Scars
Petunia didn't know how long she stood there, staring down at the baby wrapped in a blanket, a note tucked into his blanket. She felt her anger spike, at those freaks for having the audacity to leave this-this thing on her doorstep. What, her sister needed her help, yet she couldn't even be decent enough to come ask her in person?
Sighing angrily, she did reach down with shaking hands, carefully unfolding the letter. Unwillingly, but she needed to read what was in the letter, what horrible thing happened that caused a baby to be left on her doorstep. Because she knew, deep down, that Lily would never do the harsh things Petunia was accusing her of. There had to be a reason, and a bad one at that.
Petunia shuddered, squashing that feeling, flooding her heart instead with righteous anger and bitter jealousy. She had fueled herself on those feelings for so long, what was one more night?
She sat down on the ground, staring flatly at the baby in front of her. Her hands trembled as she crumpled the letter, her fingers itching to tear it apart and throw the pieces into the wind.
Her stupid, selfish sister, and her sister's stupid, reckless husband, both foolishly jumping into situations with no thought of the people around them. She exhaled sharply, turning to glare at the baby in front of her, who stared up at her with insufferably innocent Lily eyes.
"What are you looking at?" Petunia snapped chokingly, but the baby just blinked slowly, before squirming with a soft whine. Petunia continued to glare, feeling her irritation at the poor boy grow. Her heart clenched. "You're parents-my sister-my stupid, stupid sister." Petunia gasped, placing her head in her hands. She sat like that for a few seconds, before unfurling herself and clinically picking up the baby in her hands. She stared at him again as he stared up at her with annoyingly despairing eyes.
"Freak," She hissed angrily, going back inside, using all the control inside her to refrain from slamming the door. The thought of what the neighbours would think was the only thing that prevented her from expressing her rage on the door.
Once inside, she stared at the baby in her arms again, and she felt another stab of emotion in her chest. She inhaled sharply, blinking as she looked away from the boy's weirdly grief-stricken face. Could babies even feel grief, were they even capable of that? Petunia huffed angrily, but her anger receded slightly when she looked down and saw the soft tears on the baby's – Harry's – face. She swallowed thickly.
"Dammit," She whispered, looking up at the ceiling. "Damn it, Lily."
Her sister was gone.
Her stupid, perfect, goody-two-shoes, selfish sister was gone. Petunia could barely comprehend how she felt about it and she didn't quite like how that made her feel about herself. She looked down at the baby in her arms yet again, before scowling out her window.
The wizards wanted to barge into her life, and force their petty problems on her, and she just had to take it? After everything they had made her suffer through? She scowled at the baby in her arms, who stared up at her pitifully. Petunia's chest tightened. Her stupid, foolish sister, dying for the boy in her arms. Lily always had to be the martyr, the generous, self-sacrificing attention seeker. Petunia glared at the baby.
There was no love for this baby in her heart. The wizards would not force her into this boy's life, not like how she was forced to watch as Lily was placed on a podium and surrounded with praise, leaving her in the shadows, forgotten and second best.
Lily's son would feel the way she did.
She didn't know how she'd do it, but the wizarding world's special savior would not get any kindness from her. The wizards who thrust this upon her, explaining only with a feeble, pathetic letter, would not get the hero that they expected her to raise, in eleven years. Her heart turned cold as she looked down at the baby in her arms, as she stared into Lily's eyes. Dudley deserved better than to be compared to this freak of a boy.
Her jaw set, she made her way to the cupboard under the stairs where they kept Dudley's old baby cot. She popped it open, dusted it off and placed the boy down, who was watching her, eyes filled with an abnormal sadness that did not look right on a baby's face. She stared at him unflinchingly, before shutting the door and going up the stairs.
As she lay down beside her husband in her bed, the lingering thoughts of the boy left her mind.
And as the sun rose and the next day started, the wizarding world ignorantly celebrated while their savior cried alone in the dark.