It was around the middle of August when Dumbledore visited. In fact, it was August 17, at 3:27 in the afternoon, to be precise. After all, when you spend your days practically locked in a house with nothing to do for months on end...well, when anything happens, you're sure to make note of it.

Things hadn't been easy, to put it mildly. When you decide to room with your hyper-active husband (who also happens to be your school-hood rival) and your newborn baby, in a house that seems to grow smaller and more cramped everyday...yes, well, things hadn't been easy on Lily Potter.

In the beginning, everything had been fine; James and her had been fairly newly married and they had a wonderful, bouncing, baby boy. They had ran throughout the house, decorating, redecorating, practicing spells, and entertaining Harry. When they were tired, they'd plop down on the floor—or perhaps one of the many worn chairs—and read a book, or watch the telly, or play a game of wizard chess.

But as time wore on, the halls became too familiar, the books too well-known, the world too dull. They were twenty year olds and a one year old stuffed in a house; there were things to be done outside the too-thick walls...and they were stuck inside.

James grew the most restless; he would pace around the house, face turned sour, and snap at Lily whenever she interrupted his "thinking process".

Being who she was, however, Lily, of course, would always snap right back. This resulted in many high-spirited, high-volume arguments, which—more often than not—resulted in one or the other sleeping on the couch.

Harry was often neglected, around this time; his parents would be too busy screaming at each other to actually care for him.

It was just a phase, however. When Lily and James saw the damage done to little Harry, they quickly put their problems aside to care for the true love of their lives: Their son.

The avoided each other during the day, as much as possible. It made their home more harmonious, that way.

At night, however, they would lay wrapped in each others arms. They would talk a lot; sometimes about everything, sometimes about nothing. They talked of the War, if there was an end in sight; if they'd live to see that end. They talked of their time at Hogwarts quite a lot. They talked of the families and friends they missed.

They also talked about After. After the war, what would they do? Their relationship...it was more of a friendship, the love/hate friendship that high schoolers had. Would they remain married, after this? If not, what of their son, Harry?

They talked about Harry a lot, as well. About how smart and kind he was, even for a baby.

...how he deserved better than them.

They were only 20—near kids themselves, as Dumbledore would say. Lily had planned on attending a Muggle University after graduating Hogwarts, and James had thought to go into Pro-Quidditch...but the war and having a child changed that. They hadn't been ready to help lead the Light side, and they hadn't been ready to raise a son; their negligence earlier on in the year proved that.

"Perhaps we can get better. We can make it work," one would whisper to the other—whomever hadn't brought up their doubts that night.

That was how most of their time went. It was almost tiring, doing so little.

They were bored and anxious. They felt sad all the time, especially Lily...

And then, Dumbledore had shown up, that ridiculously hot afternoon.

Albus Dumbledore didn't visit often; only when someone had died, or there was urgent information that needed to be heard by them. So naturally, Lily and James became as coil-nerved as a compressed spring.

"The war, I believe, is drawing nearer to a close. It will most likely be over in three months; tops," the man with the twinkling eyes and tinsel beard murmured. Lily and James could have cheered.

"But..." The young adults sagged. There was always a 'but'. "I fear you may not see the end of it, yet."

It was not unlike Dumbledore to be blunt, in those times; especially to those two. Dumbledore was a master manipulator, but he couldn't lie, not to them. They...they were like his children, or something closer, even.

Lily had tightened her hand around James's, the only sign of her fear.

"I came to ask if there is someone you would like to see..." 'before you die...' remained unspoken.

James had nodded immediately, rattling off the names of his fellow Marauders.

Lily, however, had hesitated. She wished she could see her Sev, her childhood best friend once more...but no. He was a spy, and she wouldn't allow his position—nor his life—to be jeopardized for her.

After forcing him from her mind, only one name remained. The name of the person she loved more than anyone in the world, excluding her son.

"Professor?" she had questioned quietly, interrupting James's rambling about his darned cloak—which Dumbledore had been inquiring about.

"Yes Lily?"

She took a deep breath, before asking in her normal loud, confident, and clear, voice, "Is it possible for Petunia to visit?"

James had gaped at her, and Dumbledore looked surprised as well. "I...yes, it is very possible. Do you wish her to visit you?" had been the older man's reply.

Lily simply nodded.

Dumbledore had left, then, not soon after her request.

The Marauders came on August 21; it had been a very loud, yet very wonderful event. The boys—no, MEN—had talked, drank, played games, ate, and so much more...

Harry had loved every second of it. The love the three other Marauders possessed for the child was undeniable. They had each tried to get the boy to say their names, but the only thing accomplished was a quiet and shy, "Paddy". Sirius wouldn't let anyone forget it, either.

All in all, it was one of the best days the small family had had since their isolation.

Then came the day Petunia came.

Lily was surprised her sibling even came, to be honest; Petunia and her hadn't gotten along for so long, and there was also the fact that Godric's Hollow was so far away from the cookie-cutter neighborhood Petunia and her own small little family had settled down in.

It had been September 3, and the day had been slightly cooler than recent days. The green leaves had started to loose their summer color, and the air smelled of wood and life. A plain car had pulled up in front of their house, and sure enough, a large man, a thin woman, and a pinkish baby emerged from the vehicle.

Lily had been surprised, as had James, but they quickly ushered the family in.

Vernon, Petunia's husband, looked very unhappy ("constipated," James later jeered) to be in the presence of "their sort". Petunia didn't look too pleased either, holding on tight to her round baby with thin arms.

The chat had been stiff, sounding almost rehearsed. They discussed the weather, politics, Vernon's drill company, their babies...normal stuff, nothing personal.

Soon—too soon—after they arrived, the family was on their way out the door.

"Petunia-" Lily called quietly, causing her sister to stop and turn around.

Petunia looked awful, truly. She seemed so thin, so dull...Lily knew she herself looked the same way, but it hurt her to see TUNEY like this.

Years ago, when they were children, Lily and Petunia used to be best friends. It wasn't really until she met Sev that they started to grow apart...

But through everything, they loved each other. They even had this special...well, it wasn't really a handshake, nor a gesture, really. It was like...a sign to each other. A sign that their love was still there.

Lily stepped forward until she was so close to Petunia, she could smell the perfume and smoke on her. She gently touched Petunia's hollowed cheeks, as she reached up and kissed her sister's forehead. After she rocked back on her heals, she gently brushed her thumb across the forehead, a few strands of stringy blond hair swept aside.

Lily stared into Petunia's eyes. It was as though James and Harry and Vernon and Dudley and Severus and Dumbledore and Voldemort and the whole world stopped existing. She just needed a sign, THIS sign from Petunia, and then everything would be alright.

For some reason, Lily was sure of that.

If Tuney did this...it would give her hope—hope that they COULD see the end of this war, maybe. If not, she would have a warm feeling—a feeling of the love her sister had for her.

If she didn't...well, Lily knew that this would be the last chance FOR her to do it.

Petunia seemed to know that too, by that strange look in her eyes.

Thats why it hurt so much when she turned and walked away.


A/N Yeah, this was random. But whatevs. Just wanted to make sure HP fandom didn't think I totally abandoned you guys. XD

This idea came to me in the shower (don't judge). I guess this explains why Petunia acts the way she does: Guilt. She would think that "Perhaps if I gave Lily a sign that I still cared...she would have been more willing to live." It isn't too obvious, but Lily is pretty depressed in this, but she doesn't really understand it either.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review!