Proud

The morning had started so routinely. Just the way any morning should, in Vernon Dursley's humble opinion. He'd woken up just past nine (as it was a Sunday, and not a work day). And since it was such a regular day, he knew before even opening his eyes, his wife, Petunia, had gotten up at least an hour - if not three - ahead of him to go see and care for their infant son, Dudley.

In fact, he could remember as he rose out of bed the sound of his son's happy squeals coming from downstairs. Having smiled at the thought of his excellent specimen of a boy, Vernon went through the rest of his regular routine; washing his face, combing his hair and brushing his teeth before putting on fresh change of clothes and going see his wife and child in the kitchen.

Walking in to the homely kitchen, the man went over and pecked a kiss on his wife's blond head. "Morning, Pet," he greeted.

"Hello, darling," Petunia returned as she turned around to smile at him.

Small eyes darting around, he asked, "Where's breakfast? It's Sunday and we always have sausage and eggs."

"Yes, yes," his wife agreed. "I just...I've just had a bit of a headache this morning, is all," she explained. "I've been waiting to see if a bit of tea would help it along - we didn't have any panadol, you see."

Frowning, Vernon had put on his most sympathetic look as he wrapped an arm around his wife's middle and rubbed her stomach. "I'm sorry, Pet, you could have woken me earlier, if we're out, I would have gotten some...I'd do anything for you and our little one."

"How sweet," Petunia cooed. "But don't trouble yourself Vernon. Let me just go get cleaned up and I'll pop over to the shop to get some myself. You don't mind washing up Dudley, do you?"

Casting his son, whose face was covered in some kind of orange goo, a wary look, he asked, "That doesn't stain, does it?"

"Of course not!" his wife exclaimed with some amusement. "You don't think I'd want him ruining my clothes either, do you, dear?"

Chuckling at her sound logic, Vernon nodded and went over to the sink to get a rag and said, "Hurry along, now, I'm quite eager for those eggs."

"Yes, dear."

Taking to the task with a bumbling efficiency, after about fifteen minutes, Vernon stood back and puffed out his chest with some mild pride. His son, while grumpy looking with his blond locks matted wetly to his head, was clean. Returning to the tap, the man wrung out the rag and hung it to dry between the two sides of the sink and then went back to collect his son from the highchair.

Bouncing the baby, he grinned, "There ya are, m'boy. You're all clean!"

"Dadada," Dudley muttered unhappily as he squirmed to cling to his father's collar.

Grinning fondly at his son, Vernon was struck by a sudden realization. His wife had not come back down the stairs at any point while cleaning up their son. Yes, women always took longer to "clean up", but Petunia was usually quite speedy about it - especially when it was just for a quick trip to the pharmacy and back.

Going to the steps, he called, "Dear?"

No answer.

Frowning, Vernon continued to bounce his son, though, much slower and in a fairly absent way, as he took the steps one by one and called twice more "Pet? Darling?"

When there was no reply again, he went to their bedroom and when he found it devoid of his wife, but saw the adjoining bathroom door closed, Vernon bustled in. "Petunia?" he half-shouted at the door. When there was nothing but silence on the other side, he started knocking. Just like his shout, that received no answer either.

Grabbing the handle, he gave it a twist and felt relief when he realized his wife hadn't locked it. But that relief quickly turned to horror at what he found on the other side.

On the ground, in nothing more than a slip, was his pretty wife sprawled out, her face smeared with blood.

"PETUNIA!" he hollered, causing his son to begin bawling instantly. "Oh, oh," he panted, looking between his son and wife. Finally, Vernon went and put his son down on the floor outside the room and closed the bathroom door again. "You stay right there, Dudley," he told his son. "Stay in the bedroom while your Dad calls an ambulance, alright?"

Hurrying to the hall, he grabbed the phone from the side table it rested on and pushed nine three times in rapid repetition and waited with all the patience of a gnat as it rang once, twi-

"Hello, what's your emergency?"

Vernon couldn't have been more unhelpful if he tried in telling the dispatcher what he needed to know.

-v-v-v-

"A brain aneurism?" he repeated desolate.

Sympathetically, the doctor who'd pronounced his wife and unborn child dead at the hospital nodded. "Yes, sometimes these things happen, you see and - I'm just very sorry, sir."

Eyeing the young, scrawny man, Vernon demanded, "Are you sure you did everything you could for my Pet?"

"Yes, we followed every procedure to a 'T', Mister Dursley. Now, is there anyone I can get a nurse to call for you? A sibling or parent, perhaps? This isn't the place for your son, wouldn't you agree?" he inquired, looking pointedly to Dudley, who was snoozing against his side.

Still distrusting of the doctor, but finding himself agreeing that a hospital wasn't the place for his boy, the man nodded. "There's my sister, Marge..."

And it was as he gave his sister's phone number that Vernon was struck with a sudden and terrible realization. His normal, proper life was over. Without Petunia, he was a widower and his son motherless and even a new wife and mother for Dudley wouldn't fix the fact the first woman he ever cared for was dead.

Lip quavering, he didn't object to the nurse who came by and suggested that she take his son for a stroll. Alone then, Vernon didn't stop himself from crying.

It was far from manly, but damn it, his wife was dead!

-v-v-v-v-v-

A loud knock resounded from the front door.

Upstairs cooing at her nephew as he played with his rubber ducky, Marge Dursley turned her head toward the open doorway of the bathroom. "How strange..." she murmured, "For me to hear it all the way upstairs." Shrugging the oddity off, Marge tickled her nephew below the chin and asked the baby, "Did you like your second Halloween, Neffy-poo?"

Dudley smiled and babbled, "Aun', duck! Aun' duck!" holding up his toy for her to see.

Another knock floated up the stairs.

Sighing, Marge threw down the flannel she'd been sudsing up to wash Dudley. "Vernon! Can you get that please? I'm giving my Neffy Poo a bath!" Marge hollered.

Downstairs, Vernon began to grumble. "If it's some salesman, I'm slamming the door in his face! It's not proper for one to be knocking at doors so late!"

Putting his paper aside, he ambled over to the front door and opened it. There was no one. "Hello?" he called. No one replied and feeling his face heat up at the thought of this being some late night Halloween prank, Vernon readied himself to start shouting when a quiet rustling sound caught his attention.

Looking down, Vernon blinked. It was a baby. Frowning deeply, the man wondered about the person who had left it there. This wasn't some old time novel, just leaving a baby on a doorstep was asking for trouble. Peering around in the darkness, Vernon sighed in annoyance when he could spy no one hiding in the shadows or behind bushes. Looking once more to the baby, he decided it was best he brought it into the house.

If nothing else, he could call the police in the morning. Reaching down, he picked up the child up from the basket it was settled in. A gust of October came through swiftly, causing the blankets the baby had been laid in to flutter as well as knock loose a piece of paper from the folds. Watching the paper blow away, Vernon considered putting the baby back down and running after it.

In the end, he decided against it. It was probably just some bloody excuse for why the child's bitch of a mother abandoned it on his doorstep. Vernon knew if it was such an excuse, it wouldn't help the child any as they grew up. Chances were, even if the mother waxed poetic about how out of luck she was or incapable of caring for her child right now, she wouldn't ever be coming back. It'd be better if the baby didn't hold onto such an impossible hope as its mother's return.

Stepping into his home and closing the door, Vernon stared at the child for a long moment. Something was familiar about the baby - a boy, if his blue sleeper was anything to go by. He looked sort of like-

Juggling the child into one arm he murmured, "That birth announcement!"

The baby with his black hair and chubby cheeks reminded him very much of that birth announcement Pet's sister had sent her a little over a year ago. He remembered it quite vividly as he recalled handing it to her when it'd come in the mail. Vernon had asked if she planned to write back and see about setting up a meeting between their boys. After all, with their Dudley and her sister's baby so close in age, they could have grown up as good mates.

Petunia had snapped at him that she had no plans to and had thrown the announcement in the box under their bed that she kept all things from her sister in.

Vernon had left it well enough alone after that.

But now...

Stomping up the stairs, he ignored his sister's call of, "Who was it, Vernon?" And went straight to his bedroom. Setting the sleeping baby on the bed he made sure he wasn't going to roll off and pulled out the box.

It was a simple one, the type of box usually used to keep mementos in. Pulling off the lid, he shifted through a little bit of the papers and trinkets. When he found what he'd been looking for, he made a noise of pleasure.

Placing the photo in his line of vision along with the baby, Vernon nodded. Yes, this did look like the same baby. The baby was just a little older and a little less pink. But, the black hair and cheeks were just as they'd been a whole year ago. However...he pushed back the boy's fringe. There was an angry red wound on the baby's forehead.

"Looks a little like a lighting bolt..." he muttered.

How odd.

The quiet sound of footsteps on carpet alerted Vernon a moment later that he wasn't alone. Spinning around, he looked to see Marge with his son in her arms. "Who was it, Vern?"

"I'm not sure, actually, but they left us a...surprise," he concluded with a derisive snort.

Marge followed his gaze. "A baby?" she muttered.

"Not just any baby, either, but Petunia's sister's baby-" he looked to the announcement, "Harry."

Jogging Dudley, the strong-jawed woman asked, "What are you going to do with him?"

Vernon shrugged as he ran a hand over the boy's head. What was he going to do? Evidently, the bad crew Petunia said her sister ran with had led to her abandoning her son. Or, maybe, she and her husband were dead and their group had decided to drop the baby off here because they didn't want him.

That made him frown. He didn't really want Harry either. But...Thinking of the second child he lost along with his Pet, Vernon wondered if he couldn't raise him as such. Harry could be his second son and surely Petunia would have approved of that? Family was family in the end. No matter how shameful his circumstances, Harry was her nephew and Vernon couldn't help but think she'd want to keep Harry and raise him just because of that.

Maybe, with the guiding hand Vernon could provided, the boy would grow up to be somebody halfway decent - unlike his mother.

"I'm keeping him, I suppose. Petunia wouldn't have let him go into the system and he is Dudley's cousin. Family should stay with family." Musingly, Vernon played with his mustache. "It's no wonder Pet always backed out on us meeting her sister at the last minute. Look what her sister or maybe, her sister's friends did with the poor lad - leaving him on my doorstep! What if you hadn't heard the knocking? He could have died of exposure!"

Marge's face twisted with displeasure. "You plan to keep him?" she hissed.

"Yes," Vernon replied in confusion. "It's as I said, Marge, he's family."

Putting Dudley down and ignoring how he whined to be picked back up, the burly woman crossed her arms. "I've come to help you with Dudley as a favor, Vernon. He's my nephew and I wanted to help both of you out and make things easier. I did not sign up to be the caretaker of your waspish wife's nephew as well!" she told him angrily.

Vernon, who loved his wife even now, could not stand his sister insulting Petunia. "Do you have no respect for my wife? For the dead? I can't believe you, Marge! Insulting her!"

The woman turned her nose up in a superior manor as she said in a prim, righteous voice, "I haven't said anything that wasn't true."

"Petunia was a sweet woman and she loved both myself and our son, if anyone is waspish, it's you!" he countered.

Eyes flashing, Marge snapped, "Very mature, Vernon!"

"No, don't start taking the high ground on me now and acting like I'm the one who began this all! Marge, if you don't want to be here, you don't have to! I never asked! I just accepted your offer to stay after the funeral for Dudley. I thought it would be good for him to have a familiar person around in lieu of his mother. If you don't want to treat Harry as what he is - family - you can leave!"

Nostrils flaring, Marge shouted, "I will! Goodbye, Vernon! Have a nice life!" And without another word, Marge Dursley turned around and stalked out of the bedroom, leaving a crying Dudley, sleeping Harry and shocked Vernon behind.

Sighing heavily, he went and picked up his son. Holding him close, he then moved to take a seat next to the stirring Harry on the bed. Petting Dudley's feathery locks, he did his best to sooth his crying son as he ran a hand down Harry's cheek.

"You're already trouble," he grumbled to his nephew. "...But that doesn't matter, you're staying. It's what Petunia would have done, I'm sure," he muttered as Dudley's wails died down into sniffles.

Pulling Dudley off of him, he laid the toddler beside his smaller cousin. His son gave a tired cry, reaching for Vernon. Making a low shushing noise, he began to gently rub the toddler's stomach until he nodded off beside Harry.

Hearing the front door slam a moment later, Vernon buried his face in his hands.

"I'm going to have to hire a nanny," he told himself.

While Vernon wasn't happy about the idea of a stranger caring for his son and Pet's nephew, he knew he had little choice. It wasn't like Marge was going to take proper care of Harry. In fact, he wouldn't put it past her to try and find a way to get rid of him. He might come home one day to find out she'd left him at the market or a department store - anything to get rid of what she obviously thought was rubbish and a burden on him and their family.

Looking over the sleeping boys one more time, Vernon took a deep breath and looked skyward. "Help me, Pet," he begged.

Vernon picked up his nephew and sighed gravely. He knew already that the baby was going to give him trouble, but it's for his late wife that'll he keep the runty thing around.

AUs where Harry gets raised differently than canon are always fun, aren't they?

I've had this story rattling around for a while and this first chapter half-written out for ages. I suspect this will probably end up being way longer than the three or four chapters I want it to be. Though, I suppose I won't really know for a little while yet as most of the rest of the story is still in its draft phase. It could be a bit before the next chapter is ready.

So, in the meantime, maybe some of you would like to read a few of my other AU pieces with Harry?

Hard Wrought Joy: "Molly always wanted to have children, but when the unthinkable happens, her path to motherhood takes a twisting, winding turn."

or

The First Day of a New Life: "Seldom does something take seconds to change; most times it is more, other times, eons more, yet when things do alter themselves within a span of a breath, they fall to pieces so completely, in such away, that they can never mesh back into what was the past. All they can do is become the future."

Thanks a ton for reading and please review!