dancing on bones (our souls of iolites and emeralds)

Chapter 13

(3) the term "child abuse" means intentionally or knowingly causing death or serious bodily injury to a child;
— 8 USC § 1111 (c)

//

Harry's thoughts were a confused, frantic sort of static for the next few hours. Kusuo hated it. He allowed his brother to cling to him, the most present he had been since that first night of rebirth. Sending him telepathic words of encouragement, and ruffling his hair every time he so much as whimpered; the poor thing was exhausted, and afraid in a way no child, let alone one so young, ever should be.

Kusuo ached for his brother; life for a baby was rough, even if it didn't outwardly appear so. Everything was so big and bright, and new, and Harry didn't have a mother to nurse him lovingly at her breast anymore, or a father to cradle him protectively in safe arms (not that his first father had been very good at that). All his brother had was his own small form curled up around him

Vernon took his sobbing wife by her shoulders and walked to sit down at - Kusuo craned his head- a sofa.

There he started trying to comfort her, occasionally shooting looks his way.

Kusuo took this chance to observe the room he was in. Wallpaper on the walls. Lots of ruffles, frills and gathers on the sofa and chair. Florals and pastels as the running theme. A locked fireplace.

It was in the style of an 80s sitcom that Mikoto forced him to watch to improve her English. Kusuo honestly thought she would be better served by going for official English tutoring but who was he to know what accent and style the entertainment industry required? Mikoto was the silver screen actor, all wide-eyed and excited to premiere in her first film. Kusuo was the real-life actor. And that was the difference between them.

Three hours of being ignored passed, and it was really starting to grate on Kusuo's nerves.

Harry was a baby, he was a baby who hadn't eaten since last night! Children need to be fed more frequently than that. Even Kusuo knew that, and his experience with children had been restricted to babysitting and watching his parents (poor failed Lily and James, he's sosososossorry-) take care of them.

Kusuo raised his hands up again, waving them in the air for emphasis, and sighed in relief when Petunia finally stopped sobbing.

She loomed near him, staring down with wet eyes, her cheeks blotchy from all the tear stains. Kusuo stared up at her, annoyed. It wasn't to say that he didn't feel bad for her, but Harry needed to eat, and Kusuo was gaining half the mind to stand up and get food himself.

The woman continued her staring. So Kusuo stared back as well.

How to ask for food? How do babies ask for food?

Fine. There goes the five-word limit.

Kusuo opened his mouth and pointed, before saying (or rather, thinking directly into her mind) "Hungry."

The woman seems to have gotten the message. She hesitated for a while before picking up the basket and taking them further inside the house. Kusuo looked around and found himself annoyed once more. She was walking too fast and he was afraid Harry would be dropped if she moved around too quickly.

Soon enough, they reached a nursery, and Kusuo and Harry were placed on the floor. At this height, he could see another baby with wisps of blonde hair in a playpen, having fallen asleep drooling on a blanket.

Dudley Dursley.

Kusuo felt tired already, thinking about having to share his space with another child.