Hey this is a one-shot written to humanise Petunia Dursley. I know it's probrably been done before, but this one doesn't depict her as an evil btch hissing "Freak" at Lily all the time. Hopefully it's a little different and you all love it.

WARNING: Mentions suicide and death. Don't read if you don't like gritty stuff.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. This is non-profit.

My name is Petunia Dursley, and I'm here to set the record straight.

You see, people hate me. I'm an evil woman who mistreated her nephew and cut her sister out of my life for being who she was. But it's not as simple as that.

When I was a child, I was such a free spirit. I would spend hours in the countryside searching for faeries and pixies and dragons, and often go missing at the drop of a hat. I caused my parents an impossible amount of grief while Lily stayed at home, being a good girl. My punishment was that my parents stopped giving me attention. When I went missing my Dad would wait until I came back and then make a big show of praising Lily for being a good girl and not worrying her Daddy. Mum would (not so) subtly slip Lily chocolate after I had snuck out again.

And so I learned. I learned not to go out and search for things that didn't exist, not to expect anything incredible out of my life, and, above all, that if I wanted to get ahead in life, I had to be normal. No one would love weird, pixie-chasing, free-spirited Petunia and her bizarre ideas about how God could be a woman (the congregation hated me). But their punishments had become habit, and Lily was still the centre of attention. I didn't mind. I still loved my parents and my sister, and I showed it. So gradually they broke the habit, and we became a peaceful, loving family. I still spent a slightly abnormal amount of my time in the garden (the pixies were there, I swear), but I was pronounced an avid gardener and celebrated.

And then Lily got her letter and everything changed. I remember the day the owl flew through the window and everyone screamed but me. I felt sure that the owl had something for me. It was important and it would make me special. I had never been so sure of anything in my life- and my instincts betrayed me. The letter made Lily special.

Lily left, and I was sad to see her go. I missed her while she was away, but she wrote, and it felt so brilliant to write to her via an owl. I loved the birds so much that she bought me one of my own to write to her with. I called him Hermes and I loved him to pieces. It was a symbol that I could be abnormal and normal at the same time. My parents encouraged straight-laced Lily to become a free spirit and she came back with gradually more and more confidence and told us incredible stories about her life.

When she was gone, my parents would talk about nothing but her. Jealousy and hatred began to boil up inside of me, but I kept my cool and nodded my head as they rattled on about her. How talented she was, how lucky we were to have a witch in the family, how they wished I could be more like her. On those occasions I just wanted to scream that I was like her once but it was taken away from me. I almost blamed them for not getting a letter. Lily grew older and different, breaking off from her boring non-magical family and the only time I heard from her was the odd owl she would send with Hermes. But now when she wrote it was to warn me of a new threat to the world; Lord Voldemort. I began to dread the next letter for fear it would tell me that my sister was dead. Despite the fact I hated her and our parents, I still loved them in a backward, twisted way. And then one night when I was out, the unthinkable happened.

I had been out with a few friends to a posh dinner party I didn't want to go to, to be set up with a man I didn't want to meet and then be walked home with him when I wanted to run through the park without any shoes and get leaves and twigs through my hair. I walked home with a Mr Vernon Dursley, who was a boring, self-important man whose father owned a drilling company called Grunnings. He had a fair amount of money and most of my 'friends' had been flirting with him all night. For some unforeseen reason, he seemed to only have eyes for me. God only knows why. I have always somewhat resembled a horse. My only good feature seemed to be that I could keep my reserved social façade constantly. I hated my parents, I hated my sister, I hated my friends, I hated Vernon Dursley, but most of all I hated myself for becoming the opposite of what I truly wanted to be. And yet, here I was, this total wreck of a human being talking politely with Mr Drills-are-my-life-don't-you-find-them-fascinating?

It was all going 'fine' until he pointed out some fireworks. Only they weren't fireworks at all. There, gleaming in the sky, was a green skull, a serpent twisting lazily out of its mouth. I just ran home with no explanation, and found my parents lying cold on the floor. I can't even begin to describe the pain I felt when I looked into my father's eyes and couldn't see him looking back. Vernon, to his credit, didn't leave or panic. He calmly and quietly phoned the police and sat with me. The Ministry of Magic or whatever they're called arrived first. He even managed to stay conscious when they just appeared around the room.

I wrote to my sister several times telling her the funeral date. She never replied, but I held hope that she would arrive on time nonetheless. All our relatives showed up, and we waited five hours in the pouring rain for Lily to arrive. Eventually, I was persuaded to go ahead with the ceremony without her. It was dark as I read my Mother's favourite poem and the stars came out as we lowered the coffins. Vernon I stayed there watching the freshly-dug earth until morning. It was then that Lily arrived.

She ran towards me, her friends from school following, all dressed in colours. I wanted to scream at her. I had been forced to conform all my life, would it hurt her to just once to do what was normal, what was expected?

"I'm so sorry I'm late," She gasped, her voice noticeably thick with emotion. "Where is everybody?" I gestured limply to the graves. "You buried them without me?" She was in tears now, her friends shaking their heads behind her.

"You knew the dates," I said simply, the last scrap of love for her melting away.

"How could you Petunia? You knew they meant everything to me and you robbed me of a proper goodbye? You always were jealous of me,"

And then, with everyone watching, I exploded.

"How could I? I was the one who spent my entire life trying so hard to make them proud of me when you managed it effortlessly! I was the one who made sure I saw them every day and that they always knew where I was! I was the one who had to sit there and bear being told that I would never live up to you every day and pretend it wasn't breaking my heart! I was the one," I was sobbing now, "who organised all of this for them but you will always be their favourite! So I would say, Lily, that I have every right to be jealous of you. They always loved you more than me and it tore me up inside while you swanned around turning teacups into rats! I was the one sat in the corner dying inside while no one noticed because they were all too busy admiring you. They meant more to me than they ever can to you but I'm sure they'll be too busy feeling sorry for you from heaven that they'll care. All I ever wanted was to be loved for who I was, and when I couldn't have that I tried to get it any way I could. I turned into this to be loved and look where it got me. I can't take this anymore Lily," She shook her head frantically, seeing where I was going.

"No, Petunia, please,"

"You're not my sister any more Lily. I never want to see you again, ever. I'm not going to let my life revolve around you anymore. Goodbye," I extended my hand, dry-eyed and watched her shake it, sobbing her heart out. I stood with my head held high as she was led away by her messy-haired boyfriend and I felt nothing for her. All I felt was terrified that I now had no family and no home.

Vernon looked after me. He thought he understood me. He thought he was saving me from myself, but I was far too far gone for that. He looked after me so well I convinced myself I was in love with him, and I married him. I bore him a son I fussed over but never liked, and I brought up the boy who killed the man who killed my parents. I treated him horrendously. I locked him in a cupboard, I gave him socks for his birthday, I made him feel as unloved as I had been made to feel. It was true what I said to Lily; I never did see her again. I never went to her funeral; I have never seen her grave. I burned all photos of her and I never opened her letters. I didn't see her face for 25 long years, but I saw her eyes on that wretched boy.

I saw her face yesterday. I was going through some of mother's old jewellery, when I prised open a locket. Inside it was a picture of me and Lily smiling together when we were children. Engraved on the other side were the words; 'my flower girls'. I locked myself in the ensuite until the next morning. Vernon and Dudley were out, so there was no one to notice. Then, this morning, I allowed myself to indulge myself a passing whim for the first time since I was nine years old. I put on a long white dress that had been Mother's, walked up to the bridge over the river and leaned against the railings, breathing in the fresh air. I climbed up onto the railings and a tear slipped down my face. I watched it fall into the icy water, and then I followed it.

I died, of course, but I had what I wanted.

Then later, everything I just wrote appeared in the hands of my husband, my son and my nephew. I guess there was a little magic in me after all.

There you have it. A little twist at the end. Flame all you want, but I liked it!

Miss SJB