Story Title: Petunia, the Petulant
Chapter Title: En Pointe
Author's Note: I didn't mean to give Severus a foot fetish...it just kind of happened. :P But it seems to fit his character, I think.
There had been two major regrets in Severus's life when, by the time he was sorry, it was too late. The first had been when he'd stupidly said "mudblood" too many times, and lost Lily's friendship. The second had been indirectly causing her death. Both times, he mused, staring into the night from his parlor window, he had spent the rest of his life trying desperately to atone. He had hoped never to have to be sorry for anything again, and worked very hard to never do or say anything he would regret. Even his hatred, selectively doled out to certain individuals, he carefully weighed against possible consequences to decide if it was worth it.
He had, for example, allowed himself to hate Lily and James's son, because although Harry didn't know it then, he had also spent the last 17 years saving the boy's life, and punishing himself for his unforgivable crimes. He had hoped this would be the last time. He had hoped that when Harry came of age and Voldemort was finally defeated, he'd be able to slog through the rest of his miserable life without ever again owing anybody anything, free to quietly carry the crushing shame of knowing how loathsome, monstrous, and unworthy of love he was.
Unfortunately for Severus, he knew from the moment he woke up that he would have to apologize to Mrs. Dursley for his behavior. He accepted this without any doubt or fuss, because two apologies given far too late to change the course of unforgivable actions was more than enough. He must do it promptly, but also carefully, making sure the timing was right and she would believe he was sincere, even if it took all day to prepare. He would have to do it this time with dignity...not like the sniveling creature he'd been reduced to the other two times, which had earned him, years over, the insulting nickname of his youth.
Severus spent the morning sitting in his parlor thoughtfully, his second cup of tea cold in his hand. He stroked his chin absent-mindedly. He got up and sat back down again. He paced back and forth. He rehearsed and imagined and argued with himself, all the while pushing aside the dread and resentment he could not afford. And finally, by ethat vening, he had reconciled himself to the task. He would do it first thing the next day. One day of waiting, while unfortunate, might nevertheless be a good idea, as he had no idea how much trauma he'd inflicted on Mrs. Dursley and to what degree he had further damned his soul.
In the morning he would swallow his pride, grit his teeth, and apologize, sincerely, to this anchor around his neck, and try not to think about her rat-like face, looking smug and self-satisfied. But he'd do it not for her and not for Lily, or even Dumbledore. He'd do it for himself, this time. Enough was enough. After all, he told himself for the millionth time as he settled in for a sleepless night in the dark, who was supposed to be the professional here? The sooner he did it, the sooner he could move on.
In the morning he could not find her in her room, so after breakfast he humbled himself and asked casually as possible if anyone had seen her. McGonagall, Remus, and Hagrid had not, nor had Professor Trelawney, Professor Sprout, Binns, Draco, or HermioneGranger. Pretending not to notice Granger's look of suspicion, he stalked off as if he were headed somewhere with purpose, but it wasn't until he'd caught a hold of Filch that he discovered, to his relief, she had been spotted early that morning upstairs, heading toward the Room of Requirement.
Since last year, the Room of Requirement had been made available to more common use, but it was so popular it had to be scheduled in advance. After the classrooms in the dungeon proved to be insufficient, a few of their early lessons had taken place there. He was not sure how she learned about reserving time in the room, but the fact that she'd gone there of her own accord was probably a good sign. She had not disappeared from the campus or left for Privet Drive in the dead of night, leaving him with an embarrassing mess of questions to answer.
The Room of Requirement was enchanted to open only for the person using it and those they'd permitted, but Severus had devised a clever workaround that allowed him to be able to locate the occupants, and, with concentration and a good guess at the physical arrangement, gain entry. He stood before the enormous, ornate doors and pointed his wand between them, murmuring his spell. After a few moments, like a mirage, the facade of the door melted away to give him view of the room. The second part of the spell would unlock the invisible door, once he'd been able to see the configuration, but Severus had seen something surprising, and stopped, staring into the room...
Mrs. Dursley was dancing.
Though he could not hear it, he guessed that the room would have accommodated her with music, and from the looks of it, it was music she knew very well. It had created, of course, the perfect rehearsal room, complete with a gleaming, solid barre and at least one wall of mirrors.
Petunia was barefoot, the floor beneath her smooth, polished wood. She was unusually underdressed, wearing a strapped, sporty gray tee that might have even been an undershirt. Instead of one of her stylish but modest skirts, she appeared to have on a dark pair of loose workout slacks which she had rolled up just below the knees. Her dark blonde hair, which she usually wore up, was rolled into a bun, but it was obvious she'd been half-hearted about it, as it was held loosely by a tie and her hair kept falling out around her face, giving it a rounder, girlish look.
It was a bit shocking to see her dressed this way, as if she were in her own home and didn't expect to see anyone the whole day. Everything about her was typically so stiff and neat – like everything about Severus. It had never struck him as anything but appropriate, but seeing her now, it was unexpectedly pleasing...
It was clear that she had been practicing in the room for a while. Her face was flushed, and from the small smile on her thin lips, she had regained enough flexibility and confidence that it had ceased to be practice and was now pure enjoyment. She was not very strong or athletic; her limbs were small and delicate, and while nicely-shaped, did not have the toned look of muscle-building. Even though she was thin, her stomach was not flat, but her small curves suited her proportions so well she was a picture of grace and elegance, well matched for the art.
Her movements were also graceful and elegant; he could tell, though he knew very little about dancing, that she stepped with care and precision, stretching herself to make each shape perfect; he could not help marveling at the high arches of her small feet. He wondered how they could support her when she was so high on her toes; her legs must be much stronger than they looked. As he watched her go into turns and spins across the floor, curling her arms and then reaching them out to their full length, they seemed so exquisitely shaped that she could have actually been a ballerina turning in a child's music box.
This Petunia was in her element. This was a Petunia he had not known existed. He now noticed in her, perhaps for the first time, the family resemblance she shared with her sister, who had seemed so exotic by comparison. He felt now as if some kind of understanding clicked into place. This must have been the sister Lily had so loved when they were young; he was catching the rarest glimpse of her, and everything that made her unique. He wondered about this sister. For the first time, he wondered what her life had been like, what her passions and struggles had been, what she loved about dancing that pushed her to excel, even now after so many years, when someone else might have forgotten. How had she seen the world? How had she grown up? And what had happened to her, to bury this woman so far beneath the flat, dutiful and passionless role she played?
Severus did not feel terribly embarrassed about watching her, at first. It seemed perfectly natural to be fascinated by this transformation, so rare is it to see someone in such solitary immersion. But he did know in those moments something he had perhaps unconsciously ignored before now: He was now looking at Petunia as a man looking at a woman. It was not a completely unfamiliar feeling, or even unexpected, but it had been a very, very long time. He savored it, the sense of not being in control, reacting on instinct instead of reason. How disorienting he found it. And...pleasurable. He'd forgotten that part, hadn't he...
Eventually he felt he was just stalling; he must have allowed himself to be distracted out of dread. He watched Petunia a moment longer, as she repeated some peculiar movements that for some reason made him imagine a show horse in a parade. Then he finished the unlocking spell, and as the mirage solidified into three dimensions removed Lily's wand from his robe.
Soft, tinkling piano music greeted him when he stood inside the room, the unopened doors now behind him. Soundlessly he approached, reluctant to interrupt, but not wanting to take her too much by surprise. She was in the midst of a dramatic spin when she saw him, and she spun a second time, took one step toward him, and completed the move before coming to a full stop. Her chest rose and fell with her exertion; she wiped the sweat from her face with the back of her arm and glared at him, her hands on her hips in an attitude of utter contempt.
He looked down at the wand he'd been turning nervously in his hands, and when she did not say anything, held it out to her.
"I wanted to return your property to you."
Petunia let her glare linger as she took the wand from him, turned and went over to put it on her folded robes, which she'd left sitting in front of the mirrors. He noticed when she came back that her feet were turned out, as if she had been dancing regularly for years. She did not seem to be aware of the change. Severus, who had resolved not to say anything just for the sake of speaking, focused on conveying sincerity.
It took him a moment to remember what he'd rehearsed, but the order did not seem to make sense now. He paced a bit, looking around the room, avoiding eye contact. He thought about commenting on the furnishment of the Room of Requirement. That wasn't right, either, he realized. All of a sudden, Severus felt tired. Indulging in his adolescent voyeurism must have thrown him off his usual composure; now he just wanted to get this over with. Thankfully, it was Petunia who finally spoke first.
"What made you change your mind?" She asked. It was a good question. His own words surprised him.
"I was just being obstinate." It tumbled out rather easily, but that was not what he'd intended to say. He shrugged and turned to face her. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself."
"Well, I suppose we'd better call the carriage then and tear up the contract, since that seems to be illegal," she answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Of course not. You should enjoy yourself, as with magic. I want you to," he added softly, and saw with some satisfaction her obvious surprise
"I don't understand."
"Why not?"
"One minute you're telling me you want me to enjoy it, the next, you're ripping wands out of my robe. Which is it?"
"You shouldn't take everything so personally," he answered, and immediately knew it was a mistake. Not only had he still not apologized, but he'd just doe the opposite and made it worse. "I mean," he added hastily, when Petunia's pointed face darkened, "I mean to say, actually, that you shouldn't take me so seriously. No one else does." It was a little bit self-indulgent. He couldn't help it.
"So, what then?" she challenged, I should just develop a thick skin? I suppose you meant that to be the lesson all along, didn't you."
"Not intentionally, no. But it's true that I don't have a habit of coddling my students. I expect them to suffer, to struggle, to be frustrated, to be disappointed. I expect them to fail, many times, as I have in my own pursuits. And I expect them to learn that more often than not, their work will not be appreciated by others. The world of magic is not kind, Mrs. Dursley. It is brutal and dangerous. Witches and wizards of all ages dance with the threat of death every single day, no matter how mundane. I'm sure you've observed this in the very design of this school."
She nodded, now thoughtful.
"Yes, I have noticed it's a deathtrap, to weed out undesirables, I assume." Severus almost smiled at this.
"I could tell you stories."
"I don't doubt it. I...think I'd like to hear them."
"They would curdle your blood. And you have enough to contend with as it is, being at a significant disadvantage. Another time, when you're stronger and more confident. There's no point in adding terror to your distractions. But-to return to the point, I treat my students as if every day is a battle to survive, because in my experience, it is. Not everyone may have such an outlook, but it's kept me a step ahead and alive, where others have fallen in the wake of chaos."
"But you can't expect such a hardened approach from a beginner,"
"I don't teach beginners."
He let his words hang in the air as comprehension dawned on her. Suddenly, she looked very unsure of herself; she knit her eyebrows knit together, trying to reconcile the paradox he'd presented her with.
"But I don't understand," she said finally, her voice a little smaller than before. "You have first year students, eleven-years-old. Surely you must see them as-"
"No, I don't. They are survivors, Mrs. Dursley, not beginners...when I look at them, anyway. Like you." Neither of them seemed to want to say anything to interrupt this rare moment of mutual respect. "Of course," he continued eventually, "they don't know that, which is why they continually try my patience."
Petunia slowly nodded again, understanding.
"I am sorry," he said suddenly, deliberately, for he'd recognized this as the exact moment to say those words with precisely the right amount of space before and after, like the final phrase in an aria. He had made sure to look her in the eye, and now, as he tried to measure her belief, his discomfort grew so unbearable he had to continue.
"My behavior the other night, and the despicable things I said to you, were the direct result of failure to control my personal impulses. I take self-discipline very seriously in all things, and yet, I behaved as if it were a foreign concept. I am not proud of it; it is very difficult, not to mention dangerous, to direct magic without a good measure of self-control. Concentration. Focus. Commitment. Calculation. These are the required ingredients and the very foundation of successful magic. The next time I have an outburst, I'll try to remember to show you what magic looks like under those conditions."
This was the best he could manage; he knew he should say something about having probably hurt her feelings, but it felt too much already. It would have to be enough. He narrowed his eyes, scanning her face for any signs the message had gotten through, and to his relief, he thought it had. I am sorry, he thought, willing her one last time to understand.
Mrs. Dursley didn't seem to know what to do with herself any more than he did; he suspected, from the flush that had returned to her cheeks, she was thinking as much about his shrewd, implied compliment as his apology. She gave a quick nod, glanced at him and looked away. Well, now that's done. He was almost cheerful. Now, he very much would like to move on.
"Now," he said, bringing command back to his voice, "When I found you, you were quite immersed in what you were doing, or so it appeared. Would you say you got lost in it?"
"Yes..."
"Good. Were you doing a particular piece, or improvising?"
"I started out warming up and experimenting, and then toward the end I was remembering a ballet I had loved as a child, a short piece called The Unicorn. I had always wanted to perform it, but I never quite got the chance. I danced it all the time on my own, though."
"Then it must be something you can reproduce in a moment," he decided. "Show me, please."
"The piece?"
"Yes."
"The, the whole thing?"
"As much as you can remember. And if you forget the rest, do what you've done over again."
"All right," she said nervously. She cleared her throat. "Play The Unicorn again,
please..." For the second time, Severus stifled a smile. So she had managed to get the Room to cooperate with her on verbal command, but obviously did not know it wasn't necessary. Still, he had to admit he was impressed. He turned and walked a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, and waited...
..Petunia tried not to look at him looming dark and intrusive in the corner, as she took her beginning pose and waited for the piano to come in. Then, as if waking in the morning to sunbeams on one's face, the familiar, delicate melody once again tinkled into the room. All her stiffness fell away, and she let the music carry her through the dance. She melted into The Unicorn.
The music ended, and she became aware of herself again. She looked around at Severus, and saw him leaning against the wall, arms folded, staring at her with a very peculiar expression. It was obvious he'd been following her very intently, but she had not quite seen that kind of intensity in his dark, sharp eyes in a very long time. A hungry look. It was that look she'd found so unnerving when they were young, and had made her so distrustful of him. His eyes were both entrancing and terrifying, peering like a hawk from under his dark, limp hair, watching the slightest movement of a small animal through the trees.
He used to look at Lily that way, she remembered...and suddenly, she wanted to be anywhere else, somewhere she could get away and be alone with her thoughts, where she could catch her breath, safely hidden from his fierce scrutiny...away from long forgotten feelings that now stirred, buried under bitter denial that had turned into hatred...
But Severus must have quickly realized this, and shook himself from his private thoughts, resuming his neutral, unreadable expression. He strode over to her now, rather closer than usual, but all business. She looked up at him questioningly.
"How are you feeling? Can you do any more?"
"I'm not sure what you...I mean, I've been dancing for most of the morning..."
"I only want you to do one thing. One movement again. Indulge me?"
"Well, which one?"
"That turn you did, several times in a row, toward the end."
"The pirouettes?"
"Yes...except these seemed more embellished, somewhat spirited..."
"Oh," she nodded, understanding. "Florentine style pirouette."
"Florentine...like fencing?"
"Sort of. It does have a bit more momentum, because you don't touch down with the other leg until you spin twice."
"Yes, that was it. Show me that again, please." She obliged, setting herself, and then
whirling away from him. He followed her. "Yes...one more time, please." She did it again. "Yes. That's the one. Exactly." He had his palms together and rested his chin on his fingers, muttering. She stood and waited for what seemed quite a while, anticipation growing. It seemed he had had an epiphany.
"All right," said finally. He lowered his voice to a hypnotic pitch. "I want you to try something for me. First, close your eyes." As Petunia closed her eyes, she felt him come and stand right behind her. He slipped Lily's wand into her hand, and gently rested his hands on her shoulders. "Now, tell me what you're picturing, when you do that part of The Unicorn. What is it we are supposed to see?"
"Well," she swallowed, concentrating very hard on not shivering, "I am very young, and it's spring. I've been quiet and in hiding in the long winter, and now I can come out to play with the fairies...I stretch my legs and leap, feeling my own strength and boundless energy, and it's a dance, a dance of - "
"Triumph," he finished. They stood in silence for a moment. "Now, hold that image in your head. Relive that moment. Do it again, when you're ready, with the wand."
"What do you mean, with the wand?" she asked, panicking.
"Shhn...no, don't think about that. I don't want you to do anything with it other than hold it. It's only an extension of your arm; forget it is there. Just-keep your eyes closed." She could hear him backing away. "When you're ready."
It would have been easier with music, but Petunia wanted to push through the awkwardness. They were finally working together; she did not want to squander what might be only a temporary harmony. In her mind she heard the climactic strain, humming it a little to recall the feeling of that moment in the dance. Once again, she melted into the unicorn, springing young and with unbridled joy at being swift and free. It was an excellent pirouette; she could feel it. She opened her eyes, pleased - and gasped, almost collapsing from the shock of seeing Severus far across the room, opposite where she was now standing. She did not remember having moved that far; it was a great spin, but how could she possibly have gotten that far without taking at least one more enormous step?!
Severus's eyes pierced her with intensity again, but now they were also wide with very obvious surprise.
"What...happened?!" She breathed, even though she already knew the answer.
"You apparated."
"Wha-what?" She laughed. "No. No I didn't it. I can't have."
"You did," he said quietly, firmly, his eyes gleaming with obvious pleasure. "Now, do it again. Don't force it. Just...try." He was still as a statue, as if afraid the slightest movement might trouble the air and sabotage her efforts.
She readied herself again, now quite out of breath with excitement, her heart pounding. Once again she closed her eyes and executed the move, less perfectly this time...but once again she opened her eyes to find herself in a corner of the room opposite where she'd just been. She did it one more time without being prompted; she did not travel far this time, but it was still more than was possible for her in one leap, and she'd switched sides from the barre. Petunia clasped her hands to her mouth and laughed again, pricking tears welling up in her eyes; she did not even mind. Suddenly she felt so light and happy, and quick, full of liveliness and ready to sprint down the halls of Hogwarts, moving staircases and all.
Severus was beaming at her - in his own way. He barely smiled, but his face was relaxed and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, looking very relieved.
"I think it's reasonable to say that's enough for one day." Petunia skipped up to him, unable to contain her joy.
"We did it, Severus! We did it! And you were right all along!"
"Me? That was you, blinking across the floor."
"But you taught me. When it seemed most impossible, you found a way to help me do it. You were even patient, and creative. Somehow, you just knew what would work! I don't know how, but you did. Thank you," she breathed, deeply grateful. She. Was. Free.
"We had a very good stroke of luck. Now, I have something to build on. And you, you are the first Muggle ever known to have performed magic...as far as I know. Bravo, Mrs. Dursley," he said warmly, and this time, as she looked up at him, took his hands in hers squeezed them, he did smile...just a little.
