-3-

Nighttime. The eeriest time at Spinner's End. The rusty windmill of the Kaisers' Factory heaved and groaned with the sudden nocturnal gust, which brought with it the smell of the dirty river behind the factory. It wasn't actually a river, so much as a canal meant for the paint residues of Kaisers'. Empty metallic tin cans,

fish spines and paper wrappings mingled with grease, sludge and dead animals. The brownstone houses slept, awaiting morning. Only I stayed up, gazing out of my window into the distant woods.

I had not summoned the courage to tell Maman, Father (heaven forbid, Petunia) or ANYONE about my…what? Abnormality? It was a bit scary, albeit interesting to have a flower, a lily sprouting on my palm. Or even to give my elder sister a licking when she needed it- and to get away with it. (seriously, they couldn't have believed I did it with my eyes, did they?) But wasn't it unusual? Wasn't it well-freaky? I decided it would be my secret. But before that, I needed to make sure that it was real. That it was not an illusion, a lovely dream. Or a coincidence, as Petunia would say. I shivered in the dark to think of what she would do if she found out my secret. ("YOU'RE A FREAK!")Oh, well. Here she was, snoring beside me.

I threw off my bedcovers and stood barefoot on the cold floor, shivering a little. Closed my eyes. Waited.

Slowly, very slowly, a steady warmth filled my fist. Through the gaps between my fingers, I detected an orange glow. I opened my fist taking care not to scream, not to get blown away by the enormity of it all.

A small flame, a flame, was crackling on my palm. It did not scorch me; it felt rather like sipping hot chocolate slowly. A lovely, warm feeling spread through my veins, neither the burning brilliance like I had felt in the morning, nor the hesitant coolness I witnessed in the woods at noon… but comforting, satisfying. Like perhaps the first rays of the sun or the warmth of the fireplace at winter.

I felt I was capable of miracles.

Somewhere, a shutter flicked. A fox scampered down the river, looking hungry.

And then, I saw it. Saw something which filled me with dread.

Someone was watching me. Someone at the window by the street. Whoever it was had seen the flame on my palm all too clearly. Before I had the time to duck, the person had gone and the blinds were drawn. I felt like I had swallowed a rock. My secret was exposed-or was it? Had the person been able to believe his eyes? Petunia wouldn't, I knew that. Then again, she wasn't the best example of human behavior I knew of.

Ransacked with fear and at the same time, an expectant thrill at the second miracle, I returned to my bed, forcing out all dreams for the night.

When the bell rang for the day, I didn't wait, heading straight for the woods. I ran into the welcoming green shadows, not stopping till I reached the brook. I removed my shoes, wading into the gurgling water, at home with the woods and the life they harbored within.

As I came out of the water, heading for my favorite rock, I spotted a cluster of flowers with long petals, chalice-shaped, still half-closed. Madonna's cups. Brilliant. I took a look around, not really expecting anyone, just for good measure.

Open, I ordered the flowers noiselessly, the imperative coming from my head. Open up now.

There wasn't a breath of wind, yet as I watched, delighted, the flowers swayed as though in dance and began unfurling steadily. Then, in fascinating coordination with the movement of my eyes, they began furling again.

"It's hurting them. Please stop that."

I spun around, heart plummeting. For a dreadful second, I thought it was Petunia. But then I realized that Petunia couldn't care less for flowers' feelings, and anyway the voice was that of a boy…so it wasn't she. I spun around, looking for the unknown speaker.

"I'm here, before you."

I turned back again and gave a gasp. There was a little clearing near the juniper cluster, and beneath it sat a young boy, nine or ten like me. He was very pale, with dark hair and even darker eyes and stood about a head taller than me. He had probably been there for a long time, I had not noticed him.

"Did you-" I stopped, half-afraid of revealing more than was intended. "Did you see what I did?"

"Yes", he replied. There was a rather awkward pause during which we simply stared at each other, and I wondered whether he was mad or dangerous or simply stupid to realize what had happened. Then I realized he probably felt the same about me. "I saw you yesterday too. You…you are not, well, normal."

I stared at him stupidly, understanding, not understanding. "It was you I saw yesterday!" I gasped. The face at the window! Of course. It had been silly to forget it. I looked at him again, at his sallow face and black eyes. If I hadn't been able to spot him in the blazing light of noon, it was highly unlikely that I would do so at nighttime.

He flushed right to the roots of his hair, looking abashed. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to pry. I was just…well, you know-watching-I-I –mean that I was just looking out of my window when I saw you. It was in that way. And then I saw the f-flame and it was absolutely-absolutely fabulous. Which is why I came to meet you, in the-" he looked up at the trees above my head-"in this place. To tell you that I liked you."

"Sorry?" I said.

He became even redder and looked at his toes. "Liked your work I mean. It was amazing, very beautiful and-and-and I was delighted to watch it. And there you have it," he finished triumphantly.

I smiled. "Really?" This was better, much better than my parents' reaction, ("It's high time she paid attention to studies. Her imagination's wild") or Petunia's. ("FREAK!") At least someone knew what I could do… and well, liked me for it.

"Really". He smiled; nothing forced or tolerant about it.

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed. "I can do tons of other things, I can grow flowers on my palm, if I get angry, a force within me comes gushing out, I even see horses, winged horses at night. I can show you, but you must promise not to tell my elder sister, Petunia's her name, she's the biggest tell-tale you have ever…."

"It's nice to meet you too. My name's Severus. I live down the street from your house. Number 37. With my-um- parents."

I looked at his grinning face and feeling a bit embarrassed held out my hand. "Lily. Drop in any time if you're bored…you're new, aren't you?"

Some of his initial embarrassment returned. "Yes."

We walked along the path to the back of my house. As I reached our garden-gate, I turned around. "Maman-that's my mother-she would like to meet you. She saw your mother at the market but didn't get to talk."

He looked a bit uncomfortable, but smiled. "Thanks, but I would rather leave. My parents are-well-they're expecting me. Maybe some other time. " he looked longingly at our house.

"We'll tell them you were with us. No big deal."

"No really, I must leave."

"Well, if you have to." I pushed the gate open and walked in.

As I went up the steps he backed, smiling. "Bye, Lily. It's been, well, nice knowing you. Haven't met many people who are like you…not normal."

"You make it sound as though I'm abnormal," I said frowning a little.

"And you make it sound as though being so is a bad thing."

And then he was gone the way he had come, down the leafy path.

"He sounds nice," Maman said, over supper that night. "A bit peculiar, but nice."

"He's too," I said pondering upon this newfound discovery. "What's the last name, again?"

"Snape-and that's the fifth time, young lady," Father observed.

"You should be more careful," sneered Petunia. What kind of a girlfriend forgets her lover's…-?"

"Petunia, for heaven's sake, honey, don't do that," Maman said.

"What guy falls for me when beauties like you're around, sister?" I asked sweetly.

Petunia, snickering, shut up. I looked out of the window. I didn't mind her anymore. I had a friend, who liked me not in spite of my freakishness, but because of it. And I was determined to meet him again. Perhaps in the woods. Perhaps at my place, or maybe even his.

But little did I know how I'd meet Severus Snape the next time.