A/N: It's another night for Petunia, but now there's a new visitor. Ghost!AU.

Submission for:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Myths & Legends Assignment #6 -Write about the ghost of a child who has 'unfinished business'. The ghost cannot be a poltergeist. You cannot write about Colin Creevey or any of the other children who died during the Second Wizarding War. The child must be aged eleven or under.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"Please," Petunia whispers, sitting on the edge of her bed with wet eyes. "Just leave me." She shivers, despite her long-sleeved, modest nightgown, but she knows the drop in temperature is caused by him.

He is standing by the door staring back at her, refusing to move for the past hour. She hopes that if she keeps watching him, he will eventually tire and leave her alone for the night. However, in the back of her mind, she knows that will not happen. Ghosts do not tire, and soon she will lose this battle.

All around her is quiet except for the soft snoring of her husband in the bed behind her. Vernon lays sleeping, unperturbed by the sudden presence in the room. Why shouldn't he be? He had already moved on from the incident, disposed of the body and stopped all the questions of what had happened to their dear nephew.

But she hadn't. She couldn't. She still felt the regret of letting it happen in the first place. She still felt like she should have gone against her husband. She still felt like she could have taken the poor little boy inside, given him warmer clothes, loved him. She should have, but she didn't. Instead, she let him die in the worst way for a small child.

"I've already apologized," she sobs, breaking her gaze with the apparition to hide her face in her hands. She had apologized every time he came at night to visit her, every time he came to stand by her bedside, but he kept coming. "Why won't you just leave me?"

She can't say she's completely surprised when her nephew's tiny hand touches her shoulder. He has always done this during his visit, and each time doesn't make it easier. She raises her head out of hands to see eyes just a few inches away from hers.

"I'm so cold," he says, his arms moving to wrap around his tiny body,

The tears well up in her eyes once more, and without thinking, she does what she should have done while the little boy was alive.

She wraps her arms as tightly around the ghost as possible, her tears rolling down her cheeks and dropping on the carpet by her feet. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobs, and when she feels his cold touch move around her neck, she sobs harder.

But suddenly her sobs are quieted by something different, a different voice that shouldn't come from this little ghost boy. This voice is one she hadn't heard in a long time, and it is as stern and angry as the last time she heard it.

"How could you?" the voice says, and the icy touch on her shoulders almost feels like it's burning her.

She pulls away to see her late sister before her. "Lily," she whispers in disbelief. In death, her appearance had frozen and though her colour had faded, her sister was as youthful as the last time she had seen her eight years ago.

"How could you?" the ghost almost screams.

Petunia drops to her knees at her sister's feet. "I didn't mean to, Lily," she cries. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Petunia!"

Petunia turns suddenly to see her husband sitting up in the bed, looking at her with the strangest look. "Vernon! He was here! She- Lily- she-"

"Just stop all this rubbish and go to sleep," he says gruffly, before he rolls over and ignores her once more.

Petunia looks between her unhelpful husband and the space where her sister was standing. Now it is empty, but she isn't. Now the nightly visits have changed, and she's even more frightened than she was the night before.