Word count: 4,032

Five Years Later

Petunia kept her steps light as she hurried through the halls of Malfoy Manor. Despite the years she'd lived in the place, she despised it. The walls were tall and imposing and dark objects could be found in the most random of nooks and crannies.

The decor was in varying shades of dark green and black, which made the hall in which Petunia found herself particularly dark in the dim evening light despite the windows that lined it every ten feet. Petunia's room had been well-stocked with candles to help her navigate, but she'd forgone them in favour of relying on her eyes alone. The boxes of candles that had been regularly left for her had only served as a reminder of her status as the sole Muggle in the house.

She wouldn't have been outside her rooms at such a late hour at all if Dobby hadn't revealed that Lucius was otherwise occupied for the night.

Dobby was the house elf whom Petunia got along with the best. At Hogwarts, she hadn't known about the house elves that dwelled in the kitchens and kept the castle in order, but she had come to enjoy the company of the small group of them at Malfoy Manor. They, at least, treated her like she was better than dirt. She was also confident that they liked her more than their masters. Though Petunia could theoretically give them commands—so long as they weren't overridden by a witch or wizard—she never did in practice.

Light leaked out from a small sitting room on the second floor, and Petunia's steps slowed as she approached.

Her excursion had, of course, been undertaken in the hopes of finding Narcissa, but she hadn't held her breath.

Despite having gotten what she wanted, she hesitated outside the door.

The past five years had been difficult for both of them, full of ups and downs but primarily downs. If she'd thought things were bad at Hogwarts, nothing had prepared her for the strange dynamics that sprung into place once Narcissa was a properly married off pureblood witch.

Though they shared a house, she and Narcissa hardly spoke to each other. Whenever Narcissa fetched Petunia for a spell, she made a concerted effort not to look her in the eyes. Not knowing what else to do, Petunia settled for nothing.

Taking a deep breath, she rapped her knuckles against the door and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. Lucius would have lashed out if he'd seen such behavior from her, but Narcissa didn't dare do the same. She merely watched as Petunia entered the room and lingered inside the door.

Petunia observed Narcissa's red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. It was clear that she hadn't expected anyone to seek her out that night, but Petunia was more thankful than ever that she'd ventured out from her room. Even so, she had no idea what to do next. Her brain wouldn't let her body do what it wanted, and she was certain Narcissa wouldn't have allowed it either.

The two women remained still for a long time just looking at each other.

It was the first time in more than a year that Narcissa had actually looked at Petunia, and the hair all over Petunia's skin stood at attention.

"What's going on?" Petunia asked suddenly, crossing her arms against her chest. "Why are you in here crying?"

Narcissa let out an undignified snort and wiped her nose with a handkerchief embroidered with the Black family crest. The handkerchief was old and hardly touched since her marriage. There was some long-abandoned knitting in her lap, and she fiddled with one of the needles as Petunia came farther into the room and perched herself on one of the uncomfortable sofas. Though Narcissa was doing her best to keep her face emotionless, her sniffling continued as she began knitting without magic, a skill she'd never allow Lucius to know she had.

"Now that Draco's been born, Lucius wants nothing to do with me," Narcissa said, her voice as emotionless as her face despite her tears. "He spends all of his time with her, but that's to be expected. Everyone always says that men are incapable of controlling their base urges. I'll move past it just as countless wives have before me."

Petunia frowned at her, but Narcissa was too occupied with her knitting to glance up.

"Her" was Lucius' own soulmate, a Muggleborn named Eva who occupied the room next to Petunia's. Though Eva wasn't worthy of marrying a pureblood either, her and Lucius' relationship had taken a very different route than Petunia and Narcissa's. That much had been apparent from the moment Petunia met Eva.

It was to be expected perhaps. They'd had several years together in the Manor before Narcissa and Petunia had entered the picture.

Petunia's lips tightened as a loud sob broke free from Narcissa. She didn't look up from her knitting as her body began to shake.

"Why did you marry him, Narcissa?" Petunia asked in a whisper, shaking her head. "You knew this would happen. Why agree to it?"

Narcissa's glare as she finally looked up from her knitting made Petunia shrink backwards, afraid that she might have pushed Narcissa too far. But she hadn't. Of course, she hadn't. No matter how much she pushed, Narcissa never reached her breaking point. Part of Petunia wanted her to, but nothing ever changed.

Instead of the fire Petunia expected, Narcissa's shoulders slumped once more.

"I regret it," she whispered. "I do."

She took a long, shaky breath as she looked Petunia in the eyes. Petunia didn't dare move; she hardly dared to breathe.

"When I envisioned the future, I knew it would be difficult, but I thought that fulfilling my duty would be enough. I would be happy and proud that I was fulfilling my rightful duty. I was wrong, Petunia. I was very wrong. I've hurt both of us, and I'm sorry."

The two women stared at each other for a long time, tears making Narcisa's bright blue eyes shine in the dim light of the fire. Petunia longed to close the gap between them, but she couldn't bridge it, not after five years of careful distance.

"If it weren't for Draco," Narcissa continued, blotting at her face with her handkerchief, "I'd leave with you right now. I swear I would, but I can't, Petunia. I can't leave my son."

She broke into sobs, and Petunia couldn't take it any longer. She reached out and took Narcissa's hand. Narcissa let out an audible sigh when they touched but didn't otherwise acknowledge Petunia's actions.

"I'd never ask you to leave Draco," Petunia said, squeezing Narcissa's hand again to emphasize her words. "He's done nothing wrong, and we both know he's better off with you than his father."

If the last few months had proven anything, it was that Lucius Malfoy did not care much for being a parent. He needed an heir, of course, and he cared for Draco in his own way. Petunia was willing to admit that much. But he didn't know how to care for a child, and he didn't care to learn.

Narcissa stared at Petunia, her mouth hanging open. It was the first time in a long time that Petunia had left her speechless, and despite the weight of the situation, Petunia was proud to see that she still held some sway over her soulmate. Years without so much as fingertips brushing against each other had made her forget how invirograting it was.

Before she could say anything else, Narcissa leaned forward and closed the space between them. In the split second before their lips touched, Petunia's mind went into overdrive, but once they were kissing, she lost the ability to think of anything except Narcissa's touch.

No matter how long it had been, the kiss was familiar, and both women sunk into it easily.

Nothing about the reality of their situation had changed. Petunia knew she was violating every rule she'd been strict about over the years, and she would hate herself for that later. But in the present, she couldn't have cared less.

In the present, she had Narcissa pressed against her again, and nothing else mattered.

Lucius Malfoy was one of the masked men who the Daily Prophet was calling Death Eaters. The paper claimed they destroyed the homes of Muggleborns and killed Muggles on behalf of You-Know-Who. Petunia wasn't supposed to know what Lucius got up to when he disappeared from the house late at night, but there was no other explanation that made sense. His mistress, after all, was well accounted for.

His "friends" began visiting the manor with greater frequency, and Petunia couldn't help but overhear parts of their conversations. No one told her anything directly, but they were never concerned about her overhearing them either. After all, she was Narcissa's soulmate, and Muggle soulmates never betrayed the witch or wizard they were bound to. Petunia supposed that idea extended to the spouse of one's soulmate too no matter how little affection he inspired.

In a way, Lucius' friends were right. Petunia didn't tell anyone what she heard about Lucius torturing Muggles before he crawled into bed with his Muggleborn lover.

She wanted to tell someone; she wanted to believe that Lucius would face justice if the truth was revealed. But she knew her movements were being tracked, and even if the Ministry apprehended Lucius, he had plenty of friends ready to avenge him. Narcissa wouldn't be enough to stop them if she'd even try.

While Lucius' friends gathered at Malfoy Manor, it would have been smarter for Petunia to stay tucked away in her room, safe from the anger and abuse she knew they were capable of, but such gatherings were also some of the few times she and Narcissa could be together without any fear of being interrupted, and Petunia frequently couldn't let herself stay away.

Narcissa's pull on her was too strong. Petunia was even willing to tiptoe right past the room where Lucius had congregated with his friends instead of going down a floor to avoid it.

She paused as she approached the door, unable to quell her curiosity when she was already there. There was no telling what they were talking about, but no one had bothered to put a silencing charm on the door, as if Petunia needed more proof that they didn't see her as capable of being a threat.

"Not that I'm against going after the Potters, mind you."

Petunia gasped before pressing a hand over her mouth in horror. Thankfully, none of the Death Eaters gave any indication they'd heard her in the hallway. Petunia waited a moment before taking another step towards the door, determined to learn why her sister's family had caught the group's attention.

"All I'm saying," the same man continued, "is I wish we knew what they'd done. What makes them special? They're just two of Dumbledore's minions. They're a Mudblood and a blood traitor and not even the best he has."

If for different reasons, Petunia wondered the same thing. She had only traded a handful of letters with Lily since she left school, and their correspondence had died off completely in the last couple of years. She had discerned for herself that Lily must have joined the group that people whispered about Dumbledore creating, but Lily hadn't trusted her enough to share that information personally. And Petunia couldn't imagine her little sister being a significant player in a group that was also said to include the likes of Dumbledore and Alastor Moody.

"That's not for us to bother with, Goyle," Lucius drawled. "The Dark Lord has his reasons, and the family must be dealt with. It's not our place to question him with whys."

"I'm not questioning him," Goyle said, the rise of his voice hinting that he was anxious about being labelled a troublemaker. "I've got no problem killing Mudbloods. Everyone here knows that."

"You're forbidden from killing this Mudblood, Goyle."

Petunia's lips thinned.

It was Narcissa's sister Bellatrix. Petunia had little direct experience with her, but she knew enough to know that she was wildly different from both Narcissa and Andromeda. There was a ferocity to her that she put to terrifying uses. She was someone Petunia had quickly learned to avoid at all costs. She'd had her suspicions that Bellatrix was more involved in Lucius' Death Eater business than Narcissa was, but she had never before found proof of it.

"I know," Goyle said defensively. "These ones are for the Dark Lord to take care of himself. I can follow instructions, Malfoy. What I was saying was I don't care if they die. I even want to watch if he'll let me. I always enjoy a good show."

Several of the others laughed while Petunia clenched her hands into fists in the hall. She wanted to storm inside and tell them off, but of course, she couldn't. They had wands; she had a soulmate in a different part of the manor who wouldn't want to cause trouble.

She couldn't even intervene in less direct ways. Any letter she sent to the Potters would be intercepted before it left the manor grounds. Petunia had long hoped that was why Lily had stopped writing.

She backed away from the door, unable to stomach anything more.

She trembled as she hurried to Narcissa's room, which was farther down the hall and up a smaller staircase that led only to the larger, more private bedrooms.

She threw open her lover's door without concern for propriety and nearly slammed it shut with a surge of repressed fear. It didn't matter if she was heard. With Lucius downstairs, there was no one around to hear them even if they shouted.

Petunia's heart raced as she leaned against the door, her chest heaving. Her gaze focused on Narcissa as if she'd already known where she would be. She was sitting on a chaise lounge in front of the fireplace, where a low fire still burned. Her thin robe draped across her figure in a way that Petunia typically found alluring, but in that moment, she hardly noticed it.

The Death Eater's conversation lingered in her mind, making her feel dirty for having heard it.

"Petunia," Narcissa said slowly, rising from her lounge. "Is something the matter?"

She approached Petunia like one would a startled cat, but Petunia had no intention of running. She knew that, with those men in the house, Narcissa's room was one of the safest places for her, and she had no intentions of ruminating over what she heard alone.

"Lily," she said, her voice cracking. She swallowed and tried again. "I heard them talking downstairs. The Dark Lord wants the Potters; he wants Lily. They're a target."

She didn't fully grasp how panicked she was until she began talking and realized it was difficult to breathe. Narcissa's brow furrowed as she stood in front of her, boxing her against the door in a way that felt strangely comforting. Her hands trailed up and down along Petunia's arms.

Petunia began to cry. Narcissa's hands traveled to her face, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. Petunia couldn't look her in the face anymore as her tears refused to stop flowing.

She'd hardly spoken to Lily in years. Even at Hogwarts, they'd kept their distance from each other. If someone had asked her under less vulnerable conditions, Petunia would have said she hardly cared for her sister, yet the fear that had encased her heart hinted that things were more complicated than that.

With her vision blurred by tears, she didn't realize what Narcissa was doing until their lips were pressed together. She pushed against Narcissa's shoulders until she pulled away with a frown on her lips.

"We have to do something," Petunia said weakly, still pressing against Narcissa's shoulders. "They're going to hurt Lily. Maybe the baby. We have to do something."

Narcissa's frown deepened as she stared at Petunia. Her hand found Petunia's hair again, playing with the loose strands that framed her face.

"There's nothing to do," she whispered. "We don't stand a chance against the Dark Lord. What he wants is final."

Petunia pushed her away with a growl and stomped towards the fireplace, staring into the flames until they burned her eyes.

"There has to be something!" she exclaimed, twirling around to face Narcissa, who remained in front of the door. "We can't stand by and let my little sister die."

Narcissa shook her head as she approached slowly, one foot in front of the other. She came to a stop with the chaise lounge between them.

"Don't underestimate the Dark Lord's power, Petunia. You'll wind up dead yourself."

Silence hung in the air between them long enough for Petunia to start counting her breaths. Her heart wouldn't stop racing.

Narcissa took one more step forward, placing one hand on the back of the lounge and purposefully letting her dressing gown slip down her shoulder.

"Petunia, there's nothing for us to do. Let me distract you."

She reached out a hand, but Petunia swatted it away, her face contorting in anger.

"No," she said. "No, I can't. Not when…"

She trailed off, unable to put her worst fears into words that would make them even more potent. She didn't look at Narcissa as she pushed past her and out the room. Perhaps another trek across the manor wasn't the safest of options, but in that moment, it felt like the only option she had.

For the next couple of weeks, Petunia hardly saw Narcissa. She kept to her rooms as much as possible, hardly conversing with anyone who wasn't one of the house elves. Occasionally, she spoke to Eva, but their conversation was stilted. Eva was too wrapped up in Lucius' affection to stop and think about his actions despite being a Muggleborn herself. Sometimes, Petunia found it difficult to even look at her.

She slept uneasily, with nightmares haunting her every night. Narcissa could have provided potions to help calm her mind, but Petunia refused to ask for them. And, whether because of a slip of the mind or irritation, Narcissa didn't reach out to offer them.

It had been one such restless night when Petunia realized that the hands grasping at her in her dreams were, in fact, real hands. She shot up in bed, gasping with fear at the figure hovering above her.

Narcissa didn't shrink away, and Petunia slumped against her pillows as she recognized her soul mate's form even in the darkness of night. Narcissa also didn't let go of Petunia's shoulders, though she no longer shook her. Petunia stared at her, the moonlight reflecting off the blue of her eyes.

"What is it?" Petunia asked, her breathing ragged.

Narcissa bit her lip, her fingers tightening around Petunia as she spoke.

"The Potters are gone. The Dark Lord killed them."

When the announcement came, Petunia had expected to cry or shout. She had been angry for so long that it would have been fitting for her to finally explode.

She didn't.

She stared at Narcissa as if she hadn't understood her, but she had. She'd understood loud and clear, and she felt the full weight of what Narcissa had told her. But after weeks of anticipation, she found that she didn't have much of a reaction to give.

It was just another fact of life. She was a soulmate who would never be seen as an equal. Purebloods would always fight for control. You-Know-Who had murdered another Muggleborn.

Those were all facts Petunia couldn't change.

"The whole family?" she asked.

Narcissa stared at her for a long time, analyzing her reaction. Petunia knew that she didn't understand it, but she didn't bother to explain as she waited for the answer. She shook her head slowly, making Petunia's heart rise to her throat.

"They've said that the boy survived," Narcissa said in a detached voice, like she hadn't yet processed this part of the story either. "Petunia, the Dark Lord is gone. He tried to kill the baby, and instead, he was vanquished himself. No one knows how it happened. Lucius and the others are in the sitting room pointing fingers at each other, but no one has claimed responsibility. We can't go out there."

Petunia hardly even heard the part about Lucius. Her thoughts had fixated only on the fate of Lily's young son.

"Harry survived?" she asked in a raspy voice. "How?"

"I don't know!" Narcissa exclaimed. "No one does."

"Where is he?"

Narcissa took a deep breath, her eyes mournful.

"None of them," Petunia knew she meant the Death Eaters, "will go near the house. They left the boy there. Dumbledore or someone will have gotten him by now."

Petunia pressed a hand over her racing heart. At first, she'd almost expected Harry to have been brought to the manor with the Death Eaters. The possibility had thrilled her before she considered what that would mean in regards to his fate.

Logically, she knew he was better off with Dumbledore or any of his parents' friends than he was with her, but for the first time, she felt a drive to do something. She hadn't taken much time to consider him before, thinking primarily of Lily when she thought of the family at all. Suddenly, she cared immensely.

She was his closest living relative. She knew James Potter's parents had died not a month after Harry was born; that had been in the last of Lily's letters. Though Sirius Black was his godfather, Petunia didn't trust him after what he'd gotten up to in school.

Her daydreams about what the future might hold if she got ahold of Harry took over her thoughts, blotting out the present reality. Narcissa's hand gripping her arm brought her back to the present.

Narcissa leaned over her. Her eyes were wide, irises hardly visible behind her dilated pupils. Petunia had only seen her so disheveled when they were both undressed.

"Petunia," she said, "do you realize what this means? The Dark Lord is gone. Dumbledore has won. All those who supported the Dark Lord will be put on trial. Lucius…"

She trailed off, shaking her head. The sudden change in their circumstances had overwhelmed her. Instead of continuing, she took to staring at Petunia, who stared back with a frown.

"You think they'll be sent to Azkaban?" Petunia asked. "Their identities were a secret, and Malfoys never face consequences. I'd have assumed you'd figured that out by now."

Petunia was far too aware of that truth to think it would change now, but Narcissa nodded, her expression one of pure determination.

"I know every single soul who stepped foot in this house for the last five years," she said.

Petunia stared at her, her lips slightly parted. Something had overcome Narcissa and changed her over the course of that night. Petunia wondered about the Death Eaters several floors below them, fighting with each other as their lives unraveled. Had their sense of desperation reached Narcissa too?

"You'd be willing to testify against them?" Petunia asked. "Even though you know they would come after you? Would you turn in your sister?"

Narcissa didn't answer with words. She kissed Petunia hard on the lips. Petunia, still overwhelmed with emotion, kissed back. It was tempting to lose themselves and ignore the chaos around them. She wished they could have done it forever, but far too soon, Narcissa pulled away.

"Yes," she said with a short nod of her head.

Petunia blinked at her, taking several seconds to realize that it was an answer to her previous question.

She stared at Narcissa for a long moment. There was hesitation in her eyes. She wasn't confident in her answer. She was utterly terrified. While Narcissa was plenty of things, Petunia never would have called her brave. Looking at her in that moment, she couldn't say with confidence that she expected Narcissa to do anything of the sort.

That didn't stop her from leaning forward and kissing her like she believed her.