A gentle breeze stroke Petunia's hair as she was walking barefoot on the fresh, green grass, enjoying the light tingling under her feet.
The sky was clear and blue, the sun bright and yellow.
A fragrant scent reached her nostrils, and she inhaled deeply.
Flowers.
There were flowers.
Lots of them.
Daisies that were still to be picked.
Bright and colored irises.
Steel blue myosotises.
Budding roses.
They were pure, untouched, and they were all full of life, not severed, swaying in the spring breeze as though in a ritual dance, waving at Petunia for being there.
The field was beautiful and welcoming.
In the distance, a white flower stood out, his petals looking soft and smooth, his stalk strong.
A lily.
Petunia got closer, reaching out for it as the clouds shadowed the field, menacing, trying to protect what was rightfully theirs, and the grass and the flowers trembled in fear.
She didn't care; her hand closed around the flower... then slipped to caress the lily petals.
She felt something flickering beneath her fingers as she did so, but she couldn't place it.
.x.x.x.x.x.x.
Petunia struggled in her sleep.
"Lily," she whispered.
Her lips forming that name of their own accord awoke her from her dream.
She looked around, blinded by the darkness, trying to focus on the room surrounding her.
Petunia quickly got free of the covers, glanced at her husband, his breath even and slightly snoring, and softly walking on her tiptoes made her way downstairs, without forgetting to check her precious Dudley's sleep as she passed by his bedroom.
Her son looked fine, so she just went to the kitchen where she sat down without turning the light on. She didn't need it to do what she wanted to do; her mind's eyes were as sharp at night as they were in the sunlight.
Perhaps even more, she thought as the silence let her memories, wishes, dreams, fears flow and get as intense as ever.
She had been restless lately, and she had always found shelter here, away from her daily life that had become her husband and son, and near to what was her past.
The kitchen had always been Lily's and hers. The place where they shared their secret while having a good cup of chocolate, late at night like now, while their parents slept upstairs unaware of everything.
If Petunia struggled hard enough she could still hear those familiar echoes, conspirator whispers and muffled laughs, as they both rolled their eyes at their own silliness.
They had argued too in that same kitchen, but the night was always kind enough not to bring bitter memories up. It softened anything and everything, making it all light, beautifully nuanced, and almost... magical—it hurt her to think that it was magic that had stolen her sister and best friend, the same magic they had once pretended to have. Together. As they should have supposed to be.
Petunia sighed, her gaze lost in the past, focused on visions of happiness and felicity, as she tried to ignore something subdued and trembling setting in her throat, wanting to get free. She didn't know what it was, she couldn't have spelled or defined it, but it shook her.
Her gaze searched for the window that let the pale moonlight filter. Out there, far away, in the distance, her sister was in her own house with her own husband and her own son. Petunia vaguely wondered how she was, an odd feeling similar to fear bothering her again.
She unconsciously reached out before her arm fell back at her side, useless.
When she fell asleep again, her head on the table, a lily visited her dreams.
It was scarlet stained.
Written for the Movie Madness Week Two (prompt: scarlet) and the Jurassic Fever (Dilophosaurus), both on the Golden Snitch forum. School, House: Beauxbatons, Melusine. WC: 630
