Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters. If I did, I would be a smug, money-hungry British woman.

A/N: Petunia doesn't get enough love. Or enough character development. Thought I'd rectify that. ;D Read, enjoy, and review if you want. Constructive criticism greatly appreciated, as is all imput.

Eden

by Kaistoaster

It was late at night. Or early in the morning, I wasn’t sure which. The numbers on the new digital clock on the nightstand were a crimson blur. It seems the family nearsightedness is catching up to me.

Next to me Vernon’s nose made an abominable noise. Or maybe it was his mouth. I don’t know the dynamics of snoring, but I now my husband is a champion at it. I closed my eyes and tried to avoid the honking, but I was, as it had been for years, an exercise in futility.

I sat up and threw a hateful glance at Vernon. It never failed to astound me that he could sleep through it. I turned and slid my feet into the fuzzy pink sippers on the floor, and padded out of the room into the hallway.

I headed down the hall and opened Dudder’s door. He was sleeping peacefully, looking like a little angel with his cherubic cheeks and warm blonde hair. Watching my son never fails to put a smile on my face, and give me the strength to get through the day.

Finally I noticed the light creeping under the window. Dawn. I left the room, pausing in front of my nephew’s room. Despite what he may think, I do not hate him. But he is lost. Doomed. I’ve known it since he was a baby, dropped like a piece of unwanted litter on my doorstep. With a letter from Them. Oh yes, they claim they know him, and care for him, just like they did Lily. Where were They when he woke up, screaming and hungry at 3:00 A.M? Where were they when he needed a diaper change, a hug, a Band-Aid for a scraped knee? But They’re all too present when they’re leading him, a child, into danger. Into “adventure”. Dreaming and dazed, into the grave.

A lightning bolt on his forehead, to show that the same Death that stole his mother was merely hiding, unvanquished.

To this day it’s hard to believe she’s gone. That her flashing green eyes aren’t inside that magical castle she considered her real home. That she wasn’t off laughing with her damned friends, her real family. Every second with us you could see she longed to be there. We were boring, mundane-Muggle.

Was what I wanted for them so bad, so unreasonable? For Lily to have safe, happy normal life? She could bring excitement and life to any situation. That was her real magic. Harry and Dudley could have grown up together, friends. Gone to school together. They could have worked for and eventually ran Vernon’s drill business. There could have been family barbeques.

But no. My sister and her damned husband are in a hole in the ground –if their filthy friends even bothered to give them a proper funeral. And I have kept Dudley from loving or caring for his cousin. Maybe I succeeded too well. But the mark of death is on Harry, and it will NOT contaminate my son. Long after Harry’s poor body is lowered into the ground, Dudley will have forgotten him. He will be preoccupied with the business of living. Unless, that is, his wife snores.