A Character Study

She couldn't bear to look at his eyes. That clear, startling green she knew so well belonged on her sister's face, that beautiful face with the frame of red hair she'd envied every day of their childhood. Lily's dead, she whispered, still unable to feel the impact of the words. It had been years since she had seen her sister, and she couldn't quite believe that she wasn't still out there, living her life, whatever it had been.

But the boy was proof. He was sleeping now, next to her son, black hair next to blond, pale skin next to pink. They were nearly the same age- she hadn't known that she and her sister had been pregnant at the same time until after her nephew was born and the courtesy birth announcement card came. She hadn't even bothered to send them Dudley's.

She had never seen him before, save for the picture in the card. She didn't know what she had expected such a child to look like, but his appearance surprised her. He was a baby, he had that baby smell, he was warm, squirmy, and innocent. Now, sleeping, he looked peaceful, cherub-like, except for that ghastly cut on his forehead. She had done what she could, but the mark would probably stay with the boy for life. It was that mark which kept her distance, which allowed her to steel her heart against his baby coos, those little hands reaching out... and those eyes. It reminded her that he was not like Dudley, he was not like her.

He was stirring, starting to whimper. She watched as he dreamed, and wondered what he dreamed of. The letter had told her of the night her sister died, and she knew he had been there for it all. Did the memories linger in his dreams? Dudley never slept nearly as fitfully as this child.

His eyes opened, blinked, and a little fist came up to rub one. He flopped onto his side and turned to look at her. Those eyes again.

He whimpered, but she didn't move. The eyes, so familiar to her, were so round, innocent, pleading. Never had Lily's looked that way, her fierce, independent sister. She had to turn away.

He had pushed himself to his hands and knees now, and was struggling to stand, grasping at the couch, shaking with effort and inexperience. His little face bore a look of concentration as he pulled himself up. He turned to her, and took a tentative, unsteady step.

Heart throbbing, she rose and went to him. Lifting him with considerably less effort than was required for Dudley, she felt a burning in her throat as the little boy grasped her with surprising strength, nuzzling his cheek into her shoulder. "It's alright, Harry." she whispered, barely audibly. "I'm here."

Sudden footsteps on the doorstep started her, and she hurriedly lay the baby down as her husband arrived from work. She went to greet him in the entryway.

"How was your day, dear?" she asked, allowing a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, a big order came in, going to bring a lot of new business to the company, Mr. Grunnings was quite pleased..."

"That's wonderful, dear." she said, not really listening. She could feel the child watching her still.

"There's my little man," Vernon said proudly of his son as the entered the living room. He frowned as he saw the other baby. "The boy didn't give you any trouble today, I hope, Petunia?"

"No," she said, unable to look away from those eyes, her sister's eyes. "The boy was fine."