A/N- Firstly, much apologies for being wrong about the date of the Potter's death. I'm very vague about dates. I have trouble remembering my own birthday. I can't fix the last chapter without typing the whole thing out again, but I've added references to Halloween in this chapter.
And you'll all probably jump up and down and scream "sacrilege!" because I've gone against canon and made a teeny, tiny part of Petunia human. But it isn't possible to not miss your sister at all. A tiny part of you has to be sad.
And, to cap off what is quite possibly my longest A/N so far, the idea of making Petunia grieve for baby Lily was inspired by something I heard my mother say on the phone about my brother who died two years ago. "You don't just miss them as a fifteen year old. You miss them how they were at other ages as well. Which is really odd, because the eight year old Simon was dead by that time anyway"


CH 2

He looked at the red figures on the digital clock radio that was nearly hidden by the pile of roses he was weaving into a wreath for the wedding of Sarah-Marie Dahl and Roaland Plinkett. It flipped over to 9:42. He smiled. She would be here soon.
He was famous in his town for his uncanny ability to remember every customer that entered his flower shop, even if they didn't return for months. But this woman was particularly memorable, because she was one of his oddest customers (even odder than the man who, every week without fail, sent his wife a bunch of roses with a card that read 'I'm sorry') She'd been coming every year for fifteen years. She came at Halloween, around the time that everyone else stopped buying flowers and started looking at pumpkins and costumes instead.
And then there was the routine of her visits. She would arrive at the shop at exactly ten o'clock, glance over her shoulder at the street behind her, then hurry inside. Then she would browse for about ten minutes, inspecting all the flowers in the shop, even though every year she invariably bought a mixed bouquet of gerberas, daisies, roses, marigolds and honeysuckle, and a single long stemmed lily.
Once he'd asked her who she bought the flowers for. She'd given him a really sad look and whispered 'for baby Lily', so he assumed she'd lost a baby daughter once.




Petunia glanced both ways before leaving the sweet smelling shop, clutching the flowers to her chest. She walked briskly down the street, avoiding the gaze of the few shoppers she passed. She stepped off the curb and flagged down a taxi.
She slid inside and carefully placed the bouquet on the seat next to her, taking care not to bruise the delicate petals. "St Jeanne's on Picklesby Road."
"You off to a wedding dear?" the driver asked. He assumed that the flowers and her long overcoat meant she was a bridesmaid.
"No." Petunia said coldly. She despised chatty cabbies. She turned and stared determinedly out the window to discourage further conversation.



She unlocked the little gate that allowed access to the two graves. She scowled in disgust, looking at the ground. It had rained the night before, and in the mud there was a perfectly formed paw print.
"A dog!" she snapped, laying the flowers on Lily's half of the grave. "One of your horrible friends brought their -pet- in here. No respect. No respect at all. That's what you get for mixing with people like that." she scolded.



Having done her sisterly duty, she went home and did the ironing. She enjoyed ironing, because it was peacefully ordinary. She knew for a fact that Lily had never ironed a stitch of clothing in her life- she used to flick her wrist and the clothes would iron themselves and fold themselves and float into a drawer. So Petunia always carefully and meticulously pressed the family clothes by hand, because every time she did it it was an affirmation that she Was Not Weird.
The thing about ironing, however, was that it never occupied the mind properly. She couldn't prevent her thoughts from drifting back through the years.
**Lily was a beautiful child, there was no doubt about that. Petunia's earliest memory of Lily was of her as a clumsy toddler, walking for short bursts before falling over or bumping into something, which friends and neighbours always found terribly cute. She was always being admired for her big green eyes and her glossy red ringlets. Petunia was always proud to say "This is my sister"**

Once the ironing was done she settled down to put the finishing touches on Dudley's Halloween costume. He was really much too old to go trick or treating, but he still wanted the candy. If Dudley wanted to go out on Halloween, Dudley could go out.
Petunia hummed to herself as she threaded the needle. If she recalled right, Lily was wonderful at sewing. She would often send Petunia gifts of dresses or shirts. She said that it helped her relax during the stressful lead up to the end of year exams. Petunia never wore the items Lily made. She didn't feel comfortable around anything that could be tainted with magic.
**Halloween was Lily's favourite holiday. She loved being able to step into someone else's shoes for a day, to be a princess, a ballerina, a fairy, then step out of them again at the end of the day and just be Lily. Petunia always stuck close to Lily, because her cute smile and pixie-like looks always inspired generosity in people. There were exactly ten Halloweens spent together. Petunia vaguely remembered an infant Lily being pushed around in a stroller, dressed in a pink jumpsuit and rabbit ears, and the last Halloween, with Lily dressed up as a witch.**
Petunia put aside the sewing and, motivated by nostalgia, went over to the bookcase they stored the photo albums in. There were fifty-two albums- fifty stuffed with pictures of Duddikins looking handsome, one of Vernon as a boy and one of Petunia. She pulled out that one, a cheap, tacky album with a white cover patterned with yellow smiley faces.
She poured herself her daily glass of wine and sat on the sitting room floor with it open before her. The pictures were faded and a bit off-colour. They couldn't fully capture the glow that surrounded her sister when she was in a good mood, which was almost always because she had an easy going, easily pleased nature.
There were all the usual pictures-Lily and Petunia at the beach. Lily and Petunia on Lily's first day at -normal- school. Birthday parties, Christmases and of course, Halloween. Petunia sighed sadly as she flipped through the yellowed pages. Then she reached the final page that contained Lily's image. Four photographs- a picture of Petunia's eleventh birthday (a strange, awkward affair with her parents looking disappointed and muttering things like 'today's the cut off point and it didn't come' and 'looks like she's as ordinary as we are')
A picture of the last Halloween spent together, with Lily in her witch costume (a complete coincidence) and Petunia dressed as an angel.
Then a picture that was really all about Lily, but had made it into Petunia's album because it was a great picture of her. It was Lily holding up her Hogwarts letter, and Petunia hugging her proudly because she didn't realise what Hogwarts would do to her baby sister.
The last photo Petunia ever had taken with Lily (later she refused to ever be close enough to Lily for them to both appear in the same picture) was of a beaming Lily in her brand new Hogwarts robes, with Petunia looking very prim next to her in the plaid skirt, straw hat and knee high socks of Lady Waifthrop's Academy for Girls.
**Petunia sat on her bed, running through her list of things she had to pack. Lily ran into her room. "I'm so excited!" she shrieked, launching herself at Petunia. "I'm going to be a witch! I'm going to Hogwarts!" she flung her arms around Petunia.
Petunia laughed. "I'm aware of that Lily. I can't breathe Lily."
Lily let go of Petunia's neck and grabbed her hands instead. "Oh, I hope I'll do well! Wouldn't it be terrible if everyone was ahead of me! I should have practised more. Can I turn you into a toad?" Lily had been talking in exclamation marks all week.
"No Lily. If I'm a toad my uniform won't fit. Don't worry. You won't fall behind. You're smart and dedicated and you work hard."
Lily gave her another bone crushing hug. "I'll miss you!"
"Petunia! Mrs Dursley is here!" their mother shouted. Petunia shoved Lily off and zipped up her suitcase. Lily carried it for her.
"I'm sorry we couldn't drive you ourself, but there's no way we can drive Lily to her station and you to yours. This transport system is so inconvenient." their mum flustered, hugging her.
"Its okay mum. I like Marge Dursley."
Lily elbowed her. "No, you like Marge Dursley's brother."
Petunia gave her a shove, but she felt a lump form in her throat. Lily had decided she wanted to experience a wizard christmas, so they wouldn't see each other until the next summer. "Don't you dare change baby Lily."
Lily made a face. "You can't call me that anymore. I'm eleven."
Mrs Dursley honked the horn and Petunia raced down the path. She paused at the car and looked back at Lily, framed in the doorway.**
That was the last time Petunia talked to her baby sister Lily. Sure, she exchanged many words with a young redhead named Lily Evans that returned in the summer, but it wasn't her sister.
**That summer, Lily arrived on the doorstep with electric blue curls. When questioned about the cause of her new hair colour, she just giggled and said "Potter", as if that was any kind of explanation.
The next day, she sat at the kitchen table with a pile of books and weird instruments. Petunia wandered up. "That's a lot of homework."
"Uh huh."
"What is it?"
"Arithmancy."
"You want some help?"
"You wouldn't get it."
"Are you sure? I'm quite good at arithmetic."
It was the first of many times that Petunia saw the 'witch' expression on Lily's face. For a fleeting second, she looked half-arrogant, half-pitying. "It's Arithmancy, not Arithmetic."



Petunia shut the album. Every year it got progressively worse. First year she brought Arithmancy homework and her "I'm a witch" attitude. Second year she brought home the wizarding language. Suddenly Petunia was a 'muggle'- putting up a verbal barrier between them.
Third year she came home with a suitcase full of mice, weird smelling herbs and odd jellybeans..
But the fourth year was the worst. Petunia never forgave Lily for what she brought home in the fourth year.
** "Petunia, this is James." Lily said nervously.
"Nice to meet you." He extended his hand to shake.
Petunia looked at his hand and said nothing. Something crashed in their front yard.
"Sirius!" someone yelled. "My crystal ball was in that bag!"
"Remus, trust me, I did you a favour. Prediction is a crock."
Two boys appeared in the doorway, carrying all the bags. They stopped and stared at Petunia.
"Oh my god."
"It's a blonde Lily!"
"Bags her."
Lily thwacked the black-haired boy. "Sirius, haven't you learned anything from the Women's Lib Movement?"
"I've learned that bras are surprisingly flammable."**


That summer was the worst one Petunia could remember. When the boys tired of hitting on her, they turned their minds to finding creative pranks to play without using magic. And every time Petunia became their victim, the creature who used to be her sweet, compassionate sister just laughed.


It wasn't really the anniversary of her sister's death. Her sister didn't die at Halloween. It was someone else, a stranger who was killed by Voldemort. Her baby sister Lily died when she stepped onto the Hogwarts Express. She didn't care about the adult Lily, but she cried and grieved for the sister she lost to Hogwarts.