Unforgivable

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to my dad. I know J.K. Rowling has said on Pottermore that Lily and Petunia had their final falling out over James and Vernon's disastrous meeting, but that always felt a bit weak to me, even with a long time difficult relationship between the two sisters. I tried to think of what could cause a rift so big it could never be mended.

I got half a dozen story ideas the other night while trying to sleep; I'm holding off on most of them for right now until I can get Mugglefied finished, but this one seemed utterly appropriate for this time of year, and as it was a 1-shot, I just couldn't help myself. Don't be like Lily and Petunia.

Lily's eyes were red-rimmed from crying. If she hadn't been so preoccupied she might have noticed the caked on powder concealing the bags under her sister's eyes. Petunia had hardly slept in days.

"Why didn't you tell me? Do you hate me so much that you didn't want me to be allowed to say goodbye?" Her voice was raw. This couldn't be happening.

"You need to put your dress on. It will be time soon," Petunia sniffed.

"How long did you all know?" Lily demanded. She tore her hairbrush through her hair. There were enough fly away strands to make it look as though she'd been out for a ride on Potter's broom.

There was a pause. "Symptoms started not long after you left for the fall term. But we really didn't know until November. She wouldn't go to the doctors." Petunia didn't meet her sister's eyes, and went to sit on the bed instead.

"Six months. Six bloody months since she went to the doctor and nobody could find the time to tell me that my mother was dying? What the hell is wrong with you? I was home for Christmas." The damn burst and she was crying again. Hot, angry tears.

Petunia swung her legs up onto the bed, her high heels digging into Lily's comforter. Lily ignored the action. Some comforter. It gave her no comfort. Her mother would never admonish her to change the sheets or make her bed again. Petunia picked up a box of tissues from the night stand and threw them at her sister and they bounced off the vanity mirror. "She was dying. And all she could worry about was you." Petunia's voice dropped into a slightly lower register as she tried to imitate their mother. "Oh no, we can't tell Lily now. She has exams coming up. I wouldn't want her to be too distracted to do her best. We'll tell her at Christmas. Oh no, let's not spoil Christmas. Let's have one last nice Christmas together as a family. We'll tell her after." Petunia gave her sister a look of pure venom. "If you were around more, you would have known. You would have noticed. But instead you're off at that freak school all year, and I'm home, and I had to take care of her, and I had to watch her get weaker and weaker and—" she gulped for air. Her tear ducts were dry. Cried out. But if anything had been left in them, she'd be sobbing. "If you have to be a freak, why can't your powers do any good? Why couldn't you save her?"

Lily threw her brush down. Things started rising off the floor—her sneakers, the dressy shoes she hated but that she was supposed to wear for the funeral, her robes that she'd taken off when she got home last night. Everything but the furniture levitated itself until it hit the ceiling and came back down with a crash. "Ten minutes. Ten minutes is all I had to say anything and everything that I thought I was going to have decades to tell her. How the bloody hell do you expect me to work a miracle in ten minutes? It's cancer, for Merlin's sake. Wizards have a lot of great medicine, but we still don't have a cure for cancer, and even if we did…how the hell could you expect me to do anything in ten minutes? She barely knew I was there. I never really got to say goodbye. Your robbed me."

"Do you know what it was like? Watching her? Taking care of her for months? Putting my whole life on hold? I didn't have anyone to talk to. Dad wasn't handling it well, and Mum wouldn't let me to tell you."

"For Merlin's sake, I don't care if Mum didn't want me to know, I had a right to know. You should have told me."

Petunia got up. "You don't care. You don't know how hard this was on me and you don't even care, for God's sake. What's wrong with you, Lily? I didn't have a choice. Mum wouldn't let me. I'm not talking to you anymore. I have to go help Dad. If I don't help he'll end up with his shirt on back to front. Not that you'd notice or care. Put on your black dress. We have to leave in ten minutes." Petunia left the room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows. Lily was a freak. She would never understand. And if she had to be a freak why couldn't she at least have been a useful freak?

Lily threw herself on the bed, and tried to muffle her sobs in her pillow. Her mother was gone. Gone. She was never speaking to Petunia again.

Author's Note: I lost my dad to cancer 6 years ago and wasn't home most of the 4 years he was sick. No family members have ever made me feel like I didn't do enough, but I sometimes wonder what I could or should have done differently. I thought of him quite a bit while writing this.