a/n: This story is one of my newest and I don't really have high hopes for it. :( It's not like I personally see anything wrong with my other stories, more like I don't know what's wrong, but lately I have received little to no reviews. So if you could help me and my shattered morale out, reviews are extremely welcome.
D: If I lived in an alternate reality where pigs flew and the Jonas Brothers were actually able to maintain a fan over 9, then yes, I would own both Twilight and Harry Potter. Unfortunately, I do not believe any of those things will ever come to pass, so as far as I know I am till destined to never own these two works of fiction.
The Dursleys looked with disdain at the small bundle on their doorstep, wrinkling their noses with disgust as it began to cough quietly in the cold. Mrs. Dursley bent down to until she was almost level with the little thing, a vicious scowl formed on her lips as she took in the name on it's little letter. With a careful hand she removed the thick manila envelope, not once touching the blankets of the creature.
"It's him alright," She said acidly as her scowl deepened. "I always knew they would end up killing themselves," She looked down at the bundle once more. "What a pity they didn't all go down in one blow."
Mr. Dursley chuckled quietly at his wife's words and nodded his agreement. "Their kind have no right existing in our world." He said with a cold, maniacal, barking laugh. "It takes up precious air, you see."
Mrs. Dursley snorted out her laughter in loud bursts, causing the sound to echo down the empty drive. "How right you are!" she let out, before calming down her voice to a mere whisper. "But why is it here then?"
"You must be mad woman!" Mr. Dursley hissed, all traces of his humor suddenly gone. "Do you think I have any better idea than you?"
Mrs. Dursley calmly met his steely gaze with one of her own, her evil eyes silently challenging him to yell again. She smiled when her husband gulped and looked away. "Now," She said to her husband, before shoving the thing's letter roughly into his chest. "I strongly suggest you find out."
For a few seconds all that could be heard was Mr. Dursley's grumblings and several soft whimpers from his feet. But then Mr. Dursley let out a monstrous yell of udder shock and rage, effectively turning on a few lights in the neighbor's house.
"By God!" He screamed, tearing the letter in two as he whirled towards his wife. "They want us to take that in!" He jabbed his finger towards the bundle with such ferocity that it began to wail, turning on more lights than Mr. Dursley had. "Quiet you!" He hissed, directing a well-aimed kick at its side, rendering it silent.
"Oh, Darling," Mrs. Dursley said in a mock swoon, clinging to her husband's side in an effort to both calm and control him. "We just can't keep him! My little Dudley would be tainted!"
Mr. Dursley raised an eyebrow at her sudden personality change but let it go with a shrug, he liked this side of her rather better anyway. "We'll just have to call the services then." He said in a gruff tone, looking tone to where the pieces of the torn letter lay. "No matter what this Dumbledoo person says." Then, with a very dutiful air, he marched back into his house with no more backward glances. His wife followed closely behind him, closing the door with a victorious smile.
Leaving the bundle to sniffle in the cold night.
The social worker smiled sadly as he bounced the small child on his lap, watching as the little guy made little noises to entertain himself. In all honesty, he didn't see how anyone could let go of such a happy baby, this guy was worlds above the other babies that had passed through his hands over the years. He never cried, went to bed on time, ate what he was given, and never once threw a tantrum. That was more than the man could say for some adults he knew. . .
"Um. . . Excuse me?"
Startled, the social worker broke out of his reverie with a jolt, turning to face the voice in a speed that, if timed, would have broken several records. Now, normally, the social worker was not a flirt, nor was he in anyway purposely rude to women, but when he saw the woman standing before him all control on his jaw was lost, leaving it hanging wide open in pure shock.
The woman giggled and the sound itself was so soft, so delicate that he immediately closed his mouth, not wanting such a perfect woman to think him rude.
"May I sit here?" She asked, her voice sounding strangely old fashioned. "All the other seats are full and the plane doesn't arrive for another hour."
In a frenzy to fulfill her wish, the man found himself breaking a couple more of his personal records as he rushed to clear the seat next to him, almost depositing the little boy on the floor in the process.
The woman seemed to give the little guy a long, almost wistful look before she turned her attention back to him, smiling brightly. "Thank you so much!" She breathed, taking her seat in one fluid motion before continuing on with a faintly humorous tone. "I can't imagine having to stand for so long."
"No worries," He said breathlessly, taking in the pale beauty beside him with an almost reverent awe. She didn't seem to be paying much attention to him though, as she seemed almost completely enthralled with the little somebody currently sitting on his lap. After a minute or two she seemed to realize he had spoken and lifted her honey brown eyes in such a way that, even though none appeared, made him think she was blushing.
"Sorry," She apologized in a sweet voice. "But, if I may ask, what's his name?"
His shoulder's slumped for a moment as he mulled this over. The agency had mentioned it this morning when he had first been given the little boy to look after, but the name itself now escaped him. All he could really remember was that it started with an H.
"Henry?" He questioned to himself before shaking his head. "no. Harvey? No, that's not it." Suddenly it popped into his head and he seemed to make a sort of un-manly squeal of delight, before he realized it and covered it over with a cough. "Harry" He confirmed to the woman, "His name is Harry."
"Is he not your's then?" She asked, obviously getting that most parents knew their children's names.
"No!" He said in an embarrassed splutter. "I'm just the social worker here!" He let out in defense.
The woman giggled and put here hands up in a playful show of defense. "I get it. I get it." She laughed. "Is that why you're going to New York then?"
He nodded. "There's a family coming to take a look at him there, I hear they're from the state of Washington."
"Oh! Washington!" The woman let out in happy recognition. "It really is a beautiful place." She leaned down to whisper in Harry's ear. "I'm sure you'll love it there."
"Flight 217 to New York City, Flight 217 now boarding first class passengers." The intercom sounded, stopping him from saying anything in reply.
"Well that's me," She smiled and tickled Harry under the chin, "Enjoy your flight!"
"You too. . ." He stopped, realizing he had never learned her name.
"Alice Cullen," She supplied proudly, giving him another smile and a wave as she walked away.
He tried to contain his disappointment when he saw the flash of the wedding ring on her finger.