August 1973

"I'm going back tomorrow," Petunia explained, carefully weaving the few strands of hair between her fingers into a small braid. "This time I have to make sure to visit Ivy. Last time I was simply … distracted."

Her companion shook his head, almost making his hair slip from between her fingers.

"Hold still. This time Eugene knows I'm coming and he knows why I'm coming. So he'll take me straight to her."

Finishing the braid she toyed with it a bit, voicing thoughts that spun through her head like a merry-go-round. "Do you think that he was serious about what he said? That he didn't care if I'm a muggle?"

"You're insane."

Petunia startled so badly she almost ripped out part of Aspen's (already pitiful) mane when she whirled around.

The wretched boy stood behind her, his form lanky and shadowed. He had shot up a few inches since she'd last seen him, his stature even more macabrely thin and stretched than usual. Not only his frame had grown but also his nose, dominating his face like a hooked beak. Petunia thought it made him resemble a scavenging bird, with his grey, flapping coat and longish, dark hair.

"You're wiggling your fingers through the air and talking to no-one," he continued, his voice nasally and gleefully mean.

"I'm talking to Aspen!"

Upon hearing his name, Aspen shook his mane again and trotted a few paces away now that his coarse hair was free from Petunia's grasp.

Severus' sneer deepened. "Sure. And what interesting input does he provide?"

Petunia ignored his stupid question, her eyes once more darting over him. He was wearing a loose blouse that looked like something a woman might wear as a nightgown, a faded, thin coat thrown over it. Through the gaping neckline Petunia could see his sharp collar bones outlined starkly, and for one horrifying second Petunia almost expected them to cut through the tightly stretched skin.

Lily is always bragging about those fancy feasts at her stupid school, so how come the wretched boy didn't put on any meat?

Petunia grit her teeth as if she wanted to pulverise the unspoken question between her molars before it could escape. "What do you want? Lily is visiting her friends."

Previously such a statement would have caused the wretched boy to flinch or scowl, but now he just blinked very slowly and turned his face away. "I know. She asked if I wanted to come."

Seeing as he was prowling around through the fields behind their house like a scraggly scarecrow come to life, Petunia could guess what his answer had been. Not that she was overly surprised that Severus didn't necessarily want to watch Lily's merrymaking with people that weren't him. Not only that, but people that were vastly different from him in that they were happy and nice and not at all greasy (Petunia assumed for Lily's benefit).

But it was still strange, witnessing him like this. In the past he might have been resentful or lashing out to disguise how abandoned he felt, but now there was something very bitter and hardened curling in the corners of his thin lips. It made him look … too old.

Petunia always thought of herself as the 'oldest' and most mature. Despite in reality being only a bit over a year older than Severus, fourteen to his thirteen, he was the same age as her little sister. Her baby sister, the one she had always been told to look out for - 'You're the older sister, Petunia' - and to take a measure of responsibility for.

But now standing in front of Severus and catching a glimpse of the bottomless black wells of his eyes, she felt young. Childish. Innocent and naive and sheltered.

And she didn't like it. Petunia was the sensible one, the one who didn't throw tantrums or drag muddy footprints through the whole house. She'd taken care of herself, always, while the wretched boy had the audacity to waltz around with his obviously ill-fitting clothes and hollow cheeks.

"Why can't you take care of yourself?"

The accusation burst out of her with a lot more heat than Petunia had intended.

For the first time she had ever witnessed, Severus' brows twitched in something like surprise instead of annoyance. "What?"

"You're way too thin! Lily always goes on about roasts here and cakes there, how come you look so emaciated?"

His scowl was back. "It's none of your business."

"Then stop strutting around in front of me!"

"I'm not - !" He took a deep breath to bring his voice back under control. "You would never understand. Stop trying to stick your nose in things that don't concern you."

Petunia crossed her arms. "Is this about the whole blood-purity thing?"

The shock washing over Severus was as visible as if he had written How could you know? on his forehead. His shoulders stiffened, his eyes widened and his jaw tensed.

"Lily told me." For a few seconds Petunia debated if she really wanted to give him the satisfaction before she forced another sentence from her lips: "She's worried."

Instead of the gratification Petunia had expected Severus would display upon hearing about Lily's concern for him, she was surprised to see - anger.

"It's because she doesn't understand! None of you ever will, especially not a muggle like you! You're the problem, you've always been the problem, the whole lot of you! If my mother -"

He actually bit his lip to stop his words and Petunia felt a slight shiver of apprehension when she saw how hard his teeth were mashing the bloodless flesh.

"If your mother, what?" She had meant the question to be scathing, but instead it came out quiet.

If before his eyes had been hollow, now they were filled with toxic tar, so viscous Petunia almost expected to see it dripping from his eyes in black tears. His next words were as quiet as hers, but it was more a hiss than actual human speech. "If my mother had never let herself be touched by muggle scum, by filth like you or my father, I wouldn't be forced to live like this!"

Petunia's chest heated with anger, but before she had any chance to retort, he whirled around and stalked off the way he came from, his lanky silhouette morbid against the backdrop of sun-kissed fields and a merry blue sky.

Petunia wanted to hurl an insult after him in reciprocity for calling her 'filth', something that would blister in his ears whenever he clapped eyes on his mother or father. She wanted to stab at the dripping wound he himself had exposed in a quest to get back at him. But when the image of his stick-thin arms swinging wildly, the tattered coat flapping around his bony elbows like a funeral shroud, hit her eyes, something else entirely escaped her throat.

"For God's sake, eat something!"

Ivy wound through Petunia's fingers like molten quicksilver, a strangely childish and at the same time undoubtedly elegant display with her undulating, glittering scales catching the magical sunlight overhead.

"She must have missed you," Eugene said and Petunia tried to hide her glee at the thought, though a pleased flush on her cheeks gave her away.

"No surprise my father offered for you to come by. He must have seen how attached she is. He can always judge beasts much more accurately than people."

Petunia glanced up at the mention of his father, now recognizing it for the touchy subject it was, but Eugene's face was relaxed. He was sitting opposite her in the softly rustling grass, leaned back on his hands, his legs crossed haphazardly. His clothes were once again ones that should really see the inside of a bin or at least an attentive hand at sewing, but until now Petunia had managed to stop herself from commenting on it. Soft golden light was playing along his ruffled hair and relaxed mouth which quirked into a small grin upon meeting Petunia's inquisitive gaze.

Ivy slowed her circuits and curled in Petunia's palm, butting the distracted girl's fingers with her snout. A faint chirp sounded and then Petunia heard her own voice admit: "I missed her, too."

Her eyes were still on Eugene though and for just a second she feared she had misspoken and said I missed you, too.

But he didn't scoff or laugh or recoil, so Petunia refilled her tight lungs and assured herself that she hadn't allowed herself that horrid slip of tongue. Eugene's eyes were drawing her in though, like molten chocolate, so she quickly looked back at Ivy, saying the first thing that popped into her head: "I think she's falling asleep."

"No wonder, she's been trying to tie herself into a knot between your fingers for almost an hour now. I'm honestly surprised she managed to keep it up for so long."

"She has a lot of energy."

"Certainly more than her siblings." Eugene nodded at the big nest behind Petunia which contained a number of curled up, slumbering Occamies. Tall stalks of bamboo surrounded them and Petunia once more marvelled at the idea of being in a cellar (Eugene had told her that they were underground) while everything around made her believe she was outside - fresh air, a warm breeze and trickling sunlight.

Ivy had laid her head between folds of her own body, her wings tucked in tight and Petunia carefully stood up and placed her in a free space between her siblings. Gazing at the soft tufts of feathers intermingled with scales she felt a strange drop in her stomach, a yearning that was unreasonable but no less strong for its futility. She wanted to pack Ivy into a bag and take her back home, to her room - to Lily and her parents and whoever else might discover her in time.

And then what? The ministry, she thought and the drop in her stomach turned into a nauseating lurch.

"Why didn't your father have me arrested?"

Turning back to him she saw that Eugene had stood up as well, blinking at her questioningly.

"Arrested for keeping Ivy," Petunia clarified.

He shrugged. "I'm sure he would have done something if he felt that you mistreated her. But as it stands, he didn't have any reason."

No reason? "It's illegal."

"As are a hundred other things, which doesn't mean they aren't fun." He grinned. "My father pretty much only follows his own interpretation of right and wrong. And you taking care of an abandoned beast, raising it and protecting it, would never be considered something worth punishment in his book."

"Not everyone thinks so."

Eugene didn't appear concerned. "There are all sorts - rule-followers, rule-breakers, rule-makers, you can't please everyone."

Petunia didn't want to please them, she wanted to be left alone by them. She didn't want to end up in a nightmarish, magical prison with no hope or escape. But before she could say anything, Eugene already continued: "My Aunt Queenie is actually the biggest rule-breaker in the family. In her youth, she started an illegal courtship."

Now it was Petunia's turn to blink, her thoughts flitting from damp prison cells to romantic gossip. "Illegal?"

"Oh, yes." Eugene was obviously delighted by the topic, the relish in his voice underscored by the broad grin stretching his cheeks. "Highly illegal. Positively scandalous. A forbidden love worthy of the Great Arts."

Petunia smiled despite herself.

"The stage is set in America, decades ago - did I ever tell you my Mum is American? No? Well, now you know that not only is my parentage influential and famous, the other half is also very exotic and foreign, positively mysterious …" Eugene started walking leisurely and Petunia fell into step beside him while they slowly traspersed the fragrant forest. Leaf shadows dappled across their skin and the wind toyed with Eugene's unruly locks and fluttered the seam of Petunia's best summer dress. Petunia relaxed and simply listened as Eugene spun the tale of a poor bakerman and a pretty witch, his aunt, who met among adventure and chaos and fell in love instantly.

"But you see it wasn't as easy as all that - because there were laws in place that forbid them to love each other, to even speak honestly to each other, let alone consider marriage or other commitments. Because she was a witch and he was anything but."
Petunia felt her steps falter. The soft smile on her face extinguished as if a cold wind had cut through the tranquillity around her, biting and chilling her to the bone. "It's forbidden for -" me and you "- magical and non-magical people to …?"

"Not in Britain, and not today. But back then in America they had something called Rappaport's Law, which promised swift and harsh penalties for anyone fraternising with what they considered the enemy. But my aunt was never one easily brow-beat. She was ready to risk it all, from her magic to her status, to be with her one true love. But my Uncle Jacob - he feared for her well-being. He couldn't stand to be the cause of her misery and intended to leave her for her own good, and that's when their story takes a dark turn."

Petunia allowed herself to be lulled back into Eugene's tale, of risky spells and a sweeping revolution in the Wizarding World that his aunt joined with the sole purpose of toppling Rappaport's Law, bringing magic out in the open and finally being allowed to marry who she wanted to. Of failure and reconciliation and a clandestine, hidden wedding ceremony ('very scandalous') where a lookout had been posted in intervals to spot any officers who might have caught wind of the affair.

"The law was finally repealed eight years ago, and they couldn't even wait a day to hold the biggest wedding feast you can imagine. They invited friends, family and strangers from the street and the celebration lasted almost two days, with an assortment of my Uncle's cakes that seemed neverending. I never saw my father as drunk as when he was supposed to give his best man speech and I think it was the only thing that enabled him to even give a toast," Eugene finished his story with a nostalgic sigh.

Petunia blinked, her thoughts whirring, part of her mind still sucked into the images Eugene's voice had woven around them, while another part was busy frothing over the fact that just eight years ago it had been forbidden for them to be friends … or anything more. Maybe not here in Britain, but the fact remained that despite how close Petunia felt to him, how she enjoyed Eugene's ridiculous boasts and easy smiles, in the eyes of some people they should never be allowed to even meet. That what they had should be forbidden.

Just as it was forbidden for her to take care of Aspen or Ivy, she reminded herself. The Ministry, witches and wizards, didn't want someone like Petunia, a muggle, to get too close to their world, their wonders. They wanted to keep it for themselves and exclude anyone who wasn't born into it, as if it was a choice she had made, not something out of her hands …

"It's not fair."

If Eugene was surprised at the sudden vehemence in her voice, he didn't show it. "No, it isn't. My aunt and uncle's relationship is one of the truest and happiest that I know. That they had to hide and struggle for so long is … utter bullshit."

Petunia looked up at his last words, surprised at the curse. He met her eyes, a mischievous twinkle hiding in the dark depths of his. "But I think I must have inherited some of my aunt's rebellious streak because …" He made a small pause to allow his typical, too-wide grin to unleash its full effect, "... I wouldn't let a stupid law stop me either."

Petunia blinked, stunned into silence by his words. Was Eugene … flirting with her?

Surely not, the calcified shell around her heart said, having accumulated over years of being compared to someone more lovely.

But as of late that protective shell had grown brittle, layer after layer chipped away with every one of Eugene's smiles, every time the wind tangled through her hair upon Aspen's back and Petunia felt powerful and free.

But never … pretty.

Petunia knew her own flaws quite well, though she never liked to acknowledge them. But no matter how much she might wish to, she couldn't change the fact that her eyes were too pale, her face too narrow, her lips too thin and her neck too long. Her hair might have a nice colour but it was brittle and wispy without any volume or shine, no matter how dedicated Petunia was in her care, unlike Lily's which always tumbled in effortless, brilliant waves down her back like roiling flames.

And that insecure, cautious part of herself that had steadily grown in silence and darkness, in fleeting thoughts before she fell asleep, in compliments grown-ups had rained on her sister but never on Petunia, had only one function: to protect her.

It had never allowed Petunia to consider the reasons why Eugene actually volunteered to spend his time with her. Maybe he truly liked their companionship, maybe he liked talking to someone who was eager to learn more about Magical Creatures or someone who wouldn't always mention his father.

But maybe he was simply too nice. Maybe he pitied her. Maybe it actually didn't mean anything to him.

It wasn't until now, standing underneath feathery sunlight and looking into warm, brown eyes that Petunia realised her armour had long failed her. Sometime between that first letter and Eugene opening up to her about his father, he had burrowed underneath her scales, digging his claws into the pink, vulnerable flesh beneath.

Because her heart was beating faster than ever before, clamouring against her ribs in its painful eagerness. Her head was light and hope, the most dangerous thing of all, pumped through her veins.

Maybe he is flirting … maybe he actually likes me.

Petunia wasn't even aware that she had stopped walking. Only when Eugene's gaze turned questioning did she suddenly realise that she hadn't answered, hadn't even reacted and just stared at him for who knows how long - a spike of adrenaline mixed with terror pierced through her, her fingers twitching and straightening in useless agitation.

She couldn't even clearly recall what Eugene had just said, what they had been talking about, only that it made her feel giddy and his tone had been teasing …

To her surprise, it was Eugene who continued talking, not waiting for her panicked thoughts to find any suitable response.

"Well, you'd have to teach me first, of course. When it comes to breaking the law, my record is still behind yours, Petals. First Aspen, then Ivy, not to speak of all the things you hopefully get up to with none the wiser."

"I do not get 'up to' anything," Petunia retorted hotly, her indignation overrunning her tangled insecurities on the surface. A secret part of her was glad to feel anything but those fluttering wings inside her stomach, using his words like a crutch to lean on. "I'll let you know that the only laws I have ever broken are those of wizards, and I'm beginning to doubt that they should apply to me in any case."

"Of course they shouldn't," Eugene quickly soothed, but Petunia wasn't fooled. She could still see the amused twinkle in his eyes. "Not to you, Petals. What mortals would dare try to reign you in?"

"Oh, do shut up."

"As you command, my Lady." But of course, he didn't. "Whoever ventures to hold you accountable will surely expire on the spot in a fit of shame upon realising who it is they were pestering with their inconsequential laws …"

"Enough," Petunia huffed and started walking again, not sure what she was actually fleeing from. Him or her lingering thoughts?

Of course he hadn't been flirting with her. It was just his mischievous nature rearing its head, something Petunia had actually always found exasperating in other people. But for whatever strange reason, Eugene was the exception.

Even now she didn't feel annoyed, only disappointed, the crack in her shell smarting and stinging.

Petunia continued on, trying to rein her thoughts back to what they had been talking about. "I simply meant that those are laws for wizards, and I'm not …"

And then her tongue froze, because she realised in a flash that she had never actually told Eugene before that she didn't have any magic. In her haste to forget about her stupid, pointless hope she had let slip another part of her that she had guarded just as carefully - before now.

She should have known that once there was even the slightest fissure, the whole structure would collapse, leaving her exposed and oozing weakness.

Petunia's mouth turned chalk-dry and her hands were clammy while she waited for Eugene's reaction, any kind of reaction. She knew that he must have long suspected her to be a muggle, but she had never actually confirmed it for him. Now that she had tripped up so inelegantly there was bound to be a realisation, a shock - something.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? But wizarding laws are very much preoccupied with muggles, it's almost funny."

Petunia couldn't reply, too flustered by his nonchalance. She was still expecting him to shake his head in pity the next second: 'A muggle? How unfortunate, Petals.'.

Instead he slowed his steps. "Come to think of it, I can barely remember a law that doesn't refer to the importance of secrecy -"

"You don't mind?"

He blinked. "Well no, it just means I have to remember to disillusion my Hippogriff before taking him for a flight."

"Not that!" Petunia swallowed. "That I'm … not like you."

His steps slowed to a stop and there was a faint frown on his face. "Did you think I would?"

Yes. "No."

Petunia had paused as well, and they were facing each other for a few seconds in silence. The shadows of the dancing leaves above them were painted across his face, caressing the valleys and plains of it like long, dark fingers.

Eugene was the one to break their stillness. His tone was light but his words felt heavy. "I don't mind. I don't care. Honestly, what difference does it make? Do you dislike me for being a wizard?"

"No," Petunia quickly protested, and upon saying it realised that it was nothing but the truth. While she envied and begrudged Lily her magic and loathed the wretched boy for his implied superiority with a vengeance, she had never really judged Eugene for being a wizard.

It's strange. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, slowing and tangling her thoughts. Why hadn't she?

Why is he stepping closer?

Eugene's hand softly grasped hers, his skin warm and dry and Petunia could feel small calluses between his fingers tickling her own. Her overwrought brain tried to decide if they were worthy wizard-calluses, from holding a wand, or something more mundane everyone else could easily acquire by holding a pen too often.

And then Eugene smiled at her and Petunia's chattering mind finally, mercifully blanked.

"I don't dislike you, either, Petals."

Petunia's breath got caught somewhere between her chest and lips. Eugene tucked on her hand, slowly drawing her closer until she could smell him, a faint green and crisp aroma from lying on the grass and something undefinable underneath that was solely him. Salty and alive.

There were no more thoughts in her head, no more words she wanted to say. Maybe she should have rejoiced that he was - however indirectly - telling Petunia that he liked her.

But all she could concentrate on was the spark in his eyes, turning them from something mundane into a labyrinth of shades and feelings Petunia could get lost in. The slight uptick on the corner of his mouth, pulling his lips just barely askew.

And then those lips were brushing across hers, careful but insistent. Petunia felt his breath mingling with hers, the warmth radiating from his skin, the pulse at his wrist.

And her last barriers, erected to keep others away, crumbled to dust around her.

Hope it was worth the wait ^^ Thanks for all the lovely comments and support this story receives from you guys, you're making me blush!