Disclaimer: Aunt Petunia, Harry Potter and any other characters featured in this fanfiction do not belong to me. No money is being made from this fanfiction and no infringement of copyright is intended, so please don't sue me, JK Rowling.
I've Never Loved You
"SIRIUS!!!"
Harry sat bolt upright in the darkness, sweat trickling down his face. Gasping for breath, he closed his eyes and clenched his fists. This wasn't the first time he had had a nightmare about Sirius. Night after night his death was played before his eyes, and Harry was forced to watch this torture helplessly.
He put a hand to his ear. He could still hear Sirius laughing as the curse hit him. He could hear himself crying out. Harry's breathing grew ragged and he shivered.
"Come back, Sirius," he whispered. "Come back, I need you."
There was a creak outside the door. Harry jumped. Was it possible? Could it be-
"Harry?" Said Aunt Petunia as she pushed open the door.
Harry sank back into the pillow and gritted his teeth. How could he have been so stupid?
He's not coming back, he told himself, he's gone.
But for one wild moment, one glorious moment, he had been so sure that it was Sirius outside, so sure that the pain would be over at last.
"Harry?" Repeated Aunt Petunia, "Are you awake?"
Harry muttered a weak 'yes'.
"I had a letter from Dumbledore last night. He - he told me... About your godfather."
"I don't want to talk about it!" Harry screamed suddenly. "Don't you and Dumbledore understand? I just want to forget it, forget him, forget that he ever existed! Sirius doesn't exist anymore! He's gone, gone forever! I just want to forget it!"
But I can't, he thought, and he rolled over with his back to Petunia.
"Harry, be quiet, or you will wake Vernon and Dudley."
"That's all you ever think about! You don't care, do you? You've never cared about me! You don't love me, why are you here?
"No," said Aunt Petunia, "I've never loved you. How can I when in you is so much of the world I despise? Her world...
But just because I don't love you, that doesn't mean I don't care about you."
"Yeah, right" snarled Harry, "You wish I'd never come here."
Aunt Petunia looked away.
"Yes," she whispered, "I wish you'd never come. I wish you were still living with your parents. I wish you could have gone to live with your godfather. I wish that - that Lord - Lord Voldemort had never existed."
Harry's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Tell me," he said, "why you hate my world so much. Tell me everything. You've kept it from me long enough. Tell me why you hate my mum."
Petunia walked over to the window and stared out at the moonlit sky. Her eyes ran over the stars as her bitter memories came flooding back. She bit her lip and began to speak.
"I was always the plain one. Always. Whatever I could do, Lily could do better. I was continually shunted aside.
If I came top of the class, Lily came top of the year. If I passed my exams with good marks, Lily got straight As for hers. She was two years younger, but she was the prettier, the cleverer, the more talented, the more admired and the more popular. I was nothing when I was compared to her. She ruined my whole life with her damned perfection. She forced me to live in the shadows, achieving nothing, being no one. And yet she was so good. She loved me. She laughed and smiled with me, she covered for me when I wanted to go out, she kept my secrets, she did any jobs for me that I had forgotten to do. Sometimes I felt like weeping over her shoulder because I wanted so desperately to love her like she loved me. But I couldn't. The more she smiled, the more I became grumpy and unfriendly. The more friends she made, the more unpopular I became. Every word she said stabbed me and poisoned my heart. She had everything I could ever wish for. I could not love her. I was jealous and bitter, and though she could not have been a better sister I could only find hate for her. And that - that has not changed..."
Petunia turned around to face Harry. Her eyes were wide as if she was afraid. She was very pale.
"And then, when I was 13, Lily got her letter from Hogwarts. She was a witch. My parents thought it was wonderful.
They were proud of her. For what? For being a freak!"
"My mum was not a freak!" Yelled Harry, "And neither was my dad! I'm not a freak! Sirius-"
"Don't you understand, Harry? Don't you understand what I went through? Perfect Lily had not only overshadowed me in everything else, she was also special. She was the one with magical blood. And my parents worshipped her for it, for having different blood from the rest of us. They didn't notice me ever again. They were so proud of wonderful Lily... I was wildly jealous. Sometimes I - I imagined my hands around her soft white neck... I despised her, I loathed everything about her. And when I went to the station, to Platform 9 ¾... I realised, they're all the same. They're special, just like her. Just because of some power that the rest of us haven't got. Like her, they've pushed the rest of us aside. And from that day I hated all of them, wizards, witches, the whole magical world and everything in it. I knew that until I could escape from it I would never be happy. Which is why, Harry, I try so very hard to pretend that magic doesn't exist. Because as soon as I acknowledge that it does, all this hate, this bitterness, this spite and envy comes flooding back and I furiously retreat to the shadows once more. And in my anger I labelled them freaks. But they are not freaks, I am."
"You're not a freak," murmured Harry. Petunia gave a weak smile, and shrugged her shoulders hopelessly.
"So... Lily went off to Hogwarts, and I thought that without her I could finally be happy. She wouldn't be there any more to steal all the attention. But those bloody owls... They brought letters from her every week. We knew everything, how she was top of the class, how her teachers loved her, how popular she was, how even the older students admired her. And I was forced to smile and agree with my parents that she was so lovely, so accomplished... When she came home each year for the summer she always brought us magical presents and showed off with her wand. She wasn't allowed to do any magic, of course, but she talked constantly about all the spells she had learnt. And still she was the perfect sister. And still I hated her.
Well, then this Lord Voldemort came along. And she and that James Potter, who was just as talented as her, went off to join some secret society of Dumbledore's. Mum and Dad were so proud of her, going off to save the world from the forces of evil. At the time I just dismissed it as another wonderful thing to do to outshine me. Until I realised that Voldemort was truly evil. I heard the stories of terror, of murder, and blackmail. And then I realised that my good, sweet sister was in danger and I might lose her any day. I realised that all these years I had let my hatred for her stop me from seeing how much I loved her. I should have told her how much she meant to me. I should have tried to see her. But all I could think of were the times when I had gone unnoticed, when I had been ignored for her sake, and my cursed jealousy of her stopped me from telling her how much I loved her. And then... And then..."
"She was killed," said Harry in a hoarse whisper. He was stunned.
"She died thinking I hated her, but still loving me. She died a heroine's death and I had done nothing to help her, when she had helped me so many times before. And Dumbledore said that if I took you in, I could save you from Voldemort. For the first time I could be the heroine; I was the one who could do the good deed. Not Lily. She had done all she could for you. It was me Dumbledore needed now. And I thought that if I could save you, I could repair the damage I had done. It wouldn't matter that I had never told Lily of my love for her, that I had never helped her. It wouldn't matter that I had hated her all those years. But I was wrong."
A tear rolled down Petunia's cheek. She wiped it away, tossing her hair contemptuously. She glanced at Harry miserably.
"When I look at you, all I can see is her. You've got her eyes, her damned eyes that everyone said were so beautiful. I've realised; I might have loved Lily in the end, but I hate her still. I loved her but I hate her. And you, you're just like her. Every time you did anything magical, I knew that you were same, you were special like her. You were part of the magical world that I loathed so much, you always would be, there was nothing I could do. I told you, unless I can escape from the magical world I will never be happy. And you - you brought it all back, all of it. I couldn't pretend anymore, magic existed, it was right in front of my face. And in everything that you do, you remind me of her, the person I most want to forget about... And that is why I've never loved you."
She tearfully threw her arms around him and sobbed.
"But you also remind me of how lovely she was, Harry! You remind me that I'm saving her only child just by keeping you here. I owe her that much... And when you found that godfather of yours, you reminded me that I've always treated you like I was treated myself. I've ignored you, I've shunted you aside, I've mistreated you. So I hoped that one day, you could go and live with this Black so you would know what it felt like to be loved. And then I could forget... But - that doesn't look too likely now."
"No," said Harry with a trace of anger, "Because he's dead. He's dead, and it's all my fault."
"I'm sorry, Harry. But Lily died knowing that I despised her. Sirius died knowing that you loved him. That has to be better, doesn't it? I just wish that I could love you as much as he did. But the memory of her will always prevent me from that. I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm sorry for not being able to love you."
She kissed him lightly on the forehead and softly closed the door behind her, leaving Harry just as he felt.
Alone.