Once upon a time, there was a girl named Petunia.
Petunia was born to a nice family in a nice neighborhood, and gained a nice sister a year later. Her name was Lily.
Petunia and Lily were very close; they were the best of friends. Petunia was overbearing, but Lily was very sweet; they complemented each other well, as sisters often do. They played together very often, and played princesses together. Lily was very torn up about the game, though, because they didn't know any princesses with red hair or green eyes. Petunia, however, was blonde, fair-skinned, and had blue eyes-she could be Cinderella, or Rapunzel, or even maybe Snow White, with a bit of acting. She was secretly very glad for these princess games, because although she was the Princess with the two of them alone, when the girls were out and about, the women of the neighborhood would bypass Petunia for the beautiful Lily. But it was alright, because they were sisters, and neither of them needed anyone else.
When Petunia and Lily started school, however, Petunia noticed one thing. Her sister, the pretty, vivacious Lily, was very much different from herself, who had a tendency to retreat into haughtiness out of nerves. And her sister was so special! She was so good at everything–so smart, so nice, so charismatic! Anyone who met her couldn't help but fall in love with her, and Petunia was no exception. She loved her sister, really she did, but sometimes a small, ugly little part of her asked why Lily was so much better at everything than Petunia was. Couldn't she have something that she was the best at?
And so Petunia turned towards house duties, because the one thing Lily lacked was patience–patience with cooking, patience with cleaning, patience with being patient. And Petunia blushed under the praise of her parents whenever she baked a particularly good cake, and glowed whenever she saw Lily's admiration. She was the big sister again. Petunia resolved to be more ladylike and proper; perhaps that was how one earned praise. Seeing her sister's mournful gazes whenever Lily messed up cooking, Petunia offered to teach her how to bake the perfect cake. She was, however, almost certain that Lily couldn't possibly succeed, but the offer made Petunia feel generous and kind.
It took days and days; Petunia knew her sister would give up eventually. But one day–"Petunia, look!" cried Lily. And indeed, there lay a perfectly baked, moist chocolate cake.
"It's lovely, Lily," Petunia said, but on the inside she knew that she had just lost something important. After that, Petunia stopped baking.
When the girls reached ten years old, their father jokingly told them that they were so grown up, they would soon have to get jobs of their own. The girls, being the girls, took their father seriously. Lily wanted to be a pediatrician, or a teacher, or-maybe even the Prime Minister! Petunia didn't say much, but secretly she entertained hopes of becoming an engineer. Her schools marks weren't bad, and science and math were terribly interesting…
The family's lives changed when the girls turned eleven. Apparently, Lily was a witch–in a good way. Petunia, on the other hand, wasn't. Petunia was losing Lily–even now, to that Snape boy–and suddenly the girls were divided by a barrier that was uncrossable. Petunia mailed the Headmaster of Lily's school in desperation–wasn't there anything she could do? She would be a terrific student, she promised him, and she would try her absolute best. Wasn't there any way that Petunia could be a Witch as well? Lily's headmaster wrote back with kind words, but with every letter she read, Petunia felt as if she were being hit repeatedly. There was nothing anyone could do.
When Petunia and Lily went to Diagon Alley for the first time to shop for Lily's things, Petunia was awestruck. Magic was real. There were owls, and moving pictures, and–oh, goodness, even wands! Petunia wished she had ten more eyes to see everything. But then she remembered that she was a Muggle, and she couldn't do or own any of these things. And it was from that moment that Petunia began to hate her sister.
Over their school years, Lily grew more and more beautiful, while Petunia simply just grew. Poor, plain Petunia! She wasn't as lively as Lily, or as brilliant; Petunia was haughty, and dull, and forgettable, when compared to her sister. Whenever people visited their home, they inquired after Lily, while when seeing Petunia, gave a start and asked–"And what was your name again, dear?"
When Petunia and Lily were 15, Petunia decided not to attend college. What was the use of school, with its dull mediocrity, when her sister was off flying on broomsticks and brewing potions and learning charms? What was the use? And besides, Petunia would be just fine finding a nice husband with a nice job. In that at least, she could win over her sister.
When Petunia and Lily were 18, Lily became married. There was a war in the magic world going on, she explained, and she and James had wanted to make it official quickly. Petunia despaired in complete jealousy. Her sister's husband was handsome, and rich, and completely besotted with her glorious, beautiful sister. As a result, when Vernon came along, Petunia snatched him up. He was from a reputable family, and had a very stable job. Not to mention that fact that he doted on her very much. Petunia might not have loved Vernon, but he was very sweet when he wanted to be, and she grew a sort of attached fondness to the man. She married him, despite her mother's reservations, and never saw Lily again.
That is, until her parents died. On the same day. The reported cause of death was a car crash, but Petunia knew better. Her parents bodies weren't marred with any wounds or lesions. In fact, their bodies looked perfectly fine–almost too perfect, with no signs of damage whatsoever. Petunia blamed Lily. She hated her, hated her with a fierce, burning hatred. It was all Lily's fault. It was her fault for killing their parents. It was because of her stupid magic, with her stupid magic world, and her stupid, stupid magic enemies. How could Lily let this happen to their PARENTS?Petunia began to hate magic very much.
When Dudley was around three years old, Petunia found Harry Potter on her doorstep, wrapped in a blanket. He had a letter with him, from Lily's old headmaster, asking Petunia to please take the boy, because her sister and her husband had been killed by an evil maniac. Harry had beaten Voldemort, but he needed to stay with Petunia in order to have her blood's protection. Could she please tell Harry, for now, that his parents had died in a car crash until he was old enough to know better? Petunia put down the letter with her hands shaking in fury and looked down at the accursed baby, knowing that it would soon cause problems for them, problems for them all, with its freakishness and enemies and magic. It was a filthy word.
When Harry had come back from school, Petunia was nervous. She and Vernon were to host an extremely important dinner party for Vernon's potential customers, and she wanted Harry to stay out of sight. With that done, she set about making the client's supposedly favorite food–chocolate cake. The end result wasn't bad, she told herself, but she still had to wipe her sweaty palms on her apron. And then–and then–that freak–he ruined it all. She watched the cake slide down the woman's expensive Chanel suit and heard the ghost of Lily's laughter. It was cruelly mocking.
When Harry was 17 and leaving home for good, he made sure that Petunia and her family had a safe place to go. She was so proud of her little Dudley, making amends with his cousin–she knew that wasn't easy for him. And then she herself turned to look at Harry, and they matched eyes in god knows how long–and she saw Lily's eyes. Emerald eyes, as green as the sea. But she also suddenly saw how old Harry's eyes were, and how tall he was compared to her. Suddenly, she felt old and small and weak. A flash of indecision sparked within her, and she opened her mouth, ready to apologize and explain and thank, but she held still at the last second and turned to go without looking back.
As Petunia drove away from Number 4 Privet Drive, she remembered the days that she and Lily played princesses and baked cakes and loved one another. She remembered how they had told each other secrets and giggled over who their Prince Charmings would be, and how they would live happily ever after next to each other, with their own children growing up side by side, as close they had once been. She remembered magic, and lost chances, and green, green eyes. She leaned her head back against the car seat and closed her eyes to dream. And she went into her–somewhat–happy, ever after.
