For Vernon Dursley's thirtieth birthday, the whole family decided to celebrate with a weekend outing to watch the Westfield Football club game at Woking Park. Vernon's parents were coming down from London, escorted by Marge.
"Vernon! Happy birthday, darling! You're looking well! And you, Petunia dear." Wheezing slightly from the effort of walking into the fish and chips shop and also speaking, Vernon's mother Dorothy Dursley turned away from the adults and bent to pinch Harry's cheek. "So this is the little nephew we've been hearing about for three years! Isn't he darling!" Harry blushed. The poor thing was unused to the attention of strangers. Petunia always whisked him and Dudley away from any potentially-too-interested adults outside their small neighborhood.
"Sort of scrawny," Vernon's father commented. He winced as he eased himself onto a chair. He had probably bumped his foot on the table; he was reportedly recovering from a gout flare.
"Oh, hush Herbert." Dorothy swatted his shoulder as she sat down next to him, and he winced again. "That just means he's easier to hug. Come to Granny, Harry!"
Harry seemed reluctant to let go of Petunia's hand, but she nudged him forwards. Dorothy pulled Harry up onto her lap for a hug, and he practically disappeared into her voluminous bosoms.
"Aww, what a sweet child."
Dudley, pouting slightly, trotted forwards to greet his grandparents. Herbert smiled at him instantly. "There's my boy! Proper, strapping lad you are, why, you look just like your father..." He shifted his cane to his left hand and ruffled Dudley's hair. Then gave him a candy.
"Really, Herbert, wait until after lunch," Petunia scolded as she snatched the candy up and pocketed it. She smiled at Dudley. "You'll get it back after you've finished lunch-lunch, sweetums." Dudley scowled up at her, but Dorothy distracted him by snagging his shoulders and pulling him over for a shower of kisses.
Harry took the opportunity to slip back off her lap and come hide behind Petunia again. Marge noticed, of course. She disapproved of Harry's shy moments, said he should have grown out of it by now, like Dudley. She opened her mouth to say so, but Petunia cut her off. "Harry, let's you and me go order food for everybody." Taking her nephew in hand, she strolled away towards the counter, leaving the crowd of Dursleys to their greetings. She heard Herbert mutter "hideous scar" behind them, and anger pooled in her chest. She acknowledged the feeling; she never got along well with Herbert. But as usual, she would not show it. She would be polite, as was only proper with a sick, bitter old man. Herbert was only in his fifties, but he had smoked heavily for thirty years and looked almost seventy with his balding scalp, purple-tinged skin, and mincing gait. The muscle he'd reputedly had as a boxer in his youth had turned entirely to flab with decades of desk-work.
She hoisted Harry up while they waited in line and murmured into his ear. "I can see you're nervous, sweet. It's okay to be nervous when you're meeting new people. In fact, it's sometimes wise to be wary." She recalled darkly that Harry would be famous for no good reason when he eventually reentered Lily's and Severus' world. He'd meet all kinds of people trying to ingratiate themselves with him. Better he not try to be friendly with everyone. But he had to live in Petunia's world for now, which meant he had to get along with her in-laws. "That said, you don't have to be afraid of Grandma and Grandpa Dursley. They're a lot like Auntie Marge. They're happy to meet you, but they'll not hesitate to speak their minds. Even if you're nervous, you don't have to look nervous, Harry, and they'll be impressed with you if you can be brave today."
Harry listened attentively, but he bit his lip. "Isn't that lying?" he asked softly.
Petunia blinked in surprise. She supposed, in a way, putting on a brave face was a little deceptive if he didn't feel brave, but it wasn't lying. It was just natural psychology, like a cat bristling its tail. She shook her head at Harry. "Lying is when you're trying to trick someone else. Lies that hurt are the kind you must never tell. Hiding the fact that you're nervous or afraid isn't the same. No one expects you to share everything that you're feeling or thinking all the time, Harry. Bravery is when you're afraid but you don't let that feeling control what you do. Like today. You might feel nervous, but do you want to hide behind me all day, or do you want to help your uncle celebrate his birthday?"
Harry grinned at her. "I want Uncle Vernon have the best birthday!"
"And you want to have a yummy lunch and watch a real, live, grownup football game?"
"Yes!"
"Good. That's my sweet Harry. Now, help me pick out what kind of fish we should order..." They returned to the table some minutes later with a large platter of food. There were two orders of plain salted chips with dipping vinegar, an order of cheesy chips, and orders of haddock, cod, and salmon, with several lemon wedges. Harry carried a small dish of pickles.
"Why, you've got yourself a little helper there, Petunia," Dorothy cooed approvingly.
"He is definitely a little helper," Petunia agreed.
"Earns his keep, eh?" Herbert grunted whilst loading up a plate of fried foods. He sounded grumpy and sarcastic. "He'll have to with a scarred face like that. People will think he's no good just looking at him." Petunia bit the inside of her lower lip, reminding herself that she did not show her anger in public.
"He's just a nipper, Dad," Vernon said warningly. "Same age as Dudley."
"And why've we never seen him before?"
"Because it's hard enough taking one toddler to London, let alone two so energetic as these," Petunia said drily.
Vernon joined in her defense. "Quite. The boys are so excited for the match today. Both quite the footballers, played all summer in the back yard."
Marge spoke around a mouthful of chips. "Ah! That explains it. I would've expected a boxing match for your thirtieth rather than football, Vernon, but I can see it's as hard for you to say no to these cuties as anyone else."
"You'll still be teaching Dudley to be a boxer," Herbert instructed Vernon sternly. "Football's well and good for children, but a real man's place is in the ring."
"Course I will, Dad. Dud's going to keep up the legacy at Smeltings. Captain of the team one day, eh Dudders?"
Dudley nodded vigorously, munching on his chips. Petunia was not confident he knew what Smeltings was.
"My dad was on a team in school," Harry said. He froze when Herbert swung vexed attention back to him.
"Football," Petunia supplied crisply before anyone could ask.
"Aww, no wonder he likes the game so much," Dorothy said.
Marge cackled. "Oh no, you can blame Joseph for the boys' football obsession. Petunia's half-brother, you know, from her father's first marriage." Petunia flushed slightly at Herbert's and Dorothy's upgoing eyebrows and pursed lips; she hadn't told them about Severus or about Dad's divorce before. It was poor form for them to find out like this.
Herbert frowned. "Well, so long as he learns the Dursley ways, I suppose there's no harm..."
"In Harry being a Potter?" Petunia finished coolly. Petunia would prefer her father-in-law be irritated with her rather than with defenseless Harry, and she got the distinct impression Herbert wasn't thrilled by the thought of Petunia having additional family around in general. Did he think she would corrupt Dudley's Dursley-ness somehow? Well, that was unacceptable. Petunia had never felt more sympathetic with Lily's decision to desert the family, if Lily had felt like Petunia did now... "My nephew will always be a Potter and an Evans first, Dursley second," she said. "Vernon and I are quite agreed on this."
All three senior Dursleys looked at Vernon, who nodded. Thank God for that man. Petunia arched an eyebrow at him, silently urging him to change the topic of conversation. Fortunately, after nearly seven years of marriage, shared glances were close to becoming entire conversations. Vernon speared another piece of cod. "Speaking of boxing, Dad, did you watch the match last week? What a knockout..."
Lunch progressed easier from then on. Herbert warmed up to Harry slightly while they watched the game, as Harry was perfectly willing to run back and forth to the concessions stand on his behalf multiple times, fetching soda, candy, and ice pops. Petunia let him go alone, since the stand was so close she could watch Harry the whole time and indeed almost make out the conversation with the proprietor. The in-laws all approved of his ability to accurately count money at such a young age. Harry glowed at Marge's praise. "We learned at pre-school, Dudley and me both!" After the game, they had birthday cake at a picnic table in the park, the boys proudly demonstrated their coin-identification and counting abilities with the change in Herbert's wallet, and Vernon opened his presents. Then it was time for everyone to go home.
Dorothy took Petunia aside before they left. "Don't mind Herbert. We both think Harry's a sweet little boy, now we've met him. Almost as sweet as Dudders... You know how Herbert gets when his gout's flared up..."
Petunia neither confirmed nor denied that. Herbert might be struggling through the day because of his gout, but his gout was always his excuse to be always ill-tempered. She resolved not to ever let herself make that kind of excuse for her own family. It helped no one. But it also wouldn't help to fuss about it today. "Perhaps you should take him to the doctor," she suggested sweetly instead. "Lovely to see you, Dorothy. I'll call you sometime about Christmas plans."
"Wonderful." They kissed eachother's cheeks goodbye with false cheer.
As soon as Harry and Dudley had delivered their own goodbyes, Petunia marched them both over to the car and loaded them into the back seat. She breathed deeply in the fall air for a moment, deliberately letting go of as much of her irritation as she could, then got in the car. Vernon climbed in the drivers' seat moments later. She smiled tiredly at him. "Did you have a good birthday, darling?"
Vernon turned the key in the ignition. "Actually, I think I left my favorite things at home this morning," he mused.
"Oh?"
"Peace and quiet, your cooking, and Sev's firewhiskey chocolates."
Petunia laughed at that and kissed his cheek. Vernon's mustache twitched, and he winked at her. She twisted around to look at the boys. "How about you two, did you have a good day?"
"Mostly," Harry answered cautiously.
Dudley had no reservations. "The game was awesome!"
Harry grinned. "Yeah, it was."
"Taking you boys out to your first football game was the best present I could ask for," Vernon agreed.
Petunia sighed contentedly, the strain of the in-laws melting away now that it was just their family again. "Happy birthday, dear. I love you."
Vernon reached over to squeeze her hand. "Love you, too."
"And I love you!" Harry piped up.
"And me!"
"Me more!"
They fell to good-natured squabbling, and Petunia didn't even mind.
Author's note: it would be weird if the grandparents remained completely out of the picture the whole time, even if they do live somewhere else and have health issues. I wanted an excuse to continue almost always leaving the senior Dursleys out of the story, so I decided Mr. Dursley has both gout and COPD, and Mrs. Dursley has heart problems complicated by diabetes and obesity, meaning they don't leave the house much because of mobility problems and shortness of breath, unfortunately. Also, Marge is a perfect blend of her father's overly-judgmental and her mother's overly-saccharine natures. As a side note, while Grandparents Day is celebrated in the fall in both the US and UK now, it wasn't introduced in the UK until 1990.
There will be no update next week as I'm out of town. And then I'm back but going out of town again by the Friday after, so honestly not sure when the next update will be. It'll just have to come as a surprise. Thank you as always for the reviews! They definitely help motivate me to keep writing when I feel like the story is dragging. Let me know if there's any particular cute scenes you'd like to see, and I might be able to work them in...
