'For what it's worth: It's never too late to be whoever you want to be. I hope you live a life you're proud of, and if you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start over.' – F. Scott Fitzgerald

Chapter Five: Homecoming

Two and a half years later.

Vernon Dursley was not a complicated man.

He loved his son and his nephew, both 4 years old. He loved his job, being his own boss, and getting his hands dirty. He loved food, and had learnt to cook a damn good steak (if he did say some himself), but he also loved exercise – the gym, a game of footy. He loved his friends, those who were still around, and those he'd lost.

All in all, Vern loved his life.

There had been good times, and some frankly awful times. He still mourned the loss of his brother and sister-in-law, James and Lily. He mourned the loss of Harry's parents, and the role that they had played in all of their lives.

He had nightmares about Paddy and Rem, and what they had been through, shortly after James and Lily's deaths. Arrested, charged and jailed, for a crime that neither of them committed. When he thought of the dementors that stood guard at Azkaban Jail, he felt weak at the knees.

He was grateful that both of his friends had been returned to him, as uncles for his boys. That they had come through the experiences – not unscathed – but stronger, and more mature.

Vernon mourned the loss of Peter, the young man he had once known him to be, and the murderer-by-proxy that he had become.

He missed his wife. Not Petunia herself, but the idea of what he had thought being married would be like. Petunia had never been the right person for him – maybe in another lifetime, in a different world – but not for Vern Dursley and the man he had become.

He loved his boys fiercely, perhaps overcompensating for Harry's loss of both parents, and for Dudley, growing up without his mother. But he knew that he would do everything he could to help his boys become good, kind and selfless. They would not be spoilt, or overfed, beaten or abused. They would grow up knowing the love of their father, their uncles, and each other.

Perhaps Harry would leave one day, traveling by train to the school his parents and uncles had been to. Perhaps, Dudley would go too.

Maybe they'd both end up at the local high school, or one at each.

No matter what happened, Vernon knew that he was loved, that his boys were loved.

Vern Dursley was not a complicated man. But he was happy.