Yet Another Snape Meets the Dursleys Story: by rabbit

            Disclaimer: All bow down to Rowling, who owns this stuff.

            Chapter 13: The Night

            Summary: Bedtime…

            ************

            Once he had the Dursley boy in motion, carrying books from the smallest bedroom over to the guest room, Snape collected a pillow and a blanket from the guest room bed and brought them downstairs.  He left them on the hall table and went into the dining room. 

            Petunia looked like she had been trying to work free of the ropes.  There wasn't much of a chance that she could, but he checked them anyway.  Vernon was still sitting, caught mid-blink by the paralysis spell.  Snape wondered for a moment whether the fat lout would be as food obsessed as his son.  Probably.  Snape was hungry himself.   In fact, the smell of the food was making him so hungry he started to shake.

            Rice pudding.  Not a favorite of his.  Still, it would probably stay down.  Snape picked up the serving bowl and a spoon and took them into the kitchen, where he could down the lot without looking like a fool in front of the Dursleys.  As he ate, the shaking eased again, and he felt the faint sizzle of the Endurance potion in his veins.   Hopefully that meant he had more time before it wore off, not less.  Field experimentation was never as reliable.  He wished he had his study notebook, to keep track of the unusual effects. If they proved interesting he could write up a paper for The Caliginous Cauldron…

            A thump from upstairs reminded him that he had yet to dispose of the Dursleys.  The potion wouldn't last forever, and when it did wear off he'd be in worse shape than he'd started.

            Vernon first.  The Paralysis spell wouldn't last past the middle of the night.  He could leave Petunia sitting there if he had to, and the only risk would be if someone looked in and saw her, but Vernon had to be dealt with tonight.  Maybe he'd have the man clean off the dining room table first.  It couldn't be trusted to Dudley.  Snape wondered if the Dursleys had a cold-storage, where he could put the leftover food.  There must be something that served the purpose.  Perhaps not as large as the one in the castle…

            The spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, and Snape discovered it was empty.  Pay attention!

            He went back into the dining room and dispelled the Petrificus Totalus spell on Vernon.  Vernon finished blinking and sat back, putting a hand immediately to his vest pocket.  That was interesting.   Snape cast a cautionary look at the nervous Muggle. 

            "You haven't lost it, have you?" he asked.

            "No," Vernon said, pulling something small out of the pocket.  "Of course not."  He extended his hand, showing Snape the golden gleam of a galleon.

            You've been careless, Potter, Snape thought, automatically reaching out to take the coin from Dursley.  Then he had a happy thought.  "Ah," he said in a plummy, pleased tone.  "The very thing."  The sugar surge of the rice pudding sang in his blood as he concentrated on the coin.

            Then, while Dursley watched, he carefully unwrapped the gold foil and ate the chocolate inside.

            "But!  But!…" Vernon stammered, once he'd managed to close his mouth again.  "It was solid!"

            "Of course it was solid," Snape said, disdainfully.  "The chocolate melts otherwise."  He turned to pick up the chair that he'd knocked over earlier, hoping the move would hide the new fit of shakes.  That was the problem with doing charms or transfigurations without a wand; you had to use far more energy to spin the magic into coherence.  He'd forestalled Vernon from asking about wizard money – and if Harry had any – but if he'd been thinking more clearly he would have done it another way.  He pushed the leftover gold foil into his pocket, wishing the chocolate had tasted better.  At least he'd managed to move most of the gold into the wrapper…

             "Petunia?  Darling?  Why are you tied up?" Vernon asked querulously.

            He had to stop wasting time. 

            "To guarantee your good behavior," Snape said, pulling his wand out now that he was sure he could hold it steady.  He'd have to forget about having Vernon clear the table.  "Come along."

            The suggestibility from the Memory Charm got Vernon moving, but he was getting more alert now.  "Where's Dudley?"

            "Upstairs.  Getting ready for bed.  That way."  He pointed Vernon in the direction of the downstairs lavatory.

            Vernon stopped at the door.  "I don't understand.  We've cooperated.  That's what you asked for.  Why…?"

            Snape raised the wand.  "This is your one opportunity to relieve yourself before morning, I suggest you make use of it."

            Dursley blanched and went into the small room, shutting the door behind him. 

            Snape waited.  He didn't want to use up too much energy casting spells if he could avoid it.  Physically, he felt all right, but he was beginning to lose his ability to concentrate.  Maybe Potter had hit him with a Memory Charm.  No, probably not.

            At last Vernon emerged, and Snape escorted him to the small doorway under the stairs.  "Get in."

            "What?"  Vernon stammered.

            Snape smiled.  "Plenty of room.  You said so yourself.  Get.  In."

            Vernon's eyes bulged unattractively in his overpadded face.  "But… I…"

            Snape raised the wand and Vernon stumbled over the vacuum cleaner in his haste to get down on his hands and knees and crawl into the space under the stairs.  He had to push some boots out, and Snape let him, before tossing in the pillow and blanket he'd brought downstairs and closing the door, sealing it with a spell.

            There was a small ventilation grille set into the door.  Snape opened it.  "You know," he said conversationally, "after your disgusting accusation, I suspected you of molesting the boy yourself.  You said there was enough room, and I wondered how you knew.  But you don't pay him enough attention for that.  You don't pay him any mind at all."

            He slid the grille shut.  Opened it again.  "Still.  There are other kinds of abuse…" he added.  "I suggest that you use your time tonight hoping that I have no cause to suspect them."

            And then he left Vernon in darkness.

******

            When Harry came into the hallway riding some kind of weird wooden insect and asked Dudley to fetch his toothbrush from the upstairs lav, Dudley dropped the books he was carrying on his foot.  "Ow!" he exclaimed.  "Fetch it yourself, Potter!" he said, and then remembered that Snape was downstairs.  "Oh… hell… nevermind.  I'll get it."

            "Thanks, Dudley," Harry said, when Dudley handed him the toothbrush, and Dudley stopped and looked around to see if there were any grownups listening to have made Harry so polite.

            "You're really sick, aren't you?" he said, taking a good look at his cousin.  He'd already seen that Harry was skin and bones earlier, and now Harry had a funny flush that looked wrong on his face.  "I thought… "  He bit his lip, wondering why his stomach felt all funny at the thought of Harry being truly ill.  He couldn't remember a time when Harry hadn't been around.  "Maybe you should go to a doctor."

            "Are you sure you're not sick?" Harry asked, giving Dudley a look of sheer disbelief.

            Dudley shrugged.  "I don't think so.  I don't feel bad.  Just hungry.  And I always feel hungry anymore."  The whole school year he'd had to eat at a special table, so that he couldn't cheat on his diet.  Piers would help him sneak sweets sometimes, but he couldn't remember the last time a grownup had let him eat all he wanted.  Not even Mummy.  He shrugged again, remembering something.  "Mummy's tied up downstairs.  Was she bad?  Or did I do something to make him mad?  I can't remember."

            "She started telling Snape, Professor Snape I mean, off.  He didn't like it," Harry said.  "It wasn't you, Dudley.  What are you supposed to be doing now?"

            "Moving books."  Dudley bent down awkwardly to pick up the books he'd dropped.  He hated dropping things and having to pick them up again, but it wasn't as hard as it had been last year.  As he stood up, his stomach growled.  "Are you hungry, Harry?  Maybe he'll give us both more food if you want some."

            Harry shook his head.  "Sorry.  I don't want to risk asking.  Snape's not the most patient man even when he's not tired."

            Dudley sighed and put the books into the guest bedroom and then went back for another armful while Harry vanished back into his parents room.

            He was moving the last armload of books when he heard a thump in the master bedroom.  Curious, he went to see what had made the noise and found Harry sitting on the floor by a small bed that was pushed against the wall while his owl perched on the dresser and made worried noises and the chair-insect nudged at him.  Harry's glasses were on the floor.

            "What happened?" Dudley asked. 

            "Nothing," Harry grumbled.  He found his glasses and put them on, and then looked at the bed beside him and sighed before starting to pick himself up.  The chair folded itself down and got underneath him, lifting him up to the height of the bed and tipping him into it before settling back to a proper chair shape beside the bed. 

            Dudley closed his mouth, and then came over to poke at the chair with one finger.  It moved out of the way and he backed off hastily.  "Do chairs do that all the time at your school?"

            "No," Harry said, trying to pull the covers down on the bed without knocking himself off of it again.  "Or I'd be better at using it.  Give us a hand, Dudley, would you?"

            Dudley thought about it for a moment.  Snape wasn't there to make him help Harry, but neither was Mum or Dad to look funny at him if he did.   He decided that he might as well get his cousin into the bed right.   "Are you going to sleep in here?" he asked.  "What about Mummy and Daddy?  And what happened to the bed?"

            "I don't know about Uncle Vernon," Harry said, letting Dudley pull the covers over him with a shaky sigh.  "Aunt Petunia's going to sleep in my room.  Professor Snape split the bed in half."

            "I didn't think he was a pervert," Dudley said, looking over at the other bed by the window and wondering if he was going to have to sleep in here with Harry.  "Perverts try to act nice."

            Harry stared at him.  "Perverts?" he exclaimed.  "What would you know about perverts?"

            Dudley flushed and bit his lip.  "Nothing," he said, wishing he'd had the sense not to mention it.  He went over to the dressing table and put his mother's brush and mirror back into the places where they belonged. He was too fat himself to have caught the attention of the History tutor at school, but he'd heard enough to know that the stories were true.  Piers had only managed to get away by pretending he'd seen the Headmaster coming once.  "Daddy thought he might be one," he said, so that Harry would talk about Snape instead.  "Is he your Maths teacher?"

            Harry shook his head, still looking at Dudley with narrowed eyes.  "Potions," he said.  "It's kind of like… oh, chemistry."

            Dudley had wondered for years about Harry's school and now he finally had a chance to ask.  "What kind of things do you have to learn?"

            "Potions, Transfigurations – that's changing one thing into another.  Charms – that's spells like… oh, the one that makes the chair move, or making things levitate.  Divinations.   That's fortune telling.  But it doesn't work very well."  Harry kept looking at Dudley like his face was dirty or something. 

            "Do you have to play games?"  Dudley asked.

            Harry's face lit up.  "I play Quidditch.  It's the best game in the world."

            "What's…Quit Itch? Is it a computer game?"  Dudley liked computer games.  He couldn't imagine a field game that was better than any of them.  Whatever the game was, it made Harry happy to talk about it.

            "You play it on brooms.  It's a little like basketball, but you're flying.  There are three different kinds of balls, you see.  One you score with, two that try to hit you off your broom and the golden snitch, that's worth extra points.  The Seekers catch the Snitch to end the game.  I'm a Seeker on my house team."  Harry's expression darkened suddenly.  "Cedric was a Seeker, too."

            "I hate to interrupt this," said a dry voice from the doorway and both Harry and Dudley jumped.  It was Snape.  Dudley backed away from Harry, hoping that the man would see that he hadn't done his cousin any harm.  Snape went over and checked, but he seemed satisfied.  "I need the chair, Mr. Potter.  Are you finished with it for the moment?"

            "Yes, sir."  Harry submitted to having his forehead checked yet again.  Dudley couldn't understand why Snape never used a thermometer.

            "The fever's still climbing," he said, with certainty. "But it should peak soon.  Try to sleep, if you can."

            "What about Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked.

            "He's all right," Snape said, taking out his wand.  "Sleep now.  Duermos."

            Harry's eyes closed at once, and he curled to one side, shivering.  Snape waved the wand again, over the blankets, and said "Thermos," the way he'd done for Dudley's soup, and Harry sighed and stopped shivering. His breathing went as steady as if he'd been sleeping for hours.

Snape turned to Dudley.  "If I locked you in your room, for the night, what would you do?"

Dudley thought about it.  "I dunno.  Get on the internet.  Play some games.  Chat with my friends.  You know, ordinary things."

Snape considered the answer, nodding as if he'd made a decision.  "Go and fetch a bucket of earth and a trowel from the garden.  And bring up the bird tray while you're at it," he told Dudley, and then turned his gaze on the chair.  "And you… come along…"