The summer after their first year at Hogwarts, Sev found a battered old book on the language of flowers. He had dug it out of a box in his mother's closet, buried beneath a dusty gobstones set, several puzzles, and a bag of musty clothes. When he thrust it at her, a smirk not quite concealing the enthusiasm that lit his features, Lily had gazed back at him blankly.
"It's the language of flowers," he said, jabbing the faded letters on the book's cover. "Don't you know about this? You're named after a bloody flower."
She rolled her eyes. "That doesn't make me a flower expert, Sev."
"Oh." He flipped through the book, and his smirk grew. "I guess you don't know what petunias represent, then."
She picked a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers. "What do I care what petunias represent?"
She already regretted admitting her ignorance, because Sev was insufferable when he knew something she didn't, but she couldn't let him see how much she was dying to know what petunias represented.
He shrugged. "I dunno. I guess you don't care." The book snapped shut, and then he was standing to leave, filling the air with the damp, mildewy scent that clung to his clothes in the summer, when the house elves weren't around to perform whatever laundry-freshening magic Mrs. Snape had never mastered.
"Wait!" She grabbed his arm and tugged him back down beside her. "Alright, fine. What do petunias represent?"
He paged through the book until he found the right section, then pointed to a drawing of a bunch of petunias. "Resentment and anger," he said, his lips twitching back into that familiar smirk. "Resentment means–"
"I know what resentment means, Sev," she said, heaving an impatient sigh. "That's not very nice, by the way."
"What? I didn't come up with this. It's been around for hundreds of years." He flipped another few pages. "Guess what lilies represent."
She tried to peer over his shoulder, but he jerked the book out of her view.
"I said guess."
"I dunno." She plucked another piece of grass and wrapped it around her finger, itching to use magic, except they weren't allowed. "Smart? Hilarious? Potions prodigy?"
He gave a disdainful snort. "Prodigy's a bit generous."
She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Slughorn called me a prodigy. Did he call you a prodigy? If he did, I must have missed it because I was too busy admiring my perfect Forgetfulness Potion."
"Shut up." The slight curl of his thin lips was as much of an agreement as she was likely to get.
She flashed him a triumphant grin and poked his face with the blade of grass. "That's what I thought. Now, tell me what lilies actually represent."
He held the book out to her, and she skimmed the yellowed page underneath a drawing of a single, elegant lily.
"Purity and…" Wrinkling her nose, she looked up from the book. "Fertility? Does that mean I have to have a lot of babies? Ugh. No thanks."
"Like I said, I didn't come up with this. It's your fault for being named after a flower."
She gave his shoulder a light shove. "I don't see how it's my fault. Besides, if you were named after a flower, you'd be named something worse than a lily. Something poisonous, probably." She turned pages in the book until her eyes landed on a promising illustration. "Basil – I hate you."
He snatched the book out of her hands. "Rude," he snapped, turning a few pages and pointing at a heading. "Buttercup. Childishness."
"I'm childish?" She turned the pages and peered down at the faded words. "Almond. Stupidity."
He rolled his eyes and ran his finger along the page until he nodded in satisfaction. "Clotbur. Rudeness."
She chuckled. "That one's for you, too. You're the rudest person I've ever met."
"Bollocks. What about Potter and Black?"
She scowled as she remembered all the beetle eyes James Potter had thrown at her when Slughorn's back was turned. "Good point. What flowers would represent them?"
Sev's eyes lit up as he began paging furiously through the book.
After that, the language of flowers became their secret code. He would pass her notes in class with the names of various flowers scribbled in his tiny, cramped handwriting. By second year, she had obtained her own copy of the book at a secondhand shop, and by third year she had most of it memorized. When Sirius Black leaned back in his chair and toppled over, landing on Bertram Aubrey's lap, Sev smirked and scrawled Geranium on Lily's Charms notes. Stupidity, she thought, stifling a giggle as Sirius got to his feet and took a bow. Folly.
A few weeks later, James Potter ran his hand through his stupid messy hair and invited her to Hogsmeade.
After she turned him down and hurried away, blushing, Sirius called after her, "Come on, Evans, give him a chance! He's got those irresistible Quidditch muscles, and he smells nicer than Snivelly, even after a long night of Quidditch practice!"
"Coxcomb," she muttered to Severus.
"Foppery and affectation," he said, nodding. "Amaryllis, too. Pride, obviously, not timidity. Definitely not splendid fucking beauty."
"But what about those Quidditch muscles?" Lily asked, rolling her eyes and imitating Sirius's exaggerated tone.
"Zephyr flower," he said, shaking his head. "The thought of him taking his clothes off makes me sick."
Lily didn't argue, because she felt the same way, even if Sirius might have had a point about James smelling nice. Smelling nice didn't negate the fact that he was an obnoxious, arrogant toerag.
A faint tapping roused Lily from her sleep. When she padded across her room and peered out her window, she saw Severus scowling up at her from her front garden. She waved, then pulled on a jumper and shoes, draped a blanket over her shoulder, and hurried downstairs and out into the balmy summer night.
They didn't speak until they reached the park, sprawling out on the grass with the blanket draped over them. Lily could make out a few stars twinkling behind the curtain of clouds. A dog barked in the distance, but otherwise it was unusually quiet for Cokeworth. She found Sev's hand under the blanket and gave it a squeeze.
"Less than a month until we go back to Hogwarts," she said. She knew better than to ask about the row that had led him to flee, and was most likely still echoing from the open windows of his house on Spinner's End.
"Not fucking soon enough," he muttered, tugging the blanket up to his chin.
The wind toyed with the swings, knocking the chain against the metal post with a soft clang. The dark barked again, and Lily could hear the faint hum of a car engine on the road beyond.
"Arborvitae," she murmured. Unchanging friendship. She glanced over at him, struggling to see his face in the near-darkness.
"Arborvitae," he repeated, his long, slender fingers clutching hers.
They lapsed into silence as a sharp pebble bit into Lily's back and a light breeze plucked at her hair. She glanced sideways at Sev, watching him glare up at the starry sky. Her eyelids drooped, but she forced herself to stay awake.
"What would we do without each other?" she asked, speaking through a huge yawn.
"I'd be bored out of my bloody mind. Hogwarts is full of idiots." Sev turned to look at her, his eyes almost invisible in the dark. "Agrimony."
Gratitude, Lily though, giving his hand another squeeze. "I'm glad we're friends, too."
They lay there, listening to the whine of mosquitos until Sev stopped trembling and they drifted off to sleep.
The cool, damp air of the dungeons mingled with the steam from Lily's potion, putting her at ease. She added snake fangs to her mortar and began to crush them into a fine powder. The crunch of the fangs against the pestle gave her a peculiar sense of satisfaction, and a smile spread across her face.
"Stacy Tremblay's potion is about to boil over," Sev muttered, jerking his head at the bubbling cauldron in front of them.
Lily could hear it now – a hiss of steam and the burble of liquid against the sides of the cauldron. She privately thought of it as the potion screaming for help, begging to be rescued by someone with a more subtle understanding of the focus needed to brew a potion.
"Don't tell her." He put a hand on her arm and raised his eyebrows. His long dark hair fell into his face but didn't conceal the way his eyes glittered in the dim light of the classroom. "Otherwise, how will she learn to pay attention to her potion instead of staring at Black? She's a bloody idiot, and if her potion boils over, well, that's a natural consequence."
"You're such an arsehole," Lily murmured, grinning as she leaned forward in her seat. "Stacy! Your potion is about to boil over. I'd give it a few stirs and then turn the heat down a bit."
Stacy turned around to face her, disdain creasing her features. "My potion's fine, Evans. You and Snivellus aren't the only ones who are good at potions, you know." She turned back to her potion, muttering, "Dunno why I'm the bloody idiot."
"Tremblay, did I just hear you use our nickname?" Sirius Black leaned over in his seat to give her a thumbs up. "Did you hear that, James? It's catching on."
Lily shot him a withering look and turned her attention back to her potion. "She heard you," she whispered to Sev as she added the powdered snake fangs.
His response was drowned out by a splash of potion meeting the flames underneath the cauldron, followed by Donald Fawcett's indignant cry as he was splattered with half-finished Wideye Potion.
"Then she should've listened," Sev said, lifting the hem of his robes to avoid the rivulet of potion now oozing along the floor. He Vanished it with a lazy flick of his wand, then reached for the jar of Wolfsbane and held it up to Lily with a pointed expression.
Misanthropy, Lily thought, smiling wryly as Stacy chastised Donald Fawcett for failing to warn her of her potion's impending doom.
"Yeah," she murmured, tapping a finger against the jar's faded label. "Sometimes I hate people, too." She watched Sev narrow his eyes as he measured out the correct amount of Wolfsbane for his own potion, then poured some into another measuring cup for her. "You're alright, though."
He smirked as he handed her the cup of Wolfsbane. "Garden daisy."
I share your sentiments, Lily translated in her head. As she tipped the Wolfsbane into her cauldron, a smile spread across her face. She was glad they agreed on the important things.
"What's wrong?" Severus touched her shoulder, his long, pale fingers dislodging the snow that had gathered on her coat.
"Nothing." She jerked away from his touch, then shook off the remaining snow and turned to march back to the castle.
"It's not nothing." He grabbed her hand, his fingernails scrabbling against her thick woolen gloves. "Dogsbane."
Deceit. Falsehood. She jerked out of his grasp, then flung herself down on the snowbank behind Honeyduke's. The crunchy snow began to seep through her trousers, but she ignored the cold.
"Mulciber called me a…" She glared at him and crossed her arms, widening her eyes and willing herself not to cry. "You know."
His eyes flashed with anger. "Did he really? Fucking tosser." He sat down beside her and glowered down at the dirty snow under their feet. "Frog ophrys. And French marigold."
She glanced sideways at him and flashed him a grateful smile. Disgust made sense, but she frowned at the other flower. "What could he possibly be jealous of, Sev?"
Severus shrugged, a mechanical jerk of his shoulders almost too quick to notice. "What wouldn't he be jealous of? You're top of our year. Creeping cereus. Black poplar." He hesitated, glancing down at their sodden feet as he added, "Coriander."
Lily froze, her hand halfway to her face to brush snow out of her hair. Modest genius. She wasn't sure about the modest part, but she'd ignore that for now. Courage – well, that was without question. She wouldn't have ended up in Gryffindor otherwise. But coriander…
"What's my hidden worth, Sev?"
He smirked, nudging his shoulder against hers before sliding to his feet. "If I talk about it, it won't be hidden." He tapped his finger against the side of his head and raised his eyebrows. "Walnut."
She rolled her eyes. Intellect. "Arrogant arsehole."
"What's James Potter got to do with anything?" he scoffed.
The sound of their mingled laughter softened the sharp edges of her lingering hurt.
Someone gave her shoulder a sharp jab, and Lily whirled to find Severus standing behind her, a piece of parchment clutched in his fingers.
"You dropped this," he muttered, thrusting her Defense Against the Dark Arts notes in her face.
"Thanks." She shoved it in her bag, then frowned at him. "Why're you all grumpy?"
He shot her a disdainful look. "I'm not grumpy. Just wondering what you were so busy talking to the idiots about that you forgot your notes."
She stepped backward as James Potter strode past, winking at her as he sauntered into the classroom and took his usual seat at the back beside Sirius Black.
"I was talking about the homework. And Remus isn't one of the idiots. Well, he's not as idiotic as the rest of them, and he's quite nice."
Severus made a dubious noise.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
"He's fucking strange, Lily. But sure, if you want to be taken in by Potter's gang of arrogant tossers, go for it." He moved to brush past her, but she grabbed his arm.
"Don't be so dramatic, Sev. Of course I'm not taken in by them." She gazed into the classroom and watched as Mary bumped into Sirius's chair and giggled when he tossed a piece of parchment at her. "Want to know a secret? Mary fancies Sirius Black."
Severus made a retching sound. "I thought she was dating what's his name? Bobby Fuckface Stebbins?"
Lily snorted with laughter. "She is. That doesn't stop her from fancying Black, though." She leaned closer and added, "She thinks he has a cute arse."
"Ugh." He shook his head in disgust. "African marigold. Pomegranate."
Vulgar minds. Foolishness. Lily giggled. "She can't help it if she has horrible taste. And a vulgar mind."
Sev's eyes darted to the row of desks at the back of the classroom where James Potter was toying with a Snitch, letting it fly almost out of reach before darting out and crushing its fluttering wings in his fingers.
"She has horrible taste?"
"Now who's the bloody pomegranate?" Lily demanded, sighing. "Come on, let's go in and sit down before we're late."
The scratching of quills and rustle of pages grated on Lily's nerves as she stared down at her Transfiguration essay, willing the words to write themselves.
"Why're you sitting over here?" Severus hissed, taking the empty chair beside her.
She looked up from her parchment, arranging her face into a casual expression. "Someone was sitting in our usual spot."
He nodded at the abandoned table on the other side of the library and raised his eyebrows. "Looks empty to me. I think you're just trying to avoid me."
She dipped her quill into her ink and heaved a sigh. "No. If I wanted to avoid you, I would've stayed in the common room."
"What, and watch Potter reenact every moment of the last Quidditch match while Pettigrew cheers and tells him how brilliant he is? You'd never get anything done."
A reluctant smile tugged at Lily's lips. "Black's throwing Bertie Botts again."
He liked to aim them at Mary's cleavage, and he had gotten more accurate over the past week, although a few errant beans still hit Lily's forehead or landed on top of her homework. As soon as Lily saw Sirius pull the box of Bertie Botts from his pocket tonight, she had packed up her things and marched out of the common room, ignoring the bean that bounced off of her neck as she climbed through the portrait hole.
"Fucking wanker," Severus muttered, taking his books from his bag and spreading them out on the table. "You should've ended up in Slytherin. There aren't nearly as many idiots."
"Hmm." She shot him a sharp look, then turned her attention back to the essay in front of her.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Lily nodded at Madam Pince's desk. "We'd better be quiet, or she'll kick us out."
Severus sighed and took out his quill and ink. A moment later he slid a piece of parchment across to her. Whin?
She rolled her eyes and wrote I'm not angry before shoving the parchment back to him.
Winter cherry, he wrote back.
I'm not lying, she scrawled, dotting the parchment with specks of ink in her haste. Whin's not the right flower. Her hand paused over the parchment as she examined her feelings, exploring as she would prod a bruise. It's more Carolina syringa. Judas tree. She twirled the quill around her fingers, then added Lavender.
With each word she wrote, memories flashed into her mind – the disappointment that had washed over her the first time she saw Sev talking to Mulciber at dinner; the betrayal that had twisted her stomach when Severus had strode past her in the corridor beside Avery and Mulciber without even glancing her way; the distrust that nagged at her even now as she and Sev passed notes in their secret language.
Goat's rue, he wrote back.
She rolled her eyes. You know why. Your new "friends."
His eyes narrowed as he looked up from the parchment. "What, you're the only one allowed to have friends I don't like?" he spat, his voice a vehement hiss.
"My friends don't call you a Mudblood," she shot back, her voice rising.
The Hufflepuff at the next table turned to stare at them, his eyes widening in alarm. From her desk, Madam Pince shot them a stern look and pressed her finger to her lips.
They're not really my friends, Severus scribbled, a sullen furrow appearing between his brows. Not like you. He lifted his eyes from the parchment, and Lily detected a rare vulnerability in the inky blackness before he looked down again and wrote Oak-leaved geranium.
True friendship, Lily thought, turning over the implications in her head. How long could they remain true friends when Severus chose to surround himself with people like that? She remembered the cruel, jagged edge in Mulciber's voice when he spat that word at her, the casual dismissal as Severus followed Avery past her in the corridor without even a hint of acknowledgement. Then she looked over and saw the worry clouding Severus's face, and she felt the ice in her chest begin to thaw.
Fine, she wrote, heaving a sigh. Oak-leaved geranium. But also, hand flower tree.
She didn't know if she meant to warn Severus not to trust his new friends, or warn him to be careful if he wanted to keep her as a friend, and he didn't ask.
Are you going to go to Hogsmeade with King Dunderhead?
"Ugh!" Lily's indignant exclamation attracted the Hufflepuff's attention once more, but he returned to his homework when she scowled at him.
Southernwood? she wrote, gouging the parchment with heavy, jerky strokes.
He fixed her with a hard, searching look. "Of course I'm joking. But it's… interesting how upset it makes you."
"I'm not upset. It's just that the idea of going out with him makes me want to vomit."
His shoulders relaxed and his smirk returned. "Good." He picked up his quill and wrote Cobæea?
She grinned, and her anger ebbed away. Gossip. "Do you even have to ask?"
He nodded at a spotty, frizzy-haired girl sitting a few tables away, then wrote, Damask Rose is shagging Davey Gudgeon.
Lily pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Damask rose meant "brilliant complexion;" Lily would feel bad about the ironic nickname, except Damask Rose had once accused Lily and Sev of stealing her Bertie Botts. It had been Sirius Black who'd stolen the stupid candy, but Damask Rose had refused to listen. I know neither of you can afford your own candy, she'd said, sneering at them, but you didn't have to go and steal mine.
Poor Davey Gudgeon, she wrote. How do you know?
His smirk curled upward, revealing a glimpse of his teeth. "Caught them during prefect patrols." He grimaced as he added, "Dragonwort."
"It must have been horrible," she agreed. "Ooh, guess what I heard?"
As she bent close to the parchment to divulge the failing mark she had seen on Bertram Aubrey's Defense paper, she almost forgot the leaden discomfort she felt every time she saw Sev with Mulciber and Avery. Almost.
Lily collapsed into a seat in the train compartment, then rummaged through her bag to find her book. A twinge of anger ran through her when she found a small bouquet of flowers on top of the paperback copy of The Hobbit Remus had let her borrow for the train ride.
"What's that?" Mary asked, setting out the latest issue of Witch Weekly beside a box of Bertie Botts. "Is it from a secret admirer?" Her eyes widened. "Ooh, is it from James?"
Lily dropped the flowers unceremoniously onto the floor. "Of course they're not from James. He hasn't even looked at me since I said I'd rather sit through a second History of Magic O.W.L. than go to his party this summer."
Mary wrapped a curl around her finger and frowned. "Well, that was a bit mean. That exam was the most boring two hours of my entire life." She peered at the flowers and added, "If they're not from James, who are they from?"
Before Lily could answer, there was a soft knock on the compartment door.
"Come in," Mary called, rolling her eyes. "You don't have to knock, Liv, we know it's you–"
Her voice broke off when she saw Severus standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" His gaze traveled to the discarded flowers, and his lips tightened.
"I've already said everything I need to," Lily snapped.
"But I haven't." He took a step forward, but Lily drew her wand and pointed it at him.
"Get out of our compartment, Severus. You think an apology bouquet's going to convince me to forgive you, after what you said? When you're going to leave here and share a fucking compartment with them?"
"I'm not–"
"You can take your fucking hyacinths and pansies and whatever this little pink one is, and shove them straight up your arse." She bent to pick up the flowers, then hurled them at him.
"It's moss rosebud," he muttered, gazing down at the crumpled bouquet at his feet.
She was too angry to remember what that one meant – probably another insincere apology.
"I'm done speaking to you." Her voice was flat and cold, belying the emotions raging inside her. "Have a good summer."
He turned and fled, his robes swishing behind him. As Lily shut the compartment door behind him, she trod on one of the flowers. It remained there for the rest of the train ride, a bright smear of pink against the floor.
Lily's bag dug into her shoulder as she scanned the library for an open table. It was more crowded than usual, and her favorite cozy round tables with the comfortable chairs were occupied. In fact, the only empty table was the small one by the door – the table she and Severus used to share. Her bag grew heavier by the minute, so she hitched it further onto her shoulder and maneuvered around bags and feet until she reached the table and sat down with a grateful sigh.
Ten minutes later she stood up and strode over to the Charms section. As she passed Madam Pince's desk, she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head she saw only a sea of focused students bent over books or whispering to each other. Shaking her head, she continued on to find her books.
When she returned to the table, clutching several volumes under her arm, a splash of purple stood out against the table's polished wood surface. As she drew closer, she recognized a foxglove splayed out across her Charms essay. A few bright grains of pollen sprinkled the parchment; when she picked up the flower, one tiny petal fell off and fluttered down onto the floor. Several sprigs of lavender were twined around the stem, filling the air with its distinct, herbal scent.
She whipped her head around, sending another petal flying, but there was no sign of Severus. Sneaky arsehole.
"I'm not going to reconsider my choices," she said, a stubborn note in her voice as she dropped the flowers onto the table. "Mind your business," she snapped at the table of staring Ravenclaws beside her, before she Vanished the flowers and sank back into her chair.
"Hi," James said a few minutes later, startling her from her whirling thoughts of flowers and Severus's soft voice and sneering smile.
She pulled him in for a kiss, clinging to him and breathing in the familiar, clean scent of his hair.
"It's nice to see you too," he said, flashing her that easy grin."Hey, what's this?" He pointed to the pollen smeared across her essay.
"Oh." She froze, staring down at the yellow streak as her heart pounded and an unexplainable guilt made her limbs heavy. "I dunno. I think Sirius spilled something on it."
"Sounds about right. Messy git," James said, an affectionate tone in his voice as he pointed his wand at the pollen and siphoned it away until only a faint yellow tint remained. "Now, I'm going to need some help with this, because I wasn't really listening when Flitwick explained it. I was too busy staring at the cute redhead sitting in front of me…"
A light snow fell outside as Lily stood in front of the window, watching the guests make their way to the enormous tent that had been erected across the vast expanse of the Potter's Quidditch pitch. Fairy lights lined the path and hovered in the air, casting a romantic glow over the guests as they shivered in their dress robes. Lily watched for another moment, then turned away, intending to pour herself a glass of the champagne Mary had brought up "in case of sudden, unexpected thirst." Before she could remove the cork, however, there was a tap on the window, and she hurried over to admit a small, tawny owl.
"Who's cancelled last minute?" she murmured, searching for a letter expressing half-hearted regrets.
Except there was no letter. Instead, there was a vibrant bouquet of pink oleanders and azaleas tied to the owl's leg. Despite the steady snow falling outside, there was not a single snowflake marring the flowers' bright petals. Hands shaking, Lily reached for the bouquet and searched for a note, although she knew there wouldn't be one. The flowers themselves sent a clear message.
Lily pictured the page in her old book on the language of flowers. Oleander and azalea, the heading read, below an illustration of a flowering bush. When paired together, they warn someone they are about to make a poor choice.
Both poisonous, too, she mused, tracing her finger along an oleander petal. Fitting.
Frowning, she noticed another flower tucked among the bright pink blooms. She moved a spray of oleanders aside to reveal a single red tulip.
A declaration of love, she thought, staring at the red petals. Juxtaposed against her white dress, they looked like drops of blood. She didn't move – didn't breathe. A gust of snowy wind rushed in through the open window, but she made no move to close it. That red tulip taunted her as thoughts swirled around her head, faster and faster until she sank down onto the bed with a rustle of tulle.
Sev loves me, she thought, her eyes fixed on that red tulip. All this time and he never told me…
The image of another bouquet flashed into her mind: hyacinths and pansies and a pink bloom she hadn't recognized. It's moss rosebud, Sev had said, a rare hint of sadness in his voice as he stared at the torn petals. In her fury Lily had forgotten the meaning of that particular flower, but now it came to her in perfect, startling clarity: Confession of love.
Other memories flooded her mind, spinning and tumbling around until she pressed her hands against her eyes, smearing the makeup Mary had applied with painstaking care. Sev grabbing her hand when she slipped on a patch of ice and holding it just a moment longer than necessary. His fingers clenching around his fork when James climbed up onto the house table during lunch to ask her out. The color draining from his face the first time he saw James holding her hand. A brief glimpse of his eyes through air thick with spells at that battle outside of Hogsmeade.
There was a soft hoot, and she realized the owl was still there, perched on the window sill as it awaited her response. I should send him back a flower, she thought, gazing down at the red tulip, but she couldn't remember a single entry in the language of flowers book that even began to convey the tangle of emotions weighing down her chest. There's no flower that flower says, "Thanks for thinking of me, but I don't feel the same, and even though I miss being friends with you, I can't look past your involvement with a group of murderous arseholes who've tried to kill me on multiple occasions."
A brisk knock jarred her from her thoughts, and the bouquet tumbled from her hands and onto the duvet. Before she had time to hide them, or toss them out the window, or calm her pounding heart, Sirius stepped through the door, wearing his dress robes and bringing with him a faint whiff of cigarette smoke.
"Aww, Evans, you look so nice," he said, striding over and running a finger along the beaded sleeves of her dress. "Not as nice as me, obviously, but Prongs will love it." He frowned and looked around the room. "Where's Macdonald? I wanted to have a look at her low-cut bridesmaid dress."
"She went to find Moony," she said, her voice faint and breathless. "Something about… I dunno, actually, I wasn't really listening."
He sat down beside her and picked up the bouquet. "Is this your bouquet? It's pink. I thought you didn't want to see another pink flower again after your sister's wedding."
"It's not my bouquet." Her voice had the same faraway, airy tone. "Someone, er, sent it. As a wedding gift."
"Oh, alright." He conjured a vase full of water and settled the flowers in it, then placed it on the dresser next to the window. "You want a cigarette? Window's already open, so we might as well."
They sat side-by-side on the bed, smoking as more snow drifted in through the open window and Lily shivered in her thin, lacey dress.
"You're getting married today," he said, bumping his shoulder into hers. "That's mad, you know that? Absolutely fucking mad."
His breath smelled of firewhisky, and a smile spread slowly across her face. "Padfoot, are you drunk?"
He widened his eyes in mock-indignation. "Evans, would I risk being intoxicated on such an important day?"
She held out her hand. "Don't be selfish. Hand it over. I'm the bride – you've got to listen to the bride."
"Moony's got my flask," he said after checking both pockets and coming up empty. "He and Macdonald are probably finishing it off right now. But hey, you've got champagne!"
He Summoned the bottle and offered it to her. The bubbles fizzed in her throat, drowning out the confused emotions brought on by that one little tulip.
"Evans," Sirius said, slinging an arm around her and dropping a bit of ash onto her dress, "are you sure you want to marry Prongs?"
She choked on her mouthful of champagne and dropped her cigarette. "What?" she spluttered, stooping to retrieve the cigarette before it burnt a hole in the rug. "Why wouldn't I be sure?"
He grinned and brushed the ash from her dress. "I mean, you've seen his hair, right?"
Her shoulders sagged with relief. "Oh, shut up," she muttered before taking a deep drag on her cigarette.
"I'm only joking. I'm really happy for you two." He took a swig of champagne and tilted his head sideways to look at her. "I always knew it would be you."
She thought about the earnest hope glinting through the bravado every time James had asked her out, the way his body enveloped hers when they hugged, the slow circles he traced on her back as she drifted off to sleep, the terror on his face when he had jumped in front of her to protect her from a Death Eater's spell.
"Me too," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.
She shivered, and Sirius waved his wand to shut the window with a snap. Lily's eyes traveled around the room, taking in the small pile of snow on the floor and the vivid colors of the bouquet on the dresser. It was growing darker outside, but the fairy lights twinkled brighter than ever. She took a long drag on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a long, thin stream.
The owl was gone.