Part 2 of the Quidditch World cup, I hope you'll enjoy! Thanks for all the comments, follows and all those that simply read in silent happiness - I love all of you!

When the tension flipped from enthusiasm to terror, it took Petunia long minutes to even notice.

She could hardly be blamed for this, because in fact the screams barely changed in pitch or intensity, neither did the motions of those around her. The wooden seat underneath her best skirts had been trembling ever since the game had gotten heated and infected the audience with a fever-pitched intensity, causing them to stamp and jump and lean dangerously far forward, dangling their waving arms and heads above the steep drop. The noise was deafening, slurs and encouragement mixed together to create a barrier of sound that was only barely overshadowed by the announcer who was doing his best to keep up with the rapid-paced players in the air, a venture Petunia had long given up on.

And then something caused the hair to rise on her pale arms, something that made her tense and her fingers grasp for Eugene, who had been cheering alongside Bilius.

He looked at where she was sitting, stiff and with a pinched expression and concern slowly leeched the wide grin from his face. "Petals? Are you not feeling well?"

She shook her head, looking around, trying to find the reason for that niggling seed of fear embedded deep inside her gut, spreading its roots deeper into her flesh with every passing second. It was the same sense of unease that had been festering ever since she spotted the black-robed wizards, Auror as they were apparently called, ever since she had silently listened to Bilius' disparaging comments. The magical mascots had been a distraction, had entranced her and spun around her like a spiderweb, but now the fine threats were stretched and revealed for the flimsy security net they were.

Something was wrong.

Eugene must have felt it as well or at least picked up on her worry, because he stood up and looked around, Petunia following his example. And just when she couldn't see anything, just when she wanted to convince herself that she must have been mistaken, her ears finally picked up on the different nuances of the sounds around her.

The announcer was silent and the loud voices around her were no longer excited - but terrified.

Petunia's heart stuttered for one breath, her eyes meeting Eugene's brown ones in the second breath and then everything fell apart. Ear-shattering shrieks and a stampede of people that pressed around them, jostling and hitting and almost tearing Petunia down if it weren't for Eugene's bruising grip on her arm, tugging her close and trying to follow the stream instead of swimming against it. She had lost sight of Bilius' red mop in the crowd and didn't have the inclination or even ability to look for him in the whirling swarm of shoulders, hats and hair all around her.

And then she heard it; creaking and splintering sounds, almost hidden beneath the cacophony around them, sending her stomach plummeting and roiling.

The stupid, flimsy tower , she thought and then something sagged beneath her with a loud crack, her balance lost and her arm smarting where Eugene pulled her closer.

The rush of people had overbalanced the structure to the extreme, causing the strained wood to fracture and give all around them. Petunia didn't know how long they had until it completely collapsed or what they could do to stop it, all she knew was that she had to get down , had to get away from this dangerous, badly constructed stand …

Another crack and this time Petunia stumbled so close to the edge she could look down to the ground far below, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush of panic and fear.

And then she blinked, and just for a second she saw something that infused a drop of calm into the churning sea of her thoughts, that allowed her a second glance at what she was seeing.

Green vines. Crawling and climbing over the protesting wood, weaving a vivid tapestry that tied it all together, held it tight when the wood wanted to give way. And down below on the ground, the Satyrs, flutes and harps raised while they played a song that was lost in the screams all around her. But the grapevines grew regardless, unfurling and thickening visible to the naked eye.

And then she was tugged back from the edge, her cheek colliding with Eugene's heaving chest while he pulled her closer and forward, fighting a way through the pushing limbs around them and terror and urgency swallowed her up once more.

The next minutes were a kaleidoscope of wide-eyed faces, bruising kicks and whimpering, loud voices, names called through the crowd and then Petunia's feet were on solid ground, the short grass teasing and tickling her ankles.

And she was alone.

"Eugene? Eugene! "

But no matter how often she called, her voice was swallowed by others doing the same and she couldn't spot a head of sunshine curls anywhere in the teeming mass around her.

Eugene, where are you? I need you, I'm scared, don't leave me alone, I don't know what's happening …

The crowd carried her along, away from the stadium and creaking towers, towards the tents and fields beyond and this time Petunia didn't even feel it when she passed the barrier. No matter how much she stretched her neck, how loud she called, she didn't see him, she couldn't find him anywhere …

Sharp pain made her flinch and hobble the next few steps, the man who had trampled her foot already gone in the chaos, her broken toe the only witness to his path.

But bizarrely enough the pain had cleared her head, allowing her a second to collect her thoughts and really think instead of mindlessly run and scream.

The can - she had to get to that stupid, red can that had transported them into this nightmare in the first place.

An unnerving cackling sounded behind her, cutting through the noise like a swarm of piranhas through bloody water, and Petunia started running, ignoring the pulsing heat in her tormented foot with each step.

Run, run, just run and get to the can, don't look behind …

But of course she did. And what she saw sucked the burning breath from her lungs, leaving her choked and frozen.

A gigantic creature. Walking upright on legs as big as tree trunks, a heavy brow shadowing a horrifyingly human visage with a mouth as long as Petunia was tall and a bulbous nose.

It … He was even wearing clothes, the strange garments of hide and fur illuminated by flashes of colourful lights (spells, Petunia realised, he was being pelted with spells), leaving his arms and legs naked but no less vulnerable. When he used a big hand to topple one of the already damaged stands, just as tall as he was, he wasn't deterred by the black-robed figures running towards him, like ants towards a fresh cadaver.

An echoing boom rattled her ears when the tower collapsed, the ground vibrating as if in sympathy and the small shock it sent through her injured toe was once more enough to startle Petunia into movement, as if she'd been zinged by a cattle-prod.

Whatever that is, it's dangerous, she had to get away …

Where's Eugene? Where's the can? How could Petunia find it in this churning mass, illuminated by flashing spells and twilight?

And then just when she glimpsed that stretch of longer grass on the hill she had tumbled down on hours ago, fighting her nausea (and how she wished to go back and content herself with those easier worries), her toe sent a vengeful spike of pain up her leg, cramping her calf and she tripped.

Only to roll over and find herself staring at a pair of iron boots, flecked with rust and something darker.

Before she could think better of it, her face lifted, finding bulbous, blood-shot eyes staring at her from a gaunt face framed by coarse strands of sparse hair - and topped by a red cap.

No, no, no …

"P-please," Petunia whispered, but she could see no mercy in the creature's eyes, only sadistic glee.

Of course, a bitter part inside her sighed. Why would the redcap show mercy to someone who had watched them in condescending amusement, why wouldn't it enjoy her suffering when it was so openly presented, so easy to take advantage off?

But Petunia wasn't used to cowering, when she was afraid she either fled or attacked, never showing her neck or bowing down. And right now her body was teeming with fear, with adrenaline, with hysteria, like a powder keg just waiting for that one spark to set it off, her muscles tensing and her eyes burning.

The creature leered at her, its pike swinging lazily through the air, the pointed end dripping with something that made Petunia suddenly glad for the darkness around them. And then it tittered, a hair-raising sound.

"It's the wizards I want," it said in its strange, rasping voice, and Petunia felt her blood turn sluggish with imagined ice. Before she had any time to wonder at its words (how did it know?), the redcap turned, its iron boots clinking as it disappeared into the darkness, the sound swallowed by the cacophony around her.

And then the encounter was banished from her mind when the earth shuddered once more, screams and a deep roar piercing her ears, forcing her to her smarting feet. Her toe was throbbing and pulsing now, no longer the sharp pain that had kept her going, but numb and grinding against her bones.

She could see figures all around her, striding through the fog, some running, some hobbling, but all of them sending a spike of panic through Petunia's chest. She didn't belong here, she didn't belong with them, she would find no help anywhere, she was lost and alone …

Ignoring the pulsing pain in her toe, she ran. Maybe those figures were others like her, fleeing, maybe those were the Aurors, here to protect, but she fled nonetheless, because some instinct was telling her that she wouldn't be safe with anyone but Eugene. These wizards didn't know her, they wouldn't care about her, she was just a muggle in their eyes, powerless, worthless, weak …

She heard the eerie laugh of the redcap behind her but didn't turn around, her mind whirring, trying to blink away her fear and concentrate enough to find that stupid can, find anything in this red-tinged darkness -

And then she suddenly heard her name, the name only one person ever used and when she whirled around she saw him . Covered in dirt with a rip down his shirt that almost transformed it into a vest, but no blood. No blood .

He was clasping his wand with pale fingers and deep down, overshadowed by relief and elation, Petunia wondered when he had gone to get it.

Arms closed around her, the smell of soot and sweat nothing she ever thought she would inhale so greedily until now. Eugene .

After that everything turned hazy. It was as if her mind had just needed to look at him to calm, to allow itself to rest after the highly alerted stage it had been, and their run across the field was almost surreal in the peace Petunia felt. She wasn't even surprised when Eugene led them to the can she had been so desperately searching for with sure steps and when she touched the cool aluminium and everything around her started to swim together she only sighed in relief.

There would be a time for tears and anger and breaking down but for now, they had made it.

Somehow, they had made it.

Petunia cradled the cup in her hands, letting the tea warm her fingers through the barrier of porcelain. Eugene had given Petunia 'her' cup, the one with only one small chip at the edge and delicate forget-me-nots painted across its smooth surface.

The familiar sight gave her no comfort at the moment.

"War?"

Eugene remained silent. Maybe because he had already repeated it two times. Maybe because he didn't know what to say.

Maybe because there was nothing more to say.

Petunia's skin was twitching, her exhausted muscles trembling. Coldness was spreading deep inside her bones, despite the warm tea she was sipping and the scratchy blanket Eugene had draped over her dirty skirts. (One of her favourite skirts, forever ruined by mud and grass - blood and memories.)

Her toe had turned into a dull, throbbing ache that proved harder and harder to ignore with every second. Maybe it was because of the waning adrenaline or the renewed shock. Petunia didn't know and couldn't bring herself to care.

The wizards were at war with each other.

Petunia's perceptions of war were very limited, to things she learned at school and the uneasy glances her parents had sometimes exchanged when they remembered something they never talked about. Petunia knew that her father had been drafted for the last war, had been enlisted when he was barely older than she was now - but it had always seemed so far away, something that was long past and wouldn't touch her life. He never talked about it and when he limped slightly as the weather turned especially cold, everyone in her family acted like they didn't notice.

But now … there was a war. A war that had turned a nice outing with Eugene into a scenario that Petunia would surely revisit in her nightmares.

The giant figure, shrouded in spells, the sheer panic and chaos that had surrounded her, her heart trying to rabbit out of her chest, the pinch in her throat while she was running all alone, thinking she would never find a way out …

A hand covered hers before her shivering would make the hot tea splash onto her clammy skin. The hand that she had so happily held hours mere hours ago was now scratched up, dirt crusted underneath the nails. Eugene's skin felt just as cold as hers.

"This war … who's fighting?"

His fingers twitched, his hand clenching slightly around hers. "Maniacs."

Petunia stared at him until he continued, his voice raw. "They want to topple the government and rule instead. They have certain ideas about who should and shouldn't be allowed into our society."

This sounded frighteningly familiar. The things Lily had told her about her school, that she feared for Severus … "Blood-purists?"

If Eugene was shocked that she knew about it, it didn't show in his face. Instead it was lined with exhaustion and something harder. His eyes were almost black in the low light filtering into the room they had decided to curl up in, limping inside from that secluded street in Dorset until they felt safe, encased by these familiar walls.

"Yes. They're fanatics and dangerous. There have been multiple attacks and they seem to be escalating. But I never thought they would set a giant loose at the World Cup …"

Memories cascaded over Petunia, her slim shoulders curving under their weight. This was the room where she had first arrived all those months ago, with the big fireplace that allowed her to floo in. It was used to store and prepare food for the magical creatures and had become something of a home-base over the months of visiting Eugene and Ivy. But now its brick walls felt as if they could crumble around her, the shelves and jars around her replaced by shadowy figures, the crackling of the fireplace behind her sounding like screams and roars and beneath it a dry, cackling laugh.

Eugene's thumb stroked across her palm, the motions slow and calming. Petunia met his eyes and tried to steady her heart.

She was back, she was safe. Nothing could have followed them.

Something about what Eugene had just said was nagging at her mind, as if her brain was chewing over his words and something got stuck in its teeth.

Eugene never thought something would happen at the World Cup … but he had known that it was a remote possibility.

And he had never mentioned it to Petunia. In all their time together he never even hinted at something darker going on in his world, whenever they met they talked about Magical Beasts or their families or interesting human inventions.

Never about war.

"Why have you never told me?"

There was a beat of silence. "I hoped you would never need to know."

Never need to know? Even though Petunia wasn't a witch, her most important touchpoints, Aspen, Eugene, (Lily), were all deeply entrenched in that world. How could he think to keep this quiet? Why did he think this wouldn't concern her?

A small suspicion festered in her heart, making her sick. She pulled her hand away. "Because I'm a muggle ?"

"Because you should never get involved with it. I thought … that maybe I could keep you safe."

"How would ignorance keep me safe?"

Eugene didn't answer. Petunia took a deep breath and sipped at her tea, hoping the familiar motion would settle her. It was bitter on her tongue, a fuzzy residue lingering behind that made her mouth curl. "How long?"

"Petals …"

"How long?"

He rubbed his face. "Maybe three years. But it was never like this before."

Three years of war, and Petunia hadn't even known.

Eugene was one thing, but why had Lily never mentioned anything? If not to Petunia then at least to their parents? Surely this was more important than her stupid Potions assignment or meeting up with her friends.

Memories creeped up out of Petunia's subconsciousness, little snippets of situations she had never really connected. Mrs. Weasley at the train station when she had invited Petunia to her home and lamented the 'hard times'. Bilius and Frank's comments about getting in trouble that hadn't made much sense to her.

Lily's face when she had looked at their father's newspaper.

How come Petunia had never really questioned any of it? Did she willfully keep her eyes closed to the harsh reality that lurked in those wide green orbs, Bilius' scornful voice, Eugene's evasions?

Did she simply refuse to acknowledge the danger?

Petunia stared down into her tea as if it held all the answers but the only thing she saw was her own murky reflection, swimming and trembling on the opaque surface.

Eugene had lied to her, by omission. He had kept her in the dark and her biggest worries before this day had started was if their outfits would clash, if she would understand the game, if they would somehow keep her out of their world because of her status …

All that faded in comparison to the reality of what had happened. Not even once had Petunia thought she had reason to fear for her safety.

Because Eugene had failed to warn her.

She didn't know what she was supposed to feel. Maybe outrage, maybe an echo of that same fear that had propelled her across the field, maybe even a smidge of tired understanding, but somehow everything was dulled. All she truly perceived was her aching toe.

Somehow it felt like there was only one thing left for her.

"I'm going home."

Once Petunia opened her eyes and saw the familiar wallpaper of her living room, she wanted to cry. Her emotions started trickling through the flimsy barrier of shock, pierced by the thought of 'home' that invaded her unbidden. She suddenly wanted to scream, and throw things and erase the last few hours from her memories.

Instead she carefully made her way to the upstairs bathroom, hoping it was empty. She could hear her mother in the kitchen, for once without assistance as Petunia had told her she would spend the evening with a friend.

Right about now Petunia had thought that she would still be watching the game with Eugene or maybe celebrating whichever team might have won. Not slinking through her own house like a thief, dirty and shivering.

The shower helped her calm down. Standing under a stream of water that beat against her muscles in small droplets and washed all the signs of her struggle away was cleansing in a way that went more than skin-deep. Stepping out of the bathroom Petunia collected her clothing and instead of putting it in the laundry basket she balled them into a small lump, intending to throw them away.

No matter that she probably would have been able to get rid of the stains with a few wash-cycles, they were forever ruined in her eyes.

Suddenly Petunia longed for her bed, longed for strange, mundane worries like schoolwork or how to wear her wispy hair. She didn't want to think about war, or wizards or strange creatures that stalked through the fog or toppled towers with their bare hands …

And so she should not have been all that surprised when she opened the door to her room and met Lily's big, emerald eyes.

It was summer break, so Lily at home wouldn't have been that unexpected if she hadn't been spending almost all of her time away. Lily regularly visited her school friends, sometimes staying overnight (something Peutnia never dared ask of her parents, but which Lily had no trouble announcing) and if she was in Cokeworth she usually stayed outside as long as possible, collecting frog eggs and picking weeds with one of her thick tomes clutched under her arm. She had jars full of things she called 'ingredients' and Petunia didn't do more than grimace at the collection cluttering the top of Lily's dresser.

"You're back, Tuney."

Petunia quickly gathered her wits and made her way to her own bed, on which her nightgown was folded neatly. Thoughts thick as tar were clogging her mind, one pressing to the forefront above all other: Lily knew .

Lily knew there was war and had never breathed a word of it.

Petunia was exhausted from her day and drained from her talk with Eugene. She didn't have the energy to confront Lily now - so she did her best to ignore her little sister, tugging fresh clothes over her head. The smell of her detergent settled her nerves a little, helping her to finally feel completely clean. At home in her own skin once more.

"Tuney? Are you alright?"

No.

Petunia settled on her bed, fluffing her pillow and leaning back against it. Her head was pounding and her bones were heavy as stones, dragging her limbs down. Her toe was throbbing fiercely but Petunia refused to look at her swollen, red flesh, unwilling to confront the visible reminder that the last hours hadn't been something as incorporeal as a nightmare.

"What's going on? Did something happen?"

Yes. I realised that you've been keeping secrets. I realised we're in danger.

Lily was growing exasperated with her silence, a note of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Tuney!"

And then something inside Petunia simply burst. "Lily!"

Lily blinked, taken aback at the venom in her shrill voice.

But now that the dam has broken the words spilled from Petunia's lips as if she was vomiting them up, freeing the poisonous sludge that had glued her insides together in an anxious-ridden tangle. "How could you, Lily? How could you never say anything? Why didn't you warn me, why didn't you warn Mum and Dad? This is nothing to laugh off and shrug away, it's war! War!"

"What are you - How …?"

"Did you intend to keep it from us forever?"

Lily's silence was more telling than any words could have been.

Petunia's next whisper was quiet and raw. "Why?"

"Because it has nothing to do with you!"

Petunia swallowed, a thick clump in her throat constricting her airway.

In another life, Lily might have been right. Maybe it would have never affected Petunia if she hadn't stuck her nose in wizard's business, if she had never given in to temptation and gone to Diagon Alley all those years ago …

But she had. And she wouldn't change it, wouldn't change what she had with Aspen and Ivy and Eugene - not even now that she knew about the darkness that world held.

"You're wrong."

Lily didn't seem to agree, shaking her head, her red tresses flying. "Why would I tell you, Tuney? It would be cruel!"

"Why?"

"Because there is nothing you can do!"

Petunia stopped. One breath, two breaths and then her heart started hammering again, quick and strong but driven by a strange, nameless terror.

She wished she could reassure herself against this argument as she had the first one, find a reason why Lily was wrong.

But nothing came to mind. What could Petunia do, faced with a war that employed powers she could never even dream off? What could she do to protect herself, her family, her loved ones?

The answer echoed hollowly in her chest.

Nothing. There was nothing she could do.

Lily was right.

And Petunia hated her a bit for that.