title: A Little Birdie Will Come

author: lisa roquin

rating: 13ish

fandom: BtVS/HP

series/sequel: sequel to "Stars Sing, Little Flower"

characters/pairings: Drusilla/The Dursleys/Harry

disclaimer: all copyrighted characters and their "universes" belong to their respective authors, writers, creators, production companies, producers and long lists of people that are so very much not me. Quite simply, if you recognize it, it isn't mine. No profit made, no harm intended, just having fun.

summary:

author's note:tthficforall #1109

word count:

Mrs. Figg couldn't watch him, nor could any one else that Aunt Petunia had been able to think of, not on such short notice.

Eyes from all over the restraunt were on them as Dudley threw himself to the floor and began screaming for a cake, custard, and three slices of different kinds of pie. Harry slowly nibbled his grilled cheese and salad, making the meal last as long as he could, with as little movement as possible. He'd already been yelled at for fidgeting when he reached for his water earlier.

Dudley kicked the table. Harry's water spilled.

"BOY! We can't take you anywhere can we!" Uncle Vernon shouted at Harry as Aunt Petunia tried to coax Dudley into three deserts instead of five.

The water had landed on the half of Harry's grilled cheese still left. Uncle Vernon demanded that it be taken away, and no the troublesome brat didn't need anymore, if he was going to pour his water on his food, the bloody ingrate he'd been saddled with after the boy's fool drunk parents had gotten themselves killed could go without.

The waiter gave Vernon an openly disgusted look as all five desserts were ordered for Dudley.

"Go wait in the car," Vernon snarled, when one of Dudley's desserts landed on the floor. The waiter had tripped--due to Dudley's foot stuck out, Uncle Vernon didn't see that though. Something bad and unexpected happened, therefore it was Harry's fault.

~*~*~

Harry hurried to the Dursleys car. Uncle Vernon had locked it, and most definitely didn't give Harry the key, so there was little left for him to do but stand in the mostly unlit parking lot next to the car and wait. He didn't touch the car, nor lean against it. He knew better. Uncle Vernon was going to be in a sour enough mood. Harry fully expected a sore ear tomorrow. Uncle Vernon would do his usual, drag Harry into the house by the ear and lock him in his cupboard. He'd probably be in his cupboard until school Monday morning. Unless, there was some chore or another that Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia wanted done.

He got several strange looks as he waited, but that didn't matter. He was enjoying the warm spring evening and fresh air.

"I've been waiting for you" the woman slipped out of the shadows, she was young, and very pretty with pale skin and large dark eyes and long dark hair. Her dress was deep burgundy almost completely covered in black lace, it reached her ankles and on her feet, old fashioned heeled boots that laced up.

Harry swallowed. Something about the woman was quite strange but he was hard pressed to say what. Dangerous was the thought that screamed through his mind, though she hardly looked that dangerous.

"Little Lightning." she smiled, her voice had a sing song quality. "Soon a little birdie will come tell you such wonderful things."

She reached for his face, a sharp fingernail traced the scar on his forehead, he could feel just how sharp her fingernail was, but her touch was light enough to just scratch ever so gently, not hurt. "Poor little lightning, silly old bee left you to the pigs." The woman said sadly then stroked her fingers lightly down his cheek, caressed their way across his throat. A single finger caught under his chin abruptly tilting his head to look up at her.

"Stars sing sad songs about you little lightning. Can't have you yet. You're still too little. And the nasty things aren't here yet." she grinned wickedly, leaving an unsettled feeling in Harry's stomach that he couldn't put any real description to beyond uneasy. "Time will come soon enough, my little lightning."

"BOY! Who are you talking to!"

Harry was never so relieved to hear his uncle's bellow.

The woman spun and looked at the Dursley's and sort of swayed. Then she began laughing, a mad high, childlike giggle. She made a pig-snort sound in Dudley's direction and laughed all the harder. "It won't be long now little lightning. A little birdie will come."