A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.

Defense Against the Dark Arts Task 1: Write about somebody trying to concentrate on something difficult (Petunia writing her letter, Lucius and his paperwork)

Word Count: 745

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.

WARNINGS: Slightly controlling relationship

Thanks to Grace for beta'ing!

Enjoy!

Petunia tried to keep the tears from falling as she picked up a pen and grabbed a piece of stationery. Her hand hovered over the pristine white paper as she hesitated, unsure how to put her feelings into words.

Lucius was a room away, sitting in his office as he concentrated on his paperwork from the Ministry. He'd groaned all night about how gruelling it was, never once stopping to ask her how her day had been.

Once upon a time, he would have. Once upon a time, she'd felt loved by him. But not anymore.

There had been something so romantic about their forbidden romance at first. He was a wizard of the highest esteem; she was a Muggle his family would disapprove of. Sneaking around had been thrilling. It was an excitement Petunia had never felt before. She'd been so happy—even her relationship with Lily had improved. Magic didn't seem so unnatural when someone as distinguished as Lucius was performing it.

But shortly after moving in with the man, Petunia realized that Lucius meant to hide her from the rest of the world. He was ashamed.

Petunia couldn't live as someone's best kept secret.

She heard his quill scratching against parchment and could suddenly, with perfect clarity, picture him hunched over his desk, blond hair spilling over his shoulders and brow furrowed. It was almost enough to have her give up on writing the letter. Almost.

She swallowed thickly and wrote the first two words in her careful handwriting. Dear Lucius.

She hesitated again. What should she say? How could she explain? Their relationship had been splintering for months now; surely he must know that this was coming?

She shook her head slightly and moved the pen across paper. I've had such a lovely time with you over these last two years.

And my, they had been lovely. Picnics in secluded areas, dancing in the cover of darkness, and more laughter than Petunia had ever imagined would leave her mouth. And the way he smiled at her… it made her blush just thinking about it.

But those days had ended. Now her world was a dark, empty house and a lover who had to pretend he was alone to avoid causing a scandal. Her resolve thickened and she tried to keep her thoughts from distracting her again.

Those years have gone, now. I still love you, but I won't be the thing you hide away. I'm worth more than that. You have proven that, given a choice between your own happiness and your reputation, you would choose your reputation every time.

Coughing sounded from the next room.

"Petunia? Could I have my afternoon tea, please?"

His voice was impatient, aggravated—which infuriated Petunia. He was mad at his paperwork, not her, and was completely blind to the emotional crisis she was having. But she just called out sweetly, "In a minute, dear. I'll start then."

Her hands were beginning to shake. I want to have a partner who is proud to be seen with me, and I have finally realized that I can't find that in you.

She would miss the way he played with her blonde hair before bed. She would miss the way he held her hair back when she was sick, and how he always did laundry (without magic) just because he didn't want her to have to.

Her grip tightened on her pen. No. Those kindnesses were long gone, and the sooner she accepted that, the better.

So it is with these words that I leave you.

Yours,

She paused before signing her name. How would Lucius react? Would he follow her?

She glanced behind her. She could just barely make out his silhouette in the doorway, his back to her.

No, she decided. If he was that invested in the relationship, he'd have made more of an effort.

She swallowed.

Petunia.

She turned the kettle on, the letter clutched in her shaking hand. She walked into the bedroom she shared with Lucius and placed the paper, neatly folded, onto his pillow.

She walked back out and poked her head in the door of his study. "The water's boiling," she said calmly. "I'm going to nip out for a moment."

Lucius looked up sharply, half concerned, half annoyed at being interrupted. "Don't be seen," he warned her.

She nodded and stepped outside—then just kept walking. There was nothing to turn back to, after all. It was time to be free.