Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Playground school bell rings again
Rain clouds come to play again
Has no one told you she's not breathing?
Hello I'm your mind giving you someone to talk to
Hello
I sat on the doorstep, holding the baby in my arms. Her baby. While she lay in the cold ground, I was lucky enough to hold her baby. The world was acting as if nothing had happened last night. As if my sister hadn't died. As if Lily Potter was alive and well, raising her own son.
But she wasn't. I knew that little Harry would lead a life that was miserable, because Vernon and I were scared of magic. I knew he would hate us when he was older. And I hated they way I knew I couldn't change any of it.
I couldn't believe life went on. I had never apologized for being horrible to Lily. I had never said sorry. And now it was too late. I swore to myself I would do anything to keep this boy from the world's notice. My Harry was going to be so normal, no crazy person would try to kill him again.
It was impossible to believe Lily was dead. How could she be dead? She was always full of life, smiling, tossing her red hair, letting her emerald eyes sparkle. She couldn't be dead.
If I smile and don't believe
Soon I know I'll wake from this dream
Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken
Hello I am the lie living for you so you can hide
Don't cry
I thought if I refused to believe she was dead, maybe she'd come back. I thought this was a bad dream. I had lost my only sister, denial was quite useful. I wanted Lily back, to help me raise these two boys, mine and hers. I wanted a sister to gossip to, to call when Vernon and I argued.
I would give anything to have met this Voldemort. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. He might think magic could save him from anything, but I would have killed him. He took away my chance of having a family. Of Dudley having many cousins, to play with, to laugh with, to argue with. Voldemort ruined everything I could have had.
I cried for Lily often. I regretted everything, every harsh word. I wrote letter after letter to her, burning them, burying them, doing anything I could so that they might reach her. I wanted her to know how sorry I was. How unfair it was for me to be the one to watch her son grow up. It wasn't fair he had to be so victimized. But it was keeping him out of sight. It was keeping him safe. No one looked twice at him. No one suspected he was the world's salvation.
I was sure Lily, wherever she was, hated me for what I was doing to our Harry. She couldn't hear my thoughts, no matter how many letters I wrote to her. She couldn't understand why I thought hurting him was preferable to letting anyone figure out who he was. I wanted to protect him. Every time he gave me a hateful glance, my heart ached. How many times did I want to tell him everything? Too many to count.
But what was the point of him knowing? It would only hurt him. I wanted to shelter him from himself, keep him from the knowledge that one day he would have to sacrifice everything in order to save the world.
I kept up my charade, never letting him see how much I cared. I never let him know how much it hurt when he came back from Hogwarts, after his first year, and I had gotten a letter saying he had faced Voldemort again. I nearly killed Dumbledore when he came to tell me. I had my hands around his neck, before he used magic to push me away. His face was surprised as I screamed at him, blaming him for letting that bastard get near my Harry.
Because he was my Harry too. He wasn't just Lily's. And I would never forgive Dumbledore for letting him be put in harm's way. In second year, when I heard about him facing a basilisk, I cried. Once again my Harry was in danger, and Dumbledore couldn't do anything. Third year, I never got the full story. I think Dumbledore was afraid of telling me. I knew his godfather was back, and I was terrified he would leave us. For the entire summer, I woke up from nightmares, sweat pouring from my body, terrified Harry had left us.
I never wanted to be a bad aunt. I wanted to love him. Fourth year, no one told me anything until it was over. I slapped Dumbledore so hard, for putting my Harry through all that. I tried to get my hands around his throat, but he disappeared with a crack. Fifth year was even worse to be told about. I could see how much Harry hated being with us that summer. I wanted to go to him, and comfort him. To tell him I knew how much losing someone you loved hurt, and to be his pillar of support.
I was afraid to actually do it though. He hated me, he mistrusted me. Why should I be able to help him? Sixth year, no one told me what happened, and I was left to guess. I couldn't even guess. It was the worse feeling, ever, to watch him live in fear and not know why.
Seventh year was spent in worry, as I listened to the news avidly, trying to find out any information at all. He never came by to see us after the war was over. I got a note explaining everything from the new Headmistress, Professor McGonagall. She treated me with cold disdain. I knew I deserved it.
Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping
Hello I'm still here
All that's left of yesterday
I got short, meaningless letter every time Harry had a child. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I was writing to Lily daily, and there was no answer. There never was an answer. So, I took matters into my own hands. I figured out when his youngest would be eleven. That September first, I went to Kings Cross Station.
I stood by Platform Nine and Ten, getting there at six in the morning, and waited. Finally, around ten, they came. It was the first time I had seen Harry in twenty-one years. He was so handsome, his wife was beautiful. I knew she was his wife, it was obvious how in love they were. His children, oh, his children. They were perfection. James looked just like his namesake, dark, messy hair, and hazel eyes. He was tall. He was fourteen now and completely bored with the world. Albus had red-brown hair and green eyes. He was thirteen, and a perfect mixture of his parents. He had his school stuff in a trolley before him, surveying the area with wide, expectant eyes. It was Lily that shocked me. She was Lily, down to the last curl on her head, to her wide green eyes. It terrified me, and warmed me, how much she looked like my Lily, like my sister.
I was all that was left of that legacy. I was the last one of that generation. So, gathering up my courage, I walked over. I was behind them, and tried to think of what to say. "Lily, you look just like your grandmother." I startled them, as they all spun around, to see who was talking.
"Aunt Petunia?" Harry gasped, his face surprised.
"I may have missed James' and Albus' first day of school, but I as sure as hell wasn't going to miss Lily's. I need to be present at least one, don't you think?" I smiled widely. "Your family is beautiful, Harry." I turned to walk away, since he was glaring at me. But, something stopped me. I slipped my dairy, the one I kept while raising him, into his hands. "It explains everything… or so I hope." With that, I walked away.
Two week later, Harry showed up on my doorstep, his wife in tow. He gave me a big hug. And as he did, he whispered in my ear, "I understand. I forgive you. I love you."