Disclaimer: Plot and characters of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. This little ficlet, such as it is, is mine. Do not redistribute without permission.
Harry Potter's Personal Hell...
or
The Beginnings of a Beautiful Friendship...
It was a bright, temperate day in a quiet corner of down town London. Birds were singing, a warm breeze wafted through the trees and the only cloud to darken the clear blue sky hung gloomily over a pair of strangers muttering darkly to themselves as they sulked on either end a park bench. The two could not have been more different, yet they could not have had more in common.
"Of all the--!"
"The thanks I get--!"
"Dunderheaded oaf…"
"Ungrateful little prat…"
"No respect for his elders!"
"No respect for his betters!"
"Arrogant, sanctimonious little bastard!"
"Spoiled, ungrateful little monster!"
"Bloody Harry Potter!" they snarked in unison. There was a moment's stunned silence before they turned to face each other with raised brows and curious glances.
"Vernon Dursley," the larger of the two (by far) offered, extending a meaty hand in greeting. The other, a pale, unpleasant-looking man, raised a disdainful eyebrow but reciprocated nonetheless.
"Severus Snape."
The Beginning...
DAT DAT DAAAAAAH!
AN: Muwahahahahaha! Behold the inner workings of my demented little brain (such as it is)! No really, when I thought "What if Dursley and Snape met out of no where and formed a close personal friendship based solely on their hatred of our dear Harry?" I laughed until my sides hurt.
Those who fail to see the humor in this situation are completely sane, rational individuals who will probably go on to lead full, healthy lives far from white, padded walls and wrist restraints. My condolences.