Harry pulled the last weeds out of his aunt's flower bed and wiped the
sweat off of his head. He stood up and walked towards the door to the
house. He and his aunt were the only ones left in the house; his uncle and
his cousin were out in the city to pick up some new big clothes.
"I'm all done Aunt Petunia," Harry said as he walked in to the kitchen, "is there anything else you want me to do?"
"Yes," She said attentively, "Come in here."
Harry followed her voice into the living room; she was currently wringing her hands as she paced the length of the living room.
"Sit.sit down Harry," she said unconsciously. Harry sat down dumbstruck; his aunt just called him by his first name. He was usually refereed to by 'boy'.
"I, I have a confession to make," She said as she sat on the couch by him. "I .. I. I never did." She stammered.
"What is it Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked. He never saw her like this; she would usually bite her tongue whenever she couldn't piece words together or think of anything to say.
"I never did hate your mother." She spit out. "I never did hate her." She repeated like she was getting a burden off of her chest.
"What?" Harry asked, taken slightly aback. "But I though."
"I know." She said sadly. "Everyone did. But I don't. She was one of my best friends."
"Really, but what about how she would come back and turn things into teacups?"
"She would do that to make me smile." Petunia said, "I hated the fact that she got to be a witch and I didn't. So she would teach me everything about the wizarding world, and show me a few spells she knew."
Harry looked at her; he never did see his aunt act like this. It was like she was trying to connect with him.
"I was so devastated when she died. I was so happy that Dumbledore left you with us; you were my reminder of her."
"Then;" Harry started a little baffled, "Then why wouldn't you talk about her or my dad? Or tell me how they died? Or anything about the other world?"
"Because," she said; eyes a little glazed with tears, "because, I knew that you would ask, and I wouldn't of been able to tell you. It would hurt too much. You would ask and I'd just think about everything that me and her used to do. And, I wouldn't have been able to tell that to a five or eleven year old. So, I thought that if you thought that I didn't like her, you wouldn't ask. But, I had to get this off my chest, I wanted you to know, I couldn't stand going another second of you thinking that I hated your mother."
Harry looked at her as she wiped the small tears from her eyes as the sound of Vernon's car pulled up. His aunt got up and walked towards the kitchen.
"Petunia, does Vernon know about this?" Harry asked out of curiosity.
"No, Harry," She said as she pursed her lips together, "No he doesn't." She walked into the kitchen as Harry sat on the couch and smiled to himself.
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A/N: Well, there we go. It was a little thing I wrote for fun. I probably could have gone a little bit more dramatic but I wanted to get it up. I think that it's good for a one time shot. Anyways, please review.
"I'm all done Aunt Petunia," Harry said as he walked in to the kitchen, "is there anything else you want me to do?"
"Yes," She said attentively, "Come in here."
Harry followed her voice into the living room; she was currently wringing her hands as she paced the length of the living room.
"Sit.sit down Harry," she said unconsciously. Harry sat down dumbstruck; his aunt just called him by his first name. He was usually refereed to by 'boy'.
"I, I have a confession to make," She said as she sat on the couch by him. "I .. I. I never did." She stammered.
"What is it Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked. He never saw her like this; she would usually bite her tongue whenever she couldn't piece words together or think of anything to say.
"I never did hate your mother." She spit out. "I never did hate her." She repeated like she was getting a burden off of her chest.
"What?" Harry asked, taken slightly aback. "But I though."
"I know." She said sadly. "Everyone did. But I don't. She was one of my best friends."
"Really, but what about how she would come back and turn things into teacups?"
"She would do that to make me smile." Petunia said, "I hated the fact that she got to be a witch and I didn't. So she would teach me everything about the wizarding world, and show me a few spells she knew."
Harry looked at her; he never did see his aunt act like this. It was like she was trying to connect with him.
"I was so devastated when she died. I was so happy that Dumbledore left you with us; you were my reminder of her."
"Then;" Harry started a little baffled, "Then why wouldn't you talk about her or my dad? Or tell me how they died? Or anything about the other world?"
"Because," she said; eyes a little glazed with tears, "because, I knew that you would ask, and I wouldn't of been able to tell you. It would hurt too much. You would ask and I'd just think about everything that me and her used to do. And, I wouldn't have been able to tell that to a five or eleven year old. So, I thought that if you thought that I didn't like her, you wouldn't ask. But, I had to get this off my chest, I wanted you to know, I couldn't stand going another second of you thinking that I hated your mother."
Harry looked at her as she wiped the small tears from her eyes as the sound of Vernon's car pulled up. His aunt got up and walked towards the kitchen.
"Petunia, does Vernon know about this?" Harry asked out of curiosity.
"No, Harry," She said as she pursed her lips together, "No he doesn't." She walked into the kitchen as Harry sat on the couch and smiled to himself.
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A/N: Well, there we go. It was a little thing I wrote for fun. I probably could have gone a little bit more dramatic but I wanted to get it up. I think that it's good for a one time shot. Anyways, please review.