Looks Like Love Never Dies

The war was over and everyone was safe. Harry had found them, contacting his wizard comrades with the instructions to return the Dursleys to their home in Little Whinging. The wizards had tried to explain what had happened, but it all just seemed to go over their heads. The Dursleys couldn't understand that their teenage nephew had lead an army of students into a battle, where the only weapons they were armed with were sticks of wood. They couldn't grasp the rumour that was circulating about their nephew dying and coming back to life. They had decided that they didn't want to know anymore when their 'handler' had told them that Harry was now a hero, who had also broken into a bank and rode out on a dragon.

Vernon was anxious to see Harry again – not to make sure that his nephew was alright, or even alive. No. He wanted to ask him if he knew anyone by the name of Rosmerta. This had been plaguing him since he had heard the same haunting sound almost 25 years after her disappearance. He had thought about asking Diggle, deciding not to for various reasons. For one, the man was not very good at keeping his mouth shut – always spilling their secrets during their months in hiding. Diggle had managed to tell Dudley that he was adopted, when his parents had managed to keep that a secret for almost 20 years. Secondly, Vernon was scared that maybe Diggle did know, and he didn't want to find out bad news from a man who didn't know how to take life seriously. Vernon wasn't the kind of person to just go around revealing private information to strangers – especially strangers like him. No, he was going to wait for Harry.

He had also decided to wait so he wouldn't raise suspicion from his wife. It was not like Vernon to suddenly peak an interest with someone who may – or may not be one of them. He wasn't even sure why he was even looking for her. It was a couple of hours, years ago – he doubted she would even remember him. No doubt she had already moved on. Not to mention that he was now married! But even before he heard the noise, she had always been in the back of his mind; this nudging feeling constantly making him wonder where she was – or what might have happened if he hadn't let her get away. Vernon knew that he loved his wife, but he had always felt something stronger for Rosmerta.

He had searched for her, looking for her name in phone books and asking around the town they met. He had even braved the internet when he could, but he couldn't find anything on her. It was almost like she didn't exist. She wasn't on any data base he could search, and he had even reached out for help from a friend in the force. For a couple beers and the promise of a favour later in life, his friend had run her name through the police's data base – coming up blank. That had cost him a weekend to help with his friends move.

Harry arrived at their house a week after they returned. More protection spells having been put in place since the war. Even though the wizard Hitler had been defeated, his minions might still be after them. Harry walked through the gate, striding up to the door cautiously. He knocked once, then again.
"Hello?" He called, unsure if they'd let him in. Vernon hesitated behind the door, not sure what to say. He opened it slowly to find his nephew smiling softly in front of him.
"Harry."
"Uncle Vernon. How are you?" The men were unsure how to proceed, as their relationship had never become one of love. But Harry still cared that his uncle was alive, and Vernon was glad Harry hadn't failed.
"Well, thank you." They stood there for a moment before Harry asked.
"How's Dudley?"
"Good. He's going to a very nice university."
"That's good."

Vernon finally invited Harry inside and the two took a seat on the couch which Harry was never previously allowed on.
"Where's Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked, looking around for her, but not even hearing her in another part of the house.
"She's at the shops." Harry had almost considered the option that maybe his aunt was ignoring him, avoiding him. But he could see the truth behind his uncle's answer as he looked down the hallway to the kitchen, where the pantry was standing open, the shelves all but bare.

"Harry," Vernon began, not quite sure how to ask what he was about to ask, "could you not tell Petunia what I am about to ask you?" Harry nodded, his brow creasing slightly as he did. "Do you know someone by the name of Rosmerta Macmillan?" Harry took a breath, thinking it over in his head.
"Do you mean, Madam Rosmerta?" He asked, his head tilted in confusion. "How do you know her?" Vernon shifted in his seat, his discomfort radiating from him.
"Are you sure that's her?"
"I don't know her last name?" Harry said, running a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was. "She's the landlady of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmead." Vernon was staring at the ground, his mind elsewhere. When Harry said the last words his eyes connected back with the teen.
"A pub?"
"You could say that?"
"It's her."

The two men stared at each other, questions buzzing through both of them. Vernon wanted to know more about her; how does she look? Is she married? Does she remember him? While Harry was still wondering how his uncle knew her in the first place.
"How is she?"
"I don't know? I haven't seen her since the war started?"
"So she could be dead?"
"I didn't say that…" Harry rubbed the back of his neck, trying to remember if Rosmerta was one of the deceased, but his brain coming up flat, "but I can't deny that's a chance." Vernon looked deflated, his eyes finding his feet on the floor.
"Thanks, Potter," he said softly, getting to his feet and moving to the door to the kitchen.
"Wait!" Harry called, getting to his feet. "If she's still alive, I might know where to find her?" Vernon looked back at him, his eyes wide.
"Show me."

Harry told him that the only way to get there was not only not going to be fun, but will also involve a lot of magic. Vernon knew that if he thought on it for too long he would back out – leaving him with the itching question of 'what if?'

He took a deep breath, swallowed hard and told Harry to do whatever it took.
"Take my arm."
"What?"
"Hold on to my arm."

Harry looked at Vernon, anxious for his uncle's reaction. With a deep breath, Harry spun on the spot, awkwardly dragging Vernon with him. They arrived with a thud and a yelp from Vernon. The older man doubled over, his breakfast landing on the floor. Harry apologised as he moved away, giving him some space. Vernon looked up when he was done; his eyes, red from the tears, widening at the new sights. They had moved, and Vernon could hardly describe how. He had felt a pull, then he was being squeezed for dear life, and then he landed in the snow with his breakfast finding its way back up his throat. They were in a small town, the buildings in various states of abandonment, reconstruction, and even a few showing severe signs of being burnt.

"What happened to this place?" Vernon asked, his eyes wandering through the street.
"There was a fight. Or, actually, this was the origin of the fight," Harry said softly. He began walking forward, manoeuvring around piles of rubble that had been pushed to the sides of the street. "I didn't realise it was so affected." They paused outside a building before moving on, the sign on the front of the place had been knocked off – but there was the head of a pig on the side which creeped Vernon out. They walked silently as both took in the mess for the first time, wondering what happened to the people who used to live here.
"I've never seen this place so deserted." Harry felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought of what this meant for the town. They finally stopped outside the Three Broomsticks. The building looked mostly intact, but there didn't look like there was anyone inside. Vernon walked inside, his heart beating fast.
"Rosmerta?" He called out, looking around the room almost desperately. When no one answered, Harry laid a hand on his uncle's shoulder, unsure what to say. Just as the two turned to leave, the door opened again, revealing an aging woman carrying a basket, her hair swept back from her face. She froze as her eyes fell upon the intruders, her hand reaching for the wand behind her ear.
"Madam Rosm –" Harry started, by stopped when he saw the look of pure shock on Vernon's face.
"Rosmerta?" She stared at him as though she was seeing a ghost, her face palling. He took a step forward, holding out his hands, showing her he meant no harm. "Rose, it's uh – It's Vernon." The basket dropped to the floor, its contents spilling onto the floor as Rosmerta's hands flew to her lips. She stared at him; her eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
"How?" She whispered, her voice cracking.
"Harry, showed me," Vernon said, looking back at his nephew. Rosmerta's eyes darted to Harry then back to Vernon. Her head was shaking, as though she couldn't believe what was happening. She stepped toward him, now only a few feet from him. Her lips spread into a smile as she placed a hand on his cheek, her eyes filling with tears.
"I'm so sorry," she breathed, her arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug.
"No," Vernon said, his voice constrained with emotion, "please don't apologise." Then he did something Harry never expected. Their lips connected, their breath mingling. Vernon's mind went blank as they kissed, not thinking of anything but the woman in his arms. In that moment he didn't care about consequences, he didn't want to let go – for anything.

A/N: Words – 1,738

Prompts – Written for June Funfair: Circus - the Clown and the Armless Wonder