Disclaimer: All belongs to JK Rowling.
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"Interlude"
A shrill scream of a newly wakened baby pierced through the deep rumbling of Vernon Dursley's snores. Petunia Evans-Dursley knew how it was, and dragged her weary body out of bed. She padded down the hall in her pink slippers, tying the pink bathrobe securely around her waist. Creaking the door open, she looked in upon the face of her baby boy. He was still, chubby hands clutching the blue baby blanket. For a moment she thought that he was done crying for the night when a fresh scream filled the night air. It wasn't her precious Diddy-Dumpkins. It was her nephew.
She immediatly turned to go back to bed and ignore the crying of the annoying boy, but for some reason her feet led her down the stairs to the tiny cupboard underneath. Slowly, and quite unsure of why she was here, she opened the door and peered into the musty area. The baby with persistantly messy black hair was tossing and turning, his face a mask of tears.
Unable to stop herself, she reached out for the boy, and rocked him in her arms gently, silently whispering soothing words. Harry's cries died quickly, Petunia noted reluctantly, much quicker then her own Dudley's ever had. Harry opened his small eyes and looked up at Petunia. Once again, she was shocked at how much like Lily's his eyes were. "Hello Harry," she whispered, "Had a bad dream?" Harry's face turned into a grin and his tiny hand reached up to her face. Forgetting herself, she caught the hand in her own and gazed down upon this small wonder.
Looking again into the cupboard in which her husband and she stored this boy, a wave of guilt swept over her and she staggered into the kitchen and sat down. Tears pricked her eyes in the late night and for the only time in her life, Petunia mourned her sister. As if trying to sooth her now, Harry cooed gently, leading Petunia to cry even more. "Oh Lily!" she whipsered, partly to herself and partly to anyone who would listen. She held the small boy close to her body, and not before long felt him reach his arms around her neck, giving her his tiny, baby hug. Petunia hugged him back, loving every inch of this tiny baby for the small affection shown to her.
When the clock chimed, Petunia was rushed back to reality. With a heart of steel, she carried Harry back to his cupboard. She layed him amongst the dirt and the spiders and only faltered when he gurgled up at her questioningly. But she closed the door anyway. As she climbed the stairs, she thought foward to the morning, when she would return to her hatred for the innocent boy beneath her feet.