Raised Better

1 - A Beginning

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.