Fic: Christmas Cards
Ginny held her husband’s hand tightly, hiding her face in her woollen scarf to escape the chill of the snow-heavy air. She was being jostled from every direction, people rudely clipping her shoulder and moving on without another word.
She had to admit that she found shopping for Christmas presents in a Muggle town centre a little frightening.
Harry was in his element, tugging her along with him through the crowds, seemingly unfazed by the crush of humanity around them. Ginny knew he revelled in the fact that nobody - other than women of a certain age - paid him the slightest bit of notice in the Muggle world. He was just a young man with untameable black hair and gorgeous eyes, and if he got noticed for his appearance, he didn’t seem to care. What bothered him was being noticed for who he was and what he’d done.
‘Why do we have to go to Argus, Harry? Can’t we get tree lights in the village?’ Ginny turned her body in towards Harry’s, her free hand wrapping around his arm.
‘Argos,’ Harry corrected, absently. ‘And no, they don’t have Muggle fairy lights in the village, not the ones I - we want, anyway.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you for coming with me.’
Ginny glared at the woman that had just bashed her with a bag, then grinned at Harry. ‘My pleasure. Though it’s getting harder and harder not to hex anyone that bumps into me.’
He returned the grin and pulled her out of the flow of people to stand by a shopfront. ‘Please try not to. I’ve only been an Auror for six months, and I’d hate to lose my job because I didn’t stop my wife bat-bogeying a bunch of Muggles.’ He dropped her hands, only to slide his own up to cradle her face. ‘Would a kiss cheer you up?’
Ginny pressed her lips to his in answer, tangling a hand in Harry’s hair. The kiss was short but incredibly sweet, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and let her head rest on his shoulder. Harry’s arms enfolded her and they stood in one another’s embrace for several long minutes, warm, happy and content.
‘Harry?’ a gruff voice exclaimed.
Startled, Ginny looked up from Harry’s chest and heard him gasp.
A tall, broad man was standing there staring at them in disbelief, his dark blond hair dusted with snow. His little piggy eyes were wide open in shock, though they were so squinty it was hard to actually tell. ‘It is you.’
Harry’s mouth was opening and closing, but he didn’t seem to be able to get any words out, so Ginny decided to speak for him.
‘Who are you?’
The man looked briefly at the floor, shamefaced. ‘Dudley Dursely,’ he admitted, rather sheepishly. ‘Harry is my …’
‘Cousin. Yes, I know. Not that you ever really acknowledged him as such.’ She gave Dursley what Harry called her “death stare”, and was inordinately pleased to see him blush. ‘What do you want?’
‘Ginny,’ Harry said, softly. ‘It’s alright, honest.’ He gave her the little smile that meant he was nervous and upset, and turned to face his cousin. ‘Long time, no see, Dudley. How have you been?’
Dudley shrugged. ‘Oh, you know. Working.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets, the very picture of awkwardness, and then started talking in a sudden spurt of words. ‘Listen, I’m sorry. I know Mum and Dad treated you like crap. I treated you like crap. I don’t blame you for hating us, I ….’
‘I don’t hate any of you, Dudley. I can’t say I like your mum and dad all that much, but I don’t hate them. And you were just a kid.’ It was Harry’s turn to shrug. ‘You acted the way Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon expected you to. It was all you knew.’
Dudley actually rocked backwards, looking physically stunned. ‘I … uh … I thought …’ He visibly pulled himself together. ‘You’re a better man than me. I don’t think I could feel that way.’ He looked at the floor again, flushing crimson. ‘D’you … I mean, do you want to go and get a pint, or something?’
‘Gin?’ Harry raised his eyebrows at her.
She nodded, taking his hand. ‘I could do with a drink, actually.’
‘Uh - OK, then. There’s a place ‘round the corner that’s pretty quiet, if that’s alright?’ At Harry and Ginny’s nods, he led them down an alleyway and into a little pub that was almost completely empty.
As they settled into a booth, Dudley remained standing. ‘Well, what can I get you, um, Ginny, is it?’
Ginny looked desperately at Harry for help. She had no clue about Muggle drinks, and it was unlikely that a Muggle pub would have pumpkin juice.
‘Orange juice for both of us, please, Dudley, that’d be great.’ Harry started unwinding his scarf from around his neck. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem.’ Dudley headed for the bar, a surprising amount of grace in his step, considering his large frame.
‘He’s the last person I expected to run into today,’ Harry said, thoughtfully. ‘He’s … different. Grown up a bit.’
‘About bloody time, if you ask me,’ Ginny huffed, as Dudley returned with three glasses full of juice. She couldn’t help but resent the man - he’d helped to make Harry’s early years loveless, and she didn’t care that he’d apparently had a change of heart when Harry had finally left the Durselys for good. The fact remained that Dudley had made it his childhood mission to make Harry as miserable as possible, and she struggled to forgive him for that.
Dudley settled himself into the support of the leather bench seat, and toyed nervously with the glass in front of him, turning it back and forth on the cardboard beermat it sat upon. ‘So. What have you been up to? I heard you killed the bloke that was after you?’
Harry made a subtle movement with his hand, and Ginny knew he was casting a Muffilato charm around them. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I did, though technically he killed himself. We, well, we lost a lot of good people. But we won.’ He sipped at his juice. ‘How about you? And Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. I never did find out what happened to you that year.’
Dudley ignored the question. ‘Three years ago, right? You were what, seventeen? Eighteen?’
‘Seventeen.’ Harry confirmed quietly.
‘Seventeen,’ Dudley echoed, shaking his head. ‘I reckon you must be pretty good at all that magic stuff, then, if you can kill someone like him at seventeen.’
A faint blush stained Harry’s cheeks, and he screwed his face up. ‘Don’t get any grand ideas about me, Dudley. I’m nothing special. I just have a talent for making good friends. With people like Ginny and her family around me, there was no way I could ever have lost.’
‘Ginny your girlfriend? She looks like those twins, the ones that gave me the sweets.’
Ginny brought her left hand out from under the table and placed it on top of Harry’s, angling her fingers in such a way that her wedding ring was obvious. ‘I’m Harry’s wife. And Fred .. Fred and George …’ She broke off, her throat thick with the threat of tears. Even three years on, the grief she felt over Fred was still fresh, and it struck at the most unexpected times.
Harry turned his hand over to link his fingers with hers. ‘The twins are Ginny’s brothers. Fred - Fred died in the final battle.’ His thumb rubbed the back of her hand, and she leaned in against him, close enough that their heads were touching.
‘He … he died? But he was just a kid.’
‘Lots of kids died, Dudley,’ Harry said softly. ‘Too many.’
An awkward silence settled over the table, and Ginny bowed her head, not wanting Dudley to see the tears that had welled up in her eyes. Some illogical part of her brain was screaming that Dudley wasn’t entitled to see her grief, grief that belonged to a world he knew nothing about, a world that he had mocked for years. He could never understand the sheer horror and terror that had gripped Wizarding Britain for so long, and he didn’t deserve to see her cry.
Dudley surprised her by reaching across the table and gripping both of their hands with his meaty fingers. ‘I’m sorry.’ He sounded sincere, and when Ginny looked up, she saw that his face was solemn and sympathetic. ‘I wish … I wish things had been different.’
Taking a deep breath, Dudley looked briefly away from them, and then touched his finger to Ginny’s wedding ring. ‘So, you’re married? How long?’
‘We got married this September 1st. If I’d had my way, I’d have married Ginny three years ago, but she had school to finish, and I was in Auror training, so we waited until I qualified,’ Harry said.
‘Auror?’ Dudley asked, raising his eyebrow. ‘What’s an Auror?’
‘Er, well, I guess an Auror is kind of a Wizarding policeman. The closest thing in the Muggle world would be a CID officer. We go after dark wizards.’
Dudley chuckled. ‘I’d’ve thought you’d be fed up of that, seems like that’s all you did in school. Guess you must be good at it.’ He turned to Ginny. ‘How about you? Do you work?’
‘I’m a professional Quidditch player,’ Ginny replied, not feeling inclined to explain exactly what that was.
‘Qudditch. That game you lot play on broomsticks, right? I saw a book about it once, in Harry’s room. It looks like a laugh.’
Ginny was vaguely impressed by the fact that Dudley knew what Quidditch was, but worked hard not to show it. ‘I enjoy it. I get paid to do what I love, and there aren’t many people that can say that about their jobs.’
Dudley snorted. ‘Tell me about it. I work part-time in a videogame store at the minute, which I always thought would be the best job in the world, but it really isn’t. I’m studying to be a P.E. teacher, but it’s going to take five years ‘til I qualify. Be worth it, though, I’m half way there now.’
Harry grinned at his cousin. ‘You’re going to be a P.E. teacher? I’d never have thought that, Dudley. Good on you, mate.’
The other man blushed and returned the grin. ‘I couldn’t stay a lazy slob forever, could I? I’ve always liked sports and stuff, but I was too fat to play. Been on a diet, though, and I go to the gym most days, so it’s mostly muscle now. I don’t want to end up like Dad.’
‘What do you mean? Is he alright?’ Harry had genuine concern in his voice, and Ginny felt her heart swell with admiration for her husband - how could he find it within himself to be worried about the git?
Dudley obviously thought the same too, and his face registered his surprise. ‘He’s alright, I guess. Over-weight, high blood pressure, dodgy ticker, but still working at Grunnings. He’s been told to lose weight, but Mum keeps on cooking those fry-ups he loves, and he keeps eating them. I just don’t want to reach fifty and be fat and miserable like him.’ His face clouded over for a moment, and then he squared his shoulders and caught Harry’s gaze. ‘I don’t want to be a child abuser like him, either.’
Harry spat a mouthful of orange juice back into his glass, and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, coughing fiercely. ‘Child abuser?’ he gasped, once he’d finished choking. ‘Who did Uncle Vernon abuse?’
Ginny knew the answer even before Dudley said it, and she held even tighter to Harry’s hand in anticipation of her husband’s reaction.
Dudley frowned. ‘You,’ he said simply, stating what he seemed to assume was obvious. ‘He abused you, and so did Mum.’
Harry laughed, but Ginny could see the confusion on his face. ‘Abused me? Dudley, they never laid a finger on me. They barely spoke to me, so it wasn’t likely they’d take the time to hit me.’
Harry’s cousin twisted his hands together, and Ginny could see how much the conversation was hurting him. ‘Abuse isn’t just physical. You were emotionally abused, and neglected. You can’t think it was normal for you to live in a cupboard under the stairs, surely? You were cooking our breakfast from the age of four, clearing up our mess, wearing clothes that were about six sizes too big for you. It was wrong.’
Harry was looking at Dudley open mouthed, clearly lost for words. His grip on Ginny’s hand was almost painful, his palm sweaty and hot against hers. ‘Dudley, I … that’s …’ he trailed off. ‘Where did you get the idea that I was abused from?’
‘I’ve just finished the child protection module on my course. There was a case study on emotional abuse, and they could have been talking about you. I nearly had a bloody panic attack right there in the middle of class.’ Dudley picked up a spare beermat and began to mutilate it, his fingers working nervously at the damp cardboard. ‘Harry, I don’t ever remember Dad calling you anything other than boy, and sometimes all you got to eat was the scraps left over on the dinner plates. I was a right little bastard to you, and mum treated you like a skivvy. To be honest, it’s amazing you’ve grown up to be a normal bloke.’
Harry’s face had turned a curdy shade of white, with the exception of two hectic pin-pricks of colour blooming high on his cheeks, and he looked sick to his stomach. ‘I didn’t see anything wrong with it,’ he whispered, his voice shaky. ‘It was normal for me, I expected it. I didn’t like it, but it was all I knew.’ He cast a sideways glance at Ginny. ‘When I first stayed at the Weasleys, I thought it was their family that was the odd one out, that they were the exception.’
Dudley looked as awful as Harry, wearing a shamefaced look of contrition. ‘The way we treated you - it’s unforgivable, and part of me actually hates Mum and Dad for doing that to you.’
Harry raised his head at that, looking directly at his cousin. ‘Don’t hate them,’ he said, his voice harsh. ‘Don’t you dare hate them. They’re still your parents and they love you, despite their faults. You’re lucky to have your mum and dad, so treasure them.’
Dudley nodded sharply. ‘I do love them, it’s just hard to think about what they did. I spoke to them about it, and I think Mum realised just how horrible they’d been to you, but Dad still thinks you’re some kind of hooligan.’ His face suddenly brightened, and he chuckled. ‘It’s sort of funny to mention you around him, because he turns the colour of a tomato within about three seconds flat.’
Harry shared the chuckle, some of the horrible whiteness leaving his face. ‘Well, I think your dad is a lost cause where I’m concerned, but I like to think your mum would at least be civil to me now.’ The laughter left his voice. ‘Your mum wanted to go to Hogwarts, has she ever told you that?’
Dudley shook his head, pushing his fingers through the pile of shredded beermat in a figure of eight pattern. ‘Nah, but I kind of worked that out for myself. Makes sense, really.’ He paused, pulling his hand away from the cardboard snowdrift he’d created. ‘Mum wants to see you, you know.’
‘She does?’ Harry asked, dubiously. ‘Why? I thought she was glad to see the back of me.’
‘She’s been talking about you quite a bit. Not in front of Dad, of course, but she’s been talking to me. We both had our eyes opened for us when we stayed with Hestia and Dedalus. They told us all about the things you’d had to deal with at school. To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t go mental, ‘specially ‘cause you had to come home to us lot after.’ Dudley had a look of respect on his face, admiration clear in his voice.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘It was just stuff that needed to be done. Like I said earlier, I have a lot of very clever friends. I wouldn’t have made it alive out of first year otherwise.’
The look Dudley gave Harry spoke volumes. He obviously knew that Harry was being self-effacing, and Ginny began to feel a grudging respect for the man. ‘Even so, what you got up to was pretty impressive. Facing that Voldie bloke in your first year, rescuing that girl from some weird chamber when you were twelve …’ he trailed off, and stared at Ginny. ‘That was you, yeah? Hestia said the girl was a Weasley, their only daughter.’
She nodded, gobsmacked that Dudley had obviously listened to and absorbed the stories the Order members had told him, and that he had made the connection between the girl in the story and the woman in front of him. ‘Yeah, that was me. Harry’s had a hero complex from a very young age.’ She nudged her husband in the ribs to let him know that she was only teasing, and he leaned his head against her shoulder, the heat from his flushed face burning through her jumper.
Dudley smirked, then drained the last of his orange juice. ‘Started younger than that. If he ever saw me bullying someone, he’d come and mouth off at me so I’d start on him, and the other kid got away with it.’ His mouth screwed up in a grimace. ‘I was such a little arsehole. I wish someone would have taken me to one side and sorted me out.’
‘Dudley, it wasn’t all your fault. Your mum and dad treated you like a little prince,’ Harry said. ‘You didn’t really know any better.’
‘Hah. Yeah. I tell you, any kid of mine ever tried putting their foot through a telly like I did, they’d be in a world of trouble. I can’t believe what I used to get away with.’ As Dudley spoke, he glanced down at his watch. ‘Bugger, I’m going to be late for work if I don’t run. I start in five minutes.’ He stood and began pulling on his coat. ‘Um - could we do this again sometime?’
Looking somewhat taken aback, Harry nodded. ‘Yeah. That’d be nice. Tell you what, I’ll give you our address and telephone number, and you can get in touch whenever you’re free to meet up.’ He picked up one of the much-mutilated beermats, looked around to ensure he wasn’t being watched, then tapped the cardboard with his wand. The printed advertisement for beer disappeared, replaced with Harry’s lopsided scrawl, and he handed it over to Dudley.
‘Thanks, mate. I’ll be in touch, yeah?’ Dudley tucked the card into his pocket, then pulled on his gloves and scarf. ‘Well, best be off, my boss’ll go mental if I’m late.’
Harry and Ginny got to their feet, and on impulse, Ginny stepped forward and went up on tiptoes to press a kiss against Dudley’s plump cheek. ‘Nice to meet you, Dudley. Don’t be a stranger, okay?’
He grinned, and turned to Harry. ‘You lucky bastard.’ He reached out and pulled a surprised looking Harry into a hug. ‘I wasted the past nineteen years being a prat, but I’m not going to make the same mistake again, alright? Family should stick together.’ Releasing Harry, he stepped backwards. ‘I’ll be in touch soon. Take care of yourselves.’
Somewhat dumbfounded, Ginny watched Dudley leave the pub and then looked at her husband, who stared back at her with a bemused expression. ‘That’s not the same Dudley you’ve told me about.’
‘That’s not the same Dudley I knew,’ Harry said, as he picked up Ginny’s coat and held it out for her to slip into. ‘Bloody hell, who’d have thought it?’
Ginny buttoned up her coat, flipping her hair out from underneath the collar to fan across her back. ‘I think it’s wonderful. I hope he gets in touch.’
Harry pulled his hat down over his ears, then took Ginny’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go buy these lights, and then we can get home and put the tree up.’
With a sigh, Ginny let Harry lead her back out into the mad crush of people.
.
Part Two
She had to admit that she found shopping for Christmas presents in a Muggle town centre a little frightening.
Harry was in his element, tugging her along with him through the crowds, seemingly unfazed by the crush of humanity around them. Ginny knew he revelled in the fact that nobody - other than women of a certain age - paid him the slightest bit of notice in the Muggle world. He was just a young man with untameable black hair and gorgeous eyes, and if he got noticed for his appearance, he didn’t seem to care. What bothered him was being noticed for who he was and what he’d done.
‘Why do we have to go to Argus, Harry? Can’t we get tree lights in the village?’ Ginny turned her body in towards Harry’s, her free hand wrapping around his arm.
‘Argos,’ Harry corrected, absently. ‘And no, they don’t have Muggle fairy lights in the village, not the ones I - we want, anyway.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you for coming with me.’
Ginny glared at the woman that had just bashed her with a bag, then grinned at Harry. ‘My pleasure. Though it’s getting harder and harder not to hex anyone that bumps into me.’
He returned the grin and pulled her out of the flow of people to stand by a shopfront. ‘Please try not to. I’ve only been an Auror for six months, and I’d hate to lose my job because I didn’t stop my wife bat-bogeying a bunch of Muggles.’ He dropped her hands, only to slide his own up to cradle her face. ‘Would a kiss cheer you up?’
Ginny pressed her lips to his in answer, tangling a hand in Harry’s hair. The kiss was short but incredibly sweet, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and let her head rest on his shoulder. Harry’s arms enfolded her and they stood in one another’s embrace for several long minutes, warm, happy and content.
‘Harry?’ a gruff voice exclaimed.
Startled, Ginny looked up from Harry’s chest and heard him gasp.
A tall, broad man was standing there staring at them in disbelief, his dark blond hair dusted with snow. His little piggy eyes were wide open in shock, though they were so squinty it was hard to actually tell. ‘It is you.’
Harry’s mouth was opening and closing, but he didn’t seem to be able to get any words out, so Ginny decided to speak for him.
‘Who are you?’
The man looked briefly at the floor, shamefaced. ‘Dudley Dursely,’ he admitted, rather sheepishly. ‘Harry is my …’
‘Cousin. Yes, I know. Not that you ever really acknowledged him as such.’ She gave Dursley what Harry called her “death stare”, and was inordinately pleased to see him blush. ‘What do you want?’
‘Ginny,’ Harry said, softly. ‘It’s alright, honest.’ He gave her the little smile that meant he was nervous and upset, and turned to face his cousin. ‘Long time, no see, Dudley. How have you been?’
Dudley shrugged. ‘Oh, you know. Working.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets, the very picture of awkwardness, and then started talking in a sudden spurt of words. ‘Listen, I’m sorry. I know Mum and Dad treated you like crap. I treated you like crap. I don’t blame you for hating us, I ….’
‘I don’t hate any of you, Dudley. I can’t say I like your mum and dad all that much, but I don’t hate them. And you were just a kid.’ It was Harry’s turn to shrug. ‘You acted the way Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon expected you to. It was all you knew.’
Dudley actually rocked backwards, looking physically stunned. ‘I … uh … I thought …’ He visibly pulled himself together. ‘You’re a better man than me. I don’t think I could feel that way.’ He looked at the floor again, flushing crimson. ‘D’you … I mean, do you want to go and get a pint, or something?’
‘Gin?’ Harry raised his eyebrows at her.
She nodded, taking his hand. ‘I could do with a drink, actually.’
‘Uh - OK, then. There’s a place ‘round the corner that’s pretty quiet, if that’s alright?’ At Harry and Ginny’s nods, he led them down an alleyway and into a little pub that was almost completely empty.
As they settled into a booth, Dudley remained standing. ‘Well, what can I get you, um, Ginny, is it?’
Ginny looked desperately at Harry for help. She had no clue about Muggle drinks, and it was unlikely that a Muggle pub would have pumpkin juice.
‘Orange juice for both of us, please, Dudley, that’d be great.’ Harry started unwinding his scarf from around his neck. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem.’ Dudley headed for the bar, a surprising amount of grace in his step, considering his large frame.
‘He’s the last person I expected to run into today,’ Harry said, thoughtfully. ‘He’s … different. Grown up a bit.’
‘About bloody time, if you ask me,’ Ginny huffed, as Dudley returned with three glasses full of juice. She couldn’t help but resent the man - he’d helped to make Harry’s early years loveless, and she didn’t care that he’d apparently had a change of heart when Harry had finally left the Durselys for good. The fact remained that Dudley had made it his childhood mission to make Harry as miserable as possible, and she struggled to forgive him for that.
Dudley settled himself into the support of the leather bench seat, and toyed nervously with the glass in front of him, turning it back and forth on the cardboard beermat it sat upon. ‘So. What have you been up to? I heard you killed the bloke that was after you?’
Harry made a subtle movement with his hand, and Ginny knew he was casting a Muffilato charm around them. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I did, though technically he killed himself. We, well, we lost a lot of good people. But we won.’ He sipped at his juice. ‘How about you? And Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. I never did find out what happened to you that year.’
Dudley ignored the question. ‘Three years ago, right? You were what, seventeen? Eighteen?’
‘Seventeen.’ Harry confirmed quietly.
‘Seventeen,’ Dudley echoed, shaking his head. ‘I reckon you must be pretty good at all that magic stuff, then, if you can kill someone like him at seventeen.’
A faint blush stained Harry’s cheeks, and he screwed his face up. ‘Don’t get any grand ideas about me, Dudley. I’m nothing special. I just have a talent for making good friends. With people like Ginny and her family around me, there was no way I could ever have lost.’
‘Ginny your girlfriend? She looks like those twins, the ones that gave me the sweets.’
Ginny brought her left hand out from under the table and placed it on top of Harry’s, angling her fingers in such a way that her wedding ring was obvious. ‘I’m Harry’s wife. And Fred .. Fred and George …’ She broke off, her throat thick with the threat of tears. Even three years on, the grief she felt over Fred was still fresh, and it struck at the most unexpected times.
Harry turned his hand over to link his fingers with hers. ‘The twins are Ginny’s brothers. Fred - Fred died in the final battle.’ His thumb rubbed the back of her hand, and she leaned in against him, close enough that their heads were touching.
‘He … he died? But he was just a kid.’
‘Lots of kids died, Dudley,’ Harry said softly. ‘Too many.’
An awkward silence settled over the table, and Ginny bowed her head, not wanting Dudley to see the tears that had welled up in her eyes. Some illogical part of her brain was screaming that Dudley wasn’t entitled to see her grief, grief that belonged to a world he knew nothing about, a world that he had mocked for years. He could never understand the sheer horror and terror that had gripped Wizarding Britain for so long, and he didn’t deserve to see her cry.
Dudley surprised her by reaching across the table and gripping both of their hands with his meaty fingers. ‘I’m sorry.’ He sounded sincere, and when Ginny looked up, she saw that his face was solemn and sympathetic. ‘I wish … I wish things had been different.’
Taking a deep breath, Dudley looked briefly away from them, and then touched his finger to Ginny’s wedding ring. ‘So, you’re married? How long?’
‘We got married this September 1st. If I’d had my way, I’d have married Ginny three years ago, but she had school to finish, and I was in Auror training, so we waited until I qualified,’ Harry said.
‘Auror?’ Dudley asked, raising his eyebrow. ‘What’s an Auror?’
‘Er, well, I guess an Auror is kind of a Wizarding policeman. The closest thing in the Muggle world would be a CID officer. We go after dark wizards.’
Dudley chuckled. ‘I’d’ve thought you’d be fed up of that, seems like that’s all you did in school. Guess you must be good at it.’ He turned to Ginny. ‘How about you? Do you work?’
‘I’m a professional Quidditch player,’ Ginny replied, not feeling inclined to explain exactly what that was.
‘Qudditch. That game you lot play on broomsticks, right? I saw a book about it once, in Harry’s room. It looks like a laugh.’
Ginny was vaguely impressed by the fact that Dudley knew what Quidditch was, but worked hard not to show it. ‘I enjoy it. I get paid to do what I love, and there aren’t many people that can say that about their jobs.’
Dudley snorted. ‘Tell me about it. I work part-time in a videogame store at the minute, which I always thought would be the best job in the world, but it really isn’t. I’m studying to be a P.E. teacher, but it’s going to take five years ‘til I qualify. Be worth it, though, I’m half way there now.’
Harry grinned at his cousin. ‘You’re going to be a P.E. teacher? I’d never have thought that, Dudley. Good on you, mate.’
The other man blushed and returned the grin. ‘I couldn’t stay a lazy slob forever, could I? I’ve always liked sports and stuff, but I was too fat to play. Been on a diet, though, and I go to the gym most days, so it’s mostly muscle now. I don’t want to end up like Dad.’
‘What do you mean? Is he alright?’ Harry had genuine concern in his voice, and Ginny felt her heart swell with admiration for her husband - how could he find it within himself to be worried about the git?
Dudley obviously thought the same too, and his face registered his surprise. ‘He’s alright, I guess. Over-weight, high blood pressure, dodgy ticker, but still working at Grunnings. He’s been told to lose weight, but Mum keeps on cooking those fry-ups he loves, and he keeps eating them. I just don’t want to reach fifty and be fat and miserable like him.’ His face clouded over for a moment, and then he squared his shoulders and caught Harry’s gaze. ‘I don’t want to be a child abuser like him, either.’
Harry spat a mouthful of orange juice back into his glass, and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, coughing fiercely. ‘Child abuser?’ he gasped, once he’d finished choking. ‘Who did Uncle Vernon abuse?’
Ginny knew the answer even before Dudley said it, and she held even tighter to Harry’s hand in anticipation of her husband’s reaction.
Dudley frowned. ‘You,’ he said simply, stating what he seemed to assume was obvious. ‘He abused you, and so did Mum.’
Harry laughed, but Ginny could see the confusion on his face. ‘Abused me? Dudley, they never laid a finger on me. They barely spoke to me, so it wasn’t likely they’d take the time to hit me.’
Harry’s cousin twisted his hands together, and Ginny could see how much the conversation was hurting him. ‘Abuse isn’t just physical. You were emotionally abused, and neglected. You can’t think it was normal for you to live in a cupboard under the stairs, surely? You were cooking our breakfast from the age of four, clearing up our mess, wearing clothes that were about six sizes too big for you. It was wrong.’
Harry was looking at Dudley open mouthed, clearly lost for words. His grip on Ginny’s hand was almost painful, his palm sweaty and hot against hers. ‘Dudley, I … that’s …’ he trailed off. ‘Where did you get the idea that I was abused from?’
‘I’ve just finished the child protection module on my course. There was a case study on emotional abuse, and they could have been talking about you. I nearly had a bloody panic attack right there in the middle of class.’ Dudley picked up a spare beermat and began to mutilate it, his fingers working nervously at the damp cardboard. ‘Harry, I don’t ever remember Dad calling you anything other than boy, and sometimes all you got to eat was the scraps left over on the dinner plates. I was a right little bastard to you, and mum treated you like a skivvy. To be honest, it’s amazing you’ve grown up to be a normal bloke.’
Harry’s face had turned a curdy shade of white, with the exception of two hectic pin-pricks of colour blooming high on his cheeks, and he looked sick to his stomach. ‘I didn’t see anything wrong with it,’ he whispered, his voice shaky. ‘It was normal for me, I expected it. I didn’t like it, but it was all I knew.’ He cast a sideways glance at Ginny. ‘When I first stayed at the Weasleys, I thought it was their family that was the odd one out, that they were the exception.’
Dudley looked as awful as Harry, wearing a shamefaced look of contrition. ‘The way we treated you - it’s unforgivable, and part of me actually hates Mum and Dad for doing that to you.’
Harry raised his head at that, looking directly at his cousin. ‘Don’t hate them,’ he said, his voice harsh. ‘Don’t you dare hate them. They’re still your parents and they love you, despite their faults. You’re lucky to have your mum and dad, so treasure them.’
Dudley nodded sharply. ‘I do love them, it’s just hard to think about what they did. I spoke to them about it, and I think Mum realised just how horrible they’d been to you, but Dad still thinks you’re some kind of hooligan.’ His face suddenly brightened, and he chuckled. ‘It’s sort of funny to mention you around him, because he turns the colour of a tomato within about three seconds flat.’
Harry shared the chuckle, some of the horrible whiteness leaving his face. ‘Well, I think your dad is a lost cause where I’m concerned, but I like to think your mum would at least be civil to me now.’ The laughter left his voice. ‘Your mum wanted to go to Hogwarts, has she ever told you that?’
Dudley shook his head, pushing his fingers through the pile of shredded beermat in a figure of eight pattern. ‘Nah, but I kind of worked that out for myself. Makes sense, really.’ He paused, pulling his hand away from the cardboard snowdrift he’d created. ‘Mum wants to see you, you know.’
‘She does?’ Harry asked, dubiously. ‘Why? I thought she was glad to see the back of me.’
‘She’s been talking about you quite a bit. Not in front of Dad, of course, but she’s been talking to me. We both had our eyes opened for us when we stayed with Hestia and Dedalus. They told us all about the things you’d had to deal with at school. To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t go mental, ‘specially ‘cause you had to come home to us lot after.’ Dudley had a look of respect on his face, admiration clear in his voice.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘It was just stuff that needed to be done. Like I said earlier, I have a lot of very clever friends. I wouldn’t have made it alive out of first year otherwise.’
The look Dudley gave Harry spoke volumes. He obviously knew that Harry was being self-effacing, and Ginny began to feel a grudging respect for the man. ‘Even so, what you got up to was pretty impressive. Facing that Voldie bloke in your first year, rescuing that girl from some weird chamber when you were twelve …’ he trailed off, and stared at Ginny. ‘That was you, yeah? Hestia said the girl was a Weasley, their only daughter.’
She nodded, gobsmacked that Dudley had obviously listened to and absorbed the stories the Order members had told him, and that he had made the connection between the girl in the story and the woman in front of him. ‘Yeah, that was me. Harry’s had a hero complex from a very young age.’ She nudged her husband in the ribs to let him know that she was only teasing, and he leaned his head against her shoulder, the heat from his flushed face burning through her jumper.
Dudley smirked, then drained the last of his orange juice. ‘Started younger than that. If he ever saw me bullying someone, he’d come and mouth off at me so I’d start on him, and the other kid got away with it.’ His mouth screwed up in a grimace. ‘I was such a little arsehole. I wish someone would have taken me to one side and sorted me out.’
‘Dudley, it wasn’t all your fault. Your mum and dad treated you like a little prince,’ Harry said. ‘You didn’t really know any better.’
‘Hah. Yeah. I tell you, any kid of mine ever tried putting their foot through a telly like I did, they’d be in a world of trouble. I can’t believe what I used to get away with.’ As Dudley spoke, he glanced down at his watch. ‘Bugger, I’m going to be late for work if I don’t run. I start in five minutes.’ He stood and began pulling on his coat. ‘Um - could we do this again sometime?’
Looking somewhat taken aback, Harry nodded. ‘Yeah. That’d be nice. Tell you what, I’ll give you our address and telephone number, and you can get in touch whenever you’re free to meet up.’ He picked up one of the much-mutilated beermats, looked around to ensure he wasn’t being watched, then tapped the cardboard with his wand. The printed advertisement for beer disappeared, replaced with Harry’s lopsided scrawl, and he handed it over to Dudley.
‘Thanks, mate. I’ll be in touch, yeah?’ Dudley tucked the card into his pocket, then pulled on his gloves and scarf. ‘Well, best be off, my boss’ll go mental if I’m late.’
Harry and Ginny got to their feet, and on impulse, Ginny stepped forward and went up on tiptoes to press a kiss against Dudley’s plump cheek. ‘Nice to meet you, Dudley. Don’t be a stranger, okay?’
He grinned, and turned to Harry. ‘You lucky bastard.’ He reached out and pulled a surprised looking Harry into a hug. ‘I wasted the past nineteen years being a prat, but I’m not going to make the same mistake again, alright? Family should stick together.’ Releasing Harry, he stepped backwards. ‘I’ll be in touch soon. Take care of yourselves.’
Somewhat dumbfounded, Ginny watched Dudley leave the pub and then looked at her husband, who stared back at her with a bemused expression. ‘That’s not the same Dudley you’ve told me about.’
‘That’s not the same Dudley I knew,’ Harry said, as he picked up Ginny’s coat and held it out for her to slip into. ‘Bloody hell, who’d have thought it?’
Ginny buttoned up her coat, flipping her hair out from underneath the collar to fan across her back. ‘I think it’s wonderful. I hope he gets in touch.’
Harry pulled his hat down over his ears, then took Ginny’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go buy these lights, and then we can get home and put the tree up.’
With a sigh, Ginny let Harry lead her back out into the mad crush of people.
.
Part Two