The quiet humming of the dishwasher made a soothing background noise as Petunia Dursley surveyed her kitchen with a practiced eye. She always enjoyed this time of day; breakfast was over, the kitchen was cleared; and she had the house to herself. Dudley was off with his friends, Vernon was at work and Harry was wherever he slouches off to these days; Petunia didn't bother to ask.

Her smile faded a bit as she thought of her nephew. Ever since he went off to that…place, he'd become more and more insolent and headstrong. Each summer he reminded Petunia more and more of…she cut that thought off and set to work hoovering her carpets with vigor; as if the sweeper could erase the disturbing thoughts of her nephew. He'd been a thorn in her side ever since that crazy man left him on her doorstep, all those years ago, and at sixteen years old, continued to plague her.

Petunia couldn't understand why Harry didn't see how abnormal he was. How could he stand being so different? Just like his mother, Petunia thought, so enchanted with her own specialness she couldn't understand that she was, well, wrong.

"Oh, come on Petunia," Lily had said the one time Petunia confronted her with this wrongness. "Don't tell me you don't wish like crazy you were a witch as well."

Well, not a bit. Petunia liked her life. She may not have magical powers, and she may not have the glamorous career she'd once dreamed of, but she had a nice home, a wonderful, talented son and a husband who cared for her and gave her all the comforts one could wish for. Who needs magic tricks when she had the nicest home on Privet Drive?

Besides, magic didn't do Lily any good at the finish. Petunia had a good car, vacations abroad, stylish clothes, and what did Lily end up with? A short life spent running from some evil wizard and a violent death. Petunia didn't envy Lily one bit, no matter what Lily thought to the contrary.

Before their mother died, she often chided Petunia for not keeping in contact with Lily, saddened that her two daughters had grown so far apart, but Petunia knew it wasn't her fault. Lily was the one who pulled away first. Once Petunia made a real effort to understand what Lily did at that school, but all Lily said was 'you wouldn't understand.' Later, Petunia sneaked a look at one of Lily's books, and had to agree. The book was full of things that looked like recipes, but called for things she'd never even heard of, and make-believe sounding things like unicorn hair. It was ridiculous. It was, Petunia concluded, a silly way to live.

No, Petunia thought as she dusted around the knick-knacks and straightened the pillows on the sofa. She was right to keep Lily out of her life. She was glad when Lily left home and married that boy, and wasn't sorry that she refused the invitation to attend the wedding. She and Vernon had just gotten engaged themselves, and she knew he wouldn't appreciate being exposed to that sort of lifestyle.

"So, don't bring him," Lily coaxed the day before the wedding, "Come alone. James has several single friends, I'm sure they would be happy to dance with you." Like Petunia needed pity dances from weirdoes, and she said as much to her sister. That had sparked a row, and when Lily left the next day, Petunia didn't even say goodbye.

The downstairs tidied, Petunia went upstairs to make up the beds and clear away all the dishes Dudley left in his room. She'd taken to allowing him some snacks after dinner; after all he was boxing now and really needed to keep up his strength. She knew some people thought she indulged Dudley too much, but they didn't understand how much he meant to her. He was her greatest achievement, tangible evidence of her life. She had been terrified he would be like Harry, and was thoroughly relieved when he grew up to be every inch Vernon's son.

She made up the bed in her room then hesitated outside of Harry's door. She didn't often go in there, but the room hadn't been cleaned in weeks, and the thought of any room in her house being untidy nagged at her mind, so she went in.

To her surprise, Harry had kept the room fairly clean. An empty cage was by the window, the owl out doing whatever it was it did, and his school trunk was tucked off into the corner.

It looked to Petunia that Harry planned on leaving soon, because the trunk was open and full of his things. The outlet was next to the trunk and as she leaned over to plug in the sweeper, a leather-bound book caught her eye. She wondered if it was one of his school books, and after a moment of indecision curiosity won, and she decided to take a peek.

She opened the book then nearly dropped it in shock. It was like a photo album, but the photos were moving. Magic photos. Petunia was about to shut the book again in disgust when she realized who the photos were of.

Lily.

The first photo was one of Lily at what Petunia assumed was school, since she was dressed in black robes and wearing a pointed hat. She was standing in front of a large lake and was surrounded by a group of girls who were all grinning and pulling faces and waving wildly at the camera. Petunia could see the laughter in Lily's eyes as she grinned across the years at her sister.

Petunia flipped through page after page, staring at the moving, living images of her sister. There were several photos of Lily and James on their wedding day, James looking handsome and proud, Lily so full of joy, while their friends danced and cheered around them. Then there were photos of a beaming Lily holding a newborn Harry and of the three of them front of their home, James' arm wrapped lovingly around Lily while Lily made silly faces at baby Harry, who was obviously laughing.

Every page showed a Lily that Petunia didn't know. Every page held a moment in Lily's life that Petunia held no part of. Petunia thought it was horrible. How could Harry stand to have that book near him? How could he stand looking at Lily, so vibrant and alive, not knowing that her life was to end so abruptly? How could he stand it?

As she stared at her sister's smiling face, Petunia wondered if Lily ever missed her. She went back through all the photographs, looking for some sign, some trace of regret on Lily's face, some evidence that Lily had a sister who…

"Aunt Petunia?"

Harry was standing in the doorway, his face registering surprise at seeing his aunt sitting in a very undignified manner on the floor of his bedroom. Embarrassed, Petunia leapt to her feet, saying gruffly, "You know better than to leave your stuff lying around. If Vernon sees it he will be very upset."

She expected Harry to argue, or accuse her of spying; but to her surprise he only nodded and said "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

It wasn't until she caught sight of her face in the mirror a few minutes later that she realized she'd been crying. "Silliness," she told herself sternly. She and Lily lost touch with each other long ago; there was no point in regretting it now.

Harry left that evening; to the general relief of the Dursleys. Petunia especially wasn't sorry to see him go. He was too much like his mother for her comfort. He brought back too many memories.

The next morning as Petunia bustled into the kitchen to start breakfast, she noticed an envelope with her name on it sitting on the window sill. She opened it cautiously, worrying it was another warning from that Dumblebee person, but it wasn't.

Inside was a photo of a smiling Lily standing by a lake, waving gaily at the camera and blowing exaggerated kisses. Her green eyes full of joy and hope and; youth and promises still to be made. On the back of the photograph Harry had written, "I thought you might like this photo of your sister."

Petunia stood in her spotless kitchen smiling into the face of her sister until a noise from upstairs reminded her that her boys would be coming down soon, and expecting breakfast. She hastily stuffed the photo in the pages of one of her cookery books and was in the middle of frying some eggs when Vernon and Dudley came into the room.

Petunia liked her life, and she knew there was just no room for people like Lily in it. She had made her choice, and she wasn't sorry.

Not sorry at all.