FIC: Subliminal (Cedric/Petunia)
Title: Subliminal
Pairing: Cedric/Petunia (with a side of Vernon/Petunia)
Rating: PG-13, for language and possibly disturbing images
Word Count: 1641
Summary: Petunia has a most curious vision.
Author’s Notes: Done for rarepair_shorts's Number Game Ficathon. This is waayyy longer than I expected it to be; I went over 1500 which I know is where I'm supposed to cap it - but I basically never write 1000-word fics, so I ain't cutting anything! :P Actually, there's more... See: The Subliminal Series.
By the way, in case you didn't guess just by looking at the pairing, this is completely trippy - though I was insane enough to actually try to make this somewhat logical.
It's just like any other night.
You have a little brandy, you brush your teeth, you don that silk pajama Vernon gave you last Christmas - the one with gingerbread-men pattern, the one you wear regularly because if you don't wear it one night, Vernon will immediately suspect you don't like it. Which, of course, you don't. It's hideous. But it was a gift from your husband, and wearing it is the only honest way to show you actually do care about him, even if most of the time it seems like you don't.
So you wriggle into bed beside him, drawing up your legs into a comfortable position. The pillow is fluffed just so, and the last movement you make is to elbow Vernon in the back because he's already snoring obnoxiously. This happens every night, and it's just what should happen every night - because that's what's normal.
Ah yes, how glorious it is to be perfectly normal.
At first, you lie quite aware of the way the quilt drapes over your body, the way your hair is spread across your pillow, the way Vernon's snores intermittently sound like whistling. Then - slowly, slowly - your eyes go out of focus and you sink into half-consciousness. Slowly, slowly, slowly. But it's okay, it's okay - you're okay. The bed is still beneath you. You haven't left, you can still see the inside of your eyelids...
Then, when sleep finally takes you, it takes the whole world, too.
* * *
Oh no, oh no, oh no! You can't believe it - this can't be happening - you've forgotten to buy Dudley's birthday presents!
Your hands are trembling, you feel nauseous and hot and you feel about to cry because this has never happened before, ever - how could you possibly forget something like this? It doesn't make any sense, there's no reason for it, but it's happening and - oh God, Dudley is absolutely, positively going to murder you! Oh, he will!
Okay Petunia, think, calm down. CALM DOWN, damn it!
You rip the bedsheets off and fly in a frenzy. What the hell are you going to do? You've only just woke up - somehow you were shocked into waking up, you don't know how else you might have managed it - and it's seven o'clock in the morning, luckily, but Dudley will be up by ten.
He can't know you forgot. He can't, he can't, he just can't!
There's nothing to do but run for it - so you run straight to the car, not bothering to change out of your absurd pajamas. Normally, you wouldn't dare to even walk around the house in these pajamas, but this is an extremely desperate moment. You cross yourself, hoping that none of the neighbors are awake enough to get a good look at you, because you look like shit. You feel even worse.
Some higher power must be watching over you, at least for this split second - because it seems like the moment you turn on the engine, you're instantly at the store, as if by m-
No. No, no, no. Absolutely not. You can't stand that word, you refuse to say it.
The store is huge and you don't know where to begin, but there's really no time to think about it - so you rush around in a blind panic, grabbing at anything and everything that catches your attention. Grab, grab, grab - you don't even really look at what you're getting, even though you should - after all, it's Dudley’s birthday, you can't just give him anything. But then again, you simply don't have the time!
For several more minutes, you fly through the store in this manner, and then finally you convince yourself to stop and look at what you have so far.
It doesn't take you long before you discover that you've been completely wasting your time. You eye your cart in horror; it is filled with toys fit for a four-year-old. You pick up a few and examine them in utter disbelief. Plushies? A bubbles machine? Fifteen-piece puzzles? Are you daft?
Oh, bloody hell! This is simply fantastic. FANTASTIC!
Exasperated, you ask the nearest attendant - some lady with shocking red hair - for the 'big boys department'. You can't believe you've just uttered those words, and by the nasty look she's giving you, she can't either.
"Dudley's outgrown those, has he?" she says mildly, pointing at the items in the cart. "Well, I'm sure Harry would love them."
You blink. The sarcasm does not go undetected, but that's not what's bothering you. How does this complete stranger know about Dudley? About Harry? You don't talk to anyone about Harry. It simply does not add up!
But then you notice something - her eyes... they're emerald green, green just like...
Oh God.
That's when it hits you - but how could it possibly be? - it's your sister. It's Lily. Who died fifteen years ago.
"Lily... what are you... how..." you sputter, forgetting completely that you are on a mission to buy fifteen gifts and you are very quickly running out of time.
"Harry's told us you never give him presents."
"He said that? He's such an ungrateful little brat, of course I always give him- "
"Hand-me-downs and dirty, old socks don't quite qualify as gifts," says a tall man with untidy, jet-black hair, who appears just behind Lily. Harry is the spitting image of this man - so that means he must be Lily's husband, whatever his name is.
"Tuney, you're not being fair to my son."
"That's an understatement," Lily's husband mutters darkly.
"Please, Tuney, will you at least give him this?" Lily waves a broom around, smiling hopefully. "For me? Will you do it, please?"
You scoff. A broom? Is she serious? Even Vernon's old socks are a far better present.
"Don't you dare scoff!" Lily's husband bellows. "This is worth a million times everything you ever gave Harry, put together! This is the finest racing broom in the world - I know that means nothing to you, but it means a lot to Harry. So you will give this to him. I will personally haunt you until you do."
"James, there's no need for that."
"Is everything all right?" An old man approaches the scene, wheezing and limping with every step. He is wearing a name-tag that reads, 'Frank Bryce, Manager'.
Lily smiles at him kindly. "Everything's calmed down now, Frank. My sister just doesn't want to get my son a birthday present."
Frank looks sharply at you, and brandishes his index finger. "He's a good lad, he is - he fought with that one evil wizard, din'ee? Couldn't hurt to get him the, er... broom, is it? I don't know what he'd do with it, but if that's what he likes, then I s'pose he deserves it." He shrugs and walks away abruptly.
Just as suddenly, an old woman and a young teenager of about Dudley and Harry's age appear behind James and Lily. "Petunia, is it?" the old woman says to Lily in a horrible, high-pitched voice - then turns to you. "You're not a very nice aunt, are you? Poor boy, getting socks for Christmas! After everything he's done! Personally, I would have filled them with dragon dung and sent them right back!"
"That's enough, Bertha," Lily says quietly, but her eyes are laughing.
You really don't appreciate these random strangers giving their two cents - as if you care about their opinions. You want to leave, you really do need to get back to shopping for presents for Dudley...
But the teenage boy steps in front of you and boxes you into a corner so that you can't escape just yet.
"Please, can you move?" you ask, irritated, though trying to remain polite. "I must get going, I only have an hour left before Dudley wakes up- "
"He won't wake up."
Your heart just about stops dead. "Excuse me? "
"He won't wake up," the boy repeats, looking down at his arms - where suddenly, an exact duplicate of the boy appears - a transparent form that is radiating powerfully white light. You jump back, screaming like a banshee.
At this point, all you want to do is get out of this place; it's scaring the living daylights out of you.
"Please," he's saying, "Will you take him back? Will you take him to Harry?"
"I... I really... I... no... "
"Please? As a reminder... as a reminder of what he has yet to do." The boy's eyes are shining - perhaps with emotion, but you aren't sure. You don't understand what he's going on about, and it sounds extremely creepy, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to humor him - he is a nice-looking boy, after all, and he looks trustworthy...
"Will you take my body to him?"
The color drains from your face. This is what he means? God, how perfectly morbid!
But you find you can't refuse him. How do you deny a dead person their last request? Especially when the departed is the same age your own son - what if it was your own son?
"Don't forget," he says to you, an ever-so-slight note of menace in his voice.
"I won't," you reply, nodding fervently. Tears are streaming down your face, but you have no idea why. It's suddenly important to give Harry the gift, to give him the body. It suddenly matters.
"Remember Cedric Diggory," Lily calls.
"I will."
"Remember," echoes the young man - Cedric.
"Yes."
"Remember."
They are all saying it - Frank, Bertha, James, Lily, and Cedric, all of them - but you can't see their faces, everything is fading from view, you're leaving them behind. Their words reverberate softly in the back of your mind, "Remember, remember, remember..." as you feel your eyelids flutter shut.
And then it is not five voices, but one - one crisp, young voice that seems to resonate for all eternity: "Remember... remember my last."
Read Part Two!
Pairing: Cedric/Petunia (with a side of Vernon/Petunia)
Rating: PG-13, for language and possibly disturbing images
Word Count: 1641
Summary: Petunia has a most curious vision.
Author’s Notes: Done for rarepair_shorts's Number Game Ficathon. This is waayyy longer than I expected it to be; I went over 1500 which I know is where I'm supposed to cap it - but I basically never write 1000-word fics, so I ain't cutting anything! :P Actually, there's more... See: The Subliminal Series.
By the way, in case you didn't guess just by looking at the pairing, this is completely trippy - though I was insane enough to actually try to make this somewhat logical.
It's just like any other night.
You have a little brandy, you brush your teeth, you don that silk pajama Vernon gave you last Christmas - the one with gingerbread-men pattern, the one you wear regularly because if you don't wear it one night, Vernon will immediately suspect you don't like it. Which, of course, you don't. It's hideous. But it was a gift from your husband, and wearing it is the only honest way to show you actually do care about him, even if most of the time it seems like you don't.
So you wriggle into bed beside him, drawing up your legs into a comfortable position. The pillow is fluffed just so, and the last movement you make is to elbow Vernon in the back because he's already snoring obnoxiously. This happens every night, and it's just what should happen every night - because that's what's normal.
Ah yes, how glorious it is to be perfectly normal.
At first, you lie quite aware of the way the quilt drapes over your body, the way your hair is spread across your pillow, the way Vernon's snores intermittently sound like whistling. Then - slowly, slowly - your eyes go out of focus and you sink into half-consciousness. Slowly, slowly, slowly. But it's okay, it's okay - you're okay. The bed is still beneath you. You haven't left, you can still see the inside of your eyelids...
Then, when sleep finally takes you, it takes the whole world, too.
* * *
Oh no, oh no, oh no! You can't believe it - this can't be happening - you've forgotten to buy Dudley's birthday presents!
Your hands are trembling, you feel nauseous and hot and you feel about to cry because this has never happened before, ever - how could you possibly forget something like this? It doesn't make any sense, there's no reason for it, but it's happening and - oh God, Dudley is absolutely, positively going to murder you! Oh, he will!
Okay Petunia, think, calm down. CALM DOWN, damn it!
You rip the bedsheets off and fly in a frenzy. What the hell are you going to do? You've only just woke up - somehow you were shocked into waking up, you don't know how else you might have managed it - and it's seven o'clock in the morning, luckily, but Dudley will be up by ten.
He can't know you forgot. He can't, he can't, he just can't!
There's nothing to do but run for it - so you run straight to the car, not bothering to change out of your absurd pajamas. Normally, you wouldn't dare to even walk around the house in these pajamas, but this is an extremely desperate moment. You cross yourself, hoping that none of the neighbors are awake enough to get a good look at you, because you look like shit. You feel even worse.
Some higher power must be watching over you, at least for this split second - because it seems like the moment you turn on the engine, you're instantly at the store, as if by m-
No. No, no, no. Absolutely not. You can't stand that word, you refuse to say it.
The store is huge and you don't know where to begin, but there's really no time to think about it - so you rush around in a blind panic, grabbing at anything and everything that catches your attention. Grab, grab, grab - you don't even really look at what you're getting, even though you should - after all, it's Dudley’s birthday, you can't just give him anything. But then again, you simply don't have the time!
For several more minutes, you fly through the store in this manner, and then finally you convince yourself to stop and look at what you have so far.
It doesn't take you long before you discover that you've been completely wasting your time. You eye your cart in horror; it is filled with toys fit for a four-year-old. You pick up a few and examine them in utter disbelief. Plushies? A bubbles machine? Fifteen-piece puzzles? Are you daft?
Oh, bloody hell! This is simply fantastic. FANTASTIC!
Exasperated, you ask the nearest attendant - some lady with shocking red hair - for the 'big boys department'. You can't believe you've just uttered those words, and by the nasty look she's giving you, she can't either.
"Dudley's outgrown those, has he?" she says mildly, pointing at the items in the cart. "Well, I'm sure Harry would love them."
You blink. The sarcasm does not go undetected, but that's not what's bothering you. How does this complete stranger know about Dudley? About Harry? You don't talk to anyone about Harry. It simply does not add up!
But then you notice something - her eyes... they're emerald green, green just like...
Oh God.
That's when it hits you - but how could it possibly be? - it's your sister. It's Lily. Who died fifteen years ago.
"Lily... what are you... how..." you sputter, forgetting completely that you are on a mission to buy fifteen gifts and you are very quickly running out of time.
"Harry's told us you never give him presents."
"He said that? He's such an ungrateful little brat, of course I always give him- "
"Hand-me-downs and dirty, old socks don't quite qualify as gifts," says a tall man with untidy, jet-black hair, who appears just behind Lily. Harry is the spitting image of this man - so that means he must be Lily's husband, whatever his name is.
"Tuney, you're not being fair to my son."
"That's an understatement," Lily's husband mutters darkly.
"Please, Tuney, will you at least give him this?" Lily waves a broom around, smiling hopefully. "For me? Will you do it, please?"
You scoff. A broom? Is she serious? Even Vernon's old socks are a far better present.
"Don't you dare scoff!" Lily's husband bellows. "This is worth a million times everything you ever gave Harry, put together! This is the finest racing broom in the world - I know that means nothing to you, but it means a lot to Harry. So you will give this to him. I will personally haunt you until you do."
"James, there's no need for that."
"Is everything all right?" An old man approaches the scene, wheezing and limping with every step. He is wearing a name-tag that reads, 'Frank Bryce, Manager'.
Lily smiles at him kindly. "Everything's calmed down now, Frank. My sister just doesn't want to get my son a birthday present."
Frank looks sharply at you, and brandishes his index finger. "He's a good lad, he is - he fought with that one evil wizard, din'ee? Couldn't hurt to get him the, er... broom, is it? I don't know what he'd do with it, but if that's what he likes, then I s'pose he deserves it." He shrugs and walks away abruptly.
Just as suddenly, an old woman and a young teenager of about Dudley and Harry's age appear behind James and Lily. "Petunia, is it?" the old woman says to Lily in a horrible, high-pitched voice - then turns to you. "You're not a very nice aunt, are you? Poor boy, getting socks for Christmas! After everything he's done! Personally, I would have filled them with dragon dung and sent them right back!"
"That's enough, Bertha," Lily says quietly, but her eyes are laughing.
You really don't appreciate these random strangers giving their two cents - as if you care about their opinions. You want to leave, you really do need to get back to shopping for presents for Dudley...
But the teenage boy steps in front of you and boxes you into a corner so that you can't escape just yet.
"Please, can you move?" you ask, irritated, though trying to remain polite. "I must get going, I only have an hour left before Dudley wakes up- "
"He won't wake up."
Your heart just about stops dead. "Excuse me? "
"He won't wake up," the boy repeats, looking down at his arms - where suddenly, an exact duplicate of the boy appears - a transparent form that is radiating powerfully white light. You jump back, screaming like a banshee.
At this point, all you want to do is get out of this place; it's scaring the living daylights out of you.
"Please," he's saying, "Will you take him back? Will you take him to Harry?"
"I... I really... I... no... "
"Please? As a reminder... as a reminder of what he has yet to do." The boy's eyes are shining - perhaps with emotion, but you aren't sure. You don't understand what he's going on about, and it sounds extremely creepy, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to humor him - he is a nice-looking boy, after all, and he looks trustworthy...
"Will you take my body to him?"
The color drains from your face. This is what he means? God, how perfectly morbid!
But you find you can't refuse him. How do you deny a dead person their last request? Especially when the departed is the same age your own son - what if it was your own son?
"Don't forget," he says to you, an ever-so-slight note of menace in his voice.
"I won't," you reply, nodding fervently. Tears are streaming down your face, but you have no idea why. It's suddenly important to give Harry the gift, to give him the body. It suddenly matters.
"Remember Cedric Diggory," Lily calls.
"I will."
"Remember," echoes the young man - Cedric.
"Yes."
"Remember."
They are all saying it - Frank, Bertha, James, Lily, and Cedric, all of them - but you can't see their faces, everything is fading from view, you're leaving them behind. Their words reverberate softly in the back of your mind, "Remember, remember, remember..." as you feel your eyelids flutter shut.
And then it is not five voices, but one - one crisp, young voice that seems to resonate for all eternity: "Remember... remember my last."
Read Part Two!