Author's Note: If you are one of the very first followers of this story, please check the AN added at the end of chapter1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the recognizable characters
Chapter 2
Nanna used to say that everyone gets something from their names, she'd touch her cheeks softly and say that she looks like a summer rose, with beautiful beads of pearly dew. Nanna was too nice of course, but she liked the way she'd caress her cheeks and stroke her hair, she'd always surrender to sleep resting her head on Nanna's lap.
God, she missed her.
Without her, everything was duller and sadder and lonelier, especially breakfasts, Nanna always gave special care to breakfasts she used to say "two thirds of the day's joy are in a good breakfast"
"and the third?" Nada would ask knowing the answer
"to have a nice breakfast with someone you love" she'd say
Now, she'd wake up early, and have her breakfast alone, sometimes her dad would sit at the table with her but since he'd be reading the paper or engaged on the phone with another VIP, she could hardly count this less "alone".
He'd kiss her goodbye though, leaving her a waft of tobacco, expensive perfume, and loneliness.
She never doubted that he loved her, he'd go mad whenever she's hurt, got a flue, got depressed, or if she cried. Oh he'd get so mad if he saw her tears- that's why she didn't cry anymore. That is how he cared for her, and she understood that. However, sometimes he went too far.
That morning was one of those times.
It was a couple of hours to mid-day when she came back home, with her torn pants and bloody palms. She felt better than how she looked however. It had been a while since she talked to someone who'd listen; someone she'd like to listen to. It was a small talk, but not the boring, fake type of small talk, it was rather relaxing.
She talked fondly about her homeland, and bitterly about how she has to move a lot that she barely lived in her home country. She told him about the places she has been to, and he was visibly impressed to know that she spoke five languages fluently.
He didn't talk about himself much, but she could know some bits and pieces from his comments. He was three months younger than her, he went to a boarding school, and never been out of the country, he'd love to he said, but it wasn't likely. She wanted to ask why, but didn't.
She asked him nothing, and intended to keep it that way as she didn't want to lose the only friend -or potential friend- she was about to have. That, of course, was before her father ruined everything.
She was about to enter her room when he saw her, the first thing his eyes landed on were her torn clothes, and his eyes went wider as they worked their way up.
"What happened?" He whispered in utter shock
she raised her palms as a gesture to calm him down "I am okay," she said slowly and calmly as if she was taming an angry wolf. That was a very bad idea though, bringing her scrapped palms in full view.
"Who did this to you?" He said, now shouting.
"Daddy- Daddy calm down-I just tripped" she said trying to contain his anger "it happens, not a big deal- no one did anything to me," she got closer now looking him straight in the eyes "Nobody hurt me, look at me, I am fine," at this she gently touched his elbow in what she hoped to be a reassuring gesture, and he seemed to relax a bit.
He went silent for a moment then said, more calmly "come on, you need to see a doctor," at this, she almost laughed-but she knew better not to.
"Why don't you call the ambulance as well?" She said jokingly "I am fine trust me- besides I got it tended to right after it happened," later that day she regretted those words.
"What-how..?" He said, frowning in confusion
"A boy helped me-he got me a some ice and I put it on my knees," she said with a shrug "I will apply some antibiotics on it and It will be fine" she mused, inspecting her elbow which was a bit injured as well.
"A boy?" He repeated, as if she said nothing afterwards.
"Come on Dad- the boy who always works on the Dursley's garden?" she said then realized that her Dad wouldn't ever notice him, God he barely noticed her.
He paused for a moment and touched his pockets making sure that he didn't forget his wallet as usual, then said with a sigh "I am late- should go now" she was relieved by that, but almost choked on her own breath "I should go thank him first though".
Harry felt sleepy by the time Nada left, but decided to work on the garden first so that his aunt won't go banging on his door to wake him up from a really needed sleep.
It was nice talking to her, talking at all actually.
The time he spent on privet drive rarely involved talking, or more precisely civilized conversations with other human beings. He had no one to talk to except Hedwig which he thought was quite pathetic. Other conversations only involved snapping and nasty looks, either directed to him or by him.
And Nada was so easy to talk to, she didn't pry, she didn't ask any questions, and she always had something to say about anything, not in a know it all manner like Hermione might be sometimes, but in an interesting manner that kept the conversation flowing nicely, not too personal, and not too shallow.
He was dragged out of his thoughts when a tall, very well dressed man called for him "Hey- son," raising one hand like one would for a waiter.
Harry approached the man carefully, there was something intimidating about him inspite of his formal smile, or maybe because of it. This and his well-tailored grey suite, the air of authority that he had about him, and his piercing wide eyes- he looked familiar as well.
"Sir?" Harry began tentatively
"I am very grateful for what you did with my daughter this morning" he said extending a hand to harry.
Harry wiped his muddy hand on his T-shirt quickly and shook the man's hand, confusion etched on his face "what I did sir?-your daughter?"
"She was injured this morning and I was informed that you kindly provided your assistance" the man explained, and understanding washed over harry despite the exaggerated vocabulary.
"Oh," he now noticed that Nada is approaching them, a sincere apologetic look on her face. "That wasn't a big deal-sir," he looked from him to her.
"It is- for me" the man said, putting his hand in his inside pocket. "Here," he said, offering a wide eyed Harry a couple of notes "That's a humble thanks from us"
Harry looked from the father to his daughter several times, leaving the man's hand hanging in midair.
Growing impatient the man thrusted the notes in his hand "Take them," he said "Get your family something nice on your way home- I appreciate hard working lads like you" he patted him on the shoulder.
Nada opened her mouth and closed it immediately, nothing could fix that.
Harry didn't know what to feel, but whatever he felt could not by any means pass as indifference.
The spray of cold water running on his head and back was nothing compared to that man's words. He was used to the disapproving looks he received from the inhabitants of privet drive, being looked down at, or even humiliated. It is not that it wasn't annoying, but it wasn't new either. In fact, the man's words sounded funny until he reached the part of "buy something on your way home"
He thought that he was some kind of servant to the Dursleys.
In fact, he couldn't blame him- it is not like he was sun bathing in the garden and the man drew irrational assumptions. He was in dirty clothes and his hands were covered in mud, and he was doing the gardening.
He was actually angry that he was angry; he stopped caring what people think long time ago, he shouldn't even care given the current context. But deep down, he knew that he didn't care what anybody thought of him, but what that man thought- and all what it signified, brought some questions he stopped asking long ago back to the surface.
He stopped wondering why he'd sleep in the cupboard under the stairs while his cousin had two bedrooms long ago, why he'd get an old sock for his birthday while his cousin got 37 presents, why he'd cook breakfast and never eat until his family are done, he'd eat alone like he'd do anything, alone, why he wouldn't eat any meal without being reminded that the food on his plate a grant that he should be thankful for.
He stopped asking long ago, why he was never included in a family photo, and very reluctantly in a family outing, why he never received a nice word from them, not them- her. He could understand why his uncle would hate him, and Duddly, was..well, Duddly, but why did she hate him that much? He could never understand that.
It broke his heart as a kid.
But he was not a kid anymore, he shouldn't have felt what he felt.
He loathed himself for that very small part of him, that still wanted to be loved and cared for "grow up harry" he thought "you are almost sixteen".
He didn't need them, he never did. He had his friends, and- his friends were more than enough. He was fine, he told himself, that he was absolutely fine.
He sat on the shower floor, hugging his legs to his chest, letting the cold water drum on his head and back, trying to contain the painful emptiness in his chest. He was fine.
He didn't know how long he sat there, but he was sure that it was long enough that his thoughts drifted to Sirius and from Sirius to the prophecy and from the prophecy all the way to Quiditch, by the time he stepped out of the shower he had successfully stuffed that morning incident in the back of his head.
He poked his head out of the bathroom before walking on tip-toes towards his room, and was about to enter his room when he was stopped by a too familiar shriek coming from across the hall
"Now what," he muttered
"You-you used one of our towels" she said, looking in disgust at the towel wrapped around his waist.
He looked at her then to the towel, sure enough it was one of their towels. Actually the shower was a kind of an on the spot decision, so he just grabbed any towel.
"What? Do you want it now?" He said with a bored voice Pretending to unwrap it.
Her eyes went too wide for even humanly possible and she ran down stairs muttering something about freaks and filthy towels.
Satisfied that his aunt was horrified enough, he entered the room slamming the door behind him. And his day went as normal as a Harry Potter day could possibly go.