A/N: Written for the Acrostic-y Challenge, Chapter 2, "l" – Little Red Flower.

Little Red Flower

Lily's hair was only one of the things Petunia envied. Its gentle curls escaped her own straggly locks. Its brush-red devoured her twig-like brown, and the way it danced effortlessly on the wind defeated her ever-tangling strands.

Petunia brushed it gently in their youth, from an older sister to the younger one. Lily would rarely stay still; she was a bundle of energy and tumbling all over long before she'd learnt of gravity and the strength of her legs. Before she could walk, she'd be dragging her belly on the rug while Petunia chased her with the comb, promising sweet bed time stories.

Petunia didn't mind it so much back then, because neither of them were perfect and both of them got their fair share of their parents' attention. Occasionally, she'd sulk because she had plans that the baby upheaved – whether that was because Petunia had to cancel to stay home and babysit, or some other reason that ultimately came back to the too-energetic child – or Lily would wail because Petunia could do things she couldn't, had things she didn't. Lily's hair might be the pride of the Evans family and Petunia may have failed to inherit it, but she had brains and got good marks and wasn't afraid to flaunt them in front of her baby sister.

That was before Lily started going to school and playing catch-up. Before Lily eclipsed every accomplishment Petunia had ever made, and her only condolence was that she had done them first. And she was still better; she proved it time and time again when they fought, and Lily would rage silently before forcing a smile on her face.

But soon Lily beat her too, beat her by pushing the rules they lived in, pushing the boundaries that had formed. She didn't break them per say – it wasn't against the rules to do sums on a calculator instead of by hand – but she took full advantage of their slips. Petunia didn't like that, didn't like how Lily seemed to sparkle even more, how her hair literally tangoed with the summer gales. Especially when she was bouncing up the driveway with another sticker to show, or swinging higher than their parents let them go.

Lily was breaking that rule. Petunia told her, but Lily laughed and prodded and teased and Petunia could only envy the fact that she was still tied by those rules.

Lily was running out of things to envy about Petunia, and Petunia was running out of counter-balances. Lily proved herself smarter, scoring higher in tests and assignments Petunia had been proud of years before. She was prettier too – she'd always been prettier. And more popular. The only leads Petunia still had were age, lack of detentions and the snivelling boy that no-one else associated with. Even Lily's dreams were bigger; she really believed she could make flowers rise out of ash, while Petunia could only imagine it.

But then Lily took the boy and made him a wizard out of a fairytale, and Petunia was left behind. Lily did have magic, real magic, that made flowers grow out of ash and her body fly through the sky without wings, hair fluttering freer than it had ever been before –

And it just wasn't fair that Petunia could never have that, any of that. Lily was the vivacious rose in the Evans' garden, while she was just a wilted bulb that had never reached full bloom.