Work Text:
I wanna break this off (but don’t wanna break your heart)
now
“I want a divorce,” Petunia announced halfway through their dinner, sitting up straight and plastering a determined look on her face when he looked up from the Potions text he was studying.
“Are you certain?” he asked, placing his book down beside him to give her his full attention. “Once it is finalised, there is no turning back.”
Petunia hesitated for a moment, going through her bullet point list in her mind to strengthen her resolve. “Yes, I am. This is for the best for the both of us.”
then
Standing in front of the mirror, Petunia ran her hands through her hair, trying to force it back into place. The Autumn breeze had messed it up, and now she had escaped back inside, she could appropriately fix herself so that she met her own standards. She pulled at the hem of her black dress, grimacing slightly at it. Black really wasn’t her colour, but the standard script for funerals was black, though she was one of the only ones that actually followed that. Maybe wizards had different rules, though she wouldn’t know, as she hadn’t bothered to study every nuance of wizardkind before helping plan her sister’s funeral. The only hint of colour she had even worn was a red scrunchie (which was also not her colour, she looked much better in blues) as her sister had loved her Hogwarts house, and Petunia wanted to honour it in some way in her final goodbye. Even if they weren’t as close as they could have been (sometimes Petunia felt like she needed a guide to translate whatever magical thing Lily was talking about that week), she loved her baby sister, and would miss her despite it all.
She ran some cold water into her hands before lightly splashing it on her face, making sure to not get any down her clothes. It was one thing to have red rimmed eyes and a snotty nose at a funeral: it was another thing entirely to look like that at a pub, even if it was booked up for a wake. Most of the people that had come to the funeral had just skipped the wake anyways: maybe they were uncomfortable spending that long in the Muggle world, or perhaps they just did not know what a wake was. Regardless, having one last moment on this day to remember Lily was what she needed, so even if other people did not come she was not angry.
Giving herself one last once-over in the mirror, she nodded to her reflection, satisfied enough with what she saw. Honestly, she just wanted to get plastered now: she was beginning to be too aware of the fact that she was the only Evans left in the world (sure, Lily died a Potter, but she was an Evans first). She found that she was not the only one with that idea, as she recognised one of the men sitting at the bar, halfway through a pint. “Can I have a double vodka-coke, please?” Petunia asked the woman serving at the counter, deciding to go with Lily’s favourite drink.
The woman nodded, turning to prepare her drink, as the man she sat beside turned to look at her. He must have recognised her voice, or something, because it had been years since they last saw each other, and she was a very different person than she was back then. Petunia had gone through a failed engagement and a complete life change since then, as well as a whole new hair colour (and the death of both of her parents and her younger sister, but no need to state the obvious). “Petunia?” he said, his voice a bit foggy with grief. At her small inclination of her head, he added, “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m assuming you arranged this? It’s beautiful, she would have loved it.”
For some reason, the phrase ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ had become a tear trigger for her today, so she found herself blinking back tears as she forced a soft smile on her lips. “That’s what I was aiming for,” she admitted, taking the offered glass from the bartender eagerly. As she was about to hand over the cash, she found her hand being held back, as he used his other hand to pass the lady a fiver, asking her for another beer at the same time. “Thank you, you didn’t have to. I wasn’t sure if anyone else was going to arrange a wake: more people came to the funeral, there aren't as many of them here.”
That was as far as she could speculate about whether or not wizards held wakes whilst she was inside of a muggle pub. He pondered over that statement for a moment, before saying, “I think most of them aren’t comfortable drinking in a pub. I’m sure they are remembering Lily and James in their own ways in their own homes.”
She scrambled for the translation to that statement in the depths of her mind: they weren’t comfortable in a Muggle pub; they probably went to celebrate in the wizarding world. “And you, Severus?” she questioned, as surely he would rather be with people like him than in this little Muggle pub in Somerset.
Pulling a face, he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear, “I’m not exactly a favourite in those circles.” Louder, he said, “I went to most of the pubs in Cokeworth when I was younger, anyways. I’ve always wondered what a pub was like further down south.”
This caused her to actually smile: a small smile, sure, but it was there nonetheless. “And? What conclusions have you come to?”
“More expensive, otherwise it’s exactly the same.” He stared at her face for a moment, studying her features slightly. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we were children. It wasn’t fair of me to treat you as if you were lesser just because I thought I was smarter than you.”
It wasn’t fair of him to treat her as lesser because she was a Muggle, he meant. That one was easy to work out. God, all this evasive speech was giving her a headache. Maybe that was the real reason wizards pretended to hate Muggles so much: so that they didn’t have to figure out codenames and different speech patterns just to talk around them. She finished off her drink, instantly asking for another one, before turning to Severus and saying, “I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we were kids. I was bratty and annoying because I was jealous, as you are smarter than me, but I’ve been focusing on my own talents more these past few years and have finally accepted that I never needed to change.”
Yes, when she was younger she wanted to be a witch, and thought it unfair that Lily and Severus were magical when she wasn’t. However, she realised she didn’t need to be a witch to be good at things, and had finally decided to work towards a career that she would be proud of in the Muggle world. If you squinted, you might have been able to hear her even more subtle subtext: she was happy being a Muggle, because her sister had been targeted pretty much from day one for being a Muggle-born, and had inevitably ended up murdered. She may have missed out on the exciting magic and the fun new life, but at least she actually got to keep her life. She wanted her sister back.
“I heard that you and Lily were close in her last few years,” Severus finally changed the topic. “Did she tell you that we fell out?”
Petunia pursed her lips, which Severus let out a beer-flavoured sigh at. “She did, then.”
“Yes, you called her a slur and she wasn’t happy about it. She did say that you were friends again though, last year. You went to dinner at their house, and even got along with her husband.”
Slowly, he nodded. “We were getting along, yes. James and I would never be best friends, but we had began to respect each other. He was a good man, in the end. He just needed to grow up first.”
“And you needed to be dragged out of a cult,” Petunia added, and Severus let out a barking laugh at that.
“I should have expected her to tell you that too. Technically, I was still part of the cult, just spying on it for the… authorities.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Petunia spied the bartender unabashedly eavesdropping on their conversation, and she felt such a strong connection to that woman who she would never see again. Like recognises like: she loved harbouring gossip material about strangers too. It was one of the reasons she picked up a waitressing job whilst going through university, after all. “She said that you were a better person though: you had left behind all your racist ways. Was she being honest?”
Obsidian eyes met blue, emotion sparking between the two. “She was.”
From that point, it was almost inevitable where the night was ending. They shared a few more drinks whilst catching up, then Severus took her back to his house on the Knight Bus (which was good for her, because she hadn’t booked a hotel and did not want to go on a four hour train journey whilst the world was slightly tilted), then she woke up the next morning lying next to him in bed, her lack of clothes thoroughly explaining the actions that had happened the night before even before the memories came flooding back. The rest was history.
now
“Are you sure you don’t want to try counselling?” Severus asked the next morning, pulling on his robes as he prepared to floo back to the school.
Petunia examined herself in the mirror as she got re-dressed: the lost look in her eyes was all the resolve she needed to stick to her gut, even if her actions that morning had showed otherwise. “If we had had counselling in the first place, Sev, do you even think we would have ended up together?”
He caught her eye in the mirror, his fingers fiddling with the clasp on his robes. “But we did end up together,” he finally forced himself to say, and Petunia had to glance away at the hurt tone that was buried in his voice.
“We were both chasing a ghost that no longer existed.”
then
It seemed like they went from one kiss to getting married, although Petunia knew that a month had passed before they signed the papers (or, rather, got magically joined together then signed the papers for Petunia’s benefit in the Muggle world). They just could not keep away from each other, both of them saying that they would only go out to the pub one last night before parting ways, yet inevitably meeting there again the next night. They got into a routine: meet at the pub, drink two or three too many, go back to either Petunia’s flat or Severus’ house, wake up the next morning saying they wouldn’t do it again, then ending up back in the cycle. There was something about Severus that kept her going back, even when she determined that that was the day that she would not see him.
It was comforting, having a piece of the past around her. There were many years of Lily’s life that she had missed out on, and Severus had new stories each day about what they got up to in their Hogwarts years. Sure, she could go to a different pub, one she knew he wouldn’t be at, but there was something so profoundly lonely about going to a pub to grieve your dead sister on your own. Severus understood her pain: as Lily’s best friend for many years, he was almost as close as a sibling can be. It was so easy to fall into the familiarity of the past, and if falling into Severus’ arms caused that, then so be it.
One day it changed, and Petunia didn’t even see it coming, even though she should have from a mile away. After a particularly gruelling day of lectures, all Petunia wanted to do was collapse into Severus’ embrace, to cling onto her memories of better times. Once upon a time, she would have called up Lily after a bad day at university, but the last time she was able to do that was the twenty-seventh of October, and then her safety net had been ripped from her life forever. Lily had been one of the only people who understood her struggles with her self-esteem related to academia, she had been the push she needed to finally go to university after Vernon ripped away any last shred of confidence she had. The other person who knew about her struggles was Severus, through their shared past and their mutual connection.
That was how she found herself outside of Severus’ house holding a bottle of whiskey, and it changed the future of their interactions irreparably. Before, there was always a ‘what if’ aspect, there was the chance that one of them would not be there, that one of them wouldn’t show up. Now, they were waiting outside of each others houses and entering them whilst they were still sober. It was dangerous. It was intoxicating.
Every time they met up, they drank, sharing a self destructive habit in order to forget the bad and remember the good. Whenever they drank, they got too friendly. Whenever they got too friendly, Petunia’s heart raced dangerously and she found herself getting lost in obsidian eyes and her hands getting tangled in long hair. Whenever she woke up the next morning next to him, she was filled with regrets, knowing she was just using him to fill the void, yet never stopped going back to him.
They were crashing down a dangerous path, and it was almost too predictable when they got too drunk and suggested getting married to each other. She wasn’t sure who said it first, or who wanted it the most. She wanted family; he wanted family. They were together every day anyway. It made logical sense: that is, if you were well over the legal drinking limit.
Severus was the one who arranged it all, on that night that they decided it was the best plan anyone had ever thought of. He contacted a bonder to perform the wizarding ceremony, and procured the papers to forge a Muggle equivalent for Petunia. She did not recognise the man that came through Severus’ floo, but she did recognise the name, and she knew that he had somehow got the most powerful wizard to come and perform the ceremony. Albus Dumbledore took one look at them, noticing that they were intoxicated immediately.
He tried, back then, to warn them against it. See how they felt when they were sober. He would come back in the morning. Maybe wait a little bit longer, get engaged first. They listened to none of his advice, stubbornly refusing to see the catastrophic event they wanted so badly to happen. Severus offered to show his sincerity by being legilimised: Petunia did the same, not really understanding what it was, but not wanting to be the only one who Albus doubted about the bonding. All she could think when the old man’s twinkling blue eyes met hers were how badly she wanted to be joined to Severus, a family. To be with the man she loved—for she certainly thought she did at that moment, her slim hand gripped tightly in his, their eager energy merging into one.
Whatever he saw swayed him to perform the ceremony, and Petunia could remember the tingle of magic running over her as he bound them together. Dark eyes met pale, two stark opposites, and it felt like home. Like a family. As if this was where she belonged all along.
Moving in officially the next day, she still had that warm feeling running through her veins, and he must have felt the same as he welcomed her with open arms. It may have been a drunken mistake, but they were still enjoying it when sober. It was as if nothing could go wrong.
now
It had been a week since Petunia had asked for a divorce, and Albus Dumbledore was only now available to perform the unbinding ceremony. It had to be the original bonder, that was why they had to wait so long. The more time that passed, the more her strength slipped away. Last time she had Lily to come and rescue her. This time, all she had was her sister’s voice in her head, reminding her to keep strong.
“Are you two sure that this is what you want?” he was asking, looking between them with a disapproving expression. “If I perform this ceremony, I can never reverse it, and you will be hard-pressed to find a capable bonder that is willing to rebind you if you change your minds and decide you want to be married again.”
Severus had spent every night with her this past week. Some of it was her fault: she sent him an owl early in the day, begging him to come home that night because she just needed to see him one last time. The other times he had come on his own free will, saying he just wanted to spend one last night with her before it was all final. Looking at herself in the mirror in Severus’ dining room, she instantly noticed the dark circles under her eyes that had formed a month ago, and could see where wrinkles were threatening to form if she kept frowning so often. She wasn’t happy: she knew that. Yet she was addicted to him.
then
That first month was good, looking back. They went out on proper dates, they discussed their ambitions, they planned for the future. He wanted one kid, she wanted three: they compromised on two. She wanted to be an accountant, and he was willing to move to wherever she needed to be in order for her to get a job at a firm. It was almost too perfect.
Hogwarts school reopened that January, and that’s where everything went wrong. She could pretend they weren’t overtly different people when they were at home together, or when he was making lesson plans at the dining room table as she did her coursework, but this was different. She couldn’t go with him to Hogwarts: they tried to find a way that she could stay in his quarters with him, but no matter how hard they searched they couldn’t find a way past the Muggle-repellant charms. She also could not use the floo, so it would be impossible for her to get to university and back every day.
So they compromised yet again: he would spend weekends here, and stay at the school during the week. It made the most sense: he kept his job, he was around in the week for his students, they could still see each other, and she could still keep up with her education. He was most passionate about that last point: he seemed more concerned about her getting a degree than she was. She hoped it was just because she was finally pushing herself to become her own person rather than mindlessly going through life until she became a housewife like she had planned on doing when they were kids. Thankfully, Severus did not seem like the type to just want a housewife, so she never felt herself slipping into her old ways around him (quiet as a mouse, seen not heard: Vernon’s favourite). When he was home, they split the chores and the cooking equally. The only problem was that he was hardly ever home.
The empty house was slowly draining her. Her grief was overwhelming her and with no one there to distract her, she felt herself slipping into misery. She tried to go out with her friends again, but none of them understood when she spaced out, her mind drifting away to simpler times. There were things she could not tell them: things they would never understand. It was just something to numb the pain; clubbing to avoid the silence of her home.
She also decided to go back to work. Her restaurant team was a close-knit group, which had taken her in with open arms two years ago when she had nowhere else to turn to. They had assumed what she had ran from (not that their assumptions were wrong, exactly), and knew that her sister had helped her get the job there. That’s why they understood when Petunia called in on the first of November asking for an indefinite grievance leave, as she had just lost her baby sister. But they didn’t understand her pain, couldn’t fully comprehend why she burst into tears when she saw a young red-head with green eyes sitting at a table. The void was growing stronger with every passing step.
The gap between Severus and Petunia was getting larger as well. Now he had returned to the magical world, his mannerisms were becoming more alien, sometimes forgetting that she wasn’t like him. Sometimes, she had to get him to clarify what something meant when he was telling a story about his week, and he always faltered slightly as if he couldn’t understand how someone didn’t know what he meant. Eventually, she stopped asking, just nodding along dumbly instead. She felt inadequate, like she wasn’t worthy. She had long ago promised herself that she would never let herself feel like that again, yet here she was, trapped. No way out.
They still had good times. It wasn’t as if they were having screaming matches every time Severus was home. The lives they led were just too different, too alien to one another. Petunia felt like scratching her skin off every time she thought about it for too long.
They had only been married for two months, yet she knew it wouldn’t last. Maybe if they met later. Maybe if he had a different job, where he could be at home more, although she knew enough about the Wizarding war to know that would never be an option. Maybe if the entire foundation of this relationship hadn’t been based on their mutual grief. Maybe if they hadn’t both been using the other to fall back into the past. All the ‘what ifs?’ with no real way to even answer it.
Her final breaking point was when she ran her hands through her hair and a whole clump fell out. Petunia knew it was vain, but she had always been obsessed with her appearance, making lists of her flaws and her attractive features; and she really did not want to add baldness to her list of flaws. The stress of loneliness was too strong for a woman like her to handle. It had to end.
She had tried many times to get the words to come out of her mouth, but something always blocked her from saying them out loud. She would open her mouth, preparing to shatter their world, then dark eyes would meet light with a slight gleam and she would lose her resolve, keeping her pain to herself. One day she would work up the courage.
It was the middle of March, just over three months into their marriage, when she found the strength to say, “I want a divorce.”
now
Her held held high, she allowed a few tears to shed as Albus performed the unbinding ceremony. Gripping the bottom of her skirt with one hand, her other one was firmly tucked into Severus’ hand, their final reminder of their marriage. He was staring into the distance, a stony look on his face as the last of their bond slipped away from them, though he hadn’t ripped his hand away from her yet. “It is done,” Albus finally announced, lowering his wand. “You two are no longer married.”
She let out a shaky breath at that announcement, though it felt like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. “I’ll come back to the school with you in a moment, Albus,” Severus said, his voice raspy. “I just…”
Nodding, he clearly needed no more explanation. “Farewell, Miss Evans.”
The use of her name almost set off the waterworks, but Severus’ hand tightening in hers kept her from breaking. The old man flooed away, leaving them alone in the middle of Severus’ living room. Twisting them around slightly, he made it so they were facing each other, two opposites staring the other down. Pale eyes sparking with tears; dark eyes void of any emotion. “I won’t return here until the end of the year,” he said lowly, the pain in his voice the only indicator that this even meant anything to him. “Give you time to find a new place to live before the summer.”
Her lower lip quivered slightly. “It’s fine, Severus, my friend has a spare room in her flat, she’s allowing me to stay there until we graduate. This house… I can’t spend more time here.”
His cheek twitched, but he just inclined his head in acceptance. “No contact would be best moving forward,” he said, one last knife twisting in her heart. “It would be too much to see each other again. I wish you the best for the future, Petunia.”
Dropping her hand, he turned to leave, only pausing when she whispered, “Good luck, Sev.”
Then she was alone, again, but for once it didn’t hit her as hard. She had options. She was going to survive this, just as she had survived her last failed relationship. She could almost feel Lily’s pride shining down on her. The only hard part was knowing she would never see him again.
Her right person, just at the wrong time.