Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me.
-
-
-
"I can't believe you're making me go to this Christmas party," she muttered, shoving her gloved hands deeper into her pockets.
He grinned. "Hey, you got the invite from your old school chum. I accepted because food will be provided." She scowled mightily.
The door opened; the garish plastic wreath banged against it. "Elaina!" Petunia said. "How are you, darling? It's been years!"
Elly submitted herself to an air kiss on each cheek. "It has been too long," she said through slightly gritted teeth. She stepped back. "This is my husband."
"Mark Cohen," he said, offering his hand. Petunia shook it with a limp-fish grip.
"Ever so nice to meet you, Mac."
"Mark."
"Do come inside," Petunia continued, holding the door open. The warm living room of the Dursley house was filled with people stuffing their faces and obviously imbibing far too much eggnog. "Make yourselves at home."
Elly stepped into the house, taking off her coat and handing it to Petunia. "Mm, food," Mark said, leaning over to whisper in her ear.
Elly poked him in the ribs. "You bring me something to eat," she said. Mark rolled his eyes, but nodded. Elly waded her way through the crowd of people, catching sight of a loveseat with an empty cushion. "Mind if I sit here?"
"Make yourself at home, love," the woman shrugged. Elly did so, tucking her skirt over her knees. "Your husband works with Dursley too?"
"Oh, no," Elly said. "Lizzy and I were schoolmates."
The woman lifted an eyebrow. "Lizzy?"
"Petunia," Elly corrected, rolling one shoulder in a shrug. "She went by her middle name, Elizabeth, during school. We all called her Lizzy."
"She looks like a Petunia to me," the woman snorted. "Prim and prissy and far too fussy."
"She's always been like that," Elly laughed. "I'm Elly Cohen, by the way."
"Rhonda Bitterroot," her seatmate said, shaking Elly's proffered hand. She was a rather plump, pleasant-looking woman. "My husband Donald, he works with Vernon Dursley. They hold this party every year. Never seen you about, though."
"Oh, Mark and I have been living in London for the past few years. I'm a journalist," Elly explained.
"You haven't missed much, my dear," Rhonda said. "Especially when Petunia had that baby of hers. You'd see less fuss at a royal christening."
"I haven't seen the baby yet," Elly said, folding her hands. "What does he look like?"
"Like a soggy beanbag, dear."
Elly blinked, but understanding quickly dawned on her when Petunia entered the living room with an immense child on her hip. "Dudders wanted to say hello," she cooed. "Say hello, Dudders!"
"'Ro!," the toddler howled. The guests pasted pained smiles on their faces. "'Ro!" he shouted again in a nasally loud voice.
"Elaina, this is my little boy," Petunia said proudly. "My little Duddy-poo. Say hello to Elaina, precious."
"'Ro!" he yowled again.
"He's very…very sweet," Elly said stiffly. "How old is he?"
"Three years," Petunia said. Dudley leaned on her bony hip, his pudgy hands reaching to snatch a piece of candy from the bowl on the end table. He stuffed into his mouth, wrapper and all. "He's absolutely angelic, isn't he? All that blond hair."
"Oh, definitely," Elly said.
"Any buns in the oven for you and Mick, then?" Petunia inquired.
"Mark and I are thinking about it," Elly said. "We're just not sure about it yet."
"There's nothing better than the joys of motherhood, Elaina," Petunia said. She patted Dudley's fat back. "I'd better keep making the rounds. Do enjoy yourself."
Rhonda waited till she had moved on. "Fat little imp, isn't he?" she murmured.
"He's immense!" Elly gasped.
"Takes after his father, that one does," Rhonda nodded. "You mark my words, if you thought those American children were getting fat, this one will outweigh the heaviest by the time he's five."
"He doesn't look much like Lizzy, except for the blond hair," Elly said. "But then again, Lily didn't look much like Lizzy, and they were sisters."
Rhonda blinked. "I didn't know Petunia had a sister," she said.
"Oh, yes," Elly said. "Lily Evans. She's four years younger than Lizzy."
"If she's anything like her sister, she must be a hellion," Rhonda snorted.
"Lily is completely different," Elly reassured her. "Lily is absolutely gorgeous. A little redhead. I haven't seen her since she was ten years old, but back then she was the sweetest child I've ever seen. Bright, too. The teachers loved her. She was so funny, always spouting off cheeky answers. Everyone liked Lizzy, but Lily was just adorable."
"Funny how things work out, isn't it?" Rhonda said. "Where's Lily now?
Elly sighed. "I'm not sure," she said. "Lily came to the academy for four years, but when she was eleven she didn't arrive for school. Lizzy came alone, saying Lily was accepted to a different school and chose to go there instead. I haven't seen her since."
"Wonder where she went off to," Rhonda mused.
"I haven't heard from her in years," Elly shrugged. "She was grades below me, too. I doubt she'd remember me."
Rhonda looked around the room. "I don't see any pictures of her about," she said. "Were the sisters close?"
"Only when Lily was attended the academy. Once she left…well, Lizzy never mentioned her again." Elly shook her head. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I think I'm going to stop by the loo."
"Don't blame you; it makes me sick too," Rhonda said.
Elly navigated her way through the living room and found herself in the kitchen. Trays of food covered the counters and the sink was full of dirty dishes. She stopped and looked around for another door, preferably one that would lead to a bathroom.
The writer in her kicked in as she studied the kitchen. She could easily see signs of the house's occupants- large mugs still half full with tepid black coffee, dainty teacups with pink lipstick prints, brightly colored plastic sipper cups.
Elly paused. There were far too many sipper cups in the sink. Not even Dudley, fat as he was, could drink that much. The more she studied, the more she noticed- two plastic children's plates, two sets of children's utensils, two different sizes in children's shoes on the rack by the back door.
"'Scuse me."
Elly nearly jumped out of her skin. "Wh-what?" she stammered.
A tiny hand tugged on her skirt. "'Scuse me," the little boy asked politely. "Can I have a drink, please?"
"Who are you?" Elly whispered.
The tiny boy stared up at her, his oversized glasses slipping down the bridge of his pert nose. "Harry," he said.
Elly knelt down to his level. "Harry," she repeated. He was a beautiful little boy. His messy dark hair was a sharp contrast with his pale skin and his brilliant bright eyes, and clothes were old and faded and far too large for him.
"Can I please have a drink?" he repeated.
"Oh…oh, of course, honey," Elly said. She rummaged through a cupboard, pulled out a blue cup, and filled it with water. "Here you are."
"Thank you," Harry said. He drank the water quickly, his small lips making little slurping noises against the rim. Harry realized she was staring at him. He looked up at her over the edge of the cup, his eyes wide. They were an amazing color: brilliant bottle-green, with amber flecks around the pupil and incredibly long lashes. Harry blinked and cocked his head to the side.
"Your eyes…" Elly whispered. "Your eyes look so familiar."
"Harry Potter!"
The little boy jumped, dropping his cup. Water splashed on the pristine floor. He started to dart past, but Petunia grabbed him by the back of his shirt. "You'll not be getting away from me, Harry Potter," she said through her teeth. "I told you to stay in the cupboard!" She gave him a firm shake. "Do as you're told, child!"
"He wasn't doing anything wrong," Elly said. Petunia's long, bony fingers still clutched the back of Harry's too-large shirt; she could see the soft fair skin of his neck and back. "Please…Lizzy, he wasn't doing anything wrong. He was just thirsty."
Petunia looked up, noticing Elly for the first time. She let go of Harry's shirt. He tumbled to the floor, landing on his small forearms. He whimpered at the impact. Elly bent down quickly to help him to his feet. "Are you all right?" she asked softly. She smoothed his messy dark hair. He nodded.
"Go to the cupboard, child," Petunia said, her voice quiet and tense. The child fled. Elly heard the swift click of a door opening and closing.
"Who is-"
"My nephew," Petunia said. She picked up the plastic cup. "I'm sure you remember my sister."
"Lily?" Elly said. "Of course I remember Lily."
Petunia's lips curled. "That child is her brat," she said.
"I didn't know she got married," Elly said. "Where is she now? Why is her child with you?"
"Dead," Petunia said shortly, throwing the cup in the sink. "Her no-account husband too. The boy was left to us when he was fifteen months old."
"Oh, the poor thing," Elly murmured.
"The brat doesn't deserve to be pitied," Petunia snapped. "He deserves to be shipped out to an orphanage."
Elly twisted her fingers together. "Then…why do you keep him here?" she ventured.
Petunia Dursley turned her back. For a moment, Elly remembered her as someone else- as Lizzy Evans, a studious, bright girl with blonde hair and a rare smile. And when she spoke, she sounded even more like the girl she had been.
"I keep him," she whispered, "because…he looks at me, and I remember. I remember when Lily used to look at me with the same bright eyes." She swallowed. Her eyes steeled, and Petunia Dursley overwhelmed Lizzy Evans. "I'd best get back to my guests."
She left the kitchen. Elly sank into a chair, memories overwhelming her. She could remember the academy when the dormitories were filled with the giggles and chatter of nearly a hundred teenage girls as they moved back into their rooms after the summer holidays.
"Watch it, Connelly, the blood'll all rush to your head," one of her roommates said.
Elly's feet were propped up on the bed; her head dangled off the side and her hair brushed against the floor. "It's relaxing, Kate, you ought to try it," she retorted. Kate rolled her eyes and turned back to her bureau.
The bedroom door opened. "Who goes there?" Elly hollered. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and leaped up. "Lizzy! It's about time you arrived!"
Elizabeth Evans, age fifteen like her roommates, entered the room with her trunk in tow. "Elaina," she said. "Katherine."
"You needn't be so formal, Lizzy, we've been rooming together for ages," Elly said. "How've you been? How was your holidays? What took you so long to get here? Checking Lily in, I suppose, weren't you?"
"My sister is no longer attending the academy," she said stiffly. She set her trunk at the foot of her bed and unlocked it.
"What?" Kate exclaimed. "But you said the Evans girls have always attended here. Lizzy, why would Lily-"
"She was accepted to …a different school," she replied. "And I would prefer it if you called me by my first name."
"Your first name's Petunia," Elly scoffed. "Why would you want to go by a name as ghastly as that? Besides, Lizzy and Lily sound so well together."
"Exactly," Petunia said. "I don't wish to be associated with her any longer."
"What's gotten into you, Evans?" Kate asked as she folded up a blouse and placed it in her drawer. "Had a falling-out with your sister, have you?"
"More than a falling-out," Petunia said. "She's a freak. She's gone off to school at…in Scotland, and I don't wish to talk about it any longer." With a decisive click, she closed the lid of her trunk
The last two years of school went by. Elly watched as her friend moved on with her new name, moving into a different life and a different set of friends. Petunia Evans wasn't like Lizzy; she wasn't content to be studious and respected in her own circle of friends. She became part of the inner circle, an integral part of the elite groups. Lizzy Evans was only concerned about getting high marks, but Petunia Evans wanted to know everything about everybody. Graduation came and went. Elly received the invitation for the wedding of Petunia Evans and Vernon Dursley, but she was working in London. The only news she received were Christmas newsletters full of pompous reports of the years' doings, comings, and goings. An announcement arrived about the birth of Dudley Vernon Dursley; Elly, quite frankly, didn't much care by then. Petunia was not the girl she had known. So many years had gone by. The days of the academy were long gone, but the memories of two sisters were still fresh in her mind.
Elly tiptoed down the hallway. There was a door underneath the staircase, a door with a lock and a vent. She knelt down, tugging her skirt over her knees, and tapped lightly on the door.
"I'm sorry, Aunt P'tunia," a tiny voice whispered. "I didn't mean to be a dist'bance."
"You weren't a disturbance, and this isn't you aunt," she said softly. "Can you open the door?"
The slot in the vent opened, and a pair of wide emerald-colored eyes regarded her solemnly. "H'llo," the child said.
"Hello, dear," Elly smiled. "My name is Elly Cohen."
"I'm Harry," the toddler responded. "Harry James Potter. James was my daddy's name."
"That's lovely, darling," Elly said.
"My mummy's name was Lily," Harry continued. "I like that."
"I knew her," Elly told him.
The green eyes lit up. "Mummy?" he said. "You knowed Mummy?!"
"Yes, yes I did," Elly said. She rearranged herself into a more comfortable sitting position. "She was only a little girl when I knew her, but she was very sweet."
"Was she pretty?" Harry breathed. "I always wanted a pretty mummy."
"Yes, darling, she was very pretty. With long red hair and lovely eyes like yours."
Harry let out a soft, wistful sigh. "I had a pretty mummy," he said. He sounded content.
"Harry, I was wondering…" Elly began. She stopped, took a breath, and began again. "Harry, how did your mummy die?"
The dark lashes drooped over the brilliant eyes. "Cars," he said.
"A car accident?"
The dark head nodded. "Uncle Vernon said my daddy was sloshed bad. What is sloshed?" he asked.
Elly closed her eyes. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Just don't think on it." She should take her own advice; she had sudden mental images of ten-year-old Lily Evans in a crumpled up car, covered in blood. "Harry-"
"Elly?"
She turned around, startled. Her husband leaned against the doorframe, a glass of punch in each hand. "Is that broom closet particularly fascinating?"
Elly turned back to the door. The slot was closed. The green eyes were gone.
"Oh," she said. "Oh, yes. Fine. I'm fine."
She returned to the party. She returned to her life in London. Years went by.
But sometimes she wondered…whatever happened to Lily's child, to the little boy with emerald for eyes?
She just supposed she would never know.
-
-
-
Author's Note:
I can't remember why I wrote this. I think it was for some kind of Mugglenet fanfiction contest. I don't they ever announced the winners. Oh, well, I still like how it turned out.
Any other Rentheads out there? Because that's totally Mark wandering around through here. Elly is my original character for a Rent fic I've been working on. Hopefully it's eventually show up on this site.