Giving Notice

FAMILY TIES AND TANGLES.

I had to bite back a most un-ladylike phrase as I saw the toaster emitting smoke - Vernon hated having burned toast almost as much as Dudleykins did, bless his heart. Quickly putting on two more slices of bread, I hoped it would hurry up and cook, as I could hear my precious boy coming down the stairs. Home from school again - and almost a man now! So grown up and handsome.

Vernon followed Dudley into the kitchen, and I greeted them while keeping a careful eye on the sausages and bacon. It was Sunday, and diet or no diet, Dudley was going to get a decent treat once a week. What harm would it do, anyway? That school nurse knew nothing of my son.

"Good morning, Vernon sweetheart, good morning Dudleykins! Here, sit down and I'll fill up your plates for you. Your coffee's percolating, Vernon..."

"Uh, Mum..."

"Yes, Dudley dear? Is something wrong?"

"... you've done it again. Set the table, I mean."

"Well, of course I had to set the table, sweetums, or we couldn't eat, now could we..." I trailed off, holding the frying pan and spatula as I turned around. Vernon's place was set, with his coffee mug sitting next to his plate, ready, just the way he liked it. Dudley's place was ready with a gleaming plate, soon to be filled with some nice nourishing food for him, and a glass of juice. My own plate was there, with a few pieces of toast (have to watch the weight at my age, you know.)

And the fourth plate sat there, gleaming at me as if to laugh.

The boy's plate.

"Oh... oh dear." Flustered, I quickly scooped the plate away and turned my attention to dishing out the meat and eggs to my darling hungry men.

They sat and ate, but I saw the uncomfortable look they gave each other. Normally he'd have been home from that dreadful school of his by now, and and much as I loathed to admit it, I was used to it now, especially as it got rid of him for most of the year.

"Boy, get the mail- dammit," Vernon muttered. I glared at him slightly for using such language in front of Dudley. "Even when he's not here, he's - here!"

It was true too. I'd almost banged on the small bedroom's door this morning, out of habit. It was summer. The boy is here in summer. Therefore I can make him work.

But not today. Or any other day.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When that owl came fluttering through the window - at ten in the morning, just last Sunday, in full view of the neighbours who were starting to walk off to church - well, I could have just died. Vernon yelled at it, chased it out the back door, but the noise had woken poor Dudley, who came down in his pyjamas, poor dear, to ask what the ruckus was. Even deaf old Arabella Figg turned up on our doorstep, asking if we needed any help. I was so mortified, I cried. When you come back from that freak school, boy, you'll wish you'd never been born!

Actually, Mrs Figg looked a little like she'd been crying herself. She brushed it off though - "oh, just some sad news dear, nothing interesting for you, just a silly old lady who's found out about the death of... an old friend."

Funny how things stick in your mind like that. If the letter from that awful place had said anything else, I don't suppose I'd even remember that she was sad about someone's death.

Vernon saw my face - demanded to know what was in the letter. I handed it to him wordlessly.

"What is it? What's going on here, Mum?"

"Harry's dead, Dudleykins."

He just looked at me, blinked for a second. "Wait a moment. He's... what?"

"He's dead, son," Vernon added gruffly, having just finished the letter. "The letter's from his headmaster. Seems he was the target of some madman of - of that kind," he added quickly, remembering Mrs Figg's presence at the last moment. "He - Harry - stopped him attacking people, helped catch him - the details are a bit vague here. But-"

"That's enough, Vernon - Dudley's to have no nightmares." I've never spoken that sharply to my husband in my life; then again, it's not every day in your life that you get a letter that basically said, "your nephew was a hero to us, but he hung himself, awfully sorry about that." I didn't know what to say - what to feel.

It was like when Lily died, only... not. I mean, what are you supposed to think when your sister dies, and her baby ends up literally in your lap as you try to feed the crying thing? I was too busy and too in shock to feel anything much.

~*~*~*~*~*~

My memories of her aren't exactly fond. Even as a young child, we were "Petunia and Lily - Mother's darling flower garden." Oh, please. All we needed was a Rose and a Violet and the set would have been complete. She was always everything I wasn't. Prettier, smarter, more popular, our parents' favourite, better liked by the boys. I was briefly vindicated when I found out that she was a witch - only to find out that my parents were proud of THAT, too! And soon she was doing magic here, there and everywhere, while I had to do things the hard way. Pretty soon, instead of "Petunia and Lily", we were introduced to people as "Lily and Petunia".

It wasn't anything she did, really - she was never anything less than a decent sister to me, no matter what I said to her - it was how people reacted to it that drove me crazy! LOVELY Lily, PERFECT Lily... Lily of the valley, who toils not and neither did she spin... she couldn't cook, or sew, or do anything practical that would let her keep a husband! But then, who needs to know how to cook when you can whip up a meal by waving a polished bit of stick? Who needs to know how to sew when all rips and tears can be instantly mended?

Who wants a petunia when they can have a lily?

Vernon did, that's who. He didn't care about my loony, senile parents... he barely even threw Lily a glance. I was the one he wanted.

For once, I was able to beat Lily. I got married before she did. I got pregnant before she did. I gave birth to my son while she was still hiding in maternity clothes. Each of us pretended the other didn't exist, since neither of us was happy in the other's world, and everything was just fine until we found a baby and a long letter - from the same Albus Dumbledore, if you please - nestled on our front doorstep.

And now, sixteen years later, we had the same situation all over again. Only this time, there was nothing left. No child. No personal possessions. Nothing. That side of the family tree had now withered permanently on the vine. We weren't even invited to the funeral. Just notified that it was on and that they'd take care of it.

But then, we didn't want to go to the funeral. Didn't want any of his dangerous magical things. And he ought to have been grateful just to get food and clothes from us, let alone any ridiculous keepsakes like photos and toys. After all, it wasn't as if we had to keep him.

There's a perfectly good orphanage a few suburbs over. We could have used it at any time - discussed the idea many a time, in fact.

But we never did...

~*~*~*~*~*~

Vernon's sitting in the living room, reading the newspaper. Dudley's upstairs playing on his new Playstation - last one got broken in a little tantrum, I'm afraid. I'd better go check on him, just make sure he's okay -

"Petunia?"

I pause with my foot on the bottom step. "Yes, Vernon?"

"I, er..." His face goes red, as it always does when he's stressed or embarrassed. "I never liked the boy, let's get that straight... but he was your flesh and blood for all that. I never wanted him in this house, but I'd never have actually wished for..."

"I know, Vernon. Me, too."

And then I go upstairs to check on Dudley. I never realised how easily teenagers could get depressed these days. I don't want Dudley to end up like Lily's boy... I want him to know Mummy's always there.

Knocking on his bedroom door, I call his name softly. His "come in," is slightly startled, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. Quickly, I push open the door...

To find him sitting on the bed, looking at a beautifully-bound photo album.

"I... I found this in Harry's room. I mean, I guess if - he's not coming back - then I can have that room back, huh?"

"Y-yes, yes... if you want..." My attention is on the pictures. Where did Harry find these? All these years, and I had none...

Not a single one... and now there's a book full of them.

"This is Aunt Lily, right Mum?"

"...Yes. And her husband. And... Harry. When he was a baby."

"Oh... Do wizard photos always move?"

"I don't know. The ones Lily brought home from school always did, though."

"Okay." There was a slight hesitation before Dudley spoke again. "Aunt Lily looks like she was much nicer than Aunt Marge."

"Dudley!" The scolding comes automatically. "Don't say that - what if your father heard? He'd be so hurt!" Secretly though - I can't help it, I'm pleased. Dudley likes my sister better than Vernon's sister.

"But she would have been, wouldn't she? Not so... so... Marge." Now I have to stifle a giggle at the sheer disgust in Dudley's tone. Petunia, get a hold of yourself at once!

Mercifully, Dudley continues without noticing my lapse of etiquette. "I would have hugged Aunt Lily without getting paid - she wouldn't have squished me into her chest and made me sneeze with dog hair all over her." He gives me a sly look. "It was really funny when she was nasty to Harry and he blew her up like a balloon. That's the sort of thing that makes ME wish I was magic sometimes... but don't tell Dad that."

I bit my lip. Lily... what would you have thought of it? Punished him, no doubt, but I bet you would have had a good laugh too. Well, I didn't think it was at all funny... but I suppose that doesn't matter now. Your son's with you, wherever you are... and mine's with me.

"Don't worry, Dudley... I won't tell."

END.

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