March 1975

Blueish afternoon light was dusting Petunia's school desk, highlighting all the slight scratches and nicks in stark relief while almost obscuring the little notes other students had carved into its surface.

Petunia paid them no mind, not someone who would ever follow suit and leave such a visible mark of her presence in a place she felt no real connection to. Usually she liked to sit in the front, where she wouldn't be distracted by other students, but this time she had taken the opportunity to settle towards the back, hoping to read the Quibbler without catching her teacher's notice.

Not that she really had to worry, Mrs Fairweather was very occupied with the usual sermon that she had been preaching for the last few weeks. You'll all be graduating soon, this is your last chance to make something of yourselves, think about your futures and what you need to do to become accomplished …

Petunia clutched the illegal gains in her lap, the colourful magazine cover clashing harshly with the dull fabric of her school skirt. She had yet to figure out if Xenophilius actually followed any kind of schedule for his publishing, as this wasn't the first time his little grey owl, looking like a dust bunny with wings, had ambushed her at school. (Not like Krampus, who had in the past either dutifully waited for her at home or arrived before Petunia left the house.)

But until now it had turned out fine. No teacher would ever suspect rule-abiding Petunia Evans of doing something bad, so getting permission to excuse herself and catch the owl to quickly stuff a few pence into the bag tied to its foot and grab the Quibbler had worked out just fine. Petunia would just like to be able to anticipate it.

Maybe Xenophilius simply followed his own schedule and whims, writing whenever he found something he wanted to write about.

This time the front page was covered with some kind of love scandal, a kissing couple sketched in exaggerated detail under the sparkling title 'Alluring Danger: Veela spotted in inner circle of French Ministry! Lock up your monsieurs !'

The woman was drawn with long, flowing hair and a wasp-waist that would surely not be feasible in reality while the man was barely visible safe for shiny black shoes and a bob hat.

Petunia glanced up at Mrs Fairweather ("You will all soon have to make an important decision, don't waste these last few months of your education …") before slowly opening the unobtrusive black notebook she had taken to carrying around. Finding a free space Petunia quickly scrawled a note: Veela? Creature or type of witch? .

Petunia had grown to treat the Quibbler almost like a reference literature, always reading it with one hand poised above her notebook, ready to jot down whatever caught her interest. By now she had pages worth of observations.

Once or twice she had been tempted to stuff a small letter into the coin-bag along with her payment, just a few questions that Xenophilius would surely be able to answer. But whenever she opened the drawer with her letter paper, the ones she had bought months ago with a different recipient in mind, she just couldn't do it. It would almost feel like … betrayal.

You're ridiculous , she scolded herself. It's just a letter.

Still, she had never done it. But maybe she also didn't need it; the Quibbler itself was a font of information if someone just knew how to look for it. Petunia learned more about wizards, the war, politics and creatures than she had in all the years before, simply by paying attention.

Xenophilius' articles were always loud, vibrant, bursting with strangeness to the point that Peutnia would have found it ridiculous if it hadn't been about the most ridiculous thing anyway: magic.

And underneath the brilliant shades of wacky headlines she would always be able to find a hidden darkness. Like an oil spill, with a reflective, iridescent surface hiding noxious sludge below.

It didn't take Petunia long to spot it this time. An advert without any illustration or elaborate border to draw attention, simply the phrase " Vanishing Cabinets! Grab one before THEY grab you! " printed in thick letters.

A simple explanation was found underneath, followed by a short list of models and corresponding prices.

'When Death Eaters come knocking, disappear with one of our premium Vanishing Cabinets! Tested against all manner of dark spells, it withstands curses and transports you (mostly) intact.'

Petunia felt her finger twitch, a strange instinct to quickly flip the page. Instead she forced herself to read it again and again, wanting to imprint the words on her brain.

Death Eaters. What a strange name, almost childish, mundane, too simply for what it truly embodied. But it hadn't taken Petunia long to figure out what it really stood for.

Extremist. Murderers. And somehow now the title didn't sound as ridiculous, each letter soaked in blood.

Taking a shuddering breath, Petunia blinked her eyes clear and flicked back to the bright cover, hoping something light-hearted and absurd would help to banish the taste of fear from her mind.

Each time she stumbled upon a trace of the war, she would feel a renewed sting of betrayal, beneath the terror and helplessness. The more she learned, the less she could understand Lily's and Eugene's decision to keep this from her.

If ignorance had kept her safe, Petunia might be more forgiving. But all she read convinced her of the contrary: the first pawns to fall appeared to be muggles, helpless and clueless, whole towns being raided and then disguised as 'sinkholes' or 'gas explosions'. The violence of the wizarding world wasn't only sloshing over into the normal one, but drenching it in one huge spill, leaving wreckage behind.

And if Petunia hadn't figuratively tripped over the war, she would be none the wiser.

Petunia didn't hold any illusions that she would stand a chance against a hostile wizard, knowledge of what he intended to do or not. But nonetheless, she was sure it was better to know. At least she wouldn't be caught completely unaware, at least she would be able to see the danger for what it was if it came upon her.

At least she wouldn't die without ever knowing why.

And all these realisations in turn made it even harder for her to emphasise with Eugene. Sometimes, late at night, alone with her bitter thoughts, she wondered if that's all she ever was to him: someone easy to pass the time with, but nobody he would be able to trust with his fears and worries, no one he could rely on to hold him up. Did Eugene simply want to play-pretend with her among the wonders of the magical creatures, and then when she was gone return to the daily drudge of reality, a reality he didn't see her taking part in?

Because you don't belong , her bitterness would whisper late at night. You never belonged with them, not with Eugene, not with Lily …

Other times, when the rising sunlight glinted off the dragon scale displayed in her room or when Petunia dreamt of hoarse laughter and warm hands, she wondered if she was maybe too harsh. She had always been an unforgiving person, holding grudges long past what would be considered normal. Maybe she blamed Eugene too much for what had been simply him trying to keep all the grime and fear away from her.

In the past, whenever someone had crossed her, Petunia would nurse that grudge in her chest, nurturing it by thinking about it anew whenever her ire began to waver. Petunia had always found it very difficult to forgive and forget, and she had never seen the merit in that sentiment before.

And now … her finger trailed over the small caricature of the kissing couple which dominated the cover in front of her. Memories nipped at the edges of her brain like unruly puppies, sensations of dry lips pressing against her own, the smell of earth and salt, the small calluses on broad palms …

Maybe right now she was doing the same to Eugene, punishing herself and him at the same time for a failing that had gained significance with the time and thoughts she fed it with.

Petunia sighed to herself. Actually, the matter was very simple.

She missed him.

She missed having a friend, a confidant and she missed the intimacy, the safe touches, the excited shiver that made her heart tremble with joy. She missed his kisses and his laugh and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief whenever he made his stupid comments.

She missed how she felt with him. Witty and pretty and fun to be with.

Why couldn't she simply forgive him? Why couldn't she just floo over or send a letter and return everything to the way it was supposed to be?

Because deep down, Petunia wasn't sure if Eugene even wanted to see her after all this time, after they had parted under such strained circumstances. And what would she even say? Thank you for giving me time, now let's act like nothing ever happened?

Petunia's gaze wandered from the kissing couple to the date stamped at the top of the magazine, a small zing running through her when she realised what day it was. March 28th, 1975.

Lily would be coming home from Hogwarts today for her Easter holidays.

Eugene might be at the station today.

Aspen was waiting underneath his favourite wisteria tree for Petunia after school, ringlets of soft flowers framing him as if someone had put a garland around Death's personal steed. The purple blossoms contrasted with his milky, pupil-less eyes and the sharp teeth sitting in black gums, revealed by his too-short lips.

This spring he'd finally grown too big for the small garden shed and so spent most of his time freely in the woods, only coming out when Petunia went for a flight with him - and every afternoon to accompany her home.

In Petunia's opinion Aspen had grown quite handsome for an undead horse, his neck long and curved elegantly, his split hooves leaving crisp indents behind and his flimsy mane braided to the best of her ability. She patted his smooth flank as thanks for always waiting for her before slinging her bag across his back, assured that he wouldn't mind the weight.

The walk home was quiet, only disturbed by the rustling wind and cawing birds. Once or twice Aspen huffed and Petunia would stroke his nose but wasn't enticed into vomiting up all her worries. Sometimes she needed to verbalise them to work through them, but today they were too close to the surface, tangling around her vocal cords like binding ropes.

Aspen left her when they neared her house, disappearing back into the forest that had birthed him, his thin legs melding with the naked branches around him, his smooth hide just another shadow beneath the trees. Petunia shouldered her bag once more and walked towards her driveway, her thoughts drifting until she spotted her mother leaving the house, car keys in hand.

"Oh, Petunia! I didn't have the time to clean up the kitchen yet, be a darling and help me out, would you? I have to go pick up your sister."

Petunia stared at the small car as her mother unlocked it, as if its creaky interior held the answer to all her questions.

"I'll come too," she finally said, catching her mother's surprised gaze.

Petunia wasn't sure if this was the right decision, if it was what she truly wanted. If anything would even come out of it - there was quite a big possibility that she wouldn't even see Eugene, as she hadn't seen him many times before when they were at the station.

But at least now it was out of her hands. It was no longer her decision to make, but left up to something as fickle and mythical as fate.

And fate always either bestowed Petunia with a gift or pulled her down further.

When Petunia thought of the magical train station images of a teeming mass of people would be conjured, loud, animated, excited and scurrying like a small shoebox overfilled with mice. Everyone with somewhere to be, a destination in mind that was invisible to the eye, their thoughts already filled with magical castles or the embrace of their parents.

But, just as Diagon Alley had felt changed, so did the station. The faded bricks leading to a curved ceiling were the same, just like the red-lacquered train spitting smoke like a metallic dragon and the carts filled with luggage and animals remained unchanged.

What had changed were the people. Instead of conversing with each other in practised ease, the parents were tense, their eyes picking across the crowd in an almost desperate bid to spot their offspring as soon as possible. The children as well, instead of lingering with their friends and exchanging jokes and plans for the upcoming holiday, were quick to find refuge among the adults, almost looking relieved to leave the reminder of their school year behind - at least for the time being.

Instead of loud chaos, an oppressive fog hovered around every interaction, every furtive glance speaking of a barely leashed apprehension.

War , Petunia thought and wondered how she would have interpreted the scene if she had never come upon that little tidbit of information about the wizarding world.

Lily, as always, stood out from the crowd. She wasn't necessarily cheerful, but when Petunia spotted her sister, she couldn't help but notice the circle of friends that lingered around her, one island of calm in the steady stream of hastened steps. The students surrounding Lily looked reluctant to see her go, reluctant enough that they risked the spiked displeasure of their anxious guardians.

How does she do it? , Petunia wondered, not for the first time but maybe with less rancour than usual. Her envy felt less important compared to the other issues on her mind. But still she couldn't deny the small worming feeling of decided unhappiness upon the reality of Lily's magnetism.

Even now, simply dressed in her school uniform, her long fiery hair bundled in a careless braid and her face practically naked, just a smudge of dark on her usually fair lashes, she was drawing people in like a candle would moths, without any visible effort.

And where there was a candle there would be a dedicated shadow, desperate to bask in it but always banished towards the hidden corner, the darkness.

Petunia only noticed him for his stillness. The wretched boy hovered around Lily's group, not close enough to be considered part of it but lingering around the edges, long hair hiding his greedy eyes. If possible he was even more skeletal than usual, his uniform baggy on his tall frame, his cheekbones more pronounced for the hollows underneath them.

And Lily … Lily didn't acknowledge him. Maybe she'd grown so used to his sneaky presence, it didn't even register to her anymore. Maybe she didn't know how to include him where he clearly didn't belong.

Maybe she simply didn't want to.

Petunia dismissed that last thought. Lily was a bleeding heart - no matter the true nature of the wretched boy, she would always feel enough pity and compassion for him to try and make him happy, and in turn deepen his obsession.

"Lily!"

Petunia chanced a glance at her mother and noticed that the eager anticipation that had fueled her during the drive to London had been infected by the strained atmosphere all around them. The wrinkles in the corner of her eyes were more pronounced, her smile slipping, her voice just a tad too loud to be simply bright.

Lily's green eyes turned their way, first finding her calling mother then flicking to her silent older sister standing at her side. There was a second of confusion, before Lily smiled and waved, turning back to her friends to say final goodbyes.

"Severus is already here as well, that's good," her mother remarked, maybe to Petunia, maybe to herself.

Petunia's gaze was once more ensnared by the wretched boy, who followed behind Lily as she made her way to them, not quite at her side but closer than before. Lily turned to him and said something that was lost in the noise around them, but his spine straightened and his head lifted to look at her. Lily's face was open and bright, and Severus was drinking it in as if he finally had permission for something he'd been wanting to do for months. Looking at her. Talking to her. Almost as if he was receiving her benediction, a goddess bestowing the gift of her attention to her scurrying follower.

And for some reason Petunia felt slightly sick at the thought.

It was with a strange sense of chilling premonition as she watched Lily's eyes alight on someone to her right when she turned her face away from Severus, halting her motion mid-turn. Lily gave a quick wave in her mother's direction, in a sense of 'just another second' before darting towards another bundle of black robes, Severus lingering behind, forgotten.

And when Petunia saw who Lily had been so eager to talk to, her heart shrivelled in her chest.

No. Not like this.

His hair was shorter than Petunia had ever seen it, looking dark now that the sun-kissed tips were missing. He was turned away, checking a wrist-watch Petunia hadn't seen him wear before, drawing attention to the tan on his forearm and the sinuous muscles just beneath his skin. He was surrounded by a group of boys and girls she didn't know and couldn't bring herself to muster any attention for.

Her whole focus had narrowed on that small strip of space between her sister and the boy she had so hopelessly, foolishly wished to finally see again. For a second everything else faded into white noise. Her mother's impatiently tapping foot, the wretched boy's longing glance, the hurried steps all around her, echoing from the tall ceiling, the smell of too many bodies and scratchy smoke …

For a second there existed only the two of them.

And then time began spinning again, but it seemed to leave Petunia behind in a crystalised prison of inertia, unable to avert her eyes or take even a single step, forced to watch, mute and frozen.

Lily must have said something, because Eugene lifted his eyes and took in her bouncing red braid, her bright expression - and smiled.

No.

Petunia swallowed a noise that wanted to escape, something small and hurt, something only an injured animal should ever voice.

Lily's reciprocating smile was so pretty it lit up her whole face and Petunia wanted to turn away, to avert her eyes but it felt like she was standing on the road and watching an oncoming car, shocked into stillness despite the looming danger.

And just before that car crashed into her, Petunia startled awake when a pair of soft, brown eyes met her own, widening in surprise. She didn't know what had made Eugene turn his head, maybe Lily had actually mentioned her, maybe he had felt her piercing gaze despite the distance between them. All she knew that for a split, weightless second she allowed herself to revel in his attention, their eyes connected for heartbeat - and then she forced herself back to reality, once again feeling the stabbing of her nails against her palm, the burning in her sternum, and whirled around to hide the way her chest was left raw and bleeding.

She ignored her mother's startled "Petunia? Where are you going?", she ignored the shoulders bumping into her and the way her lips were trembling, her whole focus only on that strip of unremarkable wall that would lead back to the normal world, not a refuge but at least an escape. Phantom bricks enveloped her and from one blink to the next she stepped among a whole different type of chaos, a more mundane, casual sort. There was no strained atmosphere here, no silent fear, simply men in suits rushing to catch their trains, mothers trying to corral families, and the smattering of tourists forced to determine which platform they were supposed to wait at.

Petunia took a deep breath, revelling in the smell of smoke and something sharp that always accompanied structures with lots of metal, complemented by the chalk of the bricks, underlaid with all the aromas of living people, breaths, perfumes, sweat, nicotine and food.

And just when her heart had calmed, just when she wanted to take that second breath and centre herself further, she heard an achingly familiar voice behind her.

"Petals."

Her shutters came down, rusted and dented in places, her vulnerability peeking through the gaps, but it was all the protection Petunia could muster. It would have to be enough.

She turned around and, despite knowing what she would find, seeing Eugene so close that she could count his freckles if she wanted to was a shock to her system. He looked so familiar but at the same time so changed, his jaw slightly broader, coarse skin where he must have started shaving the growing fuzz, his hair shorter, his eyes not sparkling with mischief but deep and dark like a well with unknown depths. And Petunia wasn't sure what would surface.

She wasn't sure if she was ready to find out.

"Eugene."

There was a second of silence but when his lips parted, Petunia decided on an preemptive strike, a spike of white-hot panic forcing her words.

"I didn't know you and Lily were so close."

He blinked, and Petunia could almost see him redirecting his thoughts. "We're not. She just asked about a club assignment."

The club they both attended, every year, at their shared magical school, talking and smiling and Petunia none the wiser. Something burrowed beneath her armour, eating into her flesh like wriggling maggots, piercing her all over. Petunia rubbed her arms as though she could chase the insecurity away if only her strokes were firm enough.

Of course they weren't. "You do have a lot in common. Lily didn't tell me about the war either. She thought it would be useless - no sense in talking to the muggle about it."

Her words landed with the force she intended but Petunia received no satisfaction from watching Eugene's lips pale. His voice, though, was still soft. "You know that's not what it was."

"Do I?"

"It was never about usefulness. I only wanted to protect you, Petals, your peace of mind, your happiness. I wanted to share the good things with you and keep the ugly ones as far away as possible."

And how well that had worked out .

Eugene seemed to sense her unspoken words, his lips tugging up in something that wasn't a smile so much as a self-deprecation. "I should have done better."

"How long did you imagine that working?"

Because one thing that bothered Petunia was that she had dreamt of a shared future, where she would learn to cook Eugene's favourite recipes and he in turn would massage her feet when they sat on the couch together after a long day of tending magical creatures. And such a thing couldn't be built when one partner kept a secret with a clear expiration date, bound to come to light one day with all the devastation of something hidden too long, festering in silence and darkness.

"I don't know. Every time you left without having to fear if we would ever see each other again was a win. Every night I couldn't sleep but knew you were spared the nightmares, I wanted the next night to be the same. If possible I would have been happy to keep it to myself until the end of my days."

His face wavered and Petunia blinked the sheen from her eyes, biting her tongue so fiercely she could taste copper, forcing herself to focus on the physical pain instead of the imagined one. When she trusted her voice again she continued. "Why couldn't we have carried that fear together? Shared the nightmares? Did you think I'm too weak to stand it?" Did you think I'm useless too?

"I know you're strong, Petals. I never doubted it, not from the first time you stared me down in that bookstore as if you thought I wanted to rob you. But just because you can, doesn't mean you should have to live like that."

There was a knot in her throat and silence settled in the distance between them, just a few steps apart but almost as if there was a deep gulf separating them, gaping and aching.

Eugene hadn't apologised. He hadn't even said that he regretted it, quite the opposite. And despite that Petunia felt her resentment slowly leaking from her, as if she was having a wrecking fever and sweating the illness from every pore. It hurt and burned but by now she felt cleansed, better.

It made her confession easier. "Don't keep things from me, Eugene. I have to be able to trust you - and you should know that I would rather be afraid and together than blissfully ignorant."

Eugene was the first one to bridge the distance between them, one careful step at a time, as if he too sensed the danger of falling. "You say 'ignorant' the same way others say 'horseshit'."

Petunia felt her nose crinkle - and Eugene smiled, a real smile, too wide and showing all his teeth and always uniquely him.

"I missed you, Petals."

Petunia huffed, not yet ready to admit the same but appeased by his words nonetheless. Eugene's eyes had changed, still bottomless but lit with a spark of his usual mischievous nature, bedded in soft fondness.

"Ivy's become very peckish in your absence."

At that Petunia cleared her throat, glad for his offer of a different topic. But when she spoke she knew that her intent behind the words about her absence, his silence, the last letter she had sent, wouldn't be missed.

"I should have visited."

And that was as close as she would ever get to apologising and Eugene seemed to understand without needing to hear anything else, simply broadening his smile and allowing himself to settle so close to her that Petunia could breath in the heady scent of him, tinged with something just as unfamiliar as the haircut and the watch - dry, slightly bitter and with a distinct trace of nicotine. Did Eugene start smoking?

His fingers wound themselves between her own, strong and snug, unexpected but welcome. Petunia returned the slight pressure.

"We're leaving."

Petunia startled at the unexpected voice, turning around to find Severus hovering behind her like a grim reaper who forgot his scythe.

"Now," Severus added with an impressive glower, for once not aimed at her. Instead his glare was firmly directed at Eugene.

Of course , Petunia realised in some removed way, if she was resentful of Lily talking to Eugene then the wretched boy would be as well, just for opposite reasons .

The next realisation followed swiftly - where the wretched boy wandered, Lily couldn't be too far off and trailing her was their mother, a hectic flush on her cheeks. When Carol Evans spotted Petunia she frowned severely, tugging her purse further up her shoulder in small, sharp motions. "There you are! Why did you run off like that? And who is this?"

"Gene, you still haven't told me what you're going to do for the assignment," Lily scolded playfully, almost at the same time, redirecting her mother's gaze. Petunia could almost see her mother come alive with interest. "A friend of yours, Lily?"

"We're part of the same club in school, Mum."

"Oh, how nice!" Their mother beamed and then her eyes fell on Eugene's hand which was still holding Petunia's, a small furrow of confusion knitting between her brows. "Well, I'm certain you'd like to catch up, but we really have to go, my parking will run out - Gene, you can come visit … the girls whenever you like. Just let us know beforehand, we're always happy to get to know Lily's friends."

Lily's friends … For one ludicrous second she wanted to yell at her Mum, wanted to let everyone know that Eugene wasn't Lily's anything , he finally belonged to her again and no-one else (or did he?). Her emotions were still in turmoil, switching too quickly from one spot to the next and Petunia was left behind chasing after them, flickering from relief to dread to indignation without having a chance to fully express either.

So she simply stayed quiet and glanced at Lily, surprised when her sister actually met her gaze with a playful eye-roll. "He'll make sure, Mum."

"Of course." Eugene's voice was calm and polite but there was a spark of playfulness underneath his tone. Petunia felt her fingers clench for a second and her cheeks flush, because she had a sudden idea where it might originate from.

If Mum only knew that he already came by once and during that visit pressed Petunia into their old couch …

A strange mixture of excitement and embarrassment tickled over the rest of her fluctuating emotions, prickling and fizzing enough to stay close to the surface of her thoughts.

If her Mum only knew … she would definitely not confuse him for one of 'Lily's friends'.

She allowed herself to think of the future for a second, a future that now included Eugene as her dreams had in the past. Maybe she would actually take a chance and officially invite Eugene over to meet her parents, and more importantly, Aspen. They would talk again, but instead of only skin-deep topics like in the past they would share what was really going on.

Petunia felt better in this second than she had in a long time, his palm brushing against hers, their words still lingering between them. The resentment and doubts had ebbed and Petunia was longing to reclaim the easy familiarity between them.

But this was obviously not the moment.

Her Mum's eyes once more flitted towards their clasped hands before she quickly looked away as if she couldn't - or didn't want to - process the implications. "But now we really have to get moving, children, there's a long drive ahead of us."

There was a round of goodbyes (Lily's too enthusiastic for Petunia's taste, the wretched boy's barely a grumble, her mother's polite and inviting) before Eugene looked at Petunia, their stares locking. Petunia was reluctant to let go.

The gazes of their company were weighing heavily on Petunia, a strange needling feeling running down her arms. In the end the only thing she could bring herself to whisper was: "Tell Ivy I'll come see her."

Eugene grinned and, oh, how she had missed that grin, that familiar grin that stretched his lips to the very corners of his cheeks. It shouldn't look as good as it did, and she couldn't imagine anyone but Eugene pulling it off. "She'll look forward to it."

Their fingers untangled and Petunia vividly felt the loss of his strength, the buffer of his flesh protecting her own from her nails. She felt almost untethered for one ridiculous second before her mother's call spurred her into motion.

While she made her way to the exit, Eugene's eyes would always be waiting to meet hers whenever she turned her head, re-establishing that connection that she had almost thought she lost.

And how grateful she was in this instance to be proved wrong.

Petunia found herself emotionally exhausted on the drive back, despite not really having done much. The faded upholstery of the uncomfortable car seat wanted to swallow her, every bump of the road akin to nursery rocking, the springs underneath her creaking in tune. Her interaction with Eugene had drained her emotional reserves, leaving only a breathing husk behind. She had gone from bitter and angry to relieved in too short of a time and it was as if her mind struggled to keep up.

Now it demanded a break, so Petunia found her focus on the wretched boy sitting next to her, bony shoulders curved as if to protect his body from touching anything around him.

Last year, when she had last seen him, Petunia had found herself enquiring with the school nurse. Not with any true purpose but simply a chance encounter that had evolved before she had thought it through.

And now she was compiling a mental list while staring at the boy.

Brittle hair, dry, inelastic skin, prominent bones. Yes .

Stunted growth, swollen belly or face. No .

Fatigued, irritable and apathetic. Always .

Petunia's focus lingered on the bags underneath his eyes, blood vessels showing through skin that looked too thin, almost see-through just like overstretched dough.

Then there was an almost inaudible hiss. "Stop staring at me."

Petunia blinked the haze of her contemplations away to transform her simple look into a glare. "I'm not."

His black eyes, framed by the same bluish bruises she had just been appraising, glared back. "You are."

"Am not."

"Are so."

"What would I even be looking at?" Petunia exhaled heavily through her nose, a snort she quickly deemed unlady-like and wished she could take back.

The wretched boy showed his teeth, like a rabid animal and Petunia did her best to not roll her eyes.

For a second her eyes lingered on his gums, almost bloodless, the colour of washed-up earthworms curling around his crooked teeth.

It didn't look healthy. "Have you been eating?"

The wretched boy blinked, his lips lowering. For a second there was silence between them, only filled by the low growl of the motor and the cheerful chattering of Lily and her mother coming from the front seat, something about homework.

The moment was broken when the wretched boy looked away, his eyes flitting towards the window at his side, tracing the residue of dusty rain-splotches painting the glass. "Mind your own business."

Petunia lifted her chin haughtily. "Whatever."

They didn't speak again for the rest of the drive but nonetheless, Petunia didn't feel as if her question had been left unanswered.

After all, the look in his eyes had said it all.

The bed bounced when Lily threw herself on it, her braid flicking through the air like a red tongue.

"I knew it!"

Frankly, Petunia was a bit surprised at the ease with which Lily moved in their shared space, a freshwater fish returning to the small pond of her spawn from the adventure of streaming rivers and falls the rest of the year. The strain that had lingered between them before Lily had left for Hogwarts, birthed by Petunia's realisation of the war, seemed buried. Lily had always been much better at laying grudges to rest, forgetting unhappiness as if she simply couldn't agree with the concept.

There had been no tearful talk of forgiveness, no shouted resentment, simply falling into her childhood bed with worries left in the season they cropped up, not harvested and carried along for months on end.

Not like Petunia.

"Knew what?" Petunia replied as nonchalantly as possible and tried to decide on her own settling. At the desk, sorting her school bag? On her own bed but without any jumping and a straight spine?

How come Lily appeared much more at home than Petunia, who was the one that actually inhabited this room year-round?

"That the two of you are going out! Oh, Dorcas will eat her words!"

All contemplations of proper seating were forgotten in an instance. "What?"

"You and Gene! Come on, Tuney, you were so obvious. And he's not much better - he was so moody in school, everyone noticed, it's so unlike him!"

"Moody?"

"Yes, moody, moping, however you want to put it - Gene's usually real cheerful and friendly, getting along with everyone, even Slyhterins, but the last few months he was like a changed person, curt and silent, and we started wondering why. And I told Dorcas it must be something to do with you, that the two of you are going out and something must have happened! She didn't believe me, but now …"

"You're talking about -" me, us, him "-Eugene with your friends?"

"Well, yes, he's kinda famous so everyone talks about him, you know, because of his Dad, but also because he's pretty popular, good-looking and nice and all. There'll be quite a few broken hearts thanks to you, Tuney!" Lily giggled as if this news should somehow make Petunia happy, and maybe it would have, out of gleeful spite, if her relationship with Eugene hadn't been so wobbly the last few months.

"Popular?"

Lily shrugged, rolling over on the bed so she could look at Petunia who still stood aimlessly next to the door. "Hmm, he has that whole 'gentle older friend of my brother' thing down pat and this is his last year, so I guess a lot of girls were hoping to take their chance and confess before he's graduating."

Something must have shown on Petunia's face because Lily quickly tacked on: "I don't think anyone actually succeeded, with the mood he was in - and after all, he has you, right?"

Petunia wished she could nod, flip her flimsy hair and declare with confidence that yes, Eugene was with her. But the reality was that until today they hadn't spoken since that cursed Quidditch game, they hadn't even exchanged letters. And no matter that she could still feel his warmth lingering on her fingers, they hadn't talked about everything that had happened in between.

"What are you doing?" Lily sat up when Petunia marched towards her desk with determined strides, like a soldier striding into battle.

"Writing a letter."

She'd rather visit Ivy sooner than later.

Thank you for your patience!