A/N: Written by Chaser 1 of Montrose Magpies for the QLFC Semi-finals.
Prompt: CHASER 1: An angsty story using the prompt 'love' (emotion)
Optional prompts: (word) kindness; (song) Behind These Hazel Eyes - Kelly Clarkson; (word) lovely
Thank you to Fai's smile and Cookies-and-Ink for betaing this for me.
I've gone a little AU at times, particularly in relation to the first meeting between Petunia and James.
Word count: 1912
Seven years old
Petunia has always known that Lily is special. Their parents say that everyone is in their own way — just like how no two snowflakes are the same — but this is different. It's like seeing a mountain for the first time and realising that all of the hills that once seemed so tall are really just piles of dirt in comparison. This isn't about everyone having their own personalities or strengths or interests; this is so much bigger than that.
For years, she has tried to ignore it, telling herself that it's just her imagination or a trick of the light. After all, who would believe that an ordinary little girl from Cokeworth could hover in the air or move things with her mind? This isn't one of the stories their parents read them each night before they fall asleep, where fairies and elves hold grand balls while the humans slumber. This is real life, and in real life, magic just doesn't exist.
Except it's hard to believe that when she has seen her sister do the impossible with her own eyes. In fact, sometimes, Petunia wonders if she secretly is a fairy. Maybe her world has books and stories too, and maybe one of them is about Petunia, and maybe Lily enjoyed it so much that she ran away from home so she could live with Petunia instead.
So whenever Lily slips up and does her fairy magic in public, Petunia does her best to cover for her. It isn't easy, and it gets her in trouble on more than one occasion; she can't even count the number of broken teacups she takes credit for over the next few years. But it's worth it. The kids at school would bully Lily relentlessly if they found out what she could do, and Petunia refuses to let that happen.
She wishes she could be a fairy too, but even if she can't, she can at least make sure Lily is safe.
And maybe, just maybe, that will make Petunia special as well. In her own way.
-x-
Thirteen years old
Once Lily leaves, all Petunia feels is devastation and emptiness. The girls used to dream about the idea of boarding school when they were little, but they never thought that only one of them would go. It was always neither of them or both of them, standing together wherever they were.
Together, they were unbreakable.
But then her sister met that boy, and everything changed: their relationship, their hopes, and even Lily herself. Since then, the younger girl has been spending less time with Petunia and more time with him, desperate to hear more about the strange world they are destined for.
The worst part is that, for one brilliant, shimmering moment, Petunia thought she might be able to go too. She accepted it being just Lily when it was just Lily — when Lily was a fairy and it was their special secret — but now that she knows there's a school and magic is taught and the Snape boy has it, there's no excuse. Instead of being Lily's sidekick, the only one who knows the true extent of her powers and protects her from the world, she is now as much of an outsider to her sister's life as anyone else. More so, in fact, because she knows what she's missing.
And Lily had to turn around and mock her for it. How could she read Petunia's personal letters? Why couldn't she just keep her nose where it belongs?
Petunia knows that their parents think she's being petty, but she isn't. Not really. Yes, she doesn't like sharing her secret — or her sister — but it isn't just that. At the end of the day, she doesn't trust Snape, and she doesn't like how cruel he can be. He made a branch fall on her. How is that normal?
Her gut twists. According to the stories, fairies can be vindictive and bloodthirsty, just as much as they can be friendly and welcoming. They can shower newcomers with kindness, only to turn around and entrap them when their guards are down.
You can trap more flies with honey than with vinegar, she thinks, remembering her grandmother's favourite phrase.
The tears that she has been holding in for the past few months well in the corner of her eyes, but they don't fall. She didn't want to cry in front of Lily, not wanting her to see how hurt she was and gossip about it with Snape, giving them both more ammunition to use against her. So every day in the lead-up to the pair's departure, Petunia put on a brave face and held back the tears, even as her heart broke a little more each time she saw them together. It's the hardest thing she has ever done, but over time, it has become easier to hold it in.
Maybe that's her speciality: hiding her feelings.
But she would give it back in a heartbeat if it meant that Lily would turn away from the magical world and come back home to her family. If only something would happen to convince her to return. It feels dirty and mean to think it, but it would be a kindness, really, in the long run.
Please, she thinks.
-x-
Nineteen years old
When Petunia first meets James, she instantly sees why Lily fancies him. His good looks are undeniable, and there's a spark in his eyes that speaks of good humour and passion. From the way they interact with one another — almost as if they are drawn together like magnets — it's clear that this isn't a passing fling. His manners are polished enough that she knows her parents will be gushing about how lovely he is for weeks afterwards. They aren't as impeccable as her Vernon's, of course, but it's clear that he's making an effort, and she appreciates that.
For a moment, she thinks there's a chance she and Lily can work things out. She has been living under the assumption that all of Lily's classmates are as selfish and callous as Severus Snape and that going to Hogwarts will only hurt her in the end. But if people like James Potter can be wizards as well, then maybe it isn't as bad as she thought.
It doesn't take long for the illusion to shatter, revealing a hint of a dark underbelly that frightens Petunia. He may know the appropriate lines to say to win over the girls' parents, but she can tell that his good manners are just a front. There's an abrasiveness there — a callousness — that comes out in jokes that are that little bit too mean and looks that are that little bit too judgemental. He is here for Lily and Lily alone; that much is obvious.
It feels like yet another in a long line of knives to Petunia's heart. She loves and misses her sister so much, even if she has locked her feelings away so they can't hurt her. Her deepest and most desperate desire is for them to reconcile again — to go back to the days when it was just the two of them playing on the swing set without a care in the world. And while she knows that's impossible, for a brief, shining second, she thought they might at least be able to find a compromise going forward.
Only for him to yank that hope away again. If Petunia is right — if their relationship is as strong as she first thought and now fears — then all he's going to do is take Lily even further away from her.
Pain stabs through Petunia as she watches Lily laugh at James, her green eyes shining with love and happiness. To her sister's credit, she has stepped in after some of the more mean-spirited jokes, gently rebuking him and bringing the conversation back around to something more positive. But that's not enough.
It's too late for them now. Petunia can't be magical, and Lily won't be non-magical, and neither of those things will ever change. It's what broke them apart in the first place: Lily chose her life, and Petunia needed to choose hers as well.
Still, Petunia can't help but feel guilty at her part in all of it. She pushed Lily away for so long, unwilling to stand by someone who wasn't willing to do the same for her. And somewhere along the way, she pushed her too far.
She's not coming back, Petunia thinks. She still loves Lily, and she always will, but she can't keep hoping for something that is never going to happen.
It hurts, but she doesn't cry. She hasn't in years.
-x-
Twenty-three years old
When Petunia finds the baby on her doorstep and sees the familiar handwriting on the letter that rests atop his blanket, her world splinters in an instant. At first, she hopes it's some kind of cruel jape — all of the admittedly limited sample size of witches and wizards she has met seem to like those — but as she reads the letter, it becomes impossible to deny its veracity. No one would go so far as to make up a war just to play a prank on her.
Lily — dead. Those are two words that she never thought she would hear in the same sentence.
Once upon a time, Petunia wished for something that would take her sister away from that strange world of hers. She pictured her growing bored or homesick or even getting bullied — anything to make her see that it wasn't where she belonged.
Now, guilt and devastation rush through her as she realises that that's exactly what happened, just not in the way she was expecting, nor with the results she was hoping for. It's like the time-old adage of being careful what one wishes for. Is this her punishment for wishing ill on her sister?
Gingerly, she lifts the baby up into her arms and carries him inside. Vernon won't like it, but she can't just leave him out there. They'll have to take him in until she can get in touch with Dumbledore to straighten things out. Surely, he can't actually mean to leave the boy with them — Lily and James must have friends who can look after him. People they've spoken to in the last three years.
Pulling the blanket back from around the baby's face, she gets her first good look at her nephew. He seems to have more Potter in him than Evans; for the most part, he's the spitting image of his father.
But then his eyes open, and her breath catches in her throat. They are an exact replica of her sister's — almond-shaped, expressive, and a striking emerald green in colour, the likes of which Petunia has never seen on anyone else. As they stare at one another, Harry's face scrunches up in confused distress, and he starts to cry.
She rocks him in her arms, but all she feels is hollow. It's like he has judged her and, like everyone except Vernon, held her up against her sister and found her wanting. Once again, she is less-than; she's the plain sister, the boring sister, the non-magical sister.
For the first time since Lily left her life, Petunia can't help but see herself as less-than as well.