July 1975

Eugene's absence was a hollow ache inside Petunia's chest, a black hole that consumed her mind one thought at a time until she didn't go a day without missing him.

Petunia had tried different ways to keep her misery at bay but more often than not her strategy had backfired. Re-reading all of Eugene's letters made her cry and composing new ones that would never find their recipient made her chest hurt. Looking at the brooch overwhelmed her with a feeling of longing so strong she was surprised her body didn't show any signs of it.

So in the end she took everything - the brooch, the letters, the dragon scale, her book, the picture of herself and Ivy - and packed them away at the back of her closet, not forgotten but hidden from sight.

And she turned her focus onto something else, another concern that had been threatened to be swallowed before she dug it from the pit inside her mind, something to concentrate on.

Recruiting students ...

Petunia wouldn't call what she did next 'snooping'. The term made it sound too illicit, almost naughty and mischievous instead of what it actually was: cautious.

Over the summer, Petunia made a habit of flipping through Lily's school books and notes, lifting brows in mocking incredulity whenever she stumbled upon terms such as 'half a pinch of a liar's nose hair' or, in Lily's own hand, 'ask if unicorn snot tastes bad'. At least it was distracting enough.

She took care to do her 'snooping' (and she was still unsatisfied with the term) whenever the weather turned pleasant enough to entice Lily outside, her younger sister combing the fields for strange plants and insects, whatever was too slow to escape her grasp. Maybe Lily also took the time to meet up with the wretched boy, but Petunia never asked. It didn't matter to her after all.

Instead she looked over the correspondence dropped at their window sill this morning, the unfamiliar barn owl already flying off. Among a few letters Petunia spotted the colourful cover of Xenophilius' magazine, her eyes drawn to the caricature of a tall woman with a pinched expression, exaggerated lips and a lizard's tail peeking from beneath her sensible skirt. Beneath, it read in big, flashing letters: 'The truth about Jenkins' abdication revealed! Not only scandalous but scaled!'

Petunia couldn't quite suppress the amused curl of her lips, tugging the magazine closer and depositing it where she'd remember to grab it once she left her room, to find a shadowy spot with Aspen underneath his favourite tree and read it in peace, sheltered from the bite of the morning sun against her pale skin.

Her amusement didn't last long though, as she turned back to the letters that had arrived for Lily, two from her friends and one a flyer advertising the sale of 'Expert Quidditch Supplies!'. Petunia almost dismissed it, her fingers already stretching towards the first letter, the sender simply reading 'Alice' when she saw it: the small drawing of a red bird, almost invisible against the darker red backdrop of the flyer.

'Dominate the skies with our newest broom collection!' read the yellow script, drawing attention away from the miniscule bird. And then just beneath it, to explain the design should someone spot it: 'Faster than any bird'.

There was an address in Diagon Alley listed, along with a few more stickers screaming percentages and 'once in a lifetime deals' at her.

Something slithered across Petunia's neck, something slimy and cold, leaving a sick apprehension behind.

You're paranoid, she told herself. You're so obsessively looking for things that now your brain convinces you it sees them. It's just an advert, tacky and ugly ...

But it burnt like a signal flare, bright and blood-red, and Petunia was unable to completely banish it from her perception, her eyes drawn to that small bird again and again despite already carefully opening Alice's letter. I wasn't enclosed in an envelope, simply folded shut, so Petunia didn't have to worry about leaving traces behind.

The letter read mundane enough - complaints about homework, enquiries about Lily and when she could come visit, some anecdotes of her own summer fun - but there was one sentence that didn't sit right with Petunia, stuck in her craw like a fishbone, scratching her raw no matter how often she tried to swallow it.

'At least this summer, there is something to do! And getting burned for this is much more worthwhile than for Sluggy's homework.'

She never elaborated what 'this' was but her letter ended with an ominous 'See you in Diagon, don't forget your wand!'

"Surely not," Petunia whispered. "Lily wouldn't ..."

... be so foolish.

But the words weren't true, and so Petunia couldn't even finish her whispered sentence, because deep down she knew Lily would be.

Petunia knew her little sister, maybe better than many others, able to see behind the facade of ever-lasting cheer and coy smiles, of twinkling flowers and perfectly-scrubbed cauldrons. She remembered the few times Lily was truly annoyed, she remembered when she started crying because their Mum hadn't bought the right fabric for their curtains, she remembered when Lily tried to cut her own hair only to be forced to wear it in a tight bun until she stopped looking like she'd fallen prey to hedge shears.

And among all others faults Petunia was aware of Lily's righteousness. This knowledge had been the driving force behind her snooping from the start, the slow boiling surety that this was something Lily would burn for.

And getting burned for this is much more worthwhile than for Sluggy's homework.

Protecting the innocent, becoming a saviour, turning into a warrior princess with a heart of gold for all those that couldn't help themselves - a heroine, opposing the villain set on destroying her wonderful, magical world, the monster to Lily's fairytale.

But reality was rarely so clear-cut. Lily wouldn't win just because she was pretty, and well-loved and magical, that's not how it worked. If she joined a war she would have to grit her teeth, face horror and pain and still there was no guarantee that she would actually become the heroine instead of just one among many, a faceless soldier or victim, slaughtered and forgotten.

Maybe it was the fault of their parents, always treating Lily like she was so special, above worldly weaknesses. Maybe Petunia had contributed to this belief, long thinking the same and her jealousy acting like fertile soil for Lily's superiority complex. Maybe it was the fact that Lily was special, always able to find friends, always the most beautiful without trying and even at a school filled with special children able to shine among them, reaping praise and adoration.

But nothing like that would be special enough to win a war. To survive a war.

Petunia had gone through Lily's mail and books so often that it had become routine, a task she didn't think about and at this point she had convinced herself that she would never find anything.

Now that the evidence was glaring up at her, a small bird, red on red, it felt surreal. Like this must be a bad dream, one of her secret, hidden fears visualised just to torment her further.

But the words, sprawled ink in Alice's sloppy handwriting, didn't change.

'See you in Diagon, don't forget your wand!'

And beneath it a small scribble, something that looked thoughtless but for Petunia now held too much meaning, the final nail in the coffin of her reassurances. A blotchy, bent feather, not more than a few pen strokes necessary to sketch the impression.

A bird, a feather, red and burning - The Order of the Phoenix had sunk its bloody talons into Petunia's little sister.

"You went through my mail?"

A very small corner of Petunia's memory pinged with recognition but she didn't follow the pulse to see where it led her. The here and now was much more important, capturing her attention in a closed fist.

"I'm not the one who has to explain herself," Petunia lied, lifting the red flyer. Scarlet as sin, she thought and had to consider that maybe she was truly overwhelmed if her mind turned so macabre. "What's this?"

For all her strengths, Lily had never been a good liar. "Just a promotion for a store."

The confirmation, unspoken but visible in Lily's pale cheeks and shifting eyes, sat like a stone in Petunia's stomach, flattening her organs. "What about the bird, Lily?"

"How would I know? It doesn't mean anything. Why are you doing this, Tuney?"

"You know why."

"No, I don't! Why would you open my letters? And why do you care about - Quidditch supplies?"

Petunia almost allowed the charade. Almost. "I know about the Order, Lily."

Lily stilled. Her twitching fingers, her quick blinking, all froze as if she were a deer in headlights and Petunia sat behind the wheel, pressing the accelerator. When words finally escaped her lips, they were small and toneless. "How do you know?"

"Does it matter? How could you be so stupid, Lily? How could you fall for those obvious lies -"

"They're not lying!" Lily's fire broke through her frozen shell, her eyes ignited with conviction. "We're the ones who have the power to stop all this, we're the ones who'll ensure a brighter feature -"

"You're fifteen!" Petunia's voice could only be called a shriek, high, piercing and hysterical. "Fifteen, Lily! You should be the one being protected, not protecting others! You're -"

"I'm not a child!" The tears brimming in Lily's eyes made the statement almost ironic, though they did not fall, bathing emerald greens instead. "Why don't you understand, Tuney? I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and I know that this is the right one!"

"You're a foolish, brainwashed idiot who is not even old enough to -"

"Don't always act like such a grown-up, you hypocrite! You're barely older than me -"

"What's going on here?"

This time both of them paused, the words of their mother cutting through the girls' escalating voices like a cleaving sword. After all, this was the tone both girls had been conditioned to listen to since childhood.

And both of them had forgotten that their room was in no way soundproof.

"Nothing," Lily was the first to shake off their shared stupor, giving a brittle smile to their mother. But she glanced at Petunia and her eyes had changed. No longer were they bright with passion, instead all she saw was mute pleading.

Don't say anything, please, Tuney.

It was almost as if Lily had spoken aloud, the unsaid words hovering in the air between the two sisters, delicate as spun glass.

Petunia opened her mouth, unsure what she would actually say until the words left her tongue: "Mum, there's something you should know."

And the careful trust shattered on the floor at her feet, the tinkling still ringing in Petunia's ears hours later.

Severus was used to nighttime disturbances while he stayed at Spinner's End.

His father, late and drunk and loud. His father's debt collectors, just as late but even louder.

His mother, on those rare evenings she could stir enough of a reaction to raise her voice, high and sharp like a siren. And those were always accompanied by the clear shattering of glass and ceramic, empty bottles and dirty dishes thrown by both parties.

But seldom did he wake to the sound of small pebbles hitting his window. And even more seldom did he look out of his window only for the breath to be punched from his lungs, his eyes widening at what they saw. A girl, hair like living fire in the darkness surrounding her, heart-shaped face turned up towards his window, a too big jacket thrown over what could only be her nightclothes.

"Lily."

It had been days since he had last seen her, weeks since she had last talked to him, months since she had actually sought him out and years since she had been here.

And with strange trepidation, Severus realised that something bad must have happened.

Lily was crying. Each tear was a needle prick against the vulnerable tissue beneath Severus' ribs, stabbing deeper with every clear droplet that ran down her soft cheeks.

"How could she do that to m-me?"

Severus felt uncomfortably helpless. People didn't look for him when they needed comfort (people only looked for him for much harsher things) and he had very little experience with being consoled himself. What should he do? How could he help Lily?

How could he get her to stop crying?

All he could think to do was ask: "What happened?"

"She … I didn't think she would, but she did! And now -" Another hiccuping sob and Severus felt his own throat clench in sympathy. "And now I'm grounded and they said, they said, they would pull me from school if I ever …"

The rest was sobbed into the tissue Severus had given her, actually a few layered pieces of toilet paper. It felt very wrong to see them touching Lily's lovely face, too unworthy to soak up her tears. Severus quickly averted his eyes, shame and an urge to spare himself pain directing his gaze away.

It landed on the fissured cracks that ran through his naked wall like veins through flesh, flesh the colour the stained yellow of a smoker's lungs, courtesy of smog and dirty air instead of real paint. His bed was just below the last peel of faded wallpaper, a huddle of grey, unwashed sheets and springs pressing through the flimsy mattress, usually torturing his ribs and shoulder blades. The only other furniture in the narrow room was his Hogwarts trunk, once belonging to his mother and still holding her initials carved into the old, warped wood. It was stuffed with singed robes wrapped around carefully corked potions and tattered books, the chaos within visible as Severus hadn't bothered closing it.

A sour smell lingered in the air and Severus wasn't quite sure if it was the stench of his sweat or of his father's opened bottles.

But Lily was here, in his room. Severus had sometimes dreamt of this moment but only ever in such abstract terms that they defied all reality - his room would be big and clean, filled with expensive things and his dirt-crusted window wouldn't overlook a garbage-filled sidealley but a stunning scenery instead.

Just like Potter's room probably looked right this second, Severus sneered internally, filled with every precious thing his spoiled heart could think of - except the one currently in Severus' room: Lily.

Though he had to admit he certainly wished he had at least cleaned up a bit and that she would be smiling instead of crying. But it didn't change the fact that she had chosen him to come to.

And Severus would do his best to protect her, as he had vowed to himself all those years ago when he first saw a young witch in horrid, muggle-invested Cokeworth, a breeze ruffling her flower-covered dress while she played on the swings, higher and higher with a tinkling laugh (and her skeletal, waspish sister screaming at her to get down in the background).

So he repeated: "What happened?"

And Lily told him. About her wish to help, about her dream of saving people, of those like-minded with her that had reached out. And then her face shuttered and new tears were blinked free, her lips wobbling when she continued: "And Tuney … she somehow found out and she completely overreacted! She was screaming and then Mum came and Tuney - she …"

Something inside Severus' chest clenched.

"It's all her fault! She told Mum and Dad and then they said they won't let me go back to Hogwarts if I ever do something like that again, because they don't understand - I already promised I would, I made plans so I could finally do some good and now everything is ruined!"

"Your sister …"

"She betrayed me - I don't understand how she could … I know that she was always, you know, because of my magic, and I did my best to understand, she just didn't like it and it was fine, but I never thought - How could she?"

Severus swallowed. His mouth tasted foul.

Lily's sobs slowed and her voice lost volume. "I think I fooled myself … I believed that no matter what happened between us, she would be on my side when it really counted."

Severus had no answer to give, only one phrase ringing in his ears, uttered years past. He had sworn himself he would do whatever Lily wanted, to keep her happy. Now it was time to prove himself.

He had a promise to keep.

There are still quite a few twist and turns on Petunia's road! I hope you're looking forward to where her path will lead her ^^