They were friends first, sisters second.

Everything Lily and Petunia Evans grew up doing, they did together. The sister's shared an unusual bond with each other. Their enthusiasm for one another's company was almost disturbing. While most sisters were at each other's throats a good amount of the time, there was rarely a problem between the two. They loved each other; it was very evident. If a friend from school called and extended an invitation to their house to one of them, they often declined. They preferred each other's company above anyone else's.

Lily had fiery hair that fell to her mid-back, and dark green eyes that always held a certain sparkle. She was slightly short for her age; she had been for as long as she could remember, but that fact never appeared to bother her. Petunia, on the other hand, had dark brown hair, which she kept neatly cropped at her shoulders, and warm brown eyes. Tall and thin, she and her sister were quite the pair of opposites.

During the summer of Lily's eleventh birthday, an odd looking letter addressed to the young girl had arrived at the doorstep of the Evan's home. Petunia, then thirteen, had found it before anyone else, and brought it into the kitchen where her family was sitting down to breakfast with the rest of the mail. It had been opened and found to contain a letter from the most surprising of places; a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Lily was obviously incredibly excited as she read over the instructions. Petunia was ecstatic. Her little sister; a witch!

The next few years passed quickly for both girls. They kept in close contact through owl mail, (Lily explained it to Petunia) where Lily would tell of the wonders and amazements that could be found throughout the wizarding world. Hogwarts, the school she was attending, sounded fantastic with it's moving stairwells and trick steps. She would write of marvelous adventures with her friends, and always send moving pictures of her latest crush. Petunia would reply with news of the family and her friends, occasionally accompanied by picture of her boyfriend, Vernon, who she'd been dating exclusively since she was fifteen.

Lily's final year came, and her letters were now adorned with constant rambles about her boyfriend, James Potter, as well as a few sorrowful sections of how she'd miss the school terribly. Sometimes, Petunia felt like she would miss it more than her clever sister would; the mystery, the magic, all of it. It amazed her. At points she could see the Great Hall with it's enchanted ceiling, or feel the fire roaring in the Gryffindor Common room. It felt like it was her home just as much as it was Lily's.

Lily was three months from Graduation when You-Know-Who really became a threat.

Petunia had never known much about him; he had never been a major power, just an afterthought that was not really considered a huge influence. Yet as Graduation neared, Lily's notes became smaller, less detailed, and more frantic. They often mentioned him now and his rise to the top. How he wanted to rid the world of witches and wizards from muggle descent, like her. And as concerned as Petunia was for her baby sister whom she loved so dearly, she just couldn't wrap her mind around someone as evil as the man Lily described. Certainly, no one would wish to wreck something as pure and lovely as the wizarding world Lily had told her off. It was impossible. Inconceivable.

She had gone out for a party one evening; it was her friend's birthday. When she'd left, her parents had been sitting on the couch, her father's eyes looking over the paper intently, her mother knitting contentedly beside him. She smiled warmly at them; they had always been so good to Lily and her. Encouraging and supportive, they had not only given them a good foundation for life, they'd taught them how to live. She'd called to them to say that she'd probably leave the party early and would be back around eleven.

The party had been quite the bore, just sitting and watching a B horror movie on TV, so Petunia had left earlier than expected. By ten-thirty she was driving home, singing along softly with the song playing on the radio. It was the Beatles, a band that had been among her favorites when she was younger. A smile had formed on her lips as she stopped at the corner and turned onto her street.

The first thing she noticed was a ghastly green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth hanging about her house. Immediately, her face paled; she vaguely remembered something of similar description in one of Lily's more recent letters. Her foot stomped on the gas pedal as she raced down the road toward her house, then stopped abruptly at the end of the block, parking haphazardly.

She threw open the car door the slammed it shut as she made her way as fast as she could to her house. The door was slightly ajar as she kicked it out of her way and ran inside. Calling out for her parents and getting no reply, her fears heightened. She bolted to the living room, finding her parents in the same situation as they had been when she left . . .

. . . Only dead.

Their bodies were slumped and their faces were forever caught in a look of absolute terror. A cry fell from her lips in sync with many tears. Going to her knees, she brought her hands up to cover her face. She wasn't sure how long she cried alone in front of the corpses of her parents before someone tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned to see a nervous looking man who quickly explained himself to be a wizard. He told her that the man who had killed them was Voldemort, and the details of Lily's notes flew back to her. It suddenly all made sense. The wizard asked her if she wanted a calming potion, but she replied no. He said that her sister had been informed and would be arriving at home to stay with her.

At that moment, something inside of her clicked. The dark wizard may have been the one to cast the spell, but if Lily had never been a witch then it never would have happened. What's-his-name would have never known to come to this certain house. She recalled in one letter how Lily said she and James had begun to become very active in the movement against him. And the more Petunia thought, the more she knew one thing for sure.

The whole situation was Lily's fault.

Lily arrived days later, lugging her trunk behind her, and the cage with her owl, Aristotle, cradled in her arm. She had knocked on the door lightly, setting down Aristotle and trying to turn the knob only to find it locked. Her face was slightly reddened from the crying she had done on her way home; it had been three days since her parent's death, yet it felt like an eternity. All she wanted to do was get inside and be comforted by the only family she had left.

There was a long pause before the door crept open; so long Lily thought that perhaps Petunia hadn't heard. Then suddenly, a small creak sounded and Petunia's gaunt face and troubled looking figure appeared in the doorway. Her sister's visage conveyed many things; despair, sadness, and something that she couldn't quite place, since it was so foreign to her. Losing her grip on the trunk, she took a step forward and attempted to hug her sister. "Petunia." She whispered softly, as she tried to envelope the taller girl in an embrace.

Instead, Petunia side stepped her. "Why are you here?" Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the distraught girl on the front stoop.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" Lily queried, her forehead creased in confusion, "I'm allowed to come home the rest of the year. They said they could owl me the rest of my coursework."

Petunia's glare intensified. "I don't want you here, murderer."

Lily took a faltering step backward, her eyes widened in surprise. "Wh- what?"

"You heard me."

"What do you mean?" Suddenly her voice was very high-pitched and desperate.

Giving a snort of disgust, the older sibling obliged, "It all goes back to you, Lily. If you'd never been a witch, they would be alive," she paused as her sister gasped a 'no!', "or if you'd been sensible and not be so outspoken against that dark wizard, What's-his-Name."

"Voldemort." Lily supplied before continuing, "I couldn't have known those things! How can you blame me?"

"It's quite easy, actually. You see, sister dearest, though that man you hate so much may have recited the spell, you're the one who helped him gain access to us." She repeated her earlier statement, "It all goes back to you."

"But it's not my fault!" Lily moaned her protest, knowing it was futile.

Reflecting on everything that happened, Petunia's anger intensified to the point where Lily could see the hatred in her eyes . "It is and you know it. I don't want to see you ever again. I hate you." With that she slammed the door in the younger girl's face.

If she had known those were the last words she'd ever say to her baby sister, she may have chosen them differently.

Three years passed. Vernon proposed, and she accepted readily. Lily had gotten married around the same time as she had. An invitation had been sent, but she had not replied or attended the wedding. She had ended up marrying the Potter fellow-no big surprise.

At first, she received letters just as regularly as she had before. She read every one of them, but never replied. Sometimes they pleaded her to come to her senses and realize there was nothing she could have done. Others included news of her marriage; they'd had a son, born a few weeks after Petunia and Vernon's own; a baby boy whom they had named Dudley. None of them included what she really wanted.

She wanted an apology. Some sort of act to show she was sorry for the death of her parents. If she'd gotten off her high horse and given the proper respect, then Petunia would have responded. Yet every letter that came lacked that one important element. Eventually, without reply, the letters tapered off and eventually stopped coming all together.

Then one day, everything changed.

She'd awoken that morning, with a tedious feeling in her stomach. Quietly, she'd slipped from bed, and after checking to make sure Dudley was still fast asleep, walked downstairs to start on breakfast. Yet as she reached to retrieve the milk from the refrigerator, an urge swept over her. All of sudden, she felt Lily's presence all around her, like she was standing right outside the door as she had a few years ago.

In that moment, all Petunia wanted was to see her sister again. She didn't care if she had killed their parents. It didn't occur to her that part of her still hated her younger sibling, and probably always would. She just needed to see her face and know that she was alright.

Without a pause she flew to her front door and flung it open. There was no fiery-headed woman standing on the front stoop, and disappointed, her eyes shifted to the ground where a basket caught her eyes. Surprised, Petunia squatted and pulled away a blanket. A small baby boy stared up at her, and the first thing she noticed were his eyes.

They were Lily's eyes.

Quickly, she snatched the letter that accompanied the small boy and ripped it open. It was written in emerald ink and on a piece of parchment; things she hadn't seen in years. Her eyes skimmed the words quickly, and at the end of the brief letter, she felt herself tear up. Still on her stoop, an innocent boy stared up at her. She picked up the basket and stared down at the little face that had such big, soulful eyes.

At that moment, she knew one thing. Part of Lily was in this boy, but he wouldn't make the same mistakes she did. He would never know that magic existed, or that he was endeared to the entire wizarding world. He would grow up normally.

Like Lily should have.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I'm proud of this one. I really, really am. I'm weird about the fact that I usually have a soft spot for the mean characters of a story. I'm always wondering what made them become so nasty. I especially love Peter Pettigrew. *sigh* But I'm very sick of fics where Petunia lacks character. I wanted a reason for why Petunia hated Lily so much, so I made up my own. Anyway, please r&r! All feedback is appreciated! :DD