Broken China Doll
by: pandorabox82
Chapter Seven: Remembering Something I Forgot
Harry was re-reading the letter he'd received that morning. He'd been right, and she had come through for him once again. It would be a few days before she'd be ready for them, as she had to tell the Order what was going on. Also, he needed time to pack his belongings as well as his aunt's. He took a seat next to her, still smiling, until he caught the look in her eyes and the bruise on her cheek. All happy thoughts fled as concern for her filled his mind.
"I'm fine, before you ask. It's just a bruise, after all. Anyway, today's segment will be the shortest, as well as the hardest, to tell. Today, I speak of my sister's death.
Dudley continued to grow, and Petunia was having a hard time lifting him any longer. He squirmed and wriggled all the time he was held and wanted sweets all the time. He was indulged in this because it was one of the few ways he could be quieted.
The autumn months had become stiflingly hot, with the air refusing to cool. In the pit of Petunia's stomach, a sense of dread had taken up residence. She tried to brush it off as worry about Vernon and his job not being secure after all these years, but deep in her heart she knew it wasn't that. Something bad was going to happen, and soon.
September slipped into October and the weather pattern, as well as the feeling in Petunia, remained the same. As the month passed, the weather became more oppressive, or at least it seemed that way to Petunia.
The night of October 31st found Petunia sleeping on top of the sheets. It was a restless sleep, filled with strange dreams of an evil laugh, Lily's terrified face, and a scream that chilled Petunia to the bone. As green became the only color she could see any longer, her eyes snapped open. Breathing in deeply, she tried to calm her racing heart, but found she couldn't. She looked over at her husband, who was still sleeping deeply, unaware of his wife or her labored breathing.
Petunia slipped off the bed and drew a housecoat over her nightgown. Quietly, she tiptoed to Dudley's room and peeked in on him. He was still sleeping soundly, so she shut his door once more and crept back to bed. She was not able to shake the chill from her bones and so she slipped beneath the covers and snuggled close to Vernon, trying to soak up some of the warmth from his body. Sleep did not come easily, but when it did, there were no more dreams. A small, unconscious part of Petunia wondered if she would ever dream like that again.
When morning came, Petunia was surprised to feel the nip of autumn in the air. The weather had broken sometime in the night, and she was glad to have a sense of normalcy back in her life. She dressed for the day and went downstairs to get the morning paper before making breakfast.
As she opened the door, she was surprised to see a small bouquet of flowers lying on the stoop on top of the paper. As she picked them up, she smiled slightly. 'Vernon must have paid the paper boy to do this for me. That's so sweet of him.'
Once inside, she set the paper on the table and filled a small vase with water, placing the flowers inside. After she'd finished setting the vase on the table as well, she began to make breakfast, listening for her husband and child to make their wake up noises.
When Vernon came into the kitchen, he was wearing one of his nicer suits. "Do you have an important meeting today, dear?" she asked.
"No, I just felt like wearing something nice today. So, who got you the flowers?"
"You mean you didn't get these for me?"
"Why would I do something like that? It's not our anniversary or anything. Tell me, Pet, you aren't seeing anyone behind my back, are you?"
She looked at him and saw the malice in his eyes. Quickly, she said, "Of course not, dearest. I love you. Why would there be the need for anyone else?"
Vernon visibly relaxed at her words. "Exactly. Who else could love you like me?"
The rest of breakfast was spent in silence. Petunia wondered who had sent her the flowers, now that she knew her husband was not behind them. She took a closer look at the bouquet and noticed there was a lily and a marigold nestled in between the bunches of baby's breath, forget-me-nots, and gardenias. 'How odd,' she thought, staring at the flowers. She almost believed she had made out a face in the lily when Dudley began to cry.
She kissed Vernon good-bye and then went upstairs to deal with her son. After changing him and then dressing him in outdoor clothes, she brought him downstairs and fed him. The doctors were getting a bit concerned about his weight, but she knew he was just big-boned. Besides, as he grew, the baby fat would melt off him.
When he'd finished his food, she took him into the garage and put him in his stroller. They walked around the neighborhood a bit, stopping at the cat lady's house to let Dudley pet a cat. Mrs Figg usually didn't like him to do that because he was rather rough with them. Today, however, it was a different story. She'd smiled shakily at him as they approached her fence and picked up her gentlest cat for him to pet.
"I am so sorry about what happened, dear."
"What do you mean, Mrs Figg?"
"You haven't heard yet? Surely you must have felt something. I'm certain you'll be informed shortly, then. Take care." Mrs Figg took the cat back from Dudley and scurried into her house, shutting the door forcefully.
Petunia tried to brush off her neighbor's words, but found she couldn't. She pushed the now screaming Dudley home as fast as she could. Once safe inside her living room, she gave her son a bottle to quiet him and then sat down on the sofa. Something was not quite right, though she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe Vernon had heard the news on the radio and could tell her what was going on.
Hours flew by, as she fed Dudley, then put him down for a nap. She flipped on the telly, but it told her nothing. Sighing, she turned it off and went into the kitchen to begin supper.
Vernon had been later than usual, and had been acting strangely ever since arriving home. "Dearest, what did your sister name her son again? Wasn't it Horace of something like that?"
Thinking it a test from him about her sister and her world, she answered him with as much derision as she could. "No, it was Harry. Such a nasty, common name."
"Right. Well, I'm off to bed, long day tomorrow and all. Care to join me?"
She looked at him and saw the old Vernon in his eyes, the Vernon she'd known before marriage had changed him. Smiling at him, she nodded and let him lead her up the steps to their bedroom. As she changed for the night, he put Dudley in his crib and then came back to her. For one brief moment, she was happy again.
She snuggled close to him again as she had the previous night and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him. She drifted off to sleep, safe in his arms like any normal wife in England.
The morning dawned clear and bright. Petunia carefully disentangled himself from her husband, then dressed for the day. Today, the milkman came, and she knew she had to get the milk in the refrigerator quickly before it spoiled. She rushed down the stairs and breathlessly opened the door. Bending down, she reached to pick up the wire basket the bottles came in when she noticed the wicker basket.
Something in the basket moved, and she picked it up cautiously. Moving part of the blanket, she was shocked to see a baby's face staring back at her. Giving a small gasp of recognition, she brought the basket inside before she began to scream.
"Vernon thought I was screaming in horror at the fact we were going to have a freak in the house. Really, though, it was recognizing your eyes and knowing then that my sister was dead that caused me to react like that."
"So you never say my mum again?"
"Not since my parents died. That was the final straw. I wish now that things had been different, but we can't change the past."
"We can change the future, though. Here, read this. It came this morning, and it may be the best news I've gotten in quite a while. I've got to begin packing, though. She's expecting us the day after tomorrow."
"Who is, Harry? What are you talking about?"
"Just read the letter, Aunt Petunia, then come upstairs and I'll help you pack and disguise the closet so nothing looks out of place."
"Stop right there and explain yourself, young man. I demand to know what you have planned."
"The letter will tell you everything you need to know. However, we have a lot to do this afternoon and tomorrow, if we're to be ready. I'll see you upstairs in ten minutes." He smiled at her, and then left her at the table to read the letter.
She opened the envelope and drew out a single sheaf of paper. The writing was more flowery then she was accustomed to, but she was still able to make out what the letter said. Salty tears pricked her eyes as she read about the welcome being planned for them. After all these years, the words Remus had spoken, about sanctuary, and those willing to give it, were coming true.