Primrose Dursly and the boy who lived {hp Fanfic} (Many Hidden Ship's)

Chapter 2: Waiting

By twelve o'clock the next day, Primrose's bag was packed. Harry said to just bring clothes,but she really doubted that she wouldn't need her old things. She had emptied her hiding place under the loose floorboard of all food, double checked every nook and cranny of her bedroom for any forgotten clothes or belongings, and took down the chart on the wall counting down the days to her first day of school, on which she used to like to cross off the days remaining until her return to School. The atmosphere inside number four, Privet Drive was extremely tense. The imminent arrival at their house of an assortment of wizards was making the Dursleys uptight and irritable. Primroses father had looked downright alarmed when Harry informed him that the Weasleys would be arriving at five o'clock the very next day. "I hope you told them to dress properly, these people," he snarled at once. "I've seen the sort of stuff your lot wear. They better have the decency to put on normal clothes, that's all." Her father had put on his best suit. To some people, this might have looked like a gesture of welcome, but Primrose knew it was because Uncle Vernon wanted to look impressive. Dudley, on the other hand, looked somehow diminished. This was not because the diet was at last taking effect, but due to fright. Primrose remembered Dudley had emerged from his last encounter with a fully grown wizard with a curly pig's tail poking out of the seat of his trousers. It wasn't altogether surprising, therefore, that Dudley kept running his hand nervously over his backside, and walking sideways from room to room, so as not to present the same target to the enemy. Lunch was an almost silent meal. Dudley didn't even protest at the food (cottage cheese and grated celery). Primrose and Harry sat to side, planing what to they would do when telling the Dursleys that she would be going with Harry. They decided to just throw a letter at them explaining it what had happened as they left. Primrose's mum wasn't caring anything at all. Normally, she became annoyed when Primrose and harry talked. But now, Her arms were folded, her lips were pursed, and she seemed to be chewing her tongue, as though biting back the furious diatribe she longed to throw at Harry table. "They'll be driving, of course?" primroses father barked across the room suddenly. Primrose looked at him curiously. How would they get here? "Er," said Harry "I think so," Primroses father snorted into his mustache. Normally, he would have asked what car Mr. Weasley drove; he tended to judge other men by how big and expensive their cars were. But she doubted whether her father would have taken to Mr. Weasley even if he drove a Ferrari. Primrose spent most of the afternoon in her bedroom; she couldn't stand watching her mum peer out through the net curtains every few seconds, as though there had been a warning about an downstairs and into the living room escaped rhinoceros. Finally, at a quarter to five, Primrose went back to the living room, the letter explaining everything in hand. Her mum was compulsively straightening cushions. Her father was pretending to read the paper, but his tiny eyes were not moving, and Primrose was sure he was really listening with all his might for the sound of an approaching car. Dudley was crammed into an armchair, his porky hands beneath him, clamped firmly around his bottom. Harry watched them with an amused look on his face. But five o'clock came and then went. Primrose father, perspiring slightly in his suit, opened the front door, peered up and down the street, then withdrew his head quickly. "They're late!" he snarled at Harry. He didn't even flinch. "I know." said Harry "Maybe er- the traffic's bad or something."
Ten past five...then a quarter past five. Primrose was starting to feel anxious herself now. At half past, she heard her father and Mum conversing in terse mutters in the living room

"No consideration at all."

"We might be had an engagement."
"Maybe they think they'll get invited to dinner if they're late."
"Well, they most certainly won't be," said Uncle Vernon, and Primrose heard him stand up and start pacing the living room "They'll take the boy and go, there'll be no hanging around. That's
if they're coming at all. Probably mistaken the day. I daresay their kind don't set much store by punctuality. Either that or they drive some tin-pot car that's broken d- AAAAAAAARRRRRGH!"
Primrose jumped up. From the other side of the living room came the sounds of the three Dursleys scrambling, panic-stricken, looking terrified. across the room. Harry hurried into the living room. Loud bangings and scrapings were coming from behind the Dursleys' boarded-up fireplace, which had a fake coal fire plugged in front of it. "What is it?" gasped Primrose's, who had backed into the wall and was staring, terrified, toward the fire. "What is it, Vernon?" But they have left in doubt barely a second longer. Voices could be heard from inside the blocked fireplace.