window is cluttered with pots and vases filled with flowers and houseplants, and I have to stretch my neck to see over the damn things.

Within the shop, I catch a flash of red hair, and I hone in on it with practised ease.

This is something that I do so often that I've gotten remarkably good at it: watching her from afar. It isn't stalking, no matter what some people might think. With stalking there's an intent to cause harm; that's the exact opposite of what I want for Lily. I'm protecting her from harm; I would never hurt her myself, I love her too much.

I started doing this before she'd even learned my name. I saw her around at school, and her smile drew me to her. I knew then and there that she wasn't like the others. She was special, like me; an outsider, like me. She just did a more convincing job at fitting in.

I didn't approach her straight away; I had to be sure. So I took to following her from afar, and what I saw confirmed my suspicions. Her best friend was her sister, and even at the young age of nine, I knew that Petunia wasn't good enough for her. Lily had plenty of other friends at school, but none of them really knew her, not as I did, and I realized that she needed me as much as I needed her.

I spent months watching her from afar. It's how we officially met, actually. She was playing in the park with that awful sister of hers, and I was hiding in an overgrown bush, watching over her. Then her sister said something mean and ran off, leaving Lily all alone, several streets away from their home. It was the perfect opportunity for me to introduce myself. My plan worked wonderfully, and we became the best of friends from that point on.

I never stopped keeping her safe, though. Whenever she goes out with her other friends, the shallow ones who have never liked me, I'm always somewhere nearby, in case something happens to her. What I do isn't wrong. If I were tall and handsome people would call it romantic. Just because I'm neither shouldn't make it creepy. Regardless, I do try to be discreet, not because of what anyone else might think, but because if Lily were to catch me doing this, however innocent and pure my intentions are, she wouldn't be happy.

I catch sight of Lily again through the store window, and I tense when I realize she's talking to someone – a male someone – and suddenly she throws her head back in a full-bodied laugh that I haven't seen her do in a long time.

Sensing danger, I rush into the shop, despite my aversion. Lily's more important. The sudden temperature change nearly knocks me off my feet. It's far too hot after the cold from outside, and it's almost unbearably humid. It feels like stepping into a tropical rainforest, or at least what I imagine a tropical rainforest feels like. It looks like one too, with plants and flowers covering every shelf, most of the floor and even hanging from the ceiling. There's an overabundance of green littered with splashes of colour from the flowers that are too bright and too cheerful. To wrap up the illusion of an exotic forest, there are strategically placed little fountains that add the tinkling of running water to the ambience, and speakers set up to play the sounds of birds chirping.

I only take a moment to sneer at the décor before trying to make my way through the maze of vegetation. I finally spot Lily, her red hair fitting in perfectly with the vibrant plants and flowers. There's tall bookshelf's worth of pots and vases between her and me, and I stay there, hidden from view, peaking around the various urns to get a closer look.

I can't make out what they're saying, but from my new vantage point, I can see the stranger who's making her laugh so heartily – a shopkeeper. I shift slightly behind the shelves of houseplants until I can get a good look at the guy. I don't like what I see.

He's young – he can't be much older than Lily and I – and handsome, oozing the kind of confidence that I've learned to be wary of from an early age. He holds himself like the head jock of a high school, the star quarterback in all those American teen movies that Lily used to like, the smarmy git who thinks that he's God's gift to this green Earth. He's tall and well-built, probably weighing a good fifty pounds more than me, all in muscle, all on display beneath a t-shirt too tight to be suitable work attire.

I hate him. Not just because his looks and aura are polar opposites to my own, but also because of the way he's looking at Lily. He's grinning at her; running his hand through his already messy hair and messing it up further.

They're standing too close, it's unprofessional, and I wonder if I should call out the manager and put in a complaint.

I don't do that, mainly because I'm not sure where to find a manager, and I don't want to embarrass Lily. Plus, I really shouldn't leave her alone with this stranger. It wouldn't be safe. So instead, I leave my hiding place, edging around stacks of large ceramic pots and zeroing in on them so that the guy knows that Lily isn't here alone and that he'd better not take advantage.

Lily spots me as soon as I round the corner. She grins, and I all but sag with relief. It's alright; she isn't mad at me anymore, I've been forgiven. She always forgives me, and I love her for it. She looks magnificent in here, the stuffy air bringing colour back to her cheeks and the green surroundings bringing out the colour of her eyes. She looks much better than she did in the stark, cold, wasteland outside.

"Sev," she says brightly. "This is James."

I'd already noticed his name tag, the yellow standing out brightly against his green apron. But what catches my attention is the way her hand brushes his arm as she speaks. It's far too casual and familiar, and I tense as she does it, glaring at this stranger who's prayed on Lily's natural kindness to charm her.

"Hi," says James, sticking his hand out in front of him.

I consider not taking it; I certainly don't want to. But even as I hesitate, I can see Lily watching me; her grin faltering at my rudeness. So I give in and shake the proffered hand; his darker skin and healthy tan clashing horribly against my own pale colouring.

I tried to get a tan once, about two years ago, after Lily mentioned how good one of the boys in our year looked after a month-long holiday in Spain. It didn't end well. I forwent sunscreen, hoping that it would improve my chances of getting a healthy sun-kissed look — no such luck. I burned, and my skin remained lobster red for a whole week, and my classmates delighted in slapping me hard on the shoulders whenever they passed me in the halls. After all that, my skin had jumped straight back from angry red to sickly white.

James's grip is firm, and I recognize the implicit challenge. It's a primal display of dominance, uncivilised to say the least, but I will not let this ape think that he's winning. He doesn't even flinch as I clench his hand as firmly as I can. In fact, he has the nerve to laugh. It's a rich, booming sound, loud and disruptive.

"That's quite a grip you've got there," he says jovially, with one final squeeze.

My hand aches when he releases it, but he's still grinning like a simpleton; vibrant and thrumming with energy. His eyes are dark, like mine, but his are brighter, livelier.

Lily starts speaking, drawing my attention away from the moron, "James was just telling me that he started working here after reading a bunch of meet-cute stories that made him realize that his best chance of meeting his soulmate was either by working at a florist's or at a coffee shop."

"And I don't like coffee, so the choice was easily made," James adds cheerily.

I wait until Lily's distracted by a display of roses before I let myself sneer. This guy reads romances and works at a flower shop? Maybe he isn't as much of a threat as I'd initially thought.

"So you like flowers then?" I ask, and he's too dimwitted to realize that he's being mocked.

"I love flowers," he gushes. "They're beautiful and colourful, and they smell great. They're brilliant for decorating, adding a cheerful vibe to any house. And each flower has its own meaning; you could have an entire conversation with them and not speak a single word."

"Sev thinks that they're emasculating," Lily pipes in.

James laughs. This git is always laughing, and it's grating; no one should be this happy. "My masculinity isn't affected by me liking pretty things." He glances at Lily as he says it and winks, making her blush.

I feel the hate growing within me, oozing out of me, and I glower at James, but neither he nor Lily notice, both too caught up in each other.

"So what can I do for you?" James asks once he's done ogling my best friend.

"A Mother's Day bouquet, if you could," says Lily.

"Of course, do you have a fixed idea on what flowers you'd like in it?"

"My one requirement is that there be petunias and lilies after my sister and me."

"Your name's Lily?" He guesses right away. It isn't difficult, she doesn't look like a Petunia, but when she nods, he looks very pleased with himself. "That's pretty. Lilies can represent virtue, friendship, devotion, elegance, beauty… It suits you."

He leads them over to a workbench, painted the same shade of green as the outside of the building. It feels like the decorators had an obsession with the damn colour. Maybe they were hoping it would be symbolic of nature, rather than making the whole place look like a complete eyesore. He takes out a vase and starts nimbly cutting and arranging flowers as he and Lily chat. I don't listen; I'm too busy scowling. I'm amazed my hate-filled gaze hasn't drawn his attention yet, but he's clearly too stupid and unobservant to see it.

I notice that James's eyes aren't that dark after all. The excessive amount of green surrounding us brings out the colour in his eyes, and they become hazel in the light, and I hate them for being a more exciting colour than my own dull black ones.

James finishes up the bouquet and Lily gushes over it. Personally, I don't see what's so great about it; it's just a bunch of dead flowers.

"Can I get you anything?" he asks me.

I don't reply, but Lily takes the opportunity to start up yesterday's argument again, "Come on, Sev, I bet your mum would love it if you got her flowers." Before I can argue the matter, she's turned back to James. "Do you buy your mum flowers?"

"Of course, I bring her one home after work every day because they make her so happy."

I don't like the way Lily's looking at him. It's far too sappy and degrading.

"I'll get my mum a bouquet," I say hurriedly, snapping them out of their gooey staring contest.

After a dismissive 'whatever' when James asks me what flowers I want, he gets to it, picking a green vase this time and I'm getting sick of that colour. Even Lily has managed to tear her eyes away from James long enough to realize that it's everywhere.

"There's a lot of green around here," she says, and she sounds almost impressed.

James nods. "Yeah, it's the owner's favourite colour."

"It's mine too."

"I wasn't sold on it," he says thoughtfully. "It becomes a bit much when I have to see it all the time, but after seeing your eyes, I could be convinced to give it a second chance."

Lily blushes again and smiles, and I feel invisible.

James brings both bouquets over to the till and rings up the price. He gives me my receipt without any further fuss, but with Lily's, he flips over the flimsy paper and writes his phone number on the back.

"In case you want to make my soulmate meet-cute fantasy come true," he says as he hands it to her.

Lily takes it, her hand brushing James's as she does, and the touch lasts a bit too long for my taste. Then she reverently folds it into her purse, not scrunching it up and dumping it in her bag like she usually does with receipts. She thanks him with a smile that I've never seen on her before.

"It's a nice shop," she says to me as we walk out.

I manage a stiff nod, but truthfully, I hate this shop as I have never hated another place before, I loathe that shopkeeper as I have never loathed another human being before, and I wish more than anything that Lily had never stepped foot into this awful flower shop.