Bluebells and Broken Promises
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (as you might have guessed) and thus will make no profit from this story. It is written for the sole purpose of entertainment, and hopefully (though I admit that this isn't my best story by far), bringing out the feels.
A/N: This story was written for The Fairytale Challenge and the Challenge Your Versatility challenges on the Diagon Alley II forum. The classic fairytale prompt focused on this time is Hansel and Gretel: Write about abandonment. Alternatively, write about Petunia Dursley, of which I chose to focus on both.
Optional prompts:
Dialogue: "I promise." / "I've heard that one before."
Word: temperance
Song: Signs- Bloc Party
Picture: Number 2 (dark forest)
Word count: 2399 words
I will not pretend that this story went the way I planned, especially the last part, but i do hope you enjoy it anyway :)
Petunia smoothed down her long, silky black skirt, making sure that it was sitting comfortably past her knees. Her black coat—one she had proudly ordered from a catalogue boasting work from Queen Elizabeth's very own stylists—fit snugly, blocking out the drifting snowflakes swirling around her. Vernon shuffled closer to her, not for the first time tugging at his shirt collar as he peered around at the other mourners.
"You'd think that they would have the decency to have the funeral under shelter with actual seats," Petunia whispered to her husband, sneering at the guests. "Or at least have the sense to wear appropriate clothes."
Vernon nodded, his eyes widening as a short man dressed in a dark green cloak with a matching pointed hat trotted up to them, his nose red. Her husband gripped her arm tightly, pulling her back a few steps, as the man extended his hand towards her.
"Oh, Mrs-Mrs Dur-Dursem, I'm so-so sorry for your loss," Petunia winced as he blew his nose into a handkerchief, not bothering to correct him on her last name. She stared at his hand, refusing to touch it as he continued, "Your sis-sister and her hus-husband were greatly-greatly ad-admired. Ex-excuse me."
"Of course she was," she muttered, glaring at the snivelling Wizard as he left to empty the remaining contents of his nose in front of other guests.
Vernon snorted, tugging her towards the other side of the wide, gaping hole that had been dug. Many of the guests began to gather around the twin grave, their eyes red and cheeks wet. Really, did none of them possess temperance? Could they not learn to control their emotions? It wouldn't surprise her in the least if the motley gang took to drinking before they even reached the wake.
No, none of them should be shedding a single tear. Her sister had broken her promise and abandoned her—long before she chose to die—and her foolish husband had helped her. Petunia moved back with a gasp as two identical white coffins suddenly appeared, hovering over the grave hole. The snow seemed to filter around them, barely touching the smooth surface. Upon each one a bouquet of white lilies sat, their flowers open as though they were watching the guests.
Her cheeks felt warm as she stared at the flowers. What ignoramus had arranged this? Lily, despite her name, adored bluebells. Bluebells. Unless she had changed everything about herself when she became a freak, she certainly would not want this.
She had half a mind to rip the lilies off when someone coughed, bringing attention to the celebrant. "Witches and Wizards, ladies and gentlemen. We are gathered here today…"
Taking a calming breath, she tore her gaze away from the flowers. It didn't matter; Lily had broken her promise, so why should she bother?
"Petunia! Lily! Girls, where are you?"
Petunia ran through the long grass, their golden hands tugging at her skirt. She could see her sister moving up ahead, a touch of auburn parting the grass.
"C'mon, Tuney," her little sister called, giggling as she ran further on.
"Not too far!" she called, panting.
Picking up her speed as best she could, Petunia sprinted out of the field and towards the edge of the forest. Leaning on her knees to try and catch her breath, she scanned the line of tall oak trees trying to locate Lily. The younger girl had a habit of taking things too far, and had probably entered the forest, despite their mother's warning never to enter. Petunia had only wanted to get away from the house for a little while, already sick of the way their aunty was fawning over her daughter, Rose, and Lily because they had been Confirmed. Big deal—Petunia had gone through hers only two years before, and no aunts or uncles had thrown her a big party. When she had snuck out of the house, however, she had been surprised to find Lily sneaking out after her, the girl's cheeks red from being pinched too often. Petunia had told her to go back, but Lily had raced ahead, laughing as their mother stood at the open door, calling for them to come back.
She wished Lily had listened to her and returned, for now both the field and forest were eerily silent. Shivering, she pressed her jacket against her. It was late December, and although the snow had yet to fall, it was much too cold to stay out for too long.
"Lily? Lily, come out! C'mon, Mum's worried about you," she called, huddling into her jacket.
Only silence answered her, and she peered into the forest. It was dark inside, the trees closing in together the further back they went. As the wind picked up, their branches waved at her, beckoning her to go forward. Surely Lily wouldn't have gone in there?
"Lily!" she called again, licking her lips. "Ha ha. Stop messing around and come out already, it's not funny!"
To her left, the grass began to rustle. Petunia gulped, her head turning to watch as the golden tips swayed. Perhaps it was just the wind. "Lily?"
She jumped back, alarmed, as the grass rustled again, more violently this time. Something was definitely in there, watching her. She had half a mind to run, her heart beating frantically. She couldn't leave Lily alone, though. Maybe it was just a scared animal, hiding from the girls' noisy approach? A dear, or a rabbit, or even a fox. Lily was probably somewhere nearby waiting to help it, trying to approach it without scaring it further; her penchant for animals often overriding any sense the girl had.
Drawing a deep breath, Petunia took a step forward and reached out a shaky hand, preparing herself to part the grass. If it was a hurt animal, it would be better for her to look at it first, in case it attacked out of fright.
"Rah!"
"Ahh!" Squealing, Petunia fell backwards onto the ground. Her heart was pounding, and she brought a hand up to her chest in the hopes of calming it.
Plopping down next to her, Lily giggled, the sound echoing around. "Got ya, Tuney!"
Petunia glared at her sister, resisting the temptation to push her over. "That was not funny!" she said. Then, motioning to the spot of soil that had stained her floral skirt, she added, "Now look, my outfit is ruined. Thanks a lot, Lily."
Lily lifted her shoulders in a shrug, a smile still on her lips. It was only when Petunia folded her arms that the girl apologised, in a way only her sister could.
"Sorry, Tuney. If it helps, look at my dress!" Wiggling her bum around in the ground, Lily laughed as her clean, white dress turned brown.
Gasping, Petunia shook her head. "Your new dress! Lily, you have to take better care of your belongings."
Lily stuck her tongue out in answer before falling back and laying in the grass. Turning her bright green eyes to the sky, she sighed. "I wish it would snow already."
Huffing, Petunia looked at the girl. Honestly, sometimes she wondered if Lily was adopted—the things she came out with certainly wasn't something Petunia would ever find herself saying. Dusting off her hands, she got to her knees.
"Come on, Lily, we should go."
"I don't know why it hasn't yet this year. It always snows for Christmas," Lily muttered, ignoring her as she continued staring at the wispy clouds. "It doesn't even look like it's going to rain."
Petunia groaned, nudging Lily. The wind picked up around them, moving the grass above their heads. Lily smiled, closing her eyes.
Great. Now they really wouldn't be getting home any time soon.
Deciding it best to let Lily rest for a minute, Petunia eased herself onto her back and laid down. At least she would get some sort of peace from her aunt. The ground beneath her wasn't particularly soft however; bits of twigs, grass and a few stray stones stuck in her back, most likely damaging her dress further. She squirmed around a little, trying to get more comfortable. Lily, on the other hand, stretched her arms above her head, feeling the grass between her fingers.
Petunia turned her head to her, noticing how peaceful she looked. Lily never seemed to have a care in the world, and more often than not, that worried Petunia. Would her sister to be able to recognise danger? Would she know how to handle herself when times got tough? The world was a nasty place, Petunia knew, and it wasn't just ruled by bullies.
"Lily…" she began, studying Lily's face.
The girl didn't open her eyes, replying with a simple, "Mmm?"
"Would you have gone into the forest?"
Cracking open her eyes, Lily looked at her. "Mum said we weren't."
Petunia rolled her eyes. "But would you have gone into it?"
Lily opened her eyes completely, turning her head to Petunia. With a smile, she said, "Not without you, Tuney."
Groaning, Petunia stared at Lily. Of course she would go into it. "What if you got lost? How would you find your way home?"
Lily shrugged, glancing around at their surroundings. Then, her face lighting up as she spotted something, she reached a hand to her side. Pulling it back, she showed Petunia the flower she held; one of the many that were fond of the area. Petunia stared at it, not understanding what her sister meant by it. Lily imitated Petunia by rolling her eyes, and pushed the blue flower in front of her face.
"Easy, I'd use bluebells." Holding up the flower, Lily plucked off a petal. "See? I'd lay the petals on the ground as we walked so we could see the path we took. The blue would be easy to spot, I think."
Closing her eyes, she groaned again. She was right, as usual; Lily simply didn't have the sense to keep herself safe. As her big sister, Petunia knew it was up to her to do what she could. Shuffling so that she could lean on her elbow, she locked eyes with Lily. Her sister stared back into her blue eyes, her green ones twinkling.
"Lily, listen to me. I want you to promise me that you are going to do your best to keep yourself safe, alright? Don't smile, I'm serious. I don't want to be an only child because you decide to go and risk your life."
Lily continued smiling and nodded. Extending her pinky finger towards her, she said, "Alright, I promise. "
"I've heard that one before." Petunia didn't quite believe her, but a pinky promise was good enough for the time being. Holding out her own finger, she linked it with Lily's.
Grinning, Lily shook it and quickly added, "I will never abandon you, Tuney… If you promise to one day come into the forest with me."
What a sneak! Nevertheless, Petunia found her lips twitching into a smile as she agreed. "Fine." Lily would probably forget the forest part in a few months, anyway.
Satisfied, her sister looked back to the sky, sighing again. "I really wish it would snow."
Petunia followed Lily's gaze, looking at the clouds. She didn't feel quite so cold now, and nodded her head. "Me too."
The snow was falling heavily, covering the ground in a white blanket. Many of the mourners had moved on, their strange cloaks wrapped tight around their body as they made their way to one of the freak's houses for lunch.
"C'mon, Pet, we'd better get going. You are tired enough as it is," Vernon urged, tugging on her arm.
Petunia tore her eyes away from the white lilies sitting atop the freshly buried earth. They barely stood out on top of the mound, the snow covering any beauty they might've had. Vernon was right; she hasn't had much sleep, not since the night before Halloween. Every night since she had dreamt of a forest—a pale little girl in a white dress guiding her through it. Their bedroom window must have a crack in it, for she would see cold snow swirled throughout the forest, turning into little blue petals as the flakes touched the ground. Crows would then caw, begging her to head further into the darkness, and she would awake in a tangle of sheets, sweat covering her forehead.
Turning to her husband, Petunia smiled. "You go ahead, love, I'll be along shortly. I just want to make sure these freaks haven't completely ruined anything else."
Vernon paused, turning around only as she waved him off.
Then, sure that he was headed towards their car, she turned back to the grave. The joint headstone had already been erected, the snow relentlessly covering the curved stone top. She bent down, clutching at the flowers as a snowflake landed upon her cheek—at least, it must have been a snowflake, for her windblown face was wet. Tossing the bouquet to the side, she made a mental note to return in the morning with a new bunch of flowers—bluebells, so that they could be seen against the wretched white. It only made sense.
The snow in front of her crunched, and she looked up. A woman nearby, her red hair pulled into a bun, was walking out of the church gate. Petunia froze, drinking in the slightness of her body and the way the woman almost skipped as she moved.
Was that…? No, it couldn't be—it wasn't possible. It simply wasn't possible.
Someone called to the woman and she turned her head back, dark brown eyes confused. A man jogged up to her, and together they left. No, of course it wasn't Lily.
Standing back up, she wiped her cheek, wondering why she wasn't able to scream the rudest words she had in her vocabulary—at the woman, or at the grave. Her mouth was dry and her stomach churned. Perhaps that was why she couldn't, she was simply sick from the cold. She might be able to muster up the energy when she returned with the bluebells and able to reprimand Lily for breaking her promise. Her sister had abandoned her—had broken the promise to stay safe—and Petunia was damn sure she wouldn't get away with it. After all, she too was paying for breaking her side of the deal.