Chapter Text
There was hardly a day spent with the Dursleys without some sort of commotion unfairly being blamed on Harry. Last week Harry was blamed for it raining and ruining the picnic Petunia had planned. It wasn’t on the forecast, she had sniffed, and sent Harry to work outside in the garden as punishment. “You made it rain, you make it stop” she chided as he protested.
Today especially, Dudley seemed to have it out for Harry.
In truth, Dudley always seemed to have it out for Harry, but today he was insufferable.
He had somehow overheard one of Harry’s nightmares, and was viciously taunting him “Cedric, oh Cedric!” over breakfast, snickering when Harry received a thump over the head from Vernon for trying to retort back.
No, today was not a good day for Harry. His patience against his cousin’s ruthless taunts was wearing thin; he only prayed he could manage to spend another month with the Dursleys before school started again. Letters from his friends helped, surely, but he longed to be far away from Privet drive...away from this house he could never call a home and away from his three most insufferable relatives.
Harry was currently on his knees outside, planting in Petunia’s garden. Hot and sticky, he took a moment to lift his head to catch the breeze, and wiped beads of sweat from his brow. Behind him he heard a car door slam; Vernon must be home already. Harry felt his stomach give a jolt and his mouth water at the thought of dinner coming soon. Petunia was making one of her summer favorites; a strawberry-kale salad drizzled with her “secret” sauce that was just balsamic and oil mixed together. This was not a particular favorite of Dudley’s, but Harry wasn’t as picky. Besides, he had spent the entire day working outside without lunch for trying to trip Dudley.
Harry tensed as he felt his uncle’s looming presence behind him.
“Petunia has you working then” Vernon commented. Harry did not look up or make a move to turn towards the bigger man. His hands tightened into fists and he muttered “Yep”.
Vernon narrowed his beady eyes.
“What did you say boy?, whispered venomously, as Vernon was not one to attract attention outside. No, he would wait until he was inside with Harry to yell at him and give him a good thrashing. Harry’s muscles automatically tensed; and all he could think about was the bruise from last time he decided to speak back to his uncle.
“I mean yes sir” Harry corrected.
He grit his teeth together angrily. Vernon, seemingly satisfied, nodded and walked to the house, whistling.
Half an hour later Petunia stuck her head out of the window and called “Get inside. Now” in her shrill voice. Harry was all too happy to get up from his throne of mud. He looked down at the beautiful array of flowers he had helped flourish, and couldn’t help thinking of his best friend Ron in his home. He bet Ron was off de-gnoming the garden or playing Quidditch with his siblings, not slaving away with the worst relatives in history.