Chapter 7: Pitter Patter
It was an uncharacteristically beautiful day in late March. Petunia was visiting James with Harry, Dudley, and Neville, whom she had for the day. The three pre-schoolers loved visiting James, who was really just a big kid when he was himself. They were still too young to realize when he wasn't himself, and still thought him every bit as fun. Today, James was animatedly retelling a Gryffindor-Slytherin match from when he was a Chaser.
"And then Black, not your uncle Sirius, Harry, you understand, lobbed a Bludger at me. I was unconscious for nearly a week after that." He sighed, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back in his chair, a broad smile on his face. "But the penalty shot we got for that hit is what won us the game."
Petunia heard the door creak open and saw Alice quietly enter the room. "Story time?" she asked quietly.
"Retelling Quidditch matches," Petunia confirmed, closing the copy of Witch Weekly she had been reading, watching as James pulled out a set of miniature Quidditch balls and a battered copy of Quidditch through the Ages out from under his bed and began quizzing the boys. "How was your appointment?"
"The last potion didn't help at all," Alice said sadly, wringing her hands. "Physically, the doctors say that nothing's wrong with me. They've been able to remove all the scarring from the attack that might cause issues, but now they're suspecting some sort of curse. They've done several scans for curses and haven't found anything, so Healer McKay suggested I see a Muggle psychologist."
Petunia stifled a laugh. There was absolutely no possible way Alice Longbottom could visit a Muggle psychologist without completely blowing the International Statue of Secrecy out of the water. She had come a very, very long way from when Petunia had first met her and her frequent trips to 4 Privet Drive had greatly increased her awareness of Muggles, but she was still hopelessly pureblooded.
"If it helps, I'm willing to try it," Alice said, somewhat defensively.
"How common is adoption in the Wizarding world?" Petunia asked cautiously after a few minutes.
Alice looked thoughtful. "Not very," she admitted. "Well, at least your sort of adoption is rather common, taking in nieces or nephews. But since neither Frank nor I have any nieces or nephews, it's next to impossible."
"Hmm," Petunia said, thinking quickly. "I wonder, could you appeal to Dumbledore? Hogwarts has a book of all magical children born in the British Isles, there could be some Muggleborn children in orphanages."
"Now there's a thought!" Alice exclaimed, jumping up. "I've got to tell Frank, right now. Do you mind watching Neville for a little longer?"
Petunia laughed softly. "As if we could drag any of those boys away from the Quidditch talk right now."
Alice shook her head ruefully. "Too true," she said, giving Petunia a quick hug before dashing out the door.
Exhausted, Petunia opened the door to her room. Vernon was sitting up in bed, watching the news on the old telly that had been replaced by the larger one from his last raise.
"Boys tucked in?" he asked, peeling his eyes away and turning to his wife.
"Finally," Petunia said, letting out a long suffering sigh. "Dudley's become a right terror going to bed, I don't think it was right to take his night light away just yet."
Vernon grunted. "The boy's nearly five! He needs to learn to sleep in the dark, like any other child his age. Can't have him growing up spoiled."
"I'm sure waiting till he's six and slowly dimming the light till then will work out just as well."
"You can do that?" Vernon asked in awe. For all his previous complaining and ranting that magic was "unnatural" and "Satanic", he loved his wife dearly and when she decided that she was going to embrace the magical world again, he had been making tentative steps to do the same.
"Of course, Vernon," she said, chuckling to herself. "It's a child's trick, really."
Vernon laced his fingers behind his head as he leaned against the headboard. "Amazing stuff, magic. And to think neither of the boys has ever been sick thanks to… what's that steaming concoction called again?"
"Pepperup Potion," Petunia said, fighting the urge to smile madly and kiss her husband.
"Yes, that! Amazing stuff, that! Steams a cold right out of your head!"
"Magic can't fix everything though," Petunia cautioned him for what felt like the thousandth time. "Poor Alice, she found out today that there's absolutely no way she can have children again."
Vernon grew uncharacteristically quiet at that and began fiddling with the bedsheets. Petunia was strongly reminded of the night Lily died and terror seized her heart. "V-Vernon, darling," she said shakily, trying to brush the memory out of her mind. "What's wrong?"
Vernon abruptly stopped playing with the bedsheets, glanced at his wife then began twiddling his thumbs. "Iwantababygirl," he finally said, all in a rush, as his face began taking on a puce hue.
"Could – could you repeat that a little more slowly?"
"I-erm," he looked back down at the bedsheets and began scratching his large neck. "I want a little girl," he said quietly, refusing to look at his wife.
A broad grin stole across Petunia's face, although she'd much rather a little boy. Baby girls reminded her too much of her little Alice, her little Alice whom she had failed. Offering up a quick prayer to her daughter, she snuggled up to her husband.
"I'd like that," she eventually said softly.
Vernon finally turned to face her, relief etched on his features. "You would?"
"Mhm. Both Dudley and Harry will be in school next year – it should be easier than the two of them going through the terrible two's together."
"Excellent," Vernon said happily.
Petunia heaved into the toilet for the second morning in a row. She had just flushed the toilet and was rinsing her mouth out when Vernon walked into the bathroom, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Pet, Alice is calling for you," he mumbled, feeling around for his toothbrush.
"Alright, I'll be right in," she said, rubbing his shoulder. Her stomach was still unsettled enough that she didn't want to risk vomiting all over her husband.
Petunia's favorite invention was the Image Mirror, which she thought was a much cleaner form of communication than fire-calls – as well as far easier to hide from her nosy Muggle neighbors. In order to use it, you had to tap the enchanted mirror with your wand and clearly state the full name of the person you wished to talk to. It was a far cry from the two-way mirrors the wealthy students had when she was in school – these allowed you to speak with anyone who had a mirror on the Image Network and afforded greater privacy since the person on the other end couldn't see you until you answered their call. Sure enough, she walked into her room and Alice's image was on her vanity mirror, anxiously waiting for Petunia to answer the call.
"Good morning, Alice," Petunia greeted her friend after making sure her robe was securely fastened.
"Oh, Petunia! Finally! I've got great news!"
"I would imagine so, given how early you're calling," Petunia said wryly, glancing at the clock on the wall, which read ten to five.
"Hmph, I waited as long as I could," Alice informed her. "We got word after ten last night, and we had to inform Augusta first."
"Dumbledore found someone?" Petunia breathed.
Alice beamed. "He found someone last month, but Frank and I were too scared to tell anyone. The adoption went through last night."
Petunia's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Alice, I'm so happy for you," she choked out, reaching for a tissue. "How old? Boy, girl?"
Alice's wide grin broadened even further. "She was just born last night."
"Oh my, that's unexpected."
"Yes, quite. A young woman, a Parkinson, was a squib and subsequently abandoned in a Muggle orphanage when she didn't receive her Hogwarts letter. She began noticing that foods she was craving during her pregnancy would come flying towards her, so she went to Dumbledore hoping that she wasn't a squib. Unfortunately, he confirmed that she was indeed a squib, but the daughter she was carrying was a witch. After the treatment of her family, she wanted nothing to do with the Wizarding world and wanted her daughter to have nothing to do with the Parkinsons, so Dumbledore told her that he knew we were looking to adopt and she agreed!"
Petunia winced. She was extremely happy for her friend, but couldn't stomach the woman's complete lack of regard for her own daughter. "She needs therapy," she muttered.
Alice let out a happy, tinkling laugh. "Dumbledore and I whole-heartedly agree on that," she agreed. "Dumbledore's looking for a fellow squib therapist for her to talk to, since she clearly can't discuss her problem with a Muggle and refuses to speak to a Healer."
"So, what've you named her?" Petunia asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.
Alice suddenly looked nervous. "Well… that's what I'm calling about actually. We were thinking of naming her Mildred… you know, in memory of your Alice."
The floodgates opened. Tears streaming down her face, Petunia barely managed to get out an, "Excuse me," before grabbing one of Vernon's large, soft handkerchiefs and collapsing on the bed.
Vernon, hearing his wife's sobs, came storming into the room. Sitting on the bed and moving a bawling Petunia to his lap, he angrily turned toward the mirror. "What did you say to her?" he demanded.
Alice looked pale shaken. "I didn't mean to upset you," she said nervously. "I just wanted to return the honor you gave me all those years ago – Emily Augusta is in the running, too."
Blowing her nose noisily, Petunia shook her head. "No, I'm just emotional right now," she admitted. "I'd be honored if you named her Mildred."
Vernon's arms tightened about Petunia as he suddenly realized why she was sobbing her heart out. Alice seemed to be having a similar revelation. Her eyes narrowed as she took in her unusually emotional friend who was still looking a little green about the gills. "Petunia," she said at last, shaking her head and sighing. "Did you really think that I'd be so jealous of you that you couldn't tell me when you were due?"
"I haven't confirmed anything yet," Petunia confessed as Vernon mused, "So that's why you've been sick in the mornings…"
Petunia thumped her husband on the shoulder good naturedly. "This is only the second morning!" she protested.
Alice laughed delightedly. "Well, I'll come 'round this afternoon with Neville and Mildred. Is two alright?"
"Of course," Petunia said, smiling. Today was going to be a joyful day.
Author's Note:
Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I hope everyone enjoyed it!
