Note: I've been busy working on original works, and haven't really written any fanfiction for a while. This is... uh something I found in one of my journals from a couple of years ago, all typed up and edited. I've read it over so many times that I'm not sure anymore if it makes any sense... Any and all reviewers will get a magical pony. (hinthint)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it. If I did, I would be able to afford the large pile of fandom-related t shirts I so desperately want.
Petunia Dursley walked down her stairs briskly one morning in early November, eager for a day filled with the most juicy gossip with her neighbors, and for the time spent with her year-old son, Dudley.
In other words, what Petunia was looking forward to was quite normal. Nothing out of the ordinary happened in her household. What was the problem with normality, anyway? Normal meant social acceptance, it meant safety and financial comfort. If one wanted to live their life out recklessly and without a care for what others might think, they may do so as long as they didn't drag Petunia into it.
So maybe she prided herself a bit too much on being so hopelessly average. Maybe she would have enjoyed a different lifestyle, one filled with stimulating conversation and glamorous parties, instead of silent suburbs and monotonous routine. But Petunia tried not to think like that. Those thoughts only brought up bitter memories and regrets.
Turning into her spotless kitchen, the young mother set the kettle for coffee before heading out to retrieve her husband's newspaper, as she had every day of their marriage. Petunia would always get the morning meal ready before calling Vernon downstairs and picking her chubby son up so that she could attempt to feed him. It was like clockwork.
Upon opening the door, Petunia was greeted by the sight of the familiar neighborhood cars parked where they should be, the houses respectable-looking, and each blade of grass nearly trimmed. However, looking down, there was a bundle of something obviously abnormal- and that something was moving.
Cautiously, she lifted the pile of blankets to learn it was a human child, no older than her own little boy. Holding the warm bundle close to her, she examined the infant. He had undeniably messy black hair, just covering up a curious lighting shaped scar upon his forehead. Save for that mark, he seemed to be unharmed. Just tired. It would have been an average sleeping baby- that is, if it hadn't just been found sleeping on her front porch. What stunned Petunia most, however, were the emerald-coloured eyes peeking out from beneath the boy's heavy eyelids.
With a sharp, unwanted pang, Petunia was reminded of her younger sister's eyes. Her sister, who she wasn't seen in a while. The one living out a life that she, perhaps, envied. This would have to be Lily's son- she's seen pictures of the baby, and this one looked a lot like him- but what on earth was he doing here? Hands shaking, Petunia reached for the cream-coloured envelope that lay on her door mat.
Eyes scanning the page, Petunia felt a few tears slip down her face, but she brought the baby in nonetheless, and her tears were wiped by the time her husband came down for breakfast.