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hp_shoreofangstPrompt: H11 (2021)
Title Under the Petunia
Author/Artist:
Rating: T
Type: Fic
Word Count/Medium: 931
Warnings or Content: References/descriptions of marital abuse and child abuse
Disclaimer: All characters and worlds are the property of their respective owners. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. I own nothing that you recognise. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
Notes: I had fun writing this, and I hope I did the prompt justice! The title is a reference to the phrase "under the rose" which refers to something done in secret.
Summary: Everyone always assumed that Petunia Evans married Vernon Dursley of her own free will, but they were so very wrong.
----
Under the Petunia:
Petunia looked down at her dress. It was ivory, falling around her in satin gathers, right down to the floor, and trailing slightly behind her. The mirror told her she looked prettier than she had ever looked before. Why shouldn’t she? It was the biggest, most important day of her life, after all.
She smiled into the mirror, her lips curving, showing off the apples of her cheeks that had been so carefully blushed. She looked... like a beautiful lie, her mind whispered, but she shut it out with the words everyone had told her: lovely, like a bride-to-be should be.
She was happy, she reminded herself.After all, she was marrying Vernon. What more could she want? Vernon was the love of her life. Of course he was. He meant everything to her.
She swallowed, looking over how her arms looked in the dress. The white lace hid the already-healing bruises, enough that she convinced herself they wouldn’t be noticed by anyone. It had been difficult convincing her overjoyed mother to let her dress herself, but she had done it, knowing Mum would have been surprised and thrown a fit on her wedding day, a scenario that Vernon most certainly did not want, and neither did she. What would Lily think? asked a small voice at the back of her head. She pushed it away back into the depths.
Besides, neither Lily nor Mum would be of any consequence. She wanted to marry Vernon. Always had, hadn’t she?
There was a baby at her door. A child she hadn’t even met before. Lily’s child. He was lying there, swaddled peacefully. A small scar appeared to peek out under his dark hair, which instantly filled her with a strange worry.
Her heart felt like it was in her throat, throbbing wildly. She could not leave him on her porch, that much she knew. He was only a child. Only an infant, much like her own Duddykins. But Vernon…
Her breath caught at the thought of her husband. He was hardly one for children, even his own. To bring in another would be...Especially one of Lily’s.
Petunia had never told Vernon of her sister’s condition , as she referred to it in her private moments. The images of his face, painted in fury and disgust flashed across her mind at the very thought.
She turned back to the boy who continued to lay contentedly in his basket, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind that was going on in her mind. Her hands shaking, she lifted up the basket gently, and took it inside. Would Lily have done the same?
The two wizards watching Disillusioned some distance away smiled slightly, glad at her decision. They were too far away to notice the bags under her eyes and the swelling of her broken wrist.
Vernon yelled for Harry. He looked like he was made of pure anger, about to explode, an expression that Petunia knew did not bode well for anyone in the house.
“BOY!” he shouted again, until the aforementioned child came running down the stairs on his bony legs. He went and stood between his uncle and cousin, head turned down, awaiting his next command. He looked thin, even emaciated, next to Dudsy. Petunia frowned at her own thoughts. That would not do, no. Vernon knew what he was doing with respect to the boy, and she was not going to speak up against him.
Why should she, anyway? He took care of her and the kids, worked hard to keep them all in comfort. If that meant he was occasionally ( occasionally?) somewhat demanding of her nephew, what right did she have to complain?
His mother’s sister. Lily’s sister, something reminded her. But Lily was dead, and Petunia still had her whole life ahead of her.
The children all grown up, leaving their home, would leave her with an empty nest, bitter-sweet. So she had heard. The feeling of pride and joy for their child, coupled with the loss of someone that been with them for so long, sprinkled with a touch of the old freedom of ‘just the two of them’. So she was told.
Why then did the sight of Dudley’s car driving away flood her with pure dread?
Vernon was all hers now. All his time. All his affection. All his love… All his vices?
She frowned at the thought. He did not have many vices, not that she knew of. Perhaps an over-fondness of food. He was not an alcoholic, nor a gambler. Nothing that would cause them to lose their money, or their reputation. He simply... did not know his own strength sometimes.
He meant well, of course. He wanted her to be good for him; to be a good wife, a good mother. Her bathroom mirror had heard all these words before.
“It’s for your own good,” she would whisper, “yours and Dudley’s.” A refrain she muttered often as she iced her bruises.
But now there was no more ‘and Dudley’. Now it was just her. Her and the man she married. Her and the man she loved.
What if…
Her thoughts wandered into strange territory.
The doorbell rang. He was home from the store. As she went to open the door, she felt the familiar panic, the one that was always accompanied by his presence. She tried to swallow it down, as she had done for so long. For once, it stayed stubbornly in her throat.
The previous musings twisted anew in her mind.
What if she had been like Lily? A...freak? Different?
Title Under the Petunia
Author/Artist:
Rating: T
Type: Fic
Word Count/Medium: 931
Warnings or Content: References/descriptions of marital abuse and child abuse
Disclaimer: All characters and worlds are the property of their respective owners. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. I own nothing that you recognise. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.
Notes: I had fun writing this, and I hope I did the prompt justice! The title is a reference to the phrase "under the rose" which refers to something done in secret.
Summary: Everyone always assumed that Petunia Evans married Vernon Dursley of her own free will, but they were so very wrong.
----
Under the Petunia:
Petunia looked down at her dress. It was ivory, falling around her in satin gathers, right down to the floor, and trailing slightly behind her. The mirror told her she looked prettier than she had ever looked before. Why shouldn’t she? It was the biggest, most important day of her life, after all.
She smiled into the mirror, her lips curving, showing off the apples of her cheeks that had been so carefully blushed. She looked... like a beautiful lie, her mind whispered, but she shut it out with the words everyone had told her: lovely, like a bride-to-be should be.
She was happy, she reminded herself.After all, she was marrying Vernon. What more could she want? Vernon was the love of her life. Of course he was. He meant everything to her.
She swallowed, looking over how her arms looked in the dress. The white lace hid the already-healing bruises, enough that she convinced herself they wouldn’t be noticed by anyone. It had been difficult convincing her overjoyed mother to let her dress herself, but she had done it, knowing Mum would have been surprised and thrown a fit on her wedding day, a scenario that Vernon most certainly did not want, and neither did she. What would Lily think? asked a small voice at the back of her head. She pushed it away back into the depths.
Besides, neither Lily nor Mum would be of any consequence. She wanted to marry Vernon. Always had, hadn’t she?
There was a baby at her door. A child she hadn’t even met before. Lily’s child. He was lying there, swaddled peacefully. A small scar appeared to peek out under his dark hair, which instantly filled her with a strange worry.
Her heart felt like it was in her throat, throbbing wildly. She could not leave him on her porch, that much she knew. He was only a child. Only an infant, much like her own Duddykins. But Vernon…
Her breath caught at the thought of her husband. He was hardly one for children, even his own. To bring in another would be...Especially one of Lily’s.
Petunia had never told Vernon of her sister’s condition , as she referred to it in her private moments. The images of his face, painted in fury and disgust flashed across her mind at the very thought.
She turned back to the boy who continued to lay contentedly in his basket, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind that was going on in her mind. Her hands shaking, she lifted up the basket gently, and took it inside. Would Lily have done the same?
The two wizards watching Disillusioned some distance away smiled slightly, glad at her decision. They were too far away to notice the bags under her eyes and the swelling of her broken wrist.
Vernon yelled for Harry. He looked like he was made of pure anger, about to explode, an expression that Petunia knew did not bode well for anyone in the house.
“BOY!” he shouted again, until the aforementioned child came running down the stairs on his bony legs. He went and stood between his uncle and cousin, head turned down, awaiting his next command. He looked thin, even emaciated, next to Dudsy. Petunia frowned at her own thoughts. That would not do, no. Vernon knew what he was doing with respect to the boy, and she was not going to speak up against him.
Why should she, anyway? He took care of her and the kids, worked hard to keep them all in comfort. If that meant he was occasionally ( occasionally?) somewhat demanding of her nephew, what right did she have to complain?
His mother’s sister. Lily’s sister, something reminded her. But Lily was dead, and Petunia still had her whole life ahead of her.
The children all grown up, leaving their home, would leave her with an empty nest, bitter-sweet. So she had heard. The feeling of pride and joy for their child, coupled with the loss of someone that been with them for so long, sprinkled with a touch of the old freedom of ‘just the two of them’. So she was told.
Why then did the sight of Dudley’s car driving away flood her with pure dread?
Vernon was all hers now. All his time. All his affection. All his love… All his vices?
She frowned at the thought. He did not have many vices, not that she knew of. Perhaps an over-fondness of food. He was not an alcoholic, nor a gambler. Nothing that would cause them to lose their money, or their reputation. He simply... did not know his own strength sometimes.
He meant well, of course. He wanted her to be good for him; to be a good wife, a good mother. Her bathroom mirror had heard all these words before.
“It’s for your own good,” she would whisper, “yours and Dudley’s.” A refrain she muttered often as she iced her bruises.
But now there was no more ‘and Dudley’. Now it was just her. Her and the man she married. Her and the man she loved.
What if…
Her thoughts wandered into strange territory.
The doorbell rang. He was home from the store. As she went to open the door, she felt the familiar panic, the one that was always accompanied by his presence. She tried to swallow it down, as she had done for so long. For once, it stayed stubbornly in her throat.
The previous musings twisted anew in her mind.
What if she had been like Lily? A...freak? Different?
