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"You can't do anything about the length of your life, but you can do something about its width and depth."
Evan Esar (1899 – 1995)
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December 17th…
Holding on to his son, Harry stomped upstairs, ignoring his girlfriend's look of worry. He noticed the stair he had broken earlier in the year, was now fixed. Noticing the little thing, he gave a soft smile, kissing the top of James' head. He walked the rest of the way, not expecting Dudley up there with Vernon.
They were whispering in hushed tones, and Harry was tempted to listen into their tête-à-tête, but refrained from it. Hermione, as always, was right. They were walking on eggshells, and angering Vernon—or Dudley, for that matter—could deprive Harry and his family of shelter.
He saw Dudley pier over his father's large shoulder and see the bundle of blankets Harry was carrying. Dudley smirked at him, seeing James' head. He stood up and started walking towards him, his smirk (which was quickly turning into a grin) still intact.
Harry was very tempted to simply ignore the large boy and enter his bedroom, away from his dreadful relatives. However, Dudley had already made his way towards Harry and held his arms out. Upon instinct, Harry held his son closer, glaring at the larger boy. He frowned, going to his full height and slightly puffing out his chest. (Although Harry and Dudley were the same height—one hundred sixty seven centimetres—five six—he was still at least ten kilograms heaver than Harry's fifty kilogram weight.)
"Fine," he muttered, glaring daggers at Harry. "If you want to be stingy about your children, be that way. I don't care. I'm only their Uncle, after all."
Harry shook his head fervently, one of his hands going to the doorknob on his bedroom door. "No, Dudley. See, that's where you're wrong. You might be my cousin, but to my children, you'll never be their Uncle."
He opened the door and, without waiting for Dudley's retort, stormed inside. There was nothing different about the place, save the thick layer of dust over everything. He noticed that his bed was still untouched, and everything else was left open and empty. Giving a sigh, Harry welcomed his temporary home. At least it's better than the cupboard, he thought, somewhat happily.
Sitting on the dusty bed, Harry thought about cleaning the room up a little. But, how would he clean it? Shrugging, he sat on the bed, finally taking a look at his son. His eyes were wide open, and he gazed at Harry with a wide toothless smile, his hands waving around frantically. He smiled lovingly at him before running his fingers through James' hair. It was quiet obvious that his hair was passed down from his father, not only from the colour and texture (which, he noted, was really soft), but also by the disorderliness.
"What are we going to do, little guy?" he asked, absently playing with his son. James giggled and wrapped his fingers around Harry's index one, bringing to his mouth. Understanding what he wanted, Harry brought James to his chest. Standing up, he went to open the door, but someone already beat him to it.
Hermione and Aunt Petunia came into the room, both holding something. Hermione was holding Lily and the baby bag, making a move to sit on the bed. His Aunt Petunia was holding a tray of food, giving them both soft smiles.
Hermione sat on the bed, ignoring the dust, and lifted her shirt up. Lily instantly latched onto her breast, sucking hungrily, having been deprived of food for hours. "Harry," she said quietly, "can you give me James? I bet he's very hungry."
He nodded and gave Hermione James. He was used to seeing her feed the children, and so when he saw her now, he simply gave her a kiss (the potion hadn't completely worn out, so he lingered for a bit longer) and turned back to Aunt Petunia.
"I've made a hot lunch," she informed them quietly, placing the tray of food onto the studying desk. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to tell me, alright?"
Hermione nodded, "Alright."
"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, taking the shrunken trunks from his jean trousers. "Can you un-shrink these?" he asked. "We're not old enough to do magic, and I can't do anything until I figure out a spell to take the tracking charm off."
She nodded, taking out her wand from her apron. Harry put the trunks on the floor, and he saw his Aunt mutter a spell, and the trunks sprang back to original size. Giving her a true smile, he said, "Thank you."
She nodded, casting a mild heating spell on the food. "No problem." She looked around the room, giving an odd look as she did so. She sighed, remembering that she hadn't cleaned Harry's room since… ever. Pointing her wand at the room, she muttered a simple cleaning spell and the room righted itself. Dust instantly disappearing, the cracked window righting it, and the old cobwebs from years vanishing. She gave a self-satisfied smile, knowing that the room was as clean as it would ever be.
"Thanks," Hermione said, laying James onto the old bed. Next, she put Lily on the other side of her, giving them each a kiss on the forehead as they dozed off into sleep.
Nodding, Petunia left, leaving Harry to unpack while Hermione adjusted herself. He opened the trunk and looked around the room. The walls were bare, the desk untouched, and his wardrobe was empty. Knowing that this was going to be his—their, he mentally corrected himself—shelter for the next few weeks, he debated whether or not he should take the stuff out. He didn't care too much, so he simply haphazardly threw some of his trousers into there, his shirts soon joining them.
Hermione rolled her eyes, putting a pillow around James and Lily for safety, and got up. She sat on the chair and started on her lunch, blissfully ignoring her boyfriend's unpacking.
Once Harry was finished unpacking (or, as Hermione liked to think of it, throwing), he sat on the floor with a plate full of his lunch. They ate in silence, often simply gazing at the wall or one of their children.
Finally, after a few minutes, Hermione broke the silence. "What happened in Dumbledore's office?" she asked quietly, picking up a chip and munching on it.
He hadn't expected that question, and so when she did, he nearly choked on his chicken. "Why do you ask that?"
She merely shrugged, finishing her chips off and now moving on to her chicken. "I was simply wondering."
He nodded feebly, silently chewing on the chicken. He didn't know whether or not to tell her. Part of him wanted to, but the other didn't. He didn't want her to know, mainly because he wanted to forget it himself, but another part of him wanted to let her know, so she'd know just what happened.
Finally, in the end, he decided to let her know. "I… At first, he seemed very… odd. I hadn't paid too much attention to it, but he was acting strangely." He paused to look at her, and he saw she was paying full attention. "It was almost as if he knew he was going to die," he said softly, staring at James' small figure. "He started saying that he was jealous, about how I wasn't able to handle it and—" he broke off, shaking his head fervently. "And then… then he said that he knew all along, that it took him a while, but he caught on. That I was furious with him, that I had the urge to hurt—even kill—him." The next words were but a mere whisper: "And then he killed himself. Just like that, without batting an eyelash." He chuckled humourlessly, "But before he did so, he showed me a potion, one where if he drank it, it would disintegrate his form." He closed his eyes, "And he died… Nothing, expect a stupid letter, saying how he 'went away,' or something like that."
Once he finished, he saw that Hermione had tears in her eyes, begging to fall. He tore his eyes from her, ashamed for himself. Why did I do that? Why did I tell her? Why couldn't I have just kept my anger in check? Why? he questioned himself silently, standing up and looking out the window.
She stood up and went next to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Oh Harry… that was horrible," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist. Following her steps, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
There was a knock on the door, followed by a loud, "Potter! Come out here, now!"
Rolling his eyes, Harry extricated himself of his place in Hermione's arms. He shouted at the door, "Alright, Uncle Vernon! You can move yourself from the door, now!" Once he heard the grunt of his Uncle, Harry grinned and walked out of the door.
Once he was outside, he heard Dudley's sneer of, "Have a nice shag?" and Vernon's glare upon him. Muttering a few foul words to his large cousin, he walked over to him.
"You'll be coming to dinner with us," Vernon said, his voice showing obvious distaste. "Petunia said that a few of the neighbours have seen you four entering the house, so if they see us going to dinner without you, they'll be suspicious."
Nodding doubtfully, Harry said, "Alright. But how are we going to fit everyone in? Just my family takes the whole car, so we have no room for anyone else."
Vernon's face turned into an evil smirk. "That's where your scrawniness comes in handy, Potter." At Harry's raised eyebrow in confusion, Vernon proceeded to explain. "Your girlfriend, Dudley, and Petunia will be sitting in the backseat of the car, while Marge and I will be sitting in the front. Since you are so skinny, you'll be sitting on the floor." He smiled as he saw Harry's horrified look.
"You have got to be raging bloody mad!" he exclaimed. "I am not going to let my children into a car without the proper safety! I will not risk my children's lives!" He crossed his arms over himself. "There is no way you're getting us in there."
Vernon rolled his eyes. "You're going, and that's that." His voice was final, and that was the end of their conversation. Turning around, smiling triumphantly, he went and descended the stairs.
Fuming, he stormed into the bedroom and gave a low growl of anger. Hermione jumped, knocking the pillow on to Lily's face in the process. She started crying, and so Hermione picked her up, patting her back and murmuring to her before her cries got loud enough for James.
"What happened?" she asked.
He shook his head, running a hand through his unruly hair. Walking by the trunk, he started rummaging through it for a spare piece of parchment, ink, and a quill. Finding only parchment, Harry settled it on the desk and looked around for a spare pen in the desk. Finding one, he started writing a letter to Sirius.
After a few minutes, he reread the letter.
Snuffles,
Dumbledore is dead. I'm sure it'll be in the Prophet tomorrow, but I needed to let you know. I know what you're thinking: that I killed him. But, I didn't. He killed himself, knowing that I couldn't "handle" it. (There's another thing he thinks I couldn't handle.)
I'm sure that the Ministry will be in on this in a few days, questioning me. (I'll be the first person everyone suspects, I reckon. I am Harry Potter, after all.)
Right now we're—me, Hermione, and the kids—are at my Uncle's. We're going to stay here for about a week, and then I guess we'll go to yours. (I sort of want to pay a visit to the Granger's, but I'm not too sure Hermione would like that.)
Well, that's about it… Owl me back,
Harry
Seemingly satisfied with the letter, Harry called out, "Hedwig!"
"She's not here, Harry," Hermione said automatically, softly running her hand up and down Lily's stomach. "I think she's still at Hogwarts."
He sighed, laying the letter onto the desk. "I thought she'd be here already."
"I did too," said Hermione. "But, apparently we've been proved wrong."
Changing the subject, Harry stated, "Uncle Vernon said we've got to go to dinner with him."
Blinking at the sudden topic change, Hermione said, "Oh… really? And why is that?"
"Because he just wants to throw me off my rocker," Harry muttered.
Hermione chose not to comment on that.
"I told him that we're not going. Well, that the babies aren't going, at least. And we can't leave them home alone, so that means I won't be going. And I doubt you'd want to go there by yourself." He kept on going, pacing around the room, but Hermione wasn't paying attention.
A few soft raps were sounded from the other side of the door. "Harry?" sounded the voice of Petunia. "Can I come in?"
Harry nodded, but then remembered that he couldn't hear him nod. "Yeah," he said, lying down on the bed and pulling James to his chest.
She came in, moving the trunk away before standing in front of Harry and Hermione. "Vernon told me that you won't be going to dinner."
Harry nodded, absently running his hand up and down his son's small back. "Yeah, and we won't be. There won't be any car seats for the twins, and that makes it dangerous whilst on the road. And I am not going to endanger their lives for the sake of food."
"He's got a point, Missus Dursley," Hermione commented, glancing her way.
She gave a soft sigh. "I knew it'd end up like this," she murmured. "I told Vernon to buy the new car, but he just wouldn't listen to me." She stood up, "Alright, if that is your final decision. I'll make something for you before we leave. How does grilled aubergine and a jacket potato sound?"
"Scrummy," said Hermione, closing her eyes and lying back onto the pillow.
"I'll bring it up in a few hours, then," she said and walked out of the door.
Hermione nodded, knowing that no one was paying attention. Craning her head slightly, she saw that Harry was already asleep, his grip strong on James. Closing her eyes, she too let herself drift into sleep.
0—0—0—0
Marge walked into the Lounge and sat next to Dudley, who was watching the telly. There was some comedic show on, but Marge paid no attention. She was lost in thought.
She knew that there was something odd about Petunia, but she didn't know what. Her 'freak' of a sister was gone, and so she wasn't too sure if she had rubbed off on her. Perhaps she did, she wasn't too sure she wanted to know. And then today, when the brats had arrived, she'd treated them as if they were family, instead of worthless scum. She wondered why so.
She heard talking in the kitchen, and so she decided to snoop. Walking towards it, she instantly found out that Vernon and Petunia were arguing.
"Take pity upon the children!" she heard her say.
Vernon grunted (or so she assumed it was him). "Why should I take pity upon two parents who are barley teenagers?"
She heard a loud sigh. "Because they are barely teenagers, Vernon! They aren't even old enough in the Mug—normal world! They can't even do anything! And, Vernon, look at it from their point of view. They're two lost parents who have nowhere to go. They have no choice but to go to his Uncle's home!"
What's a Mug world? Marge absently wondered, still listening in on the argument.
He grunted again, and said, "Petunia, I have taken enough pity upon Potter for thirteen years. You don't need to cook for three extra people—four, now that Marge is here."
"But it doesn't—" she started, but he interrupted.
"Yes it does, Petunia! Don't you see? I bet he killed someone from that freak magical school of his! I bet he did something, and so now he's running away from the authorities."
Marge could practically hear his sneer.
"I am not going to take mercy on him and his family. I don't care if he has children—they're probably… magical," he said with distaste, "just as he and his witch of a girlfriend are!"
Marge screamed, her instinct consuming her. Potter was magical? His girlfriend was a witch? They could do magic?
Petunia and Vernon, both instantly forgetting their heated quarrel, rushed from the kitchen to see Marge lying on the floor, unconscious.
0—0—0—0
Harry awoke to the sound of screaming, and he instantly sat up (holding his son close to his chest) and brandished his wand. Seeing that there was no one in front of him—although he did hear a rather loud thud from the bottom floor—Harry stood up and started shaking Hermione's shoulder gently.
"Hermione," he said, "wake up. Something's going on downstairs."
Mumbling nonsense, Hermione groggily got up. "What happened?" she asked, yawning.
"Pick up Lily and meet me downstairs," commanded Harry before leaving the room, leaving a confused Hermione behind.
Harry ran downstairs, holding James securely and nearly tripped when he saw the still form of Marge, her family members surrounding her. She looked a bit pale, and her mouth was opened into an 'o.'
Petunia was getting a wet washcloth, dabbing her forehead with it. Vernon stood there, wondering what to do. And Dudley was in the Lounge. In a matter of moments, Hermione and Lily were by his side.
"What happened?" asked Hermione, looking at her form.
"She screamed and then passe—" started Petunia, but was cut off by the shrill voice of Marge.
"You two!" she shrieked, pointing a finger at Harry and Hermione. "You two are… are freaks! Abnormal, magical freaks, the lot of you!!" she cried, struggling to stand up.
Harry and Hermione stood there, their faces lost in confusion. How had she figured it out? They hadn't done any magic, so there was no possible way that she could figure it out. By this time, the twins had started their own cries, their t-shirts quickly soaking. Harry quickly started patting James' back, rocking the small infant close to his chest, swaying him side to side, hoping he'd calm down. Hermione followed his actions, but Lily's cries hadn't subsided.
"Keep it down, you brats!" shouted Dudley from the Lounge, angry that he couldn't hear his favourite show anymore. "Some of us are trying to watch the telly!"
You're the only one, Harry thought angrily, still trying to soothe his son. After a few minutes, James and Lily had finally quieted down, and were now dozing off.
"You lot—witches and warlocks, or whatever—are abnormal," said Marge, her voice quieter, deadlier. "You don't deserve to be in our high class society. You don't belong in our world."
Harry scoffed, deciding it best if he let her little statement about warlocks go unnoticed. "High class society? Let me tell you something—"
"No," she interrupted, "Let me tell you something. If you two are what you say you are, then you have no reason to stay in this house."
"Now Marge," said Petunia, "they've already unpacked. What's the rush? They may stay here for as long as they wish. Isn't that right, Vernon?" she asked, giving a fierce glare towards Vernon.
It's about time she was assertive, thought Harry, looking between husband and wife.
Finally, after a few moments, Vernon acquiesced. "It's not a problem." Muttering something about the loo, Vernon quickly made a hasty exit.
"Potter's cast voodoo over Vernon, he has," Marge muttered before retiring to the Lounge.
Sighing a breath of relief, Petunia turned to the young family. Instantly, Hermione asked, "How did she know?"
"She must've heard our quarrel," answered Petunia, leading them up the steps. Knowing that the two would need further explaining, she did just that. "Vernon was arguing that we shouldn't have kept you, that you two are magical so you don't deserve to be here." She sighed, continuing, "I told him to take pity, that you two are barely teenagers, and that you have no where to go. But… he just wouldn't listen to me." She opened the door to their room and continued explaining. "And, I'm assuming that Marge overheard the part where he called you a Wizard and Hermione a Witch."
Harry nodded, setting James onto the bed. "I guess…"
Hermione sat on the bed, Lily lying comfortably on her lap, and she said, "There's no other way, is there? I mean, there had to have been a way that Marge had figured it out. Harry and I haven't used magic since Hogwarts, and we don't plan on doing magic until we get the tracking charms off of our wands."
Petunia nodded thoughtfully.
"Petunia!" sounded Vernon's booming voice, "We're leaving for dinner in an hour, I suggest you start getting ready!!"
Rolling her eyes, Petunia opened the bedroom door. "Dinner will be up in an hour. If you need anything, just tell me." At their nods, she gave them a small smile, and left.
"Once Hedwig comes, we should probably send the letter to Sirius," said Harry, taking his socks off and lying down next to James. "I mean, we can't stay here forever, and Sirius' place sounds the best."
She nodded. "Yeah, we already have our own rooms there," she paused. "But, where des he live?" she questioned herself.
"Grimmauld Place," he stated, remembering the address from before. "Oh – you mean where Grimmauld is, don't you?" He shrugged, "No idea."
She nodded and stood up, cradling Lily as she did so, and went to the window. "Harry, how far is the library from here?"
Trust Hermione to ask where the library is, thought Harry, shaking his head. "Err… It should be about ten minutes walking distance from here. Why?"
"Because I was thinking that we could look up Grimmauld," she said, still looking out the window.
He nodded, "I guess that'd work. But do you know how to work a computer?"
Nodding, she said, "Yes, when I was in Primary School, they taught me how to use a Muggle computer. I'm not an expert at it—Oh Harry, don't look at me like that!—but I know how to use it."
"So we're going to use the internet to find Sirius?" he asked, shrugging his jacket off and getting his hooded sweatshirt from the wardrobe. "Can't we just wait until we ask where he lives?"
"You're so lazy," Hermione muttered, placing Lily on the bed and sitting next to her, placing her hand lightly on her stomach. Lily made a soft gurgling sound, drool going down the side of her face. Giving a soft chuckle, Hermione took the baby bag and took out a piece of cloth, wiping the offending drool.
"Thanks for the compliment," Harry said, grinning as he, too, sat on the bed next to James.
Changing the subject, Hermione asked, "What about Draco?"
"What about Draco…?" he questioned slowly.
"We just told him 'bye' and left!" she exclaimed, looking at Harry. "You can't expect us to do anything without simply leaving him behind?"
"Where are you going with this?"
"I mean," she said exasperated, "that he could give us information! About what's happening at Hogwarts!"
"Oh…" Harry shrugged, resting his head against the wall. "Sure, I guess. Just remember, though, the Ministry is going to be asking for questions, and we're probably on the top of their list."
"Why would we be at the top?" she asked.
"Because of Snape," he stated knowingly. "Remember the first night we talked to Draco? He said that he'd overheard Snape and Dumbledore talking about 'some' potion. It's obvious they're going to question all of the Professors—and when Snape's turn arrives; my name is going to be the first thing that comes out of his mouth."
"Yes, I remember," she said remembering. "But why would the Ministry track mail?"
"To see if anyone knows of our whereabouts," he answered immediately. "I mean, I'm not entirely sure that they'll even notice we're gone—"
"Of course they'll notice, Harry!" Hermione interrupted. "You're Harry Potter, the Fourth Tri-Wizard Champion! I'm surprised if they hadn't already noticed!"
Harry chuckled, setting his glasses on the side table. "They probably think we've been shagging all day."
Hermione blushed and put her head down, her bushy hair covering her face. "We were close to it," she mumbled, playing with the hem of her jumper.
"But it's a good thing we didn't," he added, picking James up and playing with him now. "Otherwise another Potter would be on its way in a few months time."
"True."
And that was the end of their conversation. It was a peaceful silence, with each knowing that they needn't speak words to keep themselves entertained. Harry sat there with James in his lap, James occasionally gurgling and loosing balance of his head (which took Harry a few 'bobs' to notice and finally put his hand behind his head), and Harry chuckling and playing with his son's unruly hair and poking his stomach gently, making him smile widely. Hermione, with Lily sleeping peacefully, took out a book and started reading from where she left off; making sure that one of her hands was securing her infant daughter.
Before they even knew it, Petunia had come inside the bedroom, carrying a tray similar to the one they had earlier in the day. Their supper was on the plate, and Harry's senses were immediately filled with the scrumptious smells.
It wasn't as if Harry never had good food from the Dursleys; he just never got much. If he would do some 'freaky' thing, he'd often get barely enough to satisfy his small stomach. It had gone on until he was nearly eleven, the near starvation, but the good food that just made him ache for more. He thought of it as a torturous thing.
"We're leaving right now," Petunia said, putting the tray onto the studying desk. "We should be back in a few hours," she stated.
Hermione nodded, and Harry said, "Okay. Thanks, Aunt Petunia."
She nodded and left the room.
0—0—0—0
Hours later, Petunia made her way towards the Lounge. The dinner hadn't gone well. Most of the time, Vernon, Dudley, and Marge were degrading Harry and his family while they would scarf down their food. She didn't know how the woman could eat so much! Hadn't she learned of fruits and vegetables and healthy food? Everything Marge had ordered tonight was simply sugar, salt, and food had had much too much calorie content.
Pushing the thoughts from her head, she made her way towards the kitchen, feeling the need to make sure everything was in order before she retired to her room.
Noticing a paper on the cooker, Petunia looked at it, confused. She'd only subscribed to the Daily Prophet, but she'd already gotten hers in the morning. I wonder why its here, then.
Picking it up, her eyes went wide.
Author's Notes: Cliffhanger! Sorry, but I was way too lazy to write anymore.
Sorry for the long wait, guys! I had sooooooo much stuff to do, and I just couldn't find any time to write!!! Sooooooo sorry!!!
I'm not too sure if there are going to be any Book Seven spoilers in here… Like, if there'll be any. There's a possibility. Not too sure yet. Book seven was brilliant (ignoring the pairings, respectively), so I just might. Sorry, I'm having an internal battle with myself. Grin.
Reviews, anyone?