Her Last Breath
Petunia Dursley, old and grey at the age of 85, watched the heart monitor beside her bed, beeping to the rhythm of her heart. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. She looked up at the white ceiling, and cuddled deeper into the thin hospital blanket.
Her husband, Vernon Dursley, had died three year previous, at the age of 79. Petunia knew her time was drawing nearer with every breath she exhaled. Does god measure life by the breaths you take, or by the mistakes you make in life?
'If god did measure life by the mistakes people made, then I should've died years ago,' thought Petunia. Her eyes turned to the heart monitor, they unfocused as an old memory played back into her head.
Humming to herself, Petunia finished icing a cake, putting a few finishing touches here and there. She looked at the chocolate cake, making sure it was perfect, then took a small tube filled with blue icing, and wrote, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY DUDLEY" on it. Blue was, after all, his favorite color.
Not that her plump boy would notice. 'No,' she thought, 'he'll be to busy stuffing it into his face." Petunia placed the cake delicately into the fridge. She turned around to face a 5 year old boy, one which had jet black hair, and striking green eyes.
Harry Potter rubbed his eyes sleepily, and looked up at his aunt. "Harry, what do you think you are doing?" Petunia pursed her lips.
"I'm thirsty Aunt P," Harry whispered, in his little boyish voice.
"What did Uncle Vernon say about getting up in the middle of the night?"
Harry pouted. "Not to get up, and to stay in my room under the stairs, no exceptions." The boy recited it, as if out of a book.
"That's right." Petunia felt pity for the boy anyway, and it was Christmas eve after all. She reached over the sink and placed a glass on the counter. She left the kitchen, and stopped by the stairs. "Don't forget to wash the glass." Her voice was hard, and cold. Full of hate.
Her biggest mistake was Harry Potter. Not raising him like she would her own son. Not loving him like she did Dudley.
The guilt haunted her for years, and would still after she died. She would give anything to see that boy again. She would give her last breath to say she was sorry.
AN: The chapters are going to be short, usually a page, a page and a half. Depends on what I feel like writing. Its going to be a short story. Please review.