March 1975

Eugene was waiting for her in the room they had last parted, Petunia dusting the ash from her sleeves while memories drummed in her head. The taste of stale tea, the smudged dirt on her skin and the pain from her toe running up her leg until her temples pulsed in tune to her heart while talk of war and betrayal lingered in the air.

The room looked largely unchanged, buckets of feed and plants cluttering the corners and shelves, naked brick walls bathed by the green flames behind her, affording Eugene with a sickly pallor. It didn't deter from his smile and when his hand closed around hers Petunia allowed herself to be tucked forward into his arms.

It was a quick embrace, so fleeting Eugene's warmth didn't have a chance to settle in her stomach. But she felt it nonetheless, like smooth sugar water running down her throat, clogging her arteries with sweetness. He smelled like himself, accompanied by a faint note of bitter, burnt herbs. "Did you start smoking?"

Eugene laughed. "I'm happy to see you too, Petals. And thank Merlin Mum doesn't have your nose."

Petunia huffed. It was easy to fall into their usual roles, Eugene teasing and Petunia nagging, as if the last half year hadn't happened, as if the loneliness and doubts were firmly banished to the past. But a trace of them lingered, shadowy smudges tainting the comfortable closeness between them.

"How's Ivy?" Petunia asked. Her concern hadn't been a convenient excuse to visit Eugene - she really missed the lively Occamy in all her chirping and coiling exuberance.

Eugene took her hand and started leading her from the room, away from the memories. "Peckish, just like you."

Ivy's feather's had changed their hue.

Petunia couldn't help but stare at the wings resting against the Occamy's scaled spine. The last time she had seen Ivy her feathers had still been soft, fluffy and bright purple. Now the colour had deepened towards the tip, turning a shade of magenta before darkening to rich burgundy.

She looked different. More intimidating, more dangerous. Grown-up.

And Petunia had the sudden, irrational urge to cry.

"Ivy ..."

At the sound of her voice Ivy's head shot up, previously bedded among her siblings to nap, and now whipping towards them, golden eyes alighting on her. The next thing Petunia knew she was enveloped in a prison of gleaming scales, smooth and cool against her limbs and wrapped so tightly she would have lost her balance if Eugene hadn't reacted in time and grabbed onto her. Ivy's trilling rang in her ears, loud and happy, and Petunia's hands found the down atop her head to bury her fingers in, smooth and unchanged.

"If she gets any bigger," Eugene warned but didn't have time to finish before they toppled over, his back taking the brunt of the impact.

And just like that the urge to cry was banished in favour of laughter, Petunia's lungs unclenching when she felt Eugene's firm chest at her back and Ivy's smooth scales rubbing against her face.

She had missed this.

"Petals - save me …"

"Oh, stop being so dramatic." Petunia calmed Ivy with firm pets, urging her to let them up, clambering off Eugene when Ivy had turned the size of her arm. She looped around Petunia like a belt, pinching her waist tightly, her reptilian head pressed flat just above Petunia's belly-button, crinkling her powder-blue blouse. Her scales glittered like a stream come to life, turquoise, aquamarine and cobalt flashing in tandem, split by the crest of long feathers running along her spine. Her wings draped over Petunia's thighs as she sat down, heavier than they looked but somehow grounding, like a weighted blanket.

"Dramatic? My life flashed before my eyes." Eugene dusted grass off his shirt, his sparkling eyes belying his words. Petunia had the sudden urge to lean forward, bridge the scant distance between them, press her lips to his and see if his smile was flavoured smoky thanks to his new vice.

Instead she took a deep breath, reminding herself that she didn't want to leave matters unspoken any longer.

"Eugene - what do you think of us?"

He blinked, the stars fleeing from his eyes to make space for a deeper colour. "Petals?"

Petunia rested her palms on Ivy's cool scales, wishing to syphon the Occamy's calm. "I don't know any more what we are to each other - maybe I never knew. It just happened and we never talked …"

"I'm going to America."

Ice crystallised her veins. "W-what?"

Eugene rubbed a hand over his face. "Petals, I want you, whatever way you'll have me - there is no one I'd rather be with. Whenever something happens to me, good or bad, big or small, my first instinct is always to tell you about it. When you wrote that you needed time … it almost broke me."

His voice trickled over Petunia's insecurities, cleansing and calming, if it weren't for the new yawning fear that had cleaved through her chest. "America?"

Eugene took a deep breath, as if steeling himself. "My parents … did I ever tell you about them?"

Petunia didn't react and Eugene continued after a beat of silence. "They met while they were quite young, and both had high ambitions - my Mum pursued her career as an Auror in America, while my father travelled the world for years, searching for beasts on all continents. They didn't need to be with each other constantly to know they belonged together."

"Eugene …"

"I won't be gone forever, just until - it was something that was already planned before the war, that once I graduate we'd go to America, visit my mother's family for more than a few weeks. And now that everything here is so …"

"You're leaving?"

"Not forever - just a while, get to know my nieces and visit my uncle and aunt … just until Mum has calmed down. The last war – it cost my family. And when they had me - Mum thought she was too old to have children, settling down late in life, both my father and her too adventurous for raising children until it was considered a non-issue. And now that the next war is on their doorstep she sees how we get dragged into it - My Dad, Frank, Billy, me …"

Petunia tried to swallow against the lump in her throat. "Dragged in how?"

But Eugene only shook his head. "Mum's brave. She was Head of the Auror Department for a reason. It's just when her loved ones are threatened that she - she needs some time to see that we'll be alright, that we're needed here. For now …"

"How long?"

She could hear Eugene's throat click when he swallowed. "I don't know. Petals … I won't ask you to wait for me because I know it wouldn't be fair but please believe me … I won't ever find someone else that makes me feel the way you do. I don't want anyone else."

They had only just found each other again and now they would be separated, not by stubbornness but by distance, an ocean spanning between them, too far for even Krampus to cross.

Petunia didn't know when tears had sprung to her eyes but she was determined not to let them fall. "I don't want anyone else either, Eugene."

In the end Petunia couldn't say if it was Eugene or herself who leaned forward, who seeked out the other but a flash of relief pierced through her when they finally kissed, his hands framing her face carefully. His next words were spoken against Petunia's lips. "Only you, Petals. It will always be you."

"I'll be here."

And though she hadn't said it she felt the certainty in her bones that Eugene would come back to her, and that she would be here to welcome him.

April 1975

Petunia learned about the Order of the Phoenix on a sunny afternoon in what could barely be called spring, the first sprigs of green only just unfurling on the naked branches, the air still holding a nip of frost despite the clear sky stretching above them.

"He's right in front of you."

Eugene looked at what to him must appear as empty space and carefully extended one hand, palm up. Aspen slitted nostrils trembled for a second before he nudged Eugene, his milky eyes narrowing as he huffed.

Petunia was more nervous about introducing the two of them than she was at the thought of Eugene someday meeting her parents, Aspen's approval weighing heavier on her heart. So when Aspen allowed Eugene to carefully pet his invisible neck, a fluttering lightness spread through her.

"Want to go for a flight?"

Eugene's wide grin answered for him and excitement swooped deep in her belly. Flying with Aspen was one of the most precious things in her life, something she wouldn't trade for all the riches and fame in the world. The experience was always intimate, trust required between Aspen and her, the unique freedom she felt while they raced through the sky, unimpeded by gravity or obstacles or anyone else.

To be able to share it with Eugene was at once exhilarating and slightly terrifying.

Saddling Aspen didn't take long, practise making Petunia's moves smooth and sure. Once she sat on the blanket she used to pad Aspen's ridged spine she looked at Eugene, hoping her nerves were well hidden. "Come up."

Eugene's fingers quested the blanket that to him must be hovering above empty space, finding a grip to hoist himself up. He settled behind Petunia, grabbing the rope that tethered them to Aspen and resting his other arm around her waist.

"Ready?"

He nodded, his chin brushing her shoulder. "Ready."

Petunia straightened her spine. "Let's go."

Aspen shook his mane and set off, stick-thin legs drumming across the field beneath them, clumps of grass and earth sent flying while Aspen gained speed, his wings snapping open at the last second - and then they were in the air.

Petunia couldn't suppress a laugh and was gratified to hear Eugene shout with the same heady enjoyment that she felt.

Crisp air whipped Petunia's pale hair behind her, striking her cheeks rosy and filling her nose with the scent of fresh dew and ozone. It was sharp, cold and above all things, invigorating.

Petunia never felt more alive than when she was on Aspen's back.

They chased the flimsy whispers of clouds on the horizon, pearls of condensation weighing their clothes and wetting their faces. The sky unfolded around them, a canvas of bleeding grey and vibrant blue dotted with white and sprawling above the woods, fields and houses growing smaller beneath them.

Aspen's wings beat a steady, strong rhythm beside them, mirroring Petunia's heartbeat, while his flanks gleamed like black oil, the small braids Petunia had forced upon his stringy mane dancing like seaweed underwater.

The wind suddenly got sharper as Aspen stretched his legs and lowered his head and it only took Petunia a second to read his intent. "Grab on tight!"

Aspen tucked in his wings and then they were plunging.

Petunia swallowed her scream and huddled down as close to Aspen's bony back as she was able, her fingers clawing around the rope that tied them together. Her eyes were watering and she had to narrow them against the sting of the air, almost blind. Eugene was a reassuring presence at her back, his weight anchoring her more firmly to Aspen, his form sheltering her from the worst of the cutting winds.

And then it was over, Aspen's wings snapping back open with a loud clap, his body angling them to catch the wind and slow to a comfortable speed. His wings billowed peacefully next to them, as if the panic-inducing speed from before had been solely their imagination.

"Aspen," Petunia breathlessly started her scolding but was interrupted by Eugene's loud exclamation of "Brilliant!"

"Don't encourage him!"

"He's bloody fast - I doubt even Icarus could keep up!"

Aspen's ears swivelled with obvious interest and Petunia quickly patted his neck. "Well, Icarus isn't here so there's no need for any antics."

"Next time," Eugene promised and Petunia wasn't quite sure if he was talking to her or to Aspen.

Petunia knew that Aspen was smart, way smarter than an animal had any right to be - but on the other hand, he wasn't really an animal, was he? Aspen was magic.

Petunia felt Aspen's ribs expanding with each puff of air, pressing against her thighs and making her own breath synchronise without conscious thought. Her heart slowed and her fingers, made clumsy from the waning adrenaline that always sludged through her veins after taking a plunge with Aspen, loosened their hold on the rope.

They cruised for a while in silence, Petunia enjoying the citrusy smell of spring in the air and the scenery sprawling beneath them, when Eugene dragged her closer, burying his face in Petunia's neck, his breath stirring the fine hairs at her nape.

Petunia touched the hand bandied around her middle, feeling the tendons between his knuckles flex. She sensed that the topic that had hovered over their peaceful afternoon was about to be given form through his words. "Eugene?"

There was a long pause before he spoke, the vibration of his voice running through her. "It's just - Frank and Billy … They are determined to join as soon as they graduate."

"Join what?"

"The Order of the Phoenix. When we first met Frank talked about becoming a famous musician, touring the world … Now all he talks about is the war." Another pause. "They make it sound glamorous but all it really is is a group of renegades determined to weed out the enemies using their own methods - secrecy, small numbers and pre-emptive strikes."

"But Frank is just …"

She felt Eugene's hair rub against her skin in a tickling caress when he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. They're recruiting students, graduates and others - us. Billy is already singing their praises and Frank doesn't even question it anymore."

Coldness seeped down Petunia's back, more a phenomenon of her sudden fear than caused by the breeze dancing around them. Recruiting students?

"What about you?"

What about Lily?

"Maybe if I didn't know what it would do to Mum - to you. But killing people - I'm no hero and I'm no murderer. No matter how they package it, they want us to …"

Petunia tightened her grip on his hand, interweaving their fingers. Memories whirled through her head, called upon by his words like leaves by the wind, impressions of Eugene's dirt-streaked face, his ripped clothes and above all the steady grip of his hand around hers while he pulled her to safety among chaos. "You're no coward, Eugene, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're smart and you're brave and you care about the people around you more than - "

"More than Frank or Bilius? They're ready to kill and die to save people."

"They can't understand how it really is, how dangerous -"

"But also glorious." Petunia had never heard Eugene's voice sound this resigned. "They want to be heroes, and what better way than to defeat the most notorious dark wizard of this age, saving everyone? And that is what the Order of the Phoenix promises, not violence and fear but triumph and fame."

Petunia swallowed. "Surely they won't …"

Eugene sighed. "Oh, but they will. Brave, brave Gryffindors."

Wind rustled through their hair and clothes, plucking at them like a million questing fingers wanting to lead them in another direction. Petunia concentrated on the air whistling beneath Aspen's wings, Eugene's heartbeat thrumming steady and strong at her back and calm slowly seeped in her bones. They were safe here in their small bubble, protected by giant black wings high above the ground.

"What will you do?"

"I don't know if there is anything I can do, Petals."

The sunlight didn't feel as bright anymore and the chill in the air had turned so sharp that gooseflesh rippled across her arms. Petunia's next words were barely a whisper: "It will be alright."

Eugene sat up a bit, pressing a small kiss behind her ear. "I hope so."

Petunia dearly wished she would believe her own words.

June 1975

Petunia stared at the building rising before her, her eyes trailing over the gaps between the evenly layered grey bricks. Small dots and traces of brown snaked over its facade, leftovers from the clinging vines that were ripped down every autumn only to grow anew each spring.

Petunia couldn't exactly claim the feeling churning inside her stomach as nostalgia. She had never cherished her time in school, always the outcast, the stuck up girl who no one wanted to befriend, only well-known for her pretty sister who went to a fancy boarding school far away from dreary Cokeworth. Petunia's good grades had been motivated by a wish for validation and not because she actually held any academic ambitions.

But now that it was over and she would never set foot in the narrow hallways smelling like lemon-scented cleaner and dry chalk again, her memories were tinted with longing, painted with a softer brush.

Graduating school marked the end of a part of Petunia's life, her identity. She was no longer a student. Now it was up to her to claim a new label.

And the freedom was fairly daunting.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Mrs Fairweather pushed through the crowd of excited students and tear-eyed parents, stopping in front of Petunia, the lines on her stern face relaxed for once, her ashy hair not as meticulously pulled back as usual.

"Ms Evans. How are you faring?"

"Good, Mrs Fairweather."

Her teacher nodded with approval. "Well, I just talked to your father about the typing course in London - I think it would be a perfect opportunity for a young lady as principled as you."

Petunia swallowed against a rush of dread. "Thank you, Mrs Fairweather. I'm considering …"

"What's there to consider? A clear path is the first step to success, once you put in the effort you'll be able to get a good job at a big company, maybe even a position as private secretary."

Petunia felt as if Mrs Fairweather wished to be in Petunia's position, voicing the longings of a time long past veiled in advice for her student. Moving to London, becoming a capable working woman, joining the leagues of other young girls with dreams of the big city sounded glamorous and enticing, but Petunia felt as if it was actually a sour lemon trying to hide beneath a sprinkling of sugar.

She would be alone and her future would be set in stone. Where would she keep Aspen if she lived in a small city apartment? Where would she find the leisure to think about magical creatures and secret wars when she started working a full-time job, her mind filled with other, mundane but much more immediate, concerns?

But what was the alternative? Petunia could stay here in Cokeworth, try to get a job through her mother's employment, serving lunch to workers, slowly dulling and turning grey, dragged into the dredges she had so longed to escape.

"It is an opportunity not afforded to everyone, I assure you," Mrs Fairweather continued when she sensed Petunia's hesitation. "You should consider your options carefully, Ms Evans."

Petunia managed a stiff smile, noticing her parents lurking at the edge of the crowd. They had apparently socialised enough, ready to award their daughter with an awkward hug for her accomplishment before resuming their regular day. For them it was just another Thursday, not the end of life as they had known it.

"Yes, Mrs Fairweather."

"I know you will make the right decision, Ms Evans, you're a bright girl."

The right decision … Petunia's smile turned a bit more brittle.

How would she ever know what decision would be the right one? Or would she realise it only when it was already too late?

While the other graduates around her looked towards the future with excitement, rosy cheeks and glittering eyes, Petunia felt almost like an imposter among them, her heart weighed with dread.

For a second Petunia wondered how Eugene's graduation was going. Did he feel as alone as her, among others talking about joining the war when he knew he would be leaving it all behind? Did he feel as untethered, like a boat leaving a safe harbour without any destination or direction?

Did he wonder about her?

Petunia shook her morose thoughts away and walked over to her parents, trying to ignore the clock that had just started ticking. Now that Eugene had graduated he would be leaving for America and Petunia's own future was a greedy maw, filled with uncertain darkness and riddled with sharp teeth, greedily chewing away at her time, a bite a day.

Soon, she would run out.

Eugene's room was painted in slanting beams of evening sunlight coming through his attic windows, bathing everything within in soft hues of gold.

Wooden shelves were fastened above his bed, groaning under a multitude of thick books and some potted plants which trailed their leaves down the white walls in delicate, green ropes, some almost brushing his pillows. Posters of bands and musicians with names such as 'Spellbound' or 'Vampire from the Valleys' clustered the other walls, interspaced with moving photographs who drew Petunia's attention more firmly.

All of them showed Eugene. In most of them he was wearing a Hogwarts robe, always surrounded by people, sometimes Frank and Bilius, sometimes others Petunia hadn't seen before. They nudged shoulders, ruffled hair and laughed happily as if they constantly regaled each other with silent jokes. In between Petunia spotted a handful pictures of Eugene as a young boy, freckled and golden haired with gap-toothed smiles alongside pictures of what must be Eugene's family, cousins and uncles and his parents, all dressed their best surrounding an older couple, tugging at ties and shifting their feet. The Eugene in the pictures smiled and winked and waved at her and Petunia was fascinated.

Especially when she had discovered the small picture of herself, twin to the one Eugene had gifted her for Christmas, her hair bathed in sunshine and Ivy curled around her in a glittering, blue frame, sitting at his bedside.

But all the fascination couldn't really distract from the somewhat hollowed out feeling the room was giving her. There were empty spaces between the books where favourites had been picked out and his dresser gaped open slightly, allowing Petunia a glimpse of empty hangers.

Most conspicuous was the big suitcase at the foot of his bed.

Tomorrow, her heart whispered treacherously, Eugene will be gone tomorrow.

A small nip at Petunia's scalp redirected her attention to the fingers in her hair, clumsy as they were.

"Careful," she scolded, though her tone lacked any real bite.

"I beg your forgiveness, Petals."

Petunia gave a small huff, stretching her own fingers as they glided through soft, grey fur. The demiguise slumbering on Eugene's sheets flickered out of sight for only a second before becoming visible again, feeling safe and calm enough to allow Petunia's ministrations.

Somehow Eugene's room wouldn't have felt complete without at least one creature in it. And this one could have passed for a giant plush toy, with its giant, round eyes and ape-like, sprawling limbs.

And right now it was functioning as Petunia's mannequin. "Watch me."

She neatly parted the demiguise's fur, each hair as long as her forearm, smooth as silk and thin as a spiderweb, into three strands, slowing down her movements so Eugene could follow along. The creature continued to doze peacefully and Petunia silently marvelled at its trust.

Eugene had told her that demiguise were hunted for their fur because wizards fashioned it into cloaks to steal the creature's ability to turn invisible. Was it so calm because it was intelligent enough to realise that Petunia was no threat? Or did it simply know Eugene and was reassured by his presence?

Eugene's fingers gentled in her hair, the nip turning into a pleasant tug instead. Petunia kept to her tempo, and felt Eugene matching her.

"What will happen to him while you're gone?"

The fingers in her hair stilled for a second before their rhythmic tugging resumed. "My father's suitcase, he'll simply take them all along."

Petunia swallowed, her thoughts darting to Ivy. Her voice was smaller when she spoke next. "All of them?"

"He wouldn't want to leave anyone behind."

Except me, Petunia thought and felt ridiculous in the next second. It wasn't like Eugene's father was responsible for her like he was for his creatures.

"Petals …"

His voice sounded apologetic and Petunia almost shook her head before remembering that her hair was currently needed. But she couldn't force any words past her tight throat.

So much could change while Eugene was gone. Maybe when they saw each other again Petunia would be living in London, taking a type course. Maybe she would be waiting tables at the local pub in Cokeworth.

Maybe she would be frozen in time like she was now, living with her parents without any direction to take.

And maybe Eugene would have found something - someone - much more interesting in America.

"There." The flicker of triumph in Eugene's voice distracted Petunia from her haunted thoughts. "All finished. What do you say?"

Petunia lightly ran her fingers over her head, feeling the smooth loops of her braided hair. Her voice sounded too hoarse. "Not bad."

"It's a masterpiece. My nieces send their thanks in advance."

Petunia hummed, tugging the braid across her shoulder so she could take a look.

Eugene continued: "As they should, you sacrificed half your hair for their sake."

"What?"

Their wide eyes met, Eugene mimicking her and then he chuckled. "Petals! Don't you think you would have felt it if I had secretly scalped you?"

Petunia slapped his thigh - the first body part within reach - a satisfying clap ranging out at her strength. Eugene laughed harder. "Mercy!"

"Quiet. You'll wake him."

But the demiguise had already turned around, observing their antics with eyes the size of tea saucer, dominating its strangely expressive face consisting of a mixture of owlish and simian features. The braid Petunia had fashioned was already unfurling in its sleek fur when it slowly sat up and left the bed, moving like an arthritic old man, in search of a quieter place for a nap. Petunia watched as it carefully nestled into the empty closet, closing its eyes again.

Somehow the words she had swallowed again and again all day burst forth at that unconnected moment, as if now that their audience was gone there was no more need for restraint.

"I don't want you to go."

There was a beat of silence before Eugene's arms closed around her, tugging her closer to his warmth. "I don't want to leave you either, Petals."

"Then why -" Her throat closed. Eugene had already explained why but understanding his reasons didn't make it any easier.

"I have something for you."

Petunia missed his presence as soon as Eugene stood up, the sheets rustling when he moved away, her skin cold and numb in the absence of his touch. Before she had a chance to ask where he was going, he was back, settling in front of her this time. His hand was closed around something small enough to be hidden in his fist.

"What …"

Eugene uncurled his fingers, the object in his palm catching the rosy overhead light and throwing a multitude of glittering rays around the room, dappled over Petunia's skin like painted shards of a rainbow.

Petunia breath caught.

Her brooch.

Lying on Eugene's hand was the brooch Petunia had inherited from her grandmother, the one she had given away in exchange for Ivy, the one she had been sure she would never see again.

"How …"

It still looked exactly as she remembered, finely spun silver petals dotted with a multitude of glittering, small stones surrounding a polished sapphire in the middle.

Eugene took her hand and set the piece of jewellery down on her palm carefully. The coolness of metal nipping her skin made her realise that this was real, like Petunia had needed physical proof that she wasn't dreaming.

"I never forget what you tell me, Petals. Every small thing, even if you try to gloss it over, I remember it all. And I promised myself that I would get this back for you, whatever the cost."

"You did," Petunia whispered.

Eugene smiled, a lopsided twist of his lips. "I always keep my promises."

Petunia carefully set the brooch down beside her, its impression lingering on her flesh even when she clenched her fingers in the soft fabric of Eugene's shirt, linen overriding the sensation of thin silver.

Petunia tugged him forward on instinct, everything inside her screaming to touch him. She desperately wanted to be closer, so close that all barriers between them melted away, that their air and warmth merged, to feel Eugene all around her. His hands tangled in her hair and clothes, anchoring her, his breath matching her own, his chest pressing against hers in their shared rhythm, their lips moving with the desperation Petunia felt rooted in her heart.

She closed her eyes with his whispered promise in her ear.

"I'll be back as soon as I can."