THC S8 R2
House: Slytherin
Position: Potions
Category: Standard
Prompt: [Dialogue] "I know you."; [Dialogue, Multi-line] "No." / "That's not the correct response."
Notes and Triggers: AU
WC: 1107
Beta: DaughteroftheOneTrueKing, charlotteredmond99, NightRaven789, beawrites, Ash Juillet
A/n: Inspired by the strangers who we always meet but know nothing about
Petunia tries very hard to not slap Mr. Snape. Her fingers itch as she arranges the platters of sandwiches and biscuits on the table in the church hall. Later, there will be beer at the pub, but for now, they all need to maintain the air of sobriety even though a sip of whiskey sounds tempting. She catches her reflection in the mirror and hates how much the black dress washes her out. It isn't just Mr Snape that irritates her; it is the number of people that show up for Mrs Snape—Eileen, she forces her mind to correct.
They look odd, out of place, and she thinks their presence itself is disrespectful. They didn't reach out when Mrs. Snape was alive; therefore, they can't claim her death. Petunia wishes she had the courage to say so. What good is there in being there for a person when they are buried six feet underground?
Lily leans close to Petunia, lemonade and cheese sandwich in hand. "Grab yourself a coffee. I'll hold down the fort while you take a smoke break. If you were a witch, you would have burned the church already."
"No," Petunia says, glaring hard at Severus and the people who wear long robes around him.
Lily stands on her tippy toes and brings her lips up to her sister's ear. "That's not the correct response. You are two seconds away from losing it at every person in this room. You're prickly, so take five minutes, go smoke, and say your goodbyes."
"You don't get it," Petunia hisses.
Lily gives her a look that Petunia swears she shouldn't have ever had to perfect. The one that demands to be obeyed, and Petunia wonders when Lily—the baby of their family—needed to learn how to give that look. So Petunia nods and grabs a coffee from one of the tables before walking out of the church hall.
She shakes her head when Vernon makes a move to follow her. She doesn't want him now, as odd as it is to say. Her heart warms at the idea that Vernon cares enough to follow, but it doesn't flutter. Still, fluttering hearts are things of romance novels, and Petunia knows better than to believe in those.
She likes the loneliness of the cemetery. It is a quiet spot where Petunia can smoke in peace without hearing her mother lecture her about her awful habit. But for now, she sinks into the glorious feeling of nicotine and smoke, feeling herself unwind with every rhythmic inhale and exhale.
The flowers on Mrs. Snape's grave have already wilted. As Petunia moves to light another cigarette, she sees a wild mass of black hair. Her heart constricts at the sight and the accusation runs out of her mouth.
"I know you," she says, spitting. The girl, not much older than her, turns. Her skin is a warm brown and she raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Petunia notices the diamond on her finger is larger than her own.
"Of course you do. We made moon-eyes at each other for what must've been the last five years." The girl, no, the woman says. "I'm Bellatrix Lestrange."
Petunia nods, not offering up her name. Her fingers shake as she lights another cigarette.
Bellatrix doesn't seem to be concerned with learning Petunia's name, nor does Petunia offer it up. As far as Petunia is concerned, their love story with each other was that of ill-informed crushes. Bellatrix, with her long robes and high collar, seems to represent everything Mrs Snape ran away from.
Still, curiosity claws and overrides all of Petunia's rationale. They are both women, engaged to be married and on opposite sides of any kind of spectrum. Petunia has heard the news that Lily tries to hide from her parents. That still doesn't stop the craving that Petunia feels, that need to be a part of a world that would never have her. Internally, she muses that this must have been what Mrs. Snape went through.
"She shouldn't have had to choose," Petunia says, this time offering Bellatrix a cigarette.
If Bellatrix is startled at the layer of vitriol that lines Petunia's words, she doesn't show it. "She made her choice, and witches, more than anyone else, need to deal with the consequences of choosing impurity."
Petunia sucks in too deeply and then coughs. Her coffee cup, filled with cigarette butts, tips over. Bellatrix makes no move to help her.
"God, that is the most heinous thing I have ever heard. How dare you!" Petunia hisses. She doesn't look threatening; her eyes are watery and she is still heaving for gloriously clean air.
"I dare. We aren't the only ones after purity," Bellatrix rationalises. "If you were so willing to go against the grain, you would have pursued me long ago, instead of hiding yourself behind that man. He is only going to make you unhappy, you know."
Petunia blinks hard at Bellatrix's words, wondering how someone could be so different from her. A person, with whom she has only ever shared longing glances with, has read her so well.
"He is a good person," Petunia feels compelled to defend. "Besides, what do you know about me and my life? You spent most of yours hidden in a castle where nothing ever needs to be real."
"I know you," Bellatrix says simply. "Even I can tell he is never going to be enough for you. But here you are lying to yourself that everything is going to be alright, just like Eileen did, and someone is going to have to pay."
"Keep Snape out of it."
"Oh, sweetie, your sister has long since rejected him. He is never coming back to this hovel, never mind defending it."
"No." Petunia cannot accept the words that come out of Bellatrix's pretty mouth.
"That's not the correct response," Bellatrix says. "You have long lost say in the matter."
Petunia makes a move to leave, and in seconds, Bellatrix leans over her.
"Someday you'll see that I was right. Maybe soon, depending on how your sister chooses during the war." Bellatrix pulls away, looking gleeful at the prospect of war, to wave at a man on the perimeter. "See you around, Petunia."
The ash from Petunia's cigarette drops to the ground and she sinks down next to it. A war? She hears Lily call her name and turns towards her. Her little sister wouldn't be that irresponsible, would she? Something tells Petunia that this is beyond her sister's recklessness.
But for now, she gathers herself up. Her kind won't attack today, not when they mourn one of their own.