Written for the Hogwarts forum: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments). This was written for Assignment #11, Unsolved Mysteries: Task #4 which was to write a Space!AU. Originally this was meant to be more Lily and Petunia get to be bounty hunters, but my muse decided to write them coming up to it. So it's a space AU just... before they get to space.

Hope you enjoy!

Petunia—no last name, thank you very much—is a rather odd-looking woman, for she seems to have twice the amount of neck than most people. Yet, where one would expect her to look bird-like, she has a face much like a horse, with wonky teeth complete with various gaps. When she smiles, she always presses her lips together to keep people from seeing her teeth, and understandably so. When one thought to look beyond her mouth and her neck, they would be struck by her grey eyes which always appear strangely pale, and a jaw that looks much too blockish for a woman.

All in all, Petunia is far from a nice-looking person and, beside her sister, she is almost always the lesser one—less perfect, less pretty, less smart.

For much of her childhood, Petunia has spent her time being ugly with jealousy. Her sister's fiery red hair and green eyes had always seemed to be very good reasons for envy. However, the real cause for this jealousy was the fact Lily got to go to Hogwarts, a school well known for creating some of the best spacers; while Petunia's application was dismissed three times.

However, for all that Petunia is jealous and envious and far from pretty, Lily and she are still sisters. They talk, even if Petunia's messages start by being rather terse and short, until she grows a bit older.

Rather than learning equations and completing homework like her sister, Petunia buries herself in the guts of an old shuttle and learns how to tell fuel types apart just by smell and how to fix turbopumps.

Then, while Petunia works at an apprentice at a mechanic and Lily learns at a prestigious school, their parents die.

This is what somehow manages to draw Petunia and Lily back together properly. There are fights; arguments that end in yelling and screaming and sometimes Petunia's throat aches and sometimes Lily cries until she doesn't know if she can breathe. But, even with all that, they come together too. They argue and fight, yet they come together every single time. They are sisters and they are family and, with no one else, they rely on each other.

Lily graduates at Hogwarts and her parents aren't in the crowd, but Petunia is in her cleanest pair of overalls, only a little bit of grease smudging her hands. Lily beams at her and the photo they take is carefully framed and saved digitally and online.

"What happens next?" Petunia asks as she leans over an engine of a racer space shuttle brought in for an overhaul. She's not getting paid much for this one, but racer shuttles aren't common and Petunia's always had a soft spot for anything that has speed.

Sitting in a chair, Lily kicks her legs. "I'm not sure," she admits. With her credentials having graduated from Hogwarts, she could get a position on any ship, could do anything, could take to space and never look back.

But Petunia would still be here and Lily doesn't know if she could go anywhere without her sister. Petunia is the kind of woman who's always looked up at the stars and—even as no-nonsense as she is—dreams of being among them. After all, why would you limit yourself to the ground when you can fix the ships that fly through space?

Petunia hums, gathering one of her tools in a black-stained hand. "You're gonna become a spacer."

There's no uncertainty in Petunia's voice and that's what makes Lily pause. "And you?" She asks.

They've had this conversation before, about jobs and futures and possibilities. Once upon a time, Lily's future had been something she laughed over with friends at Hogwarts, dreaming of boys with glasses and messy hair. Somewhere along the way, she grew up and stepped away. Her dreams were full of stars and the humming of ships now.

What had Petunia's dreams been, once upon a time? Lily remembers when Petunia had been younger, how she'd wanted to be a housewife of all things. But Petunia had grown up, grown into stained overalls, and never grown into the length of her neck. Her feet were planted firmly on the ground, but her head was always tilting back and back and back to look at the sky, to look at the ships, to look at the stars. Lily doesn't know whether it's because her sister's a mechanic or if it's why her sister is a mechanic. She's never asked.

Petunia straightens, twisting just enough to pop her back and make Lily shudder. For a long moment, she doesn't answer. Lily waits though. She always does now.

"Being a mechanic would be okay," Petunia says. She runs her hands over the metal panels, fingers brushing over scratches and dents. This ship has a bullet hole for some strange reason, and she's already discovered the secret box in the engine space. Once upon a time, this ship had been used for smuggling. What stories could it tell? What secrets? Petunia wants to know all of them, wants to know none of them, wants to listen to the whispers.

"Except you want to be up," Lily says. It's an easy thing to see and something she has always seen in her sister. But unlike her, Petunia has no credentials that people will accept. The only way Petunia is getting into space is if someone takes pity on her—which no one ever would—or she somehow manages to get her own ship.

Petunia hums, bangs something, and then closes the flap for the engine. "Space sounds amazing," she says, a twist to her lips. There's a pause before she shakes her head. "But that's just a wish."

A wish, Lily thinks, and how many of their wishes have ever come true? There's no such thing as magic, but sometimes Lily will close her eyes when she sees a shooting star and make a wish. Is that magic? Maybe it is a magic of a kind. The kind of magic founded in belief, in faith, in hope.

"What if…" Lily pauses, tasting possibility on her tongue, tasting something like stardust. "What if we both went to the stars, together?"

Petunia's eyebrows furrow, a scowl forming on her face like she thinks Lily is talking shit. "Sounds impossible," Petunia grunts, walking around the ship and putting it between them. From where she sits, Lily can no longer see her sister. She doesn't need to see her, however, to imagine the expression.

"Many things sound impossible," Lily says, "but that doesn't make them impossible."

She thinks of space, of endless possibilities, of chances and choices and how sometimes you have to reach out and steal something for yourself.

There's a gun on Lily's hip that's been cared for for years. It's seen itself used, not just in practice. There's a similar gun on Petunia's hip that's seen a bit more use, is a bit more chipped, but cared for just the same. Lily considers the gun, considers the danger she holds, considers the danger Petunia holds.

They both grew up and they didn't exactly grow up safe. Lily's never forgotten where she came from, even at Hogwarts, and Petunia never left.

"We should become bounty hunters," Lily says decisively. She imagines walking into a space cantina with Petunia at her side, guns on their hips, ship waiting for them in the bay. They could be legends.

Everything is quiet for a heartbeat, and then another. Then, slowly, Petunia reappears in Lily's vision. She's frowning, but thoughtfully. "What are you thinking?"

Lily grins, pleased at the response. "I'm thinking we get ourselves a ship, a basic bounty, and get to work. We could easily manage shipping goods too and with your skills, we'd have a mechanic on hand for if anything went wrong. We're both good fighters too. We could be bounty hunters, if we really wanted."

For a long moment, Petunia considers her sister, eyes narrowed. Then she sighs, body slumping and tension disappearing. "Alright," Petunia says. She cleans a wrench with an old rag. "But if anything goes wrong, we're going to try something else, you hear me? If this doesn't work out, we do something else."

Lily beams. "It's going to be fantastic," she says.

(And you know what? She's not wrong.)