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Yvonne sensed life’s twisted sense of humor.
When Petunia broke up with Vernon, Yvonne had been a little surprised, but still managed to stay calm.
Now, learning that Petunia was pregnant, and that the father was Snape?
Staying calm was no longer an option.
That was Snape.
The Potions Master notorious for a razor-sharp tongue, the one whose mere name made students’ faces go pale!
The deeply devoted character who, in his final moments, made countless viewers weep with nothing more than the words “look at me”!
How could he possibly have any connection with Petunia?
This was simply beyond belief.
Could it be that the world Yvonne had transmigrated into wasn’t the original Harry Potter world full of magic and adventure, but rather some uniquely crafted Fanfiction Harry Potter spun by another author’s talented pen?
But this ship is pretty obscure, isn’t it.
Transmigrating through time and space was already as rare as a shooting star, Yvonne had never imagined such a thing would happen to her.
Even stranger, in this unfamiliar time and place, Yvonne had stumbled right into a rare, obscure couple.
A coincidence like this was harder to believe than winning the lottery jackpot.
Maybe Yvonne really should go buy a ticket, who knows, maybe another jaw-dropping surprise was waiting just around the corner.
Or perhaps all these changes had originated from the wingbeats of this one small butterfly.
Thinking it over, Yvonne hadn’t really done anything earth-shattering.
Nothing more than befriending Petunia, becoming close friends, and over tea and idle conversation, filling Petunia’s head with ideas and perspectives completely out of step with this era.
Yet Petunia had shown no obvious change and continued living the same life as before.
Yvonne had also spent free moments writing a few novels, reasonably well-received, and still fairly fresh for this era.
By this point, readers will surely have realized: Yvonne is a Transmigrator.
Only, Yvonne has no cheat-power shortcut, and only knows the main plot outline.
Many of the details remain unclear.
When Yvonne first woke in this life, Yvonne found herself lying in a bed at an orphanage.
With a physical age of only 9, Yvonne began stumbling through life in this strange new world.
At 9 years old, Yvonne met Petunia.
At first, Yvonne hadn’t paid the girl much attention, in England, girls named Petunia were simply too common.
But as Yvonne gradually grew closer to classmates, Petunia drifted into Yvonne’s field of view.
Through several careful tests, Yvonne finally confirmed Petunia’s identity: the very aunt of Harry Potter in the Harry Potter story.
The discovery sent Yvonne into a frenzy of excitement, feeling as though suddenly dropped inside an enormous surprise.
With a flicker of anticipation and subtle calculation, Yvonne accommodated and tolerated, and in time became Petunia’s closest, most inseparable friend.
Years passed.
Yvonne never managed to reach the central thread of that story, and the doubts and searching gradually settled, transforming into genuine warmth and cherishing of this friendship.
Yvonne no longer clung to those known plot points, but wholeheartedly shared the small moments of life alongside Petunia.
Perhaps the starting point of their friendship had been mixed with a degree of purpose and calculation.
But as time flowed on, those impurities had long since been swept away without a trace.
At this moment, though Yvonne’s feelings were difficult to put into words, Yvonne still gave every effort to thinking of what was best for Petunia.
“We might have three options.” Yvonne’s voice carried a thread of self-soothing composure, but if one listened closely, a trembling underneath it could not quite be hidden.
None of these subtle changes escaped Ruth’s sharp observation.
Ruth watched Yvonne and noticed that those usually unruffled eyes were now flickering with an unusual light.
Not the fire of anger that comes from fighting over a man.
Something closer to the shock and curiosity of someone who has stumbled upon something utterly bizarre.
“First, quietly terminate the pregnancy.
Second, stay single and carry the child to term.
Third, find that Snape and marry him.” “The first option worries me.” Petunia looked deeply concerned.
“I’m worried it could affect my health.” “Marry Snape?
Impossible — absolutely impossible!” Petunia waved her hands hastily, as if trying to nail that absurd idea to the wall of reality.
How could Petunia possibly spend a lifetime with someone as dark and strange as Snape?
That was even more terrifying than being made to face a vicious wolf.
Petunia pictured his perpetually gloomy face, those eyes that seemed to see straight through everything, and felt uncomfortable all over.
“Why?
Weren’t you thinking about him constantly, pining for him day and night?” Ruth tilted her head slightly, bright wide eyes flickering with curiosity and concern.
“Why not try to win this man over?
You know, Yvonne has a solid foundation in theory.
And I have plenty of practical experience.
We can give you a great deal of useful advice.” Petunia’s face went completely constipated.
Petunia didn’t know how to bring this up with her friends.
It seemed like Snape harbored some kind of unspoken feeling toward Petunia’s sister.
And the two of them ending up together had been the result of a chance encounter, on one hand, he seemed to regard Petunia as some kind of substitute for Lily; on the other, Petunia couldn’t help but admit that deep inside, there was an irrepressible craving for that man’s body.
To spend a whole lifetime with a man of that temperament.
This lifetime would be finished.
“It won’t work, it simply won’t work.” Petunia waved her hands anxiously, face written over with worry.
“His temper is like a volcano that could erupt at any moment.
And he loves to sneer and mock, words sharp enough to leave a person with nowhere to hide.
Marrying him would just be asking for suffering.
There’s no way it would ever be happy.” Ruth listened and let an expression of utter disbelief cross her face, shaking her head.
“Oh, Petunia.
Your taste really is unique in a way nobody can quite understand.
Do you actually have masochistic tendencies?” Petunia immediately got flustered.
“No — absolutely not.” “That time, I had the initiative firmly in my hands.
He was completely following my rhythm the whole way.
I was the one truly in control!” Petunia emphasized.
“But that sounds completely at odds with the personality you described earlier!” Ruth frowned slightly, doubt plain on her face.
“I can’t quite explain it either.” Petunia gave a small shake of her head, brow lightly furrowed.
“Who could have imagined he’d be like that that day — completely at my disposal, as if he’d turned into an obedient little puppy.” Petunia reached for the wine glass.
Yvonne snatched it away.
“Tsk tsk, tsk tsk, just look at that face of yours, red as a ripe apple again.
Savoring the memory of that passionate encounter with Mr.
Snape, are we?” Ruth blinked those mischievous eyes, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Sounds like you had quite a good time that day.
Snape really does have something going for him.” “Really not going to think about reeling him in?” Ruth pressed again.
The flush on Petunia’s cheeks grew even more obvious.
Petunia shot Ruth a glare.
“Stop talking nonsense, I didn’t enjoy anything.
And besides, with technique like that, he still needs me to teach him!” “A virgin at that age?
A rare specimen indeed.
All the more reason to grab onto him!” Ruth grew even more excited.
Yvonne picked up the wine glass and downed it in one go.
Good heavens.
Was this really the kind of thing Yvonne was supposed to know about?
Yvonne was still just a child, a baby with a psychological age of only forty-something, pure and fragile.
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