No Regrets

He has her nose.

It's not something anyone else notices about Harry; after all, he's only a month old, and already has most of James's features, plus my eyes. People don't notice the nose.

But it is the nose of my sister.

I suppose it is Grandpa Evans's nose, too. But Grandpa died long before I was born, so I don't remember his nose - I just remember seeing it.

I haven't thought of my sister in years, not since Mum left us, right after I left Hogwarts. Petunia said it was my fault, that I'd broken both our parents' hearts. It is true that they'd assumed I would go back to the muggle world, but it is also true that Dad died because of reckless driving, and Mum just wasn't the same since. Dad was Mum's world, and she just couldn't go on without him.

The clock in the family room tells me James will be home from work soon, and I sigh with relief. His job as an Auror in Training (in other words, he does office work as well as training) keeps him busy. I was also going to be an Auror, but I got pregnant with Harry.

I have no regrets.

Still, having a husband fighting Dark Wizards is unsettling. I prefer it when everyone's together. Even having Sirius around is some commiseration, and he sometimes makes my head spin. I'd trust him with my life, though.

Harry is asleep, and there is nothing else to occupy me. Everyone's at work, and I've never been one to sit still, unless I'm having a conversation.

So I go to Harry's room, and put him in his cradle. That, of course, kills about four minutes.

You should write to Petunia, a voice in my head says.

I roll my eyes. "No."

You're right, bad idea - it'd be better to phone her.

People always assume that Petunia and I started fighting the moment I got my Hogwarts letter. Not so. The truth was, I wasn't happy about it at first; I went to Hogwarts because I thought it might explain why I'd made things happen without trying, and because it was an excuse not to go to school with annoying Debbie Creevey, but a part of me worried that Petunia was right, that they would all be freaks and I'd be the only normal one.

Then I realized we were wrong. Petunia, however, scoffed at my "ridiculous definition of normalcy," and decided I was a freak.

Thus, the fighting began.

"I'm not calling her," I mutter as I watch my son. "She treated me like dirt after I decided to stop being a snob, and now she blames me for two losses. I don't think she deserves my precious time."

She's your only family left.

I raise my eyebrows. "James-"

Your only family prior to Harry and James left.

"We haven't spoken in a year, and I'd prefer to keep it that way," I snap.

I hurry out of Harry's room, but there's no possible way to run from one's conscience.

Yvonne McDermot says she has a son Harry's age now. Don't you think you should congratulate her? You'd have an excuse for being late, you only heard yesterday when you ran into 'Vonny at the muggle grocery store.

"No," I say firmly, heading down the stairs.

Your parents would've wanted you to have.

I freeze, my foot in midair.

Go. Do it now.

I know I have to, so I head for the phone. We have it because I insisted on it, even though I don't have anyone to call. It just feels more comforting to have some remnants of life before Hogwarts.

I pick up the phone, and dial. I'm only doing this for you, Mum and Dad.

The phone rings two times, and I hear Petunia's voice. "Hello?"

I pause.

"Hello?" Petunia says again. Other people would think she was being patient, but I know better.

"P-Petunia? It's me," I say.

It's Petunia's turn to pause.

"I spoke to Yvonne yesterday, at the super-"

"Yes, she told me," Petunia interrupts. "And how you apparently have a son now. You never informed me of that."

I can tell this is starting to go badly. "No, I didn't. But you never told me about your baby - what was his name again? Donny?"

"I don't think it's any of your business," Petunia says coldly. "I thought we'd agreed to never speak again?"

Tell her you want to make up, the voice says.

But I don't, because that would be a lie. I don't want her to hate me, but I have no desire to include her in my life anymore.

"I wanted to congratulate you on the birth of my nephew," I tell her, hoping she won't use that as a reason to incriminate me.

"A bit late now," Petunia says stiffly. "Look, Lily, you have a new life now, and being part of it is simply not an option for Dudley or I."

"I never said you couldn't be in my life to begin with," I say softly. I'm not sure why; it's not as though I really care that she turned into an anti-magic nut.

I think about telling her Harry has her nose, though. She deserves to know that - maybe it'll even ease her bitterness.

"-and then you refused to come home," Petunia is saying. "You wouldn't come back into our lives. And then you married that Potter, who probably has ancestors that we put in their places, at least-"

I cannot believe my ears.

"Don't you dare!" I cry. "Don't even think about making remarks about my husband's family!"

"You used to make remarks about him all the time," Petunia points out scathingly. "You hated him - I expect he put a spell on you."

I start to shake with rage. "You know what, Petunia? I never thought even you would sink that low. Leave James alone. He changed. And never bewitched me."

Petunia lets out a derisive laugh. "You're raving. Now, if you don't mind, I have things I could be doing."

"FINE!" I yell. "And tell Dudley and whoever your husband is that they have my sympathy!"

I slam the phone into the receiver, and close my eyes.

I know it's her loss, and I refuse to let a madwoman like Petunia get me down.

The only reason I even consider her a sister anymore is because of genetics. She is of no importance to me.

Of course, I suppose I still love her. No, scratch that - I know I do.

But Petunia's right; we've taken two different paths in life, and we both have to accept that.

When James gets home five minutes later, I'm doing the crossword.

He looks at me, and frowns. "Are you alright?"

I smile at him. "Just have a little headache, I'll be all right."

I give him a kiss, and go on with my day, which has been otherwise perfectly normal, thank you very much.