Title: Sorry
Rating: PG
Summary: She always knew that this day would come.
Disclaimer: I don't own HP
Status: Complete
Feedback: I'll give you chocolates!
Petunia gave a cold shudder; she knew that mark, the one with the glowing green skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth; she knew that the symbol could only mean one thing and one thing only, death. Death would lie behind the door of Number 4, Privet Drive; death would meet her eyes as soon as she turned the knob that her hand hovered over, her keys tossed aside.
Petunia was not a fool, but she wished she were. She had known that the magic could never be beaten out of the boy; she knew this day would come even if they had ditched the boy at an orphanage, as Vernon had always threatened to do so. She knew that by keeping the boy it could possibly prolong the day, but she tried to make the boy fear magic so that she could vainly hope that this day wouldn't come.
Petunia knew that that would be unlikely; the wards would disappear when the boy turned seventeen, and then, this day would come. The hair on her arms rose as she gathered the courage to turn the knob and open the door, all too aware that it would be unlocked. No amount of preparation could keep her from falling upon her knees in despair as she saw the horrid sight in front of her.
Time passed, but Petunia knew nothing of time; her misery was too set in its course. Still, sometime after, she heard soft steps behind her and she immediately knew who it was.
"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be out celebrating?" Petunia asked, her eyes still gazed upon the carelessly strewn bodies in the broken down room.
"Celebrate what? More deaths?" came a dry, hoarse voice.
"You should be happy they're dead."
"No, I'm not. Maybe once I would have been. Not now, I'm tired of it all. I just wanted to say thank you."
"I don't deserve any thanks, you shouldn't waste your time."
"You protected me, even if none of us realized it, but you did. I'm not sorry they're dead, but I am sorry for you. I know what it feels like," he said in a hollow voice.
Petunia turned her head and looked at him; there was no spark, no hint of life or joy in his eyes; there was nothing.
"Is he dead?" she asked.
"No."
"You're going to die aren't you?"
He raised his head up. "Voldemort will die." He stepped out the door and left.
"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry!" And that night she wept; she wept for her husband, her son, and a boy who had been dead long ago.
"I'm sorry…"