Envenomed Petals

Let It Go

-I-

A soft smile crosses her lips as she dusts the soot off her jeans before stepping out of the fireplace, and she stifles a yawn. She's not really accustomed to waking this early, but if it's to help her boyfriend then she doesn't really mind. Of course, any excuse to not have to go to a Chudley Cannons match with the rest of her family is a plus, because as much as she might love her Uncle Ron, and adore the sport, she just isn't a fan of self-harm.

It's a little known fact, of course, that for a Quidditch lover, there's no greater torture that watching the Canons play, no matter what her Uncle Ron claims.

"Thanks for coming, Lily," says Hermione, rising from the couch with a bright, if slightly haggard, smile on her face.

"Thank you for giving me an excuse to not sit through six hours of the Cannons getting thrashed to the bottom of the League, Aunt Hermione."

Over the years she's come to understand that the only reason Aunt Hermione even goes to these Quidditch matches is because someone has to keep Uncle Draco in line. Not that he's a Cannons supporter, mind you, it just always seems as though he enjoys goading Uncle Ron a bit too much for comfort.

"You know how it is, honey." Hermione rolls her eyes. "Draco and Ron spend the match bickering, and Harry gets stuck in the middle. I swear, Ginny, Lavender, and I are more like their referees than their wives when the broomsticks come out."

"Cass and I feel the same way whenever the boys decide to play," she laughs in response, "They just don't like admitting we're much better fliers than they are."

"Speak for yourself," chuckles Hermione, gathering her coat and bag and making for the fireplace. "I haven't gotten on a broom since Hogwarts, and that was over twenty years ago."

Still chuckling, the older woman is about to toss a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace when she pauses, a more serious look falling over her face as she glances over her shoulder. "If you'd be a dear, could you talk to Cass? She says she's got her monthly, and that's why she can't join us at the match, but I could swear she just had it two weeks ago. I don't really want to pry . . . but you girls are at that age where you're more comfortable with each other than with your aging mothers."

"You're just like Mum, Aunt Hermione," she replies, "You two will never be old. And sure, I'll talk to her."

"Tell that to my grey hair," says Hermione with a smile, stepping into the fireplace and waving as she Floos to Grimmauld.

Lily sighs in relief. As much as she loves her honorary aunt, it's a lot more uncomfortable for her to be as candid as she used to be now that she's seeing Scorpius. Romance always makes things uncomfortable with the parents, especially the ones that don't want to accept that their kids are growing up.

Deciding to check on Cassiopeia and at least make an attempt at finding out what was wrong – she had a sneaking suspicion, one that's enforced by the knowledge that Albus isn't at the match either – but she hopes she's wrong, if only to spare her eyes the mental torture.

Unlike her chaste romance with Scorpius, Albus and Cassiopeia seem to be a much more physical couple, and she wonders how they've kept that aspect hidden from her boyfriend for so long. Knowing Scor, he's bound to flip his lid when he finds out his best friend not only snogs his sister, but also shags her nine ways to Sunday.

Not that Cassiopeia complains mind you – it's gotten to the point where Lily's been forced to outlaw any form of girl-talk in her social circle, mostly because for some reason, all her friend's are involved with her brothers or cousins.

Clenching her teeth, she knocks, and when all she hears is a muffled groan, she quietly pushes open the door.

She slams it shut seconds later, her eyes burning hotter than her cheeks as she clutches at her chest, and she fights down the urge to scream. Scorpius is just three bedrooms away, horribly unwell, and it would never do to disturb him.

Albus . . . she's just seen more of her brother than she's ever wanted too, and she wishes she'd just screamed through the door rather than taking the chance of walking in. Just as she's about to walk away and pretend like it's never happened, the door swings opened, and an annoyed looking Cassiopeia sticks her head into the passage.

"What?" she snaps, glaring, and Lily tries to ignore the mussed-up sex hair, and the hickeys disappearing down the neckline of her dressing gown.

"Your mother asked me to check why you weren't going," she answers hurriedly, "I didn't think you'd really be doing that so early. Albus can't have been here for more than an hour."

"Honestly, Mum worries too much," sighs Cass, still looking annoyed, "Patient Zero is in his room, so could you go bother my brother whilst I do yours?"

"Did not need to know that, Cassie," she yelps.

"You already saw my knickers in his mouth." Cassiopeia rolled her eyes, "Don't look at me like that. He's a screamer, and Merlin knows my Silencing Charms are too weak to keep his voice down. Anyway, brother, down the hall, go."

The door slams in her face, and she feels traumatised, shuddering as she makes her way to Scorpius' room.

"No, Lily, of course we understand your friends are off limits," she mutters under her breath, thinking sourly of the conversation she had with her brothers when Alison and Cassiopeia first expressed interest in them. Sighing, and realising that she's going to have to put stinging jinxes on their boxers again, she pushes open Scor's bedroom door.

Unlike the rest of them, Scor hates taking his yearly potions, and whilst Aunt Hermione often makes him take them in front of her . . . she's been a little lax this year. So, understandably, her idiot boyfriend had simply poured them down the drain, and promptly caught a bug.

"Lily," he exclaims, looking up in surprise and yanking the sheets up to his throat. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't your mother tell you she asked me to play Healer?" Inwardly, she cringes at the sight of him, because it pains her to see him so subdued. A low groan escapes his lips, and he clutches at his stomach, a grimace etching itself across his face. Setting her handbag on his bedside table, she perches on the edge of the bed.

"She probably thought it would be a nice surprise," mutters Scorpius, his voice somewhat thick, and she nods, her eyes somehow missing the way he keeps shifting uncomfortably.

Noticing the gleam of sweat on his cheeks and forehead, she extends her hand to check his temperature, eyes widening as her cool skin comes into contact with his burning flesh. She's surprised that he's not in St. Mungo's with a fever this high, but then again, Aunt Hermione must know what she's doing.

"You're burning up," she says, "I think you need to get rid of that blanket."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Nonsense," she overrides him, letting generations of matronly instinct manifest within her, and with the same formidable nature she's witnessed in Nana Molly, and Mum, she yanks off the blanket.

Scorpius howls, and her eyes widen like saucers. She knows she needs to look away . . . but her eyes are almost glued to her boyfriend's body. The lithe muscles from years of Quidditch, the slender trail of blond hair running from his navel to his groin. He scrabbles, grabbing a pillow and pressing it between his legs, though not before she's gotten a good eyeful, and glares at her.

"You're naked," Lily mutters, still not able to look away.

"No, my clothes just turned invisible," snaps Scorpius, his tone dry and biting.

Ignoring his sass, she finally realises that she should give him his privacy, and clearing her throat she turns away, closing her eyes. She hears him rolling out of bed, followed by the sound of a closet being pulled open, and she opens her eyes, not turning around just yet.

And because Salazar, Rowena, Helga, and Godric all hate her, she's staring into a mirror, and the first thing she sees is her boyfriend's surprisingly well-shaped butt. Damn, but she could probably stare at it all day.

Shaking herself, and hurriedly shutting her eyes again, she calls, "Are you decent?"

"Almost," grumbles Scorpius, and she almost wants to slap herself, because she can hear how weak he is in his voice alone as he moves around the room. A few minutes later, he tells her she can turn around again, and she swallows, an apologetic look on her face as she returns to her perch on the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry about that," she whispers, the first shreds of mortification beginning to creep into her as the shock begins to dissipate. His cheeks are red as he looks up at from the bed, wearing a loose pair of shorts and a vest.

"It's fine," he mumbles, "I just think your bedside manner could use some work."

She rolls her eyes, thankful that he's joking about the incident, because she knows that had their roles been reversed, she'd have jinxed him out the door. She climbs into his bed and opens her handbag, extricating the flask of her mother's famous chicken soup and setting it on the bedside table.

Filling the plastic serving cup with it, she holds it to his lips, and as he drinks, she finally plucks up her courage to ask.

"What in Merlin's name possessed you to lie around in the nude, though?" she asks, "Is your bed safe for me to be sitting on, or where you getting in touch with yourself?"

"I was feeling really hot," he begins, ignoring her teasing.

"Well, you are hot," she lets slip, blushing as he raises an eyebrow.

"My fever, Lily, not my looks," he corrects. "And I didn't know you were coming, so you know, I cooled off. Can we please just let this go?"

"You're an idiot," she laughs as she sets the empty cup aside, leaning in to kiss him before refilling.

"You really don't want to kiss me right now, Lilz," he says, "Your potions won't keep you that safe if your tongue gets covered in germs."

"I'll take that risk."

"The fever makes you feel like you're melting."

"Some people are worth melting for," she whispers, pressing her lips to his. "Who knows?" she adds, when she pulls away for air, "Maybe you'll get a chance to sneak a peek when I get sick."

(Six months later, Scorpius decides to spend a weekend with the Potters. When he inevitably, and accidently, walks into her in the shower . . . well, she's been making improvements to the Bat Bogey Hex for years, hasn't she?)