Hey there ;)
I'm not very patient, so I'm updating now anyway. And well, I like Wednesdays :)
Thanks for the reviews :D 33
Thanks also to DarQuing who is my Beta :)
Enough nagging..
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On Tuesday, Harry was surprised to find Vernon and Dudley at breakfast when he walked down. Parkinson walked in silence after him as usual. She only spoke to him, and that was in his room and not very often.
"It's been a week, what are you still doing here?" Vernon barked at them as they entered the kitchen. Pieces of half-chewed eggs flew out of his mouth. Thankfully, none of it hit Harry or Parkinson. It just disgusted the food still on his plate further.
"He said a week or two, Uncle Vernon," Harry answered politely, "I'm sure someone will come in a few days."
"No, he said a week, and a week was what I agreed to. Now out!" the whale called. Parkinson tensed slightly at his side, probably at the prospect of not being safe.
"Vernon!" Petunia called from her place at the sink, "The boy is right, they will stay."
"So you take their side, woman, I should've known," he glared at his wife, "I should've known you'd pick your freak of a sister."
"I'm not taking anyone's side," the woman countered, "I'm merely trying to keep two children safe."
"They're freaks; the world would be a better place without them."
"They're human beings; their lives are worth as much as yours and mine."
Vernon roughly pushed his chair back and struggled his fat arse out of it before marching around the table to his wife. Harry saw fear in her eyes. He also saw her discreetly grabbing a hold of a kitchen knife behind her back. That was the last he saw of her before the whale covered his view.
Everyone in the kitchen heard his next words spoken in a dangerously low tone, "You will not compare me with those filthy animals, woman."
"Vernon, leave this house," she whimpered.
"You listen to me? You will not ever do that again," the whale continued.
"Leave this house."
They were silent for a while. Harry looked in shock at their behaviour. Parkinson looked in slight fear. And Dudley.. Dudley was eating and watching the TV as if this was an ordinary occurrence. Harry was ready to be sick at his cousin's nonchalant way of his father's threats to his mother.
"Fine, " Vernon spat eventually, "I wouldn't want to spend another minute in an infected house anyway. Dudley, come, we're leaving." The man walked out of the kitchen and his son dutifully followed. Not a minute later they heard the front door thrown closed.
Aunt Petunia let go of a breath she'd been holding but didn't release the knife until several moments after they heard the car drive away. She leaned further against the sink and once again fingered gently with the necklace around her neck. Her head was bent back and her eyes closed.
"Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked softly.
She turned her head to him and opened her eyes, "My marriage has not been good for many years," she stated simply, "Now eat or leave the kitchen."
Harry understood the under meaning in that simple sentence, and apparently, his aunt had chosen her sister and therefore her nephew. He felt sorry for the poor woman, for what Vernon could've put her through during the years that their marriage 'had not been good'.
"I'd rather not eat," he said truthfully, "But I'll stay anyway."
Petunia nodded but said nothing.
-,.,-
Early in the morning after the small scene in the kitchen brought forward another nightmare. When he heard the scream, Harry jumped out of his bed and went to Parkinson's. He sat down and gently rubbed her back as she lay there clutching the pillow again. She was awake; the scream from herself must've woken her once more.
The window was open again, and Harry got an idea, "Focus on the wind, it'll help you calm down," he said soothingly to the distressed girl. She nodded a little and her teary eyes looked at the window.
"Does it help?" Harry asked quietly after a few minutes. She nodded again. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She laid quiet for a while, "I was reminded by your.. uncle," she whispered harshly.
"Anyone would be," he replied. Vernon was quite like Voldemort, only in reverse.
Harry stayed and rubbed her back in soothing circles before he felt she would manage on her own. But when he tried to move away, she grabbed his arm again, "Stay, please," she begged.
Harry closed his eyes for the fraction of a second before he opened them again. He had no idea how to do this. He was not used to it, but he tried his best so he lay down on his back. The sad girl curled up at his side with her head on his chest and sighed contently.
-,.,-
"I repeat, you really should be an artist, " Parkinson stated from her spot next to Harry. She had self-invited herself to share his bed and watch him draw while she read.
"Maybe," he muttered.
"Seriously, you should. This is detailed and you capture beauty like I've never seen anyone do before, " she half-exclaimed. "Have you been drawing a lot?" she asked.
"Yeah," he answered, "When I was growing up here, there's not much to do."
"I understand that. And I'm glad I brought novels with me."
So it was novels she read, Harry thought. "Oh yeah? What are they called?"
"It's a series by Jean M. Auel, " the girl explained and showed him the purple cover. 'The Valley of Horses' he read under a sketched drawing of three horses, of those only one was coloured in soft brown. The author's name was in large letters above the horses.
Parkinson opened the cover and in neat letters written in blue ink was the text 'Happy Birthday my beloved Sophia.'. He looked at the girl as she traced the small letters with her left hand.
"My father gave the books to my mother on her last birthday. Mother lent them to me once she was done reading them. I never got around to actually read the series, but now.. She loves these books, and I feel closer to her when holding something she loves," she explained sadly.
"They'll make it, I'm sure of it," he said, trying to soothe her fears.
"I hope so.." she whispered. Harry looked at her sad face as continued to trace her father's words. Shortly after, a small teardrop fell its way to the yellowish inside of the cover. He brought his hand to her cheeks and wiped away another one on its way down her pale cheek.
After that small gesture, she turned to him, "Are we friends?"
He smiled a little at her, "I'd like to think so." Harry was surprised by his own words but didn't regret them. The short incidents throughout her stay at Privet Drive had somehow brought them together.
"Then call me Pansy, and I'll call you Harry," she stated, smiling a little herself.
-,.,-
The books Pansy reads are an actual series my mother read when I started writing this and well, I read a little of them and liked what little I did read so of course Pansy reads them. They are 5 books in the series now, but back in 1996, there were only 4 and the book Pansy reads now, is the second.
Enough nagging, but I'd like to remind you that this is pretty open story which is in need of more plot so please feel free to give your input. One thing I'd like to ask, in the future stories, there will be slash, any suggestions for pairing? (For Harry)
Let me know what you think, good or bad.
Love, Iivanainen