Petunia noticed the pattern before she named it.
It happened on a Sunday afternoon, the sky overcast and heavy with the promise of rain. Mrs. Evans stood at the kitchen table, staring down at a bundle of wilted flowers — lilies and daisies tied together with twine gone soft with age.
"They never last," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Petunia recognized the bouquet immediately. It appeared once a year, Mr Evans always made sure she had them always on this date. The anniversary of Mrs. Evans' mother's death.
Lily did not.
She only saw her mother's sadness.
"I can fix it," Lily said suddenly.
Petunia looked up from where she sat coloring at the edge of the table. Lily's tone wasn't boastful. It was certain — the kind of confidence children had when they believed wanting something badly enough made it possible.
"Fix it how, love?" Mrs. Evans asked gently.
Before Lily could answer, the air shifted.
Petunia felt it, a pressure, a hum beneath her skin.
The petals trembled, color bleeding back into them. Whites brightened, yellows deepened, stems straightened as though time itself had reconsidered.
Mrs. Evans gasped.
"Oh, Lily," she breathed, hands shaking as she gathered the bouquet closer. "You're… you're so special."
Mr. Evans laughed, awe lighting his face. "Did you see that? Just like that."
Lily beamed, cheeks flushed, glancing toward Petunia as if waiting for approval.
Petunia smiled back — small, genuine — and returned to coloring.
Not because it didn't hurt.
But because she understood.
This was not a competition she could win.
---
Later, in the garden, Lily sat cross-legged in the grass, the flowers placed carefully beside her like a trophy she didn't quite know what to do with. Severus hovered nearby, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes fixed on the bouquet.
"They were all brown before," Lily said, poking at a daisy thoughtfully. "Mum looked really sad."
Severus nodded. "Flowers die," he said seriously. "That's what they do."
"But they don't have to," Lily insisted. "Not if you help them."
Severus frowned. "How did you do it?"
"I don't know," Lily admitted. "I just thought really hard that Mum shouldn't be sad anymore."
"That's not how magic works," Severus said.
Lily tilted her head. "But it did work."
Severus stared at the flowers for a long moment. "You should be careful," he said finally. "People don't like it when things are… different."
Lily's smile faltered. "What do you mean?"
"I just mean—" He stopped, clearly struggling for words. "You're not bad."
Petunia listened from the porch steps.
This was important. Not the magic — the reassurance.
Mr. Evans passed by with a gardening fork, paused, and frowned. "What are you two whispering about?"
"Nothing," Lily said quickly.
He glanced at Severus, expression tightening. "You shouldn't fill her head with strange ideas," he said. "Best not to upset Lily."
Severus stiffened, mouth snapping shut.
Petunia stood.
"She was talking to him first." she said calmly. Not loud. Not sharp. "He was only replying."
Mr. Evans blinked, surprised. "Petunia—"
"He didn't do anything wrong," she continued evenly.
There was a beat of silence.
"Well," Mr. Evans said at last, waving it off. "Just… be sensible."
He walked away.
Severus didn't look at Petunia, but his shoulders loosened. Lily scooted closer to him, bumping his knee with hers.
"Thank you," Lily whispered.
Severus nodded once. "You're not strange," he said quietly. "You're just… you."
Petunia sat back down.
The system chimed softly.
[MISSION COMPLETE: RECOGNIZE PATTERN WITHOUT RESENTMENT
Reward Acquired:
Emotional Shielding Passive (Steven Universe)
Effect: Dampens emotional impact of repeated dismissal or imbalance without numbing empathy.]
---
That night, Petunia lay in bed listening to Lily chatter happily through the wall, their parents laughing along.
She stared at the ceiling and thought, 'This is the boundary.'
She would not compete.
She would not resent Lily for being what she was.
She would not burn herself trying to earn attention that flowed elsewhere by design.
She would love without fighting gravity.
Petunia turned onto her side, calm and clear-eyed.
Not the favorite.
But not invisible either.
Just… other.
And that would have to be enough.