|
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far! As you can probably tell, it's not your average Harry Potter fan fiction. ;o)
Harry realized all too quickly that he should not have feared boredom. The weeks after he returned to four Privet drive were filled by a list of chores and his aunt and uncle had likely spent the bulk of the Winter comprising. He stood in the driveway and stared at the list, trying to feel grateful for it. As long as the chores kept him busy, they couldn't pick on him as much. His eyes drifted from the list, to the car he was supposed to begin washing and he wrinkled his nose in displeasure. "And make it shine!" he heard his uncle shout from inside, more than likely watching him from behind the curtain-covered window. "And make it shine!" Harry muttered in a whiny, sarcastic tone. He knelt and picked up a bucket of soapy water by the wire handle, then tossed the liquid across the side of the vehicle. It streamed down, soap bubbles oozing and shimmering in the hot summer sun. Almost as much as wishing he were at the Weasley's, Harry wished he could use his magic outside of school. He watched as the suds dripped from the car onto the gravel drive, contemplating how amusing it would be to somehow charm the car into the Dursley's living room. Perhaps they would be civil to him then. Or, perhaps they would throw him out for good. He was rather certain that the Weasley's would take him in. Someone would take him—that he was sure off. He was Harry Potter after all, and he doubted the Ministry would let him roam the streets homeless. That was one fortunate thing about being "famous". "Stop that staring off into space!" Vernon Dursley bellowed from the stoop. Harry turned to see him standing with his hands on his bloated hips, sneering bitterly. He muttered an apology that he was sure his uncle hadn't heard and quickly began scrubbing the side of the car with a worn cloth. "I've got company coming for dinner tonight," Vernon said, his voice still raise, but lowered enough so that his berating wouldn't be overheard by the neighbors. "You know the routine. After you work, you disappear. Got it? You don't live here." "Got it," Harry muttered. "What was that?" Vernon snapped. "I got it!" Harry shouted, purposely hoping to attract neighborly attention. Vernon winced at his volume, but said nothing. Instead he turned and vanished into the house once again, slamming the door behind him. The Dursley's spent the rest of the day in their usual "company preparation mode'. Harry was bellowed at constantly as he ran about, doing the bulk of the housework while Dudley sat in whatever room he occupied, amusing himself by watching Harry slave over the cleaning. Aunt Petunia was busy in the kitchen, preparing the evenings meal, while Vernon Dursley sat at the table, reading a stack of papers whose contents were unknown to Harry. "This is very important," Vernon was telling Harry moments before his guests arrived. "You are to behave yourself! If I hear one word from up there—just one word, I'll kill you myself and bury you in the basement." Harry nodded his acquiescence while silently thinking that if his uncle did attempt to kill him, he would certainly use magic to prevent it. Expulsion was a small price to pay for not spending eternity buried in the Dursley's basement. Once he'd sufficiently threatened Harry, Vernon went back to studying his papers. "Do you think you will get this deal, darling?' Petunia asked, peeking over his shoulder. As they busied themselves discussing the fancy new homes they would be buying by the sea, Harry tiptoed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, eager to begin his hiding. Any excuse to be away from the Dursley's was welcome. And he felt confident that for a few hours at least, they wouldn't bother with him as long as he was quiet. He could study and possibly catch up on a little homework. Downstairs the doorbell rang and the sounds of the twittering Dursley's could be heard, cheerfully fake. Harry removed his books from their hiding place and attempted to study. He had only been studying for half an hour or so when a loud, chipper voice came floating up the stairs. "Come now, Vernon! Just one more glass!" Harry, who sat on his bed, raised his eyebrows over the edge of his book and glanced at his closed bedroom door. Cheerful, nearly drunken laughter could be heard downstairs, muffling slightly Vernon Dursley's attempt to reject the suggestion of another drink. Curious, Harry hopped off his bed and crept to the door, inching it open slightly. "Well, one more wouldn't hurt, 'spose," Vernon said, sounding as though he'd already had one too many. "What a git," Harry whispered aloud, listening as Petunia giggled shrilly at something which one of the guests had said. He shut the door gently and went back to his studying. It was a loud crash an hour later that next interrupted Harry's attempt at doing his homework. He dropped the book into his lap and stared at the door. There was another loud noise which sounded strikingly like someone running into a solid object then falling over it. Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry once again abandoned his homework and peered out the bedroom door. From his post at the top of the stairs, he saw a strange man pass before the stairs quickly, heading towards the kitchen. "I reckon you've had enough," he said, no longer sounding cheerful. In fact, the man sounded downright dismayed. "Nonsense!" Vernon bellowed drunkenly. There was a sudden sound of glass breaking and liquid splashing in the kitchen, indicating that the man had just dropped either a glass or bottle of wine. "Oh, Vernon!" Petunia cried, sounding distraught. There was another crash and a woman screamed. Unable to resist, Harry pattered down the stairs in his stocking feet and skidded to a stop in the kitchen doorway. "Oh, wow," he whispered, his mouth agape. He took a step into the kitchen, barely able to believe his eyes as uncle Vernon's fancy dinner jacket was flung through the air over his head by his uncle, who was standing on the kitchen table. The man did a sort of twirl, then resumed facing his dinner guests, who had all left their chairs and were huddled against the far wall, watching in horror. Dudley had his hand pressed over his eyes, his mouth twisted in shame. "Check out these moves, ladies," Vernon drawled, shaking his chubby hips which jiggled noisily on his body. He began to unbutton his shirt, but his fingers couldn't work the buttons in his intoxicated state. Giving up, he grasped each side firmly and tore it open, sending small, white buttons pinging off the walls. Harry ducked to avoid a button, then met the eyes of the Dursley's guests. By their expression, he could tell they were torn between being horrified by Vernon's behavior and confused by the appearance of the strange, dark-haired boy. "Vernon!" Petunia cried as he bent over and shook his backside at the group of horrified people. He righted himself and began to unbutton his pants. "Get him off there!" the man said, making no moves to remove Vernon from the table. "Dad?" Dudley removed his hands from his eyes and stared at his father who was attempting to remove his belt, the only object holding on his undone trousers. Petunia inched towards the table hesitantly as Vernon became engrossed in the task of removing his belt, which was obviously quite difficult for a man in his state. He couldn't merely tear it off, as he did his shirt (which was still hanging by one sleeve on his right arm.) His mouth hung open slightly, emitting a small stream of drool down his chin as he concentrated on the buckle. Following his aunt's example, Harry stepped forward as she reached up in an attempt to lead him down from the table. Inwardly, he was laughing madly at the scene, but outwardly he plastered an expression of seriousness on his face, biting the inside of his lower lip to prevent himself from giggling. He reached out and grasped Vernon's left elbow as Petunia grasped the right, and together the tried to lead him towards the table edge. "Come now, Vernon," Petunia coaxed delicately. "Aww, Petunia, I'm just getting warmed up," he slurred, leering at her goofily as he stumbled off the table. Once his uncle was planted firmly on the kitchen floor, Harry let go and took a nervous step backwards. He lifted his eyes from his aunt and uncle to the far wall again and found the dinner guests gazing at him curiously. For the first time, he got a good look at them; they were tall and slender, both with dark brown hair and slender faces to match their figures. One was a man, who was only an inch or two taller than his female companion. They stared at him with uncertainly, their eyes occasionally glancing quickly at Vernon, who had begun to hum tunelessly. "Who are you?' the man finally asked. As if sobering suddenly, Vernon's head shot around to stare at his guests. His drunken smile faded as he seemed to sober slightly, realizing exactly just what he had done. He took a step towards them but stumbled and stopped again. He peered around the kitchen quickly, looking startlingly like a trapped rabbit. Then his eyes fell on Harry, who had inched back into the kitchen doorway. "YOU!" Vernon bellowed, the vein in his neck throbbing ominously. |
