For the One a Week Competition (week 3, 300 words, Petunia Dursley)
She doesn't tell Vernon where she is. He would laugh at the thought and call her foolish. After all, Vernon was happy to wash his hands of the boy. Maybe Petunia was too, in a way, but now she finds herself alone in the back of the chapel as Harry stands at the altar.
When his bride walks down the aisle, Petunia forgets how to breathe. A twinge of guilt tears at her insides as she notices the red hair on the young woman. Lily's hair was darker, but Petunia can't help but to see her sister in the stranger. Harry's resemblance to his father makes it even more unnerving.
She should have been at her sister's wedding all those years ago. She had considered it, but, in the end, she had thrown the invitation in the fireplace, her final act of severing all ties with Lily.
She regret it later, of course. It took years, but her bitterness melted away, and she found herself wishing she could have had one last moment with her sister. She doesn't know if witches have the same sort of afterlife that regular people do, but she can't help but to think that Lily is smiling down on her, laughing about silly, stubborn Tuney finally coming around.
…
"I'm surprised you came," Harry says as she tries to slip away unnoticed.
Petunia takes a deep breath. It's been years since she has spoken to the boy, and she doesn't quite know how to approach him now. She offers him a shaky smile. "I owed it to your mother."
She starts to walk away, but Harry catches her by the hand. "Stay. Ginny is going to dance with her father. I know we didn't have the best relationship, but maybe you could stand in for my mum."
Petunia blinks rapidly, trying to ignore the tears stinging her eyes. "I would be honored."