written for: quidditch league fanfiction competition— round ten / appleby arrows— chaser three
prompts: perfume, apologise, "when you light a candle, you also cast a shadow." — ursula k. le guin, mascot: lily evans
warnings/notes: exceedingly non-linear, first go writing petunia whoops could end badly. unbeta-ed, like basically everything i write, so as always, all mistakes are my fault.
disclaimer: disclaimed.
petunia & lily
x
love is the burden of a sister
we all have someone we think shines so much more than we do that we are not even a moon to their sun, but a dead little rock floating in space next to their gold and their blaze.
in the night garden—catherynne m. valente
i.
She had a sister, once.
ii.
There once were two girls who lived in Cokeworth; one was feisty and beautiful and turned out to have magic, and went off to a castle far away to have adventures and friends and meet the love of her life.
The other one was left behind.
iii.
Petunia Evans loves her sister from the day she's born to the day she dies, though sometimes she'll admit it to no-one, least of all herself.
The problem with Lily is that she's Lily; this means pretty, intelligent, kind, brave, loyal, righteous, gentle, strong, lovely, magical, perfect, perfect, perfect.
And then there's Petunia. It's as if when Lily was made, all the adjectives were used up on her and there's none left for Petunia, except Petunia came first.
Petunia wonders if maybe she just simply wasn't good enough.
Petunia loves her sister, but what's special about that, when everyone else does too?
iv.
"Let's play in the park," says Petunia, seven years old and already bossy.
Lily nods shyly, and Petunia revels in this loyal little follower who clasps her hand determinedly and marches alongside her elder sister.
"Your hair's awfully pretty, Lil," Petunia says suddenly, and the grin that Lily bequeaths on her is almost blinding.
"Jus' like yours, Tuney?" Lily asks delightedly, and Petunia privately thinks that Lily's hair is much prettier, but she smiles anyway.
v.
"She's such a freak," Petunia snarls, erasing the writing furiously. "I mean," she says, picking up the pencil to amend her essay, "really, perfect little Lily with her special school and her special friends all over in Scotland with her toads and teacups— ugh!"
Vernon nods snidely. Petunia is seventeen years old, all lipstick and perfume and trying to fit into your own skin, and she isn't in love with this man quite yet, but he loves her best, and she could almost love him for that alone.
It's awfully lonely, not being loved best by anyone.
She heard her mother, once, talking to her Aunt Lucinda. "Really, Lucinda, she's just so bitter all the time; imagine, sixteen years old and permanently scowling. I don't know what happened, she's so different to Lily," her mother had said and Petunia had run out of the house and all the way to the park before she burst into tears.
It's hard not to be bitter when everyone around you reminds you that they love your sister more, that they wish you were more like her, that they wish you were less like you. Every sound of delight from their mouths when they receive a letter from Lily hurts, but nothing cuts more than the seemingly endless "maybe if you tried to be a bit more like Lily"s that seem to just pour out of her mother's mouth because honestly, don't they think she's tried?
Lily this, and Lily that, and all Petunia can do is try to be the one person everyone always wishes she was, and fail.
vi.
Petunia writes to the Headmaster.
Dear Mister Headmaster Sir,
Is there any way—
Maybe if she asks nicely, she can be a witch too, and go off with Lily and have adventures and learn magic and maybe they just forgot to send her a letter when she was eleven or maybe they'll realise it wouldn't be fair if Lily went off as a witch and Petunia was left alone, because Petunia's the eldest and shouldn't she be the magical one, if only one of them can be?
Petunia knows deep down that Lily's always been the magical one, the special one, the one who shone brighter, but everyone always forgets how dearly Petunia loved her stories. The princess got rescued and the dragon was conquered and in the world of fairytales and fantasy, everything ended fairly. Petunia wishes the world she lives in was more like that, because sometimes it's so horribly unfair that she can't breathe.
The Headmaster writes back and he's very kind, but that's almost as heartbreaking as the words that he's written. She cries for hours, alone in her room, and nobody comes to find her.
She creeps down the stairs and sits near the top of the staircase, peering through the bars of the balustrade. Her mother is singing along to the radio and her father has pulled Lily onto his lap, chatting excitedly about magic, and the light of the kitchen is catching Lily's hair, making it look like fire, shining as brightly as she does.
Everyone forgets that when a candle is lit, it also casts a shadow. Everyone's too busy basking in the light to notice the girl with the tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes huddled in the corner.
vii.
"Will we be best friends forever?" Lily whispers when she's eight, crawling into Petunia's bed after a particularly horrific nightmare involving some man with a serpentine face.
Petunia kisses her sister on the forehead, sweeps back an errant lock of red hair, and whispers back a promise.
viii.
Lily is dead and Petunia thinks she hates her.
So special and glorious and loved by everyone and despite all of this, everything she had going for her, every inch she had on Petunia, she still went and died.
There is too much grief to bear, so Petunia settles for pretence: that Lily had what was coming for meddling with unnatural things, that she doesn't care, that she doesn't love her sister.
That is, until she looks at the boy.
He's all she has left of Lily, and if it wasn't for the letter, she'd have sent him away. She still loves her sister, deep down, and she'd do anything to protect Lily, but it hurts a bit too much to look at this boy and see so much of Lily in him; so much magic, courage, selflessness and bravery.
She keeps him, despite Vernon's questions and Dudley's infantile jealousy, because that will keep him safe and he is her sister's son. She loves him and hates him, and wants him to be safe but wishes she never had to see him again.
He doesn't understand, and she doesn't blame him, not really— he's never known Lily, truly, and even if he did, he would not know what it's like to be the unloved one. He's the saviour of his world, the last surviving piece of the legacy of Lily Evans and James Potter, and for that, he is glorified.
It occurs to her much later that under her treatment, he has become to Dudley what she was to Lily, and she feels regret, but also vindication. It sickens her, but she can't help the bead of satisfaction in her that whispers how just it is that Lily's son was made to feel by Petunia's son how Lily made Petunia feel.
She still looks at Harry and sees Lily, all of her bright light shining through. She still looks at Harry and sees James, the handsome ruffian who, to Petunia, symbolised magic and everything that took Lily away from her. She still looks at Harry and feels jealousy, guilt and the pain of old wounds, reopened again after every battle, but she keeps him anyway, because love is the burden of a sister.
ix.
He's not Lily, nor is he James, but he's the exact blend of them that would be the most painful, and not for the first time, Petunia truly believes Dumbledore is a sadist for asking her to look at him every day.
x.
"I'll write to you every day," Lily promises, looking desperately at her sister, but Petunia just stares past her blankly, resolute even against the sight of green eyes filling with tears.
xi.
This is how tragedies start, when great love forgets what it is and pretends it's something else entirely.
xii.
She looks at the bundle in her mother's arms with awe.
"Is... mi-mine?" she asks, tripping over her own words. "Tuney's?"
Her mother smiles softly at her and her father leans down to kiss her gently on the top of her head. "Yes, she's yours," her father tells her. "She's your baby sister, and you've got to take care of her. Can you do that for me?"
Petunia looks up at him, big blue eyes solemn. "I'mma be the bes' sister," she promises gravely, nodding as if to cement her promise. She glances up at her mother. "Can I touch?"
Her father picks her up and places her next to her mother, who shifts in her hospital bed to let Petunia nestle beside her. Petunia reaches out a chubby pink hand and strokes her sister with a touch so light, she can barely feel the skin. "So soft," Petunia marvels, and her parents exchange a loving beam over her blonde head.
"Wha's her name?" Petunia asks, looking up at her mother.
"I'm not sure yet," her mother says. "What do you think of your sister?"
Petunia bites her lip, thinking. "Soft an' pretty," she declares. "Like flower," she continues, pointing at the bouquet her father's holding and that Petunia selected at the hotel gift store.
Her parents glance at the bouquet as Petunia continues to examine her sister, and then at each other.
"Lily," her father says, and Petunia looks up with a beam.
"Soun's pretty," Petunia says, and looks down at her sister. "Lily," she whispers, kissing her softly on the cheek.
xiii.
Lily sends her a postcard, and Petunia sends her a vase.
She knows Lily'll hate it with every fibre of her being, but Petunia enjoys imagining James' expression when he sees it.
If she'd known what was coming, she'd have sent a photo instead; when she was clearing out her room, eighteen years old and desperate to leave, she'd found an old photo of her and Lily, hair in matching braids with sunflowers in their hands.
To this day, it lies at the base of the pink suitcase she's had since she was sixteen. It's all she has left to remind her of her sister, and as much as the sight of it fills her with longing, she can't bear to throw it away.
xiv.
She says goodbye to Harry and commits every detail to memory; the way his eyes light up just like hers did; the hair as tousled as James' was the first day Lily brought him home, beaming with joy; the vibrancy in him whenever magic comes up; the air of a bird poised for flight; his selflessness, courage and penchant for honesty— these are all the things she remembers, and in him, she sees Lily.
I'm sorry I couldn't save you, she screams inside her mind, but I tried to save your son and I hope he survives this. Even if it's the only thing I could ever do and even if it's just because of you, because I'm your sister, because you're special and I'm second best, I still did it because I love you and I'm sorry, and for a second, she sees Lily instead of Harry.
But the moment passes and the words catch in her throat, and she says goodbye to her sister and all that's left of her for the final time.
xv.
"Will we be best friends forever?" her sister asks.
"I'll love you forever and ever," Petunia promises.
They fall asleep, holding onto a promise.
a/n i. ahaha wow this competition sure pushes the boundaries of what people [aka me] normally write. sigh. i'm not going to put my opinion of this piece, just the request that you pretty please review and pretty please don't favourite without reviewing! i got this one up before the deadline because hellish week ahead, yay~