Harry Potter and Petunia's Hatred

Chapter 2

Petunia was deep in thought when she was interrupted by the sound of coughing and spluttering. Shaking her head, she came back to reality and realized that she was still holding the boy under water. Only, there was no water. It just...disappeared! She quickly stood the boy up. He looked at her, his eyes filled with fear. Rage filling her, Petunia grabbed a hairbrush and began using it to spank his butt. SMACK! "What..." SMACK! "did..." SMACK! "you..." SMACK! "do!?" SMACK! She yelled angrily, punctuating each word with a loud SMACK.

"Ow! I don't know!" The little troublemaker cried.

Petunia was satisfied to see that his butt was now red. But she wasn't done yet. "This is exactly why I hate you! Because you're always doing naughty things like this! Because you're a burden on this family! You're a freak! Nothing but a waste of space! You should have died in that car crash with your parents! Now, sit down, shut up, and let me finish your bath!"

The little freak obeyed, but still cried.

Oh great, thought Petunia, just what I need. Choosing to ignore her scared nephew, she started refilling the tub. While the water ran, she started shampooing his hair. The boy started crying a little harder. For some reason, he hated having his hair washed. Maybe it was because she scrubbed it really good and wasn't gentle. Or maybe it was because she used dog shampoo. But she wasn't about to waste their good shampoo on the boy. (Marge got him this last Christmas, a bottle of dog shampoo. When he first got it, the brat complained, saying that he wasn't a dog. But really, was the boy any different than a dog? Petunia didn't think so. After all, they were both dirty. They were both smelly. They were both annoying. So yes, the boy was basically like a dog.) Petunia didn't particularly care; she just wishes he was good like Dudley.

By the time Petunia rinsed his hair, the boy stopped crying. Now he was just shivering as Petunia poured the pitcher of cold water over his hair. Then she turned off the faucet.

As Petunia started washing his body, the little brat spoke. "I-I'm sorry for b-being a b-bur-burden."

Petunia just ignored him. The boy wasn't sorry. If he was truly sorry, he'd start pulling his own weight around here. Still angry, she practically rubbed his skin raw.

"Ow, ow. Aunt P-Petunia, you're h-hurting me."

"Quit complaining! You're always complaining! You should just be grateful that I give you a bath!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia. Thank you for the bath."

Petunia just rolled her eyes and continued to wash him. As she washed private area, a horrible though occurred to her:  someday he would probably have children of his own. And they will be little freaks, too. These type people shouldn't be allowed to reproduce! Lily did, and here was the miserable result. Maybe she could find a way to intervene before the boy got a chance...

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Petunia quickly rinsed the boy's body. She then drained the water from the tub. She lifted him out of the tub and stood him on a towel. Then, using and old thin, thin, ratty towel, dried him off. Petunia then put him back in his clothes (he didn't have any proper pajamas).

"Aunt Petunia, can I have a snack?"

The nerve of him! Wasn't his dinner good enough? Petunia was fuming! "No! You already had 3 meals today!"

"But I'm hungry and you always let Dudley have a snack," the brat whined.

"Dudley is a good boy and deserves as many snacks as he likes. Maybe if you were a good boy like him. Now, quit that whining!"

Lastly, Petunia combed the boy's hair, her least favorite task. No matter how hard she tried, she could not get his hair to lay flat. In fact, it seemed the more she combed it, the more it stuck out. Petunia was determined to do something drastic about it. One day, she would just shear it all off! The brat was biting down on his fist, looking as if he wanted to cry again.

"Okay, we're done. Now go to your cupboard; I don't want to see you for the rest of the night."

Without saying another word, the freak ran out of the bathroom. Petunia sighed. She dreamed of the day when he no longer burdened her family; when he turned 17, he was out of here. Only 12 more years, Petunia kept tell herself as she cleaned up the mess.

A/N:  Sorry I took so long to finish.
I got the idea of the dog shampoo from Prisoner of Azkaban, where it mentions that Marge gave Harry dog treats one time.