Proud
It didn't take Vernon very long to realize something about Harry was… different. Usually, he was able to brush it off. After all, not all children were alike (or so he'd been told, anyway,) and Harry had spent his first year of life in bad company. Who knew what kind of scarring that must have left on him?
But sometimes it was very hard to explain the things that just seemed to happen as if by magic around him. Like a toy that was out of reach suddenly being in the toddler's grip, or extra peaches turning up on his plate after Vernon specifically told him no more (Dudley needed them, nothim). Then there was when the lights flickered during a tantrum; he disliked that one the most. It scared Vernon and made him question if ghosts or poltergeists weren't actually real. It made him feel like a fool when he did, but Vernon just didn't know what to make of the happenings. The fact he couldn't find a source (though, Harry did seem a beacon for the activity) or an explanation made him fretful of what would happen with the nanny he was to hire.
What if these odd occurrences scared them off? Vernon couldn't be looking for a new one every weekend.
Thankfully, his fears were quickly put to rest. The nanny he found, Peggy Whitmore, a tiny troll of a woman nearing her sixties, didn't care about the strange incidents that happened around Harry. She simply believed there was a reason for everything and decided quite early Harry just needed to be kept on a short leash.
As time went on, and his son and nephew became two, three, four, five, sixoften times, Vernon would come home from work to find Harry sitting in a corner with his nose to the wall.
When he would ask Peggy what had happened, she usually told him Harry was in the corner for lying. Vernon rarely asked what he'd been lying about, simply more disappointed his efforts to turn the child into an upstanding citizen were failing.
Badness had to be in the genes, Vernon figured.
(But Petunia was so perfect).
Every now and again, Dudley would get the same treatment. Though, his reason for being in the corner often had to do with him saying mean things to either Peggy or Harry. Occasionally for hitting Harry or some other child they had played with at the nearby park.
While Vernon didn't really see a problem with the latter, as boys would be boys, he never said anything. Peggy was a good nanny and he figured she'd do a better job instilling a sense of right and wrong than he ever could on his own. And that was just how things were. Peggy took care of his boys during the day and Vernon had them during the evenings and weekends.
However, despite the fact Harry and Dudley were literally night and day of one another and rarely got along for any extended interval of time, when Vernon had them, he insisted they do everything they could together. He had them clean their rooms together, take bathes together, watch the telly together and have their bedtime story together in his bedroom.
It might not have bonded them together as the son of Petunia and nephew of Petunia as he hoped, but it meant that things were easier for him. As they'd always been together, and were so young they didn't realize they could be separate, where one was the other would be also.
So, one rainy Saturday afternoon, when Vernon noticed that things had been far too quiet upstairs for much too long, Vernon didn't even have to bother with the idea that Harry might have found himself in the cupboard under the stairs and Dudley somewhere in the attic. Vernon knew, without an ounce of doubt in his giant soul, that they were both somewhere upstairs in the bedrooms.
He was most likely in his bedroom, since they were so silent.
Instead of yelling up to them as he often did, Vernon decided to get up from his chair and paper to investigate. Climbing the stairs one at a time, he muttered half-annoyed, half-curious, "What could those boys be up to?"
Walking into his bedroom, it didn't take very long for Vernon to find out. The boys were huddled at the foot of his bed. Dudley's fair head and Harry's dark one bent so close their locks mingled. It was like a clash between night and day. They were whispering to one another, passing papers and what looked to be pictures between them.
Cocking his head, Vernon tried to figure out what photos and papers they could be looking at. What had he kept so close to the bed? So close to the floor?
Vernon had never, but Petunia had.
Those were his wife's things the boys were looking at. For a moment, Vernon wanted to scream at them, push them away and scold them for touching such precious things with their dirty fingers. But, despite how he could feel the vein in his forehead beginning to throb, Vernon didn't. Instead, he swallowed back his anger and counted to ten.
After all, it was just he and the boys here today. If he went too far in his fury, there would be no one to stop him.
"...Wish I knew what the letter said," Harry murmured to Dudley. "I think it's from mymummy. There's a big 'L' at the end and Uncle Vernon says her name was Lily."
Taking it back, Dudley said, "Maybe next summer we can find the box again. We should be able to read by then, don't you think? I don't think Dad will get rid of the box or move it between now and then."
Dropping the letter into the box, Dudley picked up the lid and was about to put it back on the box when Harry cried in a hiss, "Wait!"
Reaching in, he snatched out two photos and hugged them close before bobbing his head at his cousin. "Okay," he said.
Putting the lid on, Dudley shoved the box back beneath the bed skirt and asked Harry, "Don't you think Dad will notice they're missing?"
"Nuh-huh," Harry replied. "The box was all dusty, remember? I don't think he's opened it in forever."
Harry was right Vernon was surprised to note. How such a little boy could deduct something like that, he didn't know. Maybe he had a bit of Petunia's neatness in him? She always picked up on dirt and grime he would have never noticed. Like a spec of mud on his work shoes, or when there was a fingerprint on the glass of the coffee table.
"Oh," Dudley replied simply. "Which pictures did you take?" he asked.
Taking a hurried step back into the hall when he saw his nephew's head begin to turn, Vernon watched from behind the shadows of the doorjamb as the foundling child gave his cousin a shy smile.
"I took the one of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's wedding day - for you. I thought you might like to keep it, 'cause you thought she was so pretty in it," he whispered as he let the photo pass from his fingers into the reverent ones of his son.
Bringing the picture close to him, Dudley returned the smile with a bashful blush. "Thanks, Harry," he whispered.
Stepping away from the doorway, Vernon headed for the stairs once more. This was a private moment between the two and he had witnessed enough as it was.
Taking his seat back in his chair, once he was in his living room again, the man idly picked up his paper and thought warmly of the boy, once baby, he had taken into his home.
Harry might be more a failure than a success, but it couldn't be denied that some of his Pet's goodness was there. It only needed the right scenario to bring it out.
-v-v-v-v-v-
Coming through the front door, Vernon dipped his head in greeting to Misses Whitmore when he saw her descending the staircase with an empty basket.
"'Lo, Misses Whitmore," he said.
The burly little woman smiled. "Mister Dursley, hello," she returned. "After I put this basket away, I'll be heading off. The roast just has another ten minutes to go before you and the boys can eat."
A pleasant feeling overtook Vernon as he went forward and offered his open hands to the woman. "Let me do that, Misses Whitmore. You've done more than enough for us," he told her.
And she really had done more than enough. The woman had taken up doing many of the domestic tasks around his home over the past seven years. He'd never asked for them to be done, but once she started to see that he was hopeless at it, she'd begun to do them simply because she wanted to make things easier for a widower like him.
Vernon appreciated it greatly and didn't know what he'd do once he sent the boys off to Smeltings.
The woman put the basket in his hand and gave his forearm a kind pat as she passed him. "What a dear you are," she complimented.
Following after her as she put on her coat, Vernon asked, "How were the boys this afternoon? Did they behave?"
"Yes, the boys were very good today," Misses Whitmore told the man as she fixed her coat's collar. "Dudley talked a great deal to me about the goal he made playing footie during gym class." Heading for the door, the woman put a hand to her chin as she remarked, "Harry was quiet, but he gets that way some days."
"What are the lads doing now?" Vernon asked as the woman stepped through the open doorway.
"Oh, Dudley is getting his homework done so he can watch the telly after dinner and Harry is upstairs."
"Thank you again, Missis Whitmore."
The woman smiled and headed for her car parked in the street. "See you tomorrow, Mister Dursley."
Nodding as he closed the door, Vernon turned and headed for the laundry room to put away the laundry basket.
-v-v-v-v-v-
Finished with ladling the stew into three bowls, one for himself and the other two for the boys, Vernon turned toward the kitchen table and frowned when he saw only Dudley waiting for him.
"Where's your cousin, Dudley? Didn't I tell you to get him?"
Nodding as he reached for his glass of milk, his son smiled. "I did, Dad! But he wouldn't open his room's door." Furrowing his fair brows until a dimple formed above the bridge of his nose, the round-faced boy remarked, "He said he wasn't hungry."
Vernon found himself raising an eyebrow as he set the bowls down and took his seat at the head of the table. "Oh?" he murmured. Harry could get finicky about eating sometimes, but he'd never begged off saying he wasn't hungry before.
Distantly, the man recalled how his late wife would do the same when she was upset.
Was Harry the same in that regard he wondered?
He supposed it didn't matter. Harry wasn't his wife; he was his nephew - and a child at that. If Harry wanted to be surly, he could be left to it. He'd figure out it didn't get him anything in the end when he had to deal with an empty stomach when he went to bed tonight.
"Well, I guess that's just his loss," he told his son. "So, how was your day at school, Dudley?"
Face lighting up as he began to prattle off all the things that had happened during his day. Leaning in and listening avidly as Dudley spoke, Vernon laughed several times at what his son told him and asked a number of questions.
This was nice. Usually he didn't have the chance to talk so freely with Dudley. With Harry around, Vernon had to make sure he did his best to never show outward favor for his son. It wouldn't do to give Harry a complex on top of the one that was already there thanks to him being an orphan.
For the rest of the evening, Vernon had the most pleasant time he'd had in a long time. It was just he and Dudley and they had a grand time watching Dudley's favorite shows on the telly and talking about the shows that Vernon had watched as a lad and how they compared.
When it came time to send his son off to bed, Vernon wondered if there wouldn't be a way to have more quality time like this with Dudley ever. He'd need to find a way to get rid of Harry for the evening, he knew.
Maybe he could see if the boy had any mates he'd like to have a sleepover with. Harry didn't seem to have too many friends, (unlike Dudley) but he did talk about other children occasionally.
Giving his son a hug outside the boy's bedroom, Vernon said, "Goodnight, lad."
"Night, Dad," Dudley replied with a toothy grin before walking into his room and shutting his door behind him.
Turning around, Vernon was about to go to his own room when he saw a sliver of light shining out from beneath Harry's door. Feeling the vein in his forehead begin to pop out, Vernon let out an annoyed sigh as he stalked toward the bedroom door. Not only was the boy sulking, he was wasting energy? Who on earth did Harry think he was?
Grabbing the door handle, he gave it a hard yank. "You open this door right now, Harry!" he commanded.
A beat passed.
Just as he was going to start shouting his anger, the door unlocked and swung open.
Vernon just stared.
Harry stared back; his chin scraped and mottled purple and blue.
Anger falling away to some degree, Vernon asked, "What happened to you, lad?"
The little boy's lip began to quiver as his unearthly green eyes glassed over with tears.
Sighing, Vernon put a hand on his nephew's shoulder and said, "Why don't we go take a seat on your bed?"
Sniffling into his too-long sleeve, Harry nodded and allowed Vernon to lead him over to his bed. Sitting down beside one another, Vernon made the careful move of taking his nephew's head in his hands and rotating it to get a good look at the injury. "Is it just your chin that's hurt, lad? Is there anything wrong with your teeth or anything?" he inquired.
"No, Uncle Vernon," Harry mumbled.
The man breathed a sigh of relief. The yearly hassle that came with getting Harry's eyes checked and new glasses was enough to go through, adding in a trip to the dentist so shortly after his trip to the optometrist would really be an inconvenience for Vernon.
"Well, that's good to hear," he said. "Now, how about you tell me what happened? How did Misses Whitmore not notice this?"
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know why she didn't. I was hopingall the way home she wouldn't and when she didn't...I decided to stay in my room."
Vernon frowned. It wasn't like Misses Whitmore to miss something like this. She was a shrewd woman and was very good at noticing when something was off. Was this just another instance of Harry's oddness? Vernon had to wonder.
"You still haven't told me what happened, Harry," he told the boy reproachfully.
Harry bit his lip and tucked his hands into his lap. "You won't be happy if I do, Uncle Vernon."
"I'm alreadyunhappy, Harry. What if you'd chipped a tooth? Or even worse, lost one? I distinctly recall Dudley knocked out your last baby one in that fight you two had in July," he reminded him in a grumble. "So, why don't you just tell me? I won't be angry with you."
Green eyes very large, the boy looked up and whispered, "Promise?"
Vernon found himself speechless for a moment as he blinked back a sudden urge to tear up. There was just something about the way Harry was looking at him that brought his dear Pet to mind. Maybe it was the sheer hope and relief that was shimmering in his gaze. Petunia had looked the same when he told her he'd love her for forever.
"Yes, Harry," he whispered.
Relaxing marginally, the boy nodded as he looked away. "It was Dudley, Uncle Vernon. We were playing footie in gym class and I was going to get a goal, but he shovedme out of the way and stole it! It wasn't fair! Nobody even noticed 'cause they were cheering for Dudley!"
Little hands coming to cover his mouth, Harry mumbled into them, "No one cared."
Vernon didn't know what to say to his nephew. While he sympathized to some degree, and felt annoyed with Dudley for being so rough with Harry after being constantly reminded since the incident in July that he was too big to be so physical with his cousin, he just wanted to tell the boy that it was just how the sport was. In football, people got hurt. He also wanted to point out that's how life worked too; the bigger, stronger, fiercermen were always going to steal what rightfully belonged to little, weak, meek men. It was a tough world and you had to be ready to get up and fight for what was yours - not just roll over and take it (as he suspected Harry had done once his goal was stolen).
"I'm sorry, lad," he settled on. "I'll remind Dudley in the morning to be more careful with smaller children, because he really should have been more gentle, but..." he trailed off. Putting one hand on Harry's head, he stretched out the other and grasped at air. "But there's something you just have to understand, Harry, that's just how the game - life - works. The strong take from weak. If you hadn't just laid there after he shoved you and got up and fought,you might have been able to get your goal back - or taken one from him later."
Harry frowned. "But we were on the same team, Uncle Vernon. It wasn't right."
"By taking it though, everyone cheered for him, right? Would he have gotten that if he hadn't? No. That's what Dudley wanted and he got it, didn't he? Look, there's nothing to be done about it now. Next - Next time this happens or something, get up and take it back. Do you understand, Harry?" he questioned, giving the boy a strained smile.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry whispered as he pulled away and began to tug at his blankets.
Getting up, Vernon helped his nephew under his blankets and said, "Goodnight, Harry."
Back turned to him, the boy mumbled, "G'night Uncle Vernon."
Walking toward the door, Vernon cast a glance back. His nephew's tiny form was little more than a bump beneath his covers. He was so slim. Just like his aunt.
Shaking his head, Vernon opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Closing the door behind him, he just leaned against it for a time.
For some reason, he felt like he'd failed Harry. Though, he couldn't put his finger on why.
He'd explained how life was, that was all. All parents (or, guardians, rather,) had to at some point. Now had seemed as good a time as any to him...
'Was that what Harry needed from you there, though?' a voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Vernon honestly didn't know.
Thoughts on what you've seen here? How do you feel about Vernon and his relationship with Harry and Dudley? What about Dudley and Harry's relationship?
Thank you for reading and please review!