"Vernon, darling?" Petunia Dursley drowsily muttered after feeling her husband furiously tossing and turning in bed besides her. "Is something the matter?"
Vernon Dursley let out a gruff grunt in response before sitting up, rubbing his eyes, and curtly answering, "I can't sleep."
Petunia let out a long, drawn out, and exhausted sigh before opening her eyes, turning to her husband, and saying, "Yes, that much is certainly obvious; but I'm asking why, darling, why can't you sleep?"
Vernon considered telling his wife the truth for a moment before shaking his head, giving Mrs. Dursley a reassuring pat on one of her bony shoulders before answering, "It's nothing, nothing. I'm just not very tired, is all." He then pulled off his side of the blanket, left the bed, and added, "I'm just going to walk around a bit, so don't worry your little head off and go back to sleep, alright?"
Petunia, knowing her husband more than well enough to know that what was bothering him was certainly not "nothing", considered confronting Vernon on the issue before letting out a weary and relenting sigh, turning herself around, pulling their blanket up to better have it cover her body, and saying, "If you insist. Just make sure you don't take too long -"
"Of course not," Vernon wearily and gruffly reassured. "I've got work tomorrow, don't I?"
Petunia inadvertently smiled upon hearing his response. "Of course you do." She let out a yawn. "Well then, goodnight."
"...Goodnight," Vernon said quietly as Petunia slowly went back to sleep. He then, as softly as he could, made his way out of their bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him, and let out a sigh as he once again rubbed his eyes wearily.
He slowly made his way down the hall, stopping in front of little Dudley's room. He then opened his son's bedroom door just enough so that he could peer through and take a peek at the boy, who was now fast asleep despite his loud and persistent protests of wanting to stay up just mere hours before. Vernon couldn't help but smile as he watched his son's chest slowly move up and down as he slept. He and Petunia were proud of him. Despite what others might've said about him, about how loud and rude their little Dudley could be, what people couldn't say about him was that Dudley wasn't honest and that he didn't fight for what he wanted; and in all honesty, Vernon and Petunia preferred and liked it that way. Why should someone be content with something that they didn't want and not fight for it? Did people honestly like being such big pushovers? So what it Dudley demanded candy all the time? What normal child wouldn't? So what if Dudley demanded that Petunia's sister's son sleep anywhere besides his own room? What normal child wouldn't wish for a room of their own and for it to stay that way? So what if Dudley whined whenever he couldn't get what he wanted? Everyone did. It was just that they did it within closed doors instead of openly. How sad. How pitiful. Petunia had said so herself that bottling one's self up and never openly saying anything against unfair treatment didn't get her anywhere, and Vernon stoutly agreed. It was because of these traits, and many others, that the Dursleys loved their son and looked at him with pride. With a personality and spirit like that, no one would be able to take advantage of or mistreat their little boy as long as he'd live, and with how healthy he was, he was going to live for a very long time.
Vernon then quietly closed little Dudley's bedroom door closed, closing his eyes and cursing quietly at it when it let out a long and drawn out creaking sound that threatened to potentially wake the boy up, before letting out a sigh of relief when it didn't, going downstairs, and quietly opening up the door to the cupboard under the stairs, where Petunia's freakish sister's little boy peacefully slept.
Vernon crossed his arms as he leaned against the cupboard door's frame and stared long and hard at the orphan's sleeping face, the strange scar that resembled a lightning bolt staring back at him just as hard. Vernon gave the boy an angry sneer. Out of the kindness of Petunia's heart, the Dursleys had accepted the little freak into their humble abode, but in all honesty, he didn't have the faintest idea for why they should have. Why would any normal person with a working brain accept someone as freakish and as dangerous as this one into their homes? Vernon had read the same letter Petunia did. He knew exactly what his family had agreed to upon accepting the little monster into their home, and quite frankly, no matter how much he tried to bury it in the back of his mind, he still couldn't get over how dangerous and stupid the decision was.
According to the letter, the boy's parents had been just been murdered by a freakish madman and his equally as freakish cult (because as far as Vernon was concerned, that was what they were: a bloodthirsty, murderous, and deranged cult), and that after Petunia's sister had sacrificed herself to protect him, it was decided that the little freak would live with them because… that was the rule for some rubbish protection spell or whatnot. Vernon shook his head at the though. What better word to describe the Dursleys' current predicament? Rubbish. Absolutely rubbish. He may not know a single thing about magic, or spells, or potions, or whatnot, but he felt that it was definitely safe to assume that such a spell was simply wishful thinking. In actuality, the freaks didn't really know what to do with the boy, and they had come to the flawed conclusion that leaving him with normal people like them wouldn't cross these madmen's minds. Well, what if it did? What if they tracked the boy down to this very house? What if they were willing to kill him and his family simply because they were in the same house this boy was in? What then?
Well… then they'd all be dead, wouldn't they?
"Look at you," Vernon muttered gravely. "Sleeping as if you haven't got a care in the world." He then began to pace around slowly just outside the cupboard door, shaking his head and taking solemn sideways glances at Harry as he did. "And that's just it, isn't it? You and your population of freaks... you all just don't care, do you?" He stopped pacing around and stared long and hard at the sleeping boy's face. "You don't care what happens to us. You don't care one bit about the perfectly content and normal family that you've all dragged in to you or your lot's problems, did you?"
He quickly and angrily made his way towards Harry as if he were truly arguing with him and the entire wizarding world at that very moment, glaring down at the boy once he did. "You're endangering my family!" he nearly shouted, but managed to only angrily whisper. He pointed angrily at their front door. "They could come by any day now, any minute, just to finish what they started! My wife and child could die any day now, and it will all be because of you!" He pointed angrily at the sleeping Harry, an almost crazed and deranged look in his eye as he did. "I should dispose of you right now and get it over with! At least then, my family would be safe from all this madness!"
It took him a few deep breaths before he finally calmed himself down, stepped away from the door, leaned against the nearest wall, slid down to the floor, covered his face with his hands somberly, and muttered, "But I can't." He shook his head as a few frightened tears trickled down his red and puffed up face. "I can't. It's what Petunia wants. She may not say it, bless her heart, but I know, I've always known, that she envies you. She envies you lot for all of the unnatural things that you can do. All of the unnatural things that I will never be able to do for her myself." He shook his head dejectedly. "This is the only thing I can do that can even be remotely related to you freaks... and it involves putting my beautiful wife and my wonderful little boy in harm's way!" He angrily glanced back at Harry. "Not that that matters to any of you! No, none of you consider how much suffering your lot causes! My Petunia's little sister didn't care about how much suffering she was causing her then and you lot don't care how much suffering you are causing her and her family now! You're taking advantage of her and none of you deserve that type of luxury! Not now, not in a million bloody years!"
He then wagged his finger angrily at the sleeping toddler. "And if you think that you can use your unnatural abilities to make my wife and child suffer just like your mother did, then you should better reconsider! As long as there's still blood rushing through my veins, nothing of magic, potions, or spells will ever be spoken of, let alone performed under this roof! Do you hear me?! I'll even shake the magic out of you if I have to! You will not make my wife and child feel as if they are lesser than what they actually are!" He pointed angrily at the Potters' son. "You and your people are the lesser one here! Not us! Not us normal people! We are in control here, not you! YOU are at OUR mercy, NOT the other way around! Do you hear me?!"
Vernon then took a few moments to recompose himself before standing up, calmly walking up to the cupboard door, holding the edge of it, and staring resolutely at Harry, before calmly declaring, with tranquil fury, bitterness, and determination, "Listen to me well, you miserable little freak of nature. As long as I may live and as long as you are living under my roof and endangering my family's lives, I will make sure that your filthy stain does not become a blot on my family's happiness." Vernon raised a finger up firmly. "Remember that, so that if ever you feel that we treated you poorly in the attempt to further our own happiness, you will remember that you and your lot have wronged us first, and nearly taken away our happiness in order to further your own just as we did." Vernon nodded his head as he slowly closed the cupboard door. "Remember it," he muttered to himself, before letting out a deep and weary sigh, stretching his back a bit, making his way up the stairs, quietly making his way back to his side of the bed, careful not to wake his sleeping wife, who he loved more than he would ever allow himself to openly admit, laying down, covering himself with his side of the blanket, and finally, with a content smile on his face, peacefully going to sleep.
Author's Note: Something I thought I'd whip up after realizing just how scary it must've been for a Muggle family to hide and take care of a child that a supernatural cult were trying to kill in cold blood. Seriously, mad respect for the Dursleys for doing this despite the potential danger. They had a lot more to fear than most other characters in the Harry Potter series. I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot as much as I had fun one-shot writing it!