ficpost: "Funny about Families" Dudley and Aberforth
Title: "Funny About Families"
Fandom: Harry Potter
Featured Characters: Dudley Dursley and Aberforth Dumbledore
Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing and goats.
Spoilers/Timeline: Deathly Hallows
Disclaimer: JKR not me.
Notes: For a hogwarts_elite challenge. The prompt was "write two 250 - 500 word ficlets that show the same scene from a Harry Potter book from the perspective of two characters who are not Harry." It won its meet! \o/
Summary: It is universally true about families --
Wordcount: 626 altogether.
Title: Cup of Tea
Word Count: 310
Rating: PG
Funny about families, when you thought about them, which Dudley tried to avoid; since a certain lipsticked letter from his mum had been nicked and shown round his and the upper classes at Smeltings, he preferred to avoid remembering that at home he was Duddykins, had a mum who was more generous with kisses than with sweets, a dad you didn't want to cross, and a cousin, well, a cousin.
It was Dudley's cousin, locked upstairs in Dudley's second bedroom, who'd got him thinking about family this morning. Harry was family, though you couldn't tell it to look at him; he wasn't big like Dudley, but he'd none of Mum's boniness, either, and he certainly didn't share her attitude towards food (if she knew all the sweets Harry snuck behind locked doors! And he wasn't a growing boy, either -- seemed never to get any taller than Dudley's chest) or towards Dudley himself.
He dropped a second sugar cube into Harry's teacup, then, idly, a third, and stirred. It was that last thought that was buzzing at him. Harry didn't care for Dudley, and that stood to reason; the small boys at school didn't care for him either, and after he'd punched them a time or two, neither did the big boys. But Harry'd saved him two years ago, saved him from, from, well, cold, and a starving, gnawing emptiness that still made him shake uncomfortably. He gave the tea another stir.
Harry'd saved him. He tiptoed upstairs, considered knocking, but fear of a certain object that Harry owned prevented Dudley from risking his wrath, even with tepid tea. He set the cup down instead and beat a quick retreat before Harry caught him out. A cup of tea in the morning, anyone'd enjoy that. And Harry was family, so. Well, so he ought to have a cup of tea.
Title: Broken Glass
Word Count: 316
Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing and goats.
Funny about families, when you thought about them, which Aberforth tried to avoid; since an incident involving Albus's nose several decades earlier, he'd pretended to himself that he was an only child. It was easier that way, pretending only passing acquaintance with Hogwarts's headmaster. One could avoid awkward questions about what was Albus up to these days, still holding out for Minister next election cycle, still plotting away up there in the castle? Aberforth had given up long ago saying he'd really no idea, sorry, and instead generally grunted, an answer that endeared him to no one but goats, who bleated affirmatively. Then, who did Aberforth want to impress but goats?
Not Albus, he thought, staring ferociously at the mirror. The long-ago failure of barnyard spells to impress his elder brother was no longer painful, just a bit ridiculous, as see which one of them had survived to drink another pint, and which of them had bitten it in a most dramatic plummet a month earlier?
He eyed his inheritance with suspicion; Albus had never given him (nor anyone else save too-pretty Gellert) a gift that wasn't attached to Albus's scheming with giant-sized strings. "What do you do, explode if I do anything to make me resemble you less?" he asked the mirror, which glinted, empty. "A way for you to communicate from beyond the grave, then? Give last-minute instructions, plan a final suicide mission? Thanks, no." The mirror was still, maddeningly, empty, and Aberforth determined that it was best banished, like a lifetime of birthday presents, to rot in the dungheap, when he caught a glimpse of a very familiar scar that overhung two bright, surprised green eyes. Aberforth blinked and jumped aside; there was no way in Merlin's England he was getting involved in the Potter project.
"Damn you, Albus, the answer is still no." Unfortunate, really, about families; you simply couldn't shake them.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Featured Characters: Dudley Dursley and Aberforth Dumbledore
Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing and goats.
Spoilers/Timeline: Deathly Hallows
Disclaimer: JKR not me.
Notes: For a hogwarts_elite challenge. The prompt was "write two 250 - 500 word ficlets that show the same scene from a Harry Potter book from the perspective of two characters who are not Harry." It won its meet! \o/
Summary: It is universally true about families --
Wordcount: 626 altogether.
Title: Cup of Tea
Word Count: 310
Rating: PG
Funny about families, when you thought about them, which Dudley tried to avoid; since a certain lipsticked letter from his mum had been nicked and shown round his and the upper classes at Smeltings, he preferred to avoid remembering that at home he was Duddykins, had a mum who was more generous with kisses than with sweets, a dad you didn't want to cross, and a cousin, well, a cousin.
It was Dudley's cousin, locked upstairs in Dudley's second bedroom, who'd got him thinking about family this morning. Harry was family, though you couldn't tell it to look at him; he wasn't big like Dudley, but he'd none of Mum's boniness, either, and he certainly didn't share her attitude towards food (if she knew all the sweets Harry snuck behind locked doors! And he wasn't a growing boy, either -- seemed never to get any taller than Dudley's chest) or towards Dudley himself.
He dropped a second sugar cube into Harry's teacup, then, idly, a third, and stirred. It was that last thought that was buzzing at him. Harry didn't care for Dudley, and that stood to reason; the small boys at school didn't care for him either, and after he'd punched them a time or two, neither did the big boys. But Harry'd saved him two years ago, saved him from, from, well, cold, and a starving, gnawing emptiness that still made him shake uncomfortably. He gave the tea another stir.
Harry'd saved him. He tiptoed upstairs, considered knocking, but fear of a certain object that Harry owned prevented Dudley from risking his wrath, even with tepid tea. He set the cup down instead and beat a quick retreat before Harry caught him out. A cup of tea in the morning, anyone'd enjoy that. And Harry was family, so. Well, so he ought to have a cup of tea.
Title: Broken Glass
Word Count: 316
Rating: PG-13 for mild swearing and goats.
Funny about families, when you thought about them, which Aberforth tried to avoid; since an incident involving Albus's nose several decades earlier, he'd pretended to himself that he was an only child. It was easier that way, pretending only passing acquaintance with Hogwarts's headmaster. One could avoid awkward questions about what was Albus up to these days, still holding out for Minister next election cycle, still plotting away up there in the castle? Aberforth had given up long ago saying he'd really no idea, sorry, and instead generally grunted, an answer that endeared him to no one but goats, who bleated affirmatively. Then, who did Aberforth want to impress but goats?
Not Albus, he thought, staring ferociously at the mirror. The long-ago failure of barnyard spells to impress his elder brother was no longer painful, just a bit ridiculous, as see which one of them had survived to drink another pint, and which of them had bitten it in a most dramatic plummet a month earlier?
He eyed his inheritance with suspicion; Albus had never given him (nor anyone else save too-pretty Gellert) a gift that wasn't attached to Albus's scheming with giant-sized strings. "What do you do, explode if I do anything to make me resemble you less?" he asked the mirror, which glinted, empty. "A way for you to communicate from beyond the grave, then? Give last-minute instructions, plan a final suicide mission? Thanks, no." The mirror was still, maddeningly, empty, and Aberforth determined that it was best banished, like a lifetime of birthday presents, to rot in the dungheap, when he caught a glimpse of a very familiar scar that overhung two bright, surprised green eyes. Aberforth blinked and jumped aside; there was no way in Merlin's England he was getting involved in the Potter project.
"Damn you, Albus, the answer is still no." Unfortunate, really, about families; you simply couldn't shake them.