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Wednesday December 3, 2008, before Harry left for work, he got a call from Dudley. “My dad just died, we suspect of a massive heart attack,” said Dudley. “He died last night.”

“I’m sorry,” said Harry, wondering if he really was sorry.

“Yea,” said Dudley. “He felt terrible and refused to go to the hospital. He went upstairs to the bedroom, and when my mother got up there a couple of hours later he was dead. You are his closest living relative, other than mum and me. Well, Aunt Marge Dursley, his sister. His business partners were really second cousins, and not that close to us. I do not really know any of their children, and I don’t think any of the children will come to the funeral. I would like you with me when we meet people a couple of days from now.”

“Just me or the family?” asked Harry.

“I would like to see your family there,” said Dudley. “These types of affairs are about family after all, and you are the closest family I have.”

“Not Aunt Marge?” asked Harry.

“I guess someone will have to tell her,” Dudley said. There was a pause and Harry could hear a big sigh. “I guess we are going to have to put up with her at the funeral. It is her brother, after all.”

“I’ll clear the next days and help you, Dudders,” said Harry.

“I would really appreciate that,” said Dudley. “There is apparently a fair amount to do.”

Harry called his office. Mary Lou was already there, and Harry told her that his uncle had died, and he was going to be spending much of the next four days helping his cousin and aunt.

Harry then went and found Ginny, who was getting the three children ready to go to school. Al usually went next door until about noon, when Jean took the children over to the New Burrow so they could play with their cousins. Getting permission for Jean to use the floo network, and then arraigning the magic so she could, was another exercise that blurred the lines between the magic and Muggle world, something that worried Hermione, even as she was one of the main facilitators in blurring the lines. Ginny usually took the other two over to the New Burrow between 8:30 and 9:00 AM for lessons for James.

Harry went back upstairs just as Ginny was finishing getting the three children dressed in their coats. They were going to let Al go out the front door and run over to Roses house, and when he was inside Ginny (and Mitzi), James and Lily would go to the kitchen and take the floo to the New Burrow. Before Al had time to leave Harry told Ginny, “Vernon Dursley died last night.”

Ginny said, “I should be sorry he’s dead? He’s the one who locked you in the closet under the stairs. He was a mean man.”

“He was still Dudley’s dad,” said Harry. “I’m going to be helping Dudley and Aunt Petunia, my mother’s sister. Dudley wants the whole family at the funeral, if we will come.”

“I’ll come for you, and for your mother,” said Ginny. “Oh, I like Dudley. I’ll come for him too. Do we need to get new Muggle clothes for this?”

“We probably ought to get little dark suits for the boys” said Harry. “They’ll look cute dressed up like little Muggle bankers.”

“Your job,” said Ginny. “Out the door, Al.” Albus went out the door, and took the familiar path down his front steps and up the front steps to where Rose and Jean were waiting.

At 10:00 AM Harry was at the funeral home. The family had to pick out a casket for Vernon. He had let it be known that he did not believe in cremation or any of this scattering of ashes. He wanted to be buried in a casket like his parents and grandparents before him. Of course finding a casket big enough was not easy, but the funeral home had photographs of ones that they could have by the weekend.

Then they had to figure out just how many people were going to come. There was not really going to be any kind of religious service. Vernon hated anything to do with religion. The original plan was to have visiting from 2:00 to 4:00 PM on Saturday, and then just the immediate family was going to go to the cemetery to plant Vernon. Dudley and Belinda were going to have a few people over to their house after.

Harry quickly realized that he was going to have to deal with security. He and his family were going to be in unfamiliar Muggle space.

Dudley and Belinda pointed out that there were only about forty people who worked for Grunnings, most of whom would come, but there were over two hundred people who worked in the other divisions of Dursley Potter & Weasley, not counting goblins and elves.

For someone who had to deal with as much death as Harry, this was something he had never dealt with, a large Muggle funeral service. Hugo Granger’s funeral was the only Muggle funeral he had ever attended, and there were not all that many people there, and there was no publicity linking Harry Potter to Hugo Granger. All of the Muggle born people killed at the battle of Hogwarts were buried while Harry was still at Hogwarts and otherwise totally tied up with urgent tasks right after the battle.

Petunia was in shock. Maybe she should have been prepared for Vernon’s death; he was grossly overweight and his father and grandfather had died early, but the reality of it was still overwhelming to her, and it fell to Dudley and Belinda, and Harry, to plan the funeral service.

Belinda went back to DPW to see if she could get some idea how many people would come to the funeral home. Dudley took his mother back home. Harry went to see Bill Weasley.

“Bill,” said Harry. “Do you know what to do at a Muggle funeral?”

“You’ve asked the wrong person, Harry” said Bill. “Since we started DPW I have been more involved in the Muggle world, but a funeral is something new. I suppose the whole Weasley family ought to make at least a token appearance, though.”

“I suppose so,” said Harry, “but security is going to be tough enough without trying to keep track of all twelve of Arthur and Molly’s grandchildren.”

“Maybe we could come and be gone before the general public,” said Bill.

“I need to talk to Kingsley and my staff,” said Harry. “This is more difficult than I thought.” Harry went back to the Ministry called his staff together. After talking to his staff he met with Kingsley. Before they were done Harry found out that this was a great more difficult than he had hoped.

Thursday Harry met again with Dudley and Belinda. They agreed to have a “magical family only” time between 1:00 PM and 2:00 PM, with the official visitation starting at 2:00 PM until 4:00 PM. At 3:45 Dudley was going to say a few words about his father. The problem with planning a memorial service was that the best any could think to say about Vernon was that he knew his drills. Technically he was very good, but in just about every other way he was a rather miserable example of a human. Dudley said at one meeting that, “The trouble about finding nice things to say about dad is that he wasn’t a very nice man.”

Belinda asked around to see if anyone could remember when at Grunnings Vernon had done anything nice to help one of the employees. No one could remember any incident of niceness that was anything but doing what was expected, and no more.

Harry and Ginny met for lunch at a Muggle restaurant that their guards could secure. Harry said, “I always knew that Vernon was a bastard to me. I’m just sorry for Dudley and Petunia that he seems to have been a bastard to everybody. How do you say something nice about someone who has never been nice?”

“Does Petunia have any nice things to say about Vernon?” Ginny asked. “She married him. He must have been nice to her.’

“There wasn’t a lot of love in that house,” Harry said. “In some ways all the things they gave Dudley were bribes, trying to make up for lack of love. I think Petunia tried to love Dudley, but instead of emotional comfort she gave him food and things. In some ways what little attention Vernon gave Dudley was directed as much at making me feel bad as it was at really caring about Dudley. It was a pretty dysfunctional family.”

“I’m sorry for you, and I guess Dudley too,” Ginny said. “I don’t know how to feel about Petunia.”

“I don’t either,” Harry said. Harry and Ginny spent the better part of an hour talking about family. As they were getting ready to go Ginny got that combination of snarky and sexy look that Harry knew so well, and said, “I have an hour free. If you are free there is a bedroom back at Grimmauld Place that we could use.”

“You want to do it three times today?” Harry asked.

“I have a reputation to uphold,” Ginny said. “Sexy Ginny Potter gets it a lot, but not near as often as some people think.”

“With three children and busy jobs we do very well. I am delighted having to keep up with sexy Ginny Potter,” Harry said.

Thursday afternoon Aunt Marge Dursley showed up, furious that she was not the first notified, announcing her intention of, “Staying with Petunia until Sunday, at least.”

Thursday evening before dinner Belinda asked if she could come over. Everybody was in the kitchen getting ready for supper, and Belinda said to Harry and Ginny, “I don’t know what we are going to do with Aunt Marge. She is every bit as against our world as her brother, but if she sticks with Petunia she will see the whole parade of witches and wizards between 1:00 PM and 2:00 PM, and if she comes over to our house after the burial there will be goblins and elves present. What will we do?”

Harry said, “Memory management.”

Belinda said, “That’s fine after the fact, but do you have any idea how bad she can be in the meantime.”

Harry said, “I was the subject of her attacks for years, Belinda. I think the only person in the Muggle world who hated me more than Vernon was Aunt Marge. What can we do? It’s her brother.”

Belinda gave Harry a very frustrated look and left.

Teddy asked, “What’s a funeral?”

Harry answered, “It’s when someone dies, and everybody gets together to remember them, and then they put them in a grave.”

“Did my mummy and daddy have a funeral?” asked Teddy.

“Yes, Teddy. I was at your mummy and daddy’s funeral,” said Harry. “It was very sad.”

“Who is going to be at this funeral?” asked Teddy.

“All the cousins are going to be there for a little while, but just mummy Ginny and I and our children are going to stay,” said Harry.

“Am I one of your children?” asked Teddy.

“Of course, you are, Teddy!” Harry said. “Do you want to come with us to the funeral?”

Teddy nodded yes. No one said anything for a brief time, and then Teddy said, “I would like to be with you.”

Friday morning Harry had to go to work, but he promised Ginny that he would take the boys shopping for suits in the afternoon.

Harry went to the Ministry for another meeting with Kingsley and couple of top aids. “I’m worried,” said Harry. “I saw an announcement of the funeral in this morning’s Daily Prophet. It included the fact that there was going to be a family by invitation only greeting from 1:00 to 2:00 PM, followed by an open visiting from 2:00 to 4:00 PM. Any dark wizard will be able to plan when they want to appear. The funeral home is in a totally Muggle neighborhood, and I am worried about defending it.”

“There was an obituary in the Muggle press as well,” Kingsley said. “You were listed as one of the survivors, Sir Harry James Potter-Black, O.B.E.”

“Oh great, more notoriety,” Harry said.

“Can we at least put anti-apparition spells around the funeral home and protect the perimeter?” asked Kingsley.

“I was going to ask for four Aurors, and I still will have four on the inside, plus Dobedo, but I would like a couple more on the outside maintaining security,” said Harry.

Kingsley agreed to the plan, and he was going to come to the funeral home as well. If there was any trouble plenty of DMLE witches, wizards, and elves were prepared to apparate to the funeral home.

Ginny told the family that Harry was going to get the boys suits. Fleur was horrified. “Arry does not care how he looks!” said Fleur. “Go with him!”

“What should I wear?” asked Ginny.

“I will go with you,” said Fleur. “We will change the color of one of your dresses.” The rest of the family looked after the children, and Ginny, Lily and Fleur went back to 12 Grimmauld Place, where they found a good dress, modest but with slits for nursing, that they changed to black for the funeral. Lily was going to be wearing a very pretty pink dress.

That afternoon Ginny accompanied Harry and the 3 boys as they shopped for suits. They found 4 matching suits, well almost matching but with some magic they made them all match, black with a very subtle stripe, white shirts, fashionable ties. Friday night Teddy ate dinner with the Potters, and when it was time for the boys to go to bed he slept in his bedroom on “the boys’ floor.”

Arthur Weasley woke up the morning of the funeral, and saw that as usual Molly was also waking up. There was really nothing scheduled until the visiting for Vernon Dursley that afternoon. He reached for his wand and did the quick little spell that gave him and Molly fresh breath, having no idea how delightful that little bit of magic would have been to most Muggle couples, and did a quick shaving spell as well. Because they had time he took off his pajama top and rolled over to lie against Molly, his fantastic, sexy, and still beautiful despite her weight Molly. She had lost a lot of the excess weight the last few years, and was really looking good! As he pulled up her nightgown and ran his hands down her back and over her hips and bum he marveled at how that rounded, feminine shape could still excite him. They opened their mouths and started exchanging the lover’s kisses that had been a stable of their relationship for all those years.

Molly saw Arthur waking up and did the little spell that gave her and Arthur fresh breath. She thought of Petunia Dursley, without a husband to hold her and make love to her, and was immensely glad that she still had Arthur. She saw that he had taken off his pajama top and got a warm feeling; it was going to be a good morning. As he lie against her she could feel him go for her bottom, just the back side for now, and just enjoyed him feeling her.

Molly’s stomach was sort of in the way, but the children had been encouraging her to lose weight, and she had made progress. The breasts were smaller, but she had always been sort of busty, and she still had a nice pair to push against Arthur’s chest, something that felt good and sexy to both of them. She put a hand down into his pajama bottom and felt his bum. She always enjoyed feeling Arthur, and not just the front. His bottom was cute and nice to hold.

Molly relaxed in the safety and comfort of Arthur’s arms.

A short time later she started to pull Arthur’s pajama bottoms off, knowing after years of sleeping together and love-making that he would finish the job. As Arthur took off his bottoms she was removing the night gown. They went back to holding, naked now. Arthur was feeling her femininity, and Molly was feeling his masculinity.

Eventually Molly rolled over on her back. Arthur did a spell for endurance, and Molly did one for enjoyment and one that gave her more of the lubrication that you lost as you got older. All these little care that you took to give your partner the most enjoyment possible.

Arthur was sucking on her breasts. ‘No milk there now,’ thought Molly. It was enjoyable nursing a baby, but when she was nursing and Arthur was, well, she told him there was no reason to stop just because she was nursing. They just needed to be careful when they did it. Right after you nursed and the baby was sleeping was best.

How many of her daughter-in-laws had let their husbands at their breasts when they were nursing? Ginny had; she and Molly had talked about it. Molly was pretty sure all her daughter-in-laws had, except for Audrey. Bodies were fantastic things, if you were not ashamed to enjoy them.

Arthur was gently touching that part of her that got her beyond pleasure.

It was working.


Arthur was sucking on those marvelous breasts, those breasts that nursed all those children, those breasts that were just so enjoyable to touch, especially when he touched her and sucked on her and saw her get more and more turned on. He gently went down to that other part of her that REALLY turned her on.

He waited until he could tell she was way beyond ready, and then.

It seemed to be working. He could tell that she was beyond excitement, and using all the self-control he could muster, plus the spells, he kept at it until Molly’s intense excitement died down. Oh, he had gotten a lot of pleasure out of the sex act, but Molly was beyond enjoyment.

It felt really good to give Molly that kind of pleasure.

They stayed coupled together after.

“I hope Vernon and Petunia enjoyed moments like this,” Arthur said.

“I hope every married couple enjoys moments like this,” Molly said. They were a couple, coupled together in a physical way, but that physical coupling just a symbol of the deeper coupling of the hearts and souls of two people, two people but one marriage, one couple.

Bill looked at Fleur coming out from the Loo. There was a lot magical about a Veela, but she still had to use the loo.

Somehow every time a friend or acquaintance lost a spouse it touched them deeply. The house elves were taking care of the children this morning so they could have a little lie in and just celebrate their marriage in that marvelous physical way that couples were blessed to enjoy.

Fleur was just beautiful! Bill hoped people could see that her mind and heart were just as beautiful as that incredible Veela body. Perfect face, incredible hair, the most winning and loving smile. Two breasts that were, just spectacular. Not small, but not overwhelming large. There was some Veela magic kept them firm, high, and young looking even after three children. Bill had seen Fleur’s Veela grandmother, her breasts, her body, still young looking. Somehow the Veela magic brought her body back to the way it was before children after each pregnancy, not that he would not have loved her, anyway. The tummy, the hips, the legs, everything was as perfect as it could be.

Men who didn’t know focused on the body; that was the least important of the Veela magic. He could smell the perfume, and he knew she has done the magic, the spells, that would increase their pleasure. He had done the spells a man needed to do as well. Veela magic made it easy to love Fleur, but just to love the body was a hollow thing. The bible talked about sex as ‘knowing’ your spouse. It was knowing that Fleur was just as beautiful inside, loving, giving, smart, as outside, that made ‘knowing’ her, loving her, so fantastic.

Bill knew that he would get pleasure out of the sex act, but the thing he never talked about was how much pleasure Fleur got out of their physical coupling. She had told him that it was similar to the pleasure that most women experienced, but maybe an order of magnitude more. There was some magic too, that made her overwhelming pleasure somehow flow back into him, and he could feel at least a little of what she felt, almost as if it were Legilimency.

Bill felt his face. He was really hard to look at, and despite this he was married to one of the most beautiful and sexy women in the world. How did he get so lucky! What a blessing.

Fleur came out of the loo and looked at her fantastic husband. She knew, after talking with the group of Veela that she knew, that it took a patient and loving husband to give her the pleasure she experienced. A couple of her Veela acquaintances had rather brutish husbands, and although they put up with sex, it was hardly loving.

When she was raped she thought her life was ruined, and she could never love a man again, or let a man near her body. But Bill was so patient, so willing to understanding what she was going through.

Some people called her a hero for marrying Bill, despite his scarred face. His face was just a surface thing. He had saved her life, given her a life back again, and here she was married to the most beautiful man inside where it really counted, with three beautiful children.

She would gladly spend the rest of her life trying to give Bill as much pleasure as she could. Love making was just that, a loving sharing of their bodies, and their lives. And when Bill patiently made love to her, used her body in all the ways she taught him, she felt like no words would ever describe her ecstasy, and what made the ecstasy even better was that she could project back into Bill at least a little of it, something that gave both of them great joy.

How did she get so lucky, so blessed?

She hoped that Petunia had experienced at least a little of the type of joy that Bill had given her.

Percy looked at Audrey coming out of the loo, dressed. That was their routine; first one of them would go to the loo so they could dress in private, then the other one. He would get dressed, and they would get the girls up.

Tonight, most Saturday nights except for her monthly period, he would take a shower, put on his pajamas, and go to the bed they shared. He would take the pajamas off under the bed and wait. Audrey would shower, come into the bedroom with her pajamas on, and get into bed. She would take off her pajamas under the covers too.

They would kiss and eventually make love. He tried to be patient, and she had gone from being really uptight to at least somewhat relaxing.

They did love each other. They did kiss and hold each other even when they were not having their weekly encounter. Percy knew that his parents and, he thought, Audrey’s father were glad that they were affectionate. They shared much more, too. He and Audrey were partners, sharing goals, sharing raising their daughters. He thought briefly about the visiting they were going to. He guessed that Petunia was going to miss the kissing, the holding, the physical and mental things you did as a couple.

Audrey’s mother was a case, though. She had voiced her horror at the thought that Audrey was still letting “that man” into her body. No wonder Audrey was so shy about sex. Percy felt sorry for his father-in-law. Audrey’s father had to be living a celibate life, and he could not ever remember Audrey’s mother being affectionate to anyone.

“Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Cuckoo,
Wake up, George, Angelina.”

“Stupid clock,” a groggy George Weasley said.


“I hear you! Who charmed you to be so bloody cheerful in the morning?”

“You did, George. ‘Weasley’s Wonderful Wake-up Wonders, the best of an old world Cuckoo Clock with the refreshing wake up calls we custom charm for you. Wake-up calls can be changed for a modest additional fee.’

“You haven’t charmed me off yet, George.

“Cuckoo, Cuckoo, CUCKOO!”

“Off, you blasted clock,” George said as he waved his wand at the Cuckoo Clock.

“Touchy, touchy,” the little bird said as it went back into the clock.

“Good Morning, George,” Angelina said.

“I hate funerals,” George said. “I don’t care if the world is better off without old man Dursley, I still hate funerals. I’m going to be in a grumpy mood all morning!”

Angelina took off her nightgown and stretched out on the bed, spread her legs, showing just about as much of her front as she could.

George laughed. “Damn it’s hard to stay grumpy when your beautiful body is tempting me. You know I’m no good at resisting temptation, not this kind anyway.”

“I’m horny myself, Georgie Porgy, even after last night, but we’re going to have to get up.” She then started singing, “Tonight, tonight, you’re shagging me senseless tonight, and tonight you’re going to sleep bloody exhausted.”

“Damn Muggle Musicals,” a laughing George said as he kissed his wife, and then headed to the loo, in much better spirits.

‘That’s better,’ thought Angelina. ‘I’ve got to stop the moodiness before it gets too bad. Merlin I love that man!”

Hermione thanked Winky, the house elf that was helping her take care of Hugo, and put Hugo on her breast. Ron gladly volunteered to change nappies at night, just like Harry and Bill, but when Ron was sleeping it was easier transforming a pig into a princess than trying to wake him up. So, much to her surprise, but to the delight of the house elves, she had house elf help.

Hermione looked at her small breasts; unlike Fleur and Ginny, who noticeably swelled when they were pregnant, she didn’t think she added more than a millimeter to her modest bust. The same could not be said for her waist and hips; she was just a little heavier and more middle aged motherly. Ron didn’t mind. Everybody talked about her lists, but Ron seemed to be developing a list of things he loved about her, and that list included body parts. Intimate body parts.

Ron was astounded by all the names for sexual parts and positions. He was eager to try them all, and their getting good at everything was, as Ron would say, the best homework assignment ever, except when she got too carried away with learning. If she got too upset, too focused on trying something new, too frustrated to enjoy herself, Ron would jump in with “Sod the new position, sexy wife. This is supposed to be FUN!”

She was so lucky. Tall, lanky, handsome, funny, self-depreciating and not always serious Ron Weasley was perfect for her.

Hermione wondered how Vernon and Petunia did it. He was so big! Maybe woman on top? Could they still do it as he got heavy? Hermione knew that excess weight could interfere with your love life. Maybe Vernon was as unpleasant to Petunia as he was to everybody else.

Ron was waking up. He was looking at her. She slid the nightgown off so he could see the other breast, and waited for him to say, “Bloody beautiful.” She wondered what his next words would be. With Ron you never knew, one of the delights of being married to him.

Ron woke up to the slurping of Hugo nursing. Hugo wasn’t the quietest feeder. Hugo wasn’t much of a quiet anything, unlike his Rose. Hermione was a little reluctant to get pregnant, and then after that first miscarriage she was panicky at the thought that she could not carry a baby. And now they had two, a girl and a boy, and Ron was satisfied.

He saw her slip off the nightgown, showing off her shape. “Bloody beautiful!” Ron knew Hermione would slip off the nightgown and smile that sexy, come hither smile at Ron. Ron knew that Hermione knew what he would say, too.

“How in the world did Vernon and Petunia do it, Hermione? We have done it all sorts of ways, and, when you were in your last months with both Rose and Hugo, the baby sort of got in the way, but he is just way way WAY bigger than you ever were.”

“I have no idea, Ron,” Hermione said, laughing. “I was just thinking the same thing.” As she laughed Hugo let go of her breast and looked at both parents. Hugo smiled a milky smile, and Ron took Hugo and started to pat him on the back.

“Time to wind you, little boy,” Ron said. “Then back to mum and that what only mum can give you. Meanwhile I can see both of them, and I have to say it’s just a delightful sight.”

“We’ve got time this morning, unlike last night, Ron.”

“If you’ve got the time, I’ve got the equipment,” Ron said.


“George says you are ruining me by giving me all these scientific Muggle terms for things. He almost lost his coffee when I said you were in your third trimester with Hugo. ‘She’s got a bun in the oven; she’s in a family way! Trimester, my god Ron she’s ruining you.’”

Hermione laughed. How she loved being married to Ron. You never knew what he would say. Ron and his whole crazy family.

He was a good lover too, not that she had anyone else to compare him too, but he sure made her feel good.

Ron and Hermione both thought, ‘Am I lucky.’

Harry woke up first; he almost always woke up first. After using the loo he went and got Lily Luna. He changed her nappy, which was just a little wet, and smiled at her as she woke up. “Lovely lady Lily Luna, lovely lady Lily Luna,” Harry sang as he brought her to Ginny.

Ginny woke up enough to put Lily on her breast. Harry had time this morning, and there was nothing sexier, or more paternal, than relishing in the sight of his beautiful wife feeding their daughter. Ginny said it was a pleasurable sensation. How did he get so lucky, marrying this fantastic woman? She felt bad because of the damage her Quidditch injuries had caused, but she was still the brave woman he fell in love with at Hogwarts and at the Burrow, that tough girl who would fight through anything.

Harry felt that deep down his image of marriage life, a good married life was Arthur and Molly. He really didn’t mind that Ginny looked more like Molly every day.

Wind the little one, and then back to Mum.

Not Hungry? Sleepy? OK, back to bed.


“Yes, Love?”

“We have a good hour before we have to get up.”

“I know. What do you want me to do?”

“Finish what Lily started, so I don’t leak all over when we make love, and then pretend that I used the Touch-of-Lust spell and RAVISH me!”

“Sexy Ginny Potter.”

“You’d better believe it! I can still shag,”

“That you can!”

Lying against Ginny, touching her all the places she loved to be touched, Harry hope Petunia and Vernon had at least some happy times early in their marriage. Harry couldn’t remember ever seeing them physically affectionate. Poor Petunia. Poor Dudley, with such poor role models.

How did he get to be so lucky?

As Ginny came down from the intense emotions of another incredible sexual climax, Harry had played with her body, knowing all the ways to excite her. He touched her empty breast, playing with the breast as it got firm, placing his other hand down between her legs at the spot that was the most sensitive and sensual, and then played with the other breast with his tongue as milk leaked out, driving her right into a climax, and when she had come down from that emptied the full breast, and then went into her and did ravish her, went at sex with just the right amount of speed and pressure and tenderness, moving against her and bring her into ecstasy over and over, as she rose up to meet him and pressed her body against his. Bodies were the most fantastic thing!

Ginny loved the touch of a mostly naked baby nursing. She loved it when all the children were in bed with Harry and her reading a story, everybody snuggled against everybody. Nothing, however, could compare with making love. The nursing would end, the children would grow up, but she knew her parents were still intimate, still enjoyed each other’s bodies. She could look forward to a lifetime of Harry making love to her.

Despite all her injuries, despite looking way too much like her mum and not the cute little girl Harry had married, despite all of it, Harry was still deeply in love with her, and she with him.

What kind of a love did Petunia have? Ginny didn’t think their last years were happy ones. She hoped that Petunia had some happy memories from early in their marriage to hold on to.

Ginny looked at Harry again, and smiled the most loving smile she could. The reality of being married to Harry Potter was so much better than her childhood dreams, despite her injuries, despite her scars, despite looking like her mum. How did she get so lucky?

Dudley Dursley woke up that morning with a sick feeling in his stomach. All the day before, he had gone to everybody who had known and worked with his father, looking for something nice to say about him.

He got anger.

He got bitterness.

He got scorn.

He had a lot of people saying they were very glad he had not been like his father. Dudley was told that he seemed much happier, and he was sure much nicer.

Harry Potter, who he had abused so much when they were children, Harry Potter and “those people” like him were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and the time they were in hiding and he had to go hungry, had to help find food and keep people safe, that was the first time he had really been happy.

Dudley felt guilty about the bad things he had done to Harry, and grateful that after all that Harry could forgive him and be his friend.

“What’s on your mind, Big D.?” Belinda asked.

Dudley said. “I just don’t know where Harry gets the, gets the just plain GOODNESS to be friends with me after all I did to him when we were growing up.”

“You’ve changed, Dudley,” Belinda said. “I know sometimes it’s hard for you, but you really are trying to be a good person.”

“I am curious to see if Mum will change now that Dad’s dead,” Dudley said. “Aunt Marge, she’ll never change. I’m sorry you have to put up with her.”

“I’m sorry I have to put up with her too, to be perfectly honest. I had to make at least some effort to put up with your father, especially since he was still working at Grunnings. Well, we didn’t feel we could start a family as long as your father was alive.”

“Any time, as far as I’m concerned. And we can have that big magical wedding in California you wanted, and Mum and Aunt Marge can come or stay home for as much as I care.”

“My Mother and I have already talked about a magical welding. And, as soon as I heard your father was dead I threw away the birth control potions.”

“You WHAT?”

“I threw away the birth control potions. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Bloody good show, my big Belinda, wife and friend. Your parents are good grandparents to your brother’s children, and ours will at least have one good set. So when can we start trying?”

“We’ve done a pretty good job of it over the last three days, but of course it will be some time before I know if anything took.”

“I survived being raised by that son-of-a-bitch; I guess I can survive burying him.

“You threw away the birth control potions as soon as you knew he was dead? Bloody good show.”

“I’m sorry, Dudley. I wish I could say that your dad was nicer, but he wasn’t and I’m sorry for you.”

“I love you, B.”

“I love you too, you know it, Dursley.”

Marge Dursley woke up the morning of the funeral mad at just about everybody. Petunia certainly didn’t act like she was going to miss Vernon, and after all he had done for her. Petunia never had to work outside the home. All she had to do was to let Vernon use her the way men used women until she was pregnant with Dudley, and then even that stopped.

When her mum described what men did to you she got sick thinking of it, and she never got over it. Boys wanted to touch your body, to put their lips on yours and their tongue in your mouth and touch all your body parts. If you got married and sometimes even if you were not married they wanted to put that thing into you. It made her sick. She had never put up with any of that. Oh, she’s kissed Dudley and she and Petunia had touched, sort of, but other than that shaking hands was the most she had ever done, and she wasn’t sure she always liked shaking hands.

Potter and that girl he married sure touched enough; it made her sick and mad at the same time. And Dudley, he ought to know better, but he and that Belinda girl were touching each other too. He thought Dudley was probably doing it to her too. MEN.

Dudley was getting thinner too, not nice and plump like Vernon. Not right being thin like manual laborers. Plus Dudley never wore a tie and suit to work. He had a work cloak he put on when he went out into the shop that said “Dudley” on it, not “Mr. Dursley” or even “Dudley Dursley” but just “Dudley” like the hired help. No sense of his position! He actually worked with the machines, got his hands dirty. That was for the help, not for an owner.

Harry Potter and his kind had ruined Dudley. Bunch of lying bastards all of them.

Petunia Dursley woke up the morning of the funeral after a fitful night of sleep. After years of putting up with Vernon’s snoring the quiet in the bedroom woke her up. She knew he was unhealthy, and needed to lose weight. She blamed herself for his death, even though if she tried to fix him healthful meals he yelled at her. He yelled at her a lot. He yelled at everybody. Vernon had not been a happy man.

The only family member representing the Dursley side of the family was Marge, and Harry and his witch wife and those three bratty little children were going to be representing Lily’s side of the family. Petunia couldn’t win. Not even when her husband died. Lily had won again. Petunia was very unhappy, and Marge Dursley was furious. Lily had won, and Marge, who wasn’t any nicer than Vernon, had been mad that, “That boy that your dear husband hated and his hateful little family were going to be there. If you had died Vernon wouldn’t let that trash anywhere near the funeral.”

Dudley had insisted that Harry be there. “If Harry isn’t welcome then Belinda and I won’t feel welcome either. They are my only family, my only cousin and his family, and they are friends besides.” Petunia knew she ought to be friendly with Harry, but she just couldn’t face him after all the horrible things they had done to him. She hated Harry for how guilty he made her feel.

Several neighbors and acquaintances had offered their sympathies on the death of her “loving husband.” One even talked about missing the kissing, the sex.

Petunia had read the women’s magazines about how wonderful sex was supposed to be. It was certainly never that way with Vernon. It felt more like rape, him taking his pleasure and not caring how she felt. After they were married kisses were just a way of saying that he wanted it that night. They had not had sex since she was pregnant with Dudley. He was already getting too fat, and she didn’t miss it. They got separate beds and she was free from him. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since they had kissed, but at least today she felt that the last loving kiss was, maybe on their honeymoon? Maybe, maybe, maybe he was always just using her.

Petunia didn’t know how she was going to say anything to anybody. She sort of knew Vernon knew his drills, and people respected him for that, but Petunia also knew people well enough to know the looks on the faces of people who worked for him when they saw him on the street. Nobody liked him. If people said nice things about him she was going to know they were lying. Dudley had tried to find some charity, some nice things, that Vernon had done to talk about. Dudley couldn’t find anything nice that his father had ever done, anything other than the minimum required.

She was ruined. She had never had any great desire to volunteer for any charity, but any even halfhearted suggestions towards kindness were met with scorn, from Vernon and Marge. No one was going to like her, and it was Vernon’s fault, and Marge Dursley, and Lily and that son of Lily’s.

Some marriage.

And she was supposed to be sorry he was dead, and she didn’t know how she felt.

Or if she felt.

Or if she could ever feel again.

But she was going to have to get dressed, and go through the motions.

And pretend that she and Vernon had been happily married.


And it really wasn’t her fault.

Vernon Dursley was dead. He knew he was dead, and he knew he didn’t believe in religion or life after death, or any of that unnatural superstition. He KNEW he was dead, but despite that he didn’t believe it. He saw his body being carried out. He saw Petunia frustrated, upset, and blaming herself, but not really sorry he was dead. She was HIS wife, and it was her DUTY to feel sorry that he was dead.

Dudley and that witch he married were not even pretending to be sorry. It was their DUTY to be sorry. Dudley had NO BUSINESS marrying a witch, and then they never told him that she was a witch. They lied to him. All lies.

Time was all messed up. THEY were showing him stuff, but they were not revealing who they were. It must be a really bad dream, all caused by that Potter, except he KNEW it wasn’t. Stuff like in that horrible Christmas Carol story. He hated that story. Tiny Tim would have been better off dead. Vernon hated all that sentimental claptrap.

Vernon thought he had spent a year looking at times when THEY probably wanted him to be like that stupid Scrooge after he had gone all soft in the head. Vernon was a successful business man because he was never soft. Charity, bah humbug.

We are back at the present. That’s Arthur Weasley! That must be his fat wife. Why are they showing me sex? She’s got big knockers. All that playing around. More female crap. Just get to it? She’s moaning and trying to make a big show of how good it is. Petunia never did that. She just put up with me, but I got rid of my urges, like a man should.

It’s like an X rated movie. Now they are showing me more Weasley. She’s a real looker! Why are they showing me her being raped? What’s the point? Yes, yes, she is making a big show of enjoying it with that Weasley.

My god, there is another Weasley, and he’s doing it to a black. She has a big fat black ass. You would expect one of THAT savage sort to get into sex.

I recognize that Weasley. He is Potter’s friend. He’s watching his wife acting like an animal feeding that kid. We didn’t put up with any of that. Petunia wanted to animal feed Dudley, and so did that female excuse for a doctor, but my family insisted that she use bottles like good modern people do.

Now we are at Potter and that little bimbo he married. Yes, yes, she is curvy, but she’s a little fat too. Petunia always stayed thin. They are a bunch of sex fiends, that’s what they are. She’s not using a modern bottle either.

Why are they showing me and Petunia doing it? I DID NOT RAPE MY WIFE? Just because I didn’t do all that soft stuff that is in those woman’s books? I wanted sex, and I had sex with my wife. There isn’t any need to make a big deal, get all soft and mushy and do all that other stuff first. It wasn’t Petunia’s duty to like it, just to do it. She is MY wife, and if I wanted it her duty was to let me do it to her.

Vernon’s anger was beginning to overwhelm him. If he didn’t change there would be nothing left but rage, and in the eternal scheme of things that rage would turn in on itself and any semblance of a person would disappear.

There were two spirits that were attempting to show Vernon scenes that could make him sorry for at least some of the things he had done. One said to the other, “I remember what Harry Potter said to Tom Riddle, ‘Try for a little remorse.’ Neither Riddle nor Dursley are the least but sorry for how they treated others. It’s really sad.”

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