Reserve League, Season 8, Round 1, Captain: weakness

Word Count: 980


She wakes to screaming. It's faint, but Petunia is a mother, and it's Dudley's voice, so of course she is out of bed in an instant. Vernon is snoring, undisturbed, unaware. Maybe she envies him for it.

She doesn't dwell on it for long; she hurries from the room, into the hallway, and through Dudley's door. Her son is tangled in the sheets. The milky moonlight illuminates the beads of sweat on his forehead. He sits up, gasping for breath. "Mummy!"

Mummy. Not Mum. She can't remember the last time he's called her that. He's been too busy growing up and being too big and strong to be vulnerable.

"I'm here, Dudders," she soothes, moving closer and brushing her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "It was a nightmare. Just a bad dream."

"They were here. The… The Dementors found us," he whispers, shuddering.

He hasn't been the same since the attack. Sometimes Petunia can still see a hollow, haunted look in his eyes. She wonders if he will ever overcome it.

Her heart breaks, shattering painfully. As a mother, her job is to keep him safe? How can she? Their time in hiding has made her realize exactly how weak she is, how helpless she will be if anything ever happens. Hestia and Dedalus have done more to defend and protect her son than she has.

"Mummy?"

"It's okay, darling," she tells him, guiding him back to his pillow. She presses a kiss to his forehead. "Close your eyes."

"I'm scared."

She is weak. She is useless. Why is she here, but Lily isn't? Her sister had always been strong. Lily would know what to do and say now.

"Go to sleep, my darling," she whispers. "It was just a dream. Just a nasty nightmare."

Dudley blinks slowly. His eyes close. After several moments, his snores feel the tiny room, and he is lost to the world of sleep once again. Petunia relaxes, but just barely. Tears cling to her lashes.

What is she doing here? If anything happens, what can she do to keep her precious boy safe?

She needs a cigarette.

Vernon doesn't know about her habit. He wouldn't approve anyway. Dedalus keeps her secret; he is kind enough to bring her a pack whenever she starts to run low.

Petunia leans against a tree on the edge of the boundary. No one can see her from the house. It has become her little hiding place, the perfect place to escape to whenever she needs to get away and remember how to breathe.

The lighter's flame bursts forward, illuminating the darkness with a brief warm glow. She lights the cigarette and inhales.

"Bad habit." Hestia stops in front of her, smiling. "Are you okay?"

"No." Petunia wants to leave it at that. Hestia barely knows her. She doesn't care that Petunia is losing her mind, that she is on the verge of breaking down at any moment. "I'm weak."

It feels good to say it aloud. She has to play a part and pretend that everything is okay. Vernon needs to believe that she is still the perfect housewife he married. Dudley needs to believe that she can keep him safe.

But she isn't so sure anymore. The nagging doubt is there, and it is suffocating.

"You don't have anything to prove," Hestia says kindly. "You don't have to be strong all the time, Petunia."

She scoffs, taking another drag of the cigarette. The tobacco crackles as it burns, the sound strangely calming. "I don't feel strong at all."

"You are. Maybe you don't see it, but I do. I know you don't like magic, but you've put your own biases aside so that you can help protect your family. Could a weak person do that?"

It doesn't feel significant, or like she's done anything that counts as strong. Still, she doesn't want to argue. If Hestia wants to see something that isn't there, it isn't Petunia's place to correct her.

"You're holding your family together, even if you're just as scared. That's pretty damn brave," Hestia tells her. "If you'll excuse me, I have to finish my patrol."

When Hestia leaves, Petunia finds herself smiling. She still doesn' believe it. Not really. Maybe she will never see it for herself.

But maybe, just maybe, she is stronger than she realizes.

Dudley is the first one in the kitchen the next morning, after Petunia. He's smiling, but he still looks so tired. Dark circles line his eyes, making him look older than he is. Petunia wonders if this will permanently scar him, if there's no hope for him to become the joyful boy he had once been, still so innocent and carefree.

"I haven't started breakfast yet, darling," she tells him. "Why don't you go rest a bit while I cook?"

Dudley shakes his head. "I wanted to help, Mum," he says. "You do so much. It's the least I can do."

She can't remember a time he's ever helped with anything domestic. Her heart melts. "You don't have to."

"No," Dudley agrees, shrugging his shoulder, "but I want to."

You're holding your family together.

Maybe she is. Maybe they would fall apart without her guidance. It doesn't feel like bravery or strength. She isn't doing anything grand like protecting her family and fighting to keep them safe in these dark, chaotic times.

Maybe she isn't as weak as she thinks, and this is her own sort of strength.

"You can start by cracking the eggs," she says.

She isn't sure that she can keep her family safe, but maybe she can keep them okay. If she wears a smile and plays her part, things will fall into place. They will feel safe, like maybe things are normal.

If that's all she can do, she will take it. They will play house, and Petunia will pretend.