Yet Another Snape Meets the Dursleys Story: by rabbit
Disclaimer: Still belongs to Rowling.
Chapter 8: The Cleaning
Summary: Cleaning up goes so much faster if everyone is doing their share.
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Vernon escaped down the stairs, cheeks still flaming. He hadn't been dressed down so viciously since old Grunnings had retired. And Grunnings had never had bored into him with eyes so strange. But Grunnings had been just as frighteningly able to switch from anger to contempt.
"What filthy ideas you Muggles have," He could still hear Snape's cold growl. "Even if I were twisted enough to consider the possibility, I have responsibilities. What you suggest would be a betrayal of trust nearly as foul as leaving a five year old child to sleep in a boot cupboard -- or was he younger?"
"…." Vernon had felt the blood go to his feet. How could Snape have known about Harry's cupboard?
"Answer me!" Snape had hissed, and Vernon found himself answering in spite of knowing that the truth was the wrong answer.
"He was three! It was plenty of room then!" He'd crawled in himself with a hammer, to bend down the nails that stuck down from the stairs. Harry's cot fit beautifully, really it had. And Harry had cried every night for a month when he was locked in. Vernon's conscience reminded him now.
"I see." Snape had cocked his head, studying Vernon like a lizard watching a grasshopper, growing colder and more remote all the while. Vernon shuddered thinking of it. And then Snape had released him, as if he were something disgusting. "Fetch the trunk," he'd ordered dismissively, and Vernon had been grateful for the chance to get away.
He heard Petunia clattering pans angrily in the kitchen and he was glad that she wasn't in the hallway to witness his clumsiness in collecting the trunk. He didn't want to go upstairs and face Snape again, truly he didn't. Not with his conscience pointing out how quickly he and Petunia had been to move Harry upstairs when that first letter addressed to his cupboard had arrived. He'd known all along that it wasn't just a matter of being practical, wanting to keep the extra room for Dudley's play area. Even at three Harry had been uncanny sometimes – seeing things that shouldn't be. They'd had to at least try to train him out of it! He'd have been shirking his duty to let the boy grow up into a freak! It was a matter of discipline, he told himself. It wasn't abuse.
But he wasn't going to try to explain that to Snape.
He finally got a decent grip on the heavy trunk and started carrying it upstairs. When he got high enough to look into the hallway he paused to watch as Dudley came out of the bathroom and went to the linen closet to collect towels. He could hear water running in the tub. Snape was standing in the hall near the guest room door, waving his wand. As Vernon watched, Harry came floating out of the bedroom, wrapped in one of the blankets.
"Really, Professor," Harry said. "I think I could manage."
"Don't argue with me, Potter," Snape said. "I've put too much work into you to let you drown in the bath."
"But, Dudley…" Harry said, his cheeks pink.
"Your cousin owes you something more concrete than a mere apology," Snape said, looking along to Dudley. "Isn't that so, Mr. Dursley?"
Dudley blushed and nodded frantically. "Yes, sir." He looked at Harry uncertainly, though, and Vernon wondered what on earth Snape wanted him to do. "Don't worry, Harry. He's done something weird to the tub. It's not like I'm going to have to hold your head out of the water or anything. Just … hand you the shampoo, or fetch towels or things like that."
"You'll do," said Snape severely, "whatever young Potter requires you to do. And gently." He steered both boys into the bathroom, where Vernon couldn't see them anymore, but he could hear water splashing, and an odd clanging noise that he didn't recognize.
He reestablished his grip on the trunk and went on upstairs. As his foot reached the hallway, Snape appeared and propped himself like a guardian against the bathroom doorjamb, facing toward the stairs. Vernon felt his shoulders shrink in on themselves, and he didn't ask any questions, but moved quickly to put the trunk into the guest room. Every time he saw Snape, he had a feeling that the man was re-evaluating Vernon's place on the evolutionary scale. Lower.
He went back out to the car to fetch the mice and the bird's things. The bedding took a trip all by itself, and he felt Snape glaring at him from the bathroom doorway the whole time as he put it into Harry's room and started back down for the rest of it. From the bathroom he could hear the boys' voices.
"Hey! Try not to get the shampoo in my eyes, Dudley!"
"Sorry! Sorry! It's just I've never done this before."
"It's all right… just give me a towel…"
As Vernon was coming in with the cage of mice in one hand and the owl perch in the other, Petunia opened the door of the kitchen. "Ask him if he wants me to set the table for all of us down here, to eat like civilized people, or not."
"Yes, dearest," Vernon said. He talked himself into approaching Snape all the way up the stairs, reminding himself to keep his chin up as he passed along Petunia's question. And then he almost forgot it when he saw Harry's owl perching on the hall table with a small gray owl sitting beside it. Both birds mantled and hissed, watching the mice cage eagerly as Vernon edged past them to talk to Snape.
"What is it?" Snape asked, when Vernon didn't say anything.
"Er… Petunia… my wife… uhm… Did you want us all to eat downstairs like civilized people, then?"
Snape considered it for a moment, and Vernon took the chance to glance into the bathroom past him. He had altered the porcelain fixture, blast him, turning it into a kind of a sitting bath, with a lid to keep the heat inside like something from an earlier century. Harry was up to his neck in it. And Dudley was at the other end, adjusting the taps. He looked to be all right, if damp. That was something. Dudley was all right.
"Dinner downstairs will be fine. In the interim, disassemble the bird cage, sanitize the litter tray at one of the downstairs sinks, and bring it back so that you can set up the perch properly."
"But …" Vernon stammered, looking at the birds, who were eying him still intently. "…the perch… I mean, the one the pet store man gave me… it won't fit in the cage…not with the bird on top of it."
Snape made a noise in his throat. "That cage is only fit for use when travelling. It's much too small for a snowy owl on an every day basis. The perch will do by itself."
"But… but… It will… They will leave droppings! All over!" Petunia would never stand for it!
"These are wizards' birds," Snape said with amused patience. "They are housebroken. If they leave…traces…outside their litter trays it is either because they are sick, or making comments."
The smaller owl meeped cheerfully, raised its tail, and sent a streak of white down the leg of the table. And Harry's owl opened its beak like it was laughing at Vernon's shock.
"I'd hurry if I were you," Snape said. "They don't like to use dirty litter trays." He took the cage of mice from Vernon's numb fingers, and waved him off to do the cleaning. The owls' attention immediately went from Vernon to Snape. Vernon started towards Harry's room, wondering how he'd get the bird mess cleaned up before Petunia saw it. Behind him he could hear Snape opening the mice cage. "Hungry are you?" he said to the birds and Vernon groaned to himself.
Not on the hallway carpet! he thought, ducking into Harry's room to avoid the swoop of the owls as they dived after the mice that Snape had released. He caught a sickening glimpse of the smaller one plunging its claws into a mouse a third its size and looked back to see how Snape was taking the carnage.
He looked pleased.
Vernon hurried. The sooner he could get Snape appeased and out of his house, the better!