Author: Isabel Cruz
Category: General/Drama.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: PS/SS, COS, POA, OOTP
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: An AU branching off at POA, but taking OOTP canon into account. Voldemort chooses a different servant and a different plan of return. Meanwhile, Harry arrives home the summer after his second year and suffers from nightmares that make his scar ache, finds his muggle family gone slightly mad, and there's a deranged convict out for his blood. Told from Petunia's POV, WiP.
Characters: Petunia, Vernon jr., Harry, Ron and Hermione, various Weasleys, Lily
Ships: Petunia/Vernon
Note: For the purposes of this story, Petunia and Lily are assumed to have been twins.
Note Two: The timeline followed in this story has been modified somewhat from the original in regards to Sirius' escape and the Weasleys' trip to Egypt but is year-wise accurate according to canon; Harry's first year at Hogwarts was 1991, and if Snape was 34/35 during GoF, then MWPP/Lily are/would have been 33/34 during POA.
Late October, 1992
Petunia Dursley was dreaming.
She was competing in the first annual National Pudding Competition, and her fabulous double-dark chocolate pudding decorated with elegant strawberries was certain to win her first place. Sure enough, a few moments later and Petunia was crowned the first mistress of pudding. The Queen herself was congratulating Petunia, and asking Vernon to take a picture of her and Petunia with the magnificent dessert.
Petunia smiled and waved to the crowd of fans. Vernon and Dudley were beaming up at her from the front row; Yvonne and Marge were there too, cheering loudly. Even Petunia's parents were in attendance, looking as though they were about to burst with pride. As Petunia basked in the praises of her family and friends, she glimpsed a splash of red from the corner of her eye. Turning, Petunia's smile became a frown as she saw Lily, sitting next to their parents. What was she doing there? Lily, oblivious as always to Petunia's shifts in mood, grinned up at her sister.
Lily's eyes met Petunia's, and the scene changed.
Petunia found herself with Lily in the garden of one of their childhood neighbors. They were carefully standing at an angle where the neighbor in question, Mrs. Stevenson, couldn't see the two girls plundering the flowerbeds. The sun was out and shining, but it wasn't hot. Petunia recognized the memory as having taken place in the last July before Lily went to Hogwarts.
"I don't like tulips," Lily said, breaking the stem of one of the offending plants to show it to Petunia. "They don't open up like normal flowers do, and they're not pretty. Look, even the colors are bad. This one's supposed to be white, but it's gray in places."
Petunia struggled to remember what she'd said to Lily as a reply. "It's too bad we can't get the roses. I can't believe Mrs. Stevenson moved them under the windows. It's inconsiderate."
"Inconsiderate? It's downright criminal of her. People should be able to appreciate pretty flowers, not just look at them from a distance," Lily grumbled, crumpling the white-gray tulip.
Petunia hesitated, and looked up at the house. "Isn't this where the dog chases us away?"
"You mean Mitzie?" Lily asked. "She's running a little late right now, lots to do in preparation. She'll be along in a second."
Right on cue, a high pitched bark sounded, and a miniature poodle came tearing through the yard. Petunia and Lily dropped the abused flowers and ran. They sprinted across six gardens before entering their parents' house and dashing up the stairs. The poodle was easy to outrun, but Mrs. Stevenson was doubtlessly en route to the Evans' home, equipped with evidence of the flower destruction and plotting to name Petunia and Lily as the perpetrators.
"Quick, we need an alibi!" Petunia gasped, pulling a book from the shelf in the room she shared with Lily. "I've been reading all afternoon. You?"
"Writing in my diary for the past half hour," Lily said, already sprawled on her bed, scribbling furiously in said diary and, Petunia noted with a slight bit of jealously, not at all out of breath.
Petunia sat on her bed, gripping the book. "They'll be here any minute now," she said, glancing at the door.
"No, they're not coming this time," Lily said, still writing. "Things are going to be different from now on."
"No," Petunia said. "Mum and Mrs. Stevenson are about to come in here and yell at us, and we'll spend the next week replanting those awful tulips. The day after that, you'll be getting the letter from Hogwarts."
"Don't be such a drama queen, Petunia," said Lily, snapping her diary shut. "All that's been taken care of. Now, pay attention. I can only show you once."
Petunia turned to look at her sister, about to correct her again, when Lily and her bed seemed to flicker. The bed was suddenly much larger, a medieval four-poster bed with red curtains. Lily was no longer an eleven-year-old girl with a messy ponytail, but instead a young woman wearing a black school robe.
Lily pressed the wall just to the left of her bed in three places, clockwise in the shape of a triangle, each point about six inches from the last. The wall seemed to fold in on itself, displaying a large, ornate metal lock. Lily pulled her wand from her sleeve, and said, "Muto Clavis."
The tip of Lily's wand changed, stretching and reforming to the shape of an old-fashioned key. Lily pushed the wand-key into the lock, and twisted. The lock clicked and swung away from the wall, revealing a small cavity. Lily placed her diary in the cavity and shut the lock, pulling her wand out. After a few seconds the wand and the wall returned to their former selves without any indication they'd been changed at all.
Lily put the wand away, and smiled at her sister. "Did you see?"
Petunia blinked. Eleven-year-old Lily was back, and the diary was gone. "What does all that nonsense have to do with anything?"
"Absolutely everything," Lily said, standing. "You've got to learn patience, Petunia. Or rather, you've got to remember patience. It's not about the magic"
"You're not making any sense," Petunia said. "This isn't how things went."
"I already told you, and we're almost out of time," Lily said. "It's all different now, especially you and me." Lily tilted her head to one side. "You're practically glowing."
Petunia shook her head. "No, it isn't. I'm the same as I always was."
"No, you're not," Lily said. As if to prove her point, Lily seated herself next to Petunia. "Here, feel this," Lily took Petunia's hand in her own, and pressed it against Petunia's stomach. "It's too soon for kicks, but he's still there."
Petunia gasped as she felt a hard bump, tiny as it was, within her body. "Just listen," Lily continued, "and maybe we can hear him."
Petunia and Lily were silent for a few moments before they were able to hear it. A steady, rapid series of thumps, two right after each other in between beats of silence.
"You can hear that, right?" Lily asked, searching Petunia's confused expression for conformation.
Petunia nodded, "But how-"
"Oh, you know perfectly well 'how'," Lily said. The redhead grinned again. "It's marvelous, isn't it? Second time's the charm and you'll love him just the same, regardless of blood."
Petunia pushed her sister's hand away. "This is wrong. You're wrong. This is all wrong."
"Petunia, Petunia," Lily said. "You were always such a pessimist. Everything's going to be fine in the end, you'll see."
Ignoring her sister, Petunia wrapped her arms around her body. "This is wrong," she repeated. "And—and I think I'm going to be ill."
"Well then," Lily said. "It's time you woke up."
Petunia woke.
Vernon's snores and a tangle of sheets, the floor was dreadfully cold, and the next thing she knew Petunia was being sick over the toilet. Her hair was plastered to the side of her face with sweat, and, Petunia noted, as last night's dinner was flushed away and whatever odd dream she may or may not have fled to the recesses of her mind, this was the third time in a week that she'd awoken in such a state. It was past time to see a doctor.
Nearly two weeks passed before Petunia's appointment with her doctor. She was nauseous every other morning, and would have assumed it was due to stomach flu had other factors not led her to an entirely different conclusion.
Petunia smoothed her skirt anxiously, giving surreptitious glances to the other patients in the waiting room before returning to her magazine. Trying to guess what awful diseases the disreputable looking brunette in the corner most certainly had kept Petunia from dwelling on the fact that she'd arrived fifteen minutes late for her appointment, due to traffic. It was kind enough of the doctor to squeeze her in on such short notice, and a faulty light had made her late. Petunia Dursley was never late. For anything. Ever.
Finally, the nurse called her name, and Petunia was directed to a small examination room. She pursed her lips in annoyance, and after the nurse left to fetch the doctor, craned her long neck around the door to see if the good, corner room at the end of the hall was in use. It was.
Before Petunia could do any snooping, the doctor entered. Doctor Havensford was fairly old, very bald, and had an abnormally short nose, but he'd been with Petunia since she was pregnant with Dudley.
After the doctor gave Petunia a cursory exam and she described her symptoms, he ordered a nurse to perform a quick blood test and left to see other patients.
Petunia waited for another fifteen minutes before the nurse returned and ushered her into the doctor's office, where she continued to wait.
Petunia was getting rather tired of waiting, and was contemplating the morality of peeking inside the folders on the doctor's desk. There wasn't any harm in looking at her own file, was there? And her file might well be one of those on top of the desk. Unfortunately, Doctor Havensford's arrival with her folder in hand precluded any sort of resolution to Petunia's moral dilemma.
"Well, Mrs. Dursley," Doctor Havensford said, opening Petunia's file on his desk. "According to this, you are about seven weeks pregnant."
"That is not possible," Petunia said, straightening her posture. "I'm on the pill."
The doctor frowned. "You've been taking it every day, at the same time?"
Petunia nodded. "The same brand I've used for years, nothing like this has ever happened before."
"Have you taken any other medications?" Doctor Havensford asked.
"Only some allergy pills, over the counter," Petunia said.
Doctor Havensford appeared oddly triumphant. "That's what did it—happens all the time. Drug interactions." The doctor's expression became serious. "I realize this is an unplanned pregnancy. However, I assume that it is not an unwelcome pregnancy."
"Oh, of course not," Petunia asserted. "My husband and I have always wanted more children, but when we took in my dear sister's, God rest her soul, orphaned son," here Petunia paused, waiting for her listener to give the sympathetic nod typically received in oral retellings of the Dursley family's selfless act in taking in Harry. After the doctor obliged, she continued, "We found ourselves so caught up in raising both boys—my nephew, despite our efforts, has been something of a problem child—that the subject stopped coming up. But I know Vernon will be simply ecstatic when he hears the news."
"Well, in that case, congratulations are in order," the doctor said. "Now, first of all, you need to stop taking your birth control pills, and there are certain foods which you should incorporate into your diet…."