. . . 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣?
𝗮 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽, 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗰𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝘂𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱'𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻, 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗻. 𝗶𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗮 𝗱𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗹𝗲𝘆. 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀.
(𝗰𝘄: 𝗮𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘃𝗲, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗹𝗲𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗱)
•——————•°•✿•°•——————•
it was a perfectly normal fall's morning—albeit chillier than expected. petunia had gotten up earlier than vernon, as usual, and set about her day preparing breakfast. when she left her kitchen to get the milk she needs to prepare her tea, she was understandably shocked by the sleeping baby on her doorstep. it had been a perfectly normal morning, after all.
she let out a shriek, calling for her husband and waking the baby (how it managed to get an ounce of rest when its only source of warmth was the blanket swaddled around it is beyond her). petunia looked back down, still unsure if the infant on her doorstep was really there, and it was then she noticed the excruciatingly familiar green eyes it had. lily's eyes.
milk forgotten, petunia carried the child in.
•——————•°•✿•°•——————•
"why would you shriek like tha— what is that?!" vernon asked, panting. the walk downstairs tended to do that to him.
"a baby. he was on our doorstep," petunia said, having checked for the baby's gender as soon as she shut the door. there was no doubt about it. she could just tell it was lily's child. he looked too much like that potter she married. "there's a letter," she added, shifting baby harry into her left arm and pulling out the wax-sealed envelope.
if this is her child, then she must be dead. there would be no other reason for her to leave her baby here.
vernon looked at the baby in her arms, and suddenly he softened. "we should keep him. with everything the doctor's— we might not have this chance again."
stupid, perfect, magical lily. even in the art of motherhood, she has me beat.
petunia wasn't sure what she wanted to find when she opened that letter. she recognized the writing almost immediately as dumbledore's— she never quite got over that embarrassment, after all. so, she knew, whatever it was, lily was not okay. and she had felt a sick sort of satisfaction at that realization— perfect, lovable lily had to rely on pathetic, pitiful petunia, the muggle. it was short-lived, however, because according to dumbledore, lily was murdered in her home. her sister's last living act had practically ensured that in petunia's house, her baby harry would be the safest. and why would lily do that? why was she dead? why would a murderer choose lily of all people to kill? and why was petunia saddled with the one baby she would never want?! this one child would remind her of all her personal failings!
something truly shocking must have shown on her face, because for all that she loved vernon, he was not the brightest.
"what is it, pet?"
"lily's dead. her husband is, too. everyone close to them is. it's their baby," she said, hardly believing it herself, even as she said it.
vernon started to back away from the baby, stopping his cooing immediately. "absolutely not, pet, we are not keeping that freak child! we can adopt elsewhere, but this child ought to be on the streets! i don't want him m— magicking away our cutlery or vanishing our roof!"
petunia looked down at the letter:
you are her only remaining blood. you are his only hope for any lasting protection against those that want him dead. and this is your family's chance of getting the best sort of protection against him there is. keep baby harry potter, ensure he calls your house a home, and there will be no more evans family tragedies at the hands of lord voldemort.
her eyes turned to the baby in her arms. she looked at his pudgy face— his innocent green eyes, and his glee-filled smile, and she knew she couldn't do what her husband was suggesting, even though the sight of this baby made her think of how much better his mum was. she knew she would never be magic. she knew her dudley would never be brought back. but she couldn't let vernon die just because that voldemort thought they would bother to care about lily's family.
she had to take that blasted boy in.
"vernon, we— i can't leave him to the streets! what will the neighbours think? yvonne was staring at me when i brought him in. and this way we don't need to deal with walking into those . . . filthy adoption centres."
"i will not be dealing with any sort of unnatural freakishness!"
"we'll break the freak out of him. if he is ours, he will not be theirs and we can make sure he grows up good and proper, like— like dudley should've had the chance to."
this last point of hers, coupled with the tears any mention of her poor, stillborn, baby boy, was what got vernon to come around.
"he— he won't be getting dudley's nursery."
