A/N: So this is just a tester to see how things go…if I get inspired to continue (whether on my own or by way of warm reception), I will do so. For now, it is what it is. I've left a certain someone off the character tags as not to spoil the twit here, but if I continue, he will be added. This piece has not been edited by a beta, and just sort of struck me, so I decide to give it a go.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling, of course.
November 1st, 1981
Petunia woke up that morning just as she had every other normal morning. It was an overcast morning and it already looked as if it was threatening to rain on Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain.
With a glance over at her sleeping lump of a husband, fully covered by the blankets, she rolled out of bed and slipped on her robe and slippers.
She made her way out of the master bedroom and down the hall. Her chubby baby, just on the brink of being a toddler and who probably shouldn't be so chubby anymore- was asleep in the crib in the nursery. She was glad the baby had slept through the night again; the more late night calls, the better.
She didn't linger in the nursery long for fear of accidentally waking her only child.
She showered, a quick, concise seven-minutes-on-the-dot shower, and then returned to the bedroom to dress for the day. Then back for another glance into the nursery, and then downstairs to start cooking.
Toast, then eggs, and just as she flipped the eggs from the frying pan onto a plate, the newspaper arrived. She paid for it, unfolded it, and then placed it in front of her husband's usual seat at the head of the kitchen table. He'd be down soon enough, she knew.
She had just started to wonder why the baby was sleeping so late when she realized she hadn't yet put out the milk bottles. She picked them up from next to the refrigerator and left the kitchen. She headed into the hallway; from there she could hear her husband moving about softy upstairs.
She opened the front door, and screamed.
Sitting there, wrapped in a buddle, was a baby boy. He, like her own baby upstairs, was snoozing. However, unlike her baby upstairs, this baby had a note tucked in his blanket. It was addressed to her and her husband at their address:
Mr and Mrs S Snape
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey