Petunia knew she shouldn’t feel this way.
But every time she caught sight of a handsome young man, her heart quickened without her permission.
She was caught in a constant tug-of-war between restraint and surrender, and the contradiction left her miserable.
Alone now, she could finally set it all aside for a moment and breathe.
She closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift on the breeze, as if she had stepped into a world that belonged entirely to her.
She moved through the undergrowth.
Branches rustled past her.
Insects chirped.
Birds called out somewhere overhead, a lively, living canvas of sound that asked nothing of her.
It didn’t last.
She came back to herself and realized she had wandered quite far.
On this unfamiliar stretch of land, that had been rather reckless of her.
She tried to recover her sense of direction.
The landscape only grew more foreign, as though she had walked into a maze.
She tried to retrace her steps.
Found she couldn’t clearly remember the way she had come.
Her heartbeat began to quicken.
She scanned her surroundings carefully, searching for any clue at all.
Then a figure caught her eye, tall, draped in a black cloak, barely visible among the layered thickets.
She walked quickly toward it.
“Hello, I’m terribly sorry to bother you.” Petunia slowed her pace when she was still a dozen steps away, her voice carrying a note of apology and nerves.
“I wanted to ask — which way is it to the Potters’?” The person turned at the sound of her voice.
His expression was stern, carrying a faint trace of displeasure.
His gaze rested on her for a moment, as if he were sizing up her intentions.
Petunia waited in silence, hands clasped tightly together, visibly ill at ease.
After a long pause, the man finally raised his arm and pointed.
Petunia followed the direction of his finger and could just make out the colorful wedding decorations in the distance, swaying gently in the breeze.
“Oh — so it’s that way.” She breathed out in relief.
She thanked him, turned, and headed off.
He had let his irritation show, the look of someone interrupted for no good reason, but decent enough, in the end.
Petunia quickened her steps toward the wedding.
And then the face kept surfacing.
The man who had given her directions.
That strange, inexplicable sense of familiarity washing over her like a tide.
She strained to recall, reaching for memory fragments blurred by years.
At last, that face lined up with another, one from childhood.
An unpleasant one.
Her heartbeat picked up on its own.
Is that him?!
Snape?!
Wasn’t he close with Lily?
Why isn’t he at the wedding?
Why is he lurking out here, watching?
She studied his expression and posture carefully.
Yes.
She was convinced he was spying.
She glanced back, and found herself unexpectedly meeting that pair of slightly vacant eyes.
Her heart lurched.
The embarrassment of being caught looking.
She hastily turned away and picked up her pace, trying to escape the reach of those eyes.
Wait, Snape must have had feelings for Lily once.
Is he hiding out here because he’s heartbroken?
Because the woman he loved has married someone else?
The corners of Petunia’s mouth curved up in a slow, satisfied smile.
She glanced back a second time.
Their eyes met.
She gloated with a mean little thrill.
Serves him right.
This wretched boy deserves to have no one love him.
Actually, he’s not a boy anymore.
Nothing else filled her mind now but the memories of being bullied by Snape.
A surge of vengeful fire rose inside her, impossible to hold back.
He hit me with a branch!
He peeked at the letter I wrote to Dumbledore!
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Let it pass, and she might never find another one like it for the rest of her life.
After all, a full six years had gone by since the last time she had crossed paths with Snape.
No one could say when she would see him again, let alone find his weak spot and take her revenge.
Her mind was made up.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she stopped, turned, and walked straight toward him.
She came to a stop in front of him.
The two looked at each other.
A flame of revenge lit her eyes as she prepared to make him pay, in her own way.
“Well, well.” Petunia tilted her chin up, arms folded lazily across her chest, a mocking smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
“If it isn’t the great and fearsome Mr.
Snape.
What’s this — reduced to hiding in a corner, sneaking peeks at my sister’s wedding?” Her tone dripped with satisfaction and contempt.
Snape said nothing.
He simply turned his head away, cold and unhurried, as if one more glance at Petunia would be enough to soil his eyes.
Petunia’s smile flickered.
She frowned.
“What’s the matter, Mr.
Snape, can’t bring yourself to say a single word?
Or do you think you look so pathetic right now that you can’t bear to face anyone?” ➤ Next: Meeting Snape (2)