-AN All rights reserved to JK Rowling.

House: Gryffindor

Category: Drabble

Prompt: Petunia/Vernon

Word Count: 870

"You will NOT expose my grandchildren to those freaks," Vernon Dursley bellowed into the telephone.

Across the room, Petunia sighed and attempted to refocus her attention on the laundry she was ironing. She needed to get the creases just right on Vernon's work slacks and ensure the collars of his shirts were starched just so.

"Listen to me, son," Vernon commanded, "that boy has brought us nothing but trouble since we took him in out of the goodness of our hearts twenty-five years ago. We tried our best to stamp the strangeness out of him, but he was too stupid to accept our gracious help."

Petunia pursed her lips hard to prevent a frown from forming. This wasn't the first time Vernon had tried to stop Dudley from having contact with her nephew and his growing family. While Petunia accepted Vernon's mandates to cease all contact to keep the peace at Number Four Privet Drive, she could understand why Dudley would want to see his cousin.

She had hated Harry Potter just as much as Vernon did for years. The scrawny boy was a constant reminder of an abnormal world that Petunia was doomed to know about, to feel, but never to touch. Though she would never admit it to anyone, least of all to Vernon, she was depressingly jealous of the magical world. When she was a child, she had begged to follow her sister to that school but been denied. She was just normal.

Petunia was pulled from her musings when Vernon growled, "We will not invite that boy back into our home. Christmas is a time for family, and that boy and his lot are not family!"

'No,' Petunia thought to herself, 'Of course Vernon doesn't consider Harry family. He's only the son of my sister.'

She carefully folded the pair of socks that she had just ironed and laid them atop the hamper. As she leaned forward, a strand of hair fell across her face before she slid her hand up to push it back into place. She supposed it was time to schedule another permanent curl appointment at the salon. The hairstyle was in fashion and everyone was wearing their hair that way. It was the standard of beauty and Vernon made it very clear that he preferred her to look that way.

Petunia considered her husband of over a quarter century. Vernon Dursley was the epitome of average. He had an average paying job as the director of a factory. His political views were middle of the road and tailored to match whomever he was speaking to. He drove a mid-size car and their home was median for the area. Vernon's goal in life was to blend in even though his girth prevented him from physically doing so.

That was what drew Petunia to him in the first place, she supposed. She had seen her sister swept away into a magical world where a whole new life awaited her. Petunia longed to follow her but as that odd boy had pointed out all those years ago, Petunia was average and Lily was special. Petunia embraced being average by marrying the most ordinary man she met.

For the most part, Petunia enjoyed her normal life with Vernon. Their life together was stable and consistent if you ignore all the chaos that surrounded Harry. They had a beautiful son who Vernon was currently arguing with.

Dudley was the absolute joy of her life and she couldn't be prouder of the man he had become. Dudley, who had once idolized his father and strove to be just as normal, changed after the Dursley's had been whisked away during the war in Harry's world. He worked harder in school, met a girl at University, and now had two precious children. And from the sounds of the conversation she was overhearing, was still trying to mend fences with his cousin.

"Do whatever you want," Vernon gruffed, "but don't come crying to me when one of his brats hocus-pocuses you into a tea kettle. And use plenty of hand sanitizer so their grubby magicked germs don't give you some weird disease. Or worse, turn you into one of them!" With that, Vernon slammed the phone down onto the holder.

"PETUNIA!" he yelled even though she was standing just across the room.

"Yes Vernon, dear?" she replied in her standard sweet voice.

"Dudley is going to see that Potter boy again," was informed her as though she had not heard his side of the phone conversation.

Petunia sighed, "That's his choice, Vernon. He is his cousin."

"Marge's dogs are more his cousins than that freak," Vernon claimed. "He shouldn't be involved with that type. I wish we weren't involved."

"Of course," Petunia said hoping to but this rant to bed once again. Vernon would never tire of complaining about magic.

"If only your sister wasn't one of them. Then we'd never have dealt with this strangeness," he frowned. "I don't blame you though, dear. It's not your fault".

'No,' Petunia thought, 'it's not my fault. They were special. I'm perfectly normal, thank you very much.'