Harry sat with the Weasley's in the Gryffindor common room, discussing anything but the battle. They were three days out of the war, helping to restore the castle and assist families looking for lost loved ones. It was tiring work, but it was important. It distracted them all from the pain of losing so many. On this particular day they had all come back exhausted, but they made a point to stay together. After so much time apart, it seemed only fitting they keep each other's company. Harry sat near the top of a semi circle shape, with red heads to either side of him. Hermione was missing from the group while she sought out her parents. Ginny sat to his left, and while neither had attempted to broach the subject of their relationship, there seemed to be a contentedness between the pair. For the most part, the group did their best to maintain a happiness. In fact, they were all laughing at a story Bill was telling when the common room door opened behind them. Instinctually, Harry immediately turned, defensive. The woman standing there must have been the last person he had expected to see. Rail thin, she wore a flowered dress with a mauve over coat and short, black heels. Her arms were crossed in front of her while she clutched a small handbag and a thick folder tightly. She seemed immensely uncomfortable.

"Aunt Petunia? Wha- What are you doing here? How did you get here? Why are you here?" Harry sputtered, unable to conceal his surprise. Petunia's lips pursed further as she entered the room.

"That person, Duggle. Diggle, maybe. I asked him to bring me to you and he directed me here. I was hoping I might be able to speak with you," she said. Harry had known his aunt to be a stern, unfeeling woman. The woman he saw now though seemed almost kind, if uncomfortable.

"Yeah, yeah of course. Would you like to sit?" Harry reclaimed his seat, and Petunia joined the Weasleys. She kept her coat on and continued to clutch the binder and her bag. Bill, Charlie, and George all excused themselves, mumbling excuses about privacy. The rest of the Weasleys, well aware of the treatment Harry had received at the hand of his aunt and uncle, remained.

"So, what's this about then?" Harry asked. As a child Harry dreamed his aunt would wake up one day and realized she loved Harry, but it never happened.

"Well, first off I needed to give you these. This is information regarding the remainder of your inheritance. Most of it is from your father's parents, and that god father of yours. I was entrusted with what was left to you that couldn't immediately be given to you. I'm not exactly sure what all of this is, or what it means, but I assume you lot have a bank or something that can help. There's also a little something from my parents, it was your mothers, obviously. It's not much but it's yours. There's a small beach home, and a little money. It's not technically in your name for another few months, until you turn 18, but here's all the information for it." Petunia handed Harry the binder as she came to the end of her words, looking even more uncomfortable than before.

"Thanks. Well, is that everything? Because if so you could have mailed this."

"No. It's not. I never liked your father, I'm sure you knew that. I never liked how he was to my sister, although she swore he had changed. No one was good enough for her as far as I was concerned," Petunia looked down at her hands, emotion threatening to overcome her. "I loved my sister, you know. I may not have always showed it, but I missed her desperately when she came to this place. At the time I was jealous, but looking back, I just missed her. And when she married that man I knew I'd never see her again, and I didn't. They went into hiding shortly after. She did write to me though, occasionally," Petunia looked up, for the first time surveying the Weasley's. Her eyes landed on Ginny.

"Is this your girlfriend? Is this Ginny?" Petunia asked. Harry didn't say anything for a moment, unsure of how to answer. Was Ginny his girlfriend?

"How did you know her name?" He finally responded.

"We were allowed to go home finally. Vernon was throwing away your things and I happened upon a picture in your trunk of the two of you. Your names were on the back," she looked at Harry to answer, but then again fixated on Ginny. "So, you're his girlfriend?"

"Yes, I am," the answer wasn't immediate, but it was enough to make Harry's stomach do a back flip.

"You certainly made that easy on me," Harry whispered to her.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be making it up to me for the next ten years," she said with a smirk. Harry tried to look reproachful, but he found it difficult to hide the newfound happiness he felt. Harry's attention returned to Petunia.

"Why are you telling me all of this? You're never mentioned my parents before. Why now?"

"Well, there's something you need to know. I wasn't sure if I should tell you or not, but I think it's best that you know. The reason I didn't like your father was because he had had an affair. Your mother swore it was a one-time occurrence, and she promptly forgave him. But I couldn't. She sent me this letter, and I found this picture along with some things that had been salvaged from where they were living. I assume this is the child. It was in your father's study, buried under paperwork of some kind." She handed Harry an old letter, and a photograph. In the picture, a chubby baby waved her arms excitedly. She had a tuft of black hair and bright blue eyes like his father had. Written on the back were the words, Penelope Taylor. 6 months. 9/25/81. Not understanding, Harry simply looked at Petunia. "The letter will explain, it's from your mother," Harry's aunt said, as she stood to leave. "You can keep it if you'd like." She began to walk towards the door, leaving Harry stunned. She paused for a moment before turning back towards Harry. "You must hear all the time how you look like your father, but I see so much of your mother in you. You got her kindness and her temperament. She was really a beautiful person." Without waiting for an answer, Petunia left through the portrait hole while Harry watched one of the last members of his family leave.

Dear Petunia,

I'm having a hard time writing this, so I hope you'll keep your critical comments to yourself. I think James was with another woman last night. I'm not entirely certain, but I found the name Maggie Taylor on a slip of paper with an address, and he won't tell me anything. I'm devastated to think of it, but I just don't know what to do. I miss you, my dear sister. I'll write again soon.

Lots of love,

Lily