By: angel74
Summary: One shot, AU Petunia Dursley's life is almost unrecognizable to her now. With her husband facing two separate trials for drunk driving and criminal abuse of their nephew, how will she survive when the abuse he has now turned onto her becomes deadly? (Warnings: domestic violence, child abuse).
Note: This little fic is a companion piece to my other story, Shattered Illusions, which is a novel length HP/RW romance that takes place the summer after GoF. (Yes, it is slash!) I have tried to frame the story so that you don't have to read SI if you don't want to, but it would certainly help fill in any glaring holes. SI mainly deals with the Weasleys and the Order discovering Harry's secret about his abusive home life after a terrifying car accident, but there are also many twists and turns along the way. SI is currently a work in progress.
To all of you, who would object to this story being about domestic violence, please remember that this story is AU. Many of you may argue that Vernon would never abuse his own wife, but I feel it is plausible considering how cruel he is to Harry in canon. Who's to say that that cruelty couldn't be displaced onto another person when he is overly stressed about his life falling apart? Well, enjoy!
The shift had been especially grueling, customers complaining about anything and everything today, and I couldn't seem to do anything right. It probably didn't help matters that I was still training to be a waitress and that I didn't really want to be working in a diner on the other side of Surrey in the first place. But I didn't have choice, not anymore.
As I walked home from the bus stop, I couldn't help but think about the state my life was in right now. In fact, life as I know it was completely unrecognizable to me anymore. I no longer felt like myself and it disturbed me greatly.
Vernon had lost his drill business earlier this year, for reasons I am still unable to fathom just now. He had always been such a wonderful business man, that I couldn't comprehend how a company that had been doing so well only a year before could find itself bankrupt within a few short months. Maybe there was more going on that I didn't know about it. I don't know… He won't talk about it.
When my husband blamed the failure on the boy- our good for nothing nephew left on our doorstop when he was only a year old- I couldn't help but agree that his "unnaturalness" must have been somehow involved in causing the company to go bankrupt. There couldn't be any other explanation, could there?
The loss of income was devastating, which is why I didn't object to the harsh punishments that Vernon subjected the boy to. The little freak became the main outlet for his frustrations. But Vernon's drinking soon got out of hand and he occasionally turned his anger towards the one person that tried to prevent another bottle of liquor being consumed….me.
The first time it happened, it was a surprise to everyone. After dinner one evening, I had excused Vernon and myself to the living room to speak privately about how we were going to pay the bills without any money, when Vernon hauled off and slapped me across the face. I should have known not to confront him with such a heavy matter after he had had few drinks, but these sorts of things just couldn't wait. We had argued countless times before, but never had it come to physical abuse. Sure Vernon could be rough with me sometimes, but he had never actually hurt me before. I think Vernon was just as surprised and scared as I was when it happened. He profusely apologized later, saying that it would never happen again.
And I believed him. I desperately wanted to believe him. What other choice did I have? It wasn't like I had anywhere else to go. Besides, it was the boy's "freakishness" that brought out Vernon's aggressive behavior; he was the root of all of our problems, not my husband. Our lives were perfect before that little brat came around. So I forgave Vernon and life went on as if nothing had happened. I couldn't see that something may be wrong with our marriage- I refused to see it.
However, that one incident opened the door for many others. The months that followed have been the most difficult in my life. Each time Vernon hurt me I deluded myself into believing that this would be the last time… that he was just stressed about our financial situation… that the boy made him angry somehow and that he didn't realize he was taking it out on me. But I don't think I can delude myself anymore. Things have suddenly gone from bad to worse since the boy has been gone. Surprisingly, my precious Dudley has never said a word about anything he has witnessed, and I fear that perhaps my son will become exactly like his father someday. It breaks my heart to think that way.
Everything had been fine before the boy came home from his freak school this summer looking like someone had died. He just had to be responsible for all of their misfortune. How could there be any other explanation? I just wasn't sure how he had done it.
I turned the corner of Magnolia Crescent and made my way down Privet Drive hoping to make it home without seeing any of the neighbors. They were all so nosey and the last thing I wanted was to get caught in some mundane conversation about gardening when all I wanted to do was make it home and put up my aching feet.
Unfortunately, Alice Prentice was outside trimming her hedges as I walked by. It would be too obvious that I didn't want to speak to her if I suddenly crossed the street. So I prayed that I could walk by and give her a nod and that it would be enough. Luck was not on my side that day. Thank goodness I had the foresight to change out of my waitress uniform and into something else before I left the diner. I didn't want anyone to know that I had to work now, which is why I took a position across town where I felt that no one would recognize me. I clutched the bag I was carrying protectively to my chest and picked up my pace a bit. I nearly made it past her too.
"Petunia?" she called. "How are you darling?"
I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to face her. "Fine, and you?" I asked Alice politely, smiling broadly. Thank goodness the bruises on my face and neck had faded enough that makeup could cover them completely. I really didn't want to answer any possible embarrassing questions.
"Good, good. Out for a walk are you?"
I tried not to grimace as I muttered, "Yes, it's so beautiful outside today." Alice knew that wasn't true, it was bloody hot out here and no one in their right mind would go for a walk in such heat. Thankfully she didn't press the issue. I couldn't bear to tell her that we only had one car now since the other one was totaled in the accident. We couldn't afford another and Vernon needed the car right now, which left me walking more than a mile to the bus stop.
"How is that boy of yours?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Dudley is doing wonderful, thanks for asking," I said, slowing inching away.
"No the other one… that nephew that lives with you. He used to pass by here everyday on his way to work. Haven't seen him lately. Not in trouble again, is he?" Alice asked.
I felt myself bristle and my smile falter. Sometimes I wished I could take back that awful story we made up about the boy going to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. It had only increased the neighbors' curiosity about the little freak instead of calming it. "Oh, he's fine… but- uh… he doesn't live with us anymore," I managed to get out, trying to arrange my face in something more pleasant looking.
She must have sensed that something was off in that moment. "Petunia, is everything okay?"
Damn her perceptive nature. "Oh, just fine," I replied in a falsely sweet voice.
"Listen, if you need-"
I didn't like where this conversation was going and quickly looked down at my watch. "Oh, look at the time. I must be going. It was nice talking with you," I said, giving a wave and starting on my way again.
"Oh, okay…"
I didn't dare turn back to see if she was still watching me. I just walked as casually as possible the rest of the way home. I knew the neighbors had probably begun to suspect that something was wrong at Number Four Privet Drive, but I didn't expect the confrontation I just had to endure. Could they possibly know about Vernon's drinking? About the awful fights we have? Could they hear the yells or the pleas for him to stop? I shuddered at the thought of anyone knowing my business and climbed the steps to my home hastily.
I could hear the telephone ringing inside, so I jiggled the keys into the lock and opened the door quickly. Within a few quick strides I had crossed the hallway and grabbed the phone from the wall in the kitchen.
"Hello?"
"Can I please speak with a Mr. or Mrs. Dursley," said a stern voice on the other side of the line.
I instantly regretted ever picking up the phone. "Speaking…"
"Mrs. Dursley, I am a representative from your mortgage company and we were wondering when we could expect you to be making another payment…."
I listened politely as the man outlined our options and the consequences of foreclosure if we were unable to make up the late payments within 30 days. I didn't know what to say, so I lied and said that the check was already in the mail. I knew he didn't believe me, but at least it got me off the phone.
Slumping against the wall now, I felt the weight of our financial situation lie heavy on my shoulders. I had no idea how we were ever going to get out of this mess. We had originally been able to skip some of our credit card payments and a few other bills by lying and saying that we were going to out of town for an extended period of time. It had worked because at the time we had been in good standing with all of our creditors. But the time we bought ourselves had finally run out and collection agencies were hounding us relentlessly now. Personal bankruptcy was inevitable now.
The phone rang again and I felt myself stiffen. I couldn't bring myself to answer, knowing it was just another bill company expecting payment. I allowed the answering machine message to take the call and broke into tears when I heard my suspicions were confirmed. It seemed that was all who ever called us anymore.
Sniffling softly, I sat at the kitchen table and pulled my tips out of my pocket and counted it out on the table. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough. But I didn't have any idea how to go about getting more money. I had never worked before, never needed to, so I didn't have a lot of skills that were marketable. The diner was the only place that would hire me and they would only schedule me a handful of shifts per week during the off hours while I was still training.
After the loss of the drill business, Vernon had eventually gotten a job working in a local factory as a floor manager. Unfortunately, it didn't pay nearly as much as he made before and the family had had to make a lot of sacrifices as a result. But at least the income had been decent. Nothing compared to what he made before, but we were able to get by. The boy had also been working at the local veterinarian, but even the money he had brought home wasn't enough to raise our lifestyle to where it had once been.
After the car accident, those freaks from that school of his took the boy away when they learned about what was going on in our home. Vernon certainly couldn't work with the condition he was in from the accident, and Dudley couldn't seem to hold down a job for more than a few days at a time. With no other option in sight, I decided that it was time that I made a contribution to the household. I really didn't even have a choice.
I have only managed to make enough money to put gas in the car and food on the table. As a result the debt has begun to pile up. Dudley won't even be able to return to Smeltings in the fall this year. The cable television has been shut off and all of our insurance was revoked. And we are still paying on the car that was totaled because insurance won't cover it. I don't even know how we were going to cover the lawyer fees, or the impending law suit. (Vernon had killed another man, Donald Keefer, in the car accident and his family was seeking retribution). There was no end to it all in sight. I live in fear of anything else going wrong. It was only a matter of time before we lost the phone, utilities, and possibly even the house as well. Vernon refuses to ask his sister, Marge, for any money and I have no one to turn to for assistance.
The stress of trying to provide for my family and maintaining the household was beginning to take its toll. I wasn't appreciated in any sense of the word and it felt as if my entire world was crashing down upon me. Leaning forward, I buried my head in my arms and began crying softly, not knowing what else to do. It didn't feel like anything would ever be the same again.
I sat there for a long while feeling sorry for myself, when I was suddenly startled by the sound of a car door opening and closing.
Vernon was home.
Quickly wiping my tears away, I shoved the money back into my pocket and quickly set about making dinner for him. He would be angry after his long day if there wasn't anything prepared for him to eat.
Vernon had driven to the Magistrate's Courthouse again today for the trial proceedings. I would have liked to have gone with him, but I couldn't afford to miss a shift at work. He was currently attending the first of two trials that had come about after the car accident. One was for accidental manslaughter because of drunk driving; the other was for child abuse and negligence. Apparently, that little freak of a nephew had spilled all of our dirty little secrets during his hospital stay.
We had originally hoped that we would be able to manipulate the system and get out of this mess completely. We had once before. Vernon used to have friends in high places, but when we tried to tap into those resources again we were firmly denied any help. We didn't realize it, but Vernon had lost all of those ties when his company became bankrupt.
When that didn't work, I had gone to the courthouse myself once to try to convince the boy not to give his testimony against his own uncle- I had even begged for that matter- but it did little good. The boy had done as he wanted anyway with little regard as to how it might affect the family that had so graciously taken him in. Vernon had not been pleased by the outcome and I had paid dearly for my failure.
I'm sure that the boy probably did it for the attention. Even as a baby he had always tried to vie for my attention, but I wouldn't allow it. My Dudley was good and pure and deserved everything life had to offer. The boy was… well, abnormal… and I didn't want his freakishness hurting Dudley like my sister Lily had hurt our parents… I wouldn't allow it. It was her fault that my parents are no longer alive today, struck down by some evil that Lily was fighting against. And I wasn't ever going to allow her spawn to do the same to my son.
I could hear Vernon coming up the walk now and opening the front door. I took a quick glance behind me to see where he was and then turned my attention back to the stove. The water was simply not boiling fast enough. Not caring that the water hadn't reached the right temperature, I threw in the spaghetti and pushed the ground meat I was browning around in the skillet.
Vernon stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and I could feel him watching me carefully for a long while. When I could no longer stand his scrutiny, I turned to greet him and said, "How was your day?"
He scoffed at my comment, and I knew it had been the wrong thing to say. "How do you think it was? I had to sit there and listen to all of those people talk about what a horrible person I am. I'll have you know I was once an upstanding citizen!" he yelled.
I winced at the tone of his voice, knowing that it was dangerous to upset him any further when he was like this. "Yes, Vernon, I know. And you still are," I commented, hoping to placate him.
"Dinner isn't ready yet?" he asked, his voice low and menacing, as he approached me.
"No," I squeaked. "I just got home, but it should be ready soon." I turned back to the stove and was glad to see that the water had finally begun to boil, cooking the pasta.
"You know, I don't ask for much. The least you could do is have dinner ready by the time I come home!" Vernon yelled, grabbing forcefully me by the arm. I noticed almost immediately that his speech was slight slurred and his eyes unfocused.
Now that he was standing close to me, I could smell the whiskey on his breath and it was all I could do not to turn away in revulsion. He had gone to the bar again on the way home; wasting our precious money on the only thing he ever seemed interested in anymore. His drinking was what got us in this mess in the first place; I could see that now. And no matter how many times I protested, he went to his damn bar anyway. It was a wonder he hadn't caused another accident driving home drunk the way he did. As if sensing what I was thinking he pressed his thumb a little harder into a recent bruise on my arm. I winced at the pain and tried to pull away.
"I know dear, but I wasn't sure when you would be done today… and, and I just got home. Dinner will be ready soon," I quickly said.
I managed to twist out of his grasp and grabbed the plastic spoon I had been using to break up the browning meat. Seeing that it was done, I drained the fat into an old jar in the sink and returned it to the stove. I then hurriedly poured a jar of ready made marinara sauce into the pan and began stirring it around, mixing it together with the meat.
"There, almost ready," I said quickly, hoping that Vernon wasn't still angry.
Vernon blurrily peered over my shoulder at the pot of boiling spaghetti. Taking a spoon he poked around inside and frowned at what he saw. "You call this done? The pasta hasn't even cooked yet!"
"If you'd just give me a few minutes," I pleaded.
"Oh you would like that, wouldn't you? Why should I suffer because you were too lazy to start dinner on time!" he screamed into my face, spittle flying from his lips.
His rage was all encompassing. Before I knew what was happening Vernon had reached out and flipped the pot of boiling water over, ruining and the meat sauce and splashing my torso and legs. I screamed in pain and shakily grabbed a kitchen towel to fruitlessly sop up the water before it could continue to burn me any further. But the damage had already been done, and my skin felt like it was on fire.
Grabbing the towel from me, he said, "Don't! You deserved it! Besides it won't do any good anyway."
"Vernon-" I tried, tears streaming down my face in fear and in agony. I couldn't understand why he was treating me this way. How could you hurt someone you were supposed to love?
"Don't!" he yelled, throwing the towel aside.
Unfortunately, he had tossed the cloth onto the gas burner that was still lit. Though part of it was slightly damp, it instantly caught fire.
"No!" I screamed, reaching out to shut the burner off. Using the plastic cooking spoon, I scooped up the flaming towel and carried it gently to the sink. I quickly turned on the faucet, dousing it with water and putting out the fire. By now the kitchen had started to fill with smoke and the fire alarm was screaming in protest.
Vernon grabbed another towel and waved it around toward the alarm until the air was clear enough for it to go off.
After I turned off the water, I stood near the sink, staring at the ruined remains of my beautiful kitchen towel and coughing because of the smoke I had inhaled. The charred cloth was just another reminder of how everything in my life had become ruined.
"My towel…" I whispered tearfully, unsure of why I was mourning the loss of something so stupid and mundane as a kitchen towel. My legs felt like they were on fire from the burns, but all I could think about was that stupid towel and that I couldn't even afford to replace it if I wanted to.
"I'm sure you are going to blame me for that too!" Vernon yelled.
Turning to him again, I shook my head in emphatically. "No! It was just an accident!"
He grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking me like mad. "Yeah right. You blame me for everything that has happened!"
"No, I don't-"
"Don't lie to me!"
SLAP!
I raised a shaking hand to my face and touched my cheek gingerly. God, did it hurt! For a man with a cast on his arm and recovering from having his spleen removed because of the accident, he was frightfully strong.
"Vernon, please," I begged, "Don't do this!" I was sobbing now and it didn't feel like I would ever be able to stop.
"I will do whatever the hell I want!" he yelled, striking me once again.
"Please don't!" I begged, bracing for another impact as I slowly backed away.
Just then, Dudley walked in through the back door and stopped dead in his tracks. He took in the still smoky room, the water and half cooked pasta spilled on the floor, and the tears streaming down my face with confusion. This was by far the worst it had ever gotten.
"What's going on?" he asked stupidly.
"Nothing! Get out of here!" Vernon yelled.
Ignoring his dismissal, Dudley quickly asked, "What happened to Mum?"
Still crying softly, I looked away, too embarrassed for my son to see me this way.
"I said leave!"
"No! I want to know what's going on!" Dudley yelled back, defiantly.
"Don't you dare speak to me that way!" Vernon bellowed as he stalked across the room and threw a punch at his son's face. Dudley, having not expected to be struck so quickly or violently, took the full force of the impact and fell backwards into the kitchen chairs and onto the floor.
"What the fuck?" Dudley asked lamely, rubbing his sore jaw, and looking up at his father in disbelief.
"I'll teach you to come into my house and talk to me that way, you jobless piece of shit!" Vernon yelled, raising his arm to strike his son again.
Something inside of me snapped at the sight of my husband beating my son. Vernon had struck Dudley only once before and I promised myself that I would never let it happen again. "Vernon, no!" I screamed, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him away.
Dudley had just enough time to get to his feet and raise his arms in defense. "Dad, what's going on? Why are you so mad at me?" he asked, his eyes wide with fear.
I could sense how scared and confused Dudley was right now. He had always been close with his father and probably couldn't fathom the reason for Vernon's violent display.
Before Vernon could reply, I said, "Dudders, Daddy has been drinking and doesn't know what he is saying or doing. Why don't you go back outside?"
"You little bitch!" Vernon yelled angrily. He then grabbed one of my arms and spun me around so that he twisted it behind my back. He then pushed me up against a pantry cupboard and slammed my head into it.
I knew I had hit my head pretty hard and was about to black out when I felt Vernon slam me quickly into the cupboard again, so that my badly burned torso and legs rubbed up against it. I also felt something in my arm that was twisted behind me snap and I was quickly and painfully brought back to consciousness. I screamed in utter agony, realizing that he had broken my arm.
"Dad! NO! Leave her alone!" Dudley cried.
My son had seen Vernon strike me before, but never like this. The most brutal of Vernon's attacks had always happened behind closed doors… the same way he used to punish the boy. Dudley had been innocently unaware of his father's ways for many years, but had finally started to comprehend the magnitude of what his father was capable of since the accident. Seeing his mother hurt like this had finally gotten to be too much for him.
There was some type of struggle behind me and I felt Vernon's hands leave my battered body. I carefully brought my arm around in front of me and cradled it to my chest as I slumped to the floor. I was in so much pain I could barely even register what was happening around me. I was in danger of passing out, but I knew to do so could be deadly.
Through heavy lidded eyes I saw Dudley eventually pin his father to the floor- all those years on the wrestling team finally came in handy, I thought distractedly- and begun punching Vernon repeatedly. He only pulled away when it appeared as if Vernon had finally blacked out. Vernon was a large man, but Dudley was quite possibly even larger and had easily over taken his father. The amount alcohol Vernon had consumed before he had come home had also slowed his reactions and had given Dudley some leverage that he might not have otherwise had if his father had been sober. Dudley gave his father one last swift kick in the side, before kneeling down and crawling toward me.
"Mummy?" he asked tearfully.
Looking at my son, I could see that he didn't escape the struggle unharmed. His eye was becoming swollen and lip was bleeding. And the fist of his right hand was bloodied, whether it was his own or from his father I did not know. What I did know was that all of this was my fault. No child should ever have to defend their mother from their father.
"Mummy?" he asked again, his bottom lip quivering now as the tears spilled from his baby blue eyes. After watching him beat his own father up for me, it was hard to believe that he was still just a little boy and not an adult.
"We need to leave…" I said thickly. "We can't stay here anymore."
No one could ever possibly imagine how difficult that decision was for me. They couldn't know what it means to leave a marriage of seventeen years and or all of the history that comes with it. They couldn't know what it was like for me to stay in what I now know to be an abusive relationship for the sake of the man I still loved despite what he had done to me.
But the strain of that relationship, compounded with the financial hardship had gotten to be too much. And I needed out. It was a matter of life or death now, and I had my fifteen year old son to consider.
Dudley nodded and helped me to my feet. Not knowing how long we had before Vernon regained consciousness, we risked going upstairs and filling as many duffle bags and suitcases as we could carry with clothing and personal mementos we couldn't bear to leave behind. Within eight minutes we were packed and ready to leave.
Dudley carried everything outside and piled it all into the car. Once I was seated inside, he ran back in to steal the keys from his father. I sat there quietly weeping, not knowing where to go or who could help us. All the credit cards had been maxed out, and the only money I had was the tips from my shift today in my pocket. I was still soaking wet and in a lot of pain. My brain was too foggy to even think about what we were going to do next.
Fortunately, Vernon had still been out cold when my son bravely went back inside out home. Dudley quickly returned with the keys and slid into the driver's seat. He wasn't even old enough to drive, but I wasn't really concerned about that right now. I was in no condition to be doing much of anything and I was sure he could figure it out. Sliding the key into the ignition, Dudley started the car and we were on are way. Dudley wasn't much of a driver, but he knew enough to fumble his way out of the drive way and onto our street. We were leaving and that was all that mattered.
Unfortunately, we hadn't even made to the other end of the block before the car sputtered and rolled to a stop on the side of the street.
"What? What did I do?" Dudley asked, panicking now as he tried to start the engine again and again.
Leaning over to him I looked at the dashboard and saw that the fuel light was on and the needle of the gas gauge was on E. Empty. Vernon had left the car fucking empty! He probably spent every last dollar I had given him to fill the car today with petrol on his precious whiskey.
"It's out of fuel… it's out of fuel… oh god, it's out of fuel…" I began mumbling over and over again, tears that wouldn't seem to end splashing down my face. "Oh please god no… it's out of fuel…"
Even if there was a petrol station in sight it wasn't like we could really afford to use what little money we had on a full tank of petrol. And we certainly couldn't call for a tow truck. I was truly terrified now and I was crying uncontrollably, not caring that I was the adult and that I should be strong for my son just now. I was in pain and I was scared. There was no telling how long it would be before Vernon woke up and came looking for us.
"Mummy, what are we going to do?" Dudley asked, crying along with me.
"I don't know!" I snapped, regretting my tone as soon as I said that.
Dudley buried his face in his hands and began sobbing now, finally registering everything that had happened.
"I'm sorry baby," I said, reaching out with my good arm to hug him. "It's going to be alright. Let Mummy think."
I took a steadying breath and glanced around at the houses around us. Thankfully, all the neighbors were inside and hadn't noticed the odd pair in the car filled with their belongings.
"Could we ask one of the neighbors for help?" Dudley asked, hopefully.
"No!" I said firmly, not trusting anyone on this street to help us without blabbing it all over the neighborhood. I just couldn't put my pride aside it seemed.
"What… w-what about Mrs. Figg?" he asked, hope shining in his eyes now.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"That man… the red-haired one at the courthouse… he's one of them, the father of one of Harry's friends, I think… he said that if we need help that we should go to her and she would contact them," Dudley explained.
I couldn't understand what he was saying. I shook my head to try to clear the fogginess that was overcoming me and instantly regretted it. The pain that had begun when my head was slammed into the cupboard was renewed with such fierceness that I felt as if I might black out. Closing my eyes to steady myself I asked. "Who? What?"
"Mrs. Figg… that man said that if we needed help we should go to Mrs. Figg," Dudley explained slowly, as if he were trying to understand it himself.
"Which man?" I asked, still feeling a little lightheaded.
"The one that broke into our house to get Harry's things! The one that came to get him last summer and tried to put a curse on me!" Dudley explained impatiently.
"He said to go to Mrs. Figg?"
Dudley nodded emphatically.
"Why would he say that? Does he know her?" I asked, looking at my son carefully now.
Dudley sniffed and wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. "I don't know, but he said that she could help us. She would contact them and they would help us."
I stared at the dashboard trying to comprehend this bit of information. Was Arabella one of them? And if so, what did that mean? It would explain a lot about her odd behaviors, including keeping so many damn cats around. We had trusted her all those years to watch the boy when we wanted to go out. Had she ever suspected anything that was going on then? No, she couldn't have had or she would have contacted the boy's headmaster….the one that had left him on our doorstep. Could she even be trusted?
"Mummy?"
"Shh… I'm trying to think…" I muttered, gingerly feeling my broken arm to determine the amount of damage.
If Dudley and I went to her would she truly help us? But what if she did contact those freaks? Would they even help us after all that had happened to the boy in our home? That odd red haired fellow had offered to help them more than once. But if we accepted his help, would there be a price to pay? Could he be trusted?
Oh god, what if they wanted to use magic on us? I shivered at the thought and made myself a promise that I wouldn't allow any magic to touch myself or my son. I would not allow us to be tainted in such a way.
"Mummy?" Dudley called, still sniffling. "What are we going to do?"
Turning my attention to my precious son I took in his tear stained face, swollen eye, and split lip. My heart broke seeing him like that and I knew I had to get him away from here. But I had no where to go and no one to turn to. I've never had many friends; just acquaintances I had made at garden parties and school functions that I no longer attend. And it wasn't like I could go to any of them for help. Going to police would only cause more trouble and possibly bring Vernon near Dudley, which I refused to let happen again. I didn't even know if there was a shelter or something in Surrey or how to go about finding it if such a place existed. But I couldn't allow my only son, my precious boy, to sleep on the streets. What was I gong to do?
I really didn't want to ask for help from those people, but I couldn't see any other option. Besides, I could always back out and walk away if necessary, right?
"Grab the bags," I said finally and opened the car door. We were ready in seconds.
Dudley carried most of the burden because of the condition I was in, but I managed to drag one of the suitcases on wheels behind me. I was in a lot of pain and every step was excruciating. The burns on my waist and legs rubbed irritably against my damp clothing, and my arm was painfully jarred with each step. I tried to keep it against my body, but nothing I did seemed to lessen the pain I was in. We made our way back down Privet Drive and turned onto Wisteria Walk. All the while I was praying that Vernon had regained consciousness and was heading our way.
I could see Arabella Figg's house insight, and I picked up my pace. I wanted to be off this damn street in case Vernon woke up and came looking for us. Dudley made it there first and dumped his load onto the lawn, ran up the porch steps, and began knocking frantically on her door. Arabella soon appeared in the doorway looking quite alarmed.
"Dudley, what is it?"
My son was slightly out of breath from his brief run and it took him a moment before he could speak properly. "We need help," Dudley finally blurted out, still huffing and puffing.
"What happened?" she asked, looking back and forth between the two of us now.
Dudley looked to me for guidance as I slowly made my way towards the house, but I wasn't exactly sure what to say.
"Is it Vernon? Mr. Tibbles came and warned me that there might be trouble at your house…" she began.
"Mr. Tibbles?" Dudley mouthed to me in confusion.
I didn't know who or what she was talking about, but I knew that we needed help. I slowly climbed the steps and stood before her, mustering the courage to beg if necessary. "Please… I can't stay with him anymore…" I said, my eyes filling with tears yet again.
The lines around Arabella's face softened and a great sadness seemed to overcome her as she began to understand what I meant. "Oh dear, I was afraid of something like this… Well, come in…" she said softly.
I stepped forward and entered her home, leaving Dudley to bring our things in. Arabella directed me to the living room and sat me down in a lounge chair. Seeing the distress I was in, she kneeled before me and took the hand of my good arm into her own.
"Are you alright?" she asked. There was no judgment in her voice, only concern and I felt relieved that I wouldn't have to justify why I waited so long to leave. Looking into her eyes I saw such sadness there for my plight, that I felt myself come undone completely. I shook my head and began to sob uncontrollably.
Leaning forward, she gathered me into her arms and held me softly so as to not aggravate my injuries, whispering comforting words into my ear. It had been so long since I had been held this way, that I allowed myself to be comforted. I felt like a helpless child being reassured by a motherly figure. So strong was this feeling that I ached for my own mother, who I lost so long ago. I poured my heart out to her in that moment, telling her every awful thing that had happened today and lapping up the comfort that only she seemed able to give me.
When I seemed to have finally cried myself out, she pulled back and reached for a tissue from a nearby end table. Rather than hand me the tissue, she took it upon herself to gently wipe away my tears with a compassion I had not felt from anyone else in such a long time. She was certainly a kind and gentle soul, and her caring nature filled me with hope that my son and I might still have a future. Arabella then handed me a fresh tissue so that I could blot my nose.
Now that I had some semblance of control I noticed my son sitting on the couch on the far wall, watching me anxiously and drying his own tears.
"There now… we had ourselves good cry. Now what would you like me to do? How can I help?" she asked. She stood up from her kneeled position and took a seat in the chair next to me.
I sniffled and said, "I don't know…I need help, but I'm not sure how you can even help us…"
"Well, I do have a lot of friends who might be able to help," she said carefully.
"What kind of friends?" I asked, blotting my nose again.
Arabella didn't seem sure how to answer. "Hmm… what do you know about me?"
"Not much. Only what you've told me over the years. But Dudley said that one of them said that you could help us," I replied.
"One of them? Do you mean a witch or a wizard?" she asked knowingly.
"Yes," I said, my voice full of disdain. "Are you a witch too?"
"Me, a witch? No. I'm a squib," Arabella explained.
"A what?" Dudley asked.
"A squib," she replied matter-of-factly, looking over at my son now. "I wasn't born with magical powers, but I come from a magical heritage."
I was a little more than startled by this information. I couldn't believe that she was acting as though there was nothing abnormal about magic, especially when she had been so kind to me only a few moments ago. How could I have been so wrong about her? I felt disgusted knowing that she was in fact one of them, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. I had no where else to go and I needed her help.
Arabella continued her explanation. "I was sent here to look over Harry as he was growing up."
"You've been watching us all this time?" I asked in a caustic tone. I was still a little more than irritated to learn that she was somehow one of them. "You were spying on us, weren't you!"
Arabella gave me a leveling look. "No, I wasn't spying on you. I was sent to watch over Harry's general well being and to make sure that no dark witches or wizards attempted to hurt him in anyway. I had no reason to believe that Harry would come to harm in your home. But apparently there was a lot going on in your home that I didn't know about."
I snorted at her comment knowing how true it was. It wasn't like I could deny what my husband had done to the boy over the years or how I had treated him for that matter. Besides, she probably knew all the details already from the freaks that had taken the boy from the hospital.
She looked over at me and I could no longer see the understanding that she held for me earlier in her face. Her whole demeanor had changed now as she crossed her arms over her chest and studied me carefully. "What I do know, however, that your husband wasn't alone in the abuse that Harry suffered. You may not have physically assaulted the poor boy, but you did your share of emotional neglect to him, Petunia," Arabella said. "And starved him as well, I hear. You should be ashamed of yourself!"
I shrugged, not really caring if she was going to judge me on that point or not. It wasn't like I ever asked for the boy to be sent to our home. I did what I felt I needed to do in order to protect my family. Lily's unnaturalness had brought about not only the deaths of her and her husband, but our parents as well. I was not about to let the boy's unnaturalness cause Dudley to meet a similar fate. So I did what I thought was necessary to prevent any of that from happening. I kept the boy at a distance and never volunteered any information about who he truly was. So what if it scarred him emotionally. I had my son's well being to consider.
"So are you going to help us, or not?" I asked irritably.
"Of course I am. Just because I don't like what you've done to Harry in the past, doesn't mean that I'm going to allow something similar happen to you and your son. Everyone deserves a second chance," she explained.
I was suddenly filled with relief and I nodded gratefully. For a few moments there I thought that she might not help us because of how I had chosen to raise the god forsaken boy.
"I need to make a call now. I can't heal you myself, but can I get you some tea, or perhaps some ice before I contact my friends. That arm looks painful," she said, standing up now.
"Some ice please," I said softly, trying to reposition my arm so that it wasn't so painful. "And maybe some aspirin."
She nodded and headed for the kitchen. I could feel Dudley watching me carefully, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him just now. My shame and guilt weighed heavily in my heart now and I couldn't imagine how I was ever going to make this up to him.
Arabella returned moments later carrying an ice pack, some bandages, aspirin, and a glass of water. I took the aspirin immediately, hoping that it would dull the pain in my arm and the fierce headache I had developed. Arabella then helped me to tightly wrap my arm into a fixed position until I could have a cast put on. I was thankful when it was finally all over. It hurt to lay the pack on my wounded arm but I knew the ice would soon dull the pain. Arabella handed Dudley a smaller ice pack which he promptly put against the side of his face, where his father had punched him.
"Do you want to change into some dry clothes?" she asked, taking in my still damp clothing.
"I'm fine," I replied.
Truthfully, I didn't want to see the burns just yet. They were incredibly painful, but I was hoping they weren't as bad as they seemed. I had been burned by hot water before and the burns always seemed to be better within a few days time. I couldn't bear to think about the burns being any worse with everything else already going on.
"Excuse me for a moment," Arabella said, turning away from me now.
I nodded and watched as she headed towards the fireplace and grabbed a handful of silvery powder from a flower pot on the mantle. I was about to remark that it was awfully odd to have fire burning on such a warm day, when I saw her throw the powder into the fire. I knew immediately what was about to happen having seen my sister do something similar twenty years earlier. Fearful for my son I gestured to him to come towards me and away from the fireplace. He did so quickly and sat on the arm of the chair beside me, watching the old woman.
"What is she doing?" Dudley asked in a frightened whisper.
Before I could answer Arabella had kneeled before the fire and stuck her head into the colorful flames. She then loudly called out, "Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix!"
I couldn't hear everything that was being said, but I heard enough to understand that someone would be arriving shortly to help us with our situation. When the "call" was finished, she stood up and dusted off the soot that had collected onto her clothing.
"I'm sure that my friends can heal you as soon as they get here," she said, nodding to my arm.
"I don't want them to use any magic on me or my son," I said firmly.
"But-"
"No magic, Arabella! Promise me!" I yelled.
"I promise, Petunia. But I can't promise that you might not see magic done in front of you," she explained.
"Fine."
While we waited, Arabella offered Dudley and myself a plate of sandwiches and some lemonade. We were both surprisingly hungry and ate readily. Dudley, of course ate most of the sandwiches and seemed almost eager for more. Within minutes, the flames in the fireplace had turned a sickening green color and three men stepped through them one at a time and into the living room. I was suddenly reminded of the time that that family of red heads had tried to come through our boarded up fireplace and all of the chaos that ensued.
My son obviously remembered the incident as well. Dudley stiffened beside me in fear, and when it finally became too much for him he dashed around to the back of the chair and stood behind me. My poor boy had already had too many bad encounters with these people and it was understandable how he might be afraid of them. He certainly had a right to be after receiving a tail and having his tongue enlarged to massive proportions.
I took in the sight of these three men, wondering if I had met them before. Never before had I seen such an odd group of people. The oldest of the group wore purple robes and had a long white beard. Another man was quite pale in appearance and was dressed entirely in black. He was the scariest of the bunch and I wondered if he might also be a vampire. The final wizard that had come through was a young man with long red hair pulled into a pony tail and had some god awful tooth hanging from an earring in his ear. He seemed familiar somehow and I wondered if he was related to that red headed family that the boy seemed so fond of.
Arabella greeted the group and began whispering something to them. They occasionally glanced our way, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. They finally all nodded and broke apart. The two younger men followed Arabella into the kitchen, leaving Dudley and I alone with the old man. He seated himself beside me, in the same chair that Arabella had sat in earlier.
"Petunia Dursley?"
"Y-yes…" I answered somewhat fearfully.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore…"
"You… you are the one that left the boy on our doorstep…" I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes, I did… a mistake I now realize," he replied, his piercing blue eyes studying me carefully over his spectacles.
I looked away, unable to bear his fierce scrutiny.
"I've recently learned that all is not what it seems in your household. I was under the illusion that Harry Potter was well cared for in your home, an illusion that he helped perpetuate I'm afraid. But Harry was never safe living there…. and apparently you are no longer safe as well…"
"My husband, Vernon, he's not well… he drinks a lot, you see…and we've been having financial trouble… and he doesn't always realize what he is doing," I replied shakily, not really understanding why I was defending the very man I was trying to leave.
"Petunia, you can make every excuse you want, but they are just that… excuses. What your husband has done to Harry and now to you and your son is unforgivable," Mr. Dumbledore replied.
I began crying softly, knowing that this was true, but it was still a hard truth to bear.
"You're not going to do anything to him, are you?" I asked fearfully. Despite all the pain and hardship Vernon had caused me, I still loved him and I didn't want to see him come to harm.
"No. We'll allow your Muggle court system to deal with him appropriately."
I nodded, knowing that Vernon would inevitably go to jail for his previous crimes. At least there he would be cared for and I didn't have to worry about him being all alone.
"Now, we need to decide where we are going to move you…"
"Move?" Dudley asked, feeling a little more confident now.
"Yes, move. You certainly don't want to stay here, do you?"
"No," I said emphatically, wiping away my tears.
"As I am sure you are opposed to living in a magical community, do you have any relatives you could stay with?" Mr. Dumbledore asked.
"No, I have no one left," I said bitterly.
"Friends?" he asked.
"No one I trust…"
"Any old friends that you might have lost contact with over the years…"
I began to shake my head when a name suddenly came to mind. "Abbey!"
"Wait… yes, I think I do," I said excitedly. "Abbey. I mean Abigail Williams…no, that's not right, I can't remember her married name anymore…. but we used to be very close when we were kids and we remained pen pals ever since… I haven't written to her in four years and I haven't seen in her probably six… but I'm sure she would take us in, at least temporarily…"
Mr. Dumbledore nodded. "Alright, we'll try to find your friend Abigail. Do you have a phone number or an address?"
"No, that would all be back at the house, and I don't want to go there…"
"Do you know where it would be located? I could send someone-"
"No! Don't do that! I-I don't want him knowing that I've asked for help from you," I explained, feeling my heart starting to pound with anxiety and my headache increase. "Besides, I don't think I even have the correct address anymore… it's been so long."
"I see…"
"Can you find her?" I asked.
"We'll try. Severus? Bill?" he then called.
The two younger wizards entered the living room from the kitchen.
"Yes, headmaster," said the man in black. He glanced over in my direction and I was unnerved by the stoic look on his face. Though his face was almost expressionless, I could see something in his eyes that unsettled me greatly. It was as if he was peering into my very soul and judging my worth.
"Severus, I have a name of someone I wish for you to locate. Mrs. Dursley and her son need to be relocated as soon as possible. She was a pen pal with a woman that she has not seen or heard from for a few years, but her estranged friend is our best bet. Her name was Abigail Williams, though she may go by a married name now," Mr. Dumbledore explained.
"Do we have an approximate location where she might be so I don't find myself on some wild hippogriff chase?" the man named Severus asked, his voice low and grating.
Mr. Dumbledore looked tome for this information. I didn't know what in the world a hippogriff was, but I answered just the same. "Scotland… the east side, I think…"
The man named Severus nodded and seemed to silently calculate his next move.
"Sir? I would like to come as well. I know the area. Before Egypt, Gringott's had me working on some curse breaking on some of the ancient temples in that region of Scotland," said the red haired man that I presumed to be named Bill.
Mr. Dumbledore looked to Severus who nodded in consent. "Very well. Good luck gentleman."
"Actually, sir, before we leave, I have something to give Mrs. Dursley," said Severus, coming forward now and pulling a bottle out of his long black robes. He handed it to me, a grave expression on his face.
"What is it?" I asked, as I took the crystalline bottle and observed the blue liquid within.
"A healing potion… for your injuries…" he said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down his nose at me.
"I don't want it…" I said, trying to hand it back to him.
"Keep it. I know you don't want to be healed magically, but the chemical ingredients within that potion are no different than some of the Muggle concoctions your doctors might give you. Only this one works to heal you almost immediately."
"Really?" I asked, not missing the curious look the headmaster gave this man.
"Really."
I shrugged my shoulders in resignation and regretted it instantly as my arm seared in pain once again. I really didn't want to take that potion because I was afraid of what it might do to me, but I didn't want to live in pain either. I decided to keep the bottle for now and decide what to do with it later.
Taking in the pained look on my face, Mr. Dumbledore asked, "Are you sure you won't allow us to heal you with magic?"
"No!" I replied firmly.
"As you wish…."
Bill and Severus left us alone again and re-entered the kitchen. I heard two distinct pops and knew they had probably vanished into thin air like I had seen Lily do so long ago. Dumbledore sat beside me once again and looked me over.
"Are you sure you want to do this? There's no going back."
"Yes."
"Do you have any financial obligations that would prevent you from using your own name when we relocate you?" Mr. Dumbledore asked.
"No," I replied with a smile. My only saving grace is that Vernon insisted that all the bills be in his name. I'm sure it had something to do with his ego and needing to feel like he was a man. "But I would like to return to my maiden name… Evans. Dudley can keep his own last name if he wishes."
I turned my head to look at my son still standing behind me and I knew from the expression on his face that he was undecided about it all.
"We can do that. We have the ability to create whatever Muggle paperwork is necessary to start you life over," he replied.
Suddenly the flames in the fireplace turned green once again and the red haired man I had become acquainted with over the summer stepped out over the hearth.
"Arthur… I'm glad you are here," said Mr. Dumbledore. "I need to tend to some things at headquarters, and I was hoping you might sit with Petunia until Severus and Bill return."
"Yes, sorry about that. I was making sure that we had a guard on duty for tonight at… well you know," he said eyeing me carefully. "And I stopped at headquarters on the way. Sirius is in a ripe mood right now, wanting to come here and deal with all of this himself. It was all Remus and I could do to prevent him from coming."
"Sirius? Sirius Black?" I asked, feeling the words getting choked in my throat. That was the name of the mass murderer that was all over the news two summers ago. "Isn't that the boy's godfather?"
"Er… no, different Sirius," Arthur said quickly. I could tell that he was lying to me somehow and I wondered what it all meant.
"I'll handle him. Thank you, Arthur for coming. I know you wanted to be here. Let me know when our friends return and what news they bring," said Mr. Dumbledore.
"Of course," he said.
We all watched as Mr. Dumbledore used the same powder that Arabella had used earlier to disappear in the flames of the fireplace. Why these people insisted upon traveling through fireplaces was beyond me.
"I'm glad that you finally decided to get some help," said Arthur, sitting beside me now.
I looked away, not willing to meet his gaze or speak to him. For some reason I was resentful of this man and all that he knew about my family despite the fact that he had promised that these people would help me, which they had.
When he realized I was purposely giving him the silent treatment, he sighed. "Fine, be that way."
Arabella thankfully appeared from the kitchen at that moment and saved us from the tension that had steadily grown in the room. She served us cups of tea from a tray and handed us some biscuits.
The next two hours seem to pass in a total blur. I was beyond exhausted and I think I may have fell asleep in the blasted chair waiting for some type of confirmation as to what was going to happen to me and my son.
Finally the two men returned with fortunate news. They had found her. They had found my dear sweet Abbey and she was willing to take us in, at least temporarily until I could get back on my feet. Apparently she had lost her husband to cancer a few years ago and had been living alone ever since. After contacting Mr. Dumbledore, the two men set everything into motion. They seemed irritated that I still refused to allow them to do magic on us, but they helped us just the same.
Before long a car had pulled up into Arabella's driveway. All of the men worked together to get our duffle bags and suitcases into the vehicle. By now I had changed into some dry clothes and was feeling much more comfortable despite my many aches and pains. Fortunately the burns on my legs were minimal and I knew with a strong salve they would heal soon. For some odd reason I had decided to keep the little potion bottle the dark haired wizard had given me and stowed into one of the duffle bags before it was loaded. I was sure that I wouldn't use it, but I a part of me wanted to take the potion and end the pain I was in.
With everything in order, we were led out to the car where a large bald headed black man sat behind the wheel.
"This is Kinglsey Shacklebolt. He will be driving you to the train station where you will board a train that will take you to Scotland. My son, Bill, will escort you on the train and make sure you don't come to any harm," explained Arthur as he helped me into the back seat with my son.
"That's not necessary…but thank you," I said, speaking to this red haired man for the first time all evening. Bill climbed into the front passenger seat and closed the door behind him.
Arthur seemed to hesitate for a moment, weighing his words, "Are you sure you don't want to see Harry before you leave? You may never see your nephew again."
I could see Severus looking at me curiously from where he stood near the porch.
"No, he's brought nothing but trouble to our lives," I said firmly. I had been asked this question earlier and my feelings hadn't changed.
Arthur opened his mouth like he was about to protest, but then thought better of it.
"Goodbye, Petunia," he said, his voice sad and low.
I said nothing in return, realizing that I hadn't even thanked any of these people, and turned my head away to look to my son. Dudley had been quiet and reserved all evening and wondered how he was taking all of this. We would discuss when we were finally all alone.
The car pulled out of the driveway and onto the street. Arthur and Severus both watched us drive away, their arms crossed over their chest looking displeased.
As our car sped away, I mentally said good bye to this little neighborhood in Little Whinging. I knew I would never be coming back and I could now comprehend all that I was leaving behind.
I began crying again softly, for what seemed like the millionth time today, and Dudley scooted over and took me into his arms. He thought I was crying because I was sad to be leaving, as I am sure he must be.
But I was crying because I was happy to be finally free.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who decided to give this one-shot a chance and read it all the way through. Okay, what did you all think? This was much longer than I had originally intended. My goal was to make the domestic abuse scene as realistic as possible. If it was this bad for Petunia, imagine how Harry's life might have been. I tried my best to keep Petunia in character considering the nature of this story, and I hope you have a better understanding of the inner workings of this desperate woman. She was quite cruel to Harry herself, but I found myself feeling bad for her in this story just the same. I loved writing this piece, but I wasn't sure how well it would be received. So tell me what you all thought in a review. Your comments and feedback help feed my muse.