DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
A/N: I don't know what exactly I was trying to write when I started this, but this is what came out... Inspired by the track "love pain" from the soundtrack of Le Portrait de Petite Cossette.
~ Love Pain ~
Now that Lily has finally given him a chance, James Potter and his friends are always intruding on the Evans family's time. Tonight, "the Marauders" (as they've styled themselves) are joining them for dinner, and they are telling stories and laughing and everyone is enjoying themselves, except-
Petunia leaves the table in the middle of the meal - not saying a word to anyone, just getting up and walking away. She flees to the backyard.
She hears footsteps behind her, light enough that they might belong to Lily, and she hopes for a moment that it is her sister who has come after her, but she knows that it is more likely her mother, and she does not turn around. She is not in the mood to be lectured about her rude behavior. She just needs a few moments alone, away from the crowd, to breathe.
"Something wrong?"
The voice behind her is male, and she can't quite place which of the four wizards it belongs to. Not the little chunky one, she is reasonably sure, but which of the other three it is, she can't be certain. She does not turn around to find out; his identity does not particularly matter.
"I just... couldn't stand being in there anymore," she says.
"Why not?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious rather than falsely sympathetic. When she fails to respond immediately, he presses, "Because you hate us?"
She doesn't hate them. They are magic, and she loves magic, even if she doesn't have any of her own, and she loves-
"No," she replies, too quickly. "No, I just... couldn't. Anymore."
She wants to explain, but she can't. She still isn't sure whether the person standing behind her is Potter or not, and how can she explain her jealousy to a stranger, especially if it is him, how can she say that she is envious of their magic and their love, and even if she were to speak her thoughts aloud, how would he ever be able to understand?
She chokes back the words she so longs to say, and hopes he does not hear the hitch in her breathing. She is about to cry, she just knows it, and she doesn't want to, not now, not with this person standing there waiting for her to explain-
And then his hands are on her shoulders and he's saying, "It's okay."
She feels the brush of leather against her bare skin, and she knows now which one of them he is, and although he's the one she would have least expected to come and see if she was alright, she is glad that it's not Potter.
She turns to him and whispers, "I love-"
But her voice breaks and the tears begin to fall, and he gathers her against him in a tight embrace that she supposes is meant to be comforting, although it does little to ease her ill feelings.
"Who?" he asks gently. "James?"
Because it makes sense to him that it would be Potter, because if it was Pettigrew or Lupin or himself, then - even if it turned out that they felt nothing for her - it still wouldn't be a problem, because there was a chance of reciprocation should she choose to make a declaration.
"Because I would understand if it was James," he says, and in his voice she hears-
And in that moment she knows that he will understand, and she doesn't care if it's wrong, not now that she can finally tell someone.
She whispers against his neck, "Lily."
~end~