Chapter Text
Rose Evans looked down at the sleeping two year old in the car-seat and felt a little sad. She'd always loved a good road-trip and she could remember fondly the weekend trips that she and Lyle had taken with the girls. Naturally, when Petunia had invited them down to Surrey for a few days around Christmas, she'd immediately started to plan a leisurely drive. Lyle had been forced to put a stop to that; reminding her that they had Harry now, and that flying would be a great deal less likely to result in certain specific kinds of trouble.
Harry, while being a generally calm and sweet little boy, was still two years old. It was an age that came a penchant for fuss, struggle, and easy boredom. Harry had been known to make his own entertainment, occasionally through less than conventional means. He'd never done any harm, and likely wouldn't be capable of it for some time. All the same, the last thing they needed was someone from the magical government deciding that a car making train noises, or barking like a dog, was too conspicuous, and 'shouldn't Harry be with people who can fix these things before they get out of hand'. An hour long flight and a shorter ride in a rental car was easily a safer option.
Rose accepted that, but wondered if she'd still be getting around well enough to love a road trip when Harry was old enough to love one too. That wasn't her only concern either. She was sitting in the back seat with Harry, while Lyle drove, and a glance towards the front window revealed a pristine little village, and a sign bidding them a polite welcome to Little Whinging.
"It's a shame that we had to fly," Rose said to Lyle. "I could have brought Pet a lemon tart, or a sponge or something."
"It'll be fine, Love," Lyle soothed. "If you must, I'm sure there's a grocery somewhere. I could find it and you could bake for Pet when we get there. Like as not, she'll have made something already. Dudley likes his sweets."
Harry, who'd been dozing lightly, perked up to ask, "Duddy? At Duddy's house?"
"Not yet, Dear," Rose answered. She brushed a gentle hand over his face and leaned down, pressing a kiss between his eyes just to watch them cross. "We're almost there."
Harry tried to crane up and see out of the window, over the sides of the car-seat. He stretched from the top of his dark, curly head to his sneaker encased toes, pushing even his small green eyes toward the window, but it was for naught. He got only the briefest glance before giving up and tightening his hold on Padfoot, pressing his face into the toy as he yawned a little.
"Nice, Grandmum?" Harry asked after a moment. "Duddy house nice?"
"I suppose that we'll see, Harry." Rose said. "I've never been. Your aunt was very cross with me when she moved in."
"Cross?" Harry asked. Rose nodded but turned back to Lyle, remembering something.
"I've told you that Vernon is having his sister over as well? This will be a proper family holiday."
Lyle hmmed a response. He'd never been fond of Vernon and Vernon's continued absence from the Petunia and Dudley's monthly visits had done nothing to improve Lyle's opinion. He didn't imagine Vernon's sister would be much better.
"Cross?" Harry asked again.
"Never with you, Dear," Lyle answered fondly, "and not particularly so with Vernon. He's a perfectly serviceable chap for Petunia. He's done well for the three of them."
Rose thought that no one in all the world could damn with faint praise with the same charming efficiency that Lyle has displayed. She counted down from five in her mind before he ruined it, adding, "He's just a bit boring and self-important is all."
"You haven't seen him in years," Rose pointed out. "He'd just started at that new job of his last time. Perhaps he's settled down now that he's more sure in his comforts. People change."
"Not your parents, they don't," Vernon grumbled under his breath.
Petunia pretended not to hear him. Not for the first time, she wished she'd just left Vernon at home and brought Dudley to her parents' for Christmas. Failing that, she could have seen them the weekend after, but it was such a long drive, through snow. Besides, it was time that her parents got to come and see her home. Vernon could deal with them coming in the same way he put up with her monthly trips to see them.
"It just doesn't make sense," Vernon said for the hundred and thirty-first time.
Petunia knew why he couldn't understand. Her relationship with her parents, and with Lily, had been so much easier to talk about when it was simpler. Back when they'd been engaged, and she'd been angry and betrayed, it had been the easiest thing in the world to lay her pain out for Vernon, who wouldn't hold with any of the unnatural nonsense that had torn her family apart. Now that things were different, well... things were different. Petunia hadn't even told him that she was leaving to see them again until she was already a third of the way there, just two months after she'd left Harry with them.
That first visit had just been so impulsive. One moment she was doing the laundry, in the next a handful of Dudley's shirts and another of pants and trousers were being shoved into his diaper bag. A breath later and she'd packed her own things and called for a cab. She told herself that it had been the laundry; the practical realization that infants went through a lot of it. She'd left her mother and father with just Harry, the basket she'd found him in, and the blanket that had covered him. (In truth, it was likely the green of Dudley's jumper. She hadn't really looked, but didn't Harry have eyes that shade, like... like his mother? Like Rose? Why hadn't she looked? What else had she missed? Had he had wounds besides the cut on his face?)
She'd called Vernon from a payphone at the train station, explaining where they were and when they'd be home, but then hanging up because it was hard to hear past the sudden memory of a little red haired girl calling, "You have to see! Petunia?!"
She'd known it was ridiculous. She hadn't felt any more able to look at that small face than she'd been when she'd covered it with the blanket she'd found him in and broken speed limits across the country to give him away. She had nothing more to offer him or them than she'd had that morning. She'd been pleased not to have to see the boy or her parents, or think about her sister in the two months since, but she couldn't just stay away.
Her parents had cared for her, and welcomed her home even when she all she brought were fresh loss and new burdens. They'd taken Harry in when she'd shown them that she couldn't stand the thought of raising him, and told her that she was still loved, even if they weren't exactly pleased with her. It would be alright. She could come and see them all anytime. Faced with such a welcome, with such grace and love, she'd been cold and selfish. She owed them more than that. She hadn't even really looked at the boy, and maybe she owed her sister more than that too. That was all the clearer when she'd arrived, and they'd been good on their word; patient and kind to her and elated to meet Dudley for the first time.
Petunia wanted desperately to welcome them in return.
Of course all of that would seem like madness to Vernon, who'd had a perfectly traditional upbringing and relationship with his own parents from the moment of his birth to their timely and appropriate retirement to the coast, but there it was.
Petunia opened her mouth to explain her thoughts, then said only, "I know, Dear."
She walked over to the playpen and handed Dudley the stuffed bear he'd dropped (thrown), just out of reach.
"You'll play nice with Harry, Sweetums?" she asked.
"Harry nice!" Dudley shouted. "An' Grandmum and Grandda!?"
Vernon sighed behind her as she replied, "All nice, my good little boy. All excited to see you, and your Aunt Marge is nice too."
Dudley wriggled his joy at the praise and walked over to the window. Petunia stepped over the gate and followed him. She picked him up, and pressed her face into the top of his head, blonde curls tickling her nose as they watched the road and the afternoon sunlight played on the falling snow.
The Evans' rental car came to slow stop in the driveway at number 4. Lyle smiled in spite of himself at the sight of Petunia and Dudley standing in front of the window, and he stepped out of the car giving them a wave. He could nearly hear Dudley's happy shouts from where he was, and his smile grew still wider as he walked around to the backseat to help with Harry.
"Here!" The boy was saying again and again, squirming so much that he nearly got out of the car seat before Rose could undo the buckles. The sound of small feet behind Lyle made him turn just in time to see Dudley, coat only half on and wearing a single shoe rushing towards him, only to see Harry and alter his course, jumping up and down as Rose helped the other boy down. The two started a hug that looked a bit like they were wrestling with padfoot squished between them. Lyle laughed aloud.
"Let's get inside, you two. Who wants to go with Grandda?" He asked, offering the boys a hand. Dudley took it, but Harry reached for Rose, who'd come around the car from the other side, carrying her purse and some of Harry's things. The four of them walked together to the open front door, where Petunia stood, a reserved smile firmly in place as she waved them in from the cold.
Once inside, Dudley sought and received greetings from both grandparents while Harry walked over and looked up at Petunia, smiling but hanging back, shy as he said, "'lo Aun' Pet."
Lyle watched them from the corner of his eye, still attending to Dudley, but prepared to step in if needed.
Petunia touched his cheek with a gentle hand, and replied, "Hello Harry. Still our good boy?"
Harry nodded. Then he stepped closer, and hid his face in her skirt as he said, "Miss you."
Petunia rubbed his back lightly, replying, "You too. It's nice to have you here. Mum, Da, I have tea ready. Say hello to Vernon and get settled a bit; I'll bring it out. He's just through there, in the living room."
She waved them towards the large front room and walked down the hall into the kitchen. Dudley led the way in, pulling Harry in a rush to show his cousin where he lived.
When Lyle entered the room, Dudley was pushing an abnormally hesitant Harry towards Vernon, who seemed torn between laughter at his son's enthusiasm and the desire to step back and away from the small, fey creature being dragged toward him.
"That's your Uncle, Harry," Lyle introduced, walking over and picking Harry up, "he's Dudley's father, like Aunt Pet is Dudley's mum. Say hello?"
Harry, who'd hidden his face in Padfoot at the first opportunity, peaked out with one eye, and a small twist of his head. He gave a quick wave, which Vernon, blinking, returned.
Harry pulled back a little from the stuffed dog pressed against Lyle's chest, facing his uncle as directly as he could while being held, and said, "'appy Chrissmas. Nice 'ouse."
Caught entirely off guard, Vernon replied, "Thank you. Happy Christmas."
Then Harry turned back to Lyle.
"Pay?" He asked. "Pay wif' Duddy?"
Lyle let him down so that he could do that, placing him inside the playpen, then helping Dudley over the low gate as well.
Behind him, Rose gave a warm laugh.
"He's said it for all of us, Vernon," Rose said, stepping forward and ignoring the way Vernon's eyes narrowed as she touched his arm lightly in greeting. "You and Petunia have a lovely home. Thank you for having us over. How'd you settle on this village?"
Lyle took the opportunity to sit down and let Rose handle the small talk as he looked around the room.
The boys were enjoying themselves, with Harry making Padfoot chase after a ball that Dudley rolled. Occasionally they'd stop to look at the tree, glowing with lights not far from the pen.
The room was as neat as pin, save for the area where the boys played and Lyle smiled to himself. Petunia never could stand an untidy room. It had been one of several reasons that Petunia had refused to share the nursery once Lily had been old enough to move around and put things out of place. She'd needed her own space to grow and settle, had possibly needed more space than Lyle and Rose could give her and still be fair to their youngest daughter. Petunia had found that space. Lyle could see as much in the care she'd taken with the house. That warmed him even as Rose stood and left him with Vernon, claiming a desire to help Petunia with the tea.
After a few long moments, Vernon turned his eyes to the boys and watched, as Lyle had.
Dudley was standing at the gate to the pen, turning his head in a comically large motion as he took in the room.
"Mummy?" Dudley asked his father.
"She's in the kitchen," Vernon told him. "She'll be back."
Dudley looked over at Harry, scrunched his face up in confusion and then turned back to his father. "Harry mummy?"
Vernon hadn't expected the question, and Lyle waited to see what he'd say, but Harry answered for him.
"No kitchen," Harry said, slowly. He poked his chest and turned to Lyle, asking "Here? Mummy an' Da go here?"
Lyle nodded saying, "Always there."
Dudley looked more confused; his small expression darkening. Then he yelled out "MUMMY!"
Petunia strode in and Dudley raised his arms to be picked up. Lyle went to Harry before the younger boy could reach for him, and smiled when Harry handed him the ball that Dudley had been playing with before.
"Thank you," he told Harry, and leaned down to roll the ball on the floor. Harry launched padfoot at it then laughed as he rushed over to the plush dog.
Rose walked in with tea and began setting up at the dining room table. Petunia took Dudley with her to get juice cups for the boys.
When Petunia had left the room, Vernon, eyes narrowed in suspicious asked, "His parents are...?"
Lyle stifled in eye-roll as he answered, "We teach him that they're in his heart, because it's true, and he's too young to understand what happened to them."
"Ah yes," Vernon replied stuffily. "Of course. Good."
"Glad you agree," Rose said, walking over to pick Harry up and sit him in her lap. Lyle joined them at the table, and Vernon followed. During their small meal, Vernon alternated between staring at Harry as one does a bomb, and ignoring his existence.
Petunia watched the boy as well, but with a kind of distant nostalgia that mingled with attentiveness. Lyle wondered if she saw Lily in Harry. Lyle worried that he himself did, far too often. Still they were sitting down to tea in Petunia's house and his oldest daughter had gotten his wife's favorite biscuits. They'd come a long, often cold way. That there was further yet to go couldn't change that.