December 1973

Christmas was meager that year. The announcement of the Three-Day week frightened her parents badly enough that they began to save money for everything but the essentials. Lily didn't appear to mind terribly; she and Petunia both understood that their parents needed to be able to meet the household expenses and pay for Hogwarts besides. She did, however, rankle at the injustice of it all.

"It isn't fair that they're being punished for something that isn't their fault. It isn't as if they went on strike. They're not even miners," she said to Petunia, late one night. She kicked her leg more or less in time with Dark Side of the Moon, turned to a low volume on their shared record player.

Petunia flipped the page of the magazine she was reading. "Thank goodness for that. They'd track coal dust everywhere."

Lily ignored her. "If we could do magic outside school, we could help them. We could charm their lights to burn without power, or make a fire that doesn't need wood to keep them warm, or… or… I don't know, we could do something!"

Lily stopped to take a breath. Petunia let her. A minute or so passed while Petunia tried to concentrate on her magazine. There was a new Genesis album out. She wished she could afford to give it to Lily for Christmas.

"That's what You-Know-Who and his ilk want. They want Muggles like Mum and Dad to suffer in the cold while Witches and Wizards like us do everything by magic. He'd kill all Muggles, if he could."

An image of her mother, sprawled on the living room floor and her father, covered in blood, flashed through Petunia's mind. Her fingers flinched and made a small tear appear in the page she was turning.

"Please don't say things like that," she said, smoothing the page.

She could see from the set of Lily's mouth that she was prepared to launch into what was likely a familiar argument to her. Upon seeing her sister's face, Lily's expression changed to something Petunia couldn't read. She slumped against the wall and nodded.

"Sorry. I know you think about stuff like this. It's just, people at Hogwarts, a lot of them don't get it. They don't care that families like us are getting attacked and murdered. All they care about is who's kissing who at school. It drives me mental."

Petunia shrugged. Elspeth Hart was Muggleborn, and tried her best to hide it. Anita was a halfblood. She'd never heard either of them talk about the recurring rashes of murders attributed to the Death Eaters. Anita took the official line of the Ministry that the killings were unrelated to Death Eater activity, mostly in deference to Poinsettia, Petunia supposed. One morning, however, Petunia remembered getting to the usual table early, and finding Anita staring at the Daily Prophet, cheeks sallow as her eyes traced the headline, over and over: Ministry Mum on More Muggleborn Murders. Could Halfbloods be Next?

"They're scared. They don't want to think about it."

Lily let out a puff of a sigh. Her hair fluttered and settled over her cheek. She brushed it away. "I know. But ignoring it won't make it go away. Someone needs to do something."

The record ended, and Lily picked up the arm and set it in its cradle. Petunia watched the back of her head as she slipped the record back into its sleeve, filed it away, and searched for another album to play. Her hair obscured her face. "Someone has to do something," she muttered.

"Someone will," said Petunia.

Very early on Christmas morning, when it was still dark and cold enough that the breath from her nose made mist rise from her as if she were a dragon, Petunia left a Christmas card in the Snape's mailbox, addressed to Mrs. Snape. On the inside, it said "Thank you."

She didn't sign it.

January 1974

Upon Petunia's return to Hogwarts, she found that several things were different.

The first was Poinsettia. Somehow over the holidays she had forgiven Petunia of her unfortunate blood relation to Lily. She insisted that Petunia join them for dinner nights as she used to, extra homework be damned. Petunia quickly accepted. Capricious and noisome as they were, she'd missed them. They were her closest friends.

The second was that Petunia began to receive owl post every single day from Regulus Black. When one of the school owls dropped a note onto her toast the first day back at Hogwarts she thought she'd forgotten something at home. She opened it to find a veritable elegy.

Regulus begged her forgiveness for his thoughtless comments on the train and asked her if she would be willing to join him sometime in one of the unused classrooms to discuss things, and also to please not tell anyone that he wrote her or wanted to meet with her because he would be flayed alive by his parents were they to find out. She wrote back that she wasn't impressed with him and he could go shove his wand in his ear.

When the trend continued every morning, she became cross and wrote back that if he wanted to be forgiven for his outrageous ideas about Muggleborns, he should sign up for Muggle Studies next year and give her some peace. After that, Regulus cut his letters down to twice a week. He did not, as far as she knew, sign up for Muggle Studies.

Petunia took to setting his unopened notes on fire.

But she did keep her silence. Regulus was confusing and annoying, true, but she didn't like to think what his more unpleasant friends would do to him if they found out, to say nothing of his parents and the consequences that might befall her. The Slytherins that she saw him with were unpleasant-looking people who had reputations for casting rather nasty hexes on the people they disliked. Severus among them. Therefore, when Poinsettia inevitably asked, she told her that the letters were from a secret admirer in Hufflepuff that Petunia wanted nothing to do with, thank you. It worked, though Poinsettia seemed disappointed.

She supposed, one morning as she irritably set a spark to his latest letter and stuffed it into an empty goblet, that she would have to forgive him his stupidity before he stopped. Either that, or so thoroughly ignore him that he grew despondent and gave it up. Poinsettia wouldn't leave the subject alone indefinitely; of that she was sure. She only hoped he'd give up before then and save her the headache.

The third, and oddest thing that changed was the behavior of her roommates. Akeelah was as friendly as ever, but Tanzy and her cohorts now went quiet whenever Petunia entered the room. Petunia knew enough about secrets to cotton on when someone was discussing something they'd rather not like their friends to overhear. When she asked them one night what it was they were hiding from her, Tanzy gave a bubbly laugh and told her that she needn't be suspicious.

"We're only discussing music," she said, with a toss of her ruddy brown hair. "I didn't take you for a Celestina Warbeck fan, Petunia! You should have said something! She's got a concert coming up on Hogsmeade soon and it's all we can talk about lately. I think Dumbledore will let us go if we make a good case. Do you want to come? We could make a picnic of it and bring cameras and get loads of pictures of her and..."

Tanzy went on some length about her plans to see Warbeck until Petunia had to excuse herself to Magical Theory. She heard giggles behind her as she walked down the tower stairs.

It was a poor and obvious obfuscation. So Petunia resolved to break it.

From the time she was very small, Petunia would hide under tables or behind doorways or in closets and just listen to people talk. She found that if the people she was listening to didn't know she was there, they'd say all sorts of interesting things. It was how she discovered the turmoil in the Snape family, the fate of her Grandmother's heirloom china, and the true identity of Father Christmas. Those were the best kinds of secrets; the ones she wasn't supposed to know until she was older. They made her feel included and safe, as if she were the brightest and most-beloved member of a class of the enlightened. No one could surprise her with a question she couldn't answer. If there was a gap in that knowledge, she'd always move to bridge it.

She would occasionally overhear things she didn't like. When she was seven, she discovered that the cat she'd loved since it was a kitten hadn't gone to live on a farm and chase fat mice all day. It was, in fact, buried in the back garden. She was hidden in the closet under the stairs, and her parents were discussing the best method to mark its place without alerting the children. She'd cried for a day about it and couldn't tell her mother why. At the end of it, in spite of her splotchy face and awful, aching heart, she decided that she would rather have had the truth to begin with than to have subsisted on a lie. She'd believed her cat no longer loved her, when what had really happened was that he'd been hit by a passing motorcar and died. She had been angry and hurt when she should have been sad. She had betrayed the cat who loved her without knowing it. Therefore, if pain was the price she had to pay for the truth, then she would pay it without complaint.

She didn't share what she'd discovered with Lily.

At Hogwarts, she'd dabbled often enough in spying, whether it was for herself or for Poinsettia. It was one of Poinsettia's favorite things about her, though she didn't know how Petunia managed it, and Petunia wasn't willing to tell. Her most reliable method was one she'd invented at the end of her third year, after finishing the advanced Charms problems Flitwick gave her from the Fifth year set. It involved a bewitched quill, a Self-Winding Scroll, a pot of ink, a Silencing Charm, and a secure hiding place.

One morning, before the rest of the girls in her dormitory had woken up, Petunia set the parchment under her bed, along with a Quick-Quotes Quill she'd modified into what she called a "Nice-and-Accurate Quill" after a month of frustrated modification. Then she covered the thing with a silencing charm that was just strong enough to cover the scratching and last until lunch. She'd have to run back to her room before then, but she was fairly sure she could manage it without detection. Her silencing charms were very good.

Charms let out at precisely 11:45. Petunia made her way back to Ravenclaw tower in record time. She ran when she was sure no one was watching and briskly walked when there were other people in the corridors with her. She was out of breath by the time she made it to the stairs. Her normally perfectly arranged hair was mussed and her robes hung off one shoulder. A single first year, the only occupant of the common room, stared at her with a gormlessly open mouth.

"Look sharp," she snapped at him. "You'll turn into a frog if you keep staring like that. Maybe Filch will mistake you for one and cook you for his lunch."

He clapped his mouth closed and bolted out the door. She sniffed contemptuously. She was sure she'd never been that ridiculous.

The room was empty. She walked over to her bed, laid down on her stomach, and shuffled under it. The quill was still there against the very back wall, poised to take dictation. The scroll was a quarter of the way covered with writing. She lit her wand and skimmed it to see if her bunkmates had said anything interesting. She found herself disappointed; it was all rubbish, just nonsense about what they should wear with their robes and how much they hated getting up early. She supposed she'd have to wait until evening for more choice tidbits. She renewed the charm and prepared to haul herself out from under the bed when she heard the door open and a patter of footsteps. She flattened herself to the floor and held her breath.

"...too-low cut," said Tanzy. There was a rustling sound and then the click of a closed door. "It's scandalous the way the professors let her get away with it."

"Well she can get away with anything she likes," said Elspeth. Petunia watched her cloak fall to the floor. "Liza's got far too many connections. And I hear she lets just about anyone stick his hand up her shirt. Wouldn't be surprised if some of the professors were in on it."

"You're terrible," said Tanzy in delight.

"It's true," said Elspeth. "How do you think she maintains those grades? Certainly not studying."

"Studying anatomy."

The two of them broke into a fit of giggles. Petunia cursed herself for taking too long with her spell. She hated Elspeth's voice. It made her think of mud tracked across a kitchen floor. She supposed she was lucky to be in a good hiding place when they came in, but she'd far rather have read a transcription of their conversation than have had to listen to that odious voice.

"Oooh, that reminds me. I've got something else good about you-know-who."

"You-know-who?" said Tanzy. She tittered. "You don't have to do that. Petunia's not here to catch you."

"Thank Merlin for that. She's such a stuck-up bitch sometimes," said Elspeth, and threw herself on her bed. Petunia heard the springs creaking and the soft thump of fabric upon fabric as her body hit the mattress. "Ever since she started going with Poinsettia's set she's been so overbearing. 'Don't leave that out, it's unsanitary!' 'We live in a dormitory, not a pig sty!' Ugh! She's worse than my Mother."

"It's not as if a bit of a mess will kill us," agreed Tanzy. "And it gives work for the house elves."

Petunia let their words pass through her. She was no stranger to being called this. Once she started socializing with Poinsettia, envy had stirred among the students, leaving far more than one to call her a number of nasty names. This only made it easier for her to report the actions of some of her more insulting classmates to Poinsettia. Elspeth's unfortunate infatuation with a Slytherin beater had been made widely known as a direct consequence as this. As far as Petunia was concerned, her conscience was clean.

"Exactly," said Elspeth. "But don't let's get off track. I've got something to tell you," she sang.

Tanzy moaned theatrically. "Stop teasing me! Out with it!"

"I heard," she pronounced, "From Billiam, who heard it from Annie, who heard it from one of the Slytherins in third year, that Lily Evanshas been passing off Severus Snape's work as her own!"

Petunia's vision pulsed.

"No!"

"Yes! How else do you think someone like her could be so good at it?"

"Like her?"

"You know." Elspeth's voice dropped. "Lowborn."

Tanzy gasped. "Elspeth! If Dumbledore heard you!"

"Well he can't."

"Oooh, you're awful."

"I don't care. Anyway, listen. I haven't got to the good part yet. In exchange for his Potions work, Lily lets him-"

The door to the dormitory opened and the springs on Elspeth's bed squeaked loudly.

"Akeelah!" squeaked Tanzy. "How are you?"

"Fine. Just dropping off my books," there was a long pause. Petunia watched Tanzy and Elspeth's feet shift, and Akeelah drop her bag next to her bed and stop at the door. "Aren't you two heading down to lunch? You'll be late if you don't hurry."

"Yes! Yes, of course we are. Come on, Elspeth."

The two girls got to their feet and followed Akeelah out the door. They picked up some other subject to talk about; whatever it was, Petunia didn't care. She dragged herself out from under the bed, smoothed down her robes, and counted to ten.

How dare they. How dare they spread baseless rumors about her sister. Passing off Severus' work as her own? Ludicrous. And because she was Muggle-born? Did they not think she was good enough, or hard-working enough to have earned her grades? Petunia kicked Elspeth's dirty robe across the floor. It hit the wall and stayed bunched in the corner like a pile of trash.

It was jealousy. It was always, always jealousy. They were jealous of Petunia for her social status and they were jealous of her sister for her place in the Slug Club. Merlin knew what else they were spreading about Lily. She thought of all the little revenges that Severus had done on his enemies; the horns, the missing bones, the little burns and switched potions ingredients that resulted in explosions or worse. She wished she could cast them all on Tanzy and Elspeth, on Billiam and Annie and that unknown Slytherin from third year. How dare they speak about her sister that way. How dare they. Her sister? Oh, but she'd make them pay.

February 1974

Petunia's advanced Charms work kept her to studying as the week progressed. She saw Poinsettia and the girls a few times, but couldn't get a word in about Tanzy and Elspeth thanks to Anita's incessant praise of Poinsettia's aunt for helping to pass stringent anti-Goblin legislation and Poinsettia's subsequent delight in the subject. Hogsmeade weekend was coming up at the very least. Petunia and Poinsettia had already made plans to visit the sweet shop, as Padriac would be busy with make-up Transfiguration work. That would be Petunia's chance.

She'd picked up a few more rumors about Lily on her own thanks to careful listening at mealtimes and strategically-placed scrolls. Some of them were utterly nasty. Petunia knew people how low people could sink out of jealousy, having been victim of it herself, but she never imagined that it could ever affect her kind, vivacious sister. Herself, prickly and cold, and Poinsettia, arrogant and a bit ostentatious at times, yes. But not Lily. Never Lily.

Hogsmeade morning dawned cold and crisp. Scores of students kicked their way through the previous night's snowfall, many in couples. Petunia met Poinsettia and the girls in front of Madam Puddifoot's. Every table in the place was full. Trails of multicolored confetti sprawled out the front door and on to the white streets. Petunia hated to think who would have to clean up such a mess.

Poinsettia stood next to the door, gazing longingly at the mess of pink and red inside the cafe. She told Petunia in detail how devastated she was that she and Padriac were forced to remain apart during such a romantic time of year. She even cried a little. Fine, crystalline tears shone on her cheeks before falling onto the fresh snow. Circe and Anita reassured her while Petunia supplied her with new handkerchiefs to dry her face.

"Thank you, darling," she said, as she gently wiped her cheeks. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm ridiculous, crying on such a lovely day."

"Oh you are not!" said Anita. "You've every right to be upset. McGonagall was out of line keeping him at the castle."

Circe glanced at Petunia and looked quickly away from her. Petunia bit her lip in an effort not to smile. Padriac was overall a very sweet boy, but his Transfiguration marks left McGonagall very well within her rights to do whatever she liked with him.

Poinsettia sighed. "I feel sorry for her, really. She has no idea what it's like to be young and in love."

"Doesn't Padraic have something planned for you later this evening?" asked Petunia.

Poinsettia laughed. "He does. We're going to have dinner in the Astronomy Tower, under the stars."

"Oooh," sighed Circe. "How romantic. You're so lucky."

"Not as lucky as Padriac," said Anita.

The four of them went on for the next few minutes about Padriac's good fortune in attaining someone like Poinsettia. A good round of flatterly always put Poinsettia in a good mood. By the time they entered Honeyduke's the subject of Padriac's exile was completely forgotten, and they had moved on to their more comfortable banter regarding the truth of the latest rumors about their fellow students.

"Liza's dating Violet Perkins now," said Anita. "You remember her? That ridiculous Hufflepuff who tried to enchant records with Barbara Hambly? I'd say something about her taste, but you know she'd sleep with anyone that can wave a wand."

"Or anyone who couldn't," said Poinsettia, tittering. "Liza isn't discerning. She's got the whole of Slytherin in an outright tizzy. You know how they are about Muggleborns."

"Outrageous is what they are. Wilkes and Avery tried to curse her last week," said Circe. "She ended up dyeing their eyebrows blue."

"Good for her," said Petunia.

"Aren't those your friend Snape's lot?" asked Anita.

Petunia colored. "He's not my friend. He's my sister's friend. I've told you a thousand times."

Poinsettia paused in her browsing and looked at Petunia with the air of a professor explaining a rather obvious equation to a slow student. She reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "Dearest. Oh dearest. We know. Anita didn't mean it. It was just a slip of the tongue. Isn't that right, Anita?"

Anita smiled, showing her teeth just a little. "Of course. I didn't mean it. Still friends, Tuney?"

Petunia made herself smile back. "Of course."

"There now, everything's fine," said Poinsettia with a wave of her hand. With the same gesture, she reached onto a nearby shelf and pulled out a small box of marshmallow snowballs. "Oh, these are lovely. Petunia, walk me to the register. Anita, Circe, would you go ahead to the Three Broomsticks and get a table for us while I get these? Petunia will keep me company. Won't you, dear?"

Petunia nodded. Anita and Circe looked at each other. Anita was all smiles, stiff handed and straight-backed. Like a mannequin, thought Petunia. Circe very nearly frowned. She took in a small breath, opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Anita took her hand, and she looked away from them, towards the busy street.

"Of course," said Anita. "See you in a few minutes then."

"Goodbye," said Circe. Petunia could hardly hear her.

"See you soon," she said.

Petunia waved at them. They disappeared into the crowd.

She followed Poinsettia to the counter as she was bid. They didn't have to wait in line long. Poinsettia chattered about her excitement about her pending evening and Petunia praised and envied at the right intervals. There was a pixie in her chest and her hands tingled as if exposed to a sudden heat. She was never alone with Poinsettia. Now was her chance. Tanzy and Elspeth were on her tongue.

Poinsettia paid the shop proprietor with a fat galleon and accepted her change with a smile. "There now. Come on, love. We've got a bit of a walk ahead of us."

Petunia followed her outside. The moment they were out the door, Poinsettia opened her box of sweets and began to examine them. Petunia couldn't wait another second.

"I wanted to talk to you about some girls in my year," she said, very fast. "Tanzy and Elspeth."

"Those two?" said Poinsettia, fingers busy, lashes down. "Couple of vicious little chatterboxes, aren't they?"

Petunia smiled. She could feel the heat leaving her body, and the wings in her chest slow to a stop. "Yes. Yes, they are. They're spreading rumors about my sister."

"Rumors?" said Poinsettia. She selected three marshmallow snowballs from the lot, put the box in her pocket, and began walking. Petunia followed.

"Horrible ones. Have you heard them at all?

"Naturally," said Poinsettia. "And let me be the first to say how sorry I am that this is happening to you. You really don't deserve it."

They passed an open shop door. Almonds and cinnamon mixed with the sharp, muddy scent of snow.

"It's Lily who doesn't deserve it," said Petunia. "She didn't do anything. They're making things up about her because they're jealous."

"And why should they be jealous?"

Petunia frowned. Something in her head was making a noise like a small bell. She ignored it. "Because she's popular and good at Potions and they're not."

"Fair point, love. I'm certain some of them are jealous. Good grade and good looks always inspire envy." She waved her hand as if to indicate herself. "Though," she added, after a moment's pause, "I wouldn't want to get ahead the way she did."

Petunia blinked. Poinsettia took one of the marshmallow snowballs from her hand, chewed, and swallowed. She shivered in delight. "Ooooh, these are just to die for. Here, try some."

Petunia stopped took a jerky step back. "No. No thank you. What did you mean by that?"

Poinsettia turned to her. They stood on the porch of the Three Broomsticks. It began to snow.

"There's a shock. I never thought I'd see the day that I knew more about someone in this school than you, Tuney. Though I suppose since she's your sister…"

Petunia stared at her. Poinsettia waited, her head cocked like a hound's. Petunia said nothing. Poinsettia gave a sympathetic smile and gently patted Petunia's shoulder.

"She couldn't hide it forever, dear. The way she carries on with that Snape boy, it was bound to come out sooner or later."

The volume on the world went down. Everything around them disappeared until there was nothing left but Petunia, Poinsettia, the snow, and the high ringing in Petunia's head.

"What did you tell people about my sister?"

Poinsettia raised one eyebrow. "I only told them the truth, love. No need to get upset. It's no reflection on you, of course; heavens no! You're an upright Witch and make no mistake." She popped another piece of candy into her mouth. Her dark red lips were thin with cold. They looked like crushed rose petals. "You'd never offer yourself to anyone for a leg up. It's sad, really. I hear it often happens to pretty girls who don't have anything else to offer. And she's so pretty that it was only a matter of time before… hm. Well. Best not to think about it. Don't you agree?"

"I…"

"Of course you do. Have a snowball, Tuney."

Poinsettia held out her hand. A fluffy, white sweet sat in the middle of a large hand covered in a black suede glove. Petunia's stomach writhed.

"I have to- I have to go, I'm going to-"

"What's wrong, dear?"

Petunia turned and the Three Broomsticks turned with her. She pushed past thick knots of students, professors, and townsfolk, a swirl of colors purple and black and red and pink, their coats soft and scratchy on the skin of her wrist. Somewhere, she lost her hat. She pulled open the door to the restroom and braced herself against the cold silver sink, her eyes screwed shut. She could still see Poinsettia's hand, clad in black, stark against the falling snow.

"Heavens!" someone exclaimed.

It was Anita. Petunia looked into the mirror to see her standing with her hand in front of her mouth, her nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Please-" Petunia started, but it wasn't any use. The door swung and Poinsettia and Circe appeared.

"Petunia! Are you okay?" Circe laid the back of her hand to Petunia's cheeks and forehead. "You're so cold. I'll get a professor."

"No need for that," said Poinsettia. "Right, Tuney?"

Circe gave her an incredulous look. Petunia swallowed. A wave of nausea lapped at her throat.

"I'll be fine," she said.

"Of course you will," said Poinsettia. "You were only reacting to some bad news."

"Bad news?" said Anita. She didn't sound at all displeased about it.

"About her sister," said Poinsettia. "About how she's been getting ahead."

Petunia stepped backwards. Her back pressed against the blue tile wall. "Don't say that about her," she said, her lips hardly moving.

Poinsettia stopped smiling. Anita put her hand to her chest. Circe tightened her grip on the sink.

"I'll say anything I like about her. Why shouldn't I? She's a cheater. She's a slut. She got into the Slug Club because she has a pretty face and knows how to pass off other people's work as her own."

Circe bit her lip. "Settie… she's only only thirteen, are you sure she-"

"I'm sure," snapped Poinsettia. Circe fell silent. Poinsettia turned back to Petunia. "Good girls don't need to do that to get ahead, Petunia. Good girls like us don't get rewards like her but we have our purity, don't we? Our repuations. Our good name. We're better than her."

The bathroom wall was cold against Petunia's back. She thought of Olivia Wilde. Olivia Wilde, who had to leave school thanks to Poinsettia's continuous campaign to shame her for having a father who disliked her aunt's politics. The Gryffindor boy she supposedly slept with, had that been a lie? Did it matter? She remembered easygoing Liza Rogers before she made the mistake of dating Padraic, and the quick, nervous step she adopted after he broke up with her. She thought of Arnold Blake's second-hand robes and kitchen haircut and remembered how her mother and father had apologized to her and Lily this Christmas for not having quite enough to share as in previous years. She remembered how she and the girls had laughed at Blake until he went red the moment he saw them in the halls. Blake in his patched robes and fraying tie. She tasted something sharp and bitter.

"You and I," said Poinsettia, stepping closer. She held out her hand. "We're better than that. Aren't we, Tuney?"

She's a bloodthirsty snake, said the Lily of her memories.

Petunia looked up.

"Who are you to talk?" she hissed. "Who are you to spread that nonsense about my sister?"

Poinsettia drew back and raised one perfect eyebrow. "Pardon me?"

"As if you have room to speak. As if you have the room to judge. Remember the Astronomy tower, Settie?" She took a step forward. Poinsettia took a step back. "Remember when Padriac dumped Liza, Settie?" She raised her voice. "Remember the empty classroom, Se-"

Poinsettia slapped her across the face.

"Settie!" shrieked Circe.

Circe covered her own mouth with both hands, eyes wide. Poinsettia's nostrils flared as she breathed hard, in and out, in and out. Petunia raised one trembling hand to her cheek.

"You will not speak to me like that," said Poinsettia. "You will not."

Petunia swallowed, and lowered her hand.

"I- I will," she said. Her tongue felt like it was too big in her mouth. "You don't- you don't have the room- you don't get to say- you talk about purity, as if it's something that matters, as if you never-"

"Be quiet, you stupid child," hissed Ponsettia.

Beside her, Anita parted her lips. She reminded Petunia of the dog that sometimes skulked around her neighborhood when it came across a particularly good scrap in the upended garbage bin. Petunia watched Poinsettia's eyes move towards the mirror, then back to her. Dusky color rose in her cheeks. Petunia felt the world pulse.

"You ruin people's lives," she said. "Don't you ruin my sister's because you're jealous she got into the Slug Club and you didn't."

There was a pause. It was like being trapped underwater. The sound of the crowd in the Three Broomsticks was muffled, as if it much more stood between it and them than a single closed door. Above the glittering surface stood Circe, her hands on her mouth, Anita, her eyes hungry, and Poinsettia between them, her hand raised as if to hit Petunia a second time. Petunia tried to remember to breathe.

There was a sharp increase in sound as the door to the restroom opened. A appeared girl in the doorframe; a second-year that Petunia had seen at times in the library. She took in the scene before her and squeaked.

"S-sorry!" she said. "I'll just…"

She trailed off, leaned backwards, then sideways, and disappeared into the crowd. They all watched her go.

Poinsettia gave a great sniff and turned her attention back to Petunia. There was something jerky about her movements now. As if she were connected with an electric circuit that spiked with irregular activity. Her voice held a slight waver when she spoke.

"Well. I can see that you won't be convinced. Will you, dear?"

"Because Lily never-"

"Then it seems to me," she raised her voice, silencing Petunia, "That we have nothing to say to one another." She reached into her purse, pulled out her wand, and placed it on her temple. Her hair, which had been dangerously close to falling into disarray, fell neatly back into place. "It's a pity. Isn't it, Anita?"

Anita started as if she'd been caught daydreaming in class. "Yes. Yes, it is. Isn't it, Circe?"

Circe looked at Anita and for a moment it appeared as if she were about to cry. "Yes," she said. "It is."

She took one last look at the three of them and left the room. Anita glared at Petunia and chased after Circe, leaving Poinsettia and Petunia alone.

"I did like so like you, Petunia," said Poinsettia. "It's a pity you can't see things the way they are. But, of course, blood will tell."

Dark flashed across Petunia's vision. "If you think because we're Muggleborn we-"

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Poinsettia. "Blood status has nothing to do with it. You're so oversensitive about that." She turned away from the mirror to face Petunia. "But you are her sister. You share the same blood. You're the same as her, after all."

Petunia didn't say anything. She stared at Poinsettia, refusing to break eye contact with her. Water dripping into the sink was the only sound in the room. Poinsettia smoothed her robes. The little bow on top of her head, as always, was perfectly placed.

"Goodbye, then," she said. "I trust you know what's expected of you."

"You too," she said.

Poinsettia narrowed her eyes at her audacity, but tilted her head just slightly. Petunia nodded back. And when Poinsettia turned and walked into the teeming crowd of the Three Broomsticks, laughing as she saw someone she recognized, Petunia reached into her hair and pulled the ribbon from it.

"Incendio," she whispered.

After that, Petunia was cut off from Smith's group, and subsequently shunned by anyone who wanted to remain in her good graces. No one knew why, really. They only knew that association with Petunia Evans was suddenly more dangerous than a case of dragon pox. Tanzy and Elspeth actually hid behind a chair when they saw her pass. Billiam tutted under his breath. A few Slytherin girls laughed at her outright. In Ravenclaw tower, she found a nasty note pinned to her dresser. She burned it.

The first night of her ostracization, lying her her bed with the curtains drawn around her, Petunia understood anew what power was. What it had always been. What she had known when she first met Poinsettia and told her everything she knew about Arnold Blake. What she'd known when she spied on Lily and Snape when they were all much younger. What she'd known since she was very small and hid under the table to listen in on her parents' clandestine conversations, and discovered that her cat was dead.

Power was information.