Innocent Eyes by AineRose
Innocent eyes peered up at her expectantly, rimmed by a pair of too-large
glasses, which slipped down a pale face. These striking emerald eyes were
partially hidden by dark strands of uncontrollable hair, which hid a lightning
bold scar from view. A small hand reached up and tugged her sleeve.
"Aunt P’tunia?"
"Aunt Petunia?"
"AUNT PETUNIA!"
She jumped, startled. "What?" she snapped.
Emerald eyes narrowed in confusion behind their frames, confusion etching its
way across his face. "Uncle Vernon wants you," he mumbled, frowning. "They’ve
run out of burgers."
She blinked several times and moved to the freezer, pulling out another box
of burgers. She turned to face him; the box stretched in front of her, and
paused. His hand had strayed in front of his face and he held it over his scar,
rubbing gently, brow furrowed, as if he had a headache. His head snapped up
suddenly and he grabbed the box from her. She stood there for a minute; arm
still extended into space. Her eyes strayed across his face, taking in the
features of the teenager in front of her.
He was paler than before, and his eyes had lost their sparkle. His hair
flopped in front of his eyes, his scar noticeable through the ebony jungle. He
was thinner too, but a pair of jeans and a T-shirt mercifully hid this. Vernon
had handed him twenty pounds the day before and told him, "Go and buy yourself a
decent pair of clothes for tomorrow. It’s a very important social event and I
want you to behave. And get something normal for Gods’ sake! None of
those dresses that your lot wear."
Harry had rolled his eyes and muttered loud enough for her to hear, "They’re
called robes, not dresses, and we wear clothes underneath…."
He had somehow produced a pair of decent enough jeans and a large, green
baggy T-shirt that, although Petunia would never admit it, brought out his eyes
splendidly. How he managed to buy anything with a mere twenty pounds Petunia
would never know, as it was almost impossible to get a pair of jeans for less
than thirty pounds. She knew this, because she had bought Dudley the finest of
brand clothes.
The boy had become quieter, if that was possible, than the year before. He
had spent hours and days in his room, refusing to eat or talk to anyone. He had
fitful dreams every night, tossing and turning and screaming, waking up the
entire household. Vernon was confused and Dudley was scared. Petunia, however,
had snapped at them, telling them not to breathe a word of it to the boy. If the
boy was right, and Voldemort was back, then she assumed he had lost someone dear
to him, and she would allow him a certain grieving allowance. She accepted the
dreams, even though they brought back memories of when Voldemort at his height
of power, when Lily, home for her summer holidays would suffer from dreadful
nightmares.
Lately though, the boy had seemingly decided to start living life again, and
there would be times when he seemed almost normal.
"Er- Aunt Petunia?"
She snapped back to reality. The boy, Harry was looking at her like she had
grown an extra head. "Give these to Vernon. And eat something! The neighbours
will start talking."
Harry looked like he wanted to give the neighbours something to talk about
but compromised by heaving a heavy sigh and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. As
he was walking into the back garden he paused and turned around to face her. He
surveyed her for a few minutes and then finally said, "Maybe you should take a
rest… maybe you’re dehydrated…"
She glared at him.
"I’m perfectly fine."
"If you say so," he murmured and left, balancing a plate, a box of burgers,
three wineglasses and a bottle of ketchup on his left arm as he tried to open
the patio door. She waited a few minutes and then followed after him. By the
time she had stepped into the harsh light of the sun, Harry was already
manoeuvring himself through the tables, chairs, and happily chatting families.
She made her way towards Vernon to the barbecue but stopped when she saw
Harry talking to him. Vernon shot a glance in her direction and she changed
course. Sitting at the largest table with the rest of the neighbours, she
positioned herself so that she could see everything that was going on around
her. Dudley was sitting at the children’s table with his friends (the parents of
all the children had told them to sit together) beside a pretty girl with long
black hair. She looked about as happy to be there as Harry did, but Petunia
could see that Dudley was giving her lots of attention. He obviously had a crush
on her. Her heart swelled with the kind of pride only a mother could
understand.
They grow up so fast.
She watched as Harry made his way past the children’s table and to a small
table slightly separated from the rest. He settled himself comfortably into one
of the spindly wooden chairs. He stared at the plate in front of him and picked
up his fork. He started to play with his salad, pushing it around his plate,
glaring at it as if it was the salad’s fault he was forced to attend a stupid
neighbourhood barbecue in his relations’ back garden.
Back at the children’s, no, young adults table (she smiled proudly
again) Dudley’s soon to be girlfriend was giggling with her friend. She grabbed
a burger from the large plate in the middle of the table and looked around
again, as if searching for something. She stood up and moved over to Petunia’s
table.
"May I borrow some ketchup, please?" she asked politely.
"I’m sorry dear," One of the women said. "There’s none here."
"Oh, okay."
"Didn’t Harry bring some out?" Vernon asked, coming towards the table with a
plate of fried chicken, sweat pouring down his piggy face. He shook his head. "I
swear to God, that boy…."
"No, no," Petunia rushed to calm her husband before he said something stupid.
"I’m sure he brought it out."
"Oh. Right so," Vernon grunted.
The girl smiled again politely and started towards Harry but one of the other
children grabbed her. "I wouldn’t do that," he warned.
"Oh for heaven’s sake, Chester. What’s he going to do?" she said
sarcastically.
"Potter’s weird," Chester said, simply, glancing fearfully at Harry.
The girl rolled her eyes. "You’re overreacting, you are. And that’s my
chair Piers, get out of it!"
But everyone was nodding their heads at Chester’s comment and glancing
nervously at Harry, who was still playing with his food. He must have felt their
gazes on him because he looked up. Everyone quickly averted his or her eyes.
Harry frowned slightly and then rolled his eyes as he nibbled on the end of a
piece of chicken.
The girl rolled her eyes and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You lot are
mad, you know that? Get out of my chair Piers."
"Why don’t you just eat your burger without ketchup?" Piers said irritated.
"That’s not the point!"
"Well what is the point?"
"For Heaven’s sake, Chester, you are so ignorant."
"Do you fancy him?" Everyone turned to look at the girl’s friend,
Gertrude, who hadn’t spoken before this. She surveyed Harry for a minute.
"He’s not that bad looking really," she said finally. "Tall enough, thin-
maybe a bit too thin- but still looks like he’s got some muscles, hair a bit
messy but that’s sort of cute, a bit pale, nerdy glasses but incredibly sexy
eyes… altogether I’d say he’s pretty fit." The girl blushed slightly.
"I don’t fancy him, Tru, I’m just saying that he can’t be as weird as you all
say that he is. I mean, Dudley lives with him, doesn’t he? It’s not like he’s an
axe-murderer."
"Petunia, dear, can I talk to you for a moment?" Petunia’s head snapped back
towards the voice of her husband. All the neighbours were looking at her
curiously. She flushed and stood up quickly, folding the creases of her dress as
she did so.
"Why of course, Vernon," she said politely. She smiled brightly and followed
him towards a slightly shaded area of the garden.
"What’s wrong?" she asked, nervous.
"Nothing, nothing," he said.
"Then why did you bring me here? And why are you looking at me like
that?"
His beady eyes were following her every move, inspecting her closely.
"Vernon!"
"Sorry Petunia," he grunted. "It’s just that the boy said you were acting,
well, odd. Not that he knows anything about normality, him being as abnormal
as he is but…" He shuddered slightly and then regained his
composure. "He said you were staring at him, daydreaming and such. You’ve never
been one to bother with that imagination rubbish so I was quite concerned. Maybe
you’re coming down with something…maybe you’re dehydrated… maybe there was
something in the salad…"
"For Heaven’s sake Vernon! I’m perfectly fine," she lied.
"But, but, the boy…."
"Since when have you listened to him?"
Vernon coloured. "I do not," he said hotly. "But you were staring into space
earlier. You didn’t touch your food, and didn’t answer any of the questions Mrs.
Patterson asked you, you didn’t partake in the conversation…" He trailed off
uneasily. "I’m concerned, Petunia."
Petunia watched him closely. For the first time ever he seemed genuinely
concerned.
"I-I’m Alright, Vernon. I think I had a bit of a dizzy spell inside. And at
the table…well, I was watching Dudley and all his friends. There’s no reason to
be worried."
"Oh. Right so," he puffed himself up and started to make his way back to the
barbecue.
"Vernon?" He turned around.
"Yes, love?"
"Do" She swallowed nervously, "Do you ever notice how big he’s got."
"Who? Dudders?" He swelled proudly. "He’s a proper man, he’s is. Winning that
boxing title two years in a row! Girls fawning over him-just like his father!
And it seems like it was only yesterday we were bringing him home from the
hospital."
Petunia smiled thinly. "I remember. But, Vernon, I didn’t mean Dudley. I
meant, you know… Harry. Do you ever notice how big he’s got."
"Oh, him," Vernon grunted. "No. Why?"
"No reason. I think I’ll go back to my seat. People will start to wonder
where I’ve gone."
"Right so." Vernon was gone before she had time to blink. She stood still for
a moment, thinking she must be mad. What on earth had possessed her to ask such
a ridiculous question? She sighed slightly, and began the walk back to the
table, where she would undoubtedly be hit by a barrage of questions and
compliments regarding the barbecue. Feeling that she couldn’t take that at the
present time she decided to take a stroll along the garden.
Walking along the stone path (it wouldn’t do to walk on the grass!) she
inspected the flowerbeds meticulously, stooping occasionally to remove a small
leaf or such. In a way, Petunia’s garden represented Petunia herself. Not a
petal out of place, carefully kept, orderly. Petunia had always been, well, the
snob of the family. Everything had its place, and that was where it stayed.
Lily, on the other hand…
Petunia reached the end of the garden, a little corner that she could not
bring herself to tame. When they were children, Petunia’s mother had given them
a small plot of land each. Petunia had grown petunias and roses and hyacinths
and watered the plants as often as she could, she had weeded and fertilised and
raked until her ‘garden’ was perfect. Lily had planted everything she could get
her hands on, not caring if it were hard to care for or not. She had left
everything to grow by itself- the grass grew to her waist, the weeds flourished,
and still, Lily’s ‘paradise’ was more beautiful than Petunia’s. The lilies,
sunflowers and daffodils grew and blossomed and even the weeds were pretty;
daisies, buttercups, and often snowdrops blended in with the rich colours of
red, and blue, and green and yellow. Lily’s garden was full of life- there was
always bees, and butterflies and birds floating through the air. And through the
years the paradise stayed the same, because Petunia could not bear to destroy
it.
As Petunia looked at the paradise, a single butterfly perched itself on one
of the lilies. It was pure white, and Petunia could almost see the Lily sitting
in the grass, wildflowers spread around her, flowers braided in her hair, and a
half-completed daisy chain in her hands, her fingers weaving the flowers
together expertly, while she hummed a soft melody. The birds would chirp along
with her and the sun seemed to come out whenever she sat there. Petunia had
never appreciated this when she was younger, and had decided from an early age
that her younger sister was mentally disturbed- and this was before she
had received that letter and gone to that school and became a
witch.
Petunia turned back to the barbecue, wiping a solitary tear from her eye.
She settled herself back in her chair and went back to listening to Delicia
and the others, who were still arguing over her nephew.
"… Her wig blue. And, remember Dud, when we went to the zoo and he was
talking to the snake! And, he goes to a school for criminals!"
Dudley hadn’t taken part in the conversation but his piggy eyes had been
getting wider and wider throughout the conversation and he was slightly pale. He
made an odd choking sound. Delicia ignored him.
"So what?" She said impatiently. "Lots of people talk to their pets. It’s not
like I’m going up there to propose to him or anything. I’m getting a bottle of
ketchup!"
"Don’t, D- Delicia. Just sit down. I’ll get my mum to get it," Dudley said,
and pulled himself up with tremendous effort. He shot a frightful look at his
cousin who glared at him.
"I can’t sit down because Piers took my seat. And I don’t need you to be my
knight in bloody armour, Big D. Or your mum," she said angrily and
marched over to Harry.
Dudley lowered himself back into his seat, fearfully watching the retreating
figure.
"She’s mad."
"Barmy."
"What do you think he’ll do to her?"
"She’s got guts, that one."
Delicia stopped in front of Harry and took a deep breath. "Er-Hello!"
He looked up from his plate and stared at her for a few seconds. "Hi," he
said slowly.
"Can I borrow the ketchup?"
"Sure," he said with a shrug, and handed her the small red bottle.
She beamed at him.
"Uh, is anyone using this chair? Only Piers Polkiss nicked mine and he won’t
give it back."
Harry shrugged. "Okay, but you’ll have a time trying to sit down anyway.
Where’re you going to put the chair?"
Delicia looked back to the table and so did Petunia. True, there was no space
left for a chair. Petunia noticed that many of the kids were watching them,
though discreetly.
Delicia shrugged and plopped herself unceremoniously into the seat. "I’ll
just have to sit here then, won’t I?"
Harry was looking at her very suspiciously.
"Is this a dare?" he blurted out.
She looked at him oddly. "What?"
"Nothing. It’s just…" He paused. "Never mind."
She shrugged. "I’m Lyssa, by the way."
"That’s a very, er, normal name. I thought everyone here was supposed
to have posh names." He said, a small smile lifting his lips.
She rolled her eyes. "They do. Chester, Dudley, Piers, Hyacinth, Isabel,
Gertrude, Trevor, Emmaline, Joshua." She ticked the names off on her
fingers.
Harry grinned. "I’m Harry. Harry Potter."
Delicia smiled and shook his hand pompously. "Nice to meet you Mr. Potter"
She said grandly. "Delicia Winters at your service."
Harry snickered. "Delicia?"
She moved to slap him playfully but he dodged out of the way. "Shut up! It’s
not funny. It’s plain embarrassing, that’s what it is!"
"I think it’s quite delicious," Harry teased.
Delicia blushed and stuck out her tongue. "That’s just old!" she told
him.
Harry wasn’t paying attention. He was looking at Dudley and his friends, who
were looking at Delicia like she had grown a second head.
"Er-maybe you should go and sit with your friends."
"I told you before, I have nowhere to sit."
"You could always sit on Dudley’s lap," Harry teased, and grinned
wickedly.
Delicia scoffed and flipped her hair expertly over her shoulder. "I’d rather
not," She said calmly.
"He fancies you," Harry said matter-of-factly, his grin widening.
Delicia shuddered. "He’s the size of a small whale. And he’s stupid, and a
bully. He beat up my little brother last week- and he’s only eleven!" (Petunia’s
eyes narrowed)
Harry smiled apologetically and patted her on the hand. "Yeah, I tried to
talk to him about that last year but ended up with a lump on my head." (Petunia
frowned)
"He hit you?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Please, I was his very first punching-bag!"
"That’s terrible!"
Harry shrugged. "It’s not like I’m crippled or anything. I mean, I hate my
cousin and all but I’m not scared of him or anything."
Petunia felt an unusual swell of pride at these words.
I’m not scared of him or anything.
His words echoed in her mind. She thought about all the times she had walked
in on Dudley and Harry ‘playing’ (Harry was nearly always bruised) and felt a
pang of regret that she hadn’t done anything about it. Until now she had ignored
all the neighbours’ complaints about her delinquent son and told them that they
must be mistaken. Her Duddy would never hurt anyone! She knew now that this was
a lie. She could see that Dudley was clearly unpopular around many people,
except for his little gang. She watched Harry a bit more and couldn’t stop the
small smile from spreading across her face. He was so strong! Why hadn’t she
seen it before?
Maybe you were afraid to, a nasty little voice in her head told her.
Maybe you knew it and hated him for it, just like you hated Lily for being
able to be different.
Petunia watched Harry and Delicia converse, teasing and joking with each
other. Harry expertly dodged the question of his scar, telling her that he had
obtained it in the car crash that killed his parents when he was only a year
old.
Petunia rose from the table. Maybe she should take a small rest, perhaps a
glass of water.
Maybe she was dehydrated.
On the other hand, maybe she had finally grown up.
It had been a very odd day.
Finis
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