A/N: Wow! What a long time since I posted a story! I guess life got in the way over the last five years. This one has actually been in the making for about that long so I really hope you enjoy it.

Cupboard was actually one of my favourites to write so I hope everyone thinks this is a worthy sequel to it!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything.

Dedication: Dedicated to Fappo. Have fun reading, you knob :P.

Doors

Dear Aunt Petunia,

I'm sorry it's taken me over a week to write to you but (as you might understand being married to Uncle Vernon), work has been rather demanding these past days. Our world's equivalent of the Football World Cup is near approaching and the hosting nation, Luxembourg, has requested a number of my Aurors to be sent over to aid in law enforcement. I hope you don't mind the slight delay in my correspondence.

On a better note, Ginny and the kids are going well. James is still having his growth spurt; he's really shot up! I don't think he ever stops eating these days! I can already tell he'll be taller than me by the time he's sixteen. Al is still going through his 'I Want To Be Like Dad' phase and is insisting that I now take him to work with me, which I would love to do but it'd be entirely too dangerous. I told him I'd bring him in on one of my office days but he seems bent on wanting to see some action. Lily is a little sick at the moment unfortunately. Her fever broke last night and she's been gradually recovering, which is a great relief for myself and Ginny as we were on the brink of taking her into hospital.

Onto other things however, I was wondering if you (and Dudley, and Uncle Vernon if they so wished) would like to come over for Sunday night roast? Ginny makes the most scrumptious lamb leg and magic is kept to a minimum as the kids still can't use a wand. I was quite touched by your hospitality last week, and the children are frequently asking questions about you. I know we never really got along all those years ago but I do believe there's still a chance of at least some sort of amicability.

All the best, and I hope you can make it. The return address is on the back.

Love, Harry.

Petunia gripped the letter and read it over a few more times. After a week of waiting she had been sure Harry had all but forgotten their little encounter and it would be another ten years before they corresponded again, let alone met. She hadn't realised, until she'd read halfway into the first paragraph, how much she'd been hoping her nephew would write to her and had been so filled with relief that she forgot about the bacon sizzling on the stove.

"Petunia!" Vernon said in alarm, "the bacon!"

Startled, she glanced from her husband sitting at the table to the smoking pan by her side and quickly moved it off the flame, using Harry's letter as a rudimentary fan to purge the smoke wafting upwards. She prayed it didn't reach the corridor where the smoke alarm was installed.

The bacon was crisp and a little charred but still edible as she piled some onto Vernon's plate and began frying eggs. Harry's letter was still on her mind, and she realised with dawning nervousness that she'd have to break the news to her husband in the very near future. The 'H' word had not rolled from Vernon's tongue in the last decade.

"Here you go, dear," she said distractedly, placing a plate loaded with bacon and eggs in front of him.

"Thanks," he grunted, poking around at the bacon, deciding it was alright, and then taking a massive mouthful.

Petunia went back to reading her letter, ignoring her own food as she sat. Harry's handwriting, she thought vaguely, was quite nice. It'd obviously improved from the last time she'd seen it.

Vernon swallowed loudly and Petunia could feel his eyes on her.

"What's that?" he asked, loading another forkful, "more bills?"

"No," she said softly, looking up and smiling slightly, "just a letter."

"From who?"

Petunia felt her neck begin to sweat. She considered lying to him. It wouldn't be the first time. But then logic kicked in and she reminded herself that he was going to find out about his nephew anyway, so it might aswell be sooner rather than later.

"Only - only Harry, Vernon dear."

"Harry?" he said through some egg, "Harry Miller who moved out from next door?"

"Well, actually-"

Vernon continued on, oblivious to his wife's discomfort, "I never pegged him as someone who'd write. We must've really made a good impression that one time he came over for lunch. He was very interested in my golf clubs now I remember."

"No it's not Harry Miller," said Petunia, "it's the other Harry. Our Harry, so you could say."

It took a moment for Vernon to let that information permeate his mind, and Petunia's knuckles were white as she clutched the letter. She knew an explosion was imminent, and quite frankly she was a little afraid. There was a high probability her husband would destroy the letter immediately and she wouldn't be able to reply to Harry.

She chanced a glace upwards and grimaced as Vernon's face slowly began to purple.

"Really, dear," she tried to placate him nervously, "he – he sounds nice and sincere-"

"THAT FREAK HAD NO RIGHT TO DISRUPT OUR PERFECT LIVES!" he bellowed, slamming his fist on the table and wrenching himself up to stand, breathing like an angry bull.

"Vernon, please!" Petunia whimpered meekly.

"WHAT DOES THE BOY WANT? MONEY?" he attempted to make a grab for the paper but Petunia snatched it away.

"No – no, he's invited us over for Sunday night dinner," she replied, sitting ramrod straight and refusing to look her husband in the eye.

Vernon expelled a bark-like laugh, throwing his hands into the air, "Dinner? Dinner! No Petunia, he wants our money! Knowing the little freak he'll try and wheedle some out of us at this 'dinner'! What a load of tosh! "

"He – he says we don't have to go if we don't want to," Petunia said, a plan forming in her mind. She knew this was a time Vernon needed to be deliberately manipulated.

"Then we most definitely will not be going!" he growled, sitting back down, snatching up his fork and shovelling more food into his mouth.

"But Vernon...dear," she said, fidgeting with the letter, "what will that look like? He'll think we're afraid! And I for one am quite curious as to what he's made out of himself these past years. You could finally prove what you've said about him from the beginning!"

"That he'll end up a poor, dilapidated toerag; mooching off social security?"

"Indeed," Petunia agreed.

Vernon snorted but seemed to think for a little longer.

"Alright," he finally agreed, "let's see him. Dudley will come too. Being a manager is a good title, and it'll be all the more egg on the face of that freak. What's the bet we'll be paying for the meal through our own taxes?"

He laughed at his own joke and Petunia struggled not to role her eyes. Her husband was in for a big surprise and probably some embarrassment but she couldn't find it within herself to care. She was going to see Harry again and quite frankly, she was excited.

"Okay then," she said, and then added for good measure, "I'll send the brat our reply".

Her husband grunted as he cleaned off the rest of his breakfast, "We're not giving him anything. If he so much as whispers something about money we're going to leave. And make sure you tell him not to use any of that – that freaky stuff while we're there. That stick won't protect him from my fist!"

He laughed again, though a little more darkly, and Petunia refrained from informing him that yes, in fact, 'that stick' could actually stop a punch.

"Of course not, dear" she mumbled vaguely, walking over to get some paper and a pen.

Dear Harry, she wrote before pausing.

Vernon, myself and Dudley would love to come over for dinner, although your uncle has specifically asked that no, again Petunia stopped before returning to writing, magic be performed or be in anyway obvious. Please also ask Ginny if she would like me to bring something for the meal.

Thank you for the invitation. She stopped a third time before slowly placing her pen back on the paper.

Love,

Aunt Petunia.

Not a day later another letter appeared suspiciously fast in their mailbox. Tearing the seal and making sure Vernon was still in bed (it was Saturday, afterall) she began to read.

Dear Aunt Petunia,

This is great news! Ginny and I are looking forward to it. As for details and transport, I would be happy to pick you up tomorrow as our house is rather hard to find if you haven't been there before. Would four o'clock be suitable?

Thanks,

Love, Harry.

PS: Ginny says don't worry about bringing anything, it's on us.

She smiled slightly. Although she'd been relieved everything had turned out fine Petunia still felt a strong sense of nervousness. Harry had been so removed from her life for so long now that she hardly knew how to act around him anymore. When they'd bumped into each other on the street all those days ago it had been shock and simple hospitality customs that led her through, but now she was voluntarily meeting up with him and, to tell the truth, she found herself quite lost. Recent memories of sitting crunched up in his old cupboard frequently cropped into her conscious...

Shaking herself from her stupor Petunia wrote back her 'yes' and began walking upstairs to inform Vernon. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day and she only hoped her husband and son thought the same.

"Now Dudley," Vernon pontificated, "we have to be dressed as nicely as possible. No doubt the freak will be in something completely hideous, but it doesn't mean we have to sink to his level."

Petunia saw her son roll his eyes and smiled. Dudley had been a little more accepting about meeting Harry again, and he did look quite good in his tailored jeans and crisp white button down.

Vernon had opted for something more businesslike, and she wore a pale green cocktail dress and heels. It was ten to four and they waited in silence in the lounge room. Just a few minutes ago they were worried he'd arrived early as the doorbell rang only the find out it was a salesman selling insurance.

Four o'clock came and went, and Vernon clicked his tongue impatiently, when suddenly the doorbell sounded a second time.

"Another salesperson I'll bet," her husband growled angrily, "the freak should've been here by now."

They followed him to the door and watched as he wrenched it open. Petunia gripped her clutch hard.

A man stood in the entrance. Spotless black shoes Petunia could see her reflection in, black tailored trousers matched an equally black vest which rested over a bottle green business shirt; windswept hair (although it seemed to be a little more styled than usual), eyes as green as the shirt and a wide smile greeted her.

"Hello there Ha-" she began, but was cut off.

"We don't want what you're selling!" barked Vernon, "Go pester someone else!"

He slammed the door in Harry's face and began muttering under his breath, most likely complaining about marketing tactics and annoying long lost nephews.

"Vernon," whispered Petunia, highly embarrassed, "that was Harry!"

"What?" he asked distractedly.

"That. Was. Harry!" Petunia hissed, jumping when the doorbell rang a second time.

Vernon snorted, "Whatever! I'll believe that when I see it! That man was a normal, upstanding – although slightly annoying – citizen."

Petunia huffed, straightened her dress, and went to open the door again, grimacing in embarrassment as she heard Harry's chuckles from the outside.

"Good afternoon," he said, peering in and grinning when Vernon's eyes narrowed. Petunia had a feeling he still didn't believe this was his nephew, "I'm sorry, but I don't have anything to sell you at the moment other than a nice dinner with my wife."

He stepped in and immediately gathered Petunia into a gentle hug. She relaxed as a familiar warmth spread through her and she automatically wrapped her arms around him.

"Hi there," he whispered before kissing her on the cheek and then turning to shake hands with Dudley. Petunia couldn't stop a reluctant smile spread across her face. She hadn't realised how much she'd missed him, even after a few days. His relaxed, collected presence was a stark contrast to the rest of her family's loud and boisterous personalities, and she found herself picking out similarities between Harry and her sister.

She had to restrain a laugh when she noticed Vernon gaping at Harry. It was obviously a shock (as it had been for Petunia) to see the knobbly-kneed, short, skinny boy he remembered suddenly become a significantly taller, broad-shouldered, handsome man.

"Cor Harry!" exclaimed Dudley, grinning "You've changed!"

"I could say the same for you," replied his cousin, "you been working out, Duds?"

"Of course."

Petunia saw the impressed look in her son's eyes. She suspected that he'd thought along similar lines as Vernon pertaining to Harry, although probably not as extreme; and this must've been a real revelation. There were no other words to describe how Harry appeared at the moment other than, well, successful.

Finally, Harry turned to her husband, his smile faltering slightly from the sour expression on his face.

"Uncle Vernon," he said politely, holding out his hand.

Vernon slowly shook it, "Stole that outfit did you, boy?"

Harry's lips twitched as if he were about to laugh, "Still ever the pessimist, Uncle?"

Vernon's eyes narrowed into little beads, and Petunia could sense his unease.

"Still the ever cheeky brat, I see," he growled.

Harry chuckled, "Indeed."

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Harry broke the tension, clapping his hands together, "Now, is everyone set?" and then added when he saw Vernon's expression, "Don't worry, I'll be driving you there. No 'funny business' whatsoever."

This placated Petunia a little more and she and Vernon followed Harry and Dudley out the door. She'd had an awful fear that Harry would simply use his...powers, despite their request for him not to. He would probably think it the best joke, especially with her husband.

"I don't like where this is going, Pet," Vernon hissed as they locked the door, "those clothes are probably the only nice things he has! I mean seriously, that boy was a complete no-hoper and suddenly-"

"Damn Harry!" Dudley's voice suddenly cut through, "Nice ride!"

Vernon swivelled around, his jaw dropping almost comically and his eyes widening. Petunia was trying not to laugh at his expression whilst also not bringing the same fate upon herself as she observed the scene in front of her.

Harry grinned abashedly as he stood next to a sleek, metallic-grey car; Petunia spied a shiny BMW logo on the bonnet. It was probably the single most expensive thing that had ever pulled into their driveway. Vernon opened and closed his mouth as he tried but failed to express an opinion.

"Thanks Dudley," Harry said, and Petunia could've sworn he winked at her, as though he had known what Vernon had been saying, "It's my fourth child you could say, but don't let my wife know that."

"Cor," breathed Dudley, slowly walking around the vehicle, "Its fricken awesome! What model is it?"

"M6," replied Harry, "Cost us a fair bit, but Ginny and I thought we might splurge a little; it'd been a while since we'd spent money on anything apart from the kids or the house."

"It's definitely a splurge, that's for sure," laughed Dudley, peering through one of the windows, "what year is it? My supervisor's boss's boss has the 2005 version, I think. It's a convertible, yeah?"

"This one's the 2007 model," replied Harry, "we bought it about three months ago – you're right, it is a convertible. Took us a while to decide whether to get one. You can drive it if you like, Dud."

Dudley's eyes widened, "serious?!"

"Yeah," laughed Harry, tossing him the keys, "go for it. I can direct you easily enough."

Petunia couldn't stop herself smiling. This is what it was meant to be like. The barely-there animosity that had existed at the beginning of the day between her son and nephew had vanished completely as they talked like long lost brothers. Vernon on the other hand, she noticed, had remained uncharacteristically silent.

Dudley opened the door and slid into the driver's seat as Harry smiled at her and Vernon.

"Don't worry, it's perfectly safe," he reassured them (or really only Vernon, Petunia thought), "Nothing's been done to it."

She timidly smiled at Harry and moved forward, tugging her husband with her as his eyes continued to flicker over the car. However, once they were all seated and about to set off, he decided to open his mouth.

"So boy," he sniffed from behind Harry sitting in the front passenger seat, "how much drug money did this cost you?"

Petunia, from her angle, saw the hurt flicker over Harry's face at the question, and felt a sudden flare of anger towards her husband. Here they were, trying to forge a new relationship with their nephew and all he could do was insult him! She gritted her teeth and watched as Harry did the same.

"None," he replied stiffly, as Dudley cautiously pulled out onto the road, "seeing as I have never sold drugs."

To Petunia's horror, Vernon snorted, "Blackmail then, it must've been. Which upstanding citizen did you threaten-"

"As a matter of fact, Uncle," interrupted Harry, as he pointed directions to a wisely silent Dudley, "I am what you would consider a high ranking police or military officer, so would most definitely not be running drugs or threatening people."

"Off-officer?" Vernon stuttered, suddenly a little feebler.

"Yes."

Petunia saw Vernon pale considerably. She'd long suspected he'd made a few dodgy deals at Grunning's over the years and now with the equivalent of an accomplished policeman for a nephew, was regretting it.

"Just take a left at this next intersection," Harry said as Dudley drove a little more cautiously than usual.

"So – so," Vernon began and then cleared his throat, "you're an officer."

Petunia was glad to note his tone was a lot friendlier.

"Yes," replied Harry, "Started out when I was seventeen, just after the war. Head of the department now."

"Oh," Vernon said simply, "what kind of cases do you do?"

"Oh all sorts," Harry laughed, directing Dudley down another road. Petunia noticed they were heading out towards the country.

"Investigative work mostly," Harry continued, "mainly underground crime rings. Sometimes we'll come across some pretty serious illegal artefacts though, and occasionally we'll deal with fraud."

Vernon appeared a little paler than usual.

"Oh that's ...interesting..."

"Yeah," chuckled Harry, "I can tell you now that you don't want to be in the housing market at the moment."

"But it's booming," stated Dudley, surprised, "May's been pretty lucrative, and 2006 was a cracker last year."

"Often what happens in my world precedes what happens in yours, and we've been having a lot of trouble with sub-prime mortgages lately – I'd just watch out, and make sure you can pay off any debt you may have. Our departments have been looking into a few... issues lately."

Dudley seemed thoughtful, and Petunia knew he was thinking about the house he'd just bought. Luckily, she and Vernon had payed off their mortgage a few years ago.

"Anyway," said Harry, talking to Dudley, "enough about all the boring stuff, Aunt Petunia says you've been made a manager at Tesco recently."

"Yeah," Dudley replied, grinning "got a nice pay rise with it too."

"That's good," smiled Harry, and Petunia could see that he was genuinely happy for her son, despite their less that amicable history. She had a feeling her nephew could forgive Dudley a lot more easily than Vernon; knowing Dudley was the impressionable child while he was growing up probably helped.

"Got a girl yet?" he teased.

Dudley couldn't contain a burst of laughter at the unexpected question, "Nah, not at the moment I'm afraid."

"Living up the bachelor life then?" Harry grinned.

"Something like that," Dudley snorted, "I can't remember the last time I changed my sheets."

"Ah yes," Harry joked, "I remember those days..."

"Those days? You living with a girl then?" questioned Vernon, as if the idea of Harry being with a woman before Dudley was impossible, while seemingly forgetting Harry's earlier comment about his wife. Petunia hid her smirk.

Harry laughed, "Well, I'd be a little worried if I wasn't living with my wife."

"You're wife?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled proudly, "and our three kids. Two boys and a girl."

Vernon spluttered, lost for words.

Dudley laughed a little disbelievingly, "Woah Harry, nice going."

Harry blushed but smiled even wider, running his hand through his hair, "Yeah, things are pretty amazing for me at the moment. Hectic, but in a good way."

"I'll say..."

"It's just in here," Harry continued, pointing to a dirt driveway. They'd somehow made their way to the country; however Petunia was sure it would normally take much longer. Shaking her head slightly she took in the scenery instead of dwelling on mysteries. Rolling hills of lush grass and pockets of trees filled the horizon, and not a few yards down the driveway stood a magnificent house.

Vines crept up the walls and cosy windows looked out onto the countryside. It was a deep mahogany rouge, giving it the impression of an intimate cottage while still being relatively large. Blossoms sprouted around the porch and a little brook trickled around the back. Every so often a tabby cat would lick its paw as it perched on a chair outside. Petunia noted that the car was uncharacteristically silent and Vernon's eyes were wide as saucers.

"This – this is where you live?" he asked as they stepped out of the vehicle into the sun, making their way to the front door.

"Yep," smiled Harry, "bought it a year before my eldest was born. It was pretty derelict when we got it but Ginny and I managed to fix it up pretty well."

As they walked towards the front door a figure stepped out to meet them.

"I know that face Potter," she smirked playfully, "you're blabbering on about our house again."

Petunia couldn't help but grin as Harry's wife walked up to meet them from the entrance. With her glorious head of red hair and friendly disposition Petunia could see the likeness of Lily in her that made it almost painful to watch.

"Took us nearly up to the day when James was born to complete it. I think Harry had only just finished assembling the bassinet when I went into labour."

Petunia noticed Dudley as he appreciated his cousin's spouse. It was almost comical at how dumbfounded he was. She guessed that the idea of Harry ever making it anywhere was still a little odd.

Vernon, strangely enough, was the first to speak.

"Err...hello..." he said a little breathlessly.

"Hi, you must be Vernon," Ginny answered as Harry hid a smirk then winked at her ever so subtly.

"Yes, and this is my wife Petunia and our son Dudley...it's – it's very nice to meet you..."

"Same here."

They followed the two Potters into the house where Petunia couldn't help but look around in appreciation.

It was spacious but not obnoxiously so. To the right, the light streaming in from the windows illuminated a long, scrubbed wooden table surrounded by eight chairs of the same wood. Each individual seat had its own uniquely carved back and all together they gave a mismatched but oddly harmonious impression. Petunia was never (ever) one for unconformity in furniture but she reluctantly had to agree that they corresponded to the overall theme of the cottage.

"Harry and my brothers made those chairs from a fallen tree in our garden," Ginny said, noticing her looking at them, "there were carvings everywhere. I personally love the lion one Ron did. Who knew he could be so talented!"

Petunia laughed quietly as Ginny smiled and moved over to where Harry was talking (well, attempting to talk) with Vernon. She noticed different creatures seemed to adore each chair, from dragons to eagles; they were all intricately imbued into the wood. It brought back memories of her childhood home, during times where her parents would pull any chair they could find up to the table when the whole family rolled into their tiny house for Christmas dinner. Petunia had found it claustrophobic and confusing, but Lily had revelled in the chaos, throwing her arms around relatives in bear hugs when younger, and brightly smiling and laughing with everyone when older. Petunia wondered absently how much exactly Harry knew about his mother's character. Not enough her conscious growled in guilt.

"Cor," Dudley suddenly ejected as he stood in front of the fireplace mantel opposite the table, "you must come from a big family Ginny."

Harry and Ginny laughed, and ambled over to look at the various photo frames Petunia now realised cluttered the ledge. Vernon, she noted, sniffed and reluctantly moved over to join them.

The main frame on the mantle was a large family affair. Numerous men with hair as red as Ginny's, and various women slotted in-between smiled at the camera on a bright summer's day. A young, teenage Harry with his arm wrapped tightly around an equally youthful Ginny grinned and... winked at her? Petunia shook her head slightly. The bright light from the setting sun streaming in from the back garden must have given the illusion. Harry did, afterall, say there would be very little magic.

"That was the day we announced our engagement," Harry supplied, "I was so nervous her brothers would decapitate me but it ended up being one of the best days of my life. Everyone was so happy for some good news after the war."

"So it's finished then?" Dudley asked, "that evil guy was taken out?"

Ginny nodded and with Harry began informing Dudley and (a surprisingly stoic) Vernon about their lives, but Petunia wasn't listening. Her gaze had locked onto a picture that made her heart skip a beat.

Lily.

Little ten year old Lily sat on the park bench not far from their childhood home; beaming at the camera in a pastel green cardigan Petunia remembered her mother knitting for her birthday. Beside her sat a boy of the same age, his hair lank and black around his face, and a small smile gracing his lips as he glanced at Lily with what Petunia could only interpret as childhood love. It was a rare stolen moment from what felt like eons ago.

Petunia only vaguely noticed the chatter die down around her and Ginny whisper to Harry before she ushering Vernon and Dudley to the dining room. Petunia only just realised that she was now holding the picture and that Harry had come up beside her.

"I found this photo going through some...friend's... stuff after the war," Harry began quietly, "he had been killed and I was the only one who knew the truth. That's actually him as a boy. I don't know if you remember as he was better friends with mum, but his name was-"

"Severus," Petunia whispered, "Severus Snape".

Out the corner of her eye she saw fleeting surprise on Harry's face. To be honest, Petunia had been jealous of Lily and her odd friend all those years ago. They had been able to do so many amazing things and 'plain Petunia' had been left far behind, her once solid friendship with her sister fading before her eyes. She had refused to think of him when Harry's son had told her his full name.

"I remember him well," Petunia continued, "he and Lily were practically inseparable after they met. Severus was always a strange one, and he was never particularly warm to me."

She was now looking at Harry and she could tell he was absorbing as much about his mother as he could. Guilt, which had become such a common feeling to her, resurfaced at the thought of young Harry agonizing over his parents in that tiny cupboard. She averted her eyes from him and continued.

"One year she came home from school and they didn't even speak to each other. From what I gathered – we didn't talk much – he had done something really bad. 'Unforgivable' she had said. She spoke to mum about it but I never found out the full story."

Harry swallowed, "she would have been fifteen. They had a fight at school and he called her a massively offensive name".

"Oh."

"Yeah... he ended up falling in with the wrong crowd, but even then I know he regretted hurting her for the rest of his life. He was deeply in love with her and even secretly defected when he discovered Voldemort planned to kill me. Begged him to spare her."

"Lily would never have given you up," said Petunia, looking at Harry, "she loved you too much to ever do something like that."

Harry appeared to struggle, "Thank you. It's good to hear."

Petunia smiled, "You're welcome."

"I like your moustache".

Vernon was (again) taken aback, "Er well, thank you."

Ever since Harry had mentioned he was the equivalent of a police officer Vernon had been on his best behaviour, much to Petunia's entertainment and relief. He had been notably quieter and for some odd reason, and much to his astonishment, James and Albus had taken a liking to him.

"It's really bushy," James continued through his mouthful of roast lamb and gravy, Petunia heard Dudley beside her stifle a snort.

"Is it alive? That would be funny," Albus asked.

"No, it's just like any normal mous-"

"What's a drill? Dad says you make them. Do they have moustaches?"

Vernon was becoming frustrated but for once held his tongue. Petunia knew he thought Harry remembered all his bragging about the various illicit deals he'd made.

"No they don't have moustaches. They are machines which help build things."

"Woah! That's so cool," James exclaimed excitedly, and Vernon seemed slightly mollified from the boy's enthusiasm.

"Do they run off ecklectricity?" Albus asked, eyes huge, "Grandad Weasley says most stuff does."

"Yes they do," Vernon replied, more forthcoming, "they force nails into wood in order to keep things together."

"Wow! Do you have one?"

"Are they big?"

"Could I drill my fingers together like a hinkypunk?"

"Boys," Harry warned, noticing the overwhelmed expression in his uncle's face, "questions can come later. Let Uncle Vernon eat his food."

"Yes dad," they replied together, although Petunia noticed James open his mouth for another question but then quickly close it after his mother raised an eyebrow at him.

Dudley still seemed to be struggling not to laugh, although he appeared to have calmed down somewhat. Petunia smiled and went back to her roast. It really was quite delicious; she would have to ask Ginny for the recipe.

To be honest, Petunia thought the night was going a lot better than what she thought it would. She had been (rightly) afraid Vernon would degenerate into petty insults, which she knew Harry, (if he was anything like his father), would not take lightly in his own home in front of his family. James Potter had afterall, during the one time they properly met up, exploded on Vernon with a flurry of insults so scathing even Lily had given him a disapproving look.

"So how is Grunning's going?" Harry asked amicably.

Vernon glanced up a little warily from his potatoes, "Pretty normal. I'm planning to retire in three years."

"Oh that sounds nice," smiled Ginny, "it must feel good after such a long career."

Vernon puffed out his chest and Petunia almost rolled her eyes.

"Nearly thirty-two years in the same company," he boasted, "don't see that very often now."

"That's so long," Albus said in wonder.

If anything, Vernon became even more chuffed after that and Petunia hid her smile behind her napkin. It seemed her husband was enjoying James and Albus's company more than he let on.

It took only five more minutes for everyone to clear their plates, and afterwards the brothers had begged their dad if they could go play Monopoly while they waited for desert.

"Only if you're good and take your plates to the sink," Harry had conceded.

And that's how the strangest scene to have ever happen was conceived in front of Petunia's eyes. James and Albus had dutifully dropped their dishes in the sink and then headed straight back to the table, not to assault their parents with anymore questions, but to pull Vernon from his seat by the hand into the living room and have him, (astonishment and all), sit down and start playing Monopoly with them.

Harry began packing the table up for desert and Dudley seemed to be in an engaging conversation with Ginny after she had placed a full glass of wine in Vernon's hand ("You may need this"), which he took with a grateful but furtive glance before taking a hearty swig. Petunia was sure he felt completely out of his depth, especially without the option of insulting the children's parents.

She picked some plates off the table and followed Harry into the kitchen, where he seemed to be busy checking on the treacle tart in the oven.

"Shouldn't be more than ten minutes," he said, standing up and turning to her.

Petunia smiled, "That's good. Treacle tart was your mother's favourite."

Harry's grin was wide, "It's mine too."

"Harry," Petunia began, deciding she would have to be brave, for his sake, and let him know more about his mother, "I'm – I'm sorry you never really knew about your parents growing up. I wasn't – and I'm still not in some respects – in a good place, and I know my sister would have skinned me alive for the stuff I did-"

She broke off, unsure of how to continue and feeling the prickling of tears in her eyes threatening to overflow. Petunia looked at Harry almost fearfully, however her gaze didn't meet hostile eyes but instead the face of someone who had just had a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

"Please don't worry yourself Aunt Petunia," he said quietly, "I've had the opportunity to think long and hard about my childhood, and I forgave you long ago. It was dragging me down and letting go of my anger towards you set me free, allowed me to be a better father and husband. Hearing your remorse however, has convinced me I made the right decision."

Petunia couldn't breathe. In all her versions of this scenario he had thrown her out of his house. Cast her away for the audacity to raise the huge elephant in the room that was his childhood. She swallowed hard and tried not to let her emotions spill over.

"Well – I – thank you Harry," she stuttered, "It means a lot to me to hear that".

Harry nodded and she continued.

Clutching at her bag she gestured out towards the now empty dining table, "I actually have something you might like."

He smiled kindly and they made their way to sit down.

"I know you probably have some pictures of your parents, but I thought you might like some from when Lily was younger," she said, pulling a thick envelope from her bag and opening it.

Harry grinned eagerly, "The only one I've seen of her, which wasn't at her wedding, was the picture on the park bench."

"Well," she started, pulling out the first photo, "This is her at her gymnastics class when she was nine. We trained together and even did synchronised routines."

Harry stared at the slightly faded photo of his mother, not two years older than James. Her young face was laughing as she twirled a long ribbon about her body. Petunia could easily read the happiness and intrigue on his face. He set it down carefully as Petunia gave him the next one.

"This is Lily and your father the year they started dating. She was most adamant he visit for tea".

Harry stared again at the memory frozen in time. Lily was snuggled up against James's side as they relaxed on a plush couch. They were both smiling at the camera and in the background he spied an older woman picking a glass up from a table. His grandmother, he assumed.

"This one is when James crashed your mother's baby shower," Petunia said with a little smile, "I was only there for a little bit as there was a lot of um...magic... around."

Petunia handed this photo to Harry and noticed his suspiciously wet eyes as he looked at his parents. She knew he would like this one a lot. James had pulled Lily's hips towards him and buried his face in the large bump that would have been Harry. His mother in a beautiful long, white sundress had leaned back with her hands in his hair as if playfully trying to push him off; her face frozen mid-laugh.

"They were so happy..." Harry said quietly.

Petunia nodded and pulled out the next photo. This continued on for a while longer, Harry quietly absorbing the images of (mostly) his mother. Occasionally a laugh would escape him when the photo was particularly amusing.

"They look like us, Ginny," Harry said quietly, when his wife came up behind him with Lily on her hip.

He was holding a photo of James and Lily in what Petunia knew to be her childhood home. They were deep in concentration playing chess against each other, and she could spy her younger self glancing at them from a book she was reading.

"They do, don't they," Ginny grinned, adjusting her daughter.

"Yeah..." Harry smiled, and then his eyes widened as he spied a slice of cake next to his mother

"The treacle tart!" He exclaimed, shooting up and moving swiftly into the kitchen.

He returned moments later with a slightly darker than normal, but still edible tart, and placed it on the table.

"Bit overdone but I think it'll end up alright," he said as Ginny laughed.

The Petunia of old would have scoffed at the slightly burnt edges and refused to touch it, but now she actually found herself consciously wanting to eat it, if just to fit in and engage in the ensuing conversation.

"Yummy!" cried Lily, her chubby hands swinging around Ginny's face.

Harry chuckled, "poor thing doesn't know the difference."

"I'll just go get everyone to the table," Ginny volunteered, moving towards the sitting room where Vernon and the boys had set up Monopoly. Petunia almost forced Ginny back, knowing in her mind that her husband was most likely grumbling dejectedly with James and Albus. She followed behind instead, just in case.

Dudley was sitting on a chair overlooking the scene. When Petunia and Ginny entered the room he looked up and smiled.

"Not something you see everyday," he chuckled, "I haven't seen dad so lively in years."

Petunia, after glancing at Dudley, had shifted her gaze to her husband as she listened to her son's words; and boy was he right!

Vernon, in all his hefty glory, was plonked on the floor, a ramshackle looking Monopoly board splayed out by his legs and two children crawling all over him. His hand was held bolt upright in the air clutching a wad of pink paper money, his other hand was swatting away little fingers trying to grab it.

"You cheated!" yelled James, dissolving into giggles when Vernon tickled him in the ribs with his spare hand. Albus tried to use the distraction to reach over and snatch the cash but Vernon dove out of the way onto his side, his face tomato red with laughter. The boys took the opportunity of their adversary going down by launching themselves at him but Vernon countered with expert precision, pulling his arm down and cocooning the prize to his chest; Albus and James's little fingers were no match for his clutched hands.

After some more struggling and laughter, suddenly he seemed to let go of the money, but strangely nothing floated from his grip.

"Where's it gone, boys?" he asked in mock seriousness, still not realising he had other company.

"You've hidden it!" exclaimed Albus, his eyes flittering around Vernon's massive frame.

"But where?" her husband answered, "I have no place to put it!"

"In your sleeves!" yelled James, but Vernon just shook his arms and no Monopoly money appeared.

"Nope," he answered conspiringly, "it was..."

The boys held their breaths.

"IN MY BELLY!"

Petunia couldn't suppress her snort. Vernon was now pulling out the fake money from one of his many fat folds and tossing it everywhere. James and Albus shrieked in delight, quick to collect their reward.

"Is he-" began Petunia.

"Drunk? Yes," Dudley grinned, "too much wine I believe. I think you topped him up a bit too much, Ginny."

Vernon had now been defeated. Albus and James had him scrunched up defensively as they dug their little hands in to tickle his sides, his moustache quivering with suppressed laughter.

It was so entertaining Petunia didn't even realise Harry now stood beside her.

"Well I'll be damned," he almost whispered. Petunia glanced up to see a tight, nearly wistful smile on his lips. She guessed he was glad his sons were able to experience the fun side of their paternal family (she had no doubt Ginny's brothers were doubly boisterous), but it must also hurt, she realised, to know Vernon could have provided the same experiences to him as a boy.

"Maybe they can have desert after us," Ginny whispered as Vernon bellowed and lunged at James, who squealed and jumped out of the way, laughing hysterically.

Joined by Dudley they made their way back to the dining room; although, Petunia didn't miss the way Ginny clasped Harry's hand, or how she placed a comforting peck on his shoulder.

"You've done well, boy!"

Harry beamed, even though he did know his uncle was still drunk. Supported by Dudley as they stepped out of Harry's car, Vernon clapped his nephew on the shoulder and squeezed.

"I know I was probably a little harsh on you," he continued, slurring his words, "but you ended up okay didn'tcha!"

He laughed heartily as Dudley guided him over the front steps and into the house. Petunia was glad to see Harry was not put out by his uncle's drunkenness. It was, she assumed, probably the only positive thing he'd ever said to Harry. The alcohol must have loosened his pride as well as his tongue.

As her son and husband disappeared into the house Petunia turned to Harry.

"I had a great time tonight," she said wringing her hands a little. Now that it came to the goodbyes she wasn't sure how to proceed.

"It wasn't a problem. I know Ginny enjoyed it too." Harry smiled warmly at her, "I can't thank you enough for those photographs either".

"I should have given them to you when you were a boy," Petunia virtually whispered, her voice shaky.

Harry sighed, running his hand though hair, "look, please don't feel too bad Aunt Petunia. My childhood is in my past - just like a lot of not so great things that happened to me - and that's where they'll stay. It took me a while to figure out, but I'm a better person if I just let a few things go. And I think that's what you should do too. Let go of your aversion to magic, but also do the same thing with your guilt."

Petunia had slowly been taking on a gobsmacked expression as he spoke, which by the end had quickly dissolved into racking sobs. Harry was so forgiving it was nearly painful. In a way she wanted him to scream at her for all the pain she'd inflicted on him. Somehow, in her head, this beautiful gift of forgiveness was so much harder to process.

"I – I" she blubbered, looking anywhere but at her nephew.

Out of nowhere strong arms pulled her into an equally solid chest and Petunia hiccoughed in surprise. Harry smelled like fragrant aftershave and treacle tart, and his hug made her feel like she was back in the cocooning arms of her father. However, it was Lily she was most reminded of when he spoke.

"It's ok," he said softly, "you'll be fine."

She didn't know how long she clutched at him and in her mind it didn't phase her one iota. All that mattered was the guilt slowly leaching from her like poison.

They finally broke apart (much too soon for her liking) and she nodded dazedly as he smiled at her, saying words she absorbed only a little as he led her to the front door.

"I'll mail you again soon and we can organise something else," he murmured, squeezing her shoulder, "but for now I think you need to sleep".

Petunia nodded slowly and kissed him on the cheek, vaguely noticing she was smiling as he waved goodbye and sat in his car. Too soon he had driven off.

Gradually, she shut the door behind her and turned on the spot to face the entranceway. The familiar pangs of guilt still prickled at her insides when she spotted the dreaded cupboard under the stairs, but unlike before they faded quickly.

Walking into the kitchen she obscurely noticed how very pristine it was. Opening the cupboard under the sink she saw her dozens of cleaning products. Did she really need all this?

No, she answered herself, not at all.

Suddenly gripped by an unknown force she grabbed a whole armful of the various bottles and sprays, and marched herself down the corridor. She flung the partially open door of the cupboard under the stairs, and with an almightily roar dumped her useless cleaning products in the place where useless things go. Spinning around and stalking into the laundry, Petunia wrenched open the linen closet and pulled the numerous mops and dustpans from their perfectly ordered places. They were unneeded and superfluous, she had enough cleaning products to last eons! The only purpose they served, she realised with conviction, was to remind her of her ridiculous obsession with perfection. Like in every other household, their uselessness would now be relegated to the dusty cupboard under the stairs.

"There!" she heaved, even smiling as tears rolled down her face, "Now it's a proper cupboard. As it should have always been."

Feeling the lightest she had ever felt, Petunia kicked the door shut with a guttural 'argh" and grinned through her tears before she stood straight, with her chin held high, and marched upstairs.

Harry was free, and now, so was she.

A/N: A lot of this story was dedicated to Harry's materialistic wealth. I thought that although being 'friendly' with Vernon again, Harry is not a perfect man and therefore would probably want to rub it a little in his uncle's face the 'success' (or how Vernon perceives success) which he was told he'd never obtain. Honestly, I thought Harry deserved some sort of vindication.

Anyways, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts!