The Journey

9. Forgiveness

Petunia Dursley hadn't seen her sister's friend in years.  Severus Snape.  She hadn't expected her nephew to bring company with him to collect his things, but she supposed she would have to allow it.  Her letter to him stated that she wanted to put the past behind them.  And if inviting Snape into her home to do it, then she would.  But she would never like the man, no matter what her mood, or the circumstances in which he came to be here.  

She was a very nosy person, and thrived on gossip, so she concluded that she would be getting the story later from Harry himself.  If she persisted, then he would have to tell her surely?  Clearing his throat to take her out of her reverie, Snape just looked at her in that disgusted way he usually reserved for Gryffindors.  Seeing his impatience, she opened the door, and asked them inside.

Snape entered first, and had to look back to see if Potter was following him.  But Harry was frozen stiff in the small passage that led to their lounge.  His eyes were feasted on a small door just left of, and underneath a staircase.  Snape followed his gaze, and his eyes widened.  Surely this was not the cupboard that Potter had spoken of?  Had this been his room until he turned eleven?  Merlin, his shoe cupboard was bigger than that!  Hoping against all hope that what he was thinking wasn't actually true, he simply said, "Potter", in the hopes that Harry would not lose his shit anytime soon.

After another three times at calling him, Harry realized he had been staring.  Coughing into his hand, he apologized.  Looking at his potions master, he whispered, "Sorry", after seeing the shocked look on his face.  They both stepped into the lounge, and waited for her to offer them a seat.  Call it bravery, call it stupidity, call it being a snob, call it what you want, but they were going to enjoy see her squirm.  Well, Snape was at least.  He wasn't sure about Potter.

Harry remembered the last time he had been in this particular room.  It had been when they had left before the war, pleading them to go with the ministry officials because Voldemort would find them and he would kill them.  They had eventually relented, packed up and left.  Not even a goodbye.  At the time Harry thought he hadn't been worth any words from them, but now he was going to have his say, he hoped, and he wanted them to talk back.  He wanted to know why they had done to him what they had.  What had motivated them to hate their own flesh and blood, because if the roles had been reversed, he knew his mother would have taken Dudley in as her own.  She would have loved him totally and completely.

"Please, sit down", said Petunia timidly.

They both took a seat next to each other, and before Harry could ask where Dudley was, he too entered the room.  He looked defeated.  He looked drained and unhappy, but almost relieved in a way.  He stood up just as Dudley offered his hand to him.  Taking it he simply said, "Big D", in greeting.  Dudley pursed his lips in greeting, and took a seat opposite his cousin.  Harry then introduced Snape to him, although they never shook hands, it was what they both wanted.  

"Dudley, come and help with the tea tray please", asked his mother from the kitchen.  He left to go and help her, and Harry turned his gaze to a box on the floor.  

"Thank you for coming", said Petunia when she returned.  She started speaking about her husband as if she were talking to a friend who would be there for her in her darkest hour.

"Vernon had a stroke about five months ago, while he was at work.  The doctor never said what caused it,  he just simply never recovered", said his aunt.  "He was confined to a wheelchair, and eventually lost his ability to talk, walk, and feed himself, but I suppose on the bright side, he can't feel anymore pain", she said, her voice shaking.

Harry stayed quiet.  He didn't want to offer his condolences, because in truth, he wasn't sorry.  He wasn't the kind of man who would laugh at another's pain, but he sure as hell wasn't going to say sorry.  Harry didn't know what to feel.  He hated death and what it did to the people who were left behind, but he couldn't find it in his heart to feel any sorrow.  He kept digging around in his head and his heart, trying to find some sort of feelings to associate with them losing their precious Vernon, and the only thing that he could come up with was disgust and hatred.