(HP) Filling in the Spaces (45/100)
Please see the Filling in the Spaces Chapter List for story details including summary, warnings, etc.
Chapter Forty-Four
Filling in the Spaces
Chapter Forty-Five
With the distraction of trying to get onto the roof without breaking her neck and then Hestia talking about her day, Petunia had nearly managed to put her own concerns out of her mind. Now the feelings of hopelessness come rushing back, and it's all she can do to not start crying again.
She doesn't know what to say, or if she should say anything at all. Hestia faces the threat of death every day; how can Petunia burden her with her own problems? "My husband hates me," sounds so ridiculous when compared to, "I spend my day talking to Death Eaters and hoping no one kills me." So pathetic.
"It's not important," she says instead, looking away.
"Whatever's going on, it's obviously bothering you," Hestia argues. "That makes it important."
Petunia opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. She's never talked to anyone about anything like this before. She's not sure she even knows how. Vernon was always the one she talked to about her worries or problems. Anything she couldn't discuss with him has been so carefully locked inside her for such a long time that the idea of telling another person is terrifying.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Hestia says after a moment. "I don't mean to push you. It's just… sometimes talking helps."
Swallowing hard and firmly focusing her gaze on the snow-covered trees barely visible in the faint glow of the moon, Petunia finally manages to say in a choked-sounding whisper, "I've ruined my husband's life."
"Why on earth would you think that?"
Sniffing and using the back of her glove to wipe away tears that she can't quite seem to keep from coming, she laughs humourlessly and answers, "Pick a reason. Or don't; Vernon seems to be fine with blaming me for all of it." She sniffs again, and Hestia reaches out over the edge over the roof and breaks a small twig from the tree, Transfiguring it into a handkerchief before passing it to her. She accepts it with a quiet, "Thanks."
Hestia frowns, pursing her lips. "I’m sorry, I know he's your husband and you love him, but he's an idiot."
Petunia shakes her head. "No, he's right. He had to leave Grunnings-he's been working there since before I even met him. We very well may have lost our home; I don’t even know if it's still standing at this point. And it's all because of me. He hates me." Dabbing at her eyes again with the handkerchief, she goes on quickly because now that she's started talking, she feels like she can't stop.
"And you know... I know this probably makes me an awful wife, a terrible person, but... I could live with that. I could manage until we get out of here, and things will go back to normal after that. I can survive a year or two of nearly anything. I could...." Her words give way to a small sob, and Hestia continues to listen silently. Petunia can't bring herself to look up; she just hugs her knees closer to her chest. "But Dudley... he shouldn't have to deal with this. He shouldn't see this. He's just a little boy," she finishes.
"He's not a little boy," Hestia says quietly. "He's seventeen.... In my world, he'd be considered an-"
"He's not from your world," Petunia argues in a watery voice. "He's my son."
There's the sound of shifting around, and then Petunia feels a hand rest on top of hers and Hestia's head lean on her shoulder. "Yeah, I know," she answers. After a moment, she adds, "I'm sorry things are such a mess right now."
Petunia sniffs quietly, squeezing Hestia hand. "It's not your fault."
"No, but... still. Sorry."
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Petunia gently reclaims her hand, wiping the last few tears from her face. "We should probably go back inside. Your hands are freezing, and I can't feel my nose anymore."
"I could cast a warming charm or two," Hestia offers.
"No, it's... well, I think I'd like some tea," Petunia quickly answers, shaking her head. She can handle being around magic, she can, she's sure of it, but the idea of having a spell cast on her is mildly terrifying.
"Okay. You want to go first, or should I go so you can see how?" Hestia carefully stands and shuffles along the roof, waving her wand to clear the snow and ice in her path.
Petunia follows her, peering cautiously over the edge. The tree sways ominously in the icy wind. "Two steps," she says more to herself than to Hestia. Eyeing the nearest branch, she takes a deep breath and reaches for it. I can do this, she tells herself. And besides, she suspects Hestia can see her more easily from above than from inside the house, and if she falls, Hestia's magic will have to catch her. "I'll go first," she says unnecessarily, wishing she could manage to climb down without looking actually looking down.
Exactly forty-six seconds later, safely back in the attic and decidedly not dead or injured, Petunia can't help but feel a little bit... proud.
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Four
Filling in the Spaces
Chapter Forty-Five
With the distraction of trying to get onto the roof without breaking her neck and then Hestia talking about her day, Petunia had nearly managed to put her own concerns out of her mind. Now the feelings of hopelessness come rushing back, and it's all she can do to not start crying again.
She doesn't know what to say, or if she should say anything at all. Hestia faces the threat of death every day; how can Petunia burden her with her own problems? "My husband hates me," sounds so ridiculous when compared to, "I spend my day talking to Death Eaters and hoping no one kills me." So pathetic.
"It's not important," she says instead, looking away.
"Whatever's going on, it's obviously bothering you," Hestia argues. "That makes it important."
Petunia opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. She's never talked to anyone about anything like this before. She's not sure she even knows how. Vernon was always the one she talked to about her worries or problems. Anything she couldn't discuss with him has been so carefully locked inside her for such a long time that the idea of telling another person is terrifying.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Hestia says after a moment. "I don't mean to push you. It's just… sometimes talking helps."
Swallowing hard and firmly focusing her gaze on the snow-covered trees barely visible in the faint glow of the moon, Petunia finally manages to say in a choked-sounding whisper, "I've ruined my husband's life."
"Why on earth would you think that?"
Sniffing and using the back of her glove to wipe away tears that she can't quite seem to keep from coming, she laughs humourlessly and answers, "Pick a reason. Or don't; Vernon seems to be fine with blaming me for all of it." She sniffs again, and Hestia reaches out over the edge over the roof and breaks a small twig from the tree, Transfiguring it into a handkerchief before passing it to her. She accepts it with a quiet, "Thanks."
Hestia frowns, pursing her lips. "I’m sorry, I know he's your husband and you love him, but he's an idiot."
Petunia shakes her head. "No, he's right. He had to leave Grunnings-he's been working there since before I even met him. We very well may have lost our home; I don’t even know if it's still standing at this point. And it's all because of me. He hates me." Dabbing at her eyes again with the handkerchief, she goes on quickly because now that she's started talking, she feels like she can't stop.
"And you know... I know this probably makes me an awful wife, a terrible person, but... I could live with that. I could manage until we get out of here, and things will go back to normal after that. I can survive a year or two of nearly anything. I could...." Her words give way to a small sob, and Hestia continues to listen silently. Petunia can't bring herself to look up; she just hugs her knees closer to her chest. "But Dudley... he shouldn't have to deal with this. He shouldn't see this. He's just a little boy," she finishes.
"He's not a little boy," Hestia says quietly. "He's seventeen.... In my world, he'd be considered an-"
"He's not from your world," Petunia argues in a watery voice. "He's my son."
There's the sound of shifting around, and then Petunia feels a hand rest on top of hers and Hestia's head lean on her shoulder. "Yeah, I know," she answers. After a moment, she adds, "I'm sorry things are such a mess right now."
Petunia sniffs quietly, squeezing Hestia hand. "It's not your fault."
"No, but... still. Sorry."
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Petunia gently reclaims her hand, wiping the last few tears from her face. "We should probably go back inside. Your hands are freezing, and I can't feel my nose anymore."
"I could cast a warming charm or two," Hestia offers.
"No, it's... well, I think I'd like some tea," Petunia quickly answers, shaking her head. She can handle being around magic, she can, she's sure of it, but the idea of having a spell cast on her is mildly terrifying.
"Okay. You want to go first, or should I go so you can see how?" Hestia carefully stands and shuffles along the roof, waving her wand to clear the snow and ice in her path.
Petunia follows her, peering cautiously over the edge. The tree sways ominously in the icy wind. "Two steps," she says more to herself than to Hestia. Eyeing the nearest branch, she takes a deep breath and reaches for it. I can do this, she tells herself. And besides, she suspects Hestia can see her more easily from above than from inside the house, and if she falls, Hestia's magic will have to catch her. "I'll go first," she says unnecessarily, wishing she could manage to climb down without looking actually looking down.
Exactly forty-six seconds later, safely back in the attic and decidedly not dead or injured, Petunia can't help but feel a little bit... proud.
Chapter Forty-Six