Chapter Text
Harry will be five by the end of the summer, though he only knows that because Duddley just turned six, and that means Duddley is going to move onto a new school next term, a school for big kids, and he will have a whole year without Duddley in the same class, God, the same school, than him. The year is going to be so peaceful. At least at school. At home, life would be more or less the same, he guessed. Life never changed at home.
With that thought in mind, he moves to continue the motions of every day, from washing dishes after breakfast and then swiping the floors and then getting clothes out of the washing mashine and putting on a new load. He does that every day, and if he does it right and fast, he gets to go outside in the garden and take care of the plants.
He likes taking care of the plants, because flowers make aunt Petunia happy, and she doesn't frown or scoul at him when he gives her flowers. She even keeps some! And sometimes, when his aunt is praised on her garden, she even smiles, and he knows it's because of him because he was the one to take care of the flowers she pride herself so much of. And this is some of those happy days. He got new flowers this year, and he's exited to see the summer flowers sprout. He planted lillies these year. They always make aunt Petunia cry a little, but she also always cut them and put them in water in every single room of the house. She never does that with other plants. And lillies are his favourite flowers anyway, even if he doesn't really know why.
And is while he is tending to his plants that he sees it. A cab stopping nextdoor, and a woman getting out of it. She takes stuff out of the back, some bags and boxes and a rolled up matress, and then she waves to the driver and the taxi is going away and she is alone with her things on the sidewalk, standing in front of a closed gate.
Harry knows he should be working, but he sits in there, hands full of dirt, and dirty knees and arms and face, and stares at that woman that for surre haven't seen him.
She has brown skin, only slighly darker than his, and beautiful curls, pulled up in a ponytail and tied with a flowery headband that does not fit the sport jacket she wears. And yet, that is the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen in his whole almost five years of age. And he thinks shes probably also the saddest, because she moves in a way like she has nothing left to lose.
And then, she looks around and sees him, and Harry gets confused because her whole face light up and she smiles the prettiest smile ever, and waves to him. He wonders if she is really smiling to him, and not someone else behind him, but when he looks around, he's the only one there, so he can't be mistaken. She is waving at him, so he waves back, and she seems happy and goes into her house, unlocking the door while she hold a huge box.
And he is left confused, because no one is happy to see him ever.
No one but this woman.
Aunt Petunia doesn't say anything bad about their new neighbor, and that's a first.
According to her, she is quiet, lonely, and does not bother anyone. She is fixing the messy lawn, and she never has anyone over, and she is rather boring, so aunt Petunia stop paying attention to her. Harry doesn't. He keeps seeing her every day in the summer, because she is out everyday, sometimes in high waisted short and colourful spagethi strap tops, sometimes in a flowy flowery dress, rather outdated, if his aunt had any say about it.
And everyday she works on her garden, and just like him, she plants flowers.
The woman next door plants lillies.
So, maybe he starts finishing his jobs faster just to work on the garden and see the woman, with her beautiful clothes and beautiful hair and beautiful flowers, that bloom beautifully, way better than his ever did. He wished he could ask her what's her secret, but he knows adults don't want him talking, or anywhere near them.
But sometimes, he can't help himslef, like on that day he was trimming the bushes near the fence and heard her talking to someone.
"Hi Lils.You're growing beautifully. Just like you always were. The prettiest flower anywhere you go."
"Who are you talking to?" He asked, looking over the fence from his little bench, and imeddiatley regreted, because he shouldn't talk to adults like that.
The woman however, looked up and smiled at him.
"Hi there" she sat on her heels "I'm talking to my plants. It helps them grow."
"It does?" he asked again, because she had anwered his first question with a smile.
"It does" and she got up and closer to the fence, and, while he retracted a little, she let herself lean over the wood. "I'm Mary, what's your name, lad?"
"Ha- Harry!" he said "... ma'am"
She smiled, like she was trying to supress a laugh, and Harry thought she was the strangest adult ever, because she was not doing what adults were suposed to do. Adults were supposed to ignore him, and maybe give them orders. Adults were supposed to be mad when he talked out of turn. But she just smiled and answered him like there was nothing more important in the world.
"No need to call me ma'am, Harry, I'm just Mary, anyway. No one very important."
"Oh... ok" She, Mary, was strange. He liked strange, because most people didn't and he knew what was like to not be very much liked "Why you were calling your plants Lils?"
"Oh, that's her name" she gently held a beautiful orange lilly. "Lilly. All the others are lillies, but this one, this one is Lilly. That over there is a wild rose, her name is Marlene. And all the wildflowers are called Dorcas. And that over there is wolfsbane, his name is Remus. This one over there, starting to go up the wall is a Hoya bella, his name's Sirius. And the tallest sunflower is James."
"You names all of your flowers?"
"Not all of them, just the ones that make me think of my friends."
"Oh..." so Mary had people who liked her. Maybe she was not as strange as he thought she was, and did not need him to like her.
"Do you wanna come and meet my flowers?"
His eyes shone. He had never been on someone elses garden, and she had the prettiest garden of all, full of colour and different plants. He nodded enthusiasticalty.
Mary bended over the fance and picked him up with ease. Harry got afraid for a second there, but then he was on her hip and he could smell her perfume and she was warm and Harry didn't remember the last time he had been held like this. She spent a full on hour carrying him around and showing him all of the flowers in her garden and talking about them as if they were both close friends and study objects. She knew all the names people called them, and a thing called scientific name, that scientists used, and even the names old witches in medieval times used to hide their recipes. She knew how they grew and what they needed to thrive, and what they helped, or not, with. He never thought plants could be more than pretty things growing in a garden.
And then, there was the tree in the back of her garden, an old tree aunt Petunia always said somebody should cut down, but that had, now, a rope swing and bird houses.
He had never been in a swing, he thought, but when Mary pushed him on it, the sensation of flying was both familiar and the best thing he had ever felt.
He didn't know adults could be like Mary, maybe she was, after all, an oddity like him.