Title: Raise Your Glass
Character(s): Petunia Dursley, Vernon Dursley, Dudley Dursley
Warning(s): Alcohol Dependency, Grammar :)
Challenge(s): Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenge – Extra-Difficult Songfic Challenge by Gamma Orionis
Word Count: 1,251
AN: This is a one-shot based on the song "Raise Your Glass" by Pink.
"Take a Right, Vernon." Petunia commanded
"Petunia, the directions clearly state left." Vernon wheezed
"Take a Right." Petunia once again commanded, but Vernon ignored her again and the car went left. All the street lights had gone dark. She'd swear they'd both lost their minds. But it was very clearly printed on thick parchment that sat in her hand that they'd won a lawn competition; a competition that they'd been completely unable to find.
Honestly, them being lost wasn't the worst of the whole situation. But Dudley had passed out in the back seat and was snoring so loudly, she already had a headache; and Harry, her good for nothing wizard of a nephew was home alone. He'd probably blown the entire house up by now. What would the neighbors say?
That question had dictated her life for years. What would the neighbors say? What would they say if they knew the Dursley's paid just so Dudley passed his classes? What would they say if they knew of her drinking problem? Well it wasn't really a problem; it was more of a solution. What would they say if they knew about Harry? It was all just a bloody nightmare.
They soon found their way back to Private Drive, to find the front door blown open, and no nephew to be found. All his bloody school things, even his owl, were gone. Was he behind the Lawn Competition? No, he couldn't be.
"Good for Nothing... Bloody, Ungrateful… Brat…" Vernon shouted nonsense as Petunia got Dudley to his room.
That night Petunia slept a little sounder knowing that only normal people slept in her house, and knowing that in only two short years she'd never have to see the boy again.
5 am, rolled around and the radio blared as a substitute for their alarm. It was some classical orchestra music that made her want to hide. She hated Vernon's music, but it was what a high society man was supposed to listen too. She wished it was the same music from their youth. The rock n roll; the Beatles, she still had a few albums stashed in the basement.
She prepared breakfast while her boys slept, and snuck a large swig of brandy out of the glass bottle in the sitting room. She knew it was wrong, and Vernon and Dudley and the bloody neighbors would be terribly ashamed but in her mind it was right.
She had to put up with the terribly mundane lifestyle Vernon gave her. Starring at the neighbors had become her hobby to see if their habits were worse than hers. Some had worse habits, most were perfect. Like she should be, but even in her perfect house, with her "perfect" husband and child, she was a dirty little freak. People wouldn't talk to her if they knew what when on in her house.
Vernon screaming at Harry, Harry blowing the house to hell, Dudley the ugly fat lump. Dudley, she never would have admitted to producing such a fat ugly lump; except she had too. She loved him, but she wanted a child to be proud of, not the great brute with a pig's tail.
The trip to the hospital in London was horrible, they had to tell the doctors it was a wart that had grown out of control. But her son truly had a bloody pigs tail. What would the neighbors think?
Her weakness started calling the second Vernon and Dudley were out of the house. She grabbed a bottle of red wine, uncorked it and poured a glass almost to the top. What would the neighbors say? You never poured wine up to the top of the glass; it was just bad etiquette.
She spent most of the day on the couch, watching boring soap operas; honestly her life was more of a soap opera that the sad attempts she saw. She just kept raising her glass to her once perfectly painted lips, and setting it back down. By noon she was done with two bottles, her glass had dark red stains from her lips lacing the sides of the glass, but she kept on drinking.
Every raise of her glass, meant one little thing that once again washed away; Vernon's ugly bunions, gone, Dudley's tail, gone, the wrinkles under her eyes, gone. Her life would continue like this, this was the way it was planned to be.
Slam. The door slammed shut as Vernon entered the house. Slam. The door slammed shut as Dudley entered the house. The hot pan of rolls Petunia had been getting fell to the floor, "Damn" she whispered under her breathe. Vernon couldn't hear his perfect wife cursing now could he?
"Petunia, this is a dinner party. What's with all the bloody gaudy decorations?" Vernon's voice rumbled through the kitchen
"It's festive dear." She retorted making a new sheet of rolls.
Vernon grunted in rage and raced upstairs to change. Dudley stood dumbstruck in the kitchen. Vernon would never completely freak out, he just huffed and puffed and never actually blew the house down. Sometimes she wished for the house to just come tumbling down. For the perfect façade of a world to come crashing; so even the bloody neighbors would see.
As they changed Petunia drained a bottle of wine. It was only the second one for today, she should be fine. Guests arrived and she stayed in the kitchen. When the rolls were done she walked into the dining room. She walked to the table, and the wine hit her, she couldn't stop. She dumped the hot rolls all over Vernon's lap and used the table to stop herself.
Vernon turned an ugly shade of red, and Petunia let out a girlish giggle before heading straight back into the kitchen. She had another glass of wine before Vernon rushed into the kitchen.
"Watch yourself Petunia." He growled and they both silently returned to their guests. She felt like a party crasher and it was her own bloody party. This was the life she was supposed to lead, the dutiful wife that answers any and all commands. The wife that doesn't stumble in with hot rolls and dumb them on her husband.
After a few more glasses of wine, she wanted to dance, but dancing wasn't allowed at dinner parties. She wanted to listen to the Beatles and have some fun. But this was a business dinner and it would be kept like business. She swirled her glass on the table and rose it to her lips.
Nothing came, her glass was empty once again. She was afraid of what Vernon or one of his guests would stay if she grabbed for another. So quietly when Vernon was showing pictures of their last vacation. She grabbed Vernon's glass and switched it with her own. No one noticed.
Everyone treated housewives like fools, when in actuality they were so much more. She watched as one of her sons 'gangsta' friends slipped something into her sons pudgy hands. Probably cigarettes, or possibly a joint; hell she didn't care. She was sick of this fancy life, life that no one truly enjoyed.
She'd let it go for years. But she knew how to have fun on her own. She could throw her own party whenever she bloody wanted. All she had to do was grab a bottle of wine, raise her glass, and spin an old Beatles album.
She could be happy, regardless of what the neighbors would say.
AN: I wasn't as happy with this one, it kept trying to go cracky on me; but I tried to keep it canon. Hope you like it :) Let me know :)