Title: Nightmares of a Hero, Tears of the Foe
Author: Shinigami Liliz Black
Status: UNBETAED
Notes: Petunia is a bit OOC. I don't know if Harry is. I'm not good writing NC-17 scenes, my first shot. You have to keep in mind, I write two versions, R and NC-17 and some words have to be edited. I know Harry is sixteen and is still treated like a twelve year old, but this is a story created by random ideas!
Chapter Two: The Truth of an Evan
Petunia arrived home to find Vernon gone; and a note explaining that he was checking something important. She entered the kitchen and noticed the dishes just as they were when she left hours ago.
She was about to call Harry when the sound of someone vomiting reached her ears.
"Not again."
Dudley was too busy downstairs surfing the 'net to see her mother climb the stairs. She cornered her nephew in his room and crossed her arms.
"Really, what's happening to you?" she asked, irritated. "You haven't eaten, nor have you done your chores!" Harry looked up at her with watering, wounded green eyes.
Petunia was taken by surprise. "Are you sick Harry?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders and sat at the corner of his bed, looking out the window. Petunia bit her lips and decided to leave her nephew alone. Just for today, she would do the chores.
At midnight, Vernon swung his legs out of bed, his eyes flashing red as a cold heartless smirk appeared on his lips. He was about to open the nephew's door when a voice broke the silence.
"Where are you going?" Petunia asked, standing in the doorframe of their room.
"Bathroom," Vernon whispered hastily his eyes returning to normal and slammed the bathroom door.
Petunia looked at his nephew's door and raised an eyebrow. Did Vernon just try to sneak into Harry's room?
Petunia waited for Vernon to drift of to sleep, and slipped inside the brunette's room. Inside, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and noticed the boy curled in the bed. Petunia touched his shoulder as she sat down at the edge of the bed making Harry jump in fear.
"Shh! It's me," Petunia whispered. "Tell me Harry, are you sick?"
"Why do you care?" he murmured.
"I may have despised my sister but that doesn't mean that I'm heartless." Harry half snorted and turned to look at his aunt. "I used to hate her because she got all the attention."
"I'm just having problems with my stomach." Petunia looked at his green eyes, remembering her sister's.
"I was wondering Harry," she began, making Harry raise an eyebrow, "Do you know what 'Squib' means?"
"It's someone with magical blood but can't perform any magic, is like a Muggle around a wizard family, though Squib can carry on magical genes. Why?"
"Nothing, just curious," she whispered. Harry flopped down on his stomach. Petunia sat there, looking at her nephew.
So she was a Squib? Someone with magical blood but no way of performing magic? Petunia sighed as she caressed Harry's black hair, as his breath came in peaceful sleeping gusts.
After all she done to her sister, she was someone like Lily, a witch, but magic-less? She was snapped out of her thoughts by a soft tap at the window. She opened the window and a white snowy owl came swooping in to land on the empty cage.
Petunia clucked and approached the snowy owl, stroking the white feathers; the owl seemed to purr at her touch. 'Too bad I couldn't be a true witch. Everything would have been different.'
The next morning, Harry woke, feeling the sun burning down on his bare back. He stirred and yawned, fumbling to pick up his glasses. The room swirled into focus and he saw a towel on his desk.
Sighing, he stood up and suddenly winced as the sore ass and swollen chest. Approaching the towel, he noticed a notes saying.
Take a bath; It'll make you feel better.
He raised an eyebrow at the letter. Did his aunt write this? Either way, Harry relaxed as he picked up the towel and some clothes and headed towards the bathroom. He turned on the bathtub tap and let the warm water wash his sore muscles and scratches. He washed off the blood and felt his shoulders relax.
Petunia looked at her nephew, walking downs stairs towards the kitchen. He was clad in long dark blue jeans, a tight black T-shirt spelling Prongs and the white shadow of a stag with black Converse shoes. His hair was wet and messier than ever and his green eyes moved watchfully, as if looking for someone.
"Don't worry boy, it's just you, me and Dudley. Vernon is working today." Harry relaxed and was about to take a frying pan from the cupboard when Petunia stopped him.
"I made breakfast." Harry blinked at her. "Just clean the living room after eating and be careful."
Harry shrugged his shoulders and retrieved the broom from the cupboard; leaving Petunia confused.
On five o' clock that evening, Harry finished cleaning the dinning room. He had skipped breakfast and lunch, after feeling his stomach flitting at the sight of food. He felt two piercing eyes looking at his back.
He looked up to find Petunia glaring down at him. She snatched the cloth from his hand. "Eat! You skipped breakfast and lunch."
"I'm not hungry," he replied.
"At least try to eat some fruit. If you don't eat you won't get better," Petunia said, handing an apple to Harry.
Minutes later she sighed as Harry threw up and settled on making him drink water. Vernon arrived looking tired, and Harry closed himself in his room. After eating a decent meal she decided to make some apple pie for desert, when an owl tapped on the window.
She did not scream. Instead, she felt the owl was a beautiful sight. It was all black with white strips on his wings and white feathers on his face. The owl seemed to glare at her and extended its claw.
She took the letter from the owl, just like her sister had once done when an owl arrived. In the letter were two simple words:
Warning! Tonight.
She looked at the confusing words. There was no signature; nothing, just two words. The owl nipped her fingers making her jump. Crumbling some vanilla cookies, she gave them to the owl; satisfied, the bird took off.
"Petunia, where is my desert?" Hastily, she hid the letter in her pocket and picked up the plates.
"Coming!" 'Now I know how Harry feels.'
Harry woke up with a start, feeling his scar prickle. He shook off the covers his hand reaching under his pillow retrieving his wand. Another prickling sensation stung on his scar, forcing him to his feet and cautiously reaching over to turn the knob. As he did so the light outside illuminating the street diminished, casting dark shadows around the room. He stopped outside his room, listening carefully for any husk voice through the silence.
It was faint but he heard a door creaked, and two voices hissed. He stepped back further into the shadows his wand grasped firmily, ready to attack. The atmosphere became cold as his breath was held for a long period of time. When the sounds had died down and everything was complete silence, Harry slipped down the steps his eyes frantically focusing around the darkness.
He felt a sharp, hot wind behind his back and he froze, his hand grasping the wand so tight, showing the white knuckled. He slowly turned, his eyes landing on a dark figure towering behind, a blank white mask covering his face.
"Hello Potter."
TBC…
Notes: Bit of a cliff-hanger! Forgive me, I know I over did it! Does Petunia have a soft spot for Harry? Review!
