Stolen Time

Harry knocked on the door of Aaron and Dudley's flat. There was an air of abandonment about it. The flowerboxes, usually full of brightly colored blossoms, were limp and bedraggled. Harry rubbed the back of his neck, an ear cocked to the door, listening for the quick patter of Sarah's footsteps or the heavier thud of Aaron's. He raised his hand to knock again, not wishing to use the doorbell, knowing its shrill tones would shatter the fragile tranquility inside. Just as Harry drew back his fist, the door opened and Sarah threw her arms around Harry. 'Uncle Harry!' she exclaimed softly. Harry gently returned the young woman's embrace. He drew back slightly and tipped up her chin, noting Sarah's red-rimmed eyes, circled by dark shadows, her olive complexion paler than usual. Her tumble of glossy curls had been wound into careless plait.

'How is it?' Harry asked, following Sarah into the dark flat.

Sarah motioned for Harry to follow her into the kitchen. 'I'll make you some tea,' she said over her shoulder, her voice muted. 'Abba's sorting through some paperwork to make sure everything's in order, in case...' Her chin wobbled, but Sarah savagely bit her lip, bringing her emotions under control. She exhaled deeply through her nose. 'When,' she corrected, with a sigh. 'Dad is sleeping, but he might be awake soon.' She gestured to the scrubbed wooden table, and Harry folded himself into one of the ladder-backed chairs, grimacing slightly as his left knee creaked a bit. Sarah busied herself with the kettle and the old Brown Betty, boiling water, spooning tea leaves into the teapot.

Harry leaned back in the chair. 'How are -you?'

Sarah wiped her hands on a tea towel. 'I've been better,' she replied, the corner of her mouth briefly tipping up in a wry grimace. 'I think we've got some biscuits somewhere. Aunt Ginny came by a few days ago and dropped off some food,' Sarah murmured indistinctly, turning to rummage in a cupboard. 'Ah... There they are...' She emerged with a tin and pried off the lid. Harry interrupted her, as Sarah reached for a plate.

'Don't bother with the niceties. He winked conspiratorially. 'It's just the two of us, and I won't tell anyone that we ate biscuits out of the tin if you won't.' Sarah set the tin on the table near Harry's elbow. She poured boiling water over the tea leaves and added the teapot to the table. Sarah fetched a couple of mugs and asked, 'Milk or sugar?'

'Just sugar,' Harry replied, picking up the teapot to swirl the contents. Sarah joined him at the table with a pair of mugs and the sugar bowl.

'Just as well,' Sarah sighed. 'I'm not sure how old the milk is and neither Abba or I have thought about going to shop for food.' Harry poured tea for them both, and Sarah added several lumps of sugar to her tea. 'It's been awful,' she admitted quietly. 'Abba's buried himself in work. If he's not making sure Dad's affairs are in order, he's making sure his own are. Or he's taking care of Dad. He's constantly puttering around, doing nothing, but thinking he has to do something. I don't think he sleeps much, if at all. If he does, it's in the chair next to their bed.' Sarah paused to take a sip of her tea. 'When Dad first got sick, Abba was in denial, you know,' she murmured. 'Now, he's so busy trying to ensure all the I's are dotted and the T's crossed, that he hardly spends any time with Dad when Dad's actually conscious.' Sarah scrubbed her hands over her face. 'And nothing I say seems to penetrate Abba's thick skull.'

'Who has a thick skull?' Aaron absently wandered into the kitchen.

'No one, Abba,' Sarah said, already half out of her chair. 'Would you like some tea?'

'That would be lovely, dear.' Aaron peered around the kitchen, starting in surprise when he saw Harry sitting at the table. 'Harry, how long have you been here? Forgive my lapse of manners...'

'Only a few minutes,' Harry told Aaron, who nodded in a vague sort of way. Harry cradled his mug of tea between his hands, studying the other man. Even well into his sixties, Aaron generally had paid careful attention to his attire, his greying hair neatly trimmed. Today, there was no other word for it: Aaron was disheveled, clad in a shirt that had not come from his own wardrobe. It was far too large. Harry surmised it was one of Dudley's.

Sarah returned to the table with an empty mug in one hand. 'Abba, sit,' she urged.

'But I've got...' Aaron gestured with the paper he clutched in one hand.

Sarah tugged the paper from his hand and replaced it with the mug. 'It can wait for five minutes while you have something to eat. I'll warm up some of the soup Aunt Ginny left with us.'

The crystalline sound of a bell's tinkle floated into the kitchen. 'Dad's awake,' Sarah told Harry. 'Abba! Let Uncle Harry see to Dad,' she scolded. 'You'll be no use to Dad if you make yourself ill.' She glanced at Harry. 'Go on. He might be thirsty. There's water next to the bed. Or apple juice.'

Harry crept down the corridor until he came to Aaron and Dudley's bedroom. He almost didn't recognize the man tucked into the bed. Dudley was painfully thin. A wooly hat covered his head, in spite of the summer heat, and it was obvious that Dudley had lost all his hair. Dudley stared out of the window that overlooked the back garden. 'Hey, Dudley,' Harry said softly. 'You up for a bit of company?'

Dudley's head turned on the pillows stacked behind his head, and a slow smile spread across his face. 'Sure.' Harry tried to walk as soundlessly as possible to the chair next to Dudley's side of the bed, making Dudley wheeze with weak laughter. 'Don't feel like you have to tiptoe,' he rasped.

'Sarah said you might want something to drink?' Harry's hand hovered over the glass of water sitting on the bedside table.

Dudley shook his head. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course.' Harry eased into the overstuffed armchair.

'Are you scared to die?'

'No,' Harry said truthfully, knowing what waited for him in death. 'Do you remember the headmaster from Hogwarts? He came Privet Drive to take me to school when we were sixteen.'

Dudley slowly blinked, and the image of Albus Dumbledore swam into his memory. 'Yeah.'

'He once told me death is just the next great adventure. Considering how often I've nearly died, I'm inclined to believe him.'

'Hm,' Dudley grunted.

Harry gazed at his cousin curiously. 'Are you afraid of dying?'

Dudley's teeth bared in humorless grin. 'If I were, now would be a bad time to admit it. Since I am dying.' Dudley carefully shifted in the bed. 'I'm not really scared,' he sighed. 'I haven't led a bad life, not since I was seventeen. Is there something after death?'

Harry stretched his feet out and slouched into the chair. 'I honestly don't quite know for certain,' he admitted. 'Maybe it's a fantasy my brain concocted to cope with the possibility of dying. Or perhaps it was real. Either way, it wasn't frightening. It was rather comforting, really.'

Dudley nodded once and his eyes closed. He was still for so long, Harry thought Dudley had slipped into unconsciousness once more, when Dudley's eyes flew open, blazing with a determined light. 'Aaron,' he said shortly. 'He hasn't got any family. Other than a few of his brother's kids who come round a few times a year, but other than Sarah, he hasn't got any family,' Dudley continued breathlessly. He fixed Harry with his bright gaze. 'Will you look after the two of them? Aaron and Sarah? Promise me?' he begged.

Harry leaned over and laid a hand over Dudley's. 'Don't worry another minute about them. They're always welcome and Ginny and I will look after Aaron and Sarah.'

The physical energy the Dudley had seemed to dredge up from somewhere deep inside suddenly melted away and it seemed as if it left him a bit more shrunken than before. 'Thank you,' he whispered.

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A/N: Abba means "father" in modern Hebrew.