Story Title: Petunia the Petulant

Chapter Title: Trials

Author's Note: Spent some time bringing together some ideas before this next chapter; hence, the space of time. Will try to update more frequently, but don't worry; I've got it all planned out. Although there was originally no overt slash intended in this story, it follows very well along a plotline of a previous story I'm still working on that is HP/DM slash. However, that is not the focus of this story at all, so I don't expect it to be more than guessable, and intend for this story to stand on its own regardless of what I do with the others either before or after. Thanks for the reviews; they are always appreciated. Enjoy!

Petunia, the Petulant

Trials

It was dinnertime, and while all the school-aged students were in the dining hall, Draco Malfoy was just making his inconspicuous exit from Lupin's classroom when he thought he heard the unmistakable sound of a woman crying. Drawing up short in the hallway, he wondered for a moment if it were Moaning Myrtle, whom he had neglected to visit ever since he had fled the scene of Dumbledore's death. While he wasn't exactly afraid of her, he had been trying to avoid her, without really thinking about it. He wasn't exactly proud of how things had been that last year, and really, he just wanted to forget about it all-but the woman's voice was definitely that of an adult, and sounded more alive than Myrtle's. He paused, listening, but did not recognize it.

The sound seemed to be coming from an alcove off to the left, before the stairway. Slowly, he approached, until he could make out a dark shape huddled just behind a large potted plant, sobbing softly with her face to the wall. She looked familiar, actually-

Too late, Draco realized who it was, and as the white, mortified face turned to look at him, he knew it was too late now to simply walk by. It was clear Mrs. Dursley recognized him, too. Sighing inwardly, he feigned genuine concern-really, he was mostly curious-and made to carefully approach, lest he scare her away.

"Mrs. Dursley…Potter's aunt?"

"Y..yes," she sniffled, her expression one of heartbreaking vulnerability. Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"I thought that was you. What on earth are you doing here?"

She merely looked at him, sniffling through her tears unabashed, and he felt his face growing a little warm. Their last meeting hadn't been terribly amiable, but then, though he'd been having fun at her expense, he was not sure if she'd ever put two and two together. Perhaps she had not.

"Are you looking for Harry? Is he here? I'd heard last he was away," he tried again.

She shook her head and turned back away, lost in her sorrows, apparently. He saw then that she was trembling, and, not wanting to be found at fault at the scene of some unknown crime, he looked around quickly, then crouched next to her.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Dursley? What's wrong? How did you get here?"

"I-I-I…Oh!" She began to sob in earnest, the sound carrying up into the arched alcove. Draco hastily shushed her, trying not to sound impatient.

"Mrs. Dursley, what's the matter? Should I find your nephew for you? Tell him you're here? Come on, let's find the Headmaster; he can sort this-"

"N-no, no, not the Headmaster." She shook her head vehemently, to Draco's surprise. "Not him." Mrs. Dursley seemed to gather herself then, wiping her face on her black sleeve. "No, I'm all right. Just had a bit of a fright, that's all."

"Ah…ha. Not used to Hogwarts, are we?" He tried to keep the sneer out of his voice; he really did. He hoped she would not get the wrong idea.

"No. I came…oh, but you'll think it's silly."

"Please, tell me," Draco coaxed, now very curious indeed. What was she doing here, and did Headmaster Snape know of her presence? Did Potter?

"All right. I'll tell you," she gulped, and she glared at him almost defiantly. "Remember when you came to visit my nephew, when you came to stay, because, because of…"

"Voldemort, yes…certainly. Just last summer."

"Yes. And, you know, we didn't speak much, but in the kitchen, before you left…with the wand…you saw me…you…you…the china…"

Draco was puzzled, and his expression must have shown it, because the Muggle woman was looking like she was about to burst into tears again as she gazed helplessly at him.

Then, suddenly, a horrible realization began to grow.

"The china. That-that you broke," he tried lamely, desperate to cover up his shame. Her face lit up, make him feel only worse.

"Yes. I know it seems silly, but-the truth is, I thought maybe it meant-maybe-I had something magical in me…it sounds so ridiculous when I say it out loud," she concluded tearfully, and Draco thought he'd never felt more uncomfortable in all his life.

"Of course you did," he said, hating himself for continuing the charade. "And you came here, not knowing where else to go, to see if you could find out for sure."

"Exactly. Yes…you understand. You understood then, although I know you didn't think very well of me last summer, after the way I treated my nephew…" Harry's aunt looked like she were about to dissolve into tears again. She gulped as Draco put a tentative hand politely on her shoulder and moved it back and forth. "I suffered so much. I was so…so dead inside, you see. I know it's no excuse, but you don't know what it's like; you're so naturally gifted. So special. Like…like my sister. Harry's mother, you see. And she left me when we were so young, so very young, and went where I couldn't follow. I felt I had to come here. Even if it were all for nothing. But…I can't even walk down the halls without doing something foolish. Look at me!" She held out her hand, which trembled, and stared at him, haunted. "I'm like this all the time!"

Draco could not think of anything to say to this, and merely listened, attempting to maintain an understanding expression. But what he was really thinking was that he was so, so screwed…just add Harry to the list of people who would be furious with him, growing in his mind as he sat there. You're going to have to 'fess up, his conscience told him; it had gotten inconveniently bold in the last year, unfortunately. Sometimes he really wished he could go back to being oblivious to anything but the pursuit of this or that single goal. All this having to worry about how his actions affected other people was really starting to get to him, he reflected wearily. Like being a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.

He began to stand up, his hands on Mrs. Dursley's shoulders, gently coaxing her to her feet.

"I understand completely, Mrs. Dursley. You did the right thing. I'm sure I would have done it myself, if I were in your shoes," he cooed, silver-tongued. She could not take her eyes from his, as if his very words were keeping her alive. "It's understandable that you'd take some adjusting. Hogwarts is a pretty dangerous place, actually," he laughed with a hint of hysteria, imagining the public scene of humiliation he expected to be the end of his own career with Hogwarts, or all respectable wizard society, for that matter.

"You really mean that?" The tiny woman asked, cradling into him so that he resisted holding her away.

"Of course. I can see you're afraid of the Headmaster-just a little bit?" He asked, as she gave a barely perceptible shake of her head. He recognized the obstinate curl of her lip, and chose his words carefully. "All you need is a little support. Someone in your corner, an ally. I'll tell you what. If you like, I can have a word with him. After all, I'm your only witness-so far, unless there's ever been any other incident like-no? All right, then," he sighed, smiling, now imagining himself bravely walking a plank to his watery doom, to the jeers of everyone he had ever known and was about to disappoint. "You just leave it to me, Mrs. Dursley. And in the meantime," he joked wryly, accepting her grateful embrace, "try not to get blown up."

As soon as the door to his office closed behind Malfoy's noiseless exit, Severus stood up and began to stalk, catlike, around, looking for something he could destroy and, finding nothing, glaring at everything. His fault! Foolish Malfoy's unthinking jest that Lily's sister had resurfaced here, like revenge beyond the grave, just when he thought he'd paid his debt, could let it go, begin to live…

He had been so overtaken with fury he had almost, almost, actually struck the boy. He'd raised his hand, and Malfoy, unused to abuse, had flinched. A deep, deep hatred for himself, the like of which he'd only felt one other time in his life, had stopped him. He'd disguised the gesture, badly, as fist thumbed onto a shelf, Dumbledore's bowl of uneaten candy (he'd not been able to throw them away) shooting pieces out onto the floor. Malfoy's face, white and confused, stared back at him, and Severus had had to turn away, choking on a memory. In it, of course, he'd not been the one standing towering over the foolish, stupid boy who didn't understand-

But it was all right, Severus had told himself immediately, talking himself down as he'd delivered some kind of empty, vicious speech. Regardless of Malfoy's idiotic prank with the china, he could not have known that Petunia did have some ability, which she herself had proven in his office the other day. If it hadn't been for Malfoy cruelly convincing the woman that she had made the china break of her own accord, Severus might never have made this incredible discovery-thoughts of his little project, his burgeoning research, and the recognition which it might bring him, soothed and quelled the heaving, hot rage he felt toward Lily. He would be able to rebuild his legacy. He would be known, if it was the last thing he did, for something more than being "Dumbledore's man."

Turning back to Malfoy, in his usual calm, acidic voice, he treated him to an appropriate amount of disgrace before relieving him with the information of the happy accident. Lucky for him, he'd spat, Mrs. Dursley was something unusual-and for that reason, he was considering letting her stay.

"And me, sir?" Malfoy had asked, his voice as small as an elf's.

"You," he'd said smugly, relishing the taste of his power, "will say nothing of this to anyone, without my express permission, and you're to have nothing to do with Mrs. Dursley or Potter on this matter, is that understood? Good. Now get out of my sight, before I change my mind."

Now there was nothing but to face the Dursley woman.

She was nothing like Lily. And yet, Lily, he knew, would be there the moment he opened the door, staring back at him through Petunia's eyes, triumphant and cold.

Well, let her. He'd use Petunia to his own purposes, and then Lily would see how her revenge would backfire.

"I've paid my debt to you," he whispered, clenching his fists. He took a deep breath. He went to the door.

"So, you've decided to face me after all, Severus? And what do you have to say for yourself?"

"How did you create that Patronus?" Severus demanded to know immediately. It was clear this was the only topic that had been on his mind for the last three days, when Petunia had been wandering the halls staggering from one disastrous humiliation to the next.

"How did I what?"

"The Patronus. From your wand. Surely you remember."

"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about. If this is some sorry attempt to set me up with some sort of crime so you can have me booted out of here, I promise you, it will not work! It will take more than persecution to get me out of Hogwarts, Severus, and when I tell my nephew Harry-"

"You mean you don't even remember casting a spell? It came seeping out of your wand, clear as day. It rose between us just before your headache. Do you remember now?"

He was waiting, for Petunia must have looked shocked as she realized what he was referring to. The silvery, blue smoke…could that have come from her?

"That was a-a what did you call it?"

"Patronus," he repeated patiently. "It's called a Patronus, and it is a very powerful spell, used by magical people to protect themselves in times of intense fear and dismay. You've heard of dementors?"

"Yes…" she frowned, still trying to put it all together. She'd cast a spell?!

"Yes, your son had a run-in with them. The Patronus charm is how your nephew saved him, staving off the dementors until help could come. It is no simple trick, Mrs. Dursley. In fact, it takes several years for even some of our best students to master, and Potter himself went through some extraordinary effort to learn it. You must have been taught it somehow. Tell me, how did you manage it?"

"I…I don't know," she said finally, deciding that the truth was the best strategy, until she could figure out a way to make this work in her favor. "I've never done it before."

"Never?" Severus questioned, clearly implying that she might be lying.

"No, never, sir, as I said. I have never even heard of it, and I certainly have not seen it."

"But you implied," he persisted, leaning forward and peering at her as if at an animal specimen in a lab cage, "that you had some skill when you came here. So you must have done something like it before, Mrs. Dursley."

"I successfully smashed a piece of china without touching it, with the help of the same wand, but that's all. I think that is more than enough evidence that I have the ability, however."

"And how did you obtain that wand? And what were the circumstances surrounding your experience? An accident? Are you certain it was you?"

"Look," she said forcefully, attempting to stare him down, "I know it was from me. I was the only person in the room, I and-" she stopped for a moment, fearful. Could it have been a trick? But then, the Patronus-

"And?"

"One of your former students, who was teaching me. Letting me experiment, you might say."

"Ha! Potter?"

"No. The other boy who came to stay last summer. His name was Draco. Malvo or something."

It was an odd sight to see Severus's mouth drop open even the slightest bit, so human an expression it was, so open with obvious surprise; or so it seemed. Then he seemed to catch himself, and intense curiosity took over again.

"Draco Malfoy taught you how to use a wand?"

"He merely put it in my hand and presented me with the opportunity to try it. He simply suggested the possibility, which leads me to the overwhelmingly obvious conclusion that, had so simple a gesture been presented to a so-called 'Muggle' ever in the past hundred years, you and your snooty little community might have a very different population at this school than the selective one you've been enjoying."

"I see…" Snape did not bother to take this bait, although she was certain he could have come up with this or that or the other detailed argument as to why, again, Muggles had never been permitted at Hogwarts, and she had been ready for that fight. But he seemed interested, and, despite herself, her heart pounded, excited. The fact was, she shared his curiosity, and it was almost contagious, the way he was turning it over in his head, the shrewd possibilities she just knew he was greedily considering. Could it be that he would actually change his mind?

After a long silence, during which Petunia shifted her stance from one version of defiance to another, Snape finally looked up again. When his eyes fell upon her, they seemed almost to look through her, and she felt he was still very lost in thought. The animosity that had been so thick between them had momentarily, at least, receded.

"It is very unusual, of course, to take on adult students, skilled or not. Hogwarts does have a reputation to protect."

"Oh, of course," she replied, soaking her voice with sarcasm. She imagined dozens of little robed and queerly dressed children eagerly discussing their prospects of studying at Hogwarts with their equally strange parents, as excited as if they were about to be admitted to Oxford, and rolled her eyes.

"For that reason, I think some discretion would be best. Where there is no prior policy in place, one must be careful about setting a precedent before the possible repercussions have been thoroughly discussed and examined by all who hold stake in the future of the decision."

"Blah, blah-blah, blah. Just spit it out, why don't you."

"Yes," Severus mused, not even appearing to register her rudeness. "Discretion." He stood up. "That being said, I've decided to take you on for some private training. I at least would like to discover more about the anomaly. You'll have to stay for a little while longer, as this may take some time. I have a lot of information to gather, and you'll need to be compliant and answer all my questions and follow all my instructions to the line."

"You talk about me as if I were a science experiment."

"That's exactly what you are, and it would be a pity on you if you were to forget it. But you're getting exactly what you wanted, aren't you? You're going to study magic, after a fashion, just like your little sister." He sneered, but she did not notice.

Having nothing to say to this, she was trying very hard to hide her rapture as realization of her victory hit her. After all this time! Oh, if only Lily were still alive to see! They might still be close again…

"Very well, Mrs. Dursley, you are our first Muggle student," he said, almost amiably, and she did not bother to berate him for using the "M" word. "Now I suggest you get some rest. Oh, and we'll be moving your quarters, of course, out of the Hospital Wing. I'll want to know if you suffer any more headaches, and any other physical symptoms, but I think there is no immediate danger other than some discomfort which will, I would postulate, fade with time. Unless you have any personal concerns about your health?"

"None…I don't think I need medical attention at the moment, and something tells me even if I did, it would not be your doctors who could provide it."

"Very well, then, Petunia. Step outside and give me a moment; I'll take you to your new quarters myself."

She stood struggling with herself for a moment, and he looked up.

She tried, just for a moment, to see him as a Headmaster, and not that greasy, wicked little boy who had stolen her sister from her years ago. And she tried to see herself as the younger version of herself, having arrived fresh after having received an affirmative answer to her letter requesting admission. She opened her eyes.

"Yes…sir," she said softly, and it felt so good.