Marauder Rare Pairs ♦ Fic: Smoke and Mirrors
Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Author: perilousgard
Pairing: James/Petunia
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4,128
Prompt: 33. James/Petunia. At her sister's hen night, Lily receives a joke gift: a love potion. Petunia doesn't believe in these things, of course--of course, she doesn't. But she can't help but to wonder what would happen if she put just a few drops into Vernon Dursley's tea when he comes for Sunday dinner. That was Vernon's cup....wasn't it?
Warnings: None.
Summary: Exactly as the prompt says. Petunia has to deal with the consequences of a love potioned James for a day!
Author's Notes: The way the prompt was written was actually a little confusing to me, so I may have changed a few details around.
Smoke and Mirrors
“Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes... just be an illusion.”
Petunia spies the small, pink bottle sitting on Lily’s dresser two days after her hen night, only one of many things that is just not normal about her sister’s room. She can’t explain the feeling that draws her here today, when Lily is out celebrating her engagement with that boy….that wizard. The word sticks in her mind like a nasty swear. Petunia thinks her curiosity about her sister’s world died long ago, when they were still just children and Lily was making flowers bloom or disappearing out of thin air and ending up on the roof, or once-and this had made Petunia laugh at the time-even pelting their mean old history teacher Mrs. Crabtree with erasers.
But something about the objects in Lily’s room, and the powers they exuded that Petunia will never be able to harness, draw her in like a bee to honey.
A trunk is open at the foot of Lily’s bed, overflowing with sets of robes, wizarding sweets, frog spawn and whatever else it is that she brings home, and there is a broom propped up against her closet door that probably flies, but her attention is caught completely by the little pink vial on her dresser. She doesn’t know why-pink is her favorite color, but it’s just a little thing. Probably only a perfume bottle.
Until Petunia picks it up, and it reads, Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Love Potion. Three drops a day and love is here to stay!
She wants to drop the bottle and run from the room. What is she doing in here, anyway? She doesn’t want to have anything to do with her freak sister and her freak school. Petunia has Vernon now, and she will have a lovely life with him; a nice, normal, respectable life. She shouldn’t be in here. Her hand trembles on the little vial, and her fingers move over it anxiously, as though she is waiting for it to burn her.
It sits there innocently in her palm, the pink liquid catching the sun and dazzling her eyes.
Before she can hesitate or think any more on it, Petunia has hurried from the room with the love potion hidden inside her fist.
-
-
A week later, Lily has brought James over for tea. Petunia is out on the patio with Vernon when he arrives, the two of them discussing his future with Grunnings, the company he has an internship for now. Petunia is wearing new pearls and her best dress, and she has spent the whole morning working her blonde hair into tight, bobbing curls, like Marilyn Monroe. She waits for Vernon to compliment her, but he never does.
“I’ve just got make the right impression,” he was stressing to Petunia, his meaty hands waving in the air while he sipped a brandy. He knows that she doesn’t approve of him drinking before five, but he never listens to her. “They’ve got to know I’m a respectable man, you know. Appearances are so important.”
She can’t agree more with his statement, but her response is a mere, “Hmm.” Petunia rests one hand on her chin and gazes out over the yard, tipping her head so that her new earrings will stand out. She wants him to say something nice about her.
That is when Lily and James step out, her sister looking irritatingly stunning in a light blue sundress and her hair falling perfectly around her shoulders. With James, the attractive, although untidy-looking man she was set to marry, on her arm, Lily looks like she belongs in a spread right out of one of Petunia’s fashion magazines. She feels a strong surge of jealousy, but can’t look away, and she feels the love potion burning a hole in her dress pocket. She has kept it on her person ever since she stole it, too afraid that Lily or her parents would find it.
“Hello, Tuney,” says Lily cautiously, her hand in James’. It’s her left hand. Petunia’s eyes land on the massive diamond sparkling on her ring finger, and can’t help comparing it to her own. Lily’s diamond is at least twice the size of the one Vernon bought for her. The jealousy curls up through her belly, suffusing her entire body. Of course, Lily has to outshine her in absolutely every way, even when it comes to normal things like marriage. Petunia had gotten engaged first, but Lily had not been far behind her, even though she is two years younger. Her boyfriend is perfect, as far as Petunia can tell. A freak like Lily, perhaps, but even Petunia can tell that James is otherwise the kind of boy that any mother would want their daughter to bring home. He is charming, charismatic, handsome, and from what she can tell, entirely devoted to Lily.
James is looking like he wants to be anywhere else but there. He doesn’t look at Petunia or Vernon. Lily glances at him and gives his hand a tug. “James came to apologize for the other night,” she says.
The other night is when James met Petunia and Vernon for the first time. The four of them had met for dinner at a nice little café, where they’d eaten outside under a lovely little canopy while the sound of a violin drifted out to them from inside. Things hadn’t even started out on a good note between them, however, because of how anxious Petunia had been for Vernon to just accept her sister and because of the judgments he had passed on James and Lily before he’d even met them. But James hadn’t helped matters by antagonizing Vernon when they’d started talking about their respective jobs and futures. James, apparently, does not have any kind of job at all, which only mortified Petunia when she heard. He had tried to explain about some load of gold he had, but Vernon had leapt down his throat after that. The evening had ended badly, with Lily in tears and Petunia shrieking at her sister for ruining everything. Like always.
Petunia scowls at her sister, fully prepared to ignore her and go back to discussing Grunnings with Vernon, but James suddenly clears his throat and Petunia’s eyes jerk to him. He’s looking right at her.
“Look, I just wanted to say what I said the other night was out of line,” he says. “Sometimes I can’t help myself; Lily will tell you I used to be a huge prat.” He grins sheepishly, and behind his glasses his eyes are a bit playful. “So, I’m sorry. Can we maybe start over? Since, you know, we’re going to be family and everything.”
It’s a simple apology, but Petunia is surprisingly ready to accept it. The words are on her tongue, but she can’t make herself say them. It’s irritating her that all he has to do is smile and say a few cheap words that probably don’t mean anything, and all she wants to do is smile at him and have him like her. Because she doesn’t like him, after all, he’s just a freak like her sister, and not worth her time. But now she looks to Vernon, wondering if James just has this effect on everyone.
He doesn’t.
Vernon is getting very red in the face and only looks angrier than he did the other night. One of his meaty hands grips the edge of the table so hard that Petunia sees his knuckles turn white. “I’m sorry, but I will not accept any apologies from your kind,” he spits, and Lily’s face becomes even paler than it usually is. James’ pleasant demeanor changes instantly. “I do not want to reconcile. I will not be associated with anyone who walks around wearing silly robes and waving around a bit of stick.”
It really is ridiculous, Petunia thinks, what her sister does. And from the sounds of things, her fiancée-no matter how handsome and well-cared-for he appeared-will not be able to provide for her long term. Not like Vernon can. She touches his big arm suddenly, feeling silly for being so jealous of Lily’s engagement. She got the better pick, this time.
She turns back in time to see her sister’s dress whirling and her red hair flying as she spins on her heel and walks back into the house, followed closely by James. Petunia wonders if she’s crying again, and ignores the light stabbing sensation she feels in her stomach at this thought. She tamps down on it, though, because Lily is not the little sister that Petunia grew up with anymore. The world she chose has changed her, and Petunia doesn’t recognize what she’s become.
That’s what she tells herself, anyway, but in her pocket she can feel the love potion pressed against her skin.
-
-
It’s another week before Petunia is standing in her kitchen before four cups of tea, holding the love potion in one trembling hand. She stares down at the innocent, steaming cups, waiting to be brought out to her fiancée, Lily, and James. After her mother had found out about the incident last week, she had forced them all to get together again and try and work things out. Marie Evans does not like having any kind of tension in her family.
Vernon has not kissed her in four days. He rarely touches her, and when he does his hands are slightly sweaty and clumsy on her body. She has spent the last half hour nosily watching James and Lily together, observing their every movement. He touches her frequently: around the waist, on the hand, to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. Earlier that day, she had spied on them in the kitchens when they thought they were alone and had seen the two of them kissing. It looked the way it did in movies. Perfect, passionate.
Vernon never makes her feel like that. But he can, she thinks, maybe.
Petunia still believes in magic, even though she has spent the last nine years trying to convince herself otherwise. Vernon is helping-he doesn’t believe in anything that isn’t sensible and grounded in fact-but every time her sister comes home she is reminded of a world parallel to her own, one that she can never be part of, a world that seems too wonderful to truly exist. Yet somehow it does, because she’s seen Lily do magic before. It’s real, and she’s holding it in her hand.
Before she has a chance to hesitate again, the bottle is upended into one of the cups of tea. For a moment, the liquid swirls dark pink, and Petunia is afraid at first that Vernon will be able to tell, but then it clears and returns to its natural color. She keeps her eyes locked on the cup as she loads them all onto a tray and carries them out to everyone.
It has been an awkward, quiet lunch. When she comes out of the kitchen, no one is speaking, although James has his head bent close to Lily’s ear and appears to be whispering something to her. Petunia can’t help glaring as she passes out their tea-making sure Vernon gets the one spiked with love potion-and takes her seat again.
“Drink up,” she says, unable to resist a smile, “it’s nice and hot.”
-
-
Three days later, Vernon hasn’t changed and Petunia has a hard time hiding her disappointment. He’s at work for the day, and she is curled up on the couch watching a documentary on Jackie Kennedy while taking pills for the cramps that just started that morning. Lily has gone off to God-knows-where, and her mother and father are doing some shopping in London. It’s just her in the house and she’s not expecting company, which is why she jumps a mile when someone knocks on the front door loudly.
Pulling her blanket cautiously about her body, Petunia tries to see who it is through the window. It’s someone tall, with dark hair. A man. Her sister’s bloody fiancée.
He must not know that Lily isn’t here.
Irritably, she yanks open the door, not even thinking about the fact that she’s in her pajamas and her hair is still in curlers. “What do you want?” she demands nastily, wrinkling her nose up at him. He looks as carelessly handsome as ever, and he’s holding a massive bouquet of flowers that obscures most of his face. They’re petunias, actually. She knits her brows. What is he playing at? “Looking for Lily, I expect? Well, she’s not here, so you can go away.”
“What?” he looks confused, and Petunia raises an eyebrow. “No, I’m not here for Lily. I’m here for you. See? Petunias.” He pushes them into her face, and pollen flies up her nose, making her sneeze.
“What is this, some kind of joke?” she asks, pushing the flowers away. “It’s not funny. Go away!”
He looks crushed, which only confuses her more. “You don’t like them?” he asks, looking at the bouquet. “You seemed like the kind of girl who would like getting flowers from a bloke.”
“From my fiancée, maybe,” she says, crossing her arms. “Which, in case you haven’t noticed, is not you. In fact, I seem to recall you having a fiancée of your own. You know, my sister? Pretty, perfect, everyone-loves-me Lily?”
She’s not bitter, not at all.
James just stares at her. “I came to see you,” he repeats, and the eyes behind his glasses are round and sincere. “I’ve been thinking about you for days.”
Petunia wants to slap herself. Surely this is just some bizarre dream. “Have you taken drugs or something? Are you high?”
“Not at all,” he says cheerfully, still brandishing the flowers. “I think you’re gorgeous, and I want to take you out. What do you think?”
Petunia’s first thought is that no one, not even Vernon, has ever called her gorgeous before.
Then she is yanking James into the house, closing the door behind her, and prodding him into the living room. She keeps her blanket pulled closely around her to hide her polka-dot pajamas. James smiles at her, in that charming kind of way he usually reserves for Lily, and it takes a surprising amount of effort for her to keep glaring at him.
“All right, what’s the deal? I know you can’t have possibly forgotten her, so what’s happened? Did that stupid little stick of yours backfire on you or something?” She points to his wand, which is sticking out of his back pocket. He glances down once and then shakes his head, smiling.
“I haven’t forgotten her. Lily is beautiful too, and she’s wonderful, but…I’ve finally realized what I want.”
The line is like something out a black-and-white film, but Petunia falls for every word.
“What do you mean?” she asks, and her voice has lost some of its hostility due to the picking up of her heartbeat.
He takes a few steps closer, his eyes drawing hers like magnets. It’s not fair how he can root her to the spot like that, how he can make her temperature rise without even trying. And she still doesn’t understand why he’s acting like-
--Oh.
The love potion.
That hadn’t been Vernon’s cup.
Petunia trembles.
“Let me take you out,” he repeats, “and I’ll show you what I mean.”
-
-
And that’s how Petunia is introduced to the Wizarding world.
James pulls her out the house before she has time to do anything more than at least put on a dress, and she’s still pulling curlers out when they walk out the door. Before Petunia can even ask him where they’re going, he grabs her wrist and reels her into his arms. Her hands flatten against his chest, and it’s hard, smooth, so unlike Vernon’s. She opens her mouth to say something, but suddenly the world is compressing around her, and she shrieks--what the devil is happening--but her voice is stuck in her throat and all she can do is close her eyes and cling to him as she feels her feet leave the ground. A second later it all stops, and Petunia feels her stomach heave. She swallows down the vomit that surges up her throat and looks up at James, still dizzy.
And then, she realizes that they are in a completely different place.
The dizziness passes slowly, and Petunia looks around, stepping away from James. They are in a massive grassy field, with no trees, houses, streets, or anything from where she can see. “But how…” She searches for words; whatever just happened seems to have scrambled her brain. “How did we get here?”
“Apparition, darling,” says James with a wink, and Petunia flushes. That’s what he usually calls her sister. “This is my parents’ estate.”
“You live here?” she gapes, looking around again as if expecting a house to appear out of thin air. “But I don’t see-“
“It’s about 3 kilometers that way,” says James, pointing. “They have quite a bit of property. My dad bought extra after I was born so that he could teach me how to play Quidditch out here.”
Petunia inserts one finger in her ear and twists. “I’m sorry, teach you how to play what?” What kind of rubbish word is Quidditch?
“Quidditch. It’s the best sport there is,” says James with a grin. “See over there?” He steps close and points just past her ear, off to the northeast. Petunia squints. “Those three hoops, those are the goals. My dad had them made for us. We started playing when I was five years old.”
“I don’t understand,” Petunia says. “What are they for? What kind of sport is it?”
He grin becomes impossibly wider, and he pulls that stick thing out his pocket-his wand or whatever-and calls out another nonsense word. Nothing happens. She stares at him, and after a long moment she starts to ask what in hell he was doing, but suddenly she hears a whooshing sound coming from nearby. She looks all around, and finally sees a broom flying in midair, right into James’ outstretched hand. She blinks.
“Bloody good trick.”
“It’s not a trick,” says James. “Magic. Come on.”
She raises an eyebrow. “What? Come on where?”
“Here, darling!” He gets astride the broom, winking as he does so (and making Petunia flush all over again), and gestures to the space behind him. “In front or in back, whichever you prefer.”
“W-what-you mean you want me to ride that thing?”
“Of course. What did you think I was asking?”
“But-“ Her mouth works. What if someone is around? What if someone finds her? What if Lily finds her?
“It’s not going to hurt you,” James insists. “Do you think I would let you fall?”
There is such tenderness in his voice, and Petunia is so weak-willed when it comes to special attention that she has little trouble believing him. “What are we going to do?” she asks cautiously, taking a few steps closer.
He yanks her on behind him before she can even think to react and she gives a little yelp. “Hold on!” he calls, before shooting off into the air.
Petunia almost throws up again as they lurch forward, and all she can do is grab onto James’ middle and shriek as he takes them higher and higher, the wind flattening her hair against her head. She doesn’t dare look down, because she’s been scared of heights since she was a little girl-since Lily accidentally magicked her into a tree, as a matter of fact. Petunia had cried for a total of five minutes before her mother had found her and rescued her, but those five minutes had been the most agonizing in her entire young life. She closes her eyes and hides her face in James’ back, wishing the motion would stop.
And then, it does.
Slowly, Petunia opens her eyes.
The world is spread below them like a map, and she wonders just how much of England she’s taking in at that moment. She can see as far as the coast-where are they, anyway?-and the countryside is dotted with little houses and a few farms. Wherever they are, it is certainly a great deal further than London, and it’s possibly the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Her parents had never taken them traveling much, just trips to the beach every summer, really. She’s never been to the country. All she knows is city smog and cloudy sky.
James is looking back at her with a knowing smirk on his face, but behind the smirk is fascination and affection. He twists-Petunia shrieks again as the broom wobbles-and pushes a windblown strand of hair away from her face. She blushes and suddenly forgets all about heights.
“I want to explain Quidditch to you,” says James softly. “I want to explain everything to you-would you let me?”
“What about Lily?” asks Petunia immediately, biting down on her lower lip.
He shakes his head. “I told you, I just realized what I want. If you don’t want me too, just say so.”
Petunia opens and closes her mouth a few times, but can’t find the words to refuse him.
“Good,” says James, and leans in to kiss her.
-
-
Lily finds out, of course. When James takes her home her sister is there, waiting, and Petunia underestimates Lily’s intelligence; the redhead knows right away what has happened. And she’s angry, of course.
“Why did you do it?” she asks, as she leads James into the house and sits him on the couch. “We’re getting married!”
“I know!” says Petunia defensively. “I meant to put it in Vernon’s cup, all right? You think I wanted your freak boyfriend hanging all over me?”
It’s half-true, at least.
“Lily, I’m sorry,” says James, and the girls’ attention snaps to him. “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize it sooner, okay? Please don’t fight. We can work this out.”
Lily looks very much like she wants to slap him. Petunia, on the other hand, is wanting very much to kiss him again. No boy has ever fought over her before.
“James, just sit here and behave, all right? Tuney, you watch him-and don’t touch him, all right?” She says this as though she knows about the kiss, and Petunia’s hand flies to her lips of her own accord.
That seems to confirm Lily’s suspicions, if she was even having them, and she gets a slightly hurt look in her eyes before whirling around and flouncing off.
It takes her over an hour to find an antidote; apparently she orders it from some shop, but her explanation is nonsense to Petunia. James doesn’t touch her as he was commanded, and Petunia wonders if the love potion wore off of its own accord, and he’s back to being devoted to her sister.
“James?” she says tentatively, minutes before Lily comes back downstairs.
“Yes?” he replies, and when he looks at her she knows some of the potion remains. She takes a deep breath.
“Will you remember this after she…fixes you?”
He blinks. “Remember what?”
Petunia’s heart momentarily fails.
A second later Lily comes down with a small, red vial in her hand, and she’s tipping it down James’ throat in no time at all. “It’s all right, it’s worn off,” says Petunia dully, but it’s too late. The remaining glow in James’ eyes fades and he blinks several times before finally focusing on Lily.
“Feeling better?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Do you remember-no, never mind, I don’t want to know.”
He’s confused for a moment, and he asks her questions that she refuses to answer. They’re all questions that Petunia has answers to, but she doesn’t dare speak up. James is back to pretending she doesn’t exist, so she will do the same.
-
-
The kiss haunts her for years afterwards, even after her sister has married him and he has forgotten all about the love potion. Even after they are both killed by some Lord Thingy and she opens her doorstep to find their son on it. She remembers it almost every day as she watches Harry grow up to look exactly like his father.
She would never get a kiss like that from Vernon. But Petunia learns to resign herself to life without love, after awhile. She has Dudley, who she thinks appreciates her more than Vernon does, and she can take out her bitterness on Harry.
After the love potion, Petunia only hates magic with a renewed passion. And she never believes in it, ever again.
fin
Author: perilousgard
Pairing: James/Petunia
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4,128
Prompt: 33. James/Petunia. At her sister's hen night, Lily receives a joke gift: a love potion. Petunia doesn't believe in these things, of course--of course, she doesn't. But she can't help but to wonder what would happen if she put just a few drops into Vernon Dursley's tea when he comes for Sunday dinner. That was Vernon's cup....wasn't it?
Warnings: None.
Summary: Exactly as the prompt says. Petunia has to deal with the consequences of a love potioned James for a day!
Author's Notes: The way the prompt was written was actually a little confusing to me, so I may have changed a few details around.
Smoke and Mirrors
“Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes... just be an illusion.”
Petunia spies the small, pink bottle sitting on Lily’s dresser two days after her hen night, only one of many things that is just not normal about her sister’s room. She can’t explain the feeling that draws her here today, when Lily is out celebrating her engagement with that boy….that wizard. The word sticks in her mind like a nasty swear. Petunia thinks her curiosity about her sister’s world died long ago, when they were still just children and Lily was making flowers bloom or disappearing out of thin air and ending up on the roof, or once-and this had made Petunia laugh at the time-even pelting their mean old history teacher Mrs. Crabtree with erasers.
But something about the objects in Lily’s room, and the powers they exuded that Petunia will never be able to harness, draw her in like a bee to honey.
A trunk is open at the foot of Lily’s bed, overflowing with sets of robes, wizarding sweets, frog spawn and whatever else it is that she brings home, and there is a broom propped up against her closet door that probably flies, but her attention is caught completely by the little pink vial on her dresser. She doesn’t know why-pink is her favorite color, but it’s just a little thing. Probably only a perfume bottle.
Until Petunia picks it up, and it reads, Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Love Potion. Three drops a day and love is here to stay!
She wants to drop the bottle and run from the room. What is she doing in here, anyway? She doesn’t want to have anything to do with her freak sister and her freak school. Petunia has Vernon now, and she will have a lovely life with him; a nice, normal, respectable life. She shouldn’t be in here. Her hand trembles on the little vial, and her fingers move over it anxiously, as though she is waiting for it to burn her.
It sits there innocently in her palm, the pink liquid catching the sun and dazzling her eyes.
Before she can hesitate or think any more on it, Petunia has hurried from the room with the love potion hidden inside her fist.
-
-
A week later, Lily has brought James over for tea. Petunia is out on the patio with Vernon when he arrives, the two of them discussing his future with Grunnings, the company he has an internship for now. Petunia is wearing new pearls and her best dress, and she has spent the whole morning working her blonde hair into tight, bobbing curls, like Marilyn Monroe. She waits for Vernon to compliment her, but he never does.
“I’ve just got make the right impression,” he was stressing to Petunia, his meaty hands waving in the air while he sipped a brandy. He knows that she doesn’t approve of him drinking before five, but he never listens to her. “They’ve got to know I’m a respectable man, you know. Appearances are so important.”
She can’t agree more with his statement, but her response is a mere, “Hmm.” Petunia rests one hand on her chin and gazes out over the yard, tipping her head so that her new earrings will stand out. She wants him to say something nice about her.
That is when Lily and James step out, her sister looking irritatingly stunning in a light blue sundress and her hair falling perfectly around her shoulders. With James, the attractive, although untidy-looking man she was set to marry, on her arm, Lily looks like she belongs in a spread right out of one of Petunia’s fashion magazines. She feels a strong surge of jealousy, but can’t look away, and she feels the love potion burning a hole in her dress pocket. She has kept it on her person ever since she stole it, too afraid that Lily or her parents would find it.
“Hello, Tuney,” says Lily cautiously, her hand in James’. It’s her left hand. Petunia’s eyes land on the massive diamond sparkling on her ring finger, and can’t help comparing it to her own. Lily’s diamond is at least twice the size of the one Vernon bought for her. The jealousy curls up through her belly, suffusing her entire body. Of course, Lily has to outshine her in absolutely every way, even when it comes to normal things like marriage. Petunia had gotten engaged first, but Lily had not been far behind her, even though she is two years younger. Her boyfriend is perfect, as far as Petunia can tell. A freak like Lily, perhaps, but even Petunia can tell that James is otherwise the kind of boy that any mother would want their daughter to bring home. He is charming, charismatic, handsome, and from what she can tell, entirely devoted to Lily.
James is looking like he wants to be anywhere else but there. He doesn’t look at Petunia or Vernon. Lily glances at him and gives his hand a tug. “James came to apologize for the other night,” she says.
The other night is when James met Petunia and Vernon for the first time. The four of them had met for dinner at a nice little café, where they’d eaten outside under a lovely little canopy while the sound of a violin drifted out to them from inside. Things hadn’t even started out on a good note between them, however, because of how anxious Petunia had been for Vernon to just accept her sister and because of the judgments he had passed on James and Lily before he’d even met them. But James hadn’t helped matters by antagonizing Vernon when they’d started talking about their respective jobs and futures. James, apparently, does not have any kind of job at all, which only mortified Petunia when she heard. He had tried to explain about some load of gold he had, but Vernon had leapt down his throat after that. The evening had ended badly, with Lily in tears and Petunia shrieking at her sister for ruining everything. Like always.
Petunia scowls at her sister, fully prepared to ignore her and go back to discussing Grunnings with Vernon, but James suddenly clears his throat and Petunia’s eyes jerk to him. He’s looking right at her.
“Look, I just wanted to say what I said the other night was out of line,” he says. “Sometimes I can’t help myself; Lily will tell you I used to be a huge prat.” He grins sheepishly, and behind his glasses his eyes are a bit playful. “So, I’m sorry. Can we maybe start over? Since, you know, we’re going to be family and everything.”
It’s a simple apology, but Petunia is surprisingly ready to accept it. The words are on her tongue, but she can’t make herself say them. It’s irritating her that all he has to do is smile and say a few cheap words that probably don’t mean anything, and all she wants to do is smile at him and have him like her. Because she doesn’t like him, after all, he’s just a freak like her sister, and not worth her time. But now she looks to Vernon, wondering if James just has this effect on everyone.
He doesn’t.
Vernon is getting very red in the face and only looks angrier than he did the other night. One of his meaty hands grips the edge of the table so hard that Petunia sees his knuckles turn white. “I’m sorry, but I will not accept any apologies from your kind,” he spits, and Lily’s face becomes even paler than it usually is. James’ pleasant demeanor changes instantly. “I do not want to reconcile. I will not be associated with anyone who walks around wearing silly robes and waving around a bit of stick.”
It really is ridiculous, Petunia thinks, what her sister does. And from the sounds of things, her fiancée-no matter how handsome and well-cared-for he appeared-will not be able to provide for her long term. Not like Vernon can. She touches his big arm suddenly, feeling silly for being so jealous of Lily’s engagement. She got the better pick, this time.
She turns back in time to see her sister’s dress whirling and her red hair flying as she spins on her heel and walks back into the house, followed closely by James. Petunia wonders if she’s crying again, and ignores the light stabbing sensation she feels in her stomach at this thought. She tamps down on it, though, because Lily is not the little sister that Petunia grew up with anymore. The world she chose has changed her, and Petunia doesn’t recognize what she’s become.
That’s what she tells herself, anyway, but in her pocket she can feel the love potion pressed against her skin.
-
-
It’s another week before Petunia is standing in her kitchen before four cups of tea, holding the love potion in one trembling hand. She stares down at the innocent, steaming cups, waiting to be brought out to her fiancée, Lily, and James. After her mother had found out about the incident last week, she had forced them all to get together again and try and work things out. Marie Evans does not like having any kind of tension in her family.
Vernon has not kissed her in four days. He rarely touches her, and when he does his hands are slightly sweaty and clumsy on her body. She has spent the last half hour nosily watching James and Lily together, observing their every movement. He touches her frequently: around the waist, on the hand, to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. Earlier that day, she had spied on them in the kitchens when they thought they were alone and had seen the two of them kissing. It looked the way it did in movies. Perfect, passionate.
Vernon never makes her feel like that. But he can, she thinks, maybe.
Petunia still believes in magic, even though she has spent the last nine years trying to convince herself otherwise. Vernon is helping-he doesn’t believe in anything that isn’t sensible and grounded in fact-but every time her sister comes home she is reminded of a world parallel to her own, one that she can never be part of, a world that seems too wonderful to truly exist. Yet somehow it does, because she’s seen Lily do magic before. It’s real, and she’s holding it in her hand.
Before she has a chance to hesitate again, the bottle is upended into one of the cups of tea. For a moment, the liquid swirls dark pink, and Petunia is afraid at first that Vernon will be able to tell, but then it clears and returns to its natural color. She keeps her eyes locked on the cup as she loads them all onto a tray and carries them out to everyone.
It has been an awkward, quiet lunch. When she comes out of the kitchen, no one is speaking, although James has his head bent close to Lily’s ear and appears to be whispering something to her. Petunia can’t help glaring as she passes out their tea-making sure Vernon gets the one spiked with love potion-and takes her seat again.
“Drink up,” she says, unable to resist a smile, “it’s nice and hot.”
-
-
Three days later, Vernon hasn’t changed and Petunia has a hard time hiding her disappointment. He’s at work for the day, and she is curled up on the couch watching a documentary on Jackie Kennedy while taking pills for the cramps that just started that morning. Lily has gone off to God-knows-where, and her mother and father are doing some shopping in London. It’s just her in the house and she’s not expecting company, which is why she jumps a mile when someone knocks on the front door loudly.
Pulling her blanket cautiously about her body, Petunia tries to see who it is through the window. It’s someone tall, with dark hair. A man. Her sister’s bloody fiancée.
He must not know that Lily isn’t here.
Irritably, she yanks open the door, not even thinking about the fact that she’s in her pajamas and her hair is still in curlers. “What do you want?” she demands nastily, wrinkling her nose up at him. He looks as carelessly handsome as ever, and he’s holding a massive bouquet of flowers that obscures most of his face. They’re petunias, actually. She knits her brows. What is he playing at? “Looking for Lily, I expect? Well, she’s not here, so you can go away.”
“What?” he looks confused, and Petunia raises an eyebrow. “No, I’m not here for Lily. I’m here for you. See? Petunias.” He pushes them into her face, and pollen flies up her nose, making her sneeze.
“What is this, some kind of joke?” she asks, pushing the flowers away. “It’s not funny. Go away!”
He looks crushed, which only confuses her more. “You don’t like them?” he asks, looking at the bouquet. “You seemed like the kind of girl who would like getting flowers from a bloke.”
“From my fiancée, maybe,” she says, crossing her arms. “Which, in case you haven’t noticed, is not you. In fact, I seem to recall you having a fiancée of your own. You know, my sister? Pretty, perfect, everyone-loves-me Lily?”
She’s not bitter, not at all.
James just stares at her. “I came to see you,” he repeats, and the eyes behind his glasses are round and sincere. “I’ve been thinking about you for days.”
Petunia wants to slap herself. Surely this is just some bizarre dream. “Have you taken drugs or something? Are you high?”
“Not at all,” he says cheerfully, still brandishing the flowers. “I think you’re gorgeous, and I want to take you out. What do you think?”
Petunia’s first thought is that no one, not even Vernon, has ever called her gorgeous before.
Then she is yanking James into the house, closing the door behind her, and prodding him into the living room. She keeps her blanket pulled closely around her to hide her polka-dot pajamas. James smiles at her, in that charming kind of way he usually reserves for Lily, and it takes a surprising amount of effort for her to keep glaring at him.
“All right, what’s the deal? I know you can’t have possibly forgotten her, so what’s happened? Did that stupid little stick of yours backfire on you or something?” She points to his wand, which is sticking out of his back pocket. He glances down once and then shakes his head, smiling.
“I haven’t forgotten her. Lily is beautiful too, and she’s wonderful, but…I’ve finally realized what I want.”
The line is like something out a black-and-white film, but Petunia falls for every word.
“What do you mean?” she asks, and her voice has lost some of its hostility due to the picking up of her heartbeat.
He takes a few steps closer, his eyes drawing hers like magnets. It’s not fair how he can root her to the spot like that, how he can make her temperature rise without even trying. And she still doesn’t understand why he’s acting like-
--Oh.
The love potion.
That hadn’t been Vernon’s cup.
Petunia trembles.
“Let me take you out,” he repeats, “and I’ll show you what I mean.”
-
-
And that’s how Petunia is introduced to the Wizarding world.
James pulls her out the house before she has time to do anything more than at least put on a dress, and she’s still pulling curlers out when they walk out the door. Before Petunia can even ask him where they’re going, he grabs her wrist and reels her into his arms. Her hands flatten against his chest, and it’s hard, smooth, so unlike Vernon’s. She opens her mouth to say something, but suddenly the world is compressing around her, and she shrieks--what the devil is happening--but her voice is stuck in her throat and all she can do is close her eyes and cling to him as she feels her feet leave the ground. A second later it all stops, and Petunia feels her stomach heave. She swallows down the vomit that surges up her throat and looks up at James, still dizzy.
And then, she realizes that they are in a completely different place.
The dizziness passes slowly, and Petunia looks around, stepping away from James. They are in a massive grassy field, with no trees, houses, streets, or anything from where she can see. “But how…” She searches for words; whatever just happened seems to have scrambled her brain. “How did we get here?”
“Apparition, darling,” says James with a wink, and Petunia flushes. That’s what he usually calls her sister. “This is my parents’ estate.”
“You live here?” she gapes, looking around again as if expecting a house to appear out of thin air. “But I don’t see-“
“It’s about 3 kilometers that way,” says James, pointing. “They have quite a bit of property. My dad bought extra after I was born so that he could teach me how to play Quidditch out here.”
Petunia inserts one finger in her ear and twists. “I’m sorry, teach you how to play what?” What kind of rubbish word is Quidditch?
“Quidditch. It’s the best sport there is,” says James with a grin. “See over there?” He steps close and points just past her ear, off to the northeast. Petunia squints. “Those three hoops, those are the goals. My dad had them made for us. We started playing when I was five years old.”
“I don’t understand,” Petunia says. “What are they for? What kind of sport is it?”
He grin becomes impossibly wider, and he pulls that stick thing out his pocket-his wand or whatever-and calls out another nonsense word. Nothing happens. She stares at him, and after a long moment she starts to ask what in hell he was doing, but suddenly she hears a whooshing sound coming from nearby. She looks all around, and finally sees a broom flying in midair, right into James’ outstretched hand. She blinks.
“Bloody good trick.”
“It’s not a trick,” says James. “Magic. Come on.”
She raises an eyebrow. “What? Come on where?”
“Here, darling!” He gets astride the broom, winking as he does so (and making Petunia flush all over again), and gestures to the space behind him. “In front or in back, whichever you prefer.”
“W-what-you mean you want me to ride that thing?”
“Of course. What did you think I was asking?”
“But-“ Her mouth works. What if someone is around? What if someone finds her? What if Lily finds her?
“It’s not going to hurt you,” James insists. “Do you think I would let you fall?”
There is such tenderness in his voice, and Petunia is so weak-willed when it comes to special attention that she has little trouble believing him. “What are we going to do?” she asks cautiously, taking a few steps closer.
He yanks her on behind him before she can even think to react and she gives a little yelp. “Hold on!” he calls, before shooting off into the air.
Petunia almost throws up again as they lurch forward, and all she can do is grab onto James’ middle and shriek as he takes them higher and higher, the wind flattening her hair against her head. She doesn’t dare look down, because she’s been scared of heights since she was a little girl-since Lily accidentally magicked her into a tree, as a matter of fact. Petunia had cried for a total of five minutes before her mother had found her and rescued her, but those five minutes had been the most agonizing in her entire young life. She closes her eyes and hides her face in James’ back, wishing the motion would stop.
And then, it does.
Slowly, Petunia opens her eyes.
The world is spread below them like a map, and she wonders just how much of England she’s taking in at that moment. She can see as far as the coast-where are they, anyway?-and the countryside is dotted with little houses and a few farms. Wherever they are, it is certainly a great deal further than London, and it’s possibly the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Her parents had never taken them traveling much, just trips to the beach every summer, really. She’s never been to the country. All she knows is city smog and cloudy sky.
James is looking back at her with a knowing smirk on his face, but behind the smirk is fascination and affection. He twists-Petunia shrieks again as the broom wobbles-and pushes a windblown strand of hair away from her face. She blushes and suddenly forgets all about heights.
“I want to explain Quidditch to you,” says James softly. “I want to explain everything to you-would you let me?”
“What about Lily?” asks Petunia immediately, biting down on her lower lip.
He shakes his head. “I told you, I just realized what I want. If you don’t want me too, just say so.”
Petunia opens and closes her mouth a few times, but can’t find the words to refuse him.
“Good,” says James, and leans in to kiss her.
-
-
Lily finds out, of course. When James takes her home her sister is there, waiting, and Petunia underestimates Lily’s intelligence; the redhead knows right away what has happened. And she’s angry, of course.
“Why did you do it?” she asks, as she leads James into the house and sits him on the couch. “We’re getting married!”
“I know!” says Petunia defensively. “I meant to put it in Vernon’s cup, all right? You think I wanted your freak boyfriend hanging all over me?”
It’s half-true, at least.
“Lily, I’m sorry,” says James, and the girls’ attention snaps to him. “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize it sooner, okay? Please don’t fight. We can work this out.”
Lily looks very much like she wants to slap him. Petunia, on the other hand, is wanting very much to kiss him again. No boy has ever fought over her before.
“James, just sit here and behave, all right? Tuney, you watch him-and don’t touch him, all right?” She says this as though she knows about the kiss, and Petunia’s hand flies to her lips of her own accord.
That seems to confirm Lily’s suspicions, if she was even having them, and she gets a slightly hurt look in her eyes before whirling around and flouncing off.
It takes her over an hour to find an antidote; apparently she orders it from some shop, but her explanation is nonsense to Petunia. James doesn’t touch her as he was commanded, and Petunia wonders if the love potion wore off of its own accord, and he’s back to being devoted to her sister.
“James?” she says tentatively, minutes before Lily comes back downstairs.
“Yes?” he replies, and when he looks at her she knows some of the potion remains. She takes a deep breath.
“Will you remember this after she…fixes you?”
He blinks. “Remember what?”
Petunia’s heart momentarily fails.
A second later Lily comes down with a small, red vial in her hand, and she’s tipping it down James’ throat in no time at all. “It’s all right, it’s worn off,” says Petunia dully, but it’s too late. The remaining glow in James’ eyes fades and he blinks several times before finally focusing on Lily.
“Feeling better?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Do you remember-no, never mind, I don’t want to know.”
He’s confused for a moment, and he asks her questions that she refuses to answer. They’re all questions that Petunia has answers to, but she doesn’t dare speak up. James is back to pretending she doesn’t exist, so she will do the same.
-
-
The kiss haunts her for years afterwards, even after her sister has married him and he has forgotten all about the love potion. Even after they are both killed by some Lord Thingy and she opens her doorstep to find their son on it. She remembers it almost every day as she watches Harry grow up to look exactly like his father.
She would never get a kiss like that from Vernon. But Petunia learns to resign herself to life without love, after awhile. She has Dudley, who she thinks appreciates her more than Vernon does, and she can take out her bitterness on Harry.
After the love potion, Petunia only hates magic with a renewed passion. And she never believes in it, ever again.
fin