Lily's eyes were barely visible in the small, narrow eyes.
Her slender frame abnormally stretched to heights beyond what it should.
He delicate features made harsh and cruel on a to thin face.
Her hair, a strawberry blonde, paled against the vibrant red of Lily.
She was always almost Lily, but never quite so.
Is it a wonder she could hate the son of the girl who taunted her for her flaws by simply existing?
The girl who had overshadowed her until she was little more than a starving tree in the shade of a great, elegant oak.
Perhaps she was petty, held on to her anger too long.
Let it blind her to what her heart had always known.
While most of her was merely almost Lily, a small place in her heart contained a piece of Lily so refined and pure, but now took its turn at being overshadowed. This time by the sheer weight of her envy.
But it was in this spot where her nephew resided, the very reason she let him in.
Not even Petunia knows her biggest secret.
But she would always love Harry Potter.
Her sister's son.