Title: Where the Flowers Bloom
Pairing: James/Lily, Severus/Lily | Lily's POV for the most part
Rating: R
Word Count: 6,883
Summary: The psychedelic summer of 1967 was more than just free love, protests, and Sgt. Pepper. It was more than just R-E-S-P-E-C-T, draft card burning, and "turned on" consciousness in the streets of San Francisco. For Lily Evans, that madcap summer was an escape.
Warning: AU, drug use, sexuality, language, damn dirty hippies, and overt 60s references and slang you may want to look up. Oh, and they're American, if that wasn't obvious already).
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own HP.
A/N: It's been about seven months but I FINALLY finished this chapter. School got in the way a lot as well as a general lack of inspiration but I'm a lot more focused now so expect more frequent updates. Er, God willing. And thanks to lavinialavender and yemeron for betaing this for me To see photos from this chapter and the others, visit Accio_Salmon LJ, which is linked in my profile! Oh, and about my other WIP...well, I have another chapter done that I must find on another computer but otherwise, I don't know when or if I'll finish it. It's been ages and I'm still thinking about it. My writing style has changed so much since then and I started The Long and Winding Road when I was 14...I'll probably still do some more with it eventually but don't expect any updates anytime soon, I'll tell you that flat out. But I REALLY hope you all enjoy this!


Lily's nose was burrowed in the crook of her drool-slathered elbow and her throat was sore. Her body rested on her right hand all night, leaving it numb and painful as she tried to make a fist. With a turn of her head, she was startled to see none other than Rosier's sleeping form next to her own.

She stared at his nose, examining the gentle motions of his nostrils as he breathed in and out, the guttural, wet noises coming from his throat, and the bobbing of his Adam's apple. As surprising as the sight was, she felt a surge of human connectivity towards him: the bastard was just like everyone else as he slept, as he had no audience to harass, no women to offend, no pants to strangle his privates. He was human despite acting like a Neanderthal when conscious.

She crawled out of her sleeping bag and was met with flat, unremarkable grayness. People were lounging in warm cars and vans or huddling in their sleeping bags, avoiding the frigid air. The grounds were sleepy, quiet with whispers and rare trickles of loud laughter, the explosive sounds of guitars and applause dormant until the sun came out.

"He moves a lot in his sleep." Severus was up, already dressed, and, of course, had a cigarette in his hand; strong, unfiltered Marlboro bobbing between his fingers. A crumbled piece of paper and a pen lay in front of him next to a book Lily was unable to decipher the title of. He looked vulnerable in the dark, grey light and tapped his foot while he smoked impatiently, as though trying to achieve something with each hurried exhale. His unkempt hair didn't ease his complexion.

"Evan?" she asked, straightening out her gravelly, stinging throat. She already knew the answer.

"But it was amusing watching the two of you drooling all over each other."

Lily rubbed the dried saliva from the corner of her mouth with the heel of her hand, smearing the faint rouge of yesterday's lipstick along with it.

"Well it wasn't exactly amusing waking up to," Lily admitted. "What time is it?"

"Nine thirteen," Severus said, glancing at his watch with the sad, weathered brown wrist band. "Counting down the hours until you're back with the merry band of idiots?"

"I don't know when or if I'll see them at all," Lily said as she searched through her large bag for a brush. Severus snorted.

"I'm sure Potter'll find some way to find you," he sneered around his cigarette. "He's persistent."

Lily didn't want to give him the pleasure of knowing she concurred. The little she knew of James told her that he wasn't the sort to give up on anything, let alone a promise. And by now he must know she had his flannel.

"Can't do anything without having everything his way, after all," Severus continued, blowing out smoke quickly between his thin lips. Lily was too distracted by his angular fingers, the blue veins along transparent skin and the white cigarette between thin fingers to garner up a response. He turned to her with a false smile which came out as a grimace. "And now you're his new little fix. Congratulations."

"You hate him so much and yet you're always going on about him," Lily pointed out. "It's like you're obsessed or something."

She gave him a shrewd smile with a faint sense of satisfaction as she watched Severus' face scrunch up, ready to retort.

"I'm not obsessed with that trust-fund WASP of a brat," he said flatly.

"Sure," she said, glancing up at him as she finally found the brush.

"You know what? I don't get you," Severus said, squinting and leaning in ever so slightly towards her.

"What's there not to get? You obviously like to design puzzles for yourself," Lily said, wincing as the brush caught a particularly thick knot.

"Why are you living with a bunch of strangers in the middle of San Francisco—a place people from your neck of the woods must think to be the sin capital of the country by now—when you look like you could have just won prom queen? And on day one you got a place to stay and everybody is already a fan of little Miss Ohio '67. You're just…weird."

"Oh yes, Severus. Trying to make friends is so out of the ordinary," Lily said drolly, lips quirking as she noticed him roll his eyes. She stood up to stretch before dragging her sleeping bag closer to his and sat down again. "What did you do when you came here?"

"I'll tell you what I didn't do: I didn't find somewhere to stay the second I got here like you," Severus said, pointing at her with his smoking hand accusingly. "You didn't just jump in to take what came at you like I had to. You cheated."

"You think this is some sort of damn game? I didn't want to end up on the street!" Lily said in disbelief. "Who knows what could have—"

Severus opened his mouth as if to make a snide statement but quickly closed it, a split second decision Lily caught instantly. "What? What were you going to say?"

"Nothing that would progress this enthralling conversation."

"Just spit it out."

"So you'd spend one night in the cold, big fucking deal. There are people living on the street every damn day, and I'm sure you wouldn't have been the first one in a dress to do the same."

"You never know what sort of people could—" She stopped herself; Severus would have more ammo to depict her as a self-induced damsel in distress, tied to the train tracks by her own hand. "Nothing, forget it, you're right. But what's the point? You're just going to have to deal with me in the house."

"You aren't something to deal with exactly," Severus said before pulling the cigarette up to his dry lips again. "You're just weird."

"Should you really be the one defining weird?" Lily asked with a small laugh. "No offense, but you aren't exactly mister conformity, nor what I'd call normal."

"Never said I was," he said with a hint of pride in his voice, chin slightly elevated. "But who isn't conforming now? I mean, look around you. Over half the people here probably just went to their local second hand store and bought half the shit and beads they're wearing because it's a fad. It's all a big fad and good luck trying to find many legitimate people out here."

He lit another cigarette. "Most of these morons are a bunch of middle class brats looking for a fun way to rebel against their conservative parents. Ask any of these saps who…I don't know…Allen Ginsburg is and they'll look like a fish out of fucking water. Met some bastard yesterday who said he goes to some Ivy League or another, didn't even know who the fuck Mario Savio is and called himself a student activist. Talk about rich. I can see somebody like you not knowing these things but—"

"I'll have you know that I know who he is, thank you very much. We do get LIFE and TIME magazine in Ohio. He was always getting arrested and making speeches. Petunia made all sorts of rude comments about it all, calling him a Communist or something."

"Am I supposed to know who Petunia is?"

"You'd be better off not knowing. But if you must, she's my older sister. I'd rather keep it at that."

Severus shrugged and took another drag. "The music is fine but it's nearly ruined by all the idiots roaming around, acting like smoking grass and dropping acid gives them more credibility."

"Hey, you said you came out here a couple years ago. Why'd you leave home?" Lily asked, tiring of Severus' tirade and interrupting before he could go further.

"You've got nerve asking me when you haven't answered that yourself," Severus said. "But unlike you, I have nothing to hide."

"Everybody has something to hide, Severus," Lily said sagely. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

"When you're not being overly optimistic and annoyingly curious you're a real smart ass. You know that, right?"

"I prefer cheeky. But go on."

"Well..." He was stalling: his scalp was suddenly itchy, he suddenly needed three consecutive drags from his cigarette, and Evan's snoring distracted him.

"Yes?" Lily pressed.

"I grew up in here in California, the southern half. Mom stays at home, doesn't work. Dad repairs things."

"Are they happily married?"

Severus paused and, while taking another slow drag of the Marlboro, regarded Lily coldly before staring at his left palm. "Do you really think that's relevant?"

Lily reddened.

"She—Mom—wanted to be famous for some reason. Have her name and handprints in the sidewalk. Wasted her life away on a dream of having her body parts printed in wet cement for people to step on and spit on and for dogs to piss on. Somewhere along the way she met Dad. She was doing well with her performances apparently; doing background singing and dancing in movies, even had a talking part once. One line I bet. Point is she could support herself while Dad was broke. But she had a fall one day during rehearsal and hurt her knee. It took too long to heal and, as the story goes, by that time she was over and her dancing wasn't the same."

"But she could still sing couldn't she?"

Severus scoffed. "It's not the 40s and she's no Ginger Roberts in the looks department anymore, especially after having a kid. She'd be the first to admit it so don't look so offended. I was sure you'd have realized by now that I'm not the sugarcoating type. In show business you can't just be good at one thing. You have to have most if not all of the package or nothing. A singer who can't dance is like a guy with no legs racing a car. You can forget about it."

"That's terrible. I'm sorry," Lily said. She couldn't imagine having a dream like that obliterated over a twist of fate.

"Don't apologize to me," he said. "My future doesn't depend on the stability of my right fucking knee."

"So when did you come along in all this?" she asked before he could have another excuse to go off.

"A year later I guess. Math adds up."

He paused and drew his lips together tightly as he stared, emotionless, at Lily's bare left knee, foot continuing to nervously tap the ground in an erratic pattern.

"Why am I even telling you this?" he scoffed. "It doesn't fucking matter anyway. Especially not to you. Completely fucking pointless. What are you going to do, huh, turn back the clock a good 20 years and fix her knee?"

"I thought you had nothing to hide," she said, poking his arm and undeterred by his scathing tone. "Go on, I'm interested."

"You're a good liar."

"Actually I'm crap at it."

Still staring at her knee, he flicked away light grey ashes and took another long drag before continuing. "She used pills for the knee pain but let's just say she takes them whenever she feels like it."

Lily nodded slowly, understanding. She'd never heard of a grown woman with a drug problem. Marilyn Monroe came to her mind, but she was famous and posed naked in magazines; an icon who stood over subway vents with the skirt of her dress rippling around her. Severus' mother was more real, more tangible.

"Dad isn't much better but he prefers shit you have to open with a church key. They're both wrecks. She's always falling asleep, never paying attention to a damn thing. She nearly burned down the fucking house when she fell asleep while ironing. Ironing." Severus let out a short, forced chuckle before regaining his steely composure. "But at least she tried to be a parent, unlike my good-for-nothing father who thinks that teaching you how to ride a bike and shave is all you need to do to be a good parent."

Lily regretted the pleasure she felt at his expense earlier as she realized just how dysfunctional his family life was. He flicked more ashes into the grass with blindingly fast speed.

"So why did you leave home?"

"What I've told you isn't enough reason to you?" Severus asked with another laugh lacking an ounce of humor.

"What was the breaking point?" Lily corrected herself. "I'm just curious."

"You really get off to doom and gloom, don't you?"

"Oh, don't say that," she winced.

"Mom wanted me to go off to school and be a doctor or a lawyer or something else completely ridiculous. I had good grades, I'm smart, and I could have gotten into whatever college I wanted. But I didn't want to go to school and become another tool for perpetuating capitalist bullshit and turn into another suit. My father would have forced me to go in the business with him if I didn't go to college and I'd rather cut my balls off, frankly. And I couldn't stand the two of them arguing. I had enough, so I left right after I graduated. I was legally allowed to so why the fuck not? Maybe being away is what those two needed. But I still write to Mom when I can. She at least deserves that much."

"Yeah, I know," Lily said.

"You know what?"

Shit. "What?"

"What do you know about?"

Lily licked her lips. "Okay, I saw a letter you were writing to her, your mom. It was on your bed yesterday. But I swear I didn't really read it."

"So you're a snooper," Severus said, glaring at her. He took another drag and mumbled, "Great. That's pretty fucking reassuring. Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

"Well, my first life is up. I suspect I've got eight more snooping opportunities left in me." Severus rolled his eyes. Lily grinned.

---

In Lily's opinion, Sirius Black would be a shoe-in for the eighth wonder of the world. Hands down, no questions asked, no contest.

"What is his problem?" Lily hissed. "What did I do?"

Lily and Remus sat on the prickly grass of the festival grounds, both idly licking away at vanilla ice cream while the rest of the boys went off to do something Lily found ridiculous and Remus found a waste of recently purchased dessert. Lily toyed with her new wooden-beaded, rainbow-colored necklaces while her companion regarded the different incense sticks he bought from one of the dozens of booths, squinting at each unique stick as if he were a scientist peering upon a rare specimen under a microscope.

He shrugged unconvincingly as ice cream dripped onto his jeans. "I don't know."

"What do you think his problem is?"

"I think…" Remus started, carefully calculating how he phrased his wording, mulling over proper construction like a crude thought transforming into an epiphany. He took another lick and with an apologetic smile he said, "I think that he feels threatened by you, actually."

"How on earth…"

After twenty-four hours of knowing Sirius Black, "threatened", by a girl whom he has known for just as long - would be the last word she'd associate with him. He was always joking at the expense of others, was shamelessly confident, and flirted to a degree Lily believed should be illegal in the state of California. He was loaded like James, but unlike his partner in crime he was the black sheep of a prestigious family. The Blacks were old money, no nonsense, and according to some of the more colorful stories Sirius and James shared, they demonstrated questionable ethics. She found out he had a younger brother still attending the boarding school at which Sirius and James had met years ago. The two were troublemakers from the get go, causing havoc at the institution and yet managing to graduate at the top of their classes. Sirius was initially forced by his "mad bitch of a mother" to continue an Ivy League Black legacy, but after one day he dropped out, packed his bags, and traveled the country with James before settling in San Francisco and meeting Remus and Peter after their travels. His mother disowned him.

Underneath the nice hair and cigarettes was clearly a far less glamorous family life. However it didn't justify his behavior towards her in Lily's mind.

"It's dripping," Remus warned.

Lily swiftly licked at the vanilla slithering down her thumb.

"Sirius is protective of James, I guess. They've known each other for years, been best friends for years. Maybe he's afraid of a girl getting in the way. I don't know."

Lily laughed in disbelief. "Oh come on, Remus. He's afraid of James' relentless flirting? That makes no sense. Sirius does an awful lot of it himself."

Remus shrugged. "You asked me what I think his problem is. And besides, Sirius' mind doesn't work like normal human beings. He baffles me daily. But don't let it bother you: it's just Sirius!"

"That's a bit difficult when he's constantly looking at you like you're…you're…"

"Like you're some kind of threat," Remus finished for her knowingly and took a final bite of the sugary cone, finishing it off. "'He'll 'ome 'ound."

"You think?"

He swallowed and sniffed a particularly strong incent stick too deeply, causing him to cough out, "Honestly?"

"Yes."

"Not anytime soon, no."

Lily gave Remus a withering look and finished her cone. "By the way, aren't you boiling?"

"Boiling?"

"You're wearing a turtleneck. It must be 80 degrees out here."

Remus looked down at himself and thumbed the blue cotton material somewhat mournfully.

"I like turtlenecks," he told his chest.

--

James managed to acquire some cheap face paint, and Peter was the only one with the nerve to complete her request to have a flower painted on her right and left cheeks. Though elementary—a typical yellow center with multi-colored, inconsistently shaped and elongated petals—it would do.

"You know, Peter," Lily started as she looked at her cheeks in the mirror. "You aren't half bad at face painting. Thanks."

"I could have done that," James said while Sirius concentrated on painting his cheek. "Better job, even."

"But you didn't," Lily pointed out. "Looks like Pete here is the only one man enough to do the job."

Peter snickered. "Yeah, I'm the only one man enough."

The corner of James' mouth quirked and his eyebrows rose. "Man enough, huh? Should we tell the lady here about a certain Chatty Kathy?"

Peter's mouth contorted as he tried to defend himself before he whined, "That was one time. I have a sister, you know that."

"It was twice but sure, Pete," James chuckled, moving sharply to grab Peter around the neck with his arm and gave him a wet willie. Lily watched as Peter's limbs flailed around and both boys laughed. There were many things about the male specimen she would never be able to wrap her head around, and sticking a wet, saliva-slathered finger into a friend's ear was one of them.

"Uncle! Uncle!" Peter shouted through heavy chuckles.

"Stop moving, panty waist," Sirius told James. His hands were covered in black face paint, smudged on his fingernails and the side of his nose. Sirius had already taken full advantage of the Monterey spirit by the looks of him: some girls gave him flowers to stick in his hair, dark shades dangled from the collar of his shirt, and a joint was tucked neatly behind his right ear. Lily even saw a mark along his neck, either of lipstick or a hickey or both.

"Are you about done, Van Gogh?" James asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Sirius grinned. "Done…now. Voila!"

"It takes you THAT long to paint a damn airplane?" James asked with utter exasperation, as though forty-five seconds was a painstakingly gruelingamount of time.

He turned towards the others and Lily immediately held her breath

"Well?" James said. "How does it look?"

"Oh." Lily tried to suppress an avalanche of laughter as she stared at him with her head tilted to the side, marveling in Sirius' ability to get away with painting an incredibly crude, limp penis on James' left cheek with an arrow pointing towards his mouth. "I guess it's alright for an airplane."

"It better be," James said.

"Hey, Remus, be a pal and take a picture of me and James, huh?" Sirius said, grinning like a maniac as he put his arm around James. Just as Remus pressed the button, Sirius turned his head and gave James a sloppy kiss on the cheek opposite of the offending painting.

"Hey!" James wiped the saliva away with the back of his hand.

"We're supposed to be all about free love spirit and all that bullshit, right?" Sirius smirked. He then pulled a rolled joint out of his back pocket, lit it, and took a hit before passing it to James. "When in Rome!"

---

By the end of the night, Lily had one too many musical heroes for her repertoire. They ranged from Joplin's powerful performance that late afternoon to The Who destroying their equipment, and especially Hendrix lighting his guitar on fire after his nimble fingers flowed across six strings like nothing she'd ever seen before. His gravity-defying hair and flamboyant style of a ruffled white shirt, embroidered navy vest, red pants and other eccentric accessories were unforgettable; he was the epitome of a show-stopper. Everyone in the crowd went wild as the bright flames rose higher and higher under fingers undulating above the heat.

Hours spent enthralled finally ended, and Lily was thoroughly exhausted.

"Amazing!" James shouted into her ear as they shuffled through the crowd. He smelled of sweat and smoke and Remus' spilt cherry soda, she of sweat and smoke and Sirius' beer; she was convinced that Sirius was less than sincerely apologetic for that spill. Amazing was an understatement, they both knew that much, but she smiled and nodded.

"Amazing."

"I think Sirius cried," James said, lips brushing against her ear so she could hear him through the thousands of voices. "His cheeks were wet."

"Speaking of Sirius," Lily said. "I think you should make sure he doesn't decide to light something on fire for the hell of it. He seems like he'd be the sort to mimic something he sees."

"I think he lost his lighter."

"Maybe that's why he was crying. What a pity."

Suddenly, a tall, broad-shouldered man pushed his way through the swarm of people, knocking Lily off balance and stepping on her foot.

"Ouch!"

"Hey, watch it, twinkle-toes!" James barked at the man's back before turning to Lily. "All right?"

"Yeah, just feels like someone drove over my foot. Other than that, I'm feeling pretty groovy," Lily said dryly.

"Here, let me carry you."

"Are you insane? I'm fine, James." Lily managed to give him a laugh. "You'd probably drop me anyway."

"Not true!" he said and lifted his arm to flex. Not much improved from its relatively limp form. "Get a load of this!"

"Of what?"

"Hey! Way to burn a guy!" James cried, letting his arm fall to his side.

The crowd became more dense, compact with people inching their way through the mass. Lily had to grab on to James' shirt sleeve to makes sure they didn't lose each other in the process. "Wait, where are the others?"

He shrugged. "I'll find them. I'm walking you back to Snivellus and company first."

"Severus."

"Who cares? I still can't believe you willingly choose to breathe the same air as him." James shuddered.

"I've got no choice. And besides, the rest are fine. Well, not Evan, but the rest are great. Alice and Betty and—"

"Don't be silly, you've got plenty of choice. This is America, isn't it?" James said. "You should stay with me and the guys! We've got more room and we have a color television. Watching the Smothers Brothers is ten times better in color."

"Thanks for the offer, but living with a house full of boys will drive me up the wall. And look, Severus may be a nasty piece of work but—"

"But nothing," James said, void of the usual spark he displayed when putting down his archenemy of sorts. "You don't know as much as I do about him."

"Both of you say the same things about each other. Who the hell am I supposed to believe?"

"Oh, I don't know. How about the one who actually likes you? The one who you've spent two days with, maybe? The one who you witnessed get a dick painted on his face?" James said, and to reiterate the point he blocked Lily's way, standing firm with his hands on her shoulders. His square framed glasses were incredibly crooked as they rested nearly on the tip of his nose, messy hair clinging in locks to the sweat and dirt on his forehead. James was as arrogant and pestering as Severus said, she'd give him that much. But he had a devil-may-care glint in his eyes when he smiled, as he concocted his next adventure, his next outlandish fantasy. Nothing seemed outlandish in the world of James Potter, she discovered after twenty-four hours of taking in his existence. To Severus she was too optimistic, a dreamer reveling in the sun; too suspicious and asked too many questions. However, compared to James, whatever ounce of vivaciousness or stints of spontaneity she possessed seemed miniscule, a blip on the radar of cheap thrills.

"A dick," He repeated, causing Lily to release a snort. "Oh, so it's funny?"

"Yes!" Lily laughed. "It took you three hours to find out!"

James look of seriousness quickly subsided and his mouth quivered into a grin.

"Is everybody from Ohio like you?"

"I hope not."

---

Nearly everyone was already waiting, trying not to get too behind the massive traffic congestion ready to greet them on the highway, by the time she returned to the van. Severus stood smoking by the driver's door, stubbing the cigarette out as Lily approached.

"About time," he said.

"Sorry," she said. "Got held up. Back to San Francisco, eh?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"This weekend went by so fast. It'll be odd going back."

"Not really," Severus said. "It'll be the same thing back there just with fewer cops around."

"Still…" Lily muttered as she looked around the grounds, taking in the atmosphere; the singing wanderers and the topless women, the smell of grass and damp dirt. "It was a good weekend.

He gave her a tired look before bending down to pluck a lone weed sprouting a blossoming bud. He roughly pushed the flower behind Lily's ear. It tickled her forehead. "If you're going to San Francisco, you've got to wear flowers in your hair, or whatever the fuck those lyrics are. Now come on."

They were there in that same little corner of the van for what must have been a couple hours. Alice's face dripped with sweat and paint of every color of the rainbow, white grin clear and genuine as she kissed Frank soundly on the cheek, covering him with trickles of blue and pink. Joan proudly showed off the bracelets she made, Evan of the grass he scored with leftovers of Monterey Purple, and the others told of boys and girls they met. The sing-alongs and stories eventually ended, fading into the occasional sleepy-sounding "remember when's", the occasional filter of laughter, and then, the intermittent snore. In their corner, Lily and Severus were the last to doze off. As her eyes began to slowly droop, her last thought was a frank, solid "fuck it" as her head finally rested on the bony shoulder next to her.

--

Rosemary lamb and sweet scents of apple pie wafted through the Evans' household Easter of 1967. Oliver Hanely offered to help the Evans with the festivities, while his family conveniently decided to visit his grandparents for the weekend. The Evans sisters wore their newest dresses, Lily's dark purple and slightly above the knee, Petunia's a powder blue and reaching mid-calf. Petunia was upstairs applying layers upon layers of makeup onto her face and polish on her nails. Her room smelled of powder, varnish, and sickly-sweet vanilla candles, and the sounds of Lesley Gore drifted through the cracked open door. Petunia was meticulous as she sat at her vanity, each makeup product lined in neat rows and columns, perfumes in rainbow order, rollers stacked neatly in a pouch as she gingerly removed them from her blonde hair, and her mirror cleaned that morning to ensure ultimate clarity. Meanwhile, Lily leaned against a kitchen counter, preparing dinner.

"It's nice of you to help us with dinner, Oliver," Mrs. Evans said with an exhausted smile as she shut the oven door and rubbed her wet hands over her messy white apron. Flyaway bits of her brown bouffant- styled hair emerged out of its hairspray-stiff confines, and a thin layer of what she insisted be called perspiration shone across her forehead.

"Gee, Mrs. Evans. It's no problem," he said with a strong, sure smile; it accentuated his bone structure, his confident jaw line. "I help Mother out in the kitchen all the time. You just go rest your feet and watch some television with Mr. Evans."

Twenty, handsome, smart, polite, and Scout Helper: Oliver was a model boy of the era, even taking time off from college to help nurse his ailing father back to health. He was perfect. His hair was neatly combed, shirt tucked into his pants, and he was always freshly shaven.

"'Gee'? 'Golly'?" Lily mocked with a raised brow as she peeled a plump, russet potato after her mother stepped out of the kitchen, door swinging behind her. "Are you Oliver Hanley or a Cleaver in disguise?"

"I was just being polite," Oliver insisted as he cut the vegetables into perfect slices.

"And Mom ate it up. Congratulations, she's even more in love with you than before. And that's saying something, goody two-shoes."

Oliver nudged her with his elbow and they both chuckled.

"If only she knew of your less shining reputation," Lily said, eyebrows raised.

"And how do you know about that?" Oliver asked with a roguish smile.

"Oh, you know, word goes around fast." Lily shrugged nonchalantly. "Just some stories about one of the Hanley boys and his friends drinking on The Hill, sometimes with girls. It would be blasphemy if it got out. Does Petunia know?"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," Oliver said, carelessly.

"My lips are sealed."

"You're much more talkative than Petunia," Oliver said after a few moments. His grin was too sly, his eyes a little too bright.

"We're very different," Lily said, eyeing an unfortunate looking potato carefully before giving it another quick rinse. Repetitive motions were always a good distraction, heavy wool for the eyes.

"I can see that." He reached out his hand to gather a lock of her red hair. "For example, who'd you get this from?"

"My grandmother," Lily breathed, air supply suddenly caught in her throat as he curled the auburn tendrils around his fingers slowly. "I think we're Irish."

"Who isn't?" Oliver replied, uncurling her hair.

"Marlene Dietrich," she said quickly.

"Who?"

"She's German. You know, the actress. I think she's German," Lily said, unable to concentrate on potatoes. She placed the peeled vegetable into a bowl, set the peeler down, and rested her hands on the counter when Oliver's hand suddenly covered hers; his touch gentle but firm.

She stared at it before moving her hand sharply out of his grasp.

"We've got things to chop, Oliver," Lily said, trying desperately to ignore the constant pounding in her chest.

"That can wait." His hand caught hers again, thumb rubbing patterns into her palm, tickling the wet skin. He was still smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replied.

"Not chopping vegetables. They aren't going to cook themselves, you know."

His other hand, instead of gripping another carrot, met her waist, slowly moving towards the small of her back.

"Oliver!" she gasped, not moving but quickly turning a bright shade of pink. Her right hand gripped the tiled edge of the kitchen counter. Her pulse quickened, beating in the same irregular syncopation as her breaths, as his thumb chafed against her palm.

"Cut the bullshit, Lily," he said curtly, moving his mouth toward her ear. His breath felt warm against her skin, causing the sensitive, sheer hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

"B-But," Lily said, panting. "Petunia—"

"Petunia told me a little secret, the other day," he said. She could hear his smile widening. "Want to know what she said?"

Lily half-heartedly tried to wriggle out of his embrace. She knew what Petunia told him.

"She says you like me. That you have some sort of little kid crush on her boyfriend."

"Well, Petunia was lying," she snapped.

"You're blushing," he chuckled.

"How would you know?" Lily asked, her neck increasingly stiff as she kept her neck frozen, as any movement might cause skin-to-lip contact. "You can't see my cheeks."

"You should see your neck," he whispered, running a finger along the knot at the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. "It's already pinker than cotton candy."

"Oliver—" she said, alarmed that his name came out in a whimper rather than the stern tone she imagined in her head.

"You don't look like a little kid to me, Lily. You've never seemed like a little kid. I reckon Petunia is scared."

"Scared?" she whispered.

"Yeah, scared her little sister isn't so little anymore." He stopped caressing her palm, moving down to her hip. "You're gorgeous. A gorgeous woman, not a girl."

She had no time to think as he pressed her against the counter, head lowering so his lips could travel down her neck before lightly sucking the sensitive flesh between his lips. He made his way back up and kissed her cheek next, his grin lingering along her skin.

"Oliver," she whispered, suddenly finding her hands and pushing him away gently. Too gently. "No."

He watched her reddened cheeks slowly lose their color and her chest heave. "She won't know, Lily. Don't look so damn worried. Lips sealed, remember? Look, I'll peel the potatoes. My hands are faster than yours."

There was a constant mixture of sickness and pleasure every time she saw him: every time he came to pick up Petunia, every time he caught her alone; every time he kissed and flattered her in hushed tones as she let his hands wander.

The thrill made her ill. The thrill gave her a craving she knew would destroy her in the end.

It was only a matter of time.

--

Lily's fingertips lightly pressed against the spot where her collarbones met, just under her neck. There were some things no soap could remove; sensation, emotion. Scrubbing skin raw and scalding hot water only gets rid of the problems and lesions that have already reached the surface. Insides are impossible to scrub clean. The cold tile of the shower brought needed relief to her burning shoulder blades. She panted heavily in the steam and a queasy feeling rumbled in her stomach. Closing her eyes, Lily shook her head, wet hair sticking to her face, trying to push the memory out of her mind.

This is the last time you think about it…starting in five…four…three…two…one…

She opened her eyes, desperate to feel a sense of emptiness or closure. And it worked…for a few seconds at least. This attempt at peace of mind was no longer unfamiliar. A nagging inkling of guilt tugged at her for having the nerve to be so thoughtless with total strangers here in this strange city and an even stranger concert. To kiss and smoke and experiment with anyone. Lily knew Petunia was right about her after all.

She was reckless.

"You've learned jack shit," she said to herself.

A loud bang on the door caused Lily to give a little shout and nearly slip on the sudsy shower floor.

"You're killing fish, you know that?" yelled Severus' voice. "It's people like you who cause droughts!"

She turned off the water with a scowl and wrapped herself in a towel before treading down the hall towards the room she and Severus shared.

"More grass?" Lily asked as she entered, clutching the towel to her body with one hand and running her hand through her stringy hair with the other. The smell by now was familiar, but never what she'd call pleasant.

"It's Evan's," he said, taking another drag. He looked exhausted.

"Hm."

She walked to her side of the room and turned on the lights as she dressed behind the thick beads, changing into a rather unremarkable cotton knee-length nightgown. The room was stuffy, so with arms crossed over her chest she walked to Severus' side to open the window.

After relishing the cool breeze, she looked over her shoulder to see Severus staring oddly at her.

"What is it with you?"

"What?"

"You keep looking at me like I've got four arms. Is there something up my nose? Is my hair green?" Lily demanded, exasperated. "What, pray tell, is it this time?"

"Don't you think it's past your bedtime?"

"Fuck off," Lily said, leaning against the window, and watched the dead, dark street outside.

After several drags and several sighs, Severus asked, "Why are you here, Evans?"

Lily's scalp was getting cold as the breeze hit her damp hair; as she spotted someone walking their dog in the street below, she decided to be vague with him.

"I need to clear my head. Just for a little while."

"So you ran away."

She turned sharply towards him. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to say anything," Severus said smugly. "I'm not stupid. It's obvious now: you ran away. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes!" Lily retorted with a shriek. "I ran away. I hopped on a fucking bus and ran away. Happy now?"

"No," he said calmly after a long drag. "You still haven't explained why you ran away. You can clear your head anywhere."

"Curiosity killed the cat, remember?" Practice what you preach, she thought.

"You're still hiding something."

"For fuck's sake!" She pushed herself off the wall. "Look, Dragnet, I'm not talking about this right now. It's three A.M. I'm going to bed."

"Whatever."

"Yeah, whatever."

--

Severus prided himself in being a silent observer, pontifications best concocted in nicotine or herb-induced hazes, and with other toxins too if he could get his hands on them. Lily Evans remained a complete mystery to him; she was already popular amongst everyone in the house, and she downplayed everything from her looks to her magnetic persona. Her naiveté was balanced with pluck and cleverness. The girl could name any mod fashion model and own obscure blues albums but could hardly roll a joint: she was just a mystery.

Over the past few days Severus discovered little things about her: she was fond of bare legs and bare feet and he often caught himself engrossed by feminine skin covered in sparse freckles, distracted by the red rush of blood under the creamy color of her left thigh after she crossed her legs. He almost hated himself for this new, passive extra-curricular activity, but not enough to stop. She was attractive, without question. He figured he wouldn't have kissed her if she was some kind of skag.

Kissed her. It seemed like ages ago to him. The kiss was empty, fueled by chemicals and confusion rather than warmth and attraction. Luckily, he told himself.

Her face often expressed amusement with the curl of her red lips, or concern with a frown, penetrating green stares and nods. But as of late, scowls and downcast eyes were more frequent in his presence. They didn't fit her well. He knew he was partly to blame, and he knew he should have cared more. Anyone decent would have. But he wasn't decent and he knew as much; Lily didn't have to prove that obvious fact to him.

He'd keep Lily at a distance, scoff at her brief moments of stupidity, ignore her cleverness, and move on; he'd watch the angry look in her eyes and revel in them. To bask in her anger instead of her joy was safer. Her joy made him feel a foreign surge of misguided warmth towards her. These reactions were too volatile; self-destruction in the making. It made his stomach feel queer and his eyes twitch and his cheeks flush a terrible, spotty mauve.

It was like he was fourteen again. Fourteen was shit.

As he watched her retreat angrily back to her side of the room he came to a conclusion: she'd become corrupted enough sooner or later, no need to accelerate a certain fate. It was only a matter of time before she'd learn to maintain vices or fall victim to them, and he wouldn't stop her nor interfere. That was life in the Haight and he was all too familiar to the latter path.