"Are you sure you don't want to come with, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked as he finished packing away the allowance he'd given him for his school supplies in his pocket.

Vernon shook his head. "I have work, as you know," he reminded the boy. "You just listen to Professor McGonagall, you understand?"

The boy bit his lip. "…You took off time to take Dudley shopping," he said petulantly.

Vernon felt his head begin to throb as he glanced to the woman who was to accompany Harry on his shopping trip. He didn't like being made out to be a poor uncle in front of his nephew's future professor. Knowing that his face was turning red with his anger, he reminded himself to count to ten before saying, "That's because I couldn't expect Nanny Whitmore to know where the best places to shop for the things Smeltings's requires, could I, Harry?"

Harry looked to his toes.

Taking his silence as agreement, Vernon gave a forced chuckled before reaching out to give the boy's hair a tousle. "You'll be fine without me, lad."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry whispered. His eyes had the same glossiness Petunia's used to hold when she was disappointed, Vernon noticed. Shifting his own gaze away to ease the guilt now building in his heart, he met Professor McGonagall's stare - only to find it judging.

Resisting the urge to bare his teeth and demand who she thought she was, to look at him as she did, Vernon said through a false grin, "Thank you for taking Harry school shopping. I wouldn't have had the faintest idea where to begin with that list."

"You're welcome," the woman replied crisply. "Let us leave, Harry. If we go now, we'll have to deal with less crowds today."

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry consented.

Seeing them off, Vernon watched the pair walk down the street and disappear around a corner. Sighing once he was sure he was alone, he whispered, "Thank heavens."

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"Magic still upsets you, does it?" Mrs Whitmore, from somewhere in the living room, asked.

Wincing as he turned to face her, Vernon was relieved in part to see that she was not looking at him, but in the process of straightening the pillows Petunia had long ago chosen for their sofa. "I… well, yes."

Shifting then, the woman sent him a sympathetic smile as she moved on to re-stacking Dudley and Harry's comics on the coffee table. "I feel a bit badly, these days," she admitted. "All these years I just thought Harry was a stubborn, mischievous boy who didn't know when to tell the truth…"

"You're not one who went mental and once locked him in a closet when he did some of that accidental stuff," Vernon huffed.

Mrs Whitmore stood up and gave him a long look. Unlike McGonagall's judging stare, however, there was something truly warm and motherly about it. "It was a bad decision, Mister Dursley, but I've been with your family so long that I know you've done Harry more good than harm."

Vernon sighed. "You're too kind, Mrs Whitmore," he said.

Bustling past on her way to the laundry room, she declared, "Nothing I said wasn't true."

Chuckling as she disappeared from view, Vernon thought of the sad eyes Harry had given him before he left. Just the thought of them made him feel more poorly than McGonagall's disapproving had.

At this point, Vernon hoped, by the time Harry came home, his exciting day would help him forget that Vernon had hurt him once again.

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After Harry brought home all his odd and, sometimes, worrisome school supplies (including an owl!), the rest of Harry and Dudley's last summer before boarding school went quickly.

Vernon took more time off from work than he ever had before, attempting to get in as much quality time with the boys before they changed for the worst with the beginnings of puberty. To appease his guilty conscience, Vernon even spent a single day out with just Harry.

The lad had smiled the entire time they were together.

And now, here Vernon was, saying his final goodbye to his nephew.

"Behave yourself while you're there, Harry," he told the boy.

Green eyes solemn, Harry nodded. "Yes, sir," he agreed.

Scuffing his feet, Vernon asked, "So, did Professor McGonagall tell you how to get to this Platform nine and three quarters?"

The boy's face flickered with a smirk. "Yes, she told me," he answered.

"Ah, good, good…"

Harry shifted, letting go of his trolley he asked, "Uncle Vernon?"

"Yes?" Vernon replied.

"Are you… you'll miss me, right? As well as Dudley and Nanny Whitmore?" Harry questioned, face anxious and wringing his hands like Petunia did each time she waited to find out if she was pregnant.

Vernon frowned, not sure why this was an issue now. "Why are you asking? It's a rather dumb question," he said. Vernon meant it too, after all, shouldn't it be obvious he'd miss them? All parents (or uncles) missed their children (or nephews) when they left home. "Anyway, you don't have to worry too much, okay, lad? Nanny Whitmore will be coming by once a week to clean the house. I promise I'll be fine. You just have a good time at school, do well, and stay out of trouble."

Shoulders having slumped and gaze now on the ground, Harry replied, "Yes, sir."

Giving the boy's shoulder a pat he told Harry, "Off you go."

Nodding once, the lad re-gripped his trolley and went to find his platform. Watching Harry disappear into the wall with a family of redheads, Vernon felt both relieved and guilty. He was happy that Harry and his troublesome nature was no longer his problem, but he felt badly about thinking such a thing about the boy. This was his Petunia's nephew. The boy he'd raised from a baby. Surely, after all these years, his first thoughts upon seeing him off should have been similar to the ones he'd had for Dudley?

Shouldn't he be going through the same myriad of loss, pride and joy?

Not this - this explosion of relief, joy and shame?

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Very early the next morning, as Vernon came down to his kitchen for the first time in ten years without having to wake the boys first, he noticed an owl sitting at the window. Nearly leaping across the room in his haste to get to it, Vernon opened the letter and snatched it from its beak.

"Next time wait in the bloody tree or something! What must the neighbors think of this!"

The snowy creature only gave a displeased twitter. Obviously it didn't like being scolded. Opening up the letter, Vernon skimmed the contents and felt his stomach drop when he saw that Harry had been sorted into the house of his parents.

Gryffindor, the home of the brave, daring and noble.

God, wasn't this just awful news? The home of the daring? Harry would always be in trouble with a place that endorsed something like that! Looking to the owl, he told it, "Go on, go home. I'll send him a letter through the proper means."

As if to get him back for his earlier chiding, the bird gave a shrill shriek before setting off for flight. Wincing as he rubbed at his ringing ears, Vernon hoped that the neighbors didn't realize that terrible noise had come from his home.

The last thing he wanted to deal with was suspicious looks and questions.

Setting Harry's letter aside on the counter, Vernon went about getting ready for work and when he realized he had half an hour to spare upon finishing, he took the time to crack open a novel for the first time in years. It was amazing and Vernon began to ponder what else he'd have time for now that the boys were gone.

Vernon remembered, when he was younger, before Petunia had died, he used to go out once a week to a pub with his coworkers and share a pint. And before he'd met Pet, Vernon had once in a while liked to go out with friends to bowling alleys for a game. Maybe, with all this spare time, he'd have to start doing those things again.

If only to have something to do beside whittle his fingers in the comfort of his childless home.

A while later, when Vernon left for work, Harry's letter was still in the back of his mind. However, by the time he came home, it was long forgotten when he saw he'd gotten a letter from Dudley in the post.

It wouldn't be until a week later, when he found Harry's note beneath the water bill, that he remembered Harry had written him. Overwhelmed with shame at having forgotten all about his nephew's letter, Vernon took several more days to write Harry - the mortification of having forgotten inhibited from writing the lad a coherent reply.

By the time he sent it off, Vernon hoped that Harry would be able to forgive him.

When Vernon didn't get a reply until almost Halloween, he knew no one was to blame but himself.

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Seated across from each other at the kitchen table, there was silence as Vernon and Dudley ate their breakfast. It was quite pleasant, Vernon thought. He'd grown used to the quiet since his boys left at the beginning of the school year and this slight change in routine, with his son across from him, munching softly on his toast was an experience he'd not soon forget.

However, the silence was broken abruptly when Dudley inquired, "Dad?"

Looking up from the paper he was reading, he sent his son a smile. "Yes, Dudley?"

Blue eyes a mixture of uncertainty and determination, he asked, "When are we picking Harry up from the station? Christmas day is tomorrow."

Vernon shook his head and did his best to ignore the way his gut twisted with guilt. "We aren't," he answered. "Harry decided to stay at his magic school for the holidays."

Dudley was quiet. His fine brows creating a canyon above the bridge of his nose as he thought about what he wanted to do next.

Vernon felt his heart stutter at the sight. He begged with all the higher powers that be for Dudley to ask no more questions, but the higher powers had never been kind to him before, so when Dudley opened his mouth, Vernon was not surprised.

"Why, Dad? You're supposed to be with family for Christmas," he said.

Vernon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose he's enjoying himself there and just doesn't want it to end," he explained to Dudley, even though he doubted that was the truth. "I remember, when your mother and I went on our Honeymoon, we were just a week away from Easter. Instead of coming home to celebrate with your Aunt Marge and my parents, we extended our trip. We were liking it too much by the seaside to want to go home just then."

Slowly, Dudley nodded. "That makes sense."

Shaking out his paper so it stood straight once more, Vernon made the decisive decision to end the conversation. "Good, now, eat up. We have to go get our Christmas tree still!"

And after a moment, his son did.

There was no more talk about Harry that holiday break. His Christmas presents sat unopened beneath the Christmas tree until Vernon was forced to throw out the spruce. At that point, Harry's presents were moved to the cupboard under the stairs. And there, they would stay.

Out of sight.

Much like Harry himself.

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Just a few days before the end of Dudley and Harry's first year at Smeltings and Hogwarts respectively, Vernon received a letter. In it, absolutely horrifying events were described. Worst of all, though, was the part that alluded to the fact Harry could have died if not for Hogwarts's Headmaster's prompt finding of Harry.

Mind flashing back to that day, all those years ago, where he found his Pet bloody, pale and unconscious upon the tile floors of their bathroom, Vernon began to shake.

He'd almost lost him, just like he'd lost her.

Immediately Vernon wrote back, requesting to visit his nephew right away. Not too long later, Professor McGonagall, the woman that had taken Harry shopping for school, nearly a year ago appeared at his front door.

"Hello, Mr Dursley," she greeted.

Vernon, face grim only dipped his head in return.

Sighing in an almost sympathetic manner, she remarked, "I suppose you wish to see Harry through the quickest means possible?"

"That would be ideal, yes," Vernon replied.

"Very well, but I must warn you, the method we wizards and witches travel by can be rather…disorienting," the older woman said to him.

Vernon waved off the judgment. "Fine, I don't care. I just want to see my nephew."

"Give me your hand," she commanded.

Doing so, a minute later, he was overwhelmed by the sensation of his stomach being pulled out through his nose as the world twisted and blackened altogether.

"Ugh," Vernon grunted as he tried to spit out the foul taste of vomit from his mouth.

Giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze, the old woman Professor McGonagall had brought him to, clucked, "You poor dear."

Pulling away from her touch, Vernon met her gaze and asked, "Where's my nephew?"

She pointed beyond the curtain of the impromptu cubicle he'd found himself in. "Just a few beds over. He's resting at the moment-"

Getting up on unsteady feet, Vernon pushed aside the curtains and headed straight over to his nephew. Pausing at the foot of Harry's bed, he stared at the boy.

Harry had grown some, he noticed easily. However, even though Harry looked older than he had when he'd seen him off at the beginning of the school year, Vernon was struck by just how young he still was. Harry wasn't even twelve. In just less than nine months he'd had his innocence about the good and evil in the world fractured and almost died.

"Harry…" he whispered.

The child didn't stir. Walking around, he took a seat on the edge of his nephew's bed and brushed back his bangs. "Oh lad…" he sighed.

He'd failed this boy so, so much.

Vernon had first let his letters lag, then, he'd failed to start up a line of communications with Harry's head of house like he'd told himself he would. Finally, when Harry said he wished to spend the holidays at this school, he didn't fight him. Vernon let his nephew spend more time here than he should have.

Harry had always been mischief prone and, now, it'd lead him into not just the usual boyhood trouble, but right into a life or death situation.

Under his hand, Vernon's nephew stirred. Blinking green eyes a moment later, he mumbled, "Uncle Vernon?"

"Yes, lad," he replied.

Lips pursing in a frown, Harry asked, "What're you doing here?"

"I heard about the little situation you got yourself in," he explained.

Gaze shifting away and Harry said, "Oh."

"It's a bit more than just 'oh', wouldn't you say?" Vernon asked his nephew through clenched teeth.

Harry blinked up at him, surprise and something close to hope in his stare. "You mean, you care? " he questioned.

Vernon, flabbergasted, couldn't find anything to say for a moment. Finally, he burst out, "Yes! I do care! God, what would your aunt think if I let the fact you nearly died pass by without mention? She'd have a conniption!"

Eyes dimming as he began to look around, Harry asked him, "What are you going to do, Uncle Vernon?"

"I-" but he stopped. What could Vernon do? He could pull him from Hogwarts, he supposed. But Professor McGonagall had made it very clear, when explaining magic and wizards and things to him, that without the proper education, Harry's magic would probably become a danger to those around him.

To Mrs Whitmore. To Dudley.

Vernon didn't know the first thing about how the magical world worked beyond his nephew's school and just the very thought of learning about it seemed daunting. Impossible, even.

Harry, face marred with a frown, demanded, "Well?"

"You will be getting no birthday presents this year," Vernon blurted thoughtlessly.

The boy didn't look very cowed at all. Upset by this, he grumbled, "You could at least look a little unhappy about that, Harry!"

His nephew gave a sheepish smile. "Actually, Uncle Vernon, I wasn't really planning to be home for my birthday…I was hoping you'd let me go stay with the Weasleys about July. It'd make things easier, you know? You wouldn't have to worry about taking me to get my school supplies or about owls and other magical things all summer."

Vernon could only stare at his nephew.

"That's very…thoughtful of you, Harry," he finally said.

The boy perked up at this. "You're…okay with that? You don't mind if I spend most of the summer with the Weasleys? Even though you haven't ever met them or anything?"

He could only give his anxious-looking nephew a helpless smile. It would be for the best, he knew. From what little Harry had told him about the Weasleys, they were completely magical. They knew this world inside and out the same way he knew his. At this point in his life, Harry needed someone who could help him navigate the world around him. Vernon couldn't do that. He wasn't a wizard.

However, the last thing Vernon wanted to do was give Harry the impression that he was giving up on him.

Instead, Vernon would try and lead Harry into believing that his argument was too persuasive to not agree to.

After a long moment of silence, Vernon thinned his lips and said with great gravity, "From the way you're speaking, I'm not sure I have much of a choice at this point, Harry. It seems like you've gotten it all planned already and you brought up a number of good points for why you should be able to stay with them. You've…grown up a lot this year, haven't you Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose," he replied, sounding neither happy nor proud.

Giving his nephew's knee a squeeze, he said, "You finish resting up now, Harry. I'll be at the station to get you in a few days."

Nodding as he shifted onto his side, Harry mumbled, "Thanks for coming, Uncle Vernon."

"It's what Pet would have wanted, I bet," he answered.

Walking over to the Matron of the Infirmary and Professor McGonagall then, he told them, "I'm ready to go."

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "You don't wish to speak with the Headmaster?"

Vernon shook his head. "Harry's alright," he said. "Besides, I doubt I can blame any one of you - even if I wanted to. Harry's always had a penchant for trouble. The best I can ask is you keep a better eye on him next year and I'm sure you, and the Headmaster, know this already."

Miffed expressions on their countenances, the two older women only nodded at him before Professor McGonagall was offering him an arm to leave.

Looking back once more to his nephew, Vernon sent the squinted green eyes watching him a strained smile.

In response, the boy lifted a hand in goodbye.

Vernon did the same, knowing this one would not be nearly as long as their last.

Soon, Harry would be home again - even if it were only to be for a little while.

A/N: Thanks for reading and please vote and comment!

How do you feel about this one? Vernon's feelings about magic and the further disconnect Hogwarts has caused between him and Harry?