AN: All recognisable characters belong to J.K. Rowling.


"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."

- William Congreve, The Mourning Bride


She'd been keeping tabs on the rose on her desk. Usually, she didn't even notice it, just sitting there. But then again, usually the rose was a strong, vibrant red. Lately, it was starting to turn brown. She wouldn't have felt any surprise; after all, it'd been sitting on her desk for a couple of years now.

But this rose was no ordinary rose.

It'd been a gift from her friend, Mary McDonald, when they'd graduated from Hogwarts. Lily had felt honoured when presented with the gift. She placed it where she could always see it. After all, it was useful and a beautiful piece of magic.

When she'd been at Yvellines Wizarding University, the rose had stood on her vanity cabinet, a beautiful splash of colour. She had taken it with her when she moved back to England to work at the Ministry.

And the rose had stood there on her desk, tantamount to her relationship with James Potter.

But now, it was starting to wilt, and Lily became anxious. The rose never lied.

So it was with both trepidation and suspicion that she answer his Floo-connection. His face as he greeted her was the same as always: bright, trusting.

"Lily, love," he said. "Did you want to go out for dinner tonight? I heard there was a new restaurant in Diagon Alley."

She smiled a little, her heart lifting. She was being an idiot. Of course James still loved her; the rose's magic was just starting to fade. Her smile widened as she answered him.

"Sure, meet you there at seven?"

He grinned back, before winking and saying, "I'll see you there, love."

...

Black rose, your thorns are cutting into me

...

She'd always been meticulous. If she had to admit, she was very excited, too. Tonight would have been their first date since they came back to England. She knew she'd been spending too much time focused on work, and not enough time with him.

She was happy at the chance to renew their relationship.

She decided to do some shopping—she was there anyway, and she needed new quills and parchment. It had been a long day at work; she could do with some retail therapy.

She was just paying for the new quills at Florish and Blott's, when she asked the shopkeeper about the new restaurant. He looked at her strangely, and replied there was no restaurant in Diagon Alley, mostly because of the Leaky Cauldron's reputation.

That was when she started to feel suspicious again. She thanked the man, and headed out. She walked up and down the familiar length of cobbled street, looking for a new restaurant. The shopkeeper had been right. There were no other restaurants on Diagon Alley, save Florean Fortescue's Sundae Parlor, and she was sure he'd been there since before she was born.

There was something going on, and she didn't like it.

...

Black rose, I watched your petals wilt away

...

She was more than nervous when she stepped into their flat. Her trepidation was threatening to engulf her, swallow her whole.

It felt like her heart died when she was the sparkly red stilettos on the coffee table.

She already knew what to expect, so it didn't really shock her to hear them in the bedroom. What did shock her was the rage that coursed through her entire body. She'd always thought herself a calm, collected, rational person, but as she stood there, understanding that she had just caught her other half with another woman, she lost her hold on sanity.

She blasted the door open with a Bombarda, and the couple inside squealed and collapsed onto each other. She stood in the doorway, her red hair glowing brilliantly.

"You prick, James Potter," she ground out in a soft, angry yet hurting voice. Hot tears dropped on her cheeks.

She wheeled around, her hair billowing, and took a step away from the door. She turned back to face them one last time, fury dancing in her eyes.

"Crucio!" she shrieked, her emerald eyes glinting madly.

James Potter writhed and yelled as fire licked his bones; the fire that was in her eyes. She lowered her wand after a whole minute—the longest minute of his life.

"You haven't changed, Potter," she hissed. "Sev was right about you all along."

Tears continued their course down her face.

"You deserved every second of pain," she continued. "You deserve all of it and more."

She turned again, not paying a lick of attention to the petrified girl under the covers. Lily had had enough. She just wanted to get out, forget this whole thing, forget James Potter.

...

I couldn't bring you back to life

...

.

.

.


AN:

Written for the infamous dollface's Most Unforgivable Challenge.

Black Rose by Trapt

It was a bit hard writing James Potter as a prick. Golly, I always loved their ship, but I wanted the betrayal to feel a bit believable (Sev would never leave Lily, but James had the possibility because he was a bit of a player before).

Review your thoughts and opinions. Please try not to flame.