these delicate crimes
for; Nanaho-hime's Bizarre Pairing Challenge
line; "You and me, Tunes, we make," snicker "magic." (she can't help but think he's the king of bad jokes)
a/n; So, I absolutely love the idea of this pairing. Why? Because Petunia's a prude and Sirius isn't and I think as a teenager that's precisely what she would want in a guy (though never admitting it or persuing it). Just a theory. Uh, this (like most of my stuff) kind of went in its own way, which isn't entirely a bad thing. And, uh, sorry if Petunia seems a little unconventional. (but, hey, I think it could work. ) ._.
edit; 30 January 2011 at 5:31pm for typos.


The first time they meet he's eighteen and she's a year older and it's nothing, but it sticks with her.

Lily'd invited them round her dad's place for the evening—the man's a real character, Sirius can't help but think, all off-color jokes and enthusiasm and thinly veiled curiosity, throwing back drinks with him and Remus and Peter while James acts the good kid, sitting quietly with Lily pulled against his shoulder.

Her sister (daisy or rose or marigold or some such thing, he hasn't been bothered to learn it) spends the whole evening brooding in the corner, looking down her nose and scowling at whomever glances in her direction (he can't help but think she tries so very hard to be resentful; of lily, of james, of him and the whole wizarding world).

She's not pretty, not really, but there's something so unquestionably Lily about her—a certain petulance and resilience of character—that is inexplicably captivating, something that has him catching her eye, winking lecherously when she notices—not because he's after anything, he's not; it's just, her skirt is too straight and her shoulders are too stiff and, really, girls like that are just asking for a rise.

He's all grins when she storms from the room in a huff.

"What's the matter with Petunia?" Lily asks, voice laced with concern and suspicion, and he can't help but notice it's almost entirely directed at him.

"I haven't the foggiest notion, Lil."


The second time, it's Lily's birthday and all of their old school crowd has turned out and he isn't even sure why she's here—it isn't exactly her scene and she doesn't often speak to her sister, but their father kicked it a couple months back and maybe she feels some strange familial obligation to her sister that Sirius will never understand.

"I can't help but notice you noticing Marlene's robes," he says, sidling up to her, half reeling from a round of firewhiskey, "you know, not all of us are as tasteless."

"I have a feeling you are," she says as she promptly turns on her heel and stalks off.

"You seem to do that a lot—storm off, I mean," he calls, catching up with her.

"I don't know what you think you're playing at," she snaps, cutting this off before it has a chance, "but I don't want anything to do with your lot."

And that's that, except it isn't.


"I can't help but think we're not so different, you and I," he muses, partly because he thinks it's true, partly because he knows she'll hate it.

"How dare you," she breathes.

"What, you don't agree, Tunes?"

"We're nothing alike—you're a freak."

"I'm hurt!" he exclaims in mock sorrow, hand to his heart, eyes twinkling horribly. She kind of hates him for it, she's kind of enamored by it, but this is something she'll never admit, this is only a mistake on her part because this is never going to work.


He rolls up in his ink stain of a motorbike with his classic crooked smirk and his horribly mismatched clothes and Petunia would gladly hide behind the drapery and pretend he didn't exist except the neighbors are gawking and she's left with no choice but to pull him inside.

"What on earth do you think—are you mad?" she fumes, her face flushed from embarrassment and indignation, "what if the neighbors were to start asking questions?"

"Good to see you too, Tunes." He grins and reaches for her fingers but she pulls away, fuming.

"You can't do this, Sirius! I—I know you can't! I remember what Lily said about your—about your government. They won't allow you to keep cropping up here, my lot will find out about you and then they'll have to ship you off to Azkaban."

"Azkaban!" he roars, doubling up with laughter at her puckered forehead and classic Muggle ignorance, "you worry too much," and he catches her by the mouth and she's all wide eyes and wonder, but it's only half a moment before she's shoving him away.

"Don't you ever—" she starts, wiping her mouth with her arm, staring at him like he's some sort of monster, like he's some sort of horrible temptation.

"Sweep you off your feet? No promises, Tunes."


"Come on, Tunes," he grins—she can't help but think maliciously—and pulls her out the door.

"What are you doing?" she shrieks, twisting in his grasp.

"I wanted to show you," he says, shoving her onto his bike, "I thought you of all people would appreciate it," and he's laughing at some horribly obscene joke that she doesn't understand and she's just about to tell him to 'let her down this instant or she'll call the police or scream bloody murder or—or—' but he cranks the bike and flips a switch and she isn't sure where the ground has gone and all she can do is shriek and bury her face in his shoulder.

(what if it stalled? what if they crashed? what if they died? oh, god, what if someone saw?)


"Do you take pleasure in scandalizing me?"

He laughs.


"You and me, Tunes, we make," he snickers, "magic."

(he's the king of bad jokes and getting under her skin)

"That's not the least bit amusing."

(but he swears he almost sees her crack a smile)


He apparates onto her doorstep just as she's opening the door to leave, flowers clutched in her fingers and Vernon Dursley on her arm, all thick neck and dull tie and neatly combed hair.

She looks alarmed and furious and embarrassed and (he thinks) a little ashamed.

"I never knew you went for the walrus type, Tunes." he laughs.

"Who the bloody hell is this, Petunia?" Vernon spits, eyeing Sirius's mismatched clothes and ruffled hair and arrogant mouth, the barest trace of purple creeping up his collar.

"No one," she says shrilly, "one of my sister's friends. He's not quite right in the head."


She gets engaged on a Wednesday—and even Sirius has to admit that there is no one better suited to a woman like Petunia than Vernon Dursley, and he had to have known this was coming anyway, but he can't help but feel ever so slightly robbed.


Strictly speaking, she's not at her sister's wedding. She only makes it to the front door of the chapel and then changes her mind—(she doesn't want anything to do with this, magic and romance, it's the stuff of fairytales and picture books and she's a grown woman with a grown woman's sensibilities).

"I could be wrong, but I had always thought it was the bride that got cold feet."

She's already got the car running and she can't be bothered to even look over her shoulder but it doesn't matter anyway. "Let me alone, Sirius," and this is the last time she'll say it, because she's getting married in a month and she's had enough of these games and enough of his lot and she just wants to leave this godforsaken place and be normal.


Twice after she hears of him on the news. Twice she sighs and shoves the memories on a shelf.