Tidings of Comfort
By: Lady DeathAngel
Disclaimer: Not mine, not profiting, 'nuff said.
Warnings: angst, hints of offscreen slash if you squint
A/N: Just a story that popped into my head a couple of days ago and demanded to be written. I was very keen on the idea of Harry's first few months away from his family and how Petunia would handle it and this was born. Self beta read, just so you know. Also not the warmest, fuzziest Christmas fic you'll read so if you're okay with angst (not overwhelming but there) then please read, enjoy, and review!
Petunia Dursley had decided that after Dudley, there would be no more children. Vernon hadn't cared much either way, but she heeded the warnings from doctors that she was simply too frail to birth another child and that this last one, a healthy and rather big baby, had almost killed her. Marge visited and held Dudley for a long time before looking down at Petunia with the veiled look of disgust she generally reserved for runts of litters and bad liquor and told her with a sniff that she'd better spoil this one as she wasn't fit to have another.
It had been painful to resign herself to never having another baby. She'd had a sister and Vernon had had one as well so they'd never been alone growing up. They'd both planned on their child having a sibling as well. Of course, Petunia, after a few weeks of sulking and finally realizing that Dudley was the best thing to have ever happened to her, went back to hating her sister and wishing she'd been an only child and resolving to spoil her son so he would never wonder what it was like to have a sibling. Because it was horrid.
And then, one morning in November, Petunia woke up to find a baby on her doorstep. Dudley was up within ten minutes of lugging baby Harry into the house and she spent the morning feeding him and pointedly ignoring the baby still sleeping on her sofa and listening to Vernon get ready for work, dreading having to share the news with him. He was, as she expected, angry. He yelled and said several words that Dudley repeated and that she would probably spend the rest of her life trying to get him to stop repeating. He cursed her sister and her sister's husband and Harry and said they'd get rid of him.
"We're not keeping that thing in our house," he said as if that was final.
She just shook slightly and looked away.
"We have to."
He glared at her.
"And why do we have to?" he demanded. "Your sister and her husband were a pair of good-for-nothing weirdos who never gave a damn about you or Dudley or me. They were too caught up with their sort, gallivanting about the country, waving sticks around and making toads fly. They're no more family than the neighbors and we've got no obligation to keep the thing, so get rid of it."
Petunia didn't answer. Instead she settled Dudley back into his high-chair and wondered vaguely why she was so offended. She didn't like the way he was speaking about Lily and James. She hated them, yes. She was scared of them and jealous of them but they'd only been dead for a day and here Vernon was, speaking ill of the deceased and not just random corpses but those of her sister and the love of her sister's life.
"There's a nice orphanage just outside of town," he said. "Take it there."
She shook her head.
"We can't. He's not safe."
"Woman!" Vernon roared. "I'm telling you I don't want it in my house! I'd rather it had died as well, but I'm betting your sister was out with that husband of hers and their friends and they got in over their heads. Probably left it home alone and that's the only reason it's still alive and for some reason you're supposed to take it on."
Petunia was shaking visibly now, with rage and grief and a dozen other things that she'd never come to terms with. She went to stand up but her legs could barely hold her so she had to grab the edge of the table to stay upright.
"I can't just leave him at an orphanage," she said softly.
"You can and you will. Now, I'm leaving before I'm late for work. There'll be no more discussing it."
She listened as he made his loud way out of the house and had just lowered her trembling body back into the chair when a loud wail split the air. She blinked at Dudley, but he was too busy scribbling on the table with his crayon to notice much else. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and then walked unsteadily into the living room. Harry was sitting up on the couch, eyes screwed up tight, mouth opened wide while he screamed and screamed.
She rushed to pick him up and instinctively took inventory. She changed his diaper and fed him and he never once stopped crying. She walked him around the house, stopping in on Dudley because he looked ready to start screaming as well. Finally, Harry stopped crying, holding his arms out, little fingers making a grasping movement for an object on the table of her dresser. She grabbed it and handed it to him and then set him on her hip and rushed downstairs at the first sound of the doorbell.
"It's open!" she yelled.
"I didn't know you were babysitting, Petunia," a voice said.
She glanced over her shoulder at Ariel Polkiss and smiled tightly.
"I didn't either, until this morning."
Ariel shook her head and made a noise in the back of her throat.
"Some mothers," she said. "So bloody inconsiderate."
Yes, Petunia thought to herself while she and Ariel walked into the living room, terribly inconsiderate of my sister to just up and die with no warning.
"And where's Dudley? He and Piers get on so well I thought I might take them both out to the park, if you're all right with that?"
Petunia nodded and sat Harry on the couch.
"It's quite all right. I think I'll join you, but I need to handle things around here first."
"No worries," Ariel assured her. "Can I hold him?"
She was looking at Harry who was looking back up at her, still holding the mirror he'd spotted in Petunia's room to his small chest. Piers, seated on his mother's other side, was gazing curiously at the boy.
"Yes. I'll just get Dudley."
She walked into the kitchen and picked him up, barely noting the mess he'd made on her table. She made her way back into the living room to see Ariel asking Harry what it was he'd found. He showed it to her, more of a brief flash of the object than anything, and then held it back to his chest.
"He's precious," Ariel said with a small smile. "Whose is he?"
Petunia coughed delicately.
"My sister's."
The entire demeanor Ariel had changed. She looked down at Harry with a frown and settled him back on the couch before grabbing Piers and rising.
"Well, you can help me put Dudley in the stroller, right? He'll be fine?"
Petunia looked down at Harry who was gazing about the house with wide green eyes.
My sister's eyes.
"Yes, I can."
A few minutes later, Ariel was off, Dudley and Piers sharing the stroller and hitting each other. Petunia didn't even have the chance to smile indulgently before she heard it. In the room at her back a small, tiny voice called pitifully, "Mummy?"
----(
He was settled in Dudley's stroller and Petunia was halfway down the street when a strident voice made her stop and an older woman rushed over with a shawl slipping off her shoulders and an odd looking handbag clutched in her fists.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Dursley," she cried. "But you'd best run back to your house. There's a whole lot of owls trying to peck their way right into your house."
Petunia frowned at the woman, Mrs. Arabella Figg if she remembered correctly. Yes, that was her name. She could still recall the woman moving in, leaving for several months with her husband and coming back without him, even more eccentric than before. She looked much like she had then, her eyes rimmed red and the tip of her nose raw. It seemed someone in her family had died, but Petunia didn't care much for the goings on of Arabella Figg. No one in the neighborhood did. The woman was batty and her husband had been even moreso.
"What?"
"Owls! A peck of them. One's particularly mean looking."
The blonde woman scowled at Mrs. Figg and then turned on her heel.
"Watch him, would you?"
She kept an eye on the older woman, who was bent low over the carriage and talking sweetly to Harry. Stupid, crazy woman.
There did, indeed, seem to be a peck of owls at her house. She spotted the mean looking one immediately: a stately looking creature that was tawny and rather large. He or she stared down at her with an angry set of eyes, took off from its perch near her door and dropped a large envelope in her hands. Immediately the other owls began doing much of the same, dropping parcels and packages into her hands, all with names that were familiar on the front of the envelopes. The last one was scarlet red and started smoking the minute it landed atop the small pile.
She looked around desperately and dropped the other letters, holding tightly to the smoking one, and made her frantic way into the house. Almost immediately a awful, deep voice filled the house. It echoed in her ears and there was no way around it. She had to keep Harry. She had to.
"Er, he's in need of a nappy change, I think," a soft voice said in the doorway.
She looked up sharply to see Mrs. Figg pushing the stroller into the foyer.
"You dropped these as well."
Petunia took the letters and rifled through them. They were all addressed to Harry. One from Sirius Black, one from Remus Lupin, one from Peter Pettigrew, one from Lily Potter and one from James Potter. And there was another letter, no address, just small handwriting on the front that read, 'To Petunia From Lily'. She looked down at them and then back up at Arabella Figg who was looking at her sadly.
"If you ever need help with him, I'd be pleased to watch him for you."
She nodded and said in a choked voice, "Can you take him now? Just for a few hours. There are nappies and things in his bag."
Mrs. Figg nodded and left, closing the door behind her.
Petunia crumpled to the floor and ripped her sister's letter open.
Dear Petunia, it read. I hope this letter finds you well. I know it's been quite a while since I've written, not since Harry's first birthday really. I've actually debated sending you this letter. It seems so final and James and Peter think I'm being paranoid but . . . if this letter ever finds its way to you I'm probably dead and you probably don't care. I know you hate me and you have your reasons. James is less understanding and thinks you're a bint and I'm a total prat for writing to you so often over the years, but he wouldn't get it. He's an only child. He doesn't understand it, not really. Even if he does have Sirius who is as good a brother as any. We're in hiding right now, James and Harry and I. James didn't want to take this course of action, but we were in too much danger otherwise. We've been working hard against an evil wizard named Voldemort as an underground group called the Order of the Phoenix. Only there aren't many of us, we're all dying, and now there's a spy among us.
It's tearing us apart, Petunia. We were all so close before and now no one trusts anyone. Sirius is convinced it's Remus and Remus is convinced it's Sirius. James refuses to listen to reason and Peter . . . he's acting odd. But he's keeping us safe so I've got to trust him. I'm scared and sometimes I get so bloody angry because it's not fair. Not all of us are going to make it and I can't stand the thought. I remember being seventeen and madly in love with James and thinking that we'd always be together and Remus and Sirius would always be there and Peter as well. James and I would get married and Remus and Sirius would wise up and get together and Peter would find a girl and we'd watch our children grow and laugh and get together at Christmas, gathered around a huge table with all of us happy and loving each other. And I imagined you'd be there too. Because what's a future without my sister?
I love you, Petunia. I know you don't like me, practically hate me, but I hope you still love me. And I hope that if anything happens to me you'll find time to meet with Harry someday and tell him about me and introduce yourself and love him because he'll need it.
The letter ended there, abruptly. There were tear stains on the bottom and a half-hearted signature and that was it. The last piece of her sister, save the boy who was down the street. Petunia sniffled and then started sobbing outright. Her sister hadn't been so painfully thin, and her only thought was that she would have had other children. Harry wouldn't have been an only child. Harry shouldn't have been an orphan.
----(
The next month passed quietly. Too quietly. Vernon didn't understand why they were keeping the boy, was convinced he'd have a bad influence on Dudley, and wouldn't speak to Petunia unless absolutely necessary. At least when Christmas grew nearer he started to make more of an effort, and for the most part it was easy to hand Harry off on Mrs. Figg whenever they went out, and they went out often. But Mrs. Figg was going to be gone for Christmas and Petunia was getting tired of the woman anyway. Every time they dropped Harry off with her she gave cross looks and made snide comments about bad parenting.
Still, Petunia didn't want Harry around for Christmas. She hadn't bought him any presents and Vernon could barely stand the sight of him and he and Dudley always seemed to fight with each other. Not to mention the only words he ever uttered made her and Vernon very uncomfortable.
Generally, Harry was a quite boy. Petunia much preferred Dudley's yelling and screaming and pounding on table tops because at least she didn't always have to check in on him to make sure he was still breathing. Harry only cried when he needed something, like food or a nappy change or a nap or his parents. And the latter usually didn't just mean tears. After about two days listening to Dudley demanding things ("Want cup! Want cake! Want telly!") Harry decided that to get his parents all he had to say was "Want mummy! Want daddy!".
It didn't work for him the way it did Dudley and Vernon didn't appreciate his cheek. After a day Harry tried asking for others. "Want Siri! Want Rem! Want Pete!" he cried for nearly half a day before exhausting himself. Eventually he stopped demanding and the requests became piteous wails in the middle of the night. Petunia would have to go to him and walk him around and wanted to cry because God this was too much for her to handle. She didn't know how to comfort a baby who didn't know why he couldn't find his mummy and daddy and the only family he'd ever known.
Christmas morning Petunia had made a decision.
"I'm giving him something," she told Vernon while they watched Dudley ripping up wrapping paper and grinning down at his presents.
"What is it?"
"A couple of pictures of his family," she said softly. "To make him stop wondering where they are. It might help."
"Anything to get a decent night's sleep."
So she handed Harry, who Dudley had been steadily burying in paper, his own gift. It was just an old shoe box on the outside, but he looked happy with it. And then she opened it, surprised at how nervous and excited she was at the sight of the smile on his face, and showed him the pictures.
"Look," she said, pointing at Lily and James who were waving at the camera. In the background a devilishly handsome dark-haired young man ran up behind them, flashed a grin, and then took off, hot on the heels of a laughing boy with round features. "It's your mummy and daddy."
Harry's wide eyes (My sister's eyes, Petunia thought) took in the image, awed and sparkling.
"Mummy?" he said softly, pointing at her. She winked up at him and blew a kiss.
"Mm-hmm."
"Daddy too!" he said, smile growing even bigger.
"And look at this one," Petunia said, pulling out another picture.
It was James and Lily again, with the handsome dark-haired boy and another friend of theirs with light-brown hair and wicked amber eyes. Petunia's sister was laughing down at James from the shoulders of the boy with amber eyes and the other two were wrestling, apparently trying to determine who would end up carrying who. Harry pointed to the two strangers and looked up at her with a smile.
"Siri!" he cried, pointing at the dark-haired one. "An' Rem!"
He loved the pictures, going through all of them and giggling. She was suddenly glad that Lily had sent them all these years with letters that Petunia read and hoarded and pretended didn't exist. Vernon and Dudley didn't much appreciate Harry having so much attention, but Petunia didn't care. For the first time in a long time she'd done something she felt good about.
That night after Dudley was asleep, hugging his new stuffed bear to his chest, she checked in on Harry. He was laying on his back with the pictures next to him, probably babbling away to his parents and their friends. She felt a pang somewhere in the heart that James used to insist she didn't have (that had been a memorable conversation that had resulted in much yelling. It had also been one of the few times she'd ever spoken to James and the men Sirius and Remus and Peter). He'd never see them again. Not really. His parents were dead and if Petunia and Vernon had anything to say about it, the boy would have nothing to do with Wizards and magic. But she felt a bit bad about it.
Only a bit, though. Because she'd done her good deed and she felt at peace and after the holiday season had gone away with it's peace and love and warm feeling, she'd go back to hating her sister and she wouldn't care about the boy more than necessary. And she would ignore the fact that eventually the pictures wouldn't be enough, that they would bring no real comfort to the orphan child who was hated for no good reason except that she could and Vernon could and Dudley could.
In the meantime, the baby smiled and laughed and fell asleep with his parents' faces firmly planted in his mind.