Dead Girl
In another world, 20 year old Severus Snape was kicked out of a dingy bar by a blue-eyed man, fled to his master, and ruined his life one sentence at a time. In this world, a rat scurried away from a gap in the door as a broom loomed towards him, scampering down the stairs and into a drainpipe to who he thought would win the war.
In another world, 21 year old Sirius Black handed his godson to a half-giant and was hit by an overpowered cheering charm as the street blew up around him, leaving him laughing and screaming as the world watched him confess his guilt. In this world, 21 year old Sirius Black handed his godson to a half-giant and apparated to the Ministry, forced veritaserum down his own throat, and led the manhunt across Britain for a brown rat animagus.
(In this world, Peter Pettigrew carries both the blame of his former friends’ deaths and the knowledge of a broken prophecy. He isn’t important in this world. Maybe he could be, if the people who used to call him family cared anymore, but they don’t, so he isn’t.)
Petunia Evans-Dursley sat in her living room on the morning of the first of November and clutched her sister’s baby, still so cold, to her chest as Severus sobbed beside her and Moony howled in the backyard. Vernon Evans-Dursley held his son, sitting by the back door watching to make sure Moony’s anguish didn’t tear the precariously cast silencing ward apart, and left message after message on Sirius’s phone.
Midday came and went, and Severus had long since taken the phone from Vernon’s hands, calling his errant husband himself with increasing panic. Moony, after tearing holes in every bush but the lilies in the corner, had wedged himself between the trash bins and the shed and refused to be coaxed out. Petunia had assumed dog-watching duty, armed with a sprig of wolfsbane and the sturdiest gloves Vernon owned, just in case. He wasn’t likely to lash out, not with his pack around him, but a grieving werewolf was an unpredictable werewolf, especially given that said wolf was out during the middle of the day, a week after the full moon. However, he needed the company, and the adrenaline was a hell of a drug, so Petunia forgot that her sister was dead for a short hour while Remus slowly regained control of his shared body.
Evening darkened the neighbourhood and Marlene and her wife knocked on the door. Petunia, knife barely concealed in her shaking hand, peered through the window. Vernon rolled his eyes, opening the door, and was promptly handed a basket of still-warm cookies and a spare baby blanket. They didn’t want to intrude, the women explained, but they thought that cookies and something warm for Harry wouldn’t go unappreciated. Petunia, having watched this interaction warily, tucked the knife up her sleeve and tersely thanked them, closing the door as soon as was socially acceptable and bursting back into tears.
Cookies were had for dinner that night and Vernon took up baby-duty, a role Petunia gave up readily with a soggy kiss to his cheek from her position on the couch. Remus, having suitably scolded and then comforted Moony through a tense meditation, had devoured most of the cookies and was now passed out in front of the fire sprawled over Severus’s lap. The pale man stroked his hair with a paler hand, the other clutched desperately around Vernon’s phone. The family, Dudley and Harry placed in a bed Vernon dragged through the kitchen, slept in the living room that night, all who were awake staring at the doors.
On the morning of the second of November, Sirius staggered into the house. Petunia was the first to see him and she shrieked, which then caused Remus to startle awake and flail for his wand, a curse halfway from his lips when he realised that it was his husband that was collapsing in the hallway. Then, he leapt to his feet and snarled at Sirius, who dodged the completed curse, flung his hands where Remus could see them, and stammered about their wedding day until Remus gathered him into a hug with a sob. Severus chose that moment to throw a cup at Sirius, sending coffee everywhere, including all over himself as he tackled his husband. Petunia cuffed Sirius around the back of the head, scolding him through tears because she didn’t know what else to do, until Remus growled at her from under Sirius’s arm and she backed off.
Through heaving sobs into Severus’s shoulder, Sirius told a story of a manhunt that took him all over Britain, two splinchings, the deaths of twelve innocents, and a successful arrest. Vernon, a typically stoic man, engulfed the three men into a hug that had them all wheezing and gave Sirius one of Marlene’s cookies.
The clock passed ten and Severus fell asleep on the couch for the first time since his world shattered, and he was immediately joined by Sirius and Remus, unwilling to lose physical contact. Vernon called his lawyer while bouncing Dudley on his hip, having to hand Dudley off to Petunia several times as she watched his face turn puce and he hurried upstairs, only to return with a ruddy expression of defeat.
Night fell, and Petunia commented weakly that time flew when you’re having fun, to which Vernon gave her a look and pulled a pot out of the cupboard. She sighed at herself and wiped her face with a tea towel, rousing herself from her grief-filled haze to help him make dinner, Dudley strapped to her back.
Sirius awoke not an hour later to the smell of curry and fell upon it like a starved man, sobbing between bites as Harry wailed and made grabby hands for his Unca Pa’foo. Petunia gave him a second serve as he held the boy to his chest, eating with one hand as he clutched Harry desperately with the other.
Remus woke up around midnight with a violent start, hurling himself back into the yard as Moony clawed his way to the surface, crescent moon above him, and tore up the lawn with a viciousness that made Petunia a little nervous. Severus followed him, though, wiping his eyes and casting ward after precautionary ward before settling down beside the distraught werewolf. Sniffling and passing Harry back to Petunia, Sirius made a jerky movement towards the window, and she nodded before gathering a blanket into her free arm to give Padfoot, who then trotted through the dog door to keep Moony and Severus company.
Vernon coaxed the boys to sleep as he eyed the werewolf through the gaps in the curtains, trusting Severus’s wards and Moony’s sense of pack but locking the window anyway, and traipsed down the stairs again to sit with Petunia. She was curled up on the carpet staring into the fireplace and Vernon could see the reflection of the flames in her eyes as she cried silently. He sighed and sat next to her, sweeping a pillow off the couch to put behind his back, and gently pulled her hair out of her face.
On the morning of the third of November, Petunia distracted herself from the fact that the owl she had sent Lily’s friend Dorcas hadn’t been seen in over forty-eight hours (Dorcas lived in London, that couldn’t have been more than an hour’s flight, surely) and baked a cake, then another, then was joined by Severus who decorated the third. He wasn’t speaking, eyes stubbornly glued to the icing he was mixing, but the swift touches on her hands and bumps of hips into hers made her feel a little more secure.
Remus, eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep, swiped a piece of the first cake and secured himself to Severus’s back, burying his face in his hair. Sirius was still out cold on the couch. Remus held out a hand to help and Petunia passed him a tea-towel, with which he awkwardly turned the fourth cake out of its tin. Severus patted his arms, then her hands, and Vernon stumped down the stairs, a boy in each arm.
By midday, Sirius was awake and the first cake and half of the second was gone. Petunia was now kneading a ball of bread dough with rather more vitriol than truly necessary, and Vernon was back on the phone again, this time joined by Remus in the yard, who had a pad of paper and many opinions that she could hear through the cracked window. Severus was curled up on the couch staring at the front door like it was about to grow legs and charge at him, Harry in his arms. Dudley played with a stuffed crocodile on the carpet with all the childlike innocence that came with being unable to understand what war was.
Vernon managed to wrangle a post owl into the house to send letters - how he did so was lost on Petunia - and let the boys play with his fingers while he arranged a reading of the wills. The ruddy colour of his face let Petunia know that something was up, but he did not stop even for a moment. She paused in her feeding of Harry to smile at him, eyes crinkling when he returned a harried but no less genuine grin.
It was the sixth of November, and Harry still barely spoke, clinging rather desperately to Sirius’s fur and Remus’s fingers and wailing when he wasn’t sleeping. Vernon threw a letter into the fire and stormed out into the yard to stomp on Moony’s dirt piles, and Severus quietly shattered some pottery before repairing it and shattering it again. Petunia checked Harry’s temperature compulsively and cursed Albus Dumbledore under her breath. Sirius submitted a transparency demand to the Ministry and spent most of the day as a dog. Severus retreated into the guest room and did not come out even to eat, so Vernon placed a plate outside of the door and didn’t bother him. Remus had not left the couch for several hours, whining when Petunia checked Harry’s temperature again.
It was the seventh, and Vernon requested more time off from his work to care for his distraught family. Severus emerged from the guest room to go to the bathroom, then vanished again. Harry woke himself up from a nightmare with a scream. Remus woke up too, fetching his brother’s son and curling up on the couch with him. Sirius resigned.
The eighth of November arrived, and Petunia sent a letter to Albus Dumbledore. It returned unopened.
The ninth, Petunia sent another letter to Albus Dumbledore. It returned unopened as well.
Come morning of the tenth of November, the entire family watched as Petunia tied a smoking red envelope to the borrowed post-owl’s leg. This one did not return.
It was the eighteenth of November, and the wills were read in the depths of Gringotts Bank. The goblins were rather sympathetic, all things considered, and even gave Petunia some tissues when she cried at hearing her dead sister’s voice. Sirius took back his resignation on the condition that the Ministry got its shit together for everyone, not just a family with strong voices and stronger connections.
The twenty-sixth arrived, and Remus applied for a job at the local primary school even though he, alongside everyone in the Evans household, was rich to a frankly ridiculous degree on Potter money.
Mid-December, Harry started babbling again, and Vernon went back to work three days a week. Petunia started volunteering at the pet shelter down the street.
As winter bled into spring, Severus spent more and more time in the kitchen with Petunia rather than his potions lab, barely speaking but calm seeping slowly into his shoulders.
Dudley started running. Harry copied him.
The grief was waning.