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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A boy was waiting in front of the low counter, his familiar face turning towards the bookkeeper as he appeared between the shelves, lumbering ahead when Petunia had stopped. Hair a shade of blonde even lighter than her own brushed the boy's collarbones, prominently revealed by the gaping neckline of a strange tunic patterned with big birds. A drying branch was tucked behind his ear, small curled leaves dusting his shoulders and clashing horribly with the orange fabric. His eyes nicked Petunia's for just a breath, bulging and bright, before they settled on the bookkeeper once more, who groaned in exasperation.
"You again."
The boy smiled without any ire. "Did one of me come by already?"
The bookkeeper ignored his nonsense. "I told you a hundred times, I won't sell that rag, let alone print it. Pander it elsewhere."
"Why would you sell a rag? Instead you should consider my magazin."
"Stop testing me, boy."
Looking honestly confused, said boy tilted his head. "What test? I already decided you would be a good place to publish from, no need to pass a test."
Petunia finally remembered his unusual name: Xenophilius Lovegood.
She had only met him once, at the Weasley's get-together. He had grown taller since then, his hair longer and clipped at uneven lengths as if he had taken dull scissors to the light strands himself. But his sense of fashion was as horrible as back then, just like his voice remained soft and unassuming.
"People have a right to read my magazine and know about -," he continued.
The bookkeeper interrupted him with a scoff. "Know about what? All you're writing is insane nonsense - look at this!"
The man's hand was surprisingly swift when it snatched one of the papers from the counter. Petunia, still standing among the towering protection of the shelves, only now realised that this must be the magazine Xenophilius was trying to sell.
The bookkeeper started reading the first headline, a scowl marring his face: "'Minister of Magic moonlighting at Vampire Bars in the hopes of infiltrating the Dark ranks...' Where do you get this garbage?"
The paper was thrown to the ground and the man stomped off between the shelves, apparently done with all of this. His receding back almost looked like he was fleeing into the shadows sliced by slanted beams of light, safer between all those unseeing covers than out in the open with Xenophilius guileless gaze clinging to him.
And now that he was gone, Petunia found herself the focus of those same eyes.
"I remember your name. Like a flower - Petunia."
Petunia wasn't sure if his words really deserved the wave of embarrassment that washed through her, he didn't seem to mean anything by them. "... Yes. Xenophilius, right?"
