Chapter Text
It was an ordinary morning that spread about the muted, suburban landscape of Little Whinging. The sky, solid and gray, bowed like curtains as bulging cumulonimbus clouds swelled with rain. Every few minutes, a cloud would lazily dribble a small spattering of water, not enough to make one bother with an umbrella or delay usual business. Not that the streets were especially alive. On the main village block, only one cafe had rolled up its bars and begun to churn out the faint scent of coffee grounds and pastries; it was Sunday after all. Presently, an elderly couple had wandered into the shop, out of weekly routine.
They set themselves on the cushioned sheets near the large glass pane at the front of the cafe. The owner, a casual Spanish man, prepared the usual order; Lemon and mint tea (cooled a little) with a generous portion of heavy cream, two sugar cubes (brown) and one piece of toast (crispy, not brown) with a layer of margarine and citrus marmalade was brought to the bolder woman of the pair, who had been eyeing the precision by which her instructions were carried out. For the milder partner, a dark roast coffee was accompanied by a bowl of porridge latticed with honey and cinnamon. Setting the meal between the women, a sharp crack punctuated the serene quiet of the street outside, startling the owner and causing him to pour quite an excess of cream into the more particular customer's tea. The woman took the cup without complaint however, visibly captivated on the object rolling, as one could best describe it, down the street.
The vehicle was antique and defaced with a bright but densely pastel coat of blue paint. It was the movement that was most startling though; the whole contraption seemed to readily disconnect with every lurch and bump. The wheel axels sprang from their sockets, the side doors shifting unnaturally up and down. Yet, at just the second one would believe the parts would collapse, the entire vehicle would spring together by some unknown attraction. The elastic car moved along, jolting at an occasional gunshot-like noise emitted by its incorrectly bent muffler, puttering past the coffee shop window towards a boring aggregate of residential dwellings.
"They'll wake the entire place!" gasped the small woman, adding, " And don't you get so liberal with this sweetener mister! I've had these chompers for 78 years and I have no plans of rotting them now!" gesturing in renewed attention to her creamy drink.
Apologizing, the owner set the water for another cup and she promptly lapsed into quieter mutterings with her companion about a certain neighbor's reckless child, the State's election, the status of her favorite plum tree (blooming like never before!) and other complaints and muses that fill a perfectly ordinary life.
Harry Potter gripped the worn wheel of the faithful Ford Anglica and fixed his eyes on the road ahead, partially to keep the roaming vehicle within the painted lines, mostly to avoid the incredulous glare of his wife.
"You said Ron fixed this thing, Harry."
"He did Gin, the spell makes it impossible for it to fall apart."
"Fixed, Harry " she repeated.
"Well that sounded pretty fixed to me," Another loud crack. Harry winced, "I suppose it could sound better."
Ginny scowled and turned her attention to the back seat, examining her uncharacteristically quiet children. They looked back at her, a wiley grin, a mop of brilliant red hair, and a pair of green eyes magnified by spectacles.
"Tell me again why we can't just Floo to Uncle Dudley's house, Mum?" Lily concentrated intensely on an unnatural gap that was regularly opening and closing between the side door and the floor of the car.
"Because your Aunt Camille hates the mess and their children have a fit every time we appear. I think Preston may be allergic, why he was absolutely puffy for hours after we came for Christmas."
"And tell me again why we don't want to do that Mum?" James waggled his eyebrows mischievously and Albus, who had been rather solemnly staring through the windshield until this moment, and now grinned softly at his brother's quip.
Harry turned to eye his eldest son, "Now James," but his expression, too, matched his middle child.
"Harry there," Ginny pointed and Harry veered sharply into a driveway leading up to a rightly square house slathered in an egg-white tone, with inoffensively tan shutters.
Harry never really had an intention of visiting number four Privet Drive after that fateful night before his seventeenth birthday. However, after the events of that following May, the Durselys had returned to their old, unsold dwelling in a heartbeat. The year had not been kind to Mr. Dursely, nor his wife and son. On several occasions, the family had been hastily forced to abandon their new homes during the wee hours of the morning for "precautionary measures" against "imminent enemy threats." Vernon Dursely was not the man to usually give in to such intimidation though Petunia, his wife, seemed to know a bit more of what these "threats" entailed and her blanched, shaky reaction to these sudden relocations always persuaded Vernon to follow without much question.
Dedalus Diggle remained a constant and vigilant companion to the Durselys during their travels into hiding. As a skilled auror, he could detect the slightest presence of Dark magic or the wizards practicing it like Dudley could find the one sugar-coated strawberry on a platter of fresh fruit. More than once, the Durselys were safely whisked away from any wizards who wished them harm due to Diggle's alertness and on the rare occasion that dark forces initially eluded him, his superior wand use- in particular a dangerously accurate Reductor Curse- never failed to keep the family's heads on their shoulders. If anyone was in debt to this wizard's talents, it would be the Dursely trio.
Unfortunately, Vernon Dursely never saw Dedalus as talented. Rather, he noticed the odd way this man would mismatch his muggle clothing or how he caught him, every so often, talking into the embers of a fire, or the simply ridiculous news he would share with the family about escaped dragons from goblin-run banks and increasing activity in known giant communities across Britain. It didn't help that every relocation Diggle brought the family to was in a community where a few wizarding families resided.
"It adds to the protection," Dedalus would explain when Vernon and Petunia would spot a cluster of oddly dressed individuals who lived down the street, "and perhaps you'll benefit from the exposure- the absurdity as you call it."
Nevertheless, after almost a year of total absurdity, Dedalus informed the Durselys that, if they so ever wished, they were free to come out of hiding and return to their old house on Privet Drive, which remained perpetually unsold in order to deter Death Eaters from "interrogating" and unsuspecting muggles about the previous residents. The wizard had also added, "Of course, you are more than welcome to continue your stay here…" though whether that last invitation ever made it to Vernon's ears as he bowled up the staircase to his half un-emptied suitcase remained unknown. So, a mere two days after the wizarding world had begun to celebrate the fall of the darkest wizard in memory, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley had finished squeezing their belongings through the front door of their abandoned home and promptly slouched on the couch, turning the telly to the most mundane local news, which had little to say other than that the nasty fog which seemed to have enveloped the whole country finally seemed to be clearing.
Dudley Dursley had turned eighteen in the comfort of his home and attended a local trade school the following year, happily living in his mother's care. It was much less complicated with his cousin out of the way, as the deeply upsetting feelings Dudley had wrought with during their year on the run regarding his loving.. but yet... no, his very good, loving parents faded with their care, no longer interrupted by cruelty or meanness that so often erupted when Harry had been around. He'd risked a reawakening of that anger when, one day, he had brought a girl home with him, close to the world that his parents had seemed to have forgotten. However, as a non-magical sibling herself, Petunia had taken to the girl like a daughter ever since that first night. Dudley believed no other woman could have lifted the smothering protectiveness she'd lavished on her son so quickly. The deed to Number 4 Privet Drive was a wedding present, as Petunia and Vernon had no need for such space in their age and were having increasing difficulty managing the stairs every day.
The wedding had also brought his cousin back into his life, almost a decade since their not-so-final farewell. Harry had come alone, though he'd shown the Durselys an animated picture of a stunningly beautiful witch, whipping deftly around on a broomstick. Standing at the altar Dudley suddenly became all too emotional at the sight of his own gorgeous wife-to-be as she strode gracefully up the aisle, guided by her wizard father dressed in almost appropriate muggle formal wear. Fearing he might faint, Dudley scanned the room, tugging on his collar, which he realized was far too tight, just as his jacket was far too hot and shoes far too stiff. But everyone had their gaze turned to the beautiful woman, drawing his attention back.
Finally, at the brink of unconscious, he'd found the one person out of tune with the choreography of the scene. His cousin was sitting rather still despite the vibrating chords of the organ, which bobbed everyone else's heads in cue. And his face, not angry or sad, but not something near the comparable elation of the other guests, was turned towards the front of the hall, staring at his cousin but really staring through him. It was this odd behavior that caused confusion and a little annoyance to bubble up in Dudley, allowing him to regain his composure as his bride made the final steps to the altar. Harry riveted into more natural motion as she appeared beside him, as if she'd popped into view by magic. Now he smiled, but it seemed more like relief, as if this whole affair was an act of great fortune, something to happen against all the odds. Dudley did not ponder him longer, he needed to get through his vows and after... well start the rest of life that would surely change after this one momentous decision.
The next time Dudley was able to think, it was almost midnight. He'd spent the last hours chatting aimlessly with wedding guests, laughing at quips that were supposed to be laughed at, and wearing in the new term of "my wife" with an indescribable pride. Then he saw it again, the pale face that wasn't swaying to the funk band that kept almost everyone else on the dance floor in the reception room. He strode up to his cousin, who stood and smiled that odd wooden smile as he came near. He was still so very short and this irritated Dudley as, in the back of his mind, thoughts from that fretful year emerged and he wondered if Harry might have been taller had he grown up under other's care.
"Congratulations Dud!" Harry took Dudley's hand with firmness and sincerity and Dudley noticed that, while small in stature, his cousin's voice had matured beyond his years, sounding like an older uncle rather than a peer. This too, this disconnect between body and presence, unnerved him.
"Thanks," He managed, groping inside himself to shut the doors on the feelings that knocked on his heart, which only wanted to feel joyful today.
"Honeymoon plans?" Harry filled the momentary pause that elapsed.
"Erm yes actually, France. A castle tour in Brittany and then vineyards in Champagne."
"Sounds lovely."
Harry now glanced at Camille, his wife, chatting amicably with a gang of young men in slightly outdated tuxedos. Dudley whispered, "Yes, they're wizards, her brothers."
Harry nodded but seemed unsure if he should continue the subject, "Will you be house-hunting then, after?"
Dudley beamed, "Actually yes, but helping Mum and Dad find a nice place in London. They've given us the house as a gift, proper size for a family really."
Harry smiled again, though averted his eyes from his cousin. Dudley, too, had realized his mistake. Again, that feeling, like a itch crept up his body. He hated how normal conversation could not be said in Harry's company, how it had all become tainted, ruined by... well...
"I...um... I was just about to leave actually." And Dudley realized Harry was carrying his coat, a long cloak-like garment with star-shaped buttons on the cuffs. Not something Dudley would find in the stores he shopped in.
"Ah yes, I wish I could follow you. It seems like it will never end," Dudley replied
Harry shuffled a bit towards the door, but turned once more, weighing his words, "If you could," He scribbled down a number, "Um... give ring when you find a place for erm... your parents. So I could send an invite for..." Harry had gone red and when words finally failed him, he procured a small, velvet box from his jacket and opened it. It was empty but Dudley, so imbibed in his own love story, immediately understood.
"When did you? To the girl... Jenny was her name?"
"Ginny, yes just a few days ago actually." Harry took an effortful breath, as if getting to this point had required substantial physical strength, "I'd like you to come, all of you." Harry cocked his head to where Vernon and Petunia sat.
"Of course, of course." Dudley grinned and clapped Harry on the back, jolting the small man, who remained jovial nonetheless.
In fact, Harry looked more thrilled than he had all evening. He said his goodbyes to Dudley and Camille, who'd wandered over to see where her husband had gone, and then gave Petunia and Vernon a brief farewell before exiting the ballroom. Dudley watched him go and out of the corner of his eye saw his parents cackling in a tone that didn't match the positivity of the night; mocking, cruel. And again, before Camille thankfully pulled him into more niceties with more people he pretended to remember, Dudley was aware of that tangled, unworkable sensation that told him that he was wrong to be glad his cousin had left the party.
Harry turned into the driveway of Number Four to meet his grown cousin and celebrate his second daughter's birthday. Opening the car door, he hesitated for a moment, again wildly thinking of why he was returning to the place he had so longed to leave as a child. Although he knew it was illogical, Harry always had the fleeting fear that he might not be allowed to leave the house at the end of his infrequent visits with his cousin and his stomach would twist into the familiar feeling he had felt during the summers of his school years.
A flurry of bright red hair whipped past Harry as Ginny quickly rounded the hood of the Ford, "Pockets out!" She accosted James, discreetly scanning her wand about his person. "What's in your shoe?"
She bent to protract a 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes' ever-bubbling bubble gum tuck near James' ankle. "My goodness James, they have braces!"
"Who said I was gonna share?" James laughed as Ginny finished her, less intensive, search of Albus and Lily. He hung his arm around his brother and Albus felt a small parcel drop into his front pocket. He looked up at James, who whispered, "For later," and winked. Albus gulped, less enthusiastic about the idea of pranking the Dursley children.
Ginny knew the sentimentality that Harry held this house in and so she took the lead, crossing the small path leading up to the porch. She paused with her finger on the doorbell before looking back at the rest of her family who stood unmoving on the walkway. Her three children, James, Albus, and Lily all waited behind their father. Even James was secretly hoping Harry would change his mind about coming, hoping that they wouldn't have to visit for yet another year.
"Well come on! They're expecting us you know and standing there is not going to make them come out," Ginny tapped her foot on the porch, striking an impressive reflection of her mother and eyed each of her children sternly. As her eyes traveled to her husband though, her gaze softened and she turned once more to ring the doorbell.
At the sound of several feet pounding down the stairs, Harry gave a jerk, as if coming out of a trance, and strode quickly to his wife's side. James gave a sidelong glance towards Albus, but only found Lily by his side, her eager look of possibly returning home fading fast with each of her father's footsteps. Behind him a soft click of the car door was followed by the even softer footsteps of his younger brother. "Forgot my book," Albus explained, a brightly colored cover held in his hands.
James snorted, "I thought you already read that book," and flicked the cover with his finger. To the ordinary eye, this gesture seemed perfectly harmless. However, James was not an ordinary boy and that had not been an ordinary book. As Harry and Ginny were greeted by Dudley, the three adults turned towards a sudden squawking noise to find Albus frantically calming his flapping bird book with James and Lily doubled over with laughter. The children looked up at the adults as Albus hissed to his brother," You always do that at the wrong time!"
"Perhaps we could leave that particular book in the car for the time being," Dudley nervously eyed the now settled book chirping contently in Albus' arms.
Al shrank away from Harry's cousin, as he never brushed off the tension that emanated from the senior Dursely as easily as James whenever magic was presented. Dudley was easily the most massive thing on the front porch, with an extensive build of both muscle and fat. He reached a towering height above the average man with a thick neck that seamlessly flowed into broad shoulders and led to a, once fit, but now slightly pouched belly. Al didn't think much could give a man like this a fright yet he knew Dudley was afraid of quite a number of things that didn't fit into his ordinary world. A flapping, squawking book was one of those things. Al suspected his family as a whole was another.
Seeing the boy's face fall, Dudley added quickly, "We have more in here. You're welcome to read them."
"Okay," Al brightened slightly and turned to placed the book back in the car.
Ginny turned to Dudley, apologetically, "Sorry for that, I told them to bring normal things…"
Dudley, who was still following Albus, turned distractedly toward her, "He reads a lot, the little one doesn't he? Always brings a book when he comes."
"Yes, Al's our little reader," Ginny smiled, glad the situation hadn't ruffled her cousin-in-law too much.
"Reading's a good thing for kids," Dudley continued, "Quiet…" the bird book suddenly gave one last screech before Albus shut the door. Harry, who had been removed until now, suddenly laughed and even Dudley gave a smirk as his last comment died on his lips.
"Trust me, Dud," Harry said as his cousin led him into the house, "Nothing is quiet around wherever we are. Not with James and Al so close to each other."
"Oh yeah, I know," replied Dudley, nodding wisely, "Even without the- you know- it's still a rarity to get peace here. But the birthday girl isn't in at the moment, so we'll have about an hour before the storm really starts."
The interior of the house had changed since turning hands to Dudley and Camille, and yet Harry could clearly see a general similarity of taste in decor had permeated the younger generation. Upon viewing the inner design without knowledge of the residents, one might conjecture that an older widow may be the occupant, perhaps accompanied by a few cats to accentuate the interior with a fittingly stale smell. In reality, Dudley's wife's strong 'Coconut and Amber' Cologne sufficed. The woman appeared from the kitchen to acknowledge the visitors. Camille Marcella Dursley had a favorable enough visage and perhaps, if freely framed with her naturally curly locks as they had on her wedding day, would even be considered pleasant to look at. But it seemed with every visit she became more tidy and exact in appearance; her unruly strands were meticulously straightened and tugged into a small bun near the nape of her neck. So tightly was it tied that she appeared to stretch her lineaments into a more severe countenance; her eyebrows, finely drawn and filled, never seemed to come completely to rest, her eyes widened to an effect of being hawkish, and her lips pulled out like a stringy taffy.
"Ah my dear!" exclaimed Dudley, "They're back! A little bigger and none the more tame, so they'll do even more damage!" The statement was mostly in jest, but the taffy drooped slightly, puckering into a pout.
"Don't touch anything unless you're clean." Camille studied the Potter children. They waited as her eyes fell on James' unkempt hair, Albus' slightly bent glasses, the small scuffs on Lily's knees from climbing earlier that morning. Meanwhile, a horridly obtuse boy of around thirteen years came smashing into the kitchen. Dispensing air in a rising panic, he traipsed around the counters and chairs.
"Mum!" he labored, voice rising to a dangerous apex, "Wha- wha was in the chocolates?" Camille immediately swooped down upon her son, examining the sweet residue left on one of his fingers.
"What? What have you gotten into? I...Oh," She suddenly opened a drawer, revealing an opened box with a bow rather unceremoniously shoved to the side, "Preston it was clearly a gift!" She extracted a bottle of pills from a cabinet and handed them to her son, who had managed to fill a glass of water.
"For your birthday. It was last week wasn't it?" Camille returned to the foyer with the box and eyed Harry, who paled under her scowl. "He's allergic to pistachio." She finished, slight accusation in her voice as if the whole situation could have been prevented had Harry simply enjoyed another flavor of sweet.
"Ah, well that was a nice thought Camille. I wouldn't mind taking the rest off your hands. I really do like them..." Camille shot a withering look as Harry reached for the chocolates. Finally Ginny nudged him when, not taking the hint, Harry popped a treat into his mouth and nodded, somewhat exaggeratedly, "Yes, very good."
Preston appeared in the entrance of the kitchen, considerably calmer but still visibly puffy in the cheeks. He suddenly caught the eye of James and, only now realizing his embarrassment, skulked in the doorframe, trying with all his might to nonverbally threaten the Potter children into never repeating what had just happened.
Unfortunately Camille broke the effect as she spotted a smear of chocolate on his sleeve, "Preston you change your clothes this moment and get that one soaking immediately! You will not ruin another perfectly good shirt!" She glanced unconsciously at Lily, dusty from her outdoor excursion in her dress.
Ginny seethed soundlessly as she followed the other woman's gaze and as Camille followed her son upstairs, she whisked our her wand and whispered, "Scourgify!"
Lily rolled her eyes as her dress gave a little wave, the olive green looking slightly brighter, "Oh did James teach you that too?" Ginny caught her daughter's expression, but didn't seem angry.
A voice emanated from upstairs, "Oh Penny, please show your cousins where they may play outside."
The second Dursley child descended, smiling coyly at Harry and Ginny. "Hello Auntie and Uncle! Shall we go to the patio? Why the garden is just blooming at the moment!" Her voice lilted unnaturally as a result of excessive practice of the lines. Penny Dursley was more composed than her brother, rather neat and particular like her mother, however, she possessed a hurricane of a temper when either neatness or politeness were threatened. Even now, as James smirked at her haughty delivery, the coloring of her cheeks darkened. Not wanting to cause a second commotion, both Harry and Dudley made to quell the situation.
"Ah sweetie how very proper of you! Why I'm sure our guests would love for you to give them a tour!" Dudley crooned as Harry enthusiastically nodded pointedly nudging James.
"Right then, follow me!" The storm on Penny's cheeks subsided and she pivoted and continued out the back door at a brisk pace.
As they made their way to the back of the house, only Albus looked back to see his father lagging behind, walking almost lethargically through the hall. And only Albus saw Harry pause for a second, certainly unaware of his son's eyes on him, and almost absentmindedly brush his hand against a cupboard door beneath the stairs.