Summary: One last petal on the flower. But do I dare pick it?
Lily Evans was sitting under her favourite tree, twirling a yellow daisy in her left hand. This simple flower held so much meaning, yet none at all. After what seemed like a century, Lily pulled on the first petal.
“I love him,” she murmured. The bright yellow petal flew out of her hand, and was carried by the wind. She watched as it danced from her view.
“I love him not,” she whispered as she plucked the second petal. The second petal was thrown from her hand, and it landed on the nearby lake. It looked like a little yellow boat as it sailed away. Lily shivered, her body suddenly realising it was cold. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let the wind chase her inside. Her hand hovered over the flower, before she yanked out the third petal.
“I love him.” The third petal fell onto her lap. It was such a contrast against the black of the Hogwarts robes. She lightly brushed it away, and watched as it hit the damp grass.
A sigh escaped her lips. Sitting here was like another world. A world without conflict, animosity, terror and love, but this one single flower, with its six remaining petals, brought the love back into her little world. Lily could remember times when she was a little girl. She would sit in the sun picking daisies and murmuring ‘he loves me…he loves me not…’ always wishing that she would one day find this person she was hoping loved her. Now it was the other way around. She knew he loved her, he had even said so. And she knew it was true. That was what scared her most. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for love, to love. So now she was sitting under her favourite tree, picking peals off an innocent flower. Slowly watching the petals disappear, then going onto the next one. Not realising what it meant every time she plucked a little, seemingly, unimportant yellow petal.
The fourth petal left her hand as she said, “I love him not.” The petal floated on the warm air she expelled, then fell into the cold harshness off the world once again. Her emerald eyes took a look at the flower she held in her hand. It looked dilapidated with its four missing petals. For a split second she wished she could take it all back, for all the petals to be back on the flower, for the flower to still be growing in the ground, the last remaining daisy of the summer. Then her mind fast forwarded again and the flower looked nothing more than a yellow daisy with four petals missing.
“I love him,” the fifth petal slid over her fingertips before the wind picked it up and took it on the rest of its journey.
The stark yellow of the daisy seemed to represent something that was missing in the cold harsh world. Everywhere she looked everything was cold and grey. The lake was taking its autumn look, the trees were shedding their leaves and Hogwarts just seemed like a grey blob on a grey picture. It seemed as if there was only one bright thing in the picture, and she was holding it in her hand.
“I love him not,” the sixth petal left its companions, and there were only three. Lily’s breathing increased as she noticed how many petals were left, it only seemed a minute ago that the flower was complete, and that she was just twirling it in her hands. Now it was nearly gone. The beauty of the flower disappearing with each petal she removed. Now it just looked like a flower that some idiot had kicked.
“I love him,” she sighed. She held the petal in her hand and admired it from every angle, before blowing it out of her reach, just as she had done when making a wish on the last petal back in her mother’s garden. Only two remained. Two single petals that meant everything, on an otherwise meaningless flower.
“I love him not.” The eighth petal was plucked. It didn’t have as much meaning as the last one, one of them did, but if you thought about it, they all could have been the last one. The one with so much meaning, the one that seemed to have all the usefulness was merely chosen at random. It was chosen by the first petal that was plucked.
Lily knew what the last petal would mean. He hand hovered over the dejected flower, uncertain of its purpose. Lily knew that if she pulled it, she would have to make a wish in its favour. But she wasn’t sure if she could. She wasn’t sure if she should. The once simple flower now held so much. Lily wanted to love him back. But love is such a strong emotion, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready. Her fingers held onto the last remaining petal. Time seemed to stand still while she was making her decision. The trees weren’t moving, there was no chill in the air, was it harder to breathe? Her right hand fell, and with that simple movement, everything else seemed to come back to life. The petal was still on the flower, and it was moving in the wind.
Lily’s eyes filled with tears. She desperately wanted to love him, wanted to so much. But it seemed impossible, but if she made a wish on that last petal, then it could happen, one day. But still she couldn’t do it. Her hand disappeared inside her cloak, and reappeared holding her wand. She pointed it at the flower and a blue light surrounded the flower. Now it would live for as long as she did. Or until the last petal was picked.
~Three years later~
Lily was pacing her dressing room, wearing a glorious white dress. She was about to get married, but she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. She looked at the flower in her hand, one yellow petal hung on. Her white gloved hand held onto the petal. Just looking at it made her realise that it was meant to be, she was supposed to marry and to love him. She pushed the flower into her bouquet. It seemed so insignificant, compared to the white and yellow roses.
As she stood waiting for her cue, she pulled out the remaining petal, brought it to her lips and whispered her wish; she then blew it into the air as her cue came. She looked down at the now dead flower and laughed. It seemed so silly to have kept the flower for so long, for her to be making a wish on it. The she looked up at her soon-to-be-husband and realised, the last petal should have been picked long ago.
A/N: I hope you like this. I just got an inspiration to do this story, so here it is. Hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review, even if you didn’t like it. I need criticism if I want to improve my stories. Thanks.