A.N.: Hello! So this is my second attempt at fan fiction. This story is loosely inspired in a prompt I read in Reddit a while ago and wrote for but forgot about it until today.

Right now I have little time to write, so it will be updated sporadically and at random.

With everything said, I hope you enjoy it ^.^

Petunia Dursley could only nod dumbly at the news the police officer was delivering.

"Do you understand, ma'am? You have to come with us to recognize the body." The gruff police officer demanded, not an ounce of sympathy on his tone, only memorized lines he might have delivered dozens of times already

"I have two children at home," was her robotic answer, not even gracing the rude man with a glance. "I will be there first hour of the day. Good night."

The man didn't even bother to respond, only grunted and left. Good. She needed to think what to do now.

With precision that came from practice, she put water in the kettle for some tea. She stayed there, paralyzed, unable to process the situation. The whistling of the kettle forced her back to her body and she calmly made herself a cup of strong black tea. Heavens knew she needed it.

As she drank the warm liquid, numbness gave place to anger. Irrational ire that made her want to stab someone with a butter knife. No, not someone. She wanted to stab Vernon! How dare he leave her all alone with two children to take care of?! She told him he shouldn't go to the office party to show off his new car, especially because she knew alcohol was the weakness of every Dursley. But had he listened? Of course not!

Nothing will happen, he said. I will be home early, he promised. That bloody wanker! If he wasn't dead, she would kill him herself!

"Calm down, Petunia. There is no time to waste," she whispered to herself, taking deep breaths in order to ease her anger.

There was no time to waste.

With silent steps, she walked towards her bedroom and searched for all the documents she needed. House title, under Vernon's name. The cars' certificate title, one under her name and one under Vernon's. Life insurance, she was the benefactor. Wait, what?

She scanned the document again and it didn't change. Since when Vernon had this? No, never mind. She didn't care in the least since when, only how much money she would get. Would it cover the funeral expenses? She needed to call the company and make an appointment as soon as possible.

Well then. Bank account beneficiary, fortunately her. Marge was going to be hard enough to deal with. That harpy would leave her in the streets if she could!

Now, what to do?

She only had her typing course as qualification and no other kind of higher education. With reluctance, she admitted perfect Lily was right, she should have attended university. But how was she supposed to know this would happen? Petunia carefully planned every step of her life and everything was bloody perfect until now, the day Vernon irresponsibly decided to get himself killed in a car crash! Perhaps it was poetic justice, she admitted, containing her desire to punch the walls.

She and Vernon told Harry his parents died in a drunken car crash when he asked a month or so ago. It was ironic that her husband was the one to die that way. A shiver slithered down her spine when she realized she would have joined Vernon to the afterlife if they got a nanny for the night. With a horrified gasp, Petunia ran towards the toilet and threw up. When her stomach was empty and her muscles ached, she splashed cold water on her face.

What would happen to Dudley then? Marge would never raise a baby so the orphanage was the only option left. Her knees gave out when reality hit her.

If Lily and her husband were still alive, they would have taken Dudley and raised him as their own. Magic notwithstanding. An almost hysteric chuckle left her chest and she could already feel her eyes filling with tears. Even after death, perfect Lily was still better than simple Petunia. Well, she would no longer give her dead sister that satisfaction!

With a wince, Petunia remembered the fight she had with Vernon about placing Harry in the cupboard under the stairs. He definitely disagreed with her decision, but what else could she do? The boy woke up screaming, waking up Dudley in the process. It was logical to move the boy to the room that was furthest away from her Diddykins. It was hard enough to deal with one baby, she couldn't deal with two. In the end, sleep deprivation won over Vernon's morals. She should have listened to him.

Tears were streaming down her face.

"Think, Petunia, think. There is no time to waste," she whispered to herself. There was going to be enough time for regrets and tears later.

What would she do now, that was the question. She could no longer stay in the house. It may be her dream home, but she couldn't afford paying the expenses by herself. Besides, she kind of hated the bitchy, conniving gossipers she had as neighbours. Being the perfect suburbia mum took too much energy. Moving out was a perfectly reasonable decision.

So, she needed to contact the insurance company first. Then, she would take care of the paperwork that followed Vernon's demise and maybe look for a lawyer. Finally, she would find a real estate agent and begin her search for a new place. When Petunia saw the grey sky through the windows, she knew it was going to be a very long day.

With a tired groan, Petunia collapsed on the coach, allowing her sore body to take a well-deserved break. The last weeks were borderline torturous, to say the least.

The day after the incident – as she preferred to call it because it was too painful otherwise – was a nightmare. From taking the kids to the day nursery to going to the morgue, to meeting a dozen leeches who thought she was a brainless blonde who happened to be a young widow. Fortunately, her Evans genes ran strong and her mind was sharp, not to mention the cutthroat nature she inherited from her mother. Thanks to this and her talent to read people, Petunia managed to acquire the services of a particularly ancient barrister who happened to find some sort of amusement in her sordid plans. What a charming gentleman.

In the end, she managed to coerce the forensic doctor in charge of issuing Vernon's death certificate into something that would benefit her when claiming the insurance money in exchange of not revealing the... compromising position, per se, she found the man in with one of the corpses. Then, she had to deal with the bloodsuckers also known as the insurance company.

Petunia purposefully chose the rush hour of the day in order to present the needed papers. Of course, once you added a few tears here and there and two children watching silently from the sidelines, it was hard for the person to deny her request. Especially when there were so many witnesses around. After all, even wolves had to act like sheep under the judging gaze of the farmer.

Her greatest surprise in the whole process was discovering how much money she now had at her disposal. Vernon never believed on owning anything to anyone, including the bank. Unfortunately, he also had the penchant of saving at least half of his salary. If it wasn't for her in laws' generous gifts after the wedding, Petunia would have been forced to live a humbler life. Vernon's parents gifted them the house as a wedding present, along with one car. After their death, ironically in a car crash, they left their money to their children. Even when the harpy of Marge managed to keep most of the inheritance, the money Vernon got was a nice motivation to begin saving for a bigger house. All in all, her late husband had no debts and a constant income. And once you added the life insurance money...

Now she thanked Vernon's parsimonious ways because she was left in a surprisingly comfortable position. However, she had few skills aside from her housekeeping knowledge and baking talent so she had to find a way of multiplying the money she had. It was not time to splurge, but to manage her newfound fortune carefully.

If that was not enough good fortune, life must be compensating her for her loss because the good luck didn't end there. Finding Mister Holmes, the old lawyer, was a blessing. Of that, Petunia held no doubts. The old man was astoundingly effective and had more contacts than anyone had the right to. In a matter of days, almost everything was done. She honestly believed the man was still in the game not because of the pay, but because of the pleasure of making others suffer. In any case, it aligned with her goals so she had no complaints. Besides, he always complimented her baking and even gave her a few ideas on how to start over this stage of her life.

Mister Holmes also managed to contact Petunia with a friend of his, a similarly old woman who was renting the flat above hers. It was far too convenient, suspiciously so. Therefore, she checked the place and met the woman in person. It was clean, the old woman was extremely kind and accommodating, not to mention the place was not bad at all. However, her mother taught her to be suspicious of every act of kindness so Petunia hired another barrister for the paperwork and some kind of inspector to look over the place, just in case. In the end, her efforts were in vain because everything was clean.

However, Mister Holmes seemed pleased about her distrustful nature. Charming man.

"Mum! Mum! Mum!" Dudley yelled, holding his chubby hands up to be lifted and Petunia complied. "I want cakey!"

She closed her eyes when she felt her headache get worse at the noise her son was making. Harry was silently watching from his seat on the rug - he still eyed her with wariness. She tried to smile gently at the boy, only making him look at the floor.

"I will make you both a sandwich and some warm milk, then to bed."

Petunia ignored Dudley's complaints, not willing to take out her frustration on her baby. Now that she had to raise two kids alone, perhaps it was time to be stricter because she wouldn't allow them to act like troglodytes. She mechanically went through the motions of making three sandwiches after placing two cups of milk in the microwave.

"Here you go," she told the children and lifted them to their respective seats.

Harry began eating without a single word, taking small bites and enjoying the flavour. It made Petunia smile to know that at least one of her kids appreciated her efforts. Dudley simply scowled at the lettuce peeking from the edge of the sandwich and pushed the plate away.

"Don't wanna! Mum!" Tears began forming in his eyes as Dudley began throwing a tantrum. She didn't have the heart to forcefully stop him. "I want dad!"

And there was that, Petunia had yet to tell the kids what happened to Vernon. She only said he had to travel and didn't really know how to handle this situation.

The funeral was small, only a few of Vernon's friends assisted. Petunia did not bother inviting the neighbours. When she thought the whole affair was over, Marge barged in the cemetery when it was time to lower the coffin and began yelling at her. It was horrible, but not for the reasons one would expect.

That harpy accused her of killing Vernon to inherit his money, going as far as threatening to sue Petunia if she didn't receive at least half of what was left and many other stupid things. The only thing that really bothered Petunia was Marge's threat to gain Dudley's custody and leaving Harry in the street. Then she snapped.

The only thing Petunia could clearly remember is the feeling of the skin of her knuckles breaking when she punched the harpy, knocking her out cold and breaking her nose in the process. Fortunately, she had Mister Holmes on her side, which meant she had justice on her side. Or at least the judge and the police. Details. Now she and her children had a restraining order against Marjorie Dursley, who was conveniently forced to compensate her for attempted aggravated assault. How the old man managed that, Petunia had no idea, but she wouldn't say no to money.

"I miss dad!" Dudley wailed, fat tears running down his cheeks. Right, she had a son to take care of.

"I miss him too," Petunia whispered, hugging her son. "Come on, dear, daddy wouldn't want to see you cry. Look at Harry, he is being such a brave boy." She smiled at her nephew, who lightened up at the praise and even gave her a diminutive smile in response.

"You no brave!" Dudley yelled as he threw his sandwich to the boy. "Harry has no daddy!"

There was something in Dudley's tone that finally snapped her infinite maternal patience. It was a mix of pride and gloating, the same tone Petunia's mother used when she said something she knew would hurt and enjoyed it. That woman would not taint her son and Petunia would rip the pollution from the roots.

"Dudley Evan Dursley," she said in a calm tone that immediately made her son stop crying, his eyes widened. There were many things she wanted to say, but she wouldn't until she was calm enough. "Go to your room, you are grounded."

She watched as Dudley got out of his chair without a word. She would not yell at him, she refused to follow that woman's example. Petunia frowned when her son stopped walking, looking like a deer caught by headlights, so she turned to see what he was looking at. It was Harry looking at the table. There were silent tears rolling down his cheeks and her heart broke a little more. Why did he had to inherit Lily's looks? It was so hard to look at him, but she couldn't leave him in that state.

Petunia gently rocked the boy until he was calm, she cleaned him off and put him to bed. Sleep was eluding her tonight so it was easy to hear the slight sound of small footsteps walking towards Dudley's room. She waited a few minutes before investigating.

Harry was talking, she could hear his voice from the doorway. Dudley was asking questions. The sob that almost escaped her lips was enough to bring her back to reality. Harry was telling Dudley a fantastic story of how Vernon was now taking care of them from the sky, just like his parents. It was heartbreaking, in a sobering way, to realize how forgiving toddlers were.

That was the day she decided she would love Harry Potter despite of Lily.

Petunia sat on the ground in an undignified heap, but she had no energy to move. It was finally done!

On a strike of fortune, she casually met a couple who wanted to buy a house in a family friendly neighbourhood. Little Whinging was family friendly, as long as you pretended the neighbours didn't exist, but the couple didn't need to know that. In that swift twist of fate, Petunia managed to sell her house at a handsome price, especially when she mentioned all the offers she had. What could she say, mother taught her how to be an excellent liar. Her little lies, along with playing the role of the widow who found it too painful to keep living in the house that brought her oh-so-many memories was enough to convince the small family. The paperwork would be finished in a month at most. All the money of the transaction would be used for a new place once the kids were older.

Now that everything was done, she would finally allow herself to relax. Her body felt too drained and her eyelids were so heavy she was sure she would have fallen asleep if not for the two boys that ran past her towards the door.

"Don't run in the stairs!"

Adrenaline flushed her body as she followed the giggling children. Harry immediately stopped running when she yelled but Dudley kept on going, if it wasn't for her sharp reflexes, her clumsy child would have broken something when he tripped in the first step.

"What did I just say?" she asked rhetorically, scowling at her wayward son. "Go with Harry to your room if you want to play."

"But we're bored!" Dudley whined, making her sigh. Why couldn't her son be more like Harry? Obedient and quiet. "Let's go park, mum!"

"Aunt Petunia is tired, let's go," Harry mumbled as he grabbed Dudley's hand and guided him towards their room.

Then again, she wished Harry was not so obedient and quiet. The boy was still wary of her, but at least he warmed up considerably.

Now that tiredness was forgotten, she went back to work with a sigh.

They officially moved yesterday and it was an exhausting process. The place already had the basic furnishing and the only thing she had to buy was a bunk bed for the kids. She still needed to decorate their new place, but at least they were ready to start over again.

Petunia thought on different businesses, but there was nothing that she really enjoyed doing aside from cooking and baking. What could she say? It was an almost therapeutic hobby, especially when kneading (punching) was involved, so she decided to invest in the stock market and buy some actions in promising companies. However, she needed a hobby unless she wanted stress to consume her alive. Now she understood why Vernon began stress eating when he was ascended.

That is how she decided to start a small bakery. Petunia needed something to do aside from paperwork, and baking didn't really take that much time once you developed a system. Her other option was still baking as a hobby, but she would literally bake too much to consume and she was not one to waste so at least she could make a little money from that. Besides, she doubted the small kitchen of the flat could handle all the stress baking she would be doing in a near future.

If anything, she only needed to invest a little money to start the bakery. Namely, less than a third of the money the harpy was forced to pay as compensation. Petunia felt the irrational need to gloat that information off in Marge's face, but she had too much self-control. A shame, really. It would be an amusing experiment.

Mister Holmes, the old barrister, was ecstatic with the news of the bakery. Unnervingly so. He went as far as to gift her two large industrial ovens as a home warming present. While the man seemed harmless enough, Petunia had the feeling he wanted something from her. Well, maybe he wanted a companion in his last years of life and was trying to woo her over. She never imagined becoming a gold digger, but maybe she would consider it once she was stable enough. While she doesn't have the looks, she certainly has the brains and the charm. In any case, that was something to consider later on, right now, she had important matters to take care of.

First, she would bake a few goods and gift them to the neighbours in a show of good will, casually mentioning her intentions to start a bakery. Tomorrow she would begin painting the shop and would look around for a few display shelves and all the bloody paraphernalia for the kitchen. Maybe she could take the kids to that lovely Italian restaurant for lunch and then to the park before leaving them with Mrs McPhee for the evening.

While Petunia had her doubts about the old woman, mainly because of her accommodating nature, now she felt at ease in her presence. She saw the pictures of Mrs McPhee late husband and adult children. It was no wonder for her to be so eager to rent the flat above hers when the place seemed so lonely with only one person inhabiting it. The best part of the deal is that the old woman loved children and offered herself to look over the kids. All in all, it was a relief. Especially considering that yesterday, when they were leaving Little Whinging for good, there was another person who moved into Privet Drive. An old woman with none of the charm of Mrs McPhee and a dozen ugly cats in tow. She thanked her lucky stars because the Dorsey's, the family that was moving in the house, were not present to witness that atrocity.

Petunia shook her head in order to concentrate and began organizing the house once again. She eyed the couches with distaste and scowled at the dining table, those would have to go. It would be easy enough to convince Mrs McPhee, or at least she hoped so. When she sold the furniture of her old house, a few beanbags caught her eye. For the perfect suburbia mother, a beanbag was sacrilege, but for a young widow living in the middle of London, who cares what people think? Besides, the beanbags were cheap and comfy. Maybe she would even buy a low table and find ways of making this flat her new home.

Petunia forced her shoulders to relax and her smile to remain polite while meeting the strange man, who was eyeing the biscuits she gifted him as if they were poison. Just her luck, the last house she visited for the day happened to be the place where the lovely Mrs Hudson lived, along with her strange tenant. At least the man was no wizard and was handsome enough for his rude ways to be partially forgiven.

"I suppose that you have some kind of interest in order to gift me these... treat," the man muttered, not even looking at her. Petunia wondered if his deep voice would become a high-pitched scream if she kicked his family jewels.

"Of course I do," she admitted, still smiling. Apparently, that was enough to pike the man's interest because he finally deemed her worthy enough to look at.

"Let me guess, recently widowed and eager to start over." Despite of his words, there was only curiosity and some satisfaction on the man's tone. "What a strange reaction... You don't seem surprised."

"Perhaps because I still am mourning my husband and I have yet to remove my wedding ring. I can hardly be surprised, black is a dead giveaway."

"That is a strange reaction," the man muttered to himself and began pacing around the room. With certain curiosity, Petunia noted the 221B flat was a much smaller version of her own, if she was a bachelor with no sense of self-preservation, that is. Though she wondered how was that possible when both houses seemed identical from the outside. "You have one son and are taking care of your nephew."

"Yes, all the neighbours are aware of that," Petunia answered blandly. For some reason, her reaction seemed to annoy the man.

"Your husband left you in a comfortable position, only then you could have afforded moving so soon. Judging by your hands, you are used to house work, but the way you carry yourself speaks of a privileged upbringing. I am guessing that you married well but your husband happened to be stingy. You care about appearances and are looking for a new husband. That or you are advertising your bakery, am I right?" The man asked, wearing an infuriating smirk that made her fists itch with desire to punch him. Yet, she remained calm. If she had something to thank her bitchy old neighbours for, was for training her phlegmatic facade.

"And am I right to assume that you are the youngest child?" Petunia asked in a saccharine tone. The annoying man's smirk dropped.

"How did you know?" was asked in a whisper as the man lowered his face to examine her features. He looked torn between confusion and curiosity.

'Because you are an impolite brat,' is what she wanted to say but kept for herself. "A mother always knows," Petunia answered instead.

Fortunately, Mrs Hudson came back. Otherwise, she was not responsible for any kind of physical damage the annoying man was going to suffer. However, instead of bringing some tea, the woman brought two men with her. One of them was awfully familiar.

"Mister Holmes, it's a surprise to see you here," she greeted the old man, smiling gently at him.

"Ah, Petunia! So good to see you. I see that you already met my grandson," the man said gaily, taking a seat on the hideous yellow coach.

"You know each other. Good! I have to go back to the kitchen for the tea. Sherlock, behave," Mrs Hudson said before leaving the room in a hurry. So that was the rude man's name.

"May I know the reason why you were planning to attack my brother?" the man holding an umbrella asked, calculating her every move.

"I was just going to acquaint him with a slight love tap. Biscuit?" Petunia kept up her smile as she offered the treats to the newcomers. The rude man named Sherlock was eyeing her with narrowed eyes.

"You have a gift, Petunia," the old man complimented and she allowed her smile to turn a bit less fake.

"I promise they are not poisoned," she said, taking one in the process and biting into it. The man holding an umbrella seemed to be torn between amusement and suspicion, yet he still took a biscuit. Maybe because of the not so subtle pinch he received from the old man. Lovely. Weren't the Holmes a friendly bunch?

"You have family issues-"

"Doesn't everyone?" she asked, interrupting whatever the rude man was going to say. Strangely, the man with an umbrella seemed to choke. Good, as far as she was concerned, these two Holmes were people the world could do without.

"You never went to university-"

"I married young," was her swift response. The man with an umbrella tried to cover his laughter with a fake cough. Shame, she was hoping for the man to choke to death. For some reason, the eldest Holmes seemed to be amused by the situation.

"Aha! You had a sister who was better-"

"For goodness sake, Sherlock! I am gone for a few hours and you are harassing our new neighbour!" A man yelled from the doorway, carrying multiple shopping bags with him and glaring at the rude man. "Help me with these and I'll kill you later. Uhm, hello, my name is John Watson and he is Sherlock Holmes. Sorry about whatever he did, he can be quite rude sometimes."

"Don't mention it," Petunia said to the new comer. The blond man seemed to be the only normal person in the room, barring her, so she liked him already. "Petunia Evans."

"You brought biscuits?" John asked, then, he proceeded to glare at the Holmes. "I am really sorry about him. Mycroft, why didn't you control your brother?"

"We just arrived, boy, live a little," the old man answered, making John flinch.

"I didn't see you there, sorry Mister Holmes."

"Nah, don't worry about it. Call me Tom already, son."

"This is all nice and dandy, but I have to leave," Petunia said, not having the energy to put up with the household's craziness.

"Oh my goodness," John hissed, looking apologetic. "I'm so sorry, we are making you uncomfortable. Um, do you-"

"I don't mean to be rude, but I really have to leave. I have two children waiting at home."

"Oh, well then. I would like to visit you and try to make up for, you know," John muttered, pointing at a grumbling Sherlock that was organizing the food in the pantry.

"We can have tea at my house," Petunia conceded, especially because the man was the only sane person in the house, sans Mrs Hudson. "Good night, John, Mister Holmes."

With that farewell, she left without looking back. The day was tiresome enough without meeting those strange persons. In any case, she still liked her new place, even if she had lunatics as neighbours and an insane barrister as an acquaintance. After all, life could be worse.

Mycroft watched as the strange woman left the flat in unhurried steps. How curious. He was not even allowed to drown on his musings when he heard his brother's yelp, courtesy of Doctor Watson inflicting some sort of physical damage, no doubt.

"Why were you so rude to her?! She even brought us biscuits, Sherlock. Fresh, poison and human remains free biscuits! Do you know how long has it been since I had one of those?"

Mycroft tuned out the scolding Doctor Watson was giving his baby brother. He may be the Government, but everyone knew that once the Doctor began ranting, he should be left alone with the victim unless you wanted to be on the receiving end.

"What do you think about her?" his grandfather asked, confirming his suspicions.

"So you are planning what I think you are planning?"

"Ha, as if you could read me, boy. You are fifty years too young to even begin trying."

He only gave a non-committal grunt in response. Grandpa was planning something and, if life taught him anything, was to be wary of a Holmes' machinations. However, Mycroft was unable to tear his gaze from the treat on his hand. His mouth was watering at the sight. In the end, his love for food triumphed over his self-control and he took a bite.

"Good, aren't they?"

Good? Only good?! What a blasphemy! These were the best biscuits he ever tried in his thirty-two years of life. They were the gift of gods to simple mortals. He felt as if the secrets of the universe were revealed to him. After this, no other biscuit would compare! If that woman, Petunia, was able to bake this, who knew what other wonders she could make.

"I like her," Mycroft muttered after a moment, taking the time to compose himself.

Even if Petunia Evans didn't have the baking skills of a god, then he would have liked her by the way on which she dealt with his baby brother. Until the moment, he never met a woman who was able to deal with the Holmes aside from Mummy.

Mycroft was curious about what the future would bring.