P.POTTER + J.POTTER
june 2nd, 1982
<1>
PETUNIA POTTER SAT IN A BED in the farthest corner of the room, blankly staring forward. There were people around her, people she couldn't recognize — would never recognize, no matter how many times she'd seen them. They were all a blur to her, just like the world was now.
Loss of color, feelings leaving without a trace. She couldn't think, she couldn't remember, she couldn't speak. She was lost. Lost in herself. Lost in the mind that was no longer her own.
She felt something course through her, the harsh pain that stabbed through her just a year ago. The burning sensation as red engulfed her, the screams she let out as her body erupted from the inside. Her thoughts and memories went into a frenzy as a word was repeated at her. One, two... five.... six times.
Crucio.
The only word that still hit her mind. Crucio. Crucio. Crucio. The last thing spoken to her before she went blank.
Petunia's eyes watered as the word repeated in her head, growing louder each time. It was like it was affecting her all over again — causing a piercing pain to surround her body.
She trembled, barely, not enough for anyone else to notice. But she did. The blonde refused to blink, to let the water trail down her heated cheeks. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't cry. Not in front of them. These people she couldn't recognize. Strangers. No.
She sat up straight, ignoring the whispering sounds of everyone around her. She ignored the doors being closed. She ignored the crying. She ignored the footsteps.
The footsteps.
The steps that stopped right next to her bed, soon being followed by a sound of a stool scraping against the floor as it was drug in her direction.
Then silence.
And he sat down.
Not saying a word, he looked to her, his eyes boring into the side of her face. She did not return the eye contact. She never had before. He was a stranger. A very persistent one at that.
"Petunia Potter," He started out. Just like he always had before — she knew that, a part of her remembered that part. He had been coming every day since she could remember — almost as if he was trying to remind her. 'petunia potter' Two words that were foreign to her.
"Harry couldn't make it today," He continued on, "Pete is watching him."
Petunia stopped the furrow of her brows from hearing those names. Harry. Pete. He's said these names before, countless of times. But she couldn't picture a face. She couldn't even picture her face. How could she with them?
Petunia waited for him to speak again, to ask her a question in hopes she would use her voice. Her voice. A voice she hadn't used in a year. She didn't know how. How could she? What words did she even know?
He didn't ask her a question.
The man next to her remained quiet, almost lost in his thoughts as he sat in his seat. His eyes were no longer staring at her — she could tell. But he did look in her direction, possibly thinking about her, what he could say next.
Petunia's eyes shifted from the wall in front of her, now glancing down to her lap. She was trying anything to get rid of the discomfort she felt in that moment. She wanted to know what he was thinking. What was causing him to space out so much?
She looked at him.
More of a peek than anything. It was quick, barely getting a glimpse of him. But it was something. And the action seemed to surprise her more than him.
He cleared his throat.
"A few years ago I had gotten into a fight with your sister and snuck on your roof." He started randomly. And once again, Petunia felt herself glancing at him — trying to understand the words he was saying. "You joined me up there, even when you didn't really know me." He continued, pretending not to notice how her eyes were now on him. He was scared if they made contact, that she would look away. So, he kept his eyes on his hands, which were nervously tangled together by her bedside. "You told me something that day. Something that I still think about." He smiled in thought. Petunia almost wanted to match his expression. But she didn't know how. So, she listened instead. "You told me... you told me — there is no reason for you to look for acceptance from anyone that isn't yourself." He quoted her, not missing a word.
Petunia let his words linger in her head as he said them, trying to grasp each one as if it was a new memory. Something seemed so familiar with what he was saying — like a spark ignited at his story. But even within her deepest thoughts she couldn't find anything. It was all gone. But she didn't want it to be. Petunia no longer wanted to forget. He had told her stories before. Stories that are now lost in the darkness of her deserted mind. But she wanted to remember — she wanted to know what these stories meant to her, to him even.
"That's when I fell in love with you."
Petunia's heart suddenly warmed.
An unfamiliar feeling — one that she didn't seem to mind. Her chest felt warm, her cheeks following soon after. She felt hugged in it. Like it was comforting her in the only way it could.
She smiled.
But she hadn't realized.
James had, however.
He had looked at her when he said those words. 'That's when I fell in love with you.' Because it was true. And he had never told her that before. Never told her when he realized. But she deserved to know. He wanted her to know. And from what he could tell, she understood. A part of her understood. A part of Petunia was still there, hearing what he had to say — listening to his words as if they were the only thing that mattered. She wasn't fully gone. She was here.
He decided to continue.
"You pulled me into the rain one day," He mused out, not faltering his smile as he spoke. "You actually did that a lot," He countered back to his original wording, "Something about me not being able to see was really amusing to you," He watched her smile grow. "We were in a field, the rain had completely destroyed the wonderful picnic I had created," He summarized, deciding to not add the detail that Remus' had actually made the food. "And we ended up slipping on the wet grass — or, you fell and brought me with you," He bit back his lip, again, focusing his eyes on her own, "I asked you to marry me right then."
Petunia watched as he spoke, admiring how passionate he seemed about his topics. And she took in everything he was saying, trying so hard to picture what he was explaining. Was she doing well? Not really. But she continued to try.
James opened his mouth to start another story, but faltered — not knowing which one to choose from. He had so many happy memories with her. He wanted tell them all. To tell her all of them.
He sighed.
"One time I came home early from work," He reminisced, thinking back to the day. "You never realized, I still hadn't told you... until today." He spoke slowly, trying to think of how he should tell this story. "But you were holding Harry, our son," He lightly detailed, "And you were baking. Well, trying to bake. Harry kept getting in your way, which was expected." He gently laughed, seeing as her own nose now crinkled in response. "You were singing to him, twirling him around, ignoring the powdered mess that surrounded you both," He thought aloud. "He was laughing, you were too." He held back his own laugh, stopping his story short. And James subconsciously flickered his eyes to her hand, a sudden wave of anxiousness hitting him. But she noticed this small action. And despite her being behind, trying to catch up with everything he said — she still reached for his hands, laying her own palm right against where his were still clasped together, trying to give her best reassuring smile. Almost as if she was saying, 'go on'.
Which James did.
He told her story after story, everything he remembered from the past — everything he remembered about her. And she continued to listen — to hear what he had to say, to hear the amount of details he provided to her.
Slowly but surely she had started to paint a picture — to imagine what he was saying in her head. And weirdly enough, her mind didn't seem as dull as it was before. She started to see a light to everything. A light to her life. A light to her memories.
He was her light. Guiding her through everything, teaching her about who she was, what she liked, how she treated others. Petunia wished she could remember it all.
She wish she could remember Hogwarts. She wished she could remember her friends, James, Harry — her sister. Lily. She wished she could remember Lily. Despite everything they supposedly went through — it didn't matter to her anymore. She wanted to remember.
Petunia tried to speak.
Tried. Nothing actually came out. But it caused James to stop his own talking, instead looking at her fully.
Petunia had a focused look on her face, still keeping her eyes mirrored to James. She wanted to remember him. She wanted to remember. That repeated through her. She wanted to fight the unmistakable curse that fought her every second of the day. She was done losing. She was done fighting too — but not for this. She would fight for this. She will fight for this.
She started to get a headache.
Something familiar, but she didn't know why. It pierced her temples, causing her eyes to squint together in response. James was soon becoming blurry to her, the noises were becoming dim. It was like she was leaving her current state of mind in that moment — trying to see something else.
And she felt as her mouth opened, trying to speak like it did once before. But it was hard, her words struggling to break through the barrier of her dry throat. She couldn't say it. But she could. Petunia would say it.
It was the only way for her to remember.
Because if she could see the future,
what's stopping her from seeing the past?
"seerensapa."
the end.
SIKE
one more chapter besties
P.POTTER + J.POTTER