Disclaimer: I don't own them (but I wish I did).

The stranger had seemed a bit perturbed when she hadn't recognized his name – why on earth she was supposed to know who he was, she didn't know – and then he'd muttered something about muggles that she was certain she would not have approved of, had she heard exactly what he said. Pulling Harry a little closer to herself, despite the fact that he was already star-fished around her, she gave the strange man a cold look and told him that if she saw him near her boys again – never mind that it was she who had bumped into him – she would call the police. He only laughed at her, which of course made her furious, and she stormed away in a huff, Harry still on her hip, Dudley still in the stroller.

Fenrir watched her leave, amusement shining in his eyes. He had to admit it was refreshing with a woman – despite her being a muggle, of all things – who didn't faint with fear by just looking at him.

Petunia and the boys found somewhere to enjoy their lunch – sandwiches and juice – but as soon as they were done Petunia decided that it was time to go home. She refused to admit it was because of the strange man, using the colder weather as an excuse to get the boys back home.

Their lives went on much as it had the past weeks. Petunia finally managed to find a baby-sitter - a teenage girl just out of school in want of pocket-money, and every morning she left home she silently asked Harry to promise that he wouldn't do anything too eye-catching in front of the baby-sitter. The child just looked up at her with his brilliant green eyes, and then wobbled over to Dudley, who was in a serious conversation with a teddy-bear. Smiling at her boys, Petunia bid the baby-sitter farewell and headed of to work.

As the baby-sitter never called her in hysterics about the boys doing something, Petunia always left in a good mood, and she let the thought of her boys be her drive at work. Her boss certainly seemed to think it was working, because she was asked to stay late every now and then in order to finish up something important. This rarely posed a problem, of course, as her baby-sitter was only glad for more opportunities to work. She did feel a bit bad for coming home late, the boys already asleep when she arrived, but she kept reminding herself that it was for them she was doing this. They needed an income, after all, if they wanted to keep their small apartment.

It was late, and it was dark. The chilly night air made her pull her coat closer to herself in hopes of conjuring some warmth. The effect, of course, was non-existent, and she walked faster. She had been working late again, and was eager to get back home to the boys. Her walk home led her through a park, and while she would never admit that it frightened her, she did increase her pace even more, hurrying through through the park as she silently wished nothing would happen.

It seemed that no one was listening to her, however, because suddenly a man, dressed in ragged and threadbare clothes, a scarf covering the lower half of his face, stepped out on the, path in front of her, blocking her way. Her heart lurched in fear, but she avoided eye-contact, hoping she was just paranoid as she tried to walk past the man.

"Hey, were d'ye think yer goin', missy?"

Mumbling something about home, she continued walking, but to her horror the man followed her. Before she had time to react the man grabbed her purse and tried to pull it away from her. She didn't know why, but she furiously refused to let go of the strap, but it was a losing battle; he was much stronger than her, despite being drunk – she could smell the alcohol on him – and soon the strap slid from her grip. The man began to run away with his spoils, but ran head first into a tall, broad-shouldered man with a less than amused expression on his face.

Before the thief had time to react, Fenrir grabbed him by his collar, and he was actually growling, and with inhuman strength tossed him into a nearby tree. Petunias purse laid forgotten on the ground as the thief groaned in pain, took a last, horrified look on Fenrir's face, and then bolted. For a brief second Petunia was certain it looked as if Fenrir wanted to follow.

She gulped and reached down to pick up her purse, which seemed unharmed, despite everything. She found that she couldn't quite look Fenrir in the eyes. "Thank you," she mumbled, shouldering the strap of her purse again. Glancing at him, she wondered about the expression on his face. It looked as if he was going to start growling again – what kind of person growled – and in his sneer she could clearly see his fangs. She was the first one to admit that she knew very little about the magical world that had taken Lily from her, but she was certain that fangs was not the norm. Suddenly she realized that she was now alone with him. Alone with a fanged man in a park at night. Surely this had to be one of her most stupid moments – she should've bolted with the burglar.

As if realizing what was going through her head, Fenrir's expression softened ever so slightly, so that he at least didn't look as if he was going to rip anyone's throat out any longer, and Petunia found that such a small change actually calmed her. Still, she made sure that she remained wary; after all, she had never thought that Vernon would hurt her, and look where that had gotten her.

"What're you doing out here?" the man suddenly asked gruffly, sounding as if he had some problems with forming the words.

Petunia blinked at him. "I-I've been at work," she stuttered out, wondering to herself why on earth she was explaining herself to him.

The look he gave her was disapproving, and quite out of place on his wild countenance. "Where're the cubs?"

"Cubs? Oh, you mean the boys!" She still didn't understand why he insisted on calling them cubs. They weren't animals. "They're at home with a baby-sitter."

Fenrir still looked highly dubious, and he opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to change his mind before he could get any words out. He gave her another look, this one almost sullen. "You shouldn't be out alone at night. It's dangerous."

For a brief moment Petunia wondered just where the danger was – was it with the burglars, or was it with him? Still, she knew he had a point – this wasn't a neighbourhood with a great reputation, and walking alone at night was something best avoided. The only reason she had done it was because the buses had stopped going since it was late, and she did not have a car. She couldn't even drive. Realizing that she was zoning out – something very rare for her, mind you – she shook her head to clear her mind. "I should hurry back home," she said, glancing at Fenrir. She still couldn't quite look straight at him, remembering how he'd looked just a few moments earlier all too well. "The baby-sitter will wonder where I've disappeared if I don't get home soon."

Fenrir looked at her. "I'll go with you," he then decided. When she looked as if she was going to protest he gave her a pointed look. "You'd rather get mugged again?"

That effectively shut up any protests she had, and she resigned – albeit somewhat reluctantly – to let him walk her home. She would never admit it out loud, but she was glad for the company. After all, she most certainly didn't want to get mugged again, and apart from the occasional chat with her co-workers she very rarely socialized with other adults.

She wasn't sure she could call this socializing, however. They were walking side by side in silence along the small park road. Petunia glanced at him every now and then when she was certain he wouldn't notice. They did see a few other people in the park, but Fenrir's statue – and his foul expression – stopped anyone from approaching them, something which relieved Petunia immensely.

After ten minutes of walking they reached the right street, and while Petunia felt that she didn't need escorting any longer, as she was almost home, she didn't know how to tell that to Fenrir. Still, she wasn't sure she wanted him to know exactly where she and the boys lived, so she stopped, turning around to face the wild looking man. As she turned, however, she laid her eyes on a car that was sickeningly familiar, and it suddenly felt as if her stomach had dropped out of her body.

Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open. "Oh dear god," fell from her lips. "Vernon." Fenrir could see her growing paler and paler. "Dudley!"

All thoughts of Fenrir violently banished from her mind, Petunia began to ran to the apartment complex that held her and the boys' new home. Vernon's car could only mean one thing, and she knew that he was there for her son. Fear blinding her, she rushed up the stairs. She had not gone through all that work on getting her boys away from Vernon to just let him take her son away from her. She'd sooner die.

Fenrir watched the woman disappear into one of the apartment complexes with a frown creasing his brows. He had a pretty good idea of what was going on, and the fear he'd smelled on her – palpable and pressing – reminded him of how she'd reacted back when he'd first met her, when she'd been hiding from her husband. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had made her afraid this time, but to his surprise the woman had opted to run straight into danger, so to speak, rather than hiding. She hadn't even asked him to come with her. Finding a near-by tree to lean against, Fenrir watched the apartment complex intensely. The woman was obviously worried about her cubs, and while Fenrir wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was curious to see what she would do in order to save them.

Taking the final staircase three steps at a time, Petunia finally arrived at the right floor, and coming out from the stairwell she saw the familiar large figure of Vernon, standing with his back against her, arguing loudly with her baby-sitter. One of their neighbours, an old lady who always smelled faintly of wet dog, had come out from her apartment to see what the ruckus was about.

Her heart caught in her throat, her stomach made out of lead, she tried to catch her breath. She mentally thanked all her lucky stars and her baby-sitter that the boys were nowhere in sight, and that she hadn't let Vernon into the apartment. It seemed as if she had arrived just in time, as well; judging by Vernon's movements and angry voice, he was going to force himself into the apartment soon.

The old lady looked up, setting her eyes onto Petunia. The expression on her face was enough to alert the baby-sitter, who also turned to look at Petunia in relief. Vernon, despite being quite thick, didn't miss this and turned around, too, his eyes turning murderous when he laid his eyes on Petunia.

"What's the meaning of this!?" he hollered, and she could smell the alcohol on his voice from the other side of the corridor.

Petunia, despite feeling as if she was about to sink through the floor, steeled herself and gave her soon to be ex-husband a cold look. She felt like running away, but she knew that she could never do that to her boys. Hoping that no one else could hear her hammering heart, she straightened her back and walked up to the man she had once thought she loved. "What is the meaning of what, Vernon?" Her voice only quivered ever so slightly.

He had been drinking a lot. The stink of alcohol practically oozed from his pores, and his face had taken on a decidedly purple hue, something that only happened when he was very drunk or very angry. Now he seemed to be both. Petunia wasn't a short woman, but she was skinny, and next to Vernon, who filled out half the hallway with his body, she looked tiny.

"You know what I mean, you stupid bint!" He was slurring his words, and he seemed to have problems focusing his eyes on her.

"What are you doing here, Vernon?" She deliberately kept her voice calm and even, even though she wanted to shout at him to get away and never come before her again, not wanting to agitate him unnecessarily. She had already gotten one bruise; she didn't need new ones.

Vernon, on the other hand, seemed to have no interest in remaining calm. Not that he'd been calm from the start, mind you, but he seemed to get even angrier just by looking at her. "What the bloody hell do you think!?" he shouted, spit flying from his mouth, "I'm here to get my son, you wretched whore!"

"Over my dead body!" So much for remaining calm.

He reacted instantly, and the slap twisted her head to the side. The sound of it echoed through the hallway, and the old lady from next door gasped loudly. Things went quickly from there. Horrified by his behaviour, the old lady loudly announced that she was going to call the police, and the words were like a slap all on their own to Vernon, who had completely forgotten that there were witnesses. His first instinct was to stop the meddling old bint, but she had disappeared into her apartment before he could do anything. Letting out a slurred curse, he gave Petunia a dark look. "This isn't over!" he promised, and then stomped down the stairs. Petunia didn't breathe until she heart the entrance door slam shut. Then, her knees buckled under her, and she slumped down on the floor of the hallway.

"Mrs. Dursley!" the young baby-sitter exclaimed, eyes wide in horror. "Are you okay?"

"Evans," Petunia corrected the girl absent-mindedly. She couldn't think clearly.

The baby-sitter looked as if she wanted to say something, but suddenly the apartment door opened just a crack, and Petunia could see two pair of large eyes looking at her.

"How did they open the door?" the baby-sitter mumbled. "They can't reach that high, can they? And how did they get out of their cribs?"

Petunia just smiled – she knew perfectly well how the door had been opened – and held her arms out to her boys. Seconds later Dudley was clinging to her, his bottom lip quivering. She kissed his hair and gathered him up in her arms. She wasn't going to let anyone harm her baby boys. Harry was standing next to her, looking far too serious for a two-year old, and Petunia smiled softly at him. Then, she scooped him into her lap as well, holding him close.

The old lady came out from her own apartment, announcing that she had telephoned the police and that they were on their way. Petunia remained on the floor for a moment, and then gathered her strength to stand up, the boys still in her arms. She was going to need a strong cup of tea. Knowing that the police would want to question them, too, the old neighbour and the baby-sitter followed Petunia into the apartment, and the elderly woman immediately set to preparing tea for them all.

After ten minutes or so a police officer, a short woman with a serious expression, arrived, and the three women gave their statement on what had occurred. On the police officer's recommendation, Petunia agreed to press charges against Vernon for physical assault. In all honesty she just wanted it all to be over and done with, but she knew it was best to follow procedure this time so that it didn't come back to haunt her later on. The police woman wrote everything down, and then promised Petunia to stay in touch about the charges before she left. The elderly neighbour left soon after, and Petunia paid the baby-sitter her wages for the night, as well as a large bonus, and then sent the girl home.

Only when she was alone with the boys in the apartment did she realize that she had completely forgotten about Fenrir.

Once the woman had disappeared out of sight, Fenrir had remained by the tree. As his hearing was quite superior to that of a human, he could pick up the faint sound of some voices coming from the building. The most prominent one was that of a man, and Fenrir guessed that it belonged to the woman's husband. A few minutes after a fat man with a purple neck, smelling strongly of alcohol, came marching out of the building and got into one of the cars and drove away. For a split second Fenrir was tempted to follow him, but even he had to admit that it would be difficult to keep up with the muggle contraption unless he was flying, and he had always hated brooms. Some time later another car arrived, this one having lights on top of it, and Fenrir recognized it as the vehicle of muggle law enforcement. He scoffed, thinking about how useless it would have been to call the aurors – what could a mere muggle do about anything? The muggle officer came back down after a while, and he watched her drive away with a frown.

Almost fifteen minutes passed. Just when he was about to leave, the door to the complex opened, and he saw the woman walk out. It was dark, but he could easily make out the red hand-print on her cheek.

She was looking around the street, a frown creasing her brows, and for a moment it looked as if she was going to say something. Fenrir, who was obscured by shadows, realized that she must be looking for him. He remained in the shadows, however, staying out of sight, and soon the woman gave up and went back inside.

Fenrir glanced up at the sky, feeling the presence of the moon, even though it was cloudy. It was a week until it would be full, but he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to wait for so long.

A week later her divorce went through, and a great weight was lifted from her. She was no longer Mrs. Dursley, and one of the first things she did was to change her surname to Evans. A few days later a court ruled that she would have the sole custody of Dudley, as well, and that night Petunia actually cried with relief. She was free of Vernon. She was still worried that her ex-husband would do something stupid – after all, he'd promised her it wasn't over – but she tried to banish those thoughts from her mind as much as possible. She was free, now, and could live her life with her boys however she wanted to. After some consideration, she changed Dudley's surname to Evans, as well. She didn't want him to have any link to Vernon.

Life went on. She got a raise at work, and started to save up money, wanting to find a better place to live. Dudley was learning how to talk at a rapid pace, and Petunia couldn't even be upset with him for being loud – he was just too adorable when he proudly told her every word he knew. Harry was still a very quiet child, but Petunia didn't worry too much as the boy still talked, albeit only to Dudley. Harry's accidental magic went on, as well, but Petunia doubted if she could really call it accidental. She remembered the things Lily had done when they were children, and it had always been uncontrolled and brought on by bouts of intense emotions. What Harry did seemed controlled; at night he would move several toys from the toy box into his crib, and sometimes he even moved Dudley. At breakfast he would sometimes steal some of her food by levitating it onto his plate while he thought she wasn't looking, and then look completely innocent when she told him off for it.

Dudley displayed no magical prowess, and Petunia wondered if maybe Fenrir had been mistaken when he'd assured her that her son was magical. She was a bit relieved at the thought – Dudley being non-magical would mean that he would not leave her behind come school-time. She had never doubted that Harry would disappear from his grasp the moment he turned eleven – she remembered all too clearly how Lily had slipped away from her – but she swore to herself to make the most of the time she would have with him.

Autumn passed into winter, and many days were spent down at the park with the boys tumbling around in a sheer layer of snow. Harry, especially, seemed to enjoy the snow, always being reluctant to leave when Dudley decided that it had become too cold to play. Still, the black-haired boy never complained, always letting his cousin take the lead in such matters.

Walking through the park one afternoon, having left the boys with their baby-sitter as she had been out Christmas shopping, Petunia was in a great mood. She'd found several different toys for the boys, as well as some new clothes, and she had made sure to wrap each gift individually, even going so far as wrapping each sock on their own, because she knew that her boys – Dudley, especially – were far more interested in unwrapping rather than the presents themselves. The weather was on her side, as well – despite the air being cold and crisp, the sun was shining brightly, and only a thin layer of snow covered the ground. She hoped it would last until the next day, as she knew the boys would love a day in the park.

Suddenly the large bushes on her side started rustling, bringing her out of her thoughts, and before she had time to react a man stumbled out on the road. Despite the cold weather he seemed to be wearing nothing but pants and an open leather coat, and Petunia realized with a start that she recognized him.

"Fenrir?"

The man turned towards her, looking genuinely surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Petunia ignored his comment. "Are you bare-foot?"

Glancing down at his feet, the man let out a curse. "I knew I'd forgotten something." Then, he went back into the bushes, muttering loudly. A few moments later he came back out again, this time carrying a pair of leather boots, which he put on without tying them.

Staring at him, Petunia was at a loss for words. She briefly wondered if he realized that he was still wearing nothing but a coat on his upper body.

Fenrir gave her another look. "What're you doing here, woman?"

It was enough to startle her out of her thoughts. "I could ask you the same thing," she snapped, giving him a critical look-over. "Are you trying to give yourself pneumonia?"

He scoffed. As if some muggle disease could bring him down. He glanced at her, taking in the bags full of presents in her hands. "You still haven't answered my question, woman."

"I live around here, remember?" Her tone of voice suggested that she seriously doubted his mental capabilities.

To her surprise, however – and slight chagrin – he only laughed at her. His breath hung like fog in the air for a few moments before dissipating. "Where're your cubs?"

"Has it even occurred to you that we might have names?" she said snippily, but there was no real malice in the tone. "And the boys are at home with their baby-sitter."

"Again?" he asked, giving her a surprised look. "After what happened last time?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "What happened last time was not her fault," she pointed out.

The man didn't look convinced, but he didn't pursue the subject. Petunia watched him closely. She hadn't seen him since the night Vernon had arrived, and she had to say that he looked a little worse for wear. Disregarding his scant clothing, it was obvious that he was worn out – he had dark circles around his eyes, and his hair was a tangled mess. Even his beard seemed wilder than usual, and there was a certain strain to his movements. A part of her wanted to accredit it to alcohol, but she had to admit that he certainly didn't smell like he'd been on a drinking binge.

Fenrir took another look at her bags. "What've you got in there?"

Blinking, Petunia realized that she'd gotten lost in her thoughts again. "Christmas gifts for the boys," she said after a few moments of gathering herself.

"That many?"

She gave him an almost hurt look. "What's wrong with getting them many presents for Christmas?" she asked, her tone taking on a decidedly defensive quality.

He scoffed at her. "You're gonna end up spoiling them, woman."

Petunia opened her mouth to retort, but realized that she couldn't come up with anything. Then, a gust of cold wind rustled through her clothes and she had to suppress a shiver. Or, rather, attempt to suppress a shiver and fail miserably at it.

"You cold?"

"Of course I'm cold! It's freezing out." She gave his clothes a critical look. "You must be freezing, too."

He only shrugged.

Realizing that it was a losing battle – it wasn't as if she was overly concerned with his health, anyway – Petunia gave up. "Anyway," she said, shifting her grip on the bags, "I should hurry back home now." She hesitated for a moment, an impulse coming over her. "Would you – would you like to come over for tea?"

It was difficult to tell which one of them was more surprised, especially when Fenrir accepted the proposal.

Petunia wasn't entirely sure why she had invited him. While she did feel grateful to him for giving her his train ticket all those weeks ago, as well as for saving her from getting mugged, she wasn't sure that warranted getting invited for tea. He seemed just as surprised, and looked decidedly out of place and disproportionate in her kitchen, holding a cup of tea in his large hands.

The baby-sitter had looked terrified when they'd come home, but Petunia had assured her that he was a friend of the family – even though she wasn't even sure he was a friend of anything – and had paid the girl her wages for the day before sending her off. Harry and Dudley had been curious about the man at first, but then Dudley had decided him boring and had dragged his cousin off to play with their toys.

Which left Petunia alone in the kitchen with a half-naked man that she barely knew. Her life had certainly taken odd turns lately.

"So," she said, leaning against the counter, holding a cup of her own. "I wanted to thank you for all your help. If it weren't for your train ticket we might have gotten caught before we'd even managed to leave London."

Fenrir shrugged. "Don't mention it," he said, taking a sip from his tea. He glanced around the kitchen curiously. "What happened to yer husband, by the way?"

Petunia stiffened ever so slightly. "Ex-husband," she corrected him. "And I don't know what he's up to these days." She hadn't told anyone that the fact that Vernon had been quiet lately scared her more than anything else.

The wild man in her kitchen gave her an approving look. "Got rid of him, eh? Good girl."

At that moment Dudley waddled into the room, closely followed by Harry. The blonde boy immediately latched himself to his mother's leg, solemnly telling her that he wanted a sandwich. Harry, on the other hand, had turned to Fenrir, watching the man with a critical look – as critical as a two-year old could manage, at any rate.

"What?" the man said, giving the kid a sour look.

Harry responded by levitating his tea-cup out of his hands.

"Harry," Petunia said warningly. "Be nice."

Having reclaimed the stolen cup, Harry proudly held it out to Petunia, who took it with a small smile. Then, to his great dismay, she gave it back to the stranger by the table.

"He's not going to keep it," Petunia assured her nephew.

Harry looked decidedly unconvinced.

Laughing, Petunia scooped him up in her arms. His eyes still reminded her eerily of Lily, but she had begun to feel less sad and more comforted by it lately. While her sister may be gone, she still had a piece of her in her nephew. "Sorry about that," she told Fenrir. "He thinks you're going to take the cup with you."

"Who says I won't?" the man retorted, his eyes sparkling.

Putting the boy into his high chair with a laugh, Petunia then scooped up Dudley and put him net to his cousin before pulling out the ingredients necessary to make the boys sandwiches.

Fenrir watched her closely, his curiosity piqued by the fact that she seemed to be an entirely different person the moment her cubs were present. She relaxed and smiled in comparison to her tenseness from earlier, as if seeing the boys calmed her. He could only approve – a woman should be protective of her cubs when they were so young.

The boys were given their sandwiches, which they devoured happily as Petunia sat down opposite to Fenrir.

"How come you've got the saviour?" Fenrir suddenly asked.

Petunia shot him an annoyed. "His name is Harry," she snapped. "And he's my nephew."

"Nephew, eh?" he mumbled, leaning back in his chair. "You're related to the Potters, and Voldemort never went after you?"

She didn't know what kind of question she had expected, but it wasn't that. "We – me and my sister did not have much contact," she said lowly, not sure why she was even telling him. "I don't think V-voldemort even knew I existed." She still remembered all too well what had been written in the letter Dumbledore had left for her. She wished she could forget.

The man nodded. "Makes sense that he of all people wouldn't be interested in some muggle-born's family."

Petunia flinched. Harry, who was very perceptive, glared at Fenrir, and suddenly the man's tea-cup floated out of reach again. Petunia absent-mindedly plucked it out of the air, her mind full of memories.

Fenrir glanced at Harry, who was chewing his sandwich as menacingly as a two-year old coul. "They don't know how he survived," he suddenly said.

"I know," Petunia said, looking down into her tea-cup. "I w-was told when Harry was left with me."

"Some think he's going to be the new dark lord," Fenrir went on, closely observing Petunia's reactions. "Saying that only another one could've defeated someone like Voldemort."

"That's nonsense," Petunia snapped. "He's only a child."

Fenrir shrugged. "Voldemort was a child once too, wasn't he?"

She gave him a shrewd look, her eyes narrowed. "You speak of him as if you knew him personally.

He shrugged again. "I did. Used to work for him."

Petunia reacted instantly, standing up with enough force to push her chair to the floor. Grabbing the boys' high chairs, she pulled them away from the table and immediately stood in front of them, shielding them with her own body. Dudley started crying. "Get away from us!" she hissed out, glaring at the man. Her heart was beating hard enough to hurt, and fear was clawing at her insides. She was not ignorant of the fact that Fenrir was much, much larger than her.

Fenrir rolled his eyes at her. "Relax, woman," he said. "I've already told you I've no interest in hurting your cubs."

Reaching back to grasp Dudley's hand, she glared at Fenrir, not moving one inch from where she stood. "Do you really think I will trust you on that?"

He gave her a dark look. "I'm many things, woman, but a liar is not one of them."

"Yet you worked for that – that monster!"

"Yes, worked. As in the past."

"Of course it was in the past, he's dead!" Dudley was still crying, and she could feel Harry's agitation.

Fenrir was looking straight at her, his eyes grave. "I stopped working for him before that," he told her, his voice cold. "You're not the only one who's lost someone to the bastard."

It took a few moments for his words to sink in. When she finally realized what he'd just said, she gulped, her eyes wide. "Oh, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be," he interrupted. He was still leaning back in his chair as he glanced at Dudley. "Your cub needs you."

Her body still thrumming with fear, Petunia turned around to scoop Dudley up into her arms, making soothing noises into his hair. Once he'd calmed down to just quivering his bottom lip, she picked up Harry as well, holding both boys close despite it being rather cumbersome. Even Harry seemed shaken up by the situation, and he leaned into his aunt's embrace.

"Sheesh," Fenrir suddenly muttered, "calm down, woman. Yer heart's loud enough to wake the neighbours."

Petunia wasn't sure how to react to that – surely he couldn't hear her heart that well? Pulling out a chair with her foot, she sat down, balancing the boys on one leg each. "I have a name, you know," she said lamely, feeling out of balance.

The man blinked at her, and opened his mouth as if to say something. He immediately closed it again, however, a frown creasing his brows. "Yeah," he said after a few moments, "what is your name, anyway?"

A/N: Always the tactful one, that Henri Bareback. Most of this chapter was written today. I really don't have any good excuses for being lazy with my updates, do I? Except, of course, laziness.