A/N: This was supposed to be a prologue of sorts (hence the fic title) to a Harry Potter fanfic that I never got to write. Anyway, the plan was, Peter Pan and Susan Pevensie as Petunia and Lily Evans' parents. First posted in ao3. If you ever see any errors in grammar/punctuation/spelling, please comment it. Also, if you have the time, please review! Thanks!
She stood there for a long while, all alone, staring at the headstones of her family lined neatly in front of her. She bit her lip and placed the single stalk of flower she held in her hand on one of the headstones.
"You have always been His favourite," she mumbled while she squatted down, running her fingers against the slab of white stone where her younger sister's name was carved.
From the corner of her eye, she saw movement. She immediately straightened: perhaps it was one of the guests from earlier. It was a man, that much she deduced from where she was standing. The man wore a cap and a coat, that much she could see. He wasn't holding any bouquet or at least one flower.
As he drew nearer, she quickly realized he wasn't in the funeral from before.
He stopped, a few graves away from her, and put down on it what seemed to be an... acorn? And stepped away from the grave, smiled and turned to his heel.
"Why?" she blurted out loudly.
He looked at her with his eyes wide in surprise. It seemed he never realized she was there. And when he looked at her, she realized who he was. It was the boy from three years ago, the one who'd ask her to dance. The charming boy soldier who came from the war. The one rumored to have killed people ruthlessly as if they were nothing. Even his own comrades for deserting.
"What 'Why?'" he replied.
She gestured to the acorn.
He looked at the object for awhile, and gave a wistful smile. "It's a kiss. Every year, I leave her one."
She looked at him disbelievingly.
Still, he pressed on, "It's the least I could do—I promised her and I didn't push through with the promise. I..." He hung his head, ashamed. "I forgot."
She turned to look at her siblings' grave. She swallowed. "Did you choose it?"
"No!" he turned to her, his eyes flashing and voice rising. It was as if the very idea of it was disgusting to him.
She looked down and pursed her lips, before starting to speak again. "At least you didn't. I did. And I chose to forget and—..." she paused sharply as she realized she was wringing her gloved hands. She sighed and looked at him. "And now I'm all alone."
He watched her, carefully, tentatively, and glanced at the headstones of her family. He looked at her again. "Tell me," he said as he took a step towards her. "Tell me the story."