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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The lacy curtains of her kitchen window twitched in Petunia's tight grasp as she was watching her Mother's car finally leaving their gravel driveway. A few small pebbles skittered through the air and then the tires turned and carried Carol Evans away, leaving her daughter alone in the house.
Not for long, Petunia knew with the kind of jittery anticipation that made her skin prickle, hastening to the fireplace and kneeling down next to it. A small flame was quickly coaxed to life and Petunia's eyes continued darting to the old Grandfather clock in the hallway, counting the minutes. Her mother had taken a lot longer to leave for her afternoon tea than anticipated and Petunia hoped she would be able to get the fire big enough for Eugene's visit before the agreed upon meeting time.
When the kindling caught, she grabbed a handful of old newspapers kept in a small basket next to the fireplace, the thin material crinkling between her nervous fingers before being consumed by the hungry flames. Petunia's gaze, once more coming back from the relentlessly ticking fingers of the clock, just caught the smoking letters of a headline before the paper curled and glimmered, turning to grey flakes right in front of her - something about a rising rate of home invasions and homicides all over Britain.
Petunia frowned but it was already gone, like a fleeting thought she had failed to grasp onto. And before she could try to recall why it might unnerve her, the fire suddenly whooshed green, claiming all her attention and making her heart stutter.
Petunia only had time to straighten up and take a few steps back before Eugene was stepping through the flames, dusting small motes of ash out of his curly hair.
Petunia drank him in; ruffled like always, but he was wearing a nicer shirt than she was used to, even correctly buttoned, and his trousers were without any tears for once. He looked taller, or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part - Petunia had shot up a few inches this spring and since then quite feared she would now tower above him.
Eugene lifted his face and his chocolate eyes alighted on her. A wide grin split his lips. "Petals."
And before Petunia could collect her thoughts enough to reply, she was suddenly tugged against his chest - and then his lips were on hers and everything else ceased to matter. They had kissed often but somehow this felt more intense, more intimate, especially when his mouth opened against her own. Until now it had mostly been short, innocent pecks of their lips while this - this was wholly different.
It was messy and disorientating and for a second Petunia was painfully aware of her thin arms dangling at her side - what was she supposed to do with them?
And then her thoughts got consumed with the taste and warmth and feel of Eugene against her and when she blinked the next time her hands were already tangled hopelessly into his hair. Somehow they had stumbled onto the old couch in the living room, Petunia's feet touching the floor like it was the only thing anchoring her in reality.
