Prologue: How we got here...
Fourteen years, seven months, and three days ago:
The small village of Bobfoote had two pubs, one grocer, and a single petrol station with two pumps. The nearest church could be found south ten miles in Godric's Hollow. Of the two pubs, the Broken Tap bore the mantle of housing dark deals made in darker corners by those whose shadows never saw the light of day; the scaly underbelly showing its warts in a quiet corner of the West Country of England.
Wertham Evans was a hard drinker, had been all his life. The drink kept him from never having a family, and to be estranged from the one from whence he was raised. Not that it mattered. The only living family left was his brother's spawn that he had not seen for years. He kept to himself and scraped to get by, and lately times had been harder, yet he never turned to them for help. But now, knowing them was finally going to pay off. His niece, god rest her soul, still wrote him on occasion even though they had not seen each other since she left Bobfoote for school in Scotland. She was married, and had a son, Harry, and he had a great nephew. But it mattered little to him until he saw the gold being offered by the posh pale young man with pale yellow hair and an affected accent. He wore a suit of black silk, with a gaze that seemed to sneer at him. Wertham could feel the young man's contempt. Any other time, he would have punched him in the face and gone back to his pint, but these were hard times. His tab at the pub had been cut off. The county constable had delivered a final eviction notice for failure to pay property taxes for several years. He needed the money. His best mate, Everett Billings, put a boney hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Wert, this fella looks to be up to no good, are you rilly goin' to sell out your niece to this wanker?"
"Shedup, Evert. Wot she ever do fer me? This'll keep a roof over me head and a stout in me hand for the next ten years! All I gotta do it tell him where she lives, wot 'arm wilt it do?"
Fourteen years and seven months ago:
Petunia was the one to hear the babe crying. She knew it was not Dudley; he was sleeping in her arms as she rocked him in the sitting room. She had the radio on BBC3 listening to classical music softly in the background. It seemed that like his father, it put Dudley to sleep rather quickly.
She continued to hear a tearful wail. The crying was very close by. Petunia lay down her large toddler baby boy on the sofa, deep in the corner so he would not roll to the floor. She walked to the foyer hallway. The cry was louder. She walked towards the door. The cries were louder. Vernon was snoring deeply upstairs. She approached the door apprehensively. Would it be her sister, with baby in hand, finally thrown out by her worthless husband, or perhaps she left him willingly, finally sick of dealing with that demented, magical world and the evil running loose in it? She opened the door. Her sister was not there, only a baby boy, left in a basket. He had crawled out of it, and was now sitting forlornly on the stoop, holding onto the basket for support and crying his eyes out. Petunia stooped over, talking soothingly to the child. "Well hello, who are you, young man? Where did you come from?" The babe stopped crying at the sound of the soothing voice. It was a voice that sounded very much like his mother's. He looked up at the woman who was bent over him. "Why are you crying your little eyes out? Poor baby! Where is your muh...mmm. "
She grew quiet. Tears began to trickle down Petunia's cheeks. She peered at the baby's face. Those eyes. They were Lily's eyes. The baby reached up, held his hands out to Petunia. Petunia picked him up and turned to look out at the street. Her eyes darted around, looking for someone, hopefully a young woman with strawberry red hair. No one was there, only a dark grey striped tabby cat. The cat sat on the edge of the driveway. It looked her way then quickly ran off down the pavement. Petunia turned to leave, and then turned back and picked up the basket while balancing the baby on her hip and entered the house.
Two hours later. She had found the letter and read it. She had also found the cheque for ten thousand pounds drawn on a Gringott's bank made out to Petunia Dursley. It was the first of regular semi-annual payments for care of the Potter baby. The baby was playing on the floor with one of Dudley's rattles. She had changed his wet nappy, but he was getting restless and fussy. She knew he was hungry. There was no bottle, no formula in the basket. She was only breast-feeding Duddy.
She decided she would do it. She undid her blouse and pulled on the cup of her nursing bra to expose her gum drop nipple. She cradled the baby and he nuzzled to her breast, finding the nipple quickly. He began to suck, and Petunia could feel strong warmth spread from the babe's mouth and down her nipple and across the fleshy globe of her breast, into her upper chest, and down, down into her chest. She could swear that there was a slight blue glow surrounding them... There was no moon due to the cloud filled sky... the glow was not coming from the window. She looked down at the baby. He was sucking but not seeming to get anything. Duddy had a strong appetite; she was running dry. Petunia searched her memory for some of the magic she had learned on her own. She remembered the nursing spell, one that was used by nursemaid witches for the royalty hundreds of years ago. Something she had read from one of Lily's textbooks that Lily had left behind when she moved to Hogsmeade when she was seventeen. Petunia still held onto those books, squirreled away where Vernon would not find them. "Engorgio... Engorgio lactis!"
Petunia's breasts swelled and filled with milk. She was amazed that it worked so well on her first try. This would come in handy. Harry contentedly sucked until sated. He fell asleep quickly, and Petunia laid him on the other end of the sofa from Dudley. Harry rolled onto his back. The clouds parted, and the moon shone through the window onto his sleeping face. Petunia could not help it, despite her differences with her sister and their life choices, she felt unnaturally attached to this baby already. She finally noticed the red line on the baby's forehead in the light. She kissed it. She tasted blood. Was the poor baby bleeding? She felt a shock, and darkness flashed before her eyes. She swooned and fell to the floor.
Petunia was not sure how long she was out. It could have been moments, minutes, or perhaps a couple of hours? She was not sure, she just felt tired, tired and angry. How could that bitch do this to her? How could she leave? Just like when Lily left her alone at home to attend Hogwarts. Petunia was on her own, no longer able to fend off their drunken father by herself. How could she saddle her with her brat- leave a defenseless babe alone in this terrible world? How could she risk everything for that stupid world of magic, only to be killed by it? Angry tears filled her eyes. Now she had a constant reminder. A constant reminder that they never reconciled, that they would never watch each other's children grow up, that only bitter, hateful words were left between them they last they saw each other. She looked down at the constant reminder, sleeping with his fists curled next to his ears.
One week later:
"Those bastards!" Petunia was furious. She paced the floor of the kitchen. Vernon looked up from his bowl of ice cream.
"They already had the funeral! I am her only living relative and they did not let us know! Those fucking witches and wizards had their funeral and could not bother with the muggle sister! They are dead! They are fucking dead to me! All their kind should be locked up and the key thrown away!"
Petunia burst into tears and ran to the bathroom. Vernon picked up the chocolate sauce and added more to the bowl.
One month later:
The row was epic. The screaming and throwing of things, the babies crying hysterically. And the punch. Hard and square into her eye. She landed on the floor. Vernon had seen her pick up Harry to feed him before Dudley. It was the last time Harry would ever come first.
Eleven years and six months ago:
Vernon took the last of the dusty boxes out of the cupboard under the stairs. He dragged the camp cot mattress down from the attic and shoved it into the bare wood floor of the closet. The corners rounded a bit at each end, the mattress was just a bit longer than the closet floor.
"See, fits perfectly! " Vernon dusted his hands in satisfaction. Petunia turned her nose at the smell of the stale, slightly mossy mattress. There was an animal urine smell present. She sprayed the closet with air cleaner while holding her nose.
" I got these blankets and sheets at the thrift shop for 2 pounds, Oh, and this pillow.! " He held up a goose feather pillow that was now beaten to a fill about a fourth of what it had been when new. The covering that was once white, was now grey with rings and rings of yellow sweat stains. Petunia sprayed it before she placed it inside the old pillowcase with the cigarette burn hole on the corner.
"He starts sleeping here tonight."
"But he is only four years old." Petunia protested feebly.
"Exactly. We should have thought about this a year ago!"
1 year ago:
Petunia remembered as a girl listening to the stories of the strange neighbor boy Severus. He told her all about the dangerous creatures known as Dementors. She listened to Dudley ramble on, as he rocked and stared out at nothing in particular from his bed as she sat on the edge and held his hand. They had returned from hospital, and Dudley was now under a heavy sedative. Dudley, in halting detail related the whole story of the attack. " And he saved me. He. Saved. Me. I- I thought he hated me. He could have run. I would have run. Fecking hell. He bloody... saved me. He threw the light an' blew those bastards outta... the tunnel. He saved me, mum. "
Petunia went directly to Harry's room. She rapped on his door. Harry opened it and she barged into the room. Harry backed up looking apprehensive and genuinely scared.
Petunia threw her arms around the broad shoulders of her nephew and hugged him sobbing. She kissed him on the neck and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for saving my son." She hugged him some more. Harry was taken aback. He patted her gently on the shoulder. "You... You're... welcome?"
Petunia left his room as quickly as she came.
One week ago, Thursday:
Harry woke from the dream he was having on the train from Hogwarts. They had all arrived at Kings Cross Station, and he met many members of the Order at the station. Mad-Eye Moody had given Vernon and Petunia what for their treatment of Harry. Dudley had looked scared, and the Dursleys had promised to treat Harry better. Instead there was no one there at all. Just a porter with a message that he must ride on, to Little Whinging on his own by rail- the family car was not available for them to use. He sighed; now his foster family did not even care to meet him at the station. Well, he was older now, and perhaps it was for the best. The Dursleys and magic folk were like oil on water. He made it back to Privet Drive in one piece, another successful year.
This summer was going to be totally mental, Harry thought to himself as he unpacked his trunk and made his bed. Petunia was the only one who met him at the Little Whinging railway station. He could tell she had been drinking or had taken one her mother's little helpers. She was animated and actually a bit friendly. She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it when she met him. "My, you have gotten much taller this last year. You look... sturdier. "Harry looked her over. He never noticed how fit his Aunt was... and was she wearing jeans? Very tight jeans. She wore open toed heels. Her toes were painted a bright pink. She had on a bright pink blouse that was opened one button more than conservative. Her breasts were large but perky and her blouse accented that. Aunt Petunia had always dressed in a feminine manner, but it used to be old housewife. This was more girly, more in the MILF range of attire. She started out the door, then stopped and adjusted a strap on her right heel as he was following her out the door. She was bent over, and Harry took a hard look at her long slender legs and well-formed behind. He noticed that a couple of other men were also appreciating the view.
Aunt and nephew walked together home from the railway station. Petunia explained that Vernon had the Honda, because he would be working late in the city and would miss the last commuter train out, so he had to drive in today. Vernon had been promoted to run an acquisition project; Grunnings was purchasing Weldon's Motor and Bit Company.
Petunia was practically chatty. She would stop, turn around and relay a bit of news, then walk on, and then ask a question of him. She seemed to be genuinely interested in what he thought. She relayed that she had spoken to Albus himself, and that he had told her of his godfather's death, and the fact that they must be careful, but that the Order was placing protective spells around Little Whinging and 4 Privet Drive. She stated this information in a matter of fact way, and her attitude matched it as well. Harry was sure she was either drunk or highly sedated. They were soon at the Dursley Home. Petunia fumbled for the keys in her purse, dropping them. She bent over to retrieve them, and once again Harry appreciated the view, with a stray thought of what it would be like to bend her over and roger Petunia right up her bum. He tried to brush the thought away like an annoying gnat... This was his Aunt, the bitch that made him feel like dirt and used him a servant for much of his young life. The one who piled work chore upon work chore and always treated him like a burden and an annoyance. She was only treating him nicely now because of him saving Dudley and due to her fear of what would happen next with Death Eaters at large and probably after his head.
"Leave your things in the hall, we will go have a lemonade. I have more to tell you." Petunia was impressed with Harry's strength and stamina. He had handled his trunk and bags all the way home like it was nothing... Not out of breath and wheezing that would have been par for her husband and son. His shoulders were broader; her nephew was now taller than her. They sat at the bar counter in the kitchen. Aunt Petunia went to the fridge and pulled out the glass pitcher of lemonade and opened a tin of biscuits and brought them to the counter. She wore a bright pink blouse with flowers. A button had come undone and she seemed not to notice. She leaned over the counter, her hands clasped and her elbows resting on the counter. Harry sat across from her and got an eyeful of her well- tanned cleavage.
"You look very tan and rested, Aunt Petunia."
"Yes, well Vernon and I recently went on Holiday in Majorca. I got a chance to slather myself in oil and lay in the sun." She actually smiled. A bit devilish Harry thought. But his imagination had placed her on a sandy beach in a very small bikini and found it very agreeable.
"Which leads me to my news: Dudley will not be here this summer."
"Oh? why not?"
"He is in Ireland, on educational holiday. He is staying with a cousin of Vernon, Molly McDonough. She is a spinster who lives alone in Cork. She is a teacher, and why Duddy is there. You know, after, after the end of last summer, he was left out of sorts. It took a bit of time for him to get back to his old self. He ended up a bit behind in his studies. We made arrangements with the school for an at home summer study program to get him caught up", she stopped to take a sip of her lemonade. Another button had slipped open at the tightness of her full cleavage. Petunia noticed it, and buttoned it, but left the one above still undone. She noticed Harry trying to nonchalantly not look like he was staring at her tits. She smiled inside. His hormones were off the charts at that age. She fanned herself over her breasts. "It sure is warm today, it is supposed to be warm all week." It got the desired result; her nephew was blatantly enjoying her cleavage. Well, at least one in man in the house was looking at her, she thought. Vernon was useless.
"Back to my news. So Duddy will not be back until right before school starts. You will not see your cousin all summer." She waited for a smart aleck reply from her nephew, but she did not get it.
Harry looked up and looked very tired and defeated, but also sincere. "That is too bad, but I hope he is enjoying himself in Ireland." Harry was hoping for some normalcy, even if it included torture and taunting from his cousin. He would not get it this summer. He was left alone. Sirius was gone. He was left alone with no relative who understood what he was going through.
Aunt Petunia could tell he was tired. "Why don't you go unpack after you finish your drink and biscuit."
Harry nodded, lost in thought. He wished so much he could get his hand on that bitch Bellatrix. She would pay slowly and completely when he did. He missed Sirius, and Professor Lupin, and of course, Ron and Hermione. He thought of Cho, and although they had drifted apart, the night with her still played fondly in his mind.
With bed made, and Hedwig's perch readied on the dresser, Harry lay down to rest. It was very quiet in Little Whinging; he forgot how quiet it could be. Much quieter than Hogwarts. With Dudley not here, it was even more so. He fell asleep. Petunia came to check on him but did not wake him for dinner. She had planned a quiet dinner with the two of them. She wanted to finally let him in on a secret, but it weighed heavily on her how he would react. She was frightened, both for her nephew and especially for the family. She understood they were protected, but the world she mostly left behind was beginning to creep back upon them, after all these years of trying to stay in its shadows.
She draped a light blanket over Harry and left the room quietly.
Five days ago:
Saturday, and Vernon was working a half day then going with his boss to a football match. Petunia, sighed, another day at home. She thought she might shop on the telly channels or try to finish that romance novel that she had started before Harry arrived home.
Petunia requested that Harry cut the grass. The chores were still here and expected, but they were not given with derision or demented glee. Harry was having a hard time getting used to this new version of living at the Dursleys. It was not sunshine and rainbows to be sure. Vernon was still an asshole and treated Harry with the disdain and distrust that Harry expected, but his uncle seemed preoccupied and much more tired than he had seen him in the past, so the pure hatred had been diluted by his busy life quite a bit.
It was already very warm out. Harry took off his glasses and his damp t-shirt. He pushed the manual mower around the yard. It gave him a good work out...something to do.
Aunt Petunia kept a strong eye on him though. He could see her watching him through various windows in the house. She still did not trust him he thought. He ignored her. The sun felt good and Hedwig had finally made it to Privet Drive. He was beginning to worry about his owl when she finally made her appearance last night. He was much more relaxed now and decided to keep his head down and muddle through the summer the best he could.
Petunia came out. She had changed to a sunning outfit; it had a sailor look to it. A sailor like top of white with blue piping, with three large brass like buttons and a cowl around back. It was short, finishing just under her breasts. Her tummy was well exposed. But what got Harry interested were the shorts. They were a very tight and low-cut brief, like a pair of men's swim trunks from the 1960's that James Bond might wear in the movies. It was much tighter and shorter than she had worn in the past. They fit the shape of her hips very well. Petunia was in sandals, and her long legs were bare and brown. The little white shorts were of cotton material, and thin, especially as she stood in the sun. She prepared a lawn chair, spreading out a towel. She pulled off her sailor suit top and revealed a navy-blue bikini top. Harry knew that his Aunt had a good-sized bosom, but not how chesty she was until she was bouncing her prominent breasts as she walked back and forth from the patio table to the chair as she readied herself. Harry could feel a hard-on coming on and was glad he was wearing a very baggy pair of trousers. Petunia waved him over. She held up a bottle of tanning lotion.
"Nephew, come put some lotion on my back and shoulders. I want to make sure I have an even base for my sunning."
She had a wine spritzer in her hand. It was 11:00 a.m. in the morning. But who was paying attention other than Harry? Harry moved across the yard. Petunia handed the bottle to Harry and then after some elaborate adjustment of her top, including running her fingers inside each cup, to make sure her nephew was watching her breasts and her erect nipples, she turned and lay on the lounge chair face down. Harry gently massaged the tanning lotion into her shoulders and back. "Do the backs of my legs as well, Nephew." She said, her head turned as she rested it on her crossed arms. She lifted and kicked her legs back and forth.
Harry started with the soles of her feet now without sandals and worked up her slender but muscular calves and upper legs. Her tiny shorts gave a peek of the bottom crease of her ass cheeks. He was careful not to get too close to the hem of the shorts. He wanted to run his fingers right in and see where they led. He could tell that the shorts were not a cover like the top, they were meant to be worn as the swimming trunks for the outfit. She wore nothing underneath them, there were no lines of any type appearing through the fabric. Petunia sighed and gave out a low moan of satisfaction as Harry gently massaged the lotion into her upper thighs.
Petunia loved this. Harry was finally at an age of some maturity and use. He was turning out quite handsome she thought. She tried to do other things in the house, but after he took off his shirt, she became... distracted. His broad shoulders and lean body was certainly attractive in clothes, but when he took off his shirt, oh my lord! His abdomen was chiseled. It was like looking at a model. Harry had a six pack, and she wanted a drink! He caught her several times looking at him from the different windows in the house. She decided she might as well go outside and admire the view if she wasn't going to be able to do anything inside. She thought of other chores outside in the garden that could be done to keep him shirtless and sweating while she watched. She decided to wear that cute sailor suit of bathing shorts and top that she had bought in Spain. She might as well feel sexy while she was watching sexy. She tried to maintain her stern face; she mustn't get too soft on the boy. She giggled into the mirror. Her little blue pill was keeping her very happy today. Or was it the wine?
As Harry's hands reached the bottom of her bathing shorts, Petunia could feel her sex getting wet. She so much wanted Harry to pull her bottoms off and take her, put her onto all fours and force himself upon her. Perhaps force her to suck his cock. She wondered what his dick looked like these days; she had not seen it since she bathed him as a little boy. He was no little boy now. My god, Petunia, get a grip on yourself! She chastised herself; he is your nephew, and he is not yet sixteen, and you are a 38-year-old woman! Yes, a 38-year-old woman with a sixteen-year-old stud all alone with her in the house for the summer, another voice said. What are you going to do about it Petunia?
She had ideas... Her attraction to her nephew was unnaturally strong and instinctual. She could not tell you why, and why now it seemed to be hitting her so hard. She wished for her nephew's hands to enter her bottoms, to caress her ass.
Harry of course, was a perfect gentleman and though he took his time gently rubbing lotions on to her legs and thighs, he completed his task without mauling her. She had hoped for a least a couple of fingers "accidently" touching her cooze, but no luck.
"Harry, once you are done with the lawn, I have a couple of bushes that need trimming in the garden..."
Harry thought to himself, "There is only one bush I am interested in trimming."
Three days ago:
Harry was showering after again working in the garden in the hot sun. He was masturbating furiously while the conditioner in his hair was now dripping down his neck and back. He was thinking of Professor Trelawney without her glasses, her eyes closed, on all fours on the clay tile floor, his hands in her hair, forcefully pulling back. Her full tits swayed underneath her, nipples grazing the rough tile, as she grinded her hips. She was taking his cock with a guttural moan that nearly made him come the moment he entered her. She arched her back and urged him to put more of it inside her. Harry complied, and she moaned and made little high-pitched squeals as more and more of his shaft disappeared into her anus.
"Dear boy, fuck me harder," she had pleaded, while she continued to squeal and moan with every stroke of his long thick cock inside her... and he came, he came hard, and he tried to direct his load to the floor of the shower, but he saw some dripping down the wall behind the shower head. He tried redirecting the shower head to the wall, but water spray would not reach. He tried to cup water in his hands and splash it off the tile, but his spooge held steadfast.
He heard a rap at the door. "Harry! finish up, and leave some hot water for me, I simply must take a quick shower after all that sunning. I am oily and sweaty!" Harry was still very hard, and his aunt telling him that her body was oily and sweaty did not help. He quickly rinsed the conditioner out of his hair and wiped the spooge into his hand, grossing out at its stickiness. He turned off the shower and exited shower stall. He grabbed the towel off the rack, wiping his hand and wrapping the towel around him. Another rap at the door- "Nephew! please hurry up, I certainly need to take a shower very soon! "
Harry opened the door quickly, His towel barely wrapped around him, He dashed for his room across the hall, hoping his Aunt would not notice his erection. He did not make eye contact with Petunia, only quickly said as he was dashing, " Sorry Aunt Petunia! didn't think I would take that long!" By the time he said it, he was through the open door. Petunia looked at her fleeing Nephew, perturbed that he had not looked at her! She had her short kimono robe open, and her bra off, and only the bikini bottoms on. She had hoped to corner him in the bathroom for at least a bit of teasing, if not something more substantial. She was incredibly horny and a bit tipsy. She looked back quickly at her escaping nephew. His door still open, Harry's towel had dropped askew, and she saw his well-formed back and tight little ass. She also could swear that she saw part of the head of his penis swinging very close to his knee. No, he could not be that big, could he?
Harry, his face ten shades of red closed the door quickly before the image of his Aunt really registered. He saw a lot of leg, and what he thought was an open robe with her breast fully exposed. Was that right? No, it could not have been. He cracked open the door and peeked. All he saw was the back of his robed aunt as she disappeared into the bathroom.
Harry had left the bathroom a mess! Petunia, fumed, but I did drive the boy out, which was not my intention. She had hoped for a much different scenario. She decided the shower would have to do. She turned it on and tested the water, it was still very warm; Harry had left her some hot water to use. She peeled off the bikini bottoms and hung her robe and stepped into the shower. She went to adjust the cold water and found something sticking all over the knob. She knew exactly what it was. She had interrupted his masturbation, but at least he got to come, just not clean up. With her index finger, she scooped up as much of the large glob of sperm that she could get off the shower knob. She would have to have Harry clean this up later. She ran the tip of her tongue into it. It was sweet and tangy. Feeding Harry that pineapple orange juice seemed to have its benefits. She imagined what it would be like to suck his cock, and to make him erupt in her mouth and onto her tits. She turned the shower low, and faced away from the water, and began to smear the rest of his cum onto her pussy, especially around her clitoris. She rubbed the sticky cum into her pussy, stroking her cum covered clitoris and rubbing soon with abandon. She imagined Harry taking her, his cock would be big, at least eight inches. He would shove his hardness into her, shaking her body with his savage thrusts. His hands would caress and grip her and take her like no man has done before! He would kiss her neck and back and place his fingers anywhere he wanted. It did not take long for Petunia to cum, and she came very hard, with a more satisfying orgasm than she has had in such a while.
Two days ago:
Wednesday was her bridge day. Petunia was running out of chores for the boy. She decided he could go into the village and buy the ingredients for a spaghetti supper that night. She allowed him time alone. She thought of the loss of her sister, and the time she had wished she could have had to grieve. Albus had let her know how important his godfather was to Harry.
She had given him one of Duddy's old compact disc players to use for music. She had remembered how important music had been to her at that age. She played it off as another hand me down toss off that she was just going to throw it away, but Harry noticed that there was a twenty-quid bill slid into its case. His Aunt was going a bit mental, he thought, with Dudley away. Perhaps he had become the surrogate son in her eyes. He was not minding the kind attentions among the barrage of orders, but he would have to put his foot down if she started calling him "Harrykins". Harry thought of asking Petunia if he could telephone Hermione, but he thought it was much too soon to call in that type of favor.
She allowed him use of Dudley's home computer (He had taken his gaming laptop with him to Ireland) in to create a playlist and burn some of his own music, and some of the tunes Dudley had on file onto a blank disc. Dudley was more into the gangster rap than Harry preferred, but they shared the love of old speed metal, old punk and neo-punk. Harry created a haphazard playlist that copied most of that music over.
Petunia was dressed to the nines- this was a society bitches thing- well off middle-aged housewives getting together to drink wine and run down those who did not attend, or who were sitting far enough away at another table not to hear. Although still conservative, Petunia dressed much younger for this event. Her hairstyle was somewhat relaxed, not so old housewife severe. Something happened in Majorca, thought Harry.
"You look very nice, Aunt Petunia. I am sure the other women will be talking about you behind your back"
"Why thank you Harry! Do you really think so? It has been so long since I was the target of jealous conversation."
"I am sure that someone will take offense at how pretty and young you look today.", Harry was laying it on just a bit thick, but his Aunt did look good and he was sincere about that. He also knew how truly horrid most of the other women were from various parties, book clubs and wine tasting events that Petunia had hosted over the years, and his years as waiter and butler at these events.
It must have registered as sincere to Petunia because she smiled and squeezed his shoulder.
"I will be home around 4 p.m. Vernon will be eating in the city. It is you and I tonight again." Petunia looked sad and wistful for a moment. She tried to brighten up with a tight smile. " We will make the best of it, won't we Harry?"
"You will find money on the counter for supper shopping, and lunch in town, please do not stuff yourself on junk fast food."
"Won't, though I do fancy some fish and chips."
"Then stay away from Toddington's- their fish is fried much too oily."
After Petunia left, alone in the house, Harry took the freedom to roam the house, to fix himself a rum and coke, and to go upstairs to look through his Aunt Petunia's dresser drawers. He looked through her knickers and found that her tastes went from very pedestrian cotton grannies, to teeny tiny thong satin panties. He searched further and found what he knew she must have- a large latex phallus. She had it hid deep, in her pajama drawer. He found other sheer and naughty nighties. He could feel himself getting hard. But this was not really what he wanted, was it? He found her laundry hamper, he dumped it, and found the bikini bottoms she wore a couple of days before. He inspected the lining... it had the white dried crust of her cum all the inside. He sniffed them. He dared himself and he licked them too. He tasted her sweet saltiness. He was raging hard. He took her hand lotion off her nightstand and began to masturbate, right there where she and Vernon slept. He imagined her on her knees being face fucked by his boorish uncle. His uncle would slap her and then force her on all fours as he took his chubby cock and shoved it deep into her puss. He imagined her calling him, asking him to come here, to watch, to perhaps let her suck him while Vernon continued to pound her from behind... His cock jerked, jerked very hard, and he came atop her laundry. He continued with another large eruption and another, and as he tried to wipe himself dry with her underwear, it did not seem like he could stop. He stuffed her laundry back in its hamper. He would have to be sure to volunteer for laundry if she did not assign it tomorrow.
Harry finally headed out on foot to the village of Little Whinging. It was like any other small English village, old buildings in the heart of town, with some newer, uglier ones on the outskirts. He passed Stanton's Market. He remembered that it was there that he used to follow Petunia around, carrying her bags and pushing the cart while she shopped. He would buy most of dinner there. He would wait to buy the pasta in another little import shop that Petunia preferred. He believed she went there because it made her feel more cosmopolitan.
Harry was feeling peckish, so of course he headed to Toddington's. He bought a double order of chips with the fish special and a cherry pop. He stood at a counter in the corner, his ear buds in, listening to the Damned, eating while he people-watched both those in shop, and those out on the pavement shopping or going about their business.
He heard an, "Oy!" then a tap on the shoulder. He turned around, it one of Dudley's mates, Clive Evans. He was an alright bloke, kind of went along with the crowd, but never had he been abusive directly to Harry or ever egged Dudley on to torment Harry. He was dark haired with a short cut, like most of the boys in this part of the country. Unlike most boys, Clive was tall and gangly, and had on his signature black leather jacket about two sizes too big for him. It was a hand down from his oldest brother who was killed in Afghanistan. He had a nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth and was self-conscious of it. He would move his hand to his mouth often.
"Hey Potter! Back for the summer, eh?"
Harry pulled out his ear buds., "Oh, Hey Clive! Yeah. So, how's it been?"
"Call me Cee-Live. People know me by my nickname"
"Okay Cee-Live, how's it going?"
"Bloody fucking slow without the D-Dog. The other mates all got jobs or are working for their dads, been kinda dull, y'know?"
"Yeah, I do. Quiet at the house."
"No doubt, without the D-Dog! So, what are you doing in the village? You usually stick close to the house."
"Just bumming around and then shopping for supper.", Harry held up the list from Petunia in his hand. "Aunt Petunia is at Bridge today."
"So is my mum. Hey- did you know that we are distantly related? On me dad's side... second cousins or some such shit. Your mum was Petunia's sister, right?"
"Yeah. an Evans. Hum. Did not think of that! " Harry said genuinely interested in the such an odd connection. "So, are you working, or are you just a bum like me?", Harry asked tentatively. He hoped he didn't sound like bloke desperate for someone to talk to.
"A bit of both. Got me own business on the sly, if you know what I mean..."
"So, it's secret?"
" Nah, just - just discreet. I sell ganja, dude." He said in a low voice.
"Yeah... isn't that dangerous?"
"Not really. Well a little. I just make sure that I know who I am selling to, and I keep off the radar of the local constable."
"Uhm, do you have any?" Harry's heart was racing a little. He had only smoked pot a couple of times; Neville had brought some back to Gryffindor after Christmas last year. In fact, Neville was raising some plants in the greenhouse at Hogwarts. Professor Sprout was okay with it. She said the herb was good for eye pressure and headaches. Harry decided he liked being stoned, but it got them terribly hungry, and annoyed the house elves when they went looking for a midnight snack in the kitchen under his cloak of invisibility. Because of his connection with Dobby, Harry and his friends were not reported. Harry considered this opportunity.
He was bored and hiding in the suburbs, and he was feeling terribly alone. Perhaps a bit of pot would be a fun way to kill some time.
"What- you want to buy some?"
"Uhm, yeah. How much do you got?"
"Why don't we talk elsewhere. You done with your fish and chips?"
"Uhm, pretty much, I guess."
"Do you mind if I grab some of your chips then?"
"No- no, help yourself" Harry offered him the bag. Clive took it and started pulling out the strings of potato and munching them contentedly as he walked away from the table.
"Mmmm, nice amount of salt and vinegar. Let's go. "
Harry grabbed an uneaten piece of fish, wrapping the rest into the paper and tossing it into the rubbish bin. He bit into the fish and followed 'Cee-Live' out of the shop.
Clive and Harry walked a bit with Clive finishing everything in the bag. They ended up at the park near the east end of town. It was quiet, and no one was around. They found a bench and plopped down. Clive pulled out a clear plastic bag filled with gold and green marijuana. Little purple threads ran through the sticky buds. He took out a small bud and crushed it into a small pipe he pulled out of the top of his Doc Martens boot. "Uhm, do you want to sample some? I don't want you thinking I am going to rip you off. You buy from the bag you sample with me. "
"Uhm, sure. just a bit. I don't need much."
"Pretty new eh? Nothing wrong with that."
Clive lit the pipe, pulled a draw and passed it over to Harry. Harry took a good draw. He knew enough to hold it in, and exhale slowly. He choked just a bit, but it did not result in a coughing fit.
"Pretty expansive, eh? Not a bad taste though, huh? It will get you pretty stoned on not much. I would not recommend more than another hit for a newbie." Clive took another hit, then gave the pipe back to Harry. Harry once again took another significant draw off the pipe. He could already feel a numb tingling and floating feeling entering his neck and shoulders and head.
"Nice. so how much is in the bag?"
"This, this is about thirty grams, give or take."
"How much do you want for it?"
"150 quid. Do you got that much, or do we need to go for half?"
"No, I think I got that covered... I stopped at Gringotts... my bank in London before I came home. I cashed in some of my leftover gold for paper money."
"Dude, left over gold? What are you- some kind of gangstah?"
"Something like that. Never mind. 150, right?"
Harry pulled out three banknotes from several in his wallet and handed 150 pounds to 'Cee-Live', who handed him the bag of weed. "Well playah, enjoy my friend. See me anytime you need some more. Just don't go letting others know where you go it. If you want me to sell to your friends, they buy through you, got it dude?"
"Sure. no problem. "
So, it is just you at home all summer with 'Tune-ya', huh? I wouldn't mind that. She is a pretty fit MILF. I know she's kind of bitch, and your aunt, but I would be hittin' that hard, gee. Real HARD. Mmmm, boy, maybe I ought to come around huh?" Clive laughed. Harry laughed half- heartedly with him, remembering how he had just come all over his Aunt's already worn knickers and bras. He thought he should change the subject before he said something incriminating.
So, what 's up next?"
"Me? I gotta bounce. Go home and pick up some more ganja and head over to Samson's. He gets off work soon and is looking to score. You? I suggest you put that bag away immediately, either in your sock or shorts, and then put your ear buds back on and enjoy the day for a bit before you try to manage your shopping trip. "
Harry quickly shoved the bag into his front pocket, as he was holding onto it in plain sight in his hand, and a woman was approaching them.
"Do you have a pipe?" Clive asked
"No... not right now."
"You can find one behind the books in Dudley's room... third shelf."
'No, thank you sir, and thank you for your business.", and in a falsetto voice he ended with, "Latah, Playah!"
"See you Cuz! "Harry replied. A goofy grin on his face.
"Ha! I be likin' that one! ", Clive chuckled as he walked back towards downtown.
Harry followed his third cousin now removed's suggestion to sit back and enjoy some music and ride out what was a very strong stoning going on currently. He sat for an hour and then decided to walk around the park a bit then head back to downtown. He checked his watch. He had plenty of time to be home before four.
He stopped at a used book shop and found a muggle book on wizards called "The Hobbit" he thought it would be a lark to read and bought it. He found he was again hungry and thirsty. He stopped at the sweets shop and got a small bowl of berry and chocolate gelato. He chatted the girl at the counter, who seemed receptive to his heavily stoned charms. She gave her telephone number and name on the receipt.
He stopped at Europa," purveyor of fine cuisine imports", and picked up the Italian hand-made vermicelli bagged with a red white and green bow and five times expensive as the pasta found on the shelves at Stanton's.
Harry finally made it to Stanton's Market, still very stoned, but with a high level of management. He found the things on the list along with some fresh basil. He did not get the canned tomatoes but instead bought a couple of pounds of fresh, very ripe Roma tomatoes. He would surprise his Aunt and start dinner early by making a fresh homemade sauce. This is something he was taught by Professor Cuoco in their third year, in Domestic Arts class. He would have to do it without the benefit of his wand or cauldron, but thought he could get by, since he earned high marks in the class, just doing what he had done every day at the Dursleys. He found a fresh Italian sausage at the butcher counter and some fennel, and replaced the chicken that Petunia had on her list.
He made it home at 3:30 with two separate purposes in mind, to start the laundry of unmentionables from the household, and to get started on the slow cook of his sauce.
Petunia came home from Bridge at 4:30 p.m. rather high. Her neighbor, Mrs. Edward VonDunderson, had driven them and she was in not much better shape. She entered, rather loud and giddy to the smell of something wonderfully aromatic cooking, and of Harry in the laundry room transferring the family's knickers to the dryer. She had to direct him which of her bras were to be hung dried, and which could go the dryer. She teased him, by holding up her knickers and asking him which ones he liked. Harry turned only five shades of red, and then joined the joking by picking out a pair of granny panties. They both had a good laugh.
Petunia, right there in the laundry room with Harry, pulled her blouse out of her skirt, and undid the bottom two buttons. She reached back with one hand and unclasped her bra, and then shrugged it off her shoulders and pulled it through the bottom of her blouse. She handed it to Harry, and said, " Here nephew, put this in the next wash please." She then reached under full skirt and undid the tiny knickers that tied at the sides, revealing only a bit of upper thigh, and pulled them off. They were very wet, and she placed them directly into Harry's palm. "Oh, and these too, please." There, I feel much comfier. Can I help with dinner, or would you mind if I relaxed and watched the afternoon shows for a bit?"
Harry still stoned, was slow to respond, and did not realize that he was fingering his Aunt's wet panties in his hands. "No, no that would be fine to relax a bit, Auntie, I got this covered."
Petunia looked down at his hands as his thumb and forefinger were rubbing the crotch of her knickers, and responded, "Yes, I can see that." She adjusted her breasts in front of him and tucked in her blouse tighter. Her gum drop nipples were pressing hard against the linen material. She smoothed her skirt, taking time to run her hands over her hips and round rump. Harry gulped, and tried to talk his penis down in his mind.
The teasing continued, through supper, which Harry enjoyed immensely, even though he was not sure if it was cock-teasing or not, but his penis was pretty sure it was. Conversation consisted of Petunia relaying the events and conversations in detail from Bridge. Harry was glad he was stoned and could nod and follow along to the minutia of detail. She asked him what he did for the day and in short and very vague terms told her that he had fish and chips, enjoyed the park for a while, and then shopped at a bookstore and for supper. Oh, and by the way he ran into Dudley's mate, Clive Evans, he said to say hello, -and that he mentioned that they were related.
"Oh yes, very distant. Going back to the brothers that were our great, great uncles or something like that. His father is interested in genealogy and heard that my maiden name was Evans. His wife, Eva, yes, Eva Evans! inquired about my relations in bridge and he was able to figure out that we were indeed related. But this is England after all, and not that terribly big, so it is not hard to believe that most folks with the same surname are related in some way, don't you think?" Petunia poured Harry another glass of wine.
" I could see that. I found out that there is a Potter in this last year's first years that is related to my dad's family on the side of my great grandfather's brother. The boy's name is William. Bit of a tosser though."
Petunia laughed, perhaps a bit too hard at Harry's comment. Harry knew that she thought his dad was a bit of a tosser. He got a bit defensive. The anger welled in him quickly. He did not know how to control it.
"Not all Potters are tossers you know! "He shouted at his Aunt. He stood and threw down his napkin and stormed from the dining area and up the stairs. Petunia was taken aback. She did not know what to say until it was too late, and it came out much harsher than she meant it.
"Damn it, come back here Harry Potter! Come back this instance!" She heard his door slam. It was too late. "Please come back." She said quietly. She drank the rest of her wine in silence, and then quietly cleaned the dishes from the table. She went to bed early with a headache. She did not hear Vernon come in at three in the morning.