Orange Isn't Her Color
Written for 31_october_days ~ Oct. 9: Petunia Evans Dursley
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Title: Orange Isn’t Her Color
Warnings: none
Rating: G
Summary: Petunia Evans deals with a dress, a dinner, and a date.
Word Count: 278
Petunias come in every color but orange. As Miss Evans surveys her reflection in the mirror, she thinks there’s probably a good reason for that. The dress is bright and cheerful and makes her skin look entirely pale by comparison. She doesn’t know what came over her to purchase it, unless they used trick mirrors in the fitting room, because she could’ve sworn it looked good in the shop. Vernon is arriving in an hour and she looks like a tangerine. She shucks the dress, discards it on the floor, and changes into a far more flattering pink.
Petunia spritzes the most demure amount of perfume possible into the air and walks through the invisible mist. It isn’t the smell of flowers that’s going to win over Vernon, however, she knows. Tonight she’s cooking a meal that will showcase her best talents, and the aroma that’s wafting from the kitchen will be far more enticing. She flounces down the stairs to check on the roast, pausing only to throw the orange dress in the rag bin.
Eventually Vernon Dursley arrives, her parents seem cautiously optimistic, and Petunia has managed to get the roast to come out at the same time as the mashed potatoes.
And then Lily comes down the stairs and all eyes turn to her. Including Vernon’s.
Even Petunia has to admit that Lily’s a vision in the orange dress. It should be a rumpled mess, but it isn’t.
It should clash with her red hair, but it doesn’t.
It shouldn’t fit her broader curves or her shorter figure, but it does.
It shouldn’t be the moment she comes to hate her sister.
But it is.
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.
Title: Orange Isn’t Her Color
Warnings: none
Rating: G
Summary: Petunia Evans deals with a dress, a dinner, and a date.
Word Count: 278
Petunias come in every color but orange. As Miss Evans surveys her reflection in the mirror, she thinks there’s probably a good reason for that. The dress is bright and cheerful and makes her skin look entirely pale by comparison. She doesn’t know what came over her to purchase it, unless they used trick mirrors in the fitting room, because she could’ve sworn it looked good in the shop. Vernon is arriving in an hour and she looks like a tangerine. She shucks the dress, discards it on the floor, and changes into a far more flattering pink.
Petunia spritzes the most demure amount of perfume possible into the air and walks through the invisible mist. It isn’t the smell of flowers that’s going to win over Vernon, however, she knows. Tonight she’s cooking a meal that will showcase her best talents, and the aroma that’s wafting from the kitchen will be far more enticing. She flounces down the stairs to check on the roast, pausing only to throw the orange dress in the rag bin.
Eventually Vernon Dursley arrives, her parents seem cautiously optimistic, and Petunia has managed to get the roast to come out at the same time as the mashed potatoes.
And then Lily comes down the stairs and all eyes turn to her. Including Vernon’s.
Even Petunia has to admit that Lily’s a vision in the orange dress. It should be a rumpled mess, but it isn’t.
It should clash with her red hair, but it doesn’t.
It shouldn’t fit her broader curves or her shorter figure, but it does.
It shouldn’t be the moment she comes to hate her sister.
But it is.