Petunia was always the worse sister - not as pretty, not as kind and especially not as magical as Lily. Jealousy and bitterness rule her life, until one fateful encounter changes her destiny ...
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Petunia was always the lesser out of the two Evaness...
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Sunlight dappled through the leaves above her head, painting a dancing mosaic of gold onto Aspen's rubbery, black skin. It looked a little less glossy and oily than usual and Petunia was worried that it might be drying out because of the summer heat.
Should she bring him to cool down in the brook instead? This was what she did on those few especially hot days this summer, when the shed got too stuffy for him to sleep. It would have been hard to miss that Aspen was no friend of heat and sunlight, preferring the cool shadows of the forest or nighttime. Thankfully, what he was suffering through was an English summer: apart from a handful of dry heat waves it consisted mostly of cloudy skies and summer showers.
She glanced at the rope in her hands, its fibres spun so tightly it felt smooth in her palms. But would it aggravate his sensitive skin regardless, rubbing it raw and bloody?
Aspen didn't notice her worries, calmly butting his nose against her chin and temple, a huff of his icy breath cooling the little dots of sweat at her hairline.
"I'm afraid to hurt you," Petunia explained to him, gripping the rope tighter. It was smooth, but his skin was as well. It looked thin and delicate, stretched tight over his even thinner and more delicate frame, each rib and sinew outlined starkly. What if she broke his bones? Petunia certainly wasn't heavy-set, but she was nonetheless a tall girl, and her weight reflected her height.
But feeling Aspen nuzzle the fine hair at her temple, she conceded that he was quite tall as well. Thanks to his steady exercising in the form of nightly flights and hunts and his increased supply of meat as a consequence, he had hit a growth spurt that saw him more than a whole head taller than her. Petunia knew that he would get taller still, if Eugene was to be believed.
If he hadn't grown so much, Petunia would never even entertain the idea of trying to ride him.
Taking a breath to fortify her nerves, Petunia smoothed the blanket she had draped over his spindly back. Aspen was already used to its presence, as she had introduced it a month ago, letting him get comfortable with the feeling of something on his back and skin.
"Alright, don't be surprised," she told him, slowly looping the rope around his bony chest. Aspen didn't startle, calmly breathing against her neck. "I just want to make sure there can be no accidents."
Once the rope was securely fastened around him, Petunia tied the other end around her waist, tightening it around her thighs as well. The rope bunched the fabric of her white sundress but she ignored the wrinkles she would have to iron out.
For a second she stared at the rope hanging in the warm summer air between them, painted in sun spots that made it glow. It connected the two of them almost ... almost like a string of fate.
"Sometimes ..." Petunia whispers. "I wonder what would have happened to me if I hadn't met you, Aspen."
What if her mother had decided that not only Lily but also Petunia was too young to witness the death of her Grandmother? What if she had found Lily and Severus that day in the forest before ever laying eyes on Aspen?
