This is a belated story in dedication to Mr. Richard Griffiths, who sadly passed away three days ago. May he rest in peace.
This story didn't exactly go the way I wanted to, but I liked how it turned out. I think it's going to be a two-shot, maybe even a three-shot; either way, it's not finished yet.
If you haven't already, please go to my profile and check out Lily's Weekly Gifts (my next insane project), then please do so. You don't have to really do anything, and you get a special gift in return.
Anyway, onto the fic!
"Come on, Lils, it's time to wake up," Harry whispered, gently shaking the young girl.
The small redhead fluttered her eyelids open before squinting at the light streaming through the window from across the room. "Mornin', Daddy," she yawned.
Harry chuckled softly. "Good morning, Princess. Now come on, Mummy's making pancakes," he said softly, scooping his daughter up off of her bed and carrying her down the stairs.
"Lily! Lily Lily Lily Lily wake up!" James screamed, tugging on his sister's dangling leg. He yelped in pain as he received a kick square in the face from the girl.
"Hey! What was that for?" the eight-year-old demanded, rubbing his nose at it began to swell and turn red.
"Lily, don't kick your brother in the nose. If you're going to kick him, at least do it someplace that's not as obvious," Ginny called from the kitchen with a wink.
The small redhead giggled as her father set her down in her chair at the table, yawning in the process. "What you want, Jamie?"
James groaned. "How many times have I told you not to call me that?"
Lily giggled once more, smiling a half-smile with heavy eyelids. "You funny, Jamie."
"MOM! When will the pancakes be ready? I'm hungry, woman!" James shouted as he sat down across from his sister, forgetting whatever he was going to previously ask her.
"James, don't call me woman," Ginny scolded, walking to the kitchen table with two plates of pancakes in her hands. "Where's Al?"
Harry raised an eyebrow as a suspicious silence fell over the cozy kitchen. "James . . ." he said slowly, eyeing his eldest son. "Where is Albus?"
James took a deep breath. "Well, I may or may not have told Al that if he wanted to get his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, then he would have to look for a baby Hungarian Horntail underneath the house . . ."
"JAMES!" Ginny shouted, racing toward the back door. "He's only six years old!"
The brunette looked up at his father, offering a hopefully-innocent looking grin. Harry simply return a stern look.
Ginny returned a few moments later with Albus in her arms, his small body shaking from the cold. "I'm sorry, Mummy," he mumbled, adjusting his round spectacles.
"Don't be sorry, Al. James was just messing with you," the mother assured, setting her son down at the kitchen table and walking into the living room to retrieve a blanket.
"I'm a still going to make it into Hogwarts, right, Dad? I didn't find the dragon . . ." Albus asked looking up at his father.
Harry nodded. "You'll make it to Hogwarts, I promise. You already proved your magic when you made the gnomes at Grandma Molly's start speaking Irish."
"James, I swear, if you ever try to do anything like that to Al again I'll hex you into next Tuesday," Ginny glared, sitting down with her own plate of pancakes.
"Sorry," James mumbled, pushing a piece of pancake around on his plate with his fork.
The family breakfast continued in silence until a knock on the front door caused everyone to look up.
"I GOT IT!" James and Lily shouted simultaneously, both jumping up and running towards the door, pushing each other down in the hallway.
"Jamie, stop it!" Lily cried, pulling her brother's arm to try and bring him to her place on the floor. He simply responded with a shove to the nearest wall and continued on his journey, much to the pain of his sister.
"BOTH OF YOU SIT DOWN!" Harry bellowed, pointing down the hallway at the kitchen table. Both children slowly sulked back to their seats, the youngest of the two rubbing out a slowly growing bump on the side of her head.
Harry made his way to the front door and he couldn't help but drop his jaw in surprise when he opened it.
"I'm sorry for showing up quite . . . unexpectedly, but post doesn't come on Sundays," Dudley Dursely mumbled.
Harry blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. After all, Albus was searching for a Hungarian Horntail underneath the house. It wasn't exactly a normal day.
"Uh, yeah, of course, come on in, take a seat. We were just having breakfast if you would like to join us," he stammered, stepping inside to let his cousin in. "Gin, I hope you made extra pancakes because we have a visitor!"
Harry, Ginny, and Dudley sat in the living room of the cozy Godric's Hollow cottage, a piercing silence cutting through the thick air.
"So, Dudley . . . what brings you here?" Ginny asked politely, forcing a smile onto her face.
Swallowing another bite of pancakes, Dudley took a deep breath before speaking. "My father passed away on Friday; complications during a heart surgery."
Ginny gasped audibly, and James and Albus exchanged a look from the top of the stairs. A small hopeful part of Harry pitied the old man, but the rest of him couldn't help but expect worse news.
"I-I'm so sorry, Dudley," Harry replied awkwardly looking around the room. "How is your mother? Is she doing okay?"
Dudley shook his head. "She really cared about your mother, you know. After all, they were sisters. So for her to lose her sister, her parents, and now her husband . . . she hasn't been coping so well."
"I think I'll go whip up something for you to take up to her," Ginny said quietly, standing up and excusing herself to the kitchen.
Another silence fell over the pair of cousins. Harry couldn't help but feel this gnawing guilt for not being upset after hearing that his uncle died. But then again, Vernon Dursely had never been an exact father figure to Harry, either.
"Again, I'm really sorry about you father, Dudley," Harry repeated, trying to fill the quiet.
Dudley nodded. "It's okay. He never liked you anyway."
Harry had to bite his tongue to hold in a chuckle. "So, how are you?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
"Everything's okay. I'm married; got two kids and another on the way," he explained, motioning to the silver wedding band on his finger.
"Those three up there are mine," Harry said, motioning to the giggling children peeking their heads through the railing at the top of the stairs.
Dudley nodded, and once again the silence fell over the pair.
"I'm sorry about the way you had to grow up," Dudley said suddenly. "It wasn't fair; my mum and I talk about it a lot . . . we talk a lot about things that we wish we could've done differently."
Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it. The past is the past, and it makes us who we are today."
"My mum is especially sorry," Dudley continued, "she feels like one day she's going to die and see her sister again, and her sister – your mum – is going to hate her so much for not treating you the way that you should've been treated."
Harry was about to say something as Dudley took a breath, but was interrupted before he could get a single syllable in. "My dad went crazy after we went into hiding all those years ago. He and mum got into a fight and he ended up telling her to go back with the freaks," he admitted.
Harry wished Dudley would stop with the emotional confessions because he really had nothing to say in response, nor did he have any confessions of his own (that he was comfortable sharing with Dudley).
And yet, the cousin continued on. "My mum also told me everything. About the war, about what happened between her and her sister; after my dad had the crazy attack and left the hiding place, my mum would listen to this magical radio every night. I don't know how she got it to work, but she later admitted that she was listening to make sure your name wasn't called."
Harry couldn't tell if he was going to be sick or start crying. Or just sit with the blank stare on he was doing now. The only thing he could think to do was nod once more.
"Well, I should probably get going. I just wanted to stop by to invite you to the funeral on Tuesday; it will be held in the church right down the road from our childhood house," Dudley said, standing up and making his way to the front door.
"Oh, Dudley, wait! Don't forget your gift basket!" Ginny called, rushing forward to hand the man a wicker basket full of fruits, vegetables, breads, some flowers, and other things at the bottom that Harry didn't recognize.
"Thank you," Dudley said with a small smile and a nod.
Ginny returned the favor as she watched the two men walk to the front door and exchange an awkward handshake before Dudley left.
After the door was once again shut and locked, Harry turned around to face his wife. "Well, that was odd. So, do you want to go to a funeral?"