This day was the most important day of Lily’s life — her wedding.
The grand ceremony had been carefully arranged in a place called Godric’s Hollow.
Petunia had never heard the name before.
Yet the moment she set foot on that land, she couldn’t help but be drawn in by what lay before her.
The valley was lush and green, thick with the fragrance of flowers.
Sunlight filtered through gaps in the leaves and fell onto the ground in dappled patterns of light and shadow.
In the distance, mountains rose and dissolved into mist, like a painting.
Everything here felt peaceful and lovely, as though time itself had slowed down.
Following Mrs.
Evans, Petunia stepped into Lily’s dressing room.
Mrs.
Evans was with Lily, speaking the kind of quiet, intimate words shared before a wedding.
Since the night the two of them had talked things through, Petunia and Lily’s relationship had thawed — but years of distance meant their exchanges were still sparse and stilted.
Petunia wanted to say something.
She just didn’t know where to begin.
She also worried she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from saying unkind things about Potter, so she kept her mouth shut.
She sat quietly on the edge of the bed, her gaze drifting through the window to the crowd below.
Among the laughing, milling guests, one figure caught her attention.
A young man with dark, flowing hair.
He stood among the other men like a brilliant star in a night sky, his features sharp and refined, every detail carrying its own particular kind of charm.
Petunia found herself staring.
Her gaze fixed on him as if pulled by something she couldn’t name, and she couldn’t look away.
Then he seemed to feel it.
He turned his head and shot her a displeased glare.
Petunia’s heart clenched.
Guilt hit her immediately.
She snapped her head away, not daring to meet his eyes again.
The old Petunia would have stared right back.
Would have hit back with sharp words to make clear she wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
But right now, all she felt was an inexplicable guilt.
She knew the look she’d given him hadn’t been polite or innocent.
It was a gaze colored with something else entirely, as though she’d been trying to see through him.
She realized how improper it was.
More than improper.
A little offensive.
Petunia dropped her eyes to her feet, her chest heavy with self-reproach.
But she felt helpless, too.
She didn’t know when this had quietly taken root inside her, this interest in young men that had already grown beyond anything she could account for.
The physical longing spread like wildfire, urging her closer to them, pulling at her to close the distance entirely.
It filled her with shame.
As though something foul had seeped into her soul.
In the stillness of late nights, when everything around her went quiet, Petunia felt like a vessel brimming with filth, on the verge of spilling over.
— Just as she was drowning in guilt over sneaking glances at a handsome stranger, the wedding’s various small errands came to find her at exactly the right moment.
The busyness gave her a temporary reprieve from the torment her own body had been putting her through, and a chance to escape from herself.
The wedding proceeded on schedule, warm and festive.
And Petunia’s attention drifted, again, to the young men moving through the crowd.
She decided to redirect herself through other means: focus entirely on the Wizarding World pastries laid out across the tables, which were nothing like anything she normally ate.
She was absorbed in tasting them when a lilting melody struck up.
She startled, then understood, ah.
Time to dance.
In the cheerful, laughing scene around her, most of the young women had already found partners.
Arm in arm, they swept across the dance floor.
Petunia stood where she was, half-eaten slice of cake still in hand, looking rather out of place.
She glanced around and spotted Mrs.
Evans nearby, mid-conversation with someone.
She hurried over and said quietly, “Mum, I noticed some lovely flowers over there — I’d like to go have a closer look.” Mrs.
Evans turned and looked at Petunia, taking in the slightly anxious expression on her face, and seemed a little surprised.
Petunia didn’t wait for a response.
She turned and slipped away from the crowd, as if breaking free from a cage that had been pressing the air out of her lungs.
Once she’d put some distance between herself and the noise of the dance floor, she finally let out a breath.
The weight on her chest eased just a little.
She leaned against a large tree, closed her eyes, and drew in a long breath of fresh air.
Since arriving, she’d kept herself on constant high alert, terrified that her every move might draw someone’s notice.
She felt entirely out of place here.
And she was ashamed of the way her attention kept fixing itself on the young men around her.
➤ Next: Meeting Snape (1)