an integer more than three (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
secondsilk.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
femgenficathon2005-08-29 12:56 pm
secondsilk.livejournal.com) wrote in femgenficathon2005-08-29 12:56 pm
Victories Worse than Defeat
Title: Victories Worse than Defeat
Author: Rose Williams (RoseWill),![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rosewilliams
Rating: PG 13.
Warnings: Character death.
Prompt: 43. Any coward can fight a battle when he's sure of winning, but give me the man who has pluck to fight when he's sure of losing. That's my way, sir; and there are many victories worse than defeat.--George Eliot, a.k.a. Mary Ann Evans.
Summary: Petunia never liked magic, Lily used to like her sister. Four rather imporant scenes in their lives.
I would like to apologise most sincerely for the lateness of this fic. All feedback is greatly appreciated, although I won't be able to reply to it for a couple of weeks.
Any coward can fight a battle when he's sure of winning
Lily received a tea set for her fifth birthday. When it was first unpacked it was mostly green and pink. When Lily came to use it the following afternoon it was mostly yellow and blue. Petunia refused to go near the strange toy for three days, but eventually she gave into Lily's demands and the blue and yellow tea-set was used every afternoon for the rest of the term. The Easter holidays came, bringing with them Petunia's eighth birthday and her first real bicycle.
Petunia ran down the hall and burst into the living room. Lily stumbled in after her and both girls stood transfixed by the pink contraption standing beside the table.
“Happy Birthday, Petunia,” their father said, beaming from the doorway.
Petunia spun around to face him, eyes still wide with delight. Mr Evans chuckled. Petunia launched herself at him and was lifted up and swung through the air.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cried, and squealed when her father kissed her sloppily on the forehead. Mrs Evans caught Petunia as Mr Evans dropped her into her arms and Petunia hugged her mother tightly.
Lily ignored her parents. She stood quite still, merely looking at the bicycle, following the curve of the handlebars and the loop of the crossbar with her eyes, but not daring to approach it.
“You can have my old bike, Lily,” Petunia said generously.
“It’s just the right size for you now,” Mr Evans pronounced.
Lily nodded, but didn't smile; the bike was green, only pink was a worse colour.
“Can I have a go on this one?” she asked.
“It’s pink,” Petunia said. “You’d look ridiculous.”
Lily privately thought that Petunia looked ridiculous in her mauve smocked dress and hair ribbons. That colour didn’t go much better with the pink of the bike than the orange of Lily’s hair. But their father chuckled.
“Maybe eventually, Lily,” he said. “But today is Petunia’s birthday.”
Petunia smiled warmly at her father, and poked her tongue out at Lily when he wasn’t looking. She waltzed over to the bike and pulled the ribbon off it. She wheeled it out from between the chairs and delicately stepped across the frame.
“Not inside, Petunia,” Mrs Evans scolded lightly.
Petunia looked at her parents with wide, desperate eyes.
“Let her ride it, Greta,” Mr Evans said. “It’s her birthday.”
“Be it on your head, Henry,” Greta said. “Breakfast in fifteen minutes.”
Greta disappeared into the kitchen. Henry and Lily watched, one proud the other bitter, as Petunia kicked off from the carpet and wobbled her way down the hall. She ran into the front door, but didn’t break anything on the way.
give me the man who has pluck to fight when he's sure of losing.
Lily wouldn't even have been there but that Petunia had insisted. The stress of sixth year exams coupled with the various strategies Black and Potter employed to overcome it would have been preferable to celebrating Petunia's birthday with her fiancé and his family. Vernon Dursley was a man Lily had no patience for; at least Potter had a sense of humour, of a sort. But Lily had learnt not to pick fights she couldn't win gracefully.
Instead she gritted her and forced herself to smile while making small talk with Petunia's soon to be sister in law. It was easy; all she had to do was nod politely as the girl described her dog's litter of puppies in minute detail. It surprised Lily to remember that Marge was two years older than her. In the Wizarding world she was adult; at home she was to be treated with patronizing sweetness by odious non-relatives.
The end of dinner and the presentation of the tea things rescued Lily from Marge's dogs, but subjected her to Mrs Dursley. Mr and Mrs Dursley were a prim couple, who obviously expected Lily to be the quiet little sister, as though they were living in a Jane Austen novel.
"How is school, Lily?" Mrs Dursley asked.
"I enjoy it," Lily said, smiling slightly at the strangled look Petunia wore, paused in the middle of pouring tea.
"And what subjects will you be taking A levels in?"
Lily tried to catch Petunia's eye, either to reassure her that she wouldn't make a scene, or to see that fleeting look of horror again. Petunia had turned away to talk to their mother, so Lily tried to think of a way to translate Magic subjects into Muggle ones.
"English and Maths, Physics, and, ah, Social Studies," she added, for Defence.
"A girl as pretty as you doesn't need to do so much school, do you?" Mr Dursley asked, seeming genuinely confused.
Lily decided to take that as a compliment and smiled as she sipped her tea.
"Are you learning useful things?" Mrs Dursley asked.
"Oh, yes."
"What sorts of things do public schools teach these days?"
Lily felt a flash of indignation of Petunia's behalf; because she had simply done her O levels at the local comprehensive.
"Magic spells," Lily said. "And how to make potions."
Mr Dursley barked a rough laugh and Lily chuckled with him. Vernon, however must have heard her, because he turned red. Petunia glared at Lily as though she had destroyed the whole family's future and Greta picked up the half finished tray of biscuits.
"I have some more of these in the kitchen," she told Marge kindly. "Lily, if you'll be so kind."
Lily nodded politely to the guests and stood up to follow her mother.
"I just thought I would save you from Petunia," Greta said, opening the pantry to reach for the biscuit tin.
Petunia had seen fit to follow them, with her tea.
"Is there are a problem, dear?" Greta asked. "Does Vernon prefer chocolate to biscuits? I think we still have some of the packet the Willinghams gave us."
"I have some Chocolate Frogs," Lily offered with a helpful grin.
She could see Remus shaking his head at her to hide his grin, and perhaps Black behind him giving her the thumbs up.
"You will do no such thing," Petunia hissed. "Do you know how difficult it has been for Vernon and I to hide what you are from his family? You can't even keep it quiet for one evening."
"It was supposed to be a joke," Lily spat back. "I hardly expected them to take me seriously."
"You could ruin everything I have," Petunia said. "Would you have given them a demonstration?"
"Like this?" Lily asked, sweetly. She took her wand out of her sock and aimed it at the teacup in Petunia's hand. With a faint 'pop' the delicately pattered china disappeared to be replaced by a mouse.
Petunia shrieked and dropped the cup. James Potter would have laughed at her expression. Lily suppressed her own grin. The mouse ran straight for the corner where Greta grabbed it by the tail. Petunia recovered herself quickly enough to grab Lily's wrist. Lily glared back at her.
“How dare you?” Petunia said, voice caught between fear and disgust.
Lily held her wand firmly in her fist, still pointing at Petunia until Petunia pulled herself taller. Greta laid a gentle hand on Lily’s arm. Petunia let her go and Lily lowered the wand, but did not put it away, and did not take her eyes from Petunia.
“I’m a witch,” she said. “It’s what I do.”
“It shouldn't be allowed,” Petunia spat back.
“We’ve had this conversation, Pet,” Greta said gently.
Lily wondered how much never made it in the letters she received.
"I'm not six years old," Petunia told her mother. "And I'm not fourteen, either. I can think for myself. It's unnatural, I don't want you doing it in my home."
“This is my home, too,” Lily said, ignoring the little voice that said she should have stayed at school, at least to keep an eye on Potter and Black. She fingered the green in gold bracelet they had given her for her birthday and smiled remembering how nervous James had been, how keen for her approval.
"This is a normal house," Petunia said. "You're a freak, you shouldn't be allowed back here after where you went."
Lily felt her blood freeze, felt time stop. "Freak" was the least of what Black's cousins had called her and Severus had told her twice that she shouldn't be allowed at the school because of where she'd come from.
"Petunia," Greta hissed.
She held the mouse out to Lily. "It was one of my favourites," she said.
Lily absently waved her wand and the teacup reappeared, without its tea. Petunia shivered and refused to take it back from her mother.
"I don't want you going back there," Petunia told Lily. "You could give it all up now and save us all a lot of trouble."
"I am going back to school," Lily said, refusing the enticing excuse to avoid the war, avoid Potter and Black, avoid the looks she would get from the Slytherins and some of the Ravenclaws when she arrived back at the school.
"I don't ever want to see you again," Petunia said, her voice icy calm.
Greta dropped the cup.
Lily waved her wand with a muttered Reparo and levitated the cup back onto the kitchen bench. She smiled briefly at her mother.
"Give my best to dad, and excuse me from the Dursleys. Good bye, Petunia, Happy Birthday."
Greta reached for her younger daughter, but Lily disappeared with a 'crack' before her mother's hand could close around her arm.
That's my way, sir
She tried, when James yelled at her to take Harry and run, to obey him. Most of her wanted to obey, wanted to take her child and keep him safe and part of that considered risking Apparating. But there was also a small part of her that wanted to stay and fight; the part that told her she was a Gryffindor as well as a woman, a soldier as well as a mother.
She felt the flash of green and heard James's body hit the ground without registering the sound for what it was. But the part of her that wanted to stay and fight got louder.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and she turned; couldn't force herself to Disapparate. She would stand to defend her son and run like a scared thing that knew it would lose; she was not scared.
"Not Harry! Not Harry!" she shouted, hardly hearing what she said. "Please, I'll do anything."
"Stand aside, stand aside, girl."
"You will not take him."
"Stand aside." He had his wand trained on her, pointed at her chest, but probably aimed at the baby in his cot behind her.
"Take me instead," she offered. "I'm the Mudblood."
"Stand aside, you silly girl."
Lily raised her wand.
"Stand aside, now."
"Not Harry, please no." He's Pureblood, you beast, you… she felt tears rising behind her eyes. You wanted to kill me. "Take me, kill me instead."
Voldemort raised his wand, aiming through her to the baby, lying in his cot.
"Not Harry! Please. Have mercy," she screamed, was there any part of him that had once been human? "Have mercy."
Voldemort's first clenched around his wand and he laughed. She didn't hear the words he said. But she saw the spell coming and knew that it would hit Harry if it didn't hit her. It wasn't much, but anything rather than Harry. She'd never liked the colour green.
there are many victories worse than defeat.
Petunia knew something was wrong from the moment Vernon had mentioned Lily. It reminded her of the shiver she always felt when she'd played the plastic tea-set Lily had once had. So she wasn't surprised to find a baby in a basket on her doorstep the following morning. Of all the things she had been dreading, that hadn't made the list.
It wasn't surprise that caused her to scream; screaming was simply what you did when faced with an indescribable situation that others must be alerted to. She opened the hand that held the milk bottles, but the crash neither woke her, nor convinced her that the image was real.
"Petunia?" Vernon called out, stumbling his way into the bathroom. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she called back. "Well, I mean…"
No, it's nothing. It means nothing. Just my baby sister's baby boy. She stared, silent, at the wide green eyes below the bloody scar. Harry stared back at her.
Slowly Petunia bent and gathered Harry in her arms. Carefully she carried him back inside and sat him beside Dudley in Dudley's cot. Dudley poked Harry to see if he would poke back. Harry battered Dudley's band away and scowled. Petunia coaxed the letter out of Harry's hand and left him to defend himself against her son; there would no magic out of him so young.
She had not yet finished the letter and Vernon had not finished shaving when Harry began to cry. Petunia dropped the letter and ran straight upstairs. Harry had his fists wrapped tightly around the bars of the cot. He scowled at Petunia when she entered.
"Ma!" he screamed. "Ma!"
"She isn't here," Petunia snapped at him. "There's not point crying; she's never coming to get you."
"Ma!"
Dudley looked at Harry curiously, as though amused by the fact that so much effort had so little effect. Harry's face was red, and Petunia had not come closer.
"She's not here!" Petunia shouted.
She wrenched Harry from the cot and held him roughly under his arms.
"She's not here."
Harry shut his mouth and stopped crying, but he was staring at her again. His eyes so disconcertingly like his mother's. Petunia could just remember holding Lily when she had been no bigger than Harry was. She cuddled him to her chest to avoid that look and didn't notice the tears streaming down her cheeks.
~*~
Author: Rose Williams (RoseWill),
rosewilliamsRating: PG 13.
Warnings: Character death.
Prompt: 43. Any coward can fight a battle when he's sure of winning, but give me the man who has pluck to fight when he's sure of losing. That's my way, sir; and there are many victories worse than defeat.--George Eliot, a.k.a. Mary Ann Evans.
Summary: Petunia never liked magic, Lily used to like her sister. Four rather imporant scenes in their lives.
I would like to apologise most sincerely for the lateness of this fic. All feedback is greatly appreciated, although I won't be able to reply to it for a couple of weeks.
Any coward can fight a battle when he's sure of winning
Lily received a tea set for her fifth birthday. When it was first unpacked it was mostly green and pink. When Lily came to use it the following afternoon it was mostly yellow and blue. Petunia refused to go near the strange toy for three days, but eventually she gave into Lily's demands and the blue and yellow tea-set was used every afternoon for the rest of the term. The Easter holidays came, bringing with them Petunia's eighth birthday and her first real bicycle.
Petunia ran down the hall and burst into the living room. Lily stumbled in after her and both girls stood transfixed by the pink contraption standing beside the table.
“Happy Birthday, Petunia,” their father said, beaming from the doorway.
Petunia spun around to face him, eyes still wide with delight. Mr Evans chuckled. Petunia launched herself at him and was lifted up and swung through the air.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cried, and squealed when her father kissed her sloppily on the forehead. Mrs Evans caught Petunia as Mr Evans dropped her into her arms and Petunia hugged her mother tightly.
Lily ignored her parents. She stood quite still, merely looking at the bicycle, following the curve of the handlebars and the loop of the crossbar with her eyes, but not daring to approach it.
“You can have my old bike, Lily,” Petunia said generously.
“It’s just the right size for you now,” Mr Evans pronounced.
Lily nodded, but didn't smile; the bike was green, only pink was a worse colour.
“Can I have a go on this one?” she asked.
“It’s pink,” Petunia said. “You’d look ridiculous.”
Lily privately thought that Petunia looked ridiculous in her mauve smocked dress and hair ribbons. That colour didn’t go much better with the pink of the bike than the orange of Lily’s hair. But their father chuckled.
“Maybe eventually, Lily,” he said. “But today is Petunia’s birthday.”
Petunia smiled warmly at her father, and poked her tongue out at Lily when he wasn’t looking. She waltzed over to the bike and pulled the ribbon off it. She wheeled it out from between the chairs and delicately stepped across the frame.
“Not inside, Petunia,” Mrs Evans scolded lightly.
Petunia looked at her parents with wide, desperate eyes.
“Let her ride it, Greta,” Mr Evans said. “It’s her birthday.”
“Be it on your head, Henry,” Greta said. “Breakfast in fifteen minutes.”
Greta disappeared into the kitchen. Henry and Lily watched, one proud the other bitter, as Petunia kicked off from the carpet and wobbled her way down the hall. She ran into the front door, but didn’t break anything on the way.
give me the man who has pluck to fight when he's sure of losing.
Lily wouldn't even have been there but that Petunia had insisted. The stress of sixth year exams coupled with the various strategies Black and Potter employed to overcome it would have been preferable to celebrating Petunia's birthday with her fiancé and his family. Vernon Dursley was a man Lily had no patience for; at least Potter had a sense of humour, of a sort. But Lily had learnt not to pick fights she couldn't win gracefully.
Instead she gritted her and forced herself to smile while making small talk with Petunia's soon to be sister in law. It was easy; all she had to do was nod politely as the girl described her dog's litter of puppies in minute detail. It surprised Lily to remember that Marge was two years older than her. In the Wizarding world she was adult; at home she was to be treated with patronizing sweetness by odious non-relatives.
The end of dinner and the presentation of the tea things rescued Lily from Marge's dogs, but subjected her to Mrs Dursley. Mr and Mrs Dursley were a prim couple, who obviously expected Lily to be the quiet little sister, as though they were living in a Jane Austen novel.
"How is school, Lily?" Mrs Dursley asked.
"I enjoy it," Lily said, smiling slightly at the strangled look Petunia wore, paused in the middle of pouring tea.
"And what subjects will you be taking A levels in?"
Lily tried to catch Petunia's eye, either to reassure her that she wouldn't make a scene, or to see that fleeting look of horror again. Petunia had turned away to talk to their mother, so Lily tried to think of a way to translate Magic subjects into Muggle ones.
"English and Maths, Physics, and, ah, Social Studies," she added, for Defence.
"A girl as pretty as you doesn't need to do so much school, do you?" Mr Dursley asked, seeming genuinely confused.
Lily decided to take that as a compliment and smiled as she sipped her tea.
"Are you learning useful things?" Mrs Dursley asked.
"Oh, yes."
"What sorts of things do public schools teach these days?"
Lily felt a flash of indignation of Petunia's behalf; because she had simply done her O levels at the local comprehensive.
"Magic spells," Lily said. "And how to make potions."
Mr Dursley barked a rough laugh and Lily chuckled with him. Vernon, however must have heard her, because he turned red. Petunia glared at Lily as though she had destroyed the whole family's future and Greta picked up the half finished tray of biscuits.
"I have some more of these in the kitchen," she told Marge kindly. "Lily, if you'll be so kind."
Lily nodded politely to the guests and stood up to follow her mother.
"I just thought I would save you from Petunia," Greta said, opening the pantry to reach for the biscuit tin.
Petunia had seen fit to follow them, with her tea.
"Is there are a problem, dear?" Greta asked. "Does Vernon prefer chocolate to biscuits? I think we still have some of the packet the Willinghams gave us."
"I have some Chocolate Frogs," Lily offered with a helpful grin.
She could see Remus shaking his head at her to hide his grin, and perhaps Black behind him giving her the thumbs up.
"You will do no such thing," Petunia hissed. "Do you know how difficult it has been for Vernon and I to hide what you are from his family? You can't even keep it quiet for one evening."
"It was supposed to be a joke," Lily spat back. "I hardly expected them to take me seriously."
"You could ruin everything I have," Petunia said. "Would you have given them a demonstration?"
"Like this?" Lily asked, sweetly. She took her wand out of her sock and aimed it at the teacup in Petunia's hand. With a faint 'pop' the delicately pattered china disappeared to be replaced by a mouse.
Petunia shrieked and dropped the cup. James Potter would have laughed at her expression. Lily suppressed her own grin. The mouse ran straight for the corner where Greta grabbed it by the tail. Petunia recovered herself quickly enough to grab Lily's wrist. Lily glared back at her.
“How dare you?” Petunia said, voice caught between fear and disgust.
Lily held her wand firmly in her fist, still pointing at Petunia until Petunia pulled herself taller. Greta laid a gentle hand on Lily’s arm. Petunia let her go and Lily lowered the wand, but did not put it away, and did not take her eyes from Petunia.
“I’m a witch,” she said. “It’s what I do.”
“It shouldn't be allowed,” Petunia spat back.
“We’ve had this conversation, Pet,” Greta said gently.
Lily wondered how much never made it in the letters she received.
"I'm not six years old," Petunia told her mother. "And I'm not fourteen, either. I can think for myself. It's unnatural, I don't want you doing it in my home."
“This is my home, too,” Lily said, ignoring the little voice that said she should have stayed at school, at least to keep an eye on Potter and Black. She fingered the green in gold bracelet they had given her for her birthday and smiled remembering how nervous James had been, how keen for her approval.
"This is a normal house," Petunia said. "You're a freak, you shouldn't be allowed back here after where you went."
Lily felt her blood freeze, felt time stop. "Freak" was the least of what Black's cousins had called her and Severus had told her twice that she shouldn't be allowed at the school because of where she'd come from.
"Petunia," Greta hissed.
She held the mouse out to Lily. "It was one of my favourites," she said.
Lily absently waved her wand and the teacup reappeared, without its tea. Petunia shivered and refused to take it back from her mother.
"I don't want you going back there," Petunia told Lily. "You could give it all up now and save us all a lot of trouble."
"I am going back to school," Lily said, refusing the enticing excuse to avoid the war, avoid Potter and Black, avoid the looks she would get from the Slytherins and some of the Ravenclaws when she arrived back at the school.
"I don't ever want to see you again," Petunia said, her voice icy calm.
Greta dropped the cup.
Lily waved her wand with a muttered Reparo and levitated the cup back onto the kitchen bench. She smiled briefly at her mother.
"Give my best to dad, and excuse me from the Dursleys. Good bye, Petunia, Happy Birthday."
Greta reached for her younger daughter, but Lily disappeared with a 'crack' before her mother's hand could close around her arm.
That's my way, sir
She tried, when James yelled at her to take Harry and run, to obey him. Most of her wanted to obey, wanted to take her child and keep him safe and part of that considered risking Apparating. But there was also a small part of her that wanted to stay and fight; the part that told her she was a Gryffindor as well as a woman, a soldier as well as a mother.
She felt the flash of green and heard James's body hit the ground without registering the sound for what it was. But the part of her that wanted to stay and fight got louder.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs and she turned; couldn't force herself to Disapparate. She would stand to defend her son and run like a scared thing that knew it would lose; she was not scared.
"Not Harry! Not Harry!" she shouted, hardly hearing what she said. "Please, I'll do anything."
"Stand aside, stand aside, girl."
"You will not take him."
"Stand aside." He had his wand trained on her, pointed at her chest, but probably aimed at the baby in his cot behind her.
"Take me instead," she offered. "I'm the Mudblood."
"Stand aside, you silly girl."
Lily raised her wand.
"Stand aside, now."
"Not Harry, please no." He's Pureblood, you beast, you… she felt tears rising behind her eyes. You wanted to kill me. "Take me, kill me instead."
Voldemort raised his wand, aiming through her to the baby, lying in his cot.
"Not Harry! Please. Have mercy," she screamed, was there any part of him that had once been human? "Have mercy."
Voldemort's first clenched around his wand and he laughed. She didn't hear the words he said. But she saw the spell coming and knew that it would hit Harry if it didn't hit her. It wasn't much, but anything rather than Harry. She'd never liked the colour green.
there are many victories worse than defeat.
Petunia knew something was wrong from the moment Vernon had mentioned Lily. It reminded her of the shiver she always felt when she'd played the plastic tea-set Lily had once had. So she wasn't surprised to find a baby in a basket on her doorstep the following morning. Of all the things she had been dreading, that hadn't made the list.
It wasn't surprise that caused her to scream; screaming was simply what you did when faced with an indescribable situation that others must be alerted to. She opened the hand that held the milk bottles, but the crash neither woke her, nor convinced her that the image was real.
"Petunia?" Vernon called out, stumbling his way into the bathroom. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she called back. "Well, I mean…"
No, it's nothing. It means nothing. Just my baby sister's baby boy. She stared, silent, at the wide green eyes below the bloody scar. Harry stared back at her.
Slowly Petunia bent and gathered Harry in her arms. Carefully she carried him back inside and sat him beside Dudley in Dudley's cot. Dudley poked Harry to see if he would poke back. Harry battered Dudley's band away and scowled. Petunia coaxed the letter out of Harry's hand and left him to defend himself against her son; there would no magic out of him so young.
She had not yet finished the letter and Vernon had not finished shaving when Harry began to cry. Petunia dropped the letter and ran straight upstairs. Harry had his fists wrapped tightly around the bars of the cot. He scowled at Petunia when she entered.
"Ma!" he screamed. "Ma!"
"She isn't here," Petunia snapped at him. "There's not point crying; she's never coming to get you."
"Ma!"
Dudley looked at Harry curiously, as though amused by the fact that so much effort had so little effect. Harry's face was red, and Petunia had not come closer.
"She's not here!" Petunia shouted.
She wrenched Harry from the cot and held him roughly under his arms.
"She's not here."
Harry shut his mouth and stopped crying, but he was staring at her again. His eyes so disconcertingly like his mother's. Petunia could just remember holding Lily when she had been no bigger than Harry was. She cuddled him to her chest to avoid that look and didn't notice the tears streaming down her cheeks.
~*~
no subject
I always wonder what sort of parents the Evans were, to let such animosity develop between sisters. Because I imagine Petunia wasn't very nice, but for such a family discord to happen, I imagine Lily and the parents were far from faultless either.
The way Lily threatened Petunia with her wand... no, just no. I know my mother would have smacked me for that, even if my sister had been awful to me.
The last scene was really heart-breaking. Poor Harry, caught once again in a feud that should have nothing to do with him.
no subject
The way Lily threatened Petunia with her wand... no, just no. I know my mother would have smacked me for that, even if my sister had been awful to me.
I was unsure about that. It sort of wrote itself in by accident and became too important. But then, Petunia is scared of the magic, not of what Lily might do to her. And I agree that it's not all Petunia's fault. There's a gorgeous Narni/Harry Potter crossover which does very well with the discord between the sisters.
The last scene has been with me, waiting to be written, for such a long time now. I'm so glad I was able to make it work.
no subject
Just two small things I wanted to point out: Lily decided to take that as a compliment and smiled as she sipped her. I think you meant to add "tea". And in the summary, it says "for" instead of "four" - I point this one out in particular because I know I almost skipped the fic because of it, which is incredibly snobby of me, but just in case I wouldn't want you to lose readers, since this is a very worthwhile fic.
no subject
Thank you so much for catching those errors. I'm off to fix them now.
no subject
"A girl as pretty as you doesn't need to do so much school, do you?" Mr Dursley asked, seeming genuinely confused.
This too, felt real, especially that he meant well while he said it...that whole scene with the Dursleys was quietly heartbreaking, and then to follow it up with the argument and nastiness in the kitchen. So very well done!
Great story!
no subject
I almost cut the teaset. But I couldn't because it's my father's - he wanted a teaset for his sixth birthday, and his parents weren't entirely pleased.
The actual scenes came reasonably easily, once I'd discovered which ones I needed to write. I'm so! pleased it worked. Especially the Dursleys, it seemed so strange writing about them (Vernon's parents - I mean really, are we sure he ever had any).
no subject
Just one note... it would be absolutely unheard of in the 70s for anyone to take 6 A levels, and Lily, muggleborn, would know that. 3 was normal, 2 quite adequate and 4 exceptional.
no subject
And thanks for the note. I'll see what I can do to update that. I was going off the Australian system - all I know.
no subject
no subject
it was neatly closed without feeling glib or unlifelike.
I'm so glad I was able to do that.
There's a line in one of
no subject
no subject
Petunia fascinating; I'm glad I could do her justice.
no subject
no subject
I am pleased that you found it realistic.