Learning to Be

Learning to Be

Viopathartic

A/N: Hello again!

I couldn’t help it! I took another challenge. This one was created by MarauderByMoonlight.

Here's the link if you want to check it out: http://talk.portkey.org/index.php?showtopic=26345

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The sign in the front said that the playground was an area where people may go for recreation. To make it simpler, they should have said, "Playground: To have fun."

Families and friends head out to playgrounds when they feel as if nothing else could entertain them. The older members of the family would sit themselves at the picnic table and fondly watch as the youngsters scamper to the seesaw or the monkey bars. The mothers would nervously call out to their children while their husbands would talk with their mates about the football game on Friday.

Summer was the time of birds, sun, and laughter. Kids ran around, laughing and breathing hard at the same time as they played their invisible games. You go there and I will go there and then…They never have a set of rules. They didn't care. Rules? What rules?

To Dudley, the playground was not only the place to remember the joys of life, but it was also a place to clear the mind. The one that he was currently standing in was his former playground. He lived nearby as a kid. He remembered when he was little, when he was an innocent being, he loved swinging.

It was the act of pumping your legs just so you could get at a certain height. When you finally get to the highest point, you jump.

You don't care how high or how far; the excitement makes you carefree. And once you finally land on your feet, you smile widely as if you just defeated the hardest obstacle in life.

Dudley missed it of course. He missed the days before he turned into a bully. No one followed him around and no one expected him to beat up a kid 'cause he was Big D. He scoffed softly; it had only been 5 years and he was already regretting his past.

Five years had changed him. He went to the university, earned a business degree, fell in love, and well, life was fine. Dudley had changed. He practiced weight-lifting and wrestling in college, but stopped competitively. Instead, he focused on losing weight rather than gaining. It worked. He was now able to wear a trench coat without having to look like The Hulk. His body seemed to lengthen and he was taller, therefore appearing skinnier but still muscular.

Dudley sighed in his reverie and ran a hand through his brown hair.

"Daddy!"

He turned around, eyes seeking the little voice that called for him. His daughter, Mary, waved energetically at him and pointed to the swings. Dudley sighed, smiling softly. He nodded, causing his daughter to jump up excitedly and race towards the swings.

"Remember how we used to beat up some kids here?"

Dudley turned his head and saw Piers Polkiss smiling down at him. He immediately stood up and the two friends shook hands. They were both busy with family and work so they never got the time to meet up with each other.

"Hey, Piers. Andrea went to book club too?"

Piers made a face and answered, "Yeah. I figured I should take care of the kids before Andrea yells at me." He and Andy met around the same time that Dudley and Ally met. Piers had also changed for the better though his tough qualities would sometimes resurface when something pisses him off. The last time Dudley talked to Piers was 2 weeks ago because he had to go on a business trip.

Both of them laughed and then lapsed into silence.

"Yeah, yeah. Bullying others was a hobby of ours a long time ago," Dudley said, keeping his eyes on Mary.

"We were horrible, weren't we?"

Dudley shrugged. "We can't deny it...but at least you changed. At least I've changed. I mean, look at us! We have kids! You and Andrea have two and another one coming along. Me and Ally...well, we have Mary."

"It's odd to think about it. How we terrorized the other kids but we don't want the same to happen to ours," Piers. He took a small sip from his coffee cup and waved at Heather, his four-year-old daughter who was climbing the monkey bars with agility. When she climbed up to the top she lifted up her arms and squealed. "Heather is so angelic. She definitely inherited that from Andy."

Dudley saw his daughter mounting the swings. She quickly gained height and was now giggling as she swung back and forth, her long brown hair flying behind her.

"Same with Mary. Wouldn't hurt a fly," he whispered. He soon noticed a gang of boys her age approaching the swings. His stomach suddenly sunk as he realized what was happening. Fatherly instinct kicking in, Dudley slowly stood up from the picnic table and was about to head over there when Piers put a hand on his arm.

"Hold on. Mary's a strong one. Let's see her deal with this."

"But those boys--"

"Mary'll take care of them. If she can't, she has you and me."

Dudley looked at Piers uncertainly. He was letting his daughter deal with those kids for the first time. What if they hurt her? What if she breaks down and cries?

Mary dug her heels into the sand, and her swing suddenly came to a stop. The smallest of the boys, the leader ironically, sneered and said something. His cronies laughed.

Mary merely looked at him, chin raised high and body rigid.

Dudley smirked. Never mind. He shouldn't doubt his own daughter. He turned to Piers and said, "Yeah, you're right. She's gonna be--"

"Henry!" A woman shrieked.

The young group of boy already scattered, but only one remained with Mary. It was leader. Dudley thought the boy just decided to stay, but as he and Piers rushed over, he realized that Henry couldn't move.

"What happened to him?"

"Marge, what's wrong?" A man, her husband, approached the woman and grasped her by the arm.

The motherly woman named Marge shook her arm away. "H-he's paralyzed! He can't--oh, honey! Say something to Mum," she pleaded as she knelt down and shook her young son. The little boy's eyes moved from side to side, in yet his body remained frozen.

"We should call the ambulance," said Piers and rushed away to do just that.

Dudley swore under his breath and looked over at his daughter. The swing was empty but Mary stood next to it, holding the metal string with win hand, gazing at the frozen boy with wide eyes. He saw tears beginning to form. Immediately, he knew what he had to do.

"C'mon Mary, we have to go," he whispered earnestly, beckoning her to come. His daughter raised her arms and Dudley picked her up, cradling her softly as she held him by his neck.

"I-I didn't mean to, Daddy," she sobbed softly as the two walked away. Dudley could still hear the mother shrieking and the men calling for help. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose.

The swings. The frozen boy. Mary. It's happening.

It's been years since he saw strange, unexplainable things like that. Those were the years where his cousin still lived with him.

But how could it be possible? He was a Mug—Moogle?—Mongrel! There, that was the word. Ally was also the same as him so how could Mary be…

Later.

"I know, I know," he said, stroking his daughter's back.

"He was making me get off the swings. I didn't want to! I wanted him to go away, to stop, and--" Mary cries increased by a tenfold.

Dudley smiled nervously as he passed onlookers who were wondering about the commotion. He shifted Mary in his arms and hugged her tighter. "We'll talk when we get home. Don't worry, love."

To his surprise, the police arrived and were already spreading yellow tape around the park's perimeter.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but we have to keep the park closed. The ambulance will be arriving soon and their EMT will investigate the boy and see--"

"We have to leave," Dudley loudly interrupted the officer, moving quickly to the side.

The officer, who seemed to be around Dudley's age, appeared to be shocked at his direct tone. He quickly recovered and stood his ground. "That is not possible at the moment, sir. We need to--"

"I wanna go home," his daughter whispered in his ear.

"There might be something dangerous in the perimeter so we need to---"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU NEED TO DO! NOW MOVE BEFORE I PUMMEL YOUR FACE!" He suddenly yelled.

Mary hiccupped and whimpered.

Dudley took a deep breath and lowered his voice, "Look...my daughter is extremely upset. She needs her mother. She needs to be home."

A distance away, they heard a joyous yell and they turned around to find the mother hugging her son fiercely. Henry seemed to be able to move now.

"Well, I guess you can leave n-now..."

Dudley heard no more and rushed past the man with his daughter in his arms.

---

"…and every since 5th year, I've been playing Quidditch," finished Ginny.

The conference erupted in applause and cheers. The sound of cameras clicking and flashes blinded Harry even as he stood in the back of the room. Auror training let out early. He managed to slip in unnoticed five minutes ago, and so far, everything was fine. The media's attention was focus on Holyhead Harpies and the applause was for Ginny, his girlfriend.

"I'll take the next question," she said, smiling. All of the reporters yelled for her attention, and she finally picked someone near the back of the room. A mousy young man stood from his seat and nervously cleared his throat.

"Uh…Miss Weasley. It's very well known that you are dating H-Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived…"

"Yes?" Ginny asked sharply. She just noticed Harry standing in the back.

Harry swore under his breath, wondering if there was a way to get out.

Useless.

"Hey, there he is!" Someone from the front exclaimed. This set off chaos. The reporters ran from their seats and sprinted to where he stood, poking him with their pens, shoving their magical microphones in his face. He pushed all of it away with his arm and yelled, "No comment!"

Luckily, an opening formed behind him, and Harry was able to escape.

He hated this side of life. He never seemed to get away from the media. After running for more than a minute, he glanced behind and saw no one coming. He apparated on the spot, not even bothering to think about his destination.

He collapsed to the ground at an unknown location and finally breathed. No wonder he was so good at Auror training. Running away from rabid creatures was his niche. Hopefully, Ginny won't be too mad at him.

Harry stood from his crouched position and looked around. Now he knew where he was. He was home.

After the Final Battle, him, Ron, and Hermione went back to Hogwarts to make up their seventh year. Everyone passed, earning high N.E.W.Ts. Many people expected the Golden Trio to drift apart; that was what life after the school days was all about. In yet, they were proven wrong.

Harry needed his friends in Hogwarts, and he still needed them now. The Trio all decided to move in together.

In the Muggle World.

Now, Ron argued profusely when they put out the suggestion. Harry and Hermione loved the idea; they grew up as muggles, but have been living in the wizarding world half their lives. Ron was greatly uncomfortable. He knew nothing about electronics and all the confusing rituals that Muggles participated in.

He finally gave in when Harry and Hermione suggested bringing some Wizarding items and such into their home. The house on 52 Forest Wood Road looked normal from the outside. It was painted a delicate shade of blue and had dazzling colors of red, purple, and yellow flowers in its garden. The lawn was well managed, green and healthy in the summer.

But inside was something different. The house had three floors counting the basement. The first consisted of the living room, a small bathroom, and a kitchen. The second were the bedrooms, each equipped with full bathrooms. The last was the attic. However, in Wizarding terms, it had 6 floors. The attic was not the top floor as it should be. Instead, if you said a magic word and waited, another staircase would appear and lead you to a massive library that held more than a thousand books.

No guess is needed to figure out whom that room belonged to.

The floor on top of that was the Quidditch Room.

Again, easy to figure out.

The last was the Quiet Room.

It belonged to Harry. He called it the Quiet Room because it was the one place where sound could not penetrate through the room. Hermione helped him ward and construct it and therefore, she was the only other who knew how to get in.

It was a place where he was separate from the world, where nothing else mattered. The room was painted a soft color of white. The floors were carpeted and always felt nice and lush under Harry's feet. It was also another Room of Requirement for him. He would step into the room and think the word 'quiet' and the shades would fall on the windows. The lights would dim and a small comfortable chair would be conjured. He could spend hours in his room in his own separate peace.

In a sense, each of the occupants had their own two floors.

Living with his best friends was a blessing to Harry. He wouldn't change the way his life was right now, but there were some moments, some indiscriminate times where he would think about his former life.

The former Harry was how he referred to himself in the teenage years or during the times where life just basically sucked. Voldemort was out to get him, and he was the Chosen One. Blah blah.

Even though everything bad had occurred five years ago, the memory of the events leading to the Final Battle still stayed fresh in his mind. Nightmares continued to torment him during his sleep. He remembered the Horcrux hunt and how he used to believe that everything was impossible.

What he remembered the most were the things that happened between him, Ron, and Hermione. Sometimes he'd think about them at night. How did they maintain a strong friendship since 1^st year, in yet fall apart during the most crucial times? How did Ron just leave…both Harry and Hermione…They needed him then, but he just left.

The two of them never really talked about it. It was sort of a "forgive and forget" thing. Harry forgave Ron, but he could never forget it. No, you never forget about those sorts of things.

And then Hermione. He'd constantly wonder about his friendship with her. She seemed to be the constant person in his life. Whatever he got involved with, she would follow him. She was always there, but sometimes…he felt like he was never there for her. It was one of those things he would think about and forget about the next second. It was a feeling…a detached sort of feeling that came and went away.

Realizing he had slipped into one of his reveries, Harry shook his head.

"Hello?"

He heard a small sound of a laughter coming from upstairs. With a hand on the doorknob, he cocked his head to the side, trying to discern the unusual sound.

For the past few weeks, things had been tense between Ron and Hermione. They got into another argument, something usual that occurred in their relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend. Ron had said something without thinking (like always), and Hermione got hurt (like always). Harry didn't do much to help them console.

He helped them one time, believing that it would be the last. Unfortunately, things fell apart again, and Harry had learned to not get involved.

It was Hermione's laughter, Harry finally realized. He crept up the stairs, taking cautious steps. It was coming for her room…

Harry's face reddened. Maybe he shouldn't investigate. He knew that Ron was also home by this time.

The two of them must have made up….

Suddenly, the door opened, and Ron ran out. He stopped and bent over, breathing hard.

"My God, what a workout!"

Harry's eyes widened.

"Ron, you prat! Rearranging my room is not that hard!" Hermione yelled from her room.

Ron laughed, "You have a whole library of books in there; moving them was a vigorous task."

He dodged the book that she threw at him, chuckling. As he stood up, he noticed Harry standing there uncertainly.

"Oh, hey Harry," Ron said, smiling.

"Hey," Harry said back, almost smiling in relief when he realized that his best friends were not doing anything too disgusting.

"Harry's home?"

Hermione soon joined the two in the hallway. Her nearly tamed bushy hair was up in a messy ponytail and she was wearing a pair of old slacks and a light blue t-shirt. In her hands were more books.

"I thought you were going to take Gin out to dinner…she should be done with the conference," she said, unknowingly letting her books drop on Ron's left foot so that she could check her watch.

"Hermione!" Ron whined, grabbing his foot.

"I ran away," Harry replied simply, ignoring his male best friend for the moment. His other best friend arched an eyebrow.

"Ran away?"

"Daily Prophet caught sight of me and…that basically caused a domino effect. Eventually all of the reporters were chasing me, asking questions and all those sorts…" Harry trailed off. Hermione got the message.

"But you just left Ginny there?"

"Smooth, Harry," commented Ron.

Harry shrugged. "I'll talk to her later. I just need some time to myself."

"The Quiet Room again? What do you do up there? Watch porn?"

Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs. "That is disgusting, Ronald."

"I do nothing of the sort, you pervert," Harry said, shaking his head. He made his way down to the corridor to his bedroom, taking off his jacket.

"Well, Harry," said Hermione as she followed her friend, "how about the three of us go out? You've been isolating yourself for the past few days."

Her friend turned around and looked at her expectantly. "Well, I didn't want to go near you and---"

Hermione threw him an apologetic look. "Sorry, we didn't mean to get you in the middle."

Harry shrugged again and sat on his bed to take off his shoes. "At least it's over. You made up, right?"

His female best friend sighed. "We broke up."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Just…like that?"

"Yeah. It feels great."

Harry leaned back, scrutinizing Hermione. Being a pretty good reader in her feelings, he saw no remorse. In fact, she seemed relieved and happy. "Wow, I can't believe it."

"Believe it," she said, grinning. Hermione cleared her throat. "So anyways…let's go out today. I'm in a good mood."

Harry smiled wickedly, rubbing his hands together. "Great. Let's go to a strip club."

"Yeah!" Ron yelled in agreement from somewhere in the house.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Never mind. You are a pervert."

---

Leave a review if you feel like it.

Now I'm gonna watch Juno, the best movie ever.

Viopathartic

Learning to Be

Viopathartic

I'm trying to imagine this chapter in a movie scene. You know, like the pictures in your head? Never mind, I'm crazy so don't listen to me. I'm working on writing in detail so this is a test drive. My other fics usually have dialogue so I'm attempting (key word) to change it a bit. It actually turned out to be longer than I expected…

Enjoy.

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Chapter 2:

Dudley sat on the high bar stool in his kitchen with his head bowed down. He wished they had some rum in stock, but Ally had apparently given their last bottle to their friends when they attended a party. Instead, he settled with a mug of steaming, hot coffee.

His mind was still trying to wrap itself around the idea that Mary, his innocent and beautiful daughter, was a…witch.

A witch! What a word to describe little Mary. She was four and already in love with puppies. She loved butterflies, the color pink, and was in love with Barbies. So how is it that she can be a witch?

The next problem that left Dudley with an unsettling feeling was how to break it to Ally.

Ally knew nothing about his cousin. Nothing about his world. In fact, she had only met Dudley's parents and none of his other family. His Aunt Marge refused to speak to him ever again when he declined her choice of wife. The lady she picked for him was four years his senior and seemed to be an Aunt Marge in making. The woman had five dogs already! Dudley didn't really care that he no longer spoke to Aunt Marge; the only reason he "liked" her was because she spoiled him with gifts when he was younger.

That was another part of his childhood that Dudley disliked. If only his mother was less coddling and actually gave him independence, he wouldn't have had to experience the bad things on his own.

"Mary fell asleep pretty quickly," a soft voice announced from behind Dudley.

He twisted in his stool and faced Ally, his wife.

She was a beauty; it was a wonder how someone as angelic as her could fall in with Dudley Dursley, childhood bully of Privet Drive. Her hair, which Mary inherited, was a lush brown and was cut short to her shoulders. It used to be long, and Dudley remembered how he used to run a hand through it when the two of them were studying or sitting next to each other. But one day, Ally announced that she was "tired of wrestling" with her hair in the morning and returned with nearly three inches off.

Like her husband, Ally used to be an athlete—a star track runner, in fact. He and she would exercise together sometimes; of course, their time was limited because of Mary. Her figure was flawless to Dudley. No one would be able to tell that she had been pregnant for 9 months. Her height was neither tall nor short as many women in the world, but her shape and size were just right.

She just came home from work and had already changed into her home clothes—a pair of sweats and a pink long-sleeve shirt.

Dudley heard her sigh. "Dudley, what happened? She was bawling when she came home."

Of course, he knew Ally would ask. She was always so protective of Mary. "Ah…well, these boys came and told her to get off the swings. She didn't want to and—"

Ally was instantly alert and demanded, "Did they hurt her?"

Dudley nervously scratched the back of his head. "Uh…no. I guess you can say that she…hurt them."

An expression of confusion was seen on his wife's face. "Mary? Our Mary?" Ally smiled slightly, despite the situation. She never supported violence and completely forbade it from occurring in the house, but learning that her little four-year-old was strong enough to go against boys brought some pride. "Really?"

Her husband slowly nodded, but he didn't say much. In fact, he seemed extremely upset and jumpy.

"Darling, what is it?"

"Did you ever think that Mary was…different?"

Ally's forehead wrinkled. She leaned her hip against the counter and slowly bent over so that her elbows were on the top. Now she was right across from her husband. Dudley was tentatively drawing doodles with his hand and was not looking straight at her.

"What do you mean by the word 'different'? I mean, sure she's pretty smart for her age—"

"I know that, love, but—" Dudley sighed, frustrated.

"Dudley?" Why was her husband so troubled?

He had his head bowed in his hands. Ally approached her husband and wrapped her arms around his midsection. She rested her chin on his left shoulder—something that she knew comforted him. "Darling," she whispered.

"Promise me," he muttered, his voice low and uneven, "you will listen first. You can act whatever way you want later on, but I ask you to just listen."

"Dudley," Ally murmured softly, removing her arms so that she can sit on a stool beside him. Once she got seated, she placed both hands on his. This moment seemed crucial for him; she had never seen him so worried about her reaction.

"Just promise," he said in a strangled voice.

Instead of answering, Ally leaned forward and planted a soothing kiss on his cheek.

Dudley let out a deep breath and ran both hands through his hair. He gulped one time and then, as if he finally decided, he cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

"When I was little and living with Mum and Dad, someone else lived with us. I've never told you about him, but I've lived with him practically for my whole life. He was my cousin," began Dudley. "We never really got along because I made his life miserable. I was a stupid, spoiled brat—"

"No, you—"

Dudley looked at his wife. "You met me when I was 'grown' but never when I was growing up."

Ally smiled slightly and her husband returned the gesture. She whispered encouragingly, "Go on."

"Anyways, I was mean prat. I made his life miserable, both at home and at school. I made everyone turn against him because…God, I don't think I even remember why," he paused. Then he added, "Well…actually, it started with my parents. They hated him from the day they took him in."

"Took?" His wife asked curiously.

"His parents died in a car---I mean…we'll talk about that later on. Basically, my mum was the only living relative of my cousin's mom. His name is Harry, see. My parents didn't like them because my mum didn't like her sister."

"How can you not—"

"Ally," Dudley said firmly.

His wife smiled apologetically and shrugged. "You know me. Sorry, no more interruptions."

"Thank you, darling. Okay, my parents—and don't think less of them in any way—oh never mind, you hate them already—my parents made Harry do all the chores in the house once he was old enough. They always gave him my clothes when I outgrew them—I was a bit chubby back then—and they would end up being 5 times bigger than his size. My mum refused to buy him any clothes and the only thing she had ever bought him was glasses. Circular spectacles that made him look like an owl, frankly…and my parents also," Dudley hesitated, "put him a cupboard."

"Wait! So they basically abused him?" Ally exclaimed, forgetting her promise to not say anything else. Dudley mentally shook his head; he should have known. Now he might as well explain in more detail. He took on a somber expression and answered truthfully, "Yes."

"They should've just put him in a doghouse!"

Dudley winced. Dad did say that once. But he didn't say it out loud to Ally.

"Your parents? But what about you?"

Dudley shrugged. "I was alright. Harry got the worse of it."

"Poor Harry," Ally breathed, looking greatly downcast. Her husband squeezed her hand that was in his and smiled.

"It only lasted until he was eleven. He was a small boy for eleven years. Never complained. Extremely quiet. But on his birthday, he was saved."

"Finally! Social Services actually have brains," muttered Ally. Without realizing it, she was forgetting how Dudley's story related to their daughter. Her husband never really talked about his past and never mentioned Harry. Ally understood why; he must have been ashamed. She scowled. She never liked his parents. The only reason why they visited the Dursleys was to let Mary see her grandparents.

Then again, they never asked if Mary enjoyed seeing Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.

"No. Social Services didn't take him away. A school did."

Ally, not expecting that answer, asked, "Why?"

"Harry was special."

"Needed?"

"No," and Dudley couldn't help but chuckle. "He was far from special needed. He was 'special' because he was able to do think that other people couldn't."

He sneaked a look at his wife and saw that she was staring at him intently. He knew that Ally was never a patient one and decided that it was time to tell her the whole truth.

"Harry was a wizard. That was why he was special and that was why he went to the school," Dudley explained in a rush. He tensed and gripped his mug of coffee tighter, awaiting Ally's reaction. What was she going to say? After a minute, he wondered if she had even heard him.

"Ally?" he asked tentatively, daring not to look at her.

Again, he waited for about five seconds. Then Dudley heard her voice which sounded unsure and—he realized with a tight heart—a bit doubtful.

"Dudley—"

"I'm not going crazy, if that's what you think. No, he was a wizard. Not one of those fairy tale types, but this was real. He had a wand. He had books that taught witchcraft. He even had an owl!"

"Weren't they supposed to have black cats?" Ally asked without thinking.

He answered in the same manner. "Yeah, I thought of that too, but I guessed it was different for wizard."

Silence came as expected, awkward and tense. Dudley always thought the kitchen was the loudest room in the whole house. Odd, people would usually say their living room or their kid's room. It was different for the family of three. Ally was an executive chef at their neighborhood's finest restaurant, and she always brought work home. Her cooking was absolutely phenomenal but still healthy. Dudley used to joke that her cooking was mainly why he married her. Around dinnertime, it would seem as if all of the appliances turned on. Ally would use the stove, while using the microwave, or she might use the blender and the meat skinner. The kitchen came alive when Ally cooked.

Now, however, the room was silent without the noises of the appliances.

"So…" Ally hesitantly began, "you're cousin was a wizard, and he went to school for…wizards."

"Yeah…" Dudley couldn't say anything else so he took a sip of his coffee that had cooled during their conversation.

His wife opened her mouth, intending on saying something. Then she closed it, rethinking her next words.

"Why did you tell me this?"

"Because Mary's one too. A witch, suppose."

Wow. That wasn't that hard.

"What?" Her question came out in a shocked whisper.

"She did magic. When I said that she hurt the boys at the park, I didn't mean physically with her own hands. She…well, she froze the boy."

"What…you mean, zap?" Ally inquired, making a motion with her hands.

"No, she didn't seem to know what she was doing. It just happened," Dudley shrugged, no knowing what else to say.

This was what he was afraid of.

Dudley lived with his parents and saw how they treated Harry. When he was little, he constantly wondered "why?" Why didn't they buy him tons of toys like they did for him? Why didn't they give him chocolate cake for dessert? Why didn't he have his own room for playthings? When he learned that his cousin was magical, he knew that his parents hated Harry for being different. He was weird; he was a freak. They never loved or accepted him like parents should do with a child.

Dudley was afraid; god, he was terrified that Ally would turn into his parents. He didn't want her to hate Mary because of what she was. She was still a child., still their precious child. But he knew that this—magic and witches and wizards—might change it all.

Now he regretted his decision. Ally would surely never want to associate with him or Mary again.

"Did you…know that Mary was…a witch?" Ally quietly asked. Dudley tried to distinguish the expressions on his wife's face, but she kept it solid, blank so that no one could read her.

"No," he answered quickly, "she did magic for the first time today. I never knew that she could even be a witch. But I suppose that magic runs differently than genetic material…"

"Oh."

That one word caused tears to prickle at the corners of Dudley's eyes. That simple expression conveyed his wife's shock, discomfort, and—Dudley was sure—disgust.

He couldn't take it. Whatever she was going to say next, he didn't want it to be something that would make him hate her.

So, he said to her the one thing that his mother should have said to his father upon the discovery that Harry was a wizard. One sentence that could have freed Harry from Vernon Dursley's abuse, from a life without love.

"If you don’t' want this, if—if you don't want your daughter to be some sort of witch…leave then. Please," he managed to say in an even voice. Dudley refused to glance at his wife, for it would break his barrier. It would break him.

"What are you saying?"

Dudley gasped at the sharp tone. He felt his wife drawing herself closer to him.

"How—how can you say that?" Ally asked incredulously. It sounded as if she was going to cry. "How can I abandon Mary, my daughter, my baby? How can I abandon you?"

"I—"

"What you just told me is…unbelievable…I'm shocked, to say at the least, but I would never—" Ally couldn't seem to speak anymore. First, she found out that her four-year-old was a witch and next, before she could even recover, her husband told her that it was okay, that it was understandable if she left. Her mind was running wild as if it was trying to keep up with the events.

"Y-You're not going to leave? You…believe me?" Dudley asked her cautiously.

"Hell no for the first question and I don't know for the second. I mean…magic? It exists? Why haven't we ever heard about it? Don't we live on the same planet as the, um, magical people?"

All Dudley could do was stare at his beautiful….magnificent wife. His best friend, his love, and his soul mate…

…she was going to stay! Even after he told her the truth, Ally remained in the kitchen and was actually asking him questions. Dudley felt his chest tightening and a wave of euphoria, of love swept through his body.

"Dudley!"

He shook his head, tears of happiness just a second from falling. "Sorry, what?"

"The magical people…where do they—"

"Oh! Well, I don't know," Dudley answered truthfully. "I never asked about Harry's world, bur I'm pretty sure it's on earth. Maybe a different place but…I know that they have a government."

"Really? So there's a lot?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's called the Ministry of Magic, but Harry used to hate it for some reason…."

"Wow," murmured Ally, summarizing everything in just one word. "What are you—I mean, what are we going do about Mary? Obviously we'll have to tell her and I'm sure she's going to be ecstatic, but we don't know anything about magic!"

Dudley nodded, now focusing on his next move. "I know what we have to do."

"What?"

"Visit Harry."

---

Despite Ron's complaints, the Trio did not have an outing at the strip club. Instead, they decided to go to relatively casual restaurant in the heart of London.

As Harry tied his shoes in his room, he couldn't help but marvel at the sudden change of dynamics in his, Ron, and Hermione's relationship. His friends just broke up, in yet the mood had never been more relaxing for Harry. Ron and Hermione exchanged a few funny words and laughed it off as if they were just friends and not former snog mates.

Harry couldn't pin point his feelings on this. For one, he was relieved that the tension was gone for the moment. But he was also confused. A breakup should not be this easy—especially one occurring between Hermione and Ron. Harry actually expected a violent yelling match, but instead, he came home to laughter and books.

It was odd, but he supposed he would just have to talk to each of them separately to get the real deal.

"Ready?" A soft voice asked from behind.

Harry turned around to see his female best friend. She wore her hair half up and half down in a half-horse or whatever it was called…

She switched her slacks for a sophisticated dress in light blue (her favorite color, he noted) which was sleeveless with cross-back spaghetti straps. In the past years, Harry noticed that Hermione was becoming more aware of makeup and such, but she still did not overload. Her cheeks had a bit of blush which made her look flustered in a cute way.

"You look nice," Harry commented truthfully.

Hermione smiled widely. "Thank you." She faced the door-length mirror that hung on the back of Harry's door and examined herself. "My mum actually bought this for me. Still new even though it's from two years ago…"

"Hermione," Harry began slowly, though he knew that the time wasn't right. She turned around and spotted an expression on her friend's face that only she could recognize. She then reached out to squeeze his hand.

"I'll explain later," Hermione said, smiling softly.

Harry nodded and sighed. The two friends released hands, each content with their short exchange of words.

Harry glanced once in the mirror and tried to flatten his hair, but of course, it did not work. Hermione laughed and playfully messed it up even more. Her friend smacked away her hands and grumbled.

Ron met the two in the corridor. The men of 52 Forest Wood Road were actually quite well dressed. Ron had on a casual three button navy blazer that was expertly (and magically) tailored with a newly refined lapel and a soft shoulder. To finish the outfit, he also wore khaki pants and a red tie that was neither sophisticated nor childish. It was purely Ron.

Along with his signature glasses came Harry's signature uncontrollable hair. His outfit was simple, yet it would probably make girls drool after him. He wore a classic faded jean with a comfortable, light white sweater. All of his clothes fit now ever since Hermione and Ginny bought him a life's supply of outfits. Harry wasn't that picky, but he really liked the outfits, like the one he was wearing, which Hermione chose.

"So…what's the restaurant called?"

"Sophistiqué," supplied Hermione as they walked around their house and to the backyard. They were heading for the apparition point.

"Sophisticated? Sounds…sophisticated," Ron eloquently said. Harry snickered.

"The name is completely the opposite of what the place really is. It's a restaurant but at a certain hour it turns into a nice club."

"Club? Hermione Granger is bringing us to a club? Is she trying to spoil our innocence?" Ron asked, pretending to be shocked.

" 'Fraid that was done years ago, Ron," said Harry.

"It's a nice one. It is a club but it's not as crowded and barbarous," Hermione answered exasperatedly.

Sophistiqué was obviously popular; Hermione had to make reservations. When they arrived in London, the Trio walked past the waiting line, spoke to the hostess, and immediately got in. Harry could feel the waiting people glaring at them.

The interior walls were painted a royal red with golden linings. The floor was carpeted with the color of a spotless white. There were no messes on the floor, surprisingly. The tables were mahogany and seated up to five in each. More would require two tables to be pushed together. The center of the room was the main dining area, while the back, as Hermione out, was the "club".

It was a small confined place, but there was still enough room for dancing. A music stand was in place with microphones and all sorts of electronics to surround it. Harry had a feeling that there would be some karaoke. He just hoped they weren't horrible. Ron happily noted the bar where people were already sitting around.

The three of them were seated rather quickly. The waitress attending to Harry, Hermione, and Ron went by the name Cassidy and smiled widely at them. She seemed to be genuine. They ordered their drinks (soda pop, lemonade with a decent amount of sugar, and a light beer—but surely was going to get heavier by the end of the evening).

The three friends passed the time by chatting about their work life. Harry's training was brutal but was not as bad as the beginning. Ron, who was a Quidditch strategist, raved (quietly since there were muggles around) about the newest member to one of the top Quidditch teams. It was obvious that he loved his job. Harry and Hermione were not that surprised when he announced his occupation. It combined his love of Quidditch and ability to strategize moves (he was rather good at chess). He even got to attend the Chudley Cannons practices. Hermione shrugged and said that her classes at Oxford were pleasant.

They ordered their foods and were served in a few minutes. Their entrees were delicious, they said, and eventually, they finished after about an hour (the three talked in between about mindless topics).

It was dessert time when the stage in the back was suddenly occupied by the DJ. He announced, loudly and enthusiastically, "Anyone who wants to sing can take the stage. Club will be open in five minutes." The guests applauded and the pleasant atmosphere of Sophistiqué suddenly changed to one of seductiveness and excitement. Music from the stereo began to play. It was a pop song; Harry was sure of it. However, with his lack of interest in music, the name of the artist slipped from his mind.

Harry noticed that the room was getting more crowded. Some of the tables were moved to the side so that the dancing room expanded. The lights dimmed and were replaced by more colorful shades. The noise level increased and more laughter and giggles (product of alcohol consumption) rang in the air.

Hermione excused herself to go to the bathroom and left Ron and Harry alone at their table.

When Ron burped and forgot to apologize, he turned to Harry and said, "Be right back."

Instantly, Harry was left alone at the table, wondering where 2/3 of the Trio had disappeared to. He didn't get to ponder too much because Ron returned a minute or so later. He was grinning wickedly when he sat down, and Harry was suddenly reminded of his twin brothers Fred and George.

"What did you do?" He asked somberly, looking around the room.

Ron laughed and took a long gulp of his light beer. Harry punched him by the shoulders.

"Alright, I told the guy that Herms is going to sing," announced Ron who turned to Harry and expected him to laugh. However, Harry knew what their female friend thought of singing and made a face.

"She's not going to like that—"

"C'mon, she's having fun. A bit of karaoke won't hurt," Ron said, waving a hand at Harry while taking another swig of his beer. "Muggle beer is actually pretty good…"

A few minutes later, Hermione came back with a grumpy look on her face. She approached the Trio's table and pulled her chair back to sit down, mumbling, "Those sodding, horny bastards…"

"What happened?" Harry asked, amused that she would mutter such horrid things.

"Some guys wouldn't let me get through to the bathroom so I had to cause a bit of harm."

"Should we call the ambulance? I remember when you sent those bloody birds at me," Ron said, causing his ex-girlfriend to glare at him. He merely smiled, knowing that Hermione didn't care about what he said to her anymore.

"Magic and abuse do not solve everything," she spoke, "but manipulation of the situation does. Apparently their girlfriends were in the bathrooms. When they came out, I slapped the two guys and faked a scene. That in turn caused the guys to earn four more slaps—and claws too—from their girlfriends."

Bringing her beverage to her lips, Hermione shrugged. "Problem solved."

Both of the men laughed, marveling at how manipulating their once innocent friend had become

"Well, since you're in a good mood," Ron said, even though she was not, "I have more news."

Harry really didn't want to see this.

Their female friend raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What?"

"Guess what?"

"Chicken's arse. Ronald, we already went over this."

"Well, you're going to be singing in thirty minutes, on stage, in front of everyone," he finally revealed, smiling ridiculously.

Harry watched closely as Hermione's whole back stiffened. She moved nothing, save for her eyes which were glaring daggers at his best mate. Suddenly, the background music changed from a nice, slow song to one with tearing guitars, fast beating drums, and the sound of looming death.

Ironic.

She finally took a calm sip of her pink lemonade and set it down with maddening composure. Then she leaned back in her chair and noted innocently, "Ron, do remember that I occupy a room right next to yours—"

"—I already knew that, Herms—" Ron inserted, amused. Harry knew that Ron was just digging himself a deeper hole.

"—and can enter your room at night—"

"—Muggle locks are pretty awesome—"

"—and that I happen to be a witch—"

"—replace the 'w' with a 'b' and you'll find out what you really are—"

"—and therefore, I'm quite talented at unlocking charms and hexes that could cause you to bleed or subject you to a night filled with pain," finished Hermione, who then smiled sweetly.

Harry was pleased (though he felt guilty later) to see Ron pale considerably.

"Um…I'll just tell him…you're not going to—" he trailed off and slowly backed away from his ex. After seeing his friend scurrying away, Harry burst out laughing. Hermione lifted her chin defiantly, as if she was daring someone else to have a go at her.

"Was Ron always scared of you?"

"Of course; ever since 6^th year, I believe. He would always flinch when I draw my wand around him…"

Harry chuckled.

Hermione strummed her nails—or the tips of her fingers, since her nails were too short and uncared for—on the top of their table and took another sip of her lemonade. Harry watched her closely as she discreetly nodded her head to the music that was playing and knew that even when his friend was "letting go", she did it in a respectful and modest way. With Ron, however…give him a beer and it's done.

A waitress, a petite blonde girl wearing an apron, came by their table and swept up their—Ron's, basically—trash. She shot the two a small, shy smile then left.

"Just ask me, Harry."

Harry jerked his head; he didn't know she was watching him. Then again, he was as open as a book and Hermione knew how to read him.

She smiled encouragingly. "I know you want to know about what happened between Ron and I."

"Fine. I—" then he stopped because he realized that he didn't have just one question.

"How about we start with why Ron and I broke up."

Harry grinned sheepishly and nodded. Though he had an idea of the answer, he still wanted to hear Hermione explain.

"Well, our relationship has been sour for a very long time. It was sort of like our time in school, except there were a few snogs and intimacy and such," Hermione said, disregarding Harry's amused expression. "But our arguments got worse since we had more things to argue about. If Ron ran late for a date, I would bark on him. If I was late because of work, he would get annoyed and grumble throughout the whole thing."

Hermione sighed. "By the time we'd get home, we'd have nothing but hateful words to say to each other. I couldn’t take it. So…I sat him down today and just…let it all out. Turned out that Ron felt the same, and we decided that we'd break up, but still remain friends."

Her explanation was so simple, yet Harry still couldn't grasp the whole "friends to lovers to friends" process.

"It's just odd. I expect breakups to be…hateful and tense and—"

"But how do you know that? You only dated Cho besides Ginny," Hermione asked.

Harry glared at her. That was not the point. At all. "Yeah, well, I just think it's weird. It's like your relationship with Ron would have been better if you did not date him."

"Actually…I don't really regret dating him. It surely riled the media up—"

Harry did remember the articles that started to appear everywhere when Ron and Hermione got together. They'd always talk about the same thing: A love triangle gone wrong; Hermione breaking Harry's heart (again); and even Ron breaking Harry's heart. Merlin, what the tabloids came up with back in day.

"And I got to experience what I wanted since third year."

"You wanted to date Ron…since third year?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "A childish fantasy, I know, but yes. I had a crush on him, but I waited. Once he got together with Lavender," she made a face, "all hell broke lose. I was so mad and angry that Ron would just disregard me!"

"He didn't," Harry quickly interjected. Hermione gave him a shocked look while he mockingly said, "Oh, honestly, Hermione! He picked a fight with you in fourth year because he was jealous that you took Victor Krum to the Yule Ball. He blushed, yes, blushed like a schoolgirl when you kissed him on the cheek in fifth year. He was in a daze for minutes before I had to snap him out of it. And sixth year...the only reason he was dating Lavender was to make you jealous!"

He couldn't believe that Hermione was so surprised to hear him say all those things. The smartest witch he had ever known was completely lacking in romantical—romanticalic—or whatever (he didn't know the term), relationship.

"You think so?" she asked quietly.

"Listen, my performance in the romantic category has not been good, but I know that Ron was crazy for you when the three of us were younger.

Hermione smiled again and shrugged noncommittally. "Well, I don't think that matters anymore. Never in my time with Ron had I thought I'd spend my whole life with him."

"Never?"

"Never. I had a feeling that it'd be one of those 'experience it and then move on" things. But I'm okay now, Harry. I know that you were worried, but I'm perfectly fine." She smiled widely and then gulped down her whole lemonade and slammed it down to the table. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Are you—"

"Positive."

"Hermione."

"Harry," she countered. She laughed when he narrowed his eyes at her. "Come on, Harry. Why are you so…insistent with this subject?"

Harry shrugged, but he had a feeling. This was the time where he expected her to be angry, to be depressed, and to be in a state where only he would be able to get her out of. It was strange, but he thought of this moment to be an opportunity for him to help her instead of the other way around. But now that he knew she was fine, he started to wonder, again, about how he had ever helped her.

He knew that if he let this moment go again, he might not be able to help her, to be there for her. And when she would really need him, he'd forget about her. Like she wasn't his friend. Like she wasn't important.

Harry shook off that feeling again.

"Sorry…it's just…" he trailed off, suddenly feeling embarrassed about his behavior.

"It's just…" Hermione pressed, eyes telling him to just say whatever he was thinking. Seeing that he was struggling internally, she reached out and laid a soft hand on top of his.

"Have I ever been a good friend to you?" he blurted without much thought.

His friend blinked, eyes a bit wide and mouth slightly open. Then she closed it and withdrew her hand. Harry suddenly wanted to reach out for it because he felt so…stupid for asking his question. Hermione lowered a head and bit her lip, pondering the question. She finally looked up and straight at him, eyes soft.

"Why," she began quietly, "would you ask that?"

"I-I don't know. It's like I feel—I feel like a horrible friend. I always think about how I kind of dragged you into my mess in the past—even though you never seemed to want to follow. I put your life in danger but never asked or gave you a choice. We never talk anymore like we used to. We never--And I always think…that I never helped you. I don't do anything for you!" he rambled, his voice unintentionally growing louder after each word. Once Harry finished, he lowered his arm; apparently, he had been waving his arms around during his rant. He let out a breath and leaned in his chair and stared at his hands in his lap.

"Harry." Her voice sounded like a soft melody to his ears. It was asking for him. Harry finally glanced back up and saw, astonished, that in the dimmed room there were tears in her eyes.

"I don't think you know…how much you have given me. You were my first friend, the first person to save my life," she said as her lips began to tremble. Harry opened his mouth to say that that was probably the only thing he had done for her, but Hermione stopped him. "Do you know what life was like before I met you?"

"I used to go home after school and go to my room while kids my age would go to afterschool clubs, friends' houses, and parks. I would read while other kids would laugh with their friends and have fun! Books were my only friends," she whispered tearfully. "My mum used to cry when I would run to her upset and tell her about kids bullying me. My father used to get so angry towards those kids and threaten to hurt them, but I would beg him to stop and to do nothing because nothing would get better. I was always small, something unimportant around kids. I used to be scared and pitiful and…" By now, she was crying freely while wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Harry wanted nothing more than to tell her to stop, to make her feel better again, someway, somehow.

Hermione choked back her tears and wiped the remainder of her tears. "When you say that you have never helped me…you're wrong. I would have never made friends. I would have never learned about anything other than books, books, and books. I would have been sodding recluse!"

"So sure, you may think that you have done nothing, but I could go on with a list about how much you have done for me, Harry," she finished fiercely.

Harry reached across the table and grabbed her hand, squeezing it gratefully. Her words had caused some sort of emotion in him, but he couldn't decipher it; all he knew was that what he feared was not true. He knew that their relationship would be strong no matter what. That he would be there for her from now one. And he knew that Hermione would do the same.

She smiled through her tears and let out a laugh that sounded familiar to his ears. Ron came back and settled cautiously into his chair. His two friends still held hands and their eyes spoke secret messages to each other. Ron mumbled an apology to Hermione before taking a sip of his beer.

And he was fully astounded when Hermione hugged him tightly. He gave Harry an amusingly perplexed look while Harry merely shrugged and chuckled.

All of a sudden, he found himself engulfed in Hermione's warm embrace and in one small moment that he would cherish forever, he heard her whisper, "I love you."

Harry smiled into her hair and hugged her tighter.

---

That was supposed to be a sentimental moment. Yeah, I tried.

Anyways, I'm gonna recommend a few things.

H/HR fic: Survivor by atruwriter

I read it again this weekend and wow, I was blown away. So good.

Music: For the rockers, I am in love with the soundtrack to The Phantom of the Opera. American Idol had some songs with the soundtrack. David Cook rocks. David Archuleta…I will marry that guy. Also, Boyce Avenue is a new band. Their acoustic versions of recent songs are extremely good and originals are amazing

Books: I finished Stiff by Mary Roach. Funny as hell even though the book is about dead people. Definitely for the science geeks like me.

The Choice by Nicholas Sparks. Very romantic. I did not realize Sparks was young until I searched him. If I can find a guy who writes like him…

Psychological studies, blah blah: Snakes in Suits: When Psychopaths go to Work by Paul Babiak, Ph.D & Robert D. Hare, Ph.D

So interesting. It's not boring at all, peoples! Very useful for people who will go into business

Cracking the AP U.S. History Exam: 2008 exam: I am not freaking kidding. For those of you enrolled in this class and going to take the exam on May 9, at least you'll know that you're studying at the same time as Viopathartic. Haha.

That's pretty much all. I didn't even talk about my story…but there's nothing much to say!

Thanks for reading,

Viopathartic

Learning to Be

Viopathartic

A/N: Hey all!

This chapter will be more of an "in-between" chapter. About 7 pages, so I hope it's long enough for you.

I just want to take a moment to talk about Hopeless, my other fic. I've been getting flames, but I'm not upset about them…more like angry. The flamers have the nerve to verbally abuse me when I haven't even begun the story. I've only written 2 chapters! I know my story is different because of the H/R content in there. But there are others who have H/R in their fanfiction. The flamers complain about "the dirty red shithead's baby" in my story, but they fail to remember that there are others with Ron and Hermione's children. Coriander, for example, wrote a piece about the Weasley children. Harry's Mistress has written Love Lost. Love Found.

Flamers, have sense before flaming my stories. Just because I don't answer you guys back doesn't mean that I believe you're right. You're just not worthy of being answered.

For those who are enjoying both Hopeless and Learning to Be, I'm extremely pleased and hope that you keep reading my works.

---

Harry rolled over on his bed after waking up from what seemed like a week of rest. He sighed deeply; his bed had never felt so good. In his state of peace, he spread his arms out and expected to work out a few kinks in his body. But when his left hand hit something solid, Harry's mind froze.

Solid and warm...that could only mean one thing.

His eyes shot open.

He stayed there for a minute or two on his back.

Do not panic.

Instead, his mind worked up a whirl. Last night, he, Hermione, and Ron went out to a restaurant/club. They ate and drank there and then...

Did I drink too much?

"Oh Merlin," he whispered, eyes glued onto the ceiling. He had heard of situations like this--something called the 'morning after'. It usually involved massive hangovers and bed mistakes.

The sight that greeted him was most unexpected. Next to Harry, in his bed, was Ron.

Harry swiftly removed his hand from Ron's face and quickly leapt out of bed.

The redhead grown man was wearing last night's clothes (as was Harry) and was snoring (nothing new) as he lay on his stomach. Harry was disgusted to see his friend drooling a bit.

And he was suddenly afraid again. What had they done last night?

They had gone home from the club, he remembered. Then they...

Harry ran a hand through his hair and nervously ruffled it. No matter what he did, he still could not remember. Perhaps they had a few drinks after arriving home. And...

"Hey."

He turned and saw Hermione standing at the doorway. She apparently just finished showering because her hair was still wet and she had on a pair of sweats and a baby blue tank top. She held two cups of steaming coffee in her hands.

Shite. What will Hermione think?

Hermione must have seen his horror stricken face because she entered the room, put the mugs done onto the nightstand and asked what was wrong.

Harry, almost embarrassed by what she was walking into, pointed to his friend--male friend--on his bed.

"Ron?"

"So...?"

He gestured wordlessly to Ron who was still knocked out.

"What--"

Harry gestured again.

Hermione's eyes widened and she would have laughed if she wasn't covering her mouth. "You woke up and thought that you and Ron...and--" She couldn't finish because her laughing disenabled her to speak.

"How would that be possible anyways?"

Harry raised an eyebrow in way that said 'Oh, innocent Hermione. There is a way'. Hermione flushed.

She mumbled, "Honestly, the three of us just fell asleep on your bed."

Her friend reacted to this. "Three...of us?"

"And nothing happened!" Hermione sharply exclaimed, shaking a finger at him.

When he took the time to actually think (something he had not done first because he was just too disturbed), Harry realized that Hermione was right. After they got tired of dancing at the club, the Trio headed back to their house. They spent the remainder of their time in Harry's room, reminiscing and laughing.

"Oh!"

Hermione huffed and stood up from the bed. "'Oh' is right. Do you think I would actually let you go anywhere else when you're drunk? Oh no, you're not going to make another mistake as long as I'm around."

"Another?" Harry said incredulously, "ANOTHER? What do you mean by that?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Nevermind. Now wake Ron up. I'm cooking some breakfast."

"Sausages?" he asked hopefully.

His friend's face relaxed and a soft smile formed. She stopped at the doorway and leaned her body against the frame. "Only for you."

Harry grinned happily and watched as she turned and walked down the stairs. Not only was Hermione good at Potions, but she happened to make breakfasts that were worthy of comparisons to Molly Weasley's cooking. Harry suspected that was partly why Ron took an interest in her...

Speaking of which...

Harry turned on his spot, eyes falling on Ron's prone form. He eyed his wand which was on the nightstand and instantly smirked.

What a morning Ronald Weasley will have.

---

"Dudley!" Petunia Dursley shrieked after opening the door to find her young son and his wife on her doorstep. Behind them was their daughter. "And little Mary!"

Dudley felt Ally flinching from his mum's voice but smiled and accepted Petunia's hug.

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley," greeted Ally politely. Petunia pursed her lip and nodded stiffly. The two were never close acquaintances.

She turned to her son again and smiled. "And where is my Mary?"

Mary gripped the back of her mother's knees a bit tighter. Dudley had to pull his daughter away. "She's still shy," he lied.

Mary was never shy.

Petunia quickly brought the little girl into her arms, looking as if she was squeezing the life out of her. "Oh, I've missed you, Mary." It was stunning how much strength the bony woman had.

"You...too, Grammy," said Mary's muffled voice.

After Petunia urged the three into her home (and they stepped in and immediately suffocated from the strong disinfectant smell that lingered in the corridors), they sat down in the living room. The hostess patted a spot next to her on the couch, meaning for Mary to take the seat. Instead, the little girl pretended to not see and squished herself between her parents.

"Just…decided to drop in," Dudley answered absentmindedly. "Where's Dad?"

Petunia waved a hand. "Out with some of his co-workers. It's a shame that he won't be able to see you—that is, unless you would like to stay for dinner...?"

She let the question hang and looked expectedly at her son. However, Mary tugged at her father's sleeve in a discreet manner.

"Uh...no, we have a friend's house to attend."

"Oh." His mother sounded devastated. "Then why are you three here?"

"Do you know how I can talk to Harry?" His straightforward request not only startled his mum but also Dudley. He didn't expect to get it out that quickly.

Petunia dropped her tea cup onto the living room floor, but she paid no attention to the spill, an uncharacteristic thing to do if you were Petunia Dursley.

"Why would you want to talk to him?"

"I've been thinking about him lately and was wondering if he was okay. I haven't seem him since he left for the War--"

Petunia shot a furtive look towards Ally.

"She knows, mum," Dudley said. "Anyways, I also want to talk about Mary with him."

"Mary? What does she--"

The bony woman stopped midsentence and focused wide eyes on the four year old girl as if she was seeing her for the very first time.

"Is she--"

"Yeah," Dudley answered quickly. His daughter was a witch; he was sure of it. But he didn't have the heart to tell her yet. He wasn't the one who should do it.

"How do you know?"

"Well, Harry was about the same age when he--wasn't he?"

Mary glanced at her father, but he ignored her for the moment.

"And you're not...scared, Dudley?"

"No," both Dudley and Ally answered succinctly. Petunia looked at the two as if they were crazy.

"But Dudders, you used to afraid of--"

"I'm NOT anymore," he interrupted sharply. "Mary's my daughter. Even though she's like Harry, I love her. But I never really hated Harry. You did. Both you and Dad."

"Now, Dudley--"

"No, Mum. As I've said, I've been thinking. About my childhood and how you and Dad always gave me what I wanted. Were you afraid that I would hate you or something if you did not?"

Petunia opened her mouth to speak but Dudley cut through. "I don't know. Maybe you did. But I can't tell you how much it hurt me. I now understand what that Professor had said before taking Harry.

His mum's eyes expanded a bit; she remembered too.

"Why didn't you like Harry? Why didn't you love him like me?"

"I-I didn't know that you felt like this, Dudley," Petunia answered shakily. "I don't expect you to understand but…I guess… I didn't love him like you because he was my sister's son."

"So you didn't love your sister either?" Ally asked, horrified by the mere thought. Her husband was just about to ask the same. Instead of scowling at her, Petunia bit her tongue and explained.

"I used to love my sister. Lily was my best friend when we were younger. We did almost everything together. Except for our appearances, we could have been twins. I admired her for her spirit, intelligence and kindness and always wanted to stay with her. Then she received her letter from Hogwarts. Naturally, I thought that I would follow her. But the letter never came for me," Petunia said. "I was heartbroken. I even went so far as to write to the Headmaster, pleading him to let me go to Hogwarts. They didn't let me be with Lily."

"Our relationship was strained after that. I learned about calculus, biology, and literature; Lily learned about goblins, potions, and spells. I learned to hate both her and Hogwarts. Eventually, that spread to every witch and wizard that existed. We only saw each other during the holidays and summers. It was as if...we weren't sisters anymore," she finished softly.

"I think I understand why you and your sister never got along, but Harry..."

Petunia held a hand up to Ally. "Let me finish."

Instead of being offended, the younger woman nodded and let her in-law speak.

"We went our separate ways when we graduated our respective schools. I only visited my parents when Lily was not visiting them and vice versa. Of course, Lily, being the forgiving one, sent me invitations to her wedding and later on, she informed me that she gave birth to a son. Harry. I was foolish, I know that now. I ignored her effort to rekindle. By then, I met your father and had you."

"There came a time when I started to...miss Lily. She was my sister but I never talked to her. Why would anyone want a relationship like that? So, I prepared myself to visit," the older woman said. She then took a deep breath, as if letting out the sorrow that came with the story. "Then, I found out that Lily and her husband, James, had died. And Harry survived. He was put on the very doorstep that you were on today."

"He was the only one to survive. Dumbledore told me that Lily and James were two of the most talented witch and wizards. In yet, Harry, a baby, had defeated the darkest sorcerer in wizarding world. I couldn't understand that. I just couldn't. I think I blamed him...for surviving that attack that took away my sister. Why hadn't Lily survived? My thoughts were not logical, I realize now." Petunia laughed bitterly, wiping a lone tear that crawled down her cheeks.

Dudley and Ally watched, fascinated by the story and how much it brought out of Mrs. Dursley. Mary didn't understand a lot of words but was smart enough to know that this was not a fun occasion. Even so, she still daydreamed and was absent from half of the conversation.

"When I told Vernon, your father, he reminded me of what I had become. He hated anything odd and Harry...well, he was an odd one. I don't blame your father for my actions, but I have say that he had played a part as well. I used to feel that your father might disapprove if I didn't treat Harry less than I treated you. You always needed to be first."

Petunia played with her napkin, twisting it until it became shredded. She bit her lip before pleadingly saying, "I know that I wasn't right in my ways, but I couldn't love him like I loved you…now, I wish I could have taken better care of him…"

"I don't want to be like Dad. I want to be with Mary every step of the way," said Dudley. He looked downwards at Mary who was humming quietly under her breath.

Ally reached over Mary and squeezed his hand. Her husband smiled in return, grateful for her support. Petunia watched the scene with eyes that were surprised and even a bit envious. Perhaps she wished that her husband had been just as supportive and accepting as Ally.

Dudley cleared his throat before continuing, "You know more about Harry's world than you let on. So, please..."

There was a fraction of hesitation, but Petunia nodded.

---

"I can't believe you thought that!" Ron bellowed as he cast his best mate an incredulous look.

Ron had woken up before Harry could do any harm. The three were currently downstairs in the kitchen and Hermione had just finished telling their third friend of their other friend's mistaken revelation in the early morning.

Harry held up his hands as if surrendering. He cast Hermione a glare to which she countered by sticking out her tongue. "I was in a state of panic, mate." As his answer could defend him....

"That I--and you--and Merlin, that's just sick!"

"Alright. Enough, boys," Hermione joined the two and sat across from Ron at the breakfast table. Her seat was next to Harry. She set down her cup of coffee (her second, Harry believed) and neatly placed her napkin on her lap.

The three of them soon settled and silence came naturally as they ate. Ron would occasionally talk ("Pass me the salt, Hermione…no, that one over there) while Hermione would click at him for his bad manners. Harry would sit there and roll his eyes. It was a regular routine for them.

It was only until Hermione spoke that the topic focus switched to something other than breakfast. "Tam 's at the window, Harry." Harry received Tamera as a gift after the war. She looked eerily like Hedwig, who died in the beginning of seventh year, and even bonded with him like Hedwig had.

"Howler, I bet," whispered Ron with his mouth near the rim of his mug. He had also found out about his little sister and Harry's panicked escape. Hermione nudged him sharply with her foot, nearly making him spill his drink. Ron scowled.

"I wouldn't say you're wrong," his other friend mumbled as he reluctantly stood from his seat.

Harry gently took the white envelope from Tam ("Hoot!" and he sighed—red would have meant it was a howler) and eagerly opened it.

"Hey, it's from Remus."

"Hmm," said Hermione, "I wonder why he's owling." She waited as her friend anxiously unrolled the parchment. Ron stopped eating and watched as Harry's eyes moved from left to right, drinking each and every word that was written.

"That's odd," Harry mumbled before throwing the parchment onto the counter. Ron reached for it.

"What?" Hermione asked since she couldn't read the letter.

"Remus is coming by the house at two. He wants us to meet someone."

Learning to Be

A/N: Hello again! Chapter 4 is officially here! Wow, I haven't updated this in a while. I had a bit of a writer's block…but that's over. I admit that updating will be slow because I have a lot of other stories to update and need to deal with life. Hopefully you guys understand my dilemma.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed Sleeping; I love all of you! I'm so glad you guys liked it. And I also hope you will enjoy this chapter too

: )

---

Chapter 4

"Two!" Hermione exclaimed, panic quickly surfacing in her voice. She yanked the parchment out of Harry's hands and with quick, searching eyes, she frantically scanned the contents. Then she gasped and slammed the paper down onto the nearest table. "Then I have to cook something! Merlin, we don't have anything in this house!"

"What do you mean, Hermione? We just want shopping a few days ago," said Ron. Both of his best friends turned to glare at him. "Oh."

Hermione sighed fractiously. "Yes, Ron, we did go shopping but because we ate the last of our foods in the morning and because of the never ending well that you call your stomach—"

"—and your midnight snacks—

"—and your morning snacks—"

"—we have nothing," finished Hermione and Harry in unison.

Ron could only blink twice before shaking his head. He never understood how they did that. "Don't do that again."

Hermione glared at him. "Whatever. Now, I'm going to have to go to the grocery store and buy more food." She gestured to the kitchen and house in general. "And I'll have to clean everything!"

"We'll do it," Harry quickly volunteered. He didn't want Hermione to get too stressed. She didn't need it; living with him and Ron was enough of a stress.

Hermione's eyes softened once they rested on Harry. "You will?" Her friend nodded and she quickly broke out into a smile. "You're wonderful!"

"It's no big deal," Harry replied, coyly scratching the back of his neck. He was remembering last night's discussion. Hermione was quick to defend that Harry had helped her in some ways, but he was still not convinced. Besides, cleaning the house was not so hard. He did it all the time when he lived at the Dursleys'.

"Great," Ron grumbled, crossing his arms. That earned him Hermione's famous eye roll, but he was well immune to it and countered with his own.

"Okay," Harry interrupted, grabbing his redheaded friend's arm, only to have it yanked away, "you should go. I don't know how long it'll take to shop and cook. If you have any problems, just call me on the mobile."

Hermione quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek and smiled widely. "Of course. So, I'll get steak for Remus because he likes it a lot and—"

"—some appetizers and…oh! They, whoever 'they' may be, might stay for dinner too, so you'll probably have to buy for dinner too-"

"—oh, that's right. Good thinking, Harry." Hermione grabbed her keys and purse off from the kitchen table and scanned the room. "I think I have everything…alright, boys, I'm off."

The men of the house muttered quick goodbyes before watching their friend leave the room. They heard the loud sound of a door slamming, and once realizing they were alone, they both let out long sighs.

"Why, Harry, did you have to volunteer for cleaning?" Ron groaned, plopping down to a seat.

"Because I'm the noble hero who only cares about making a pretty girl smile," he replied with a straight face.

"And who's the pretty girl?"

Harry shot his friend a peevish glare. Was that how he felt about Hermione?

"I'm only kidding, Harry so you can stop with the death glares."

Once the two of them settled down with their obvious procrastination, they set to work.

They worked in silence for the better half of an hour. Truthfully, Ron and Harry didn't have a massive amount to clean; they just needed to straighten out a few things. Hermione was the one who forced them to limit their messes because she said that she was not to be a maid to two males. Ron had, of course, said something to set Hermione off after this, and the two had gone without talking for a good week. That had happened a few months ago.

Harry and Ron started cleaning in the living room. There were only a few scattered books on top of the coffee table (Hermione's) and some of Harry's required Auror outfits were draped on the couches. Overall, there wasn't much damage in need of repair.

"So…" Harry began, for the sake of conversation, "you guys just broke up like that?" he asked, busily pointing his wand to levitate a pile of clothes into the laundry basket. Actually, he didn't mean to ask that, but it was already on his mind. He glanced over at Ron who was fluffing the pillows on the sofa.

"Yeah…just like that," his friend answered briskly.

"Really?" Harry stopped trying to pretend that his question was casual and turned to face his friend.

"Yep."

"Why'd you break up?"

Ron shrugged nonchalantly, not seeming to mind the questions. "The arguments. The days of silence. We weren't as happy together as we were when we first started dating. So, we ended it. It's only natural, right? In fact, the days after our breakup have been my happiest."

"Oh…so you're not mad, angry, or regretful…or anything like that?" Harry asked.

"No." Ron laughed.

"How did Hermione act? Was she sad?" It was possible for her to hide her feelings, Harry thought. He knew she could do it.

"No, Harry. Why are you worried about this?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Hermione's fragile, I suppose."

Ron turned on him. "Hermione? Fragile! Harry, this is the girl who bloody punched Malfoy in third year!"

Harry countered exasperatedly, "Ron, she's also the girl who bawled in the girl's loo when a certain git called her some names. Twice." He was slightly satisfied when seeing his friend flinch. "Don't get me wrong. My Hermione is the strongest woman I know. But she has a more vulnerable side to her. You may not see her as someone who gets hurt easily but that's because she puts up a wall whenever the two of you fight. But I know, Ron, that every time you call her a name, a part of her feels like she's not worthy. But she is, Ron. Hermione's worthy of everything. She's smart, beautiful, and a great friend…and when you treat her as if she's not—"

"Alright, alright!" Ron finally said, interrupting Harry's lecture. He stared astonishingly at his friend who stared back at him just as surprised. "I didn't know you felt that way…"

Harry flushed; he didn't realize how much he had said. He turned away quickly, pretending to fix the table spread of the dining table. They had moved on to different rooms during their talk and were in the dining room that was also connected to the kitchen.

"Well, I've had a lot of thoughts in my life, but never got a chance to voice them."

"You can tell me now," Ron suggested, not sounding mean or anything. "We can multitask." He gestured to the chairs and sat down in one. With a flick of his wand and a muttered spell, the kitchen appliances flickered to life and scattered around, washing and rearranging themselves.

"Alright, now spit it out."

"Remember…when you left us?"

Harry didn't need to elaborate with his question because Ron remembered quite well.

"Yeah…yeah, I do. Of course."

"Hermione cried. Nonstop. You hurt her a lot. And I didn't like it one bit." Harry suddenly saw Hermione's vulnerable form as she was curled into a ball, sobbing quietly like she had wanted to hide from him. He heard her soft whimpers in his mind and realized just how much he hated hearing it…and also recognizing her cries as the one he sometimes dreamt about. The days after Ron's departure were still stuck in his memory. The two of them were cold and miserable, feeling rejected and abandoned by the person they had trusted the most.

"Harry, I—"

"I know that you were stressed, but we were too," said Harry loudly. "And I know that we weren't in the best positions during that time, but damnit, you left us out there as if you didn't care. You stormed out of our lives, not seeming to care about how much hurt you caused with your decision." Harry threw his hand down onto the table, shocking Ron with his show of emotion. Truthfully, he was speaking to Ron, but looking above his head. "Hermione cried as if she lost a part of her body. I felt…as if I had lost a brother." He didn’t realize it, but his hands were curled into fists.

Ron sat across him, head down and thoroughly ashamed.

"Why did you leave, Ron? I need to find an honest answer," Harry pleaded, wanting to finally confront his friend and move on.

"I was jealous."

Harry didn't need to say anything to that; it was a well known but unspoken fact that Ron was always jealous of him. Jealousy had always been one of his defining characteristics. Harry supposed that it was because Ron came from a family of five boys and one girl with parents who tried to provide for each one of them. Ron never got the attention he really deserved and he may have believed that Harry always got it.

"I was jealous…of you and Hermione."

"Me?" Harry pointed to himself with a finger and Ron nodded. "And Hermione? What…do you mean—?"

"Yeah, in that way."

"Have you always felt that way?"

"Yes."

"And back then, you thought that me and Hermione were—"

"Yes."

"You're an idiot."

"Ye—oy!" Ron looked affronted.

Harry didn't care one bit. "Well, you walked away from us because you thought me and Hermione were having an 'affair' or whatever behind you back? That is a stupid reason! Besides, we wouldn't have had time to do anything since the three of us were always together."

"So you had the intent to be with Hermione—"

"Ron," Harry warned him. Ron held up his hands as if he was surrendering.

"Sorry…habit."

Ron sighed.

"Look, I've always been jealous of you. First because of your fame then your money then your attention from girls…"

"But you had girls look at you too," Harry interjected, hoping to steer Ron away from delving into the past again.

"Yeah, but only after they finished looking at you. I bet Lavender was one of them."

Ron stopped himself before he was able to spout out nonsense. He glanced awkwardly down at his hands. His friend was staring out into space, his lecture momentarily forgotten.

"Back then, I saw how you and Hermione were. Like your own little team. You never made her cry, she always seemed to worry about you, and you guys have this…thing!" Ron stopped. "I didn't it like it because I had always fancied Hermione and…and…

He shook his head. "But now I know I was being foolish."

"You must have had a lot to say, Harry. I never knew you were still thinking about the past, you know."

"I can't escape it, Ron. No matter how hard I try, I still remember our days in the cold, you walking out, Hermione being tortured…I guess…I guess the past still lives in me," Harry replied quietly.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. I can't really say anything more to that because I'm just…really—"

"No. I had forgiven you a long time ago. It's a 'forgive and forget' thing."

"I don't think you can, Harry—you know, forget. Can you?"

"No," he finally answered, standing up from his seat. He stretched for a second then looked down at Ron who was watching him. "No, I can't. But it doesn't mean that you're not my best mate. It doesn’t mean that I hate you. You're still Ron, my first friend."

Harry held out his hand as a sign of truce. Though he still felt as if his past was not done with him, he knew that he had settled things with Ron, and the latter seemed like he was truly sincere in his apologies. Ron wouldn't dare lie.

"Wait…"

He glanced up at Ron who was looking at his hand oddly. "What?"

"You said 'my' Hermione back there."

Huh, Harry thought, the git paid attention?

"No, I didn't," he lied, looking at Ron as he was crazy, but once he backtracked, he realized that he did say something along those lines. "You must have heard me wrong."

Ron smirked and suddenly looked like Fred or George Weasley.

"Right."

"Look, give me your bloody hand, or else I'll smack you," Harry lightly threatened. He surprised when Ron didn't take his hand, but instead, grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a…erm…manly hug. Harry was shocked at first; Ron wasn't usually a person to express his feelings through gestures.

"Maybe something did happen while I was asleep."

Ron and Harry sprang apart from each other as the other had leprosy.

Hermione was standing at the kitchen doorway with two brown bags of grocery in her arms. A few other bags magically floated behind her. The expression on her face could only be described as highly amused.

"That's not funny," Harry mumbled, grudgingly making his way over to her to help with the bags.

Hermione's melodious laugh reached his ears. "I'm only jesting, Harry."

"Alright, my Harry, I guess I'll leave you two to cook like slaves," Ron teased, stressing the "my" and smiling at him.

As the two watched their friend leave, Hermione said, "See, now that is why I doubt his sexual orientation and not yours. What was that about?"

Harry observed her for a moment while she was busy removing her stuff from the brown bags. There was a soft smile on her face as she hummed with her work. He could also see that she was counting the number of cans that she took out.

"Nothing. Ron's on a high, I suppose."

Harry quickly grabbed the cans of beans and moved across the kitchen to stack down in its cabinet. It was rather comforting for him to walk in his own space and know where he was supposed to put the stuff. He was just glad to help Hermione.

Hermione slid her hands together once she was done and then excitedly announced, "Alright, now take everything back out."

"What? Are you barking?"

"Harry, I need the stuff to cook."

"Then why didn’t you just tell me to—"

"Harry," Hermione said warningly with her hands on her hip. "If you're too lazy to do it the Muggle way, then use magic."

Sending her a playful glare, Harry withdrew his wand and retrieved the items Hermione requested. He set it gently down in front of her; she smiled in return.

"Excellent. Now…I think…we're going to make some appetizers. Harry, bring out the cutting board and grab a few of those knives…"

After getting the kitchen equipment he needed, he settled at the center island with his produce. The two of them had agreed that they would set out a platter of vegetables and dip for an appetizer. They also had some bell peppers carrots, celeries, and broccolis set aside.

Hermione was sorting through the pots and pans that they kept in a separate cabinet. She was officially in charge of boiling a good amount of pasta. The dish they were going for was pasta with basil, tomato, and cheese--the main meal.

Hermione wound up the timer, set a pot of water onto the gas stove, and turned it on, leaning back slightly to avoid any flames. She had neatly set her ingredients aside and prepared them for use. The tomatoes were washed, the basil was fresh, and the cheese was grated.

That gave Hermione time to sit back and relax.

"So you talked to him, didn't you?" she asked, standing on the tips of her toes to watch Harry at work.

"I have no clue about what you are talking about, Ms. Granger," Harry quickly replied. He began to chop the bell peppers into thin sticks by rote—all the while trying not to hurt himself. Cutting closely always made him a bit nervous.

"You're like a book, Harry. And you know me; I'm a bibliophile."

Harry laughed. "I know." He set down his knife and turned so that he could lean against the center island. Chopping the produces suddenly became his second priority. Hermione faced him, resting both hands on either side of him. She was up close to him and would have been face to face to him if she were only a head taller. Harry could smell the light aroma of vanilla coming from her, and strangely, he felt content. "Yeah, I did talk to him."

"Harry, you didn't have to," Hermione said softly, shaking her head. Her curly hair brushed against his chin, and Harry was oddly tempted to laugh. It tickled.

Not realizing what he was doing, Harry brushed Hermione's hair aside and wrapped his arms around her waist. The two were now comfortably supporting each other.

He sighed.

"Actually, Hermione, it wasn't really for you. More like for me. I just had to find out, had to know that everything was finally settled and that you and Ron would be okay."

"They are. I can guarantee you that, Harry," said Hermione gently as she rested her head under Harry's chin. Her own arms reached behind his back and her hands were involuntarily stroking his spine. Harry suddenly moved, chuckling a bit.

"Tickles," he explained once seeing Hermione's humored expression.

"Well-noted," Hermione said, moving away from him. She turned her attention to the boiling water and carefully added some pasta, following up with two small pinches of salt. "So who do you think Remus is bringing?"

"I dunno…I'm betting they're wizards because I don't think Remus knows any muggles, right?"

Hermione shrugged. "We don't really know who Remus tags along with these days. But I guess they can be muggles too…after all, they're coming to meet us here."

"Is he going to bring Teddy? I haven't seen Teddy in such a long time."

"Oh yes, two days is just too long for you, Harry."

"What? I can't help it; the kid's too bloody cute to resist," said Harry as he was removing a platter from the cabinet. He had finished with all his cutting. "Plus, he needs some extra loving. With Tonks gone…"

They were both silent for moment. Tonks had died protecting Remus. They were both fighting Bellatrix Lestrange and Dolohov, respectively, but when Tonks saw a green beam burst from Dolohov's curse, she abandoned her duel, dashed across the battle field, and jumped in front of her husband. It was instinct for her to protect the person she loved the most. As a result, not one but two curses had hit her. The second curse was useless; she was already dead.

Remus had spent nearly three months after the war with his son being his only company. He was in mourning for the longest time; he truly loved Tonks. She was accepting, she was brilliant, and she was his lover and best friend. She was Teddy's mother. After enough time, though, Remus resurfaced in the world and for the first time in a long time, he appeared happy. The reason was Teddy.

"Teddy will be a spoiled wizard with you as his godfather," said Hermione with humor in her voice.

"I can’t deny that," Harry said back, sending his friend a large smile.

The doorbell rang at that moment, and he quickly dropped his knife and apron.

"He's here!"

Hermione shook her head and pointed Harry away. "Go ahead, I'll finish with this; it's not much. You greet our guests, and then I'll fetch Ron and meet you."

"Great!" and Harry sprinted to the front of the room, yelling, "Coming!"

With a bit more force then necessary, he opened the front door.

"Hi," said a timid voice. Harry glanced down and saw that a little girl had rung the doorbell. He crouched down to her level.

"Hey there."

The girl, who had short brown hair and a cute flowery dress, took a small step back. "Hi." She nervously tucked a strand of her hair behind a tiny ear. There was no one following her so Harry reckoned she was lost.

"Umm...are you lost? Have you come to the right place?"

"Yes, sir. Dad said to come here."

"Oh. So where is your dad?" Did Harry know anyone who had a daughter? He didn't think so…

"Harry."

He probably spent a good minute scrutinizing the man who said his name. His voice was faintly familiar and Harry tried to remember where he had last heard the voice. The man didn't look recognizable. He was a bit tall and healthily skinny with some of muscle. His hair, though, was blond and Harry wanted to think of Malfoy, but of course, the man was definitely not Malfoy.

So who…?

"Hey, Big D!"

"Dudley!"

WAIT!

"D-Dudley?" Harry gasped, faintly wondering if his guess was even accurate. No, it couldn't be. Dudley was fat; this man was fit. Dudley would have pounded him; this man was standing awkwardly in front of him.

The girl Harry was talking to before ran to the man and quickly hid behind his legs. She was so small that she was actually hidden.

"Mary," Harry heard "Dudley" whisper as he tried to coax the girl out from hiding. Once seeing that his daughter refused to budge, the man sheepishly glanced at Harry.

"Sorry…um, yeah, it's me. Dudley Dursley."

Harry wondered if it was possible to die from shock. Because that was how he was feeling. His heart had stopped, all thought had ceased to run, and his eyes would not move away from the man who was apparently his former childhood bully and hateful cousin.

"Are you joking?" he finally managed to sputter…it was the only line he could think of.

"Um…no," came his cousin's nervous reply. "Uh…well, this is my daughter, Mary." Dudley had unattached himself from the girl behind his knees and pushed her up front. "Mary, say 'hi' to…Harry."

"Hello," the girl shyly said for the third time.

"Hello," Harry said in a daze. His eyes rested on the girl for a moment, but then focused back on Dudley. "Dudley…Merlin, you—you changed!"

Dudley awkwardly chuckled, digging his heel in the ground while his hands were kept in his trouser pockets. "Yeah…worked out and stuff…went to the university…married…"

"Married!" Harry yelped…yes, yelped. Never in his life had he ever imagined his gangbanging, spoiled cousin getting married to a…civilized woman!

"And with kids," Dudley interjected as a joke, but he stopped laughing when he saw his cousin looking like he was going to die. "Er…Harry?"

Harry shook his head, trying to get back to normal. Okay, so Dudley found him. Why? How? He was about to ask, but then he saw a pretty woman walking towards them.

And with the pretty woman was Remus.

"Ah, so you two have reunited," Harry's former professor said as he led the woman with a hand on her back.

"Remus, I expected you, but I didn't think you would bring Dudley and his…family!"

Remus chuckled and for a moment, he looked apologetic. "Sorry to surprise you like that, Harry. I just couldn't help it. Now are you done being shocked?

Harry, despite feeling a whirlwind of emotions, laughed and gestured towards his house. "Yes…now come on in, Remus…and you too, Dudley."

He glanced at his cousin and the shock came back when he saw him standing with his wife and daughter. They looked like a family…Harry quickly turned away because he would have continued to stare at them if not. He was uncomfortable enough.

He was in a daze as he stepped back into his house. Harry faintly felt himself sit down in the living room on one of the sofas. Everyone else sat across him; Mary sat between her parents.

"Remus!"

Hermione came in with her apron on and immediately hugged her former professor. Remus chuckled and patted her back.

The two separated, and Hermione went to sit down besides Harry. She noticed the three people sitting across her and immediately reached out a hand. "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger."

Dudley smiled apprehensively and did the same with his own hand. "Hello, I'm Dudley Dursley and this is my wife, Ally, and daughter Mary."

Harry watched Hermione as her smile was completely wiped from her face. She withdrew her hand before Dudley could even touch it, as if touching him would be poisonous. Hermione was one of the few who knew how Dudley and his old family had treated Harry.

"Dudley," Hermione curtly said as her way of greeting him. Dudley frowned, but he guessed why she was treating him so callously.

"Hermione," Harry gently said, grabbing her left hand. She turned and spoke to him with her eyes.

Why is he here?

Harry gestured to his cousin. He'll explain.

His friend raised an eyebrow. Better be a good explanation.

Harry smiled and squeezed Hermione's hand again.

Remus watched the exchange with a small smile while Dudley and his family waited awkwardly.

"So…uh, Dudley, what brings you here?"

Dudley grinned uneasily and answered, "Well, it's about Mary here."

Once seeing Harry glance at her, she grabbed her father's arm and tried, unsuccessfully, to hide again. Ally whispered something to her and encouragingly squeezed her daughter.

Harry, feeling a little sorry for her, tried his best to give an easy smile. "How old are you, Mary?"

The little girl hesitantly held up four little fingers.

"Four? Wow, you look very young for your age."

"That only works for older women, Harry," Hermione pointed out teasingly. Her friend rolled his eyes and feeling like it was needed, Harry stuck out his tongue.

Mary let out a small giggle.

"I'm glad you thought that was funny. Now, can you tell me why your father brought you here?"

"Daddy said I was a witch," the little girl whispered, her voice sounding quiet.

Harry and Hermione gave each other shocked glances and then looked over at Remus. The latter nodded slightly, confirming the fact as true.

"A witch? Wow, I didn’t think you could even…" Harry trailed off. He was about to say how he never thought a person with Vernon's blood could ever have a magical child.

"Yeah, me too," Dudley said, oddly knowing what his cousin was thinking, "and me and Ally aren't even wizards…"

"Well," began Hermione matter-of-factly, "the parents don't have to be magical in order to have a magical child. For example, my parents are muggles—dentists, in fact—but I'm a witch. I'm what you would call a Muggle-born."

"My mum was too. But since she married my dad, who was a Pureblood, I'm considered as a Half-blood."

"Okay, so Muggle-born, Pureblood, and Half-blood…do you have a pen I can borrow?" Ally asked. The others smiled at the woman's confusion.

"Yeah, it's a lot to take in," Hermione sympathetically said. "When did Mary show signs of magic?"

"Uh, well, the other day a few bullies were teasing her at the park. Mary got mad or irritated and she froze one of them…"

Hermione nodded. "Accidental magic was what she did. It's very common for underage wizards and witches. I accidentally hexed a bully of mine when I was little and Harry here…well, you know what he did."

Harry glanced sheepishly away.

"What?" Ally inquired anxiously. "What did he do?"

"He blew up his Aunt Marge," Remus answered, humored. Mary giggled again, imagining her most hated aunt as the size of a hot balloon.

"Yes! I always hated that woman," Ally said, earning a grin from Harry.

"Same here. But accidental magic shouldn't happen. You can get in trouble for doing magic if you're underage."

"Will Mary get in trouble then?" Ally asked worriedly.

"She's extremely underage so the Ministry will just pass it off," assured Remus.

Harry took the time to observe the Dursley family again. Mary was the miniature image of Ally; she had the same short brown hair, the same nose, and the same perceptive eyes. However, Harry could see that she inherited the eyes from Dudley. Watching Dudley in front of him, looking so different, so much older…it made Harry feel as if everything had changed. It felt so odd to connect this Dudley to the old Dudley he remembered. The last time they had seen each other was when Harry had to leave with his escorts. The two of them had parted with a handshake, but the gesture hadn't completely explained the change of relationship between Harry and Dudley.

He hoped that he would see get an explanation as to why Dudley had reached out for his help.

And why Harry felt as if he needed to help Dudley and Mary.