Disclaimer - Harry Potter and anything to do with it belongs to JKR, and not poor ol' Half-drowned Dracula.
Author's Note - There aren't enough Dursley-centric stories around. Maybe it's because the huge amount of ABUSE!Dursleys fics going around have scared people off writing this kind of fic. Yes, they were bloody terrible to Harry, but they didn't beat him and they didn't actively starve him to the point of death.
My point is that Petunia and Vernon must have acted in love at some point, after all, they did get married and they had a son. This isn't full-on, grim, mentally disturbing stuff. Just a little insight into what might have happened when Petunia told Vernon about her freaky little sister.
Nothing to Worry About
By Half-drowned Dracula
It was the end of January, and Petunia was just getting into the rhythm of things in their new house in Surrey. The second they had found out about the baby, Vernon had decided it was time to move out of their flat and into a real house. They had decided on Surrey. Surrey was nice. Close to London, not far from the coast, nearly in the countryside, lovely accent, yes, Surrey had exactly what they needed.
There was a tap on the window and she jumped, clutched at her heart and swivelled her neck to see what it could possibly be, fearing children with rocks, hoping it was just the wind.
But it wasn't a child with a rock. It wasn't the wind either. It was an owl. She hated owls. They were so… dirty.
She gave a scream so shrill it was silent, slowly edged her way over and, giving the owl a look of pure undiluted hatred, she opened the window. It swooped in and sat on the table, dropping the letter from it's beak, and, on noticing Petunia's look, swooped right out again.
Tentatively, Petunia reached out and took the envelope in a shaking hand. Oh, how she hated that wizard paper, all thick and heavy and horrible. She turned it over and read her sister's handwriting.
Mrs Petunia Dursley
The Front Room
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Her heart stopped for a moment, her pale eyes bulging. What could she have possibly done to have incurred a letter from her sister? Frightened, she ripped the envelope open and scanned the letter, her eyes catching on certain words - James and I… Having a baby … So excited… Shame Mum and Dad aren't around to hear… Perhaps you and Vernon… - and finally - Love, Lily.
Whimpering, she sat down, and a horrible thought hit her.
'Vernon!' She shouted and then added, quieter (didn't need Mrs Next Door hearing her) 'It's important.'
Vernon came rushing from upstairs, red in the face. 'What is it? Is it the baby -' He stared at his white-faced wife with the letter in her hand, and frowned. 'What's that? Funny-looking paper.' He chuckled, but she didn't brighten.
'My sister's going to have a baby.'
He frowned again 'Petunia, dear, I know you and your sister don't get along, but -'
She was starting to cry, water welling in her eyes. 'No, you don't understand. My sister - She's - she's - weird.'
He kneeled in front of her, a sad smile on his face. 'Well, then we'll leave her alone. Easy as.' He smiled and stood up, and began walking away when he heard her speak again.
'But - but - If she's weird, our b-baby might be weird.'
Vernon spun with speed that a casual observer wouldn't think he had in him. 'You mean she's not well - Up here?' He tapped the side of his head and she shook her head, fat tears plopping onto the carpet.
She was becoming overcome with sobs, they wracked her whole body and she shook and gasped, trying to get words out. 'She's a - a - a - W-I-I-I-tch.' She managed, through her hands.
Giving a bemused laugh, Vernon said 'Funny thing, I just thought you said she was a witch.' His laugh was cut short as Petunia took a deep breath, her face red and wet with tears, and with horror, he saw her nod. Perhaps his wife wasn't right up there.
'But Petunia - Magic isn't real.'
She cried harder than ever. He was going the wrong way about this. It's probably just hormones, he told himself. Suddenly, she started wiping her face with the backs of her hands.
'I'm s-s-sorry, V-Vernon. I-I knew-w-w you wouldn't be-belie-e-ve me-e.'
'No-no-no. I was just playing with you.' He sat down beside her (the sofa groaned) and slid a thick arm around her skinny back. 'I'm sorry darling, I've got you all upset.' He shifted his arm, she was awfully warm, and oddly sticky. 'But is there any way you can show me.'
She nodded again and slowly, trying her best to be calm, she said 'Come with me upstairs.'
He followed her into their bedroom, checking the whole time that she wasn't going to faint, and she kneeled beside their bed, and pulled out a long, white box.
He'd never opened that box, it contained her wedding dress and flowers, and as far as he knew, nothing else. Except what she had just taken out of it. A blue shoebox with a lid, which Petunia removed, her hands only twitching the slightest bit.
She took out the first thing from the box, hiding the rest of its contents, and showed it to him. It was a photograph, one of the school kind, showing a grinning Petunia (Minus one of her front teeth) and a younger little girl (Missing all four of her front teeth) in primary school uniform.
'That's me and Lily. I'm nine, she's seven.'
'She doesn't look weird to me.'
'She wasn't. Not yet.' She took out another photograph, this time of Petunia and Lily at a playground, perhaps a little older. 'She's eight there. That was the day she did her first freaky thing.'
'I don't understand.'
'She was on the swings, and Mum told her not to jump, but she did and then she -' She screwed up her face in thought '- She flew. She flew off the swing and she stayed in the air and then she landed like she'd done a little jump. It was spooky.
'And then, she got this.'
She produced two more photographs, this time inside their home. Lily was grinning broadly, holding an envelope of thick paper, addressed to, from what he could make out -
Miss L. Evans
The Bedroom with the Pictures of The Beatles
17 Denton Crescent
Her thumb was over the rest of it. Petunia stood in the background, looking dejected. The second was almost the same - Lily's expression was identical, but there was a scrawny, scruffy-looking boy with a girly haircut in it, pulling the same face, with a torn envelope reading -
Mr S. Snape
The Grey Bedroom
112 Spinner's End
'Who's S. Snape? He's got a massive nose. How old is he, ten? Christ, that thing'll be gigantic by now.' He said, innocently enough, he thought.
Petunia growled. 'Severus Snape, and he's eleven there. He's horrible. Nasty, nosy little kid, friends with her. Came running up one day - 'Ohh, you're a witch, come play with me because I'm a freak with no friends!' He dropped a whole tree branch on my head once, just by looking at it. He's disgusting.' She scowled at the photograph.
'That letter was from the Wizard school. Said 'Buy a cat or a rat or a toad and come learn magic.'So she did. Her and that awful Snape boy ran off to the wizard school, and then every summer they came back, and Mum and Dad were always so interested.
'And this. This is the worst of all.'
She took out another thing from the box, another envelope of the thick paper - he supposed it would be called parchment - addressed to Petunia's mother. She slipped the letter inside out of the open envelope and read in a saccharine voice -
'Dear Mum. I'm having a simply marvellous time. I think I'm top of the class in charms now, and I can do a special colour-changing charm now. Sev is the best at Defence, and me and him are partners in potions. Professor Slughorn says we're the best he's ever taught. Everything's really fun and exciting. Tell Tuney and Dad that I love them, and tell Tuney that I'm sorry she couldn't come to Hogwarts too. Love, Lily.
'P.S. Here is a photo of me and Sev outside. He knows all kinds of spells that we haven't even learnt. I hope he'll teach me.
'P.P.S. Don't be afraid that the picture moves, that's just because it's a wizard photo.' Petunia gave a dreadful high-pitched laugh and thrust a photograph in his face.
There was Lily, and scrawny little Snape, in wizard dresses. And then something happened. Lily moved. Vernon blanched.
She stuck her little wooden stick-thing - a wand? - into the air, aiming at Snape's head and talking. His hair promptly turned the same red as Lily's and she laughed. Vernon's lip twitched.
Snape looked worried, saw his hair, turned it back to it's usual greasy black with his wand, which was longer than Lily's, pointed it at her and talked, her wand flew into his outstretched hand. She scowled amiably at him and gave him a little shove on the arm which made him stumble. Vernon tore his eyes off of the photograph and turned it over. It had to be a trick. But it wasn't, and when he got back to the picture side of the photograph again, Lily and Snape were not repeating themselves, but appeared to be having a staring contest. Lily lost.
'That's not right.'
Petunia gave a sad little nod.
'That is really not right. That is so wrong. Do all of their photographs do this?' He was getting louder with every word, clearly terrified. He watched his wife nod again and she showed him her last photograph.
'Her and Potter. Got married last year.'
There was Lily, older now, much older than the previous photos, taller, prettier, bustier. Ugh, but she was a witch. A witch in a wedding dress, linking arms with a tallish, lean young man in square glasses, who kept smiling like he thought he was god's gift to earth. Lily beamed too, waving at Vernon as though she could see him. He gulped.
'Is this why I wasn't allowed to their wedding? Because of them being freaks?' he hissed at Petunia.
'I'm sorry Vernon. I'm just -'
He cut her off, looking sternly into her eyes. 'No, you're right. They are weird and it is sick. Absolutely sick. Disgusting, even.' He put his arms around her, holding tightly, cradling her head on his shoulder.
'But you've got nothing to worry about. I'm a Dursley. You're a Dursley, and our baby is going to be a Dursley.
'And one thing I know about the Dursleys is that they aren't freaks. Never have been, never will be.'
Petunia cried fresh tears, and the two of them held on together as though the world was going to end.
'Nothing to worry about.'
Author's Note - I live in Surrey, (Yes, I'm biased about the accent) and I'm starting to think that if Little Whinging was real, it would be obscenely close to my area. There are a lot of people around who act like the Dursleys, and even a school an awful lot like Smeltings (Only without the sticks). Those types of people are perfectly alright as people go, just a little too far up their own selves, if you get my drift.
Anyways, review please? Nothing makes me happier, and I promise to reply.
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