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Title: In Search of Normal
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: T
Genre: Gen
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Dudley and Harry come to terms with their childhood.
AN: Written for this prompt.
“Our childhood was weird,” he says, dropping into the seat opposite his cousin. There’s a pint already waiting for him on the table, and he takes a sip as soon as he’s slipped out of his jacket. Harry – distracted by mopping up the beer he’d just sprayed out of his nose – doesn’t answer.
“Alright?” Dudley asks him.
“Fine, fine,” Harry replies. He wipes his face with a paper serviette. “Fuck that stings. Right. What?”
“Our childhood,” Dudley says. “Was weird.”
Harry gives him one of those long, intense looks that remind him that his cousin’s some sort of magical cop now; one of the ones that says he’s waiting for either a punch line or a confession. Dudley’s edging towards the second option. What he’s been thinking about lately isn’t all that funny.
His parents loved him. He knows that. He also knows – especially now he’s a parent in his own right – that they were going about things the wrong way. He can’t really blame them for being frightened. The few experiences he’s had with magic haven’t exactly left him all that comfortable with it, what with the pig tail and the evil toffee and the demon thing. But by trying to protect him the way they had, they’d…yeah. Turned into some not-very-good people.
“What clued you in?” Harry asks him. His voice is quiet and a little strained, but he’s the only one who’ll really understand what Dudley’s talking about. Kate’s fabulous and he doesn’t deserve her, but she’s been highly sceptical of his parents ever since they first met, and he’s finding it hard to defend them right now.
“Lots of stuff,” he says. “I mean, you.” He waves a hand in Harry’s direction, and his cousin snorts again – but this time without the beer. “What they did to you was bullshit.”
“They were scared,” Harry points out, and that – that right there – is why Dudley’s talking to him about it rather than Kate. Because Harry knows that there was a reason behind it, even if the reason got obscured by all the crap that built up over the years. “And Aunt Petunia was jealous, I think. Well, of Mum she was anyway.”
Dudley hadn’t known that, but it makes sense. He’d been jealous of Harry a couple of times – he still is on occasion. Magic sounds bloody wicked, if you’re one of the few people who can actually use it.
“Right,” he says. “But it’s not just that. It’s…Rosie’s into Disney at the moment.”
Harry’s eyebrows promptly vanish into his hairline.
“And there’s all these stories and films and stuff like that, and they’ve been kicking around since we were kids – hell, the stories for centuries – and until Rosie decided they were in, I’d never heard of them.”
“Didn’t think you were the Cinderella type, Big D,” Harry says, and his lips twist into a shit-eating grin that’s a total defence mechanism. Dudley flips him off.
“Ha ha, funny,” he says. “How do you know about Cinderella anyway?”
“Lily,” Harry replies. “She’s fascinated by the idea that people can’t just turn pumpkins into carriages.” He rolls his eyes fondly and shakes his head. “You’re right though,” he says after a moment. “It was weird.”
Dudley hums and takes another sip of beer. They order dinner – steak and ale pie and a roast beef – and another couple of drinks, and when Harry rejoins him Dudley gets to the real point of the matter. The point that has Kate furious with his mother, and giving him the side-eye as if she expects him to explain it when he can’t even begin to.
“So,” he says, “Rosie’s into Disney, yeah?”
“Uhuh.”
“She likes dressing up as the characters and waving a wand around and pretending she’s a magical fairy princess half the time.” He offers Harry a faint grin. “Of course, the other half, she’s waving a plastic bow and arrow around and pretending to make deals with witches to turn us into bears.”
“Blimey,” Harry says, utterly deadpan. “Bet Aunt Petunia loved that.”
Dudley winces, because that’s exactly it. That’s it, and his mother suddenly shrieking about magic not existing is something his wife can’t understand, let alone his six year old daughter. Dudley’s none too pleased with her reaction himself – Kate refuses to have her in the house now – because while his childhood is something he’s coming to terms with, he’s not going to have the same…mania being shoved down his daughter’s throat if he can help it.
He wants his daughter to have a normal childhood. One with all the magic she desires.
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: T
Genre: Gen
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Dudley and Harry come to terms with their childhood.
AN: Written for this prompt.
“Our childhood was weird,” he says, dropping into the seat opposite his cousin. There’s a pint already waiting for him on the table, and he takes a sip as soon as he’s slipped out of his jacket. Harry – distracted by mopping up the beer he’d just sprayed out of his nose – doesn’t answer.
“Alright?” Dudley asks him.
“Fine, fine,” Harry replies. He wipes his face with a paper serviette. “Fuck that stings. Right. What?”
“Our childhood,” Dudley says. “Was weird.”
Harry gives him one of those long, intense looks that remind him that his cousin’s some sort of magical cop now; one of the ones that says he’s waiting for either a punch line or a confession. Dudley’s edging towards the second option. What he’s been thinking about lately isn’t all that funny.
His parents loved him. He knows that. He also knows – especially now he’s a parent in his own right – that they were going about things the wrong way. He can’t really blame them for being frightened. The few experiences he’s had with magic haven’t exactly left him all that comfortable with it, what with the pig tail and the evil toffee and the demon thing. But by trying to protect him the way they had, they’d…yeah. Turned into some not-very-good people.
“What clued you in?” Harry asks him. His voice is quiet and a little strained, but he’s the only one who’ll really understand what Dudley’s talking about. Kate’s fabulous and he doesn’t deserve her, but she’s been highly sceptical of his parents ever since they first met, and he’s finding it hard to defend them right now.
“Lots of stuff,” he says. “I mean, you.” He waves a hand in Harry’s direction, and his cousin snorts again – but this time without the beer. “What they did to you was bullshit.”
“They were scared,” Harry points out, and that – that right there – is why Dudley’s talking to him about it rather than Kate. Because Harry knows that there was a reason behind it, even if the reason got obscured by all the crap that built up over the years. “And Aunt Petunia was jealous, I think. Well, of Mum she was anyway.”
Dudley hadn’t known that, but it makes sense. He’d been jealous of Harry a couple of times – he still is on occasion. Magic sounds bloody wicked, if you’re one of the few people who can actually use it.
“Right,” he says. “But it’s not just that. It’s…Rosie’s into Disney at the moment.”
Harry’s eyebrows promptly vanish into his hairline.
“And there’s all these stories and films and stuff like that, and they’ve been kicking around since we were kids – hell, the stories for centuries – and until Rosie decided they were in, I’d never heard of them.”
“Didn’t think you were the Cinderella type, Big D,” Harry says, and his lips twist into a shit-eating grin that’s a total defence mechanism. Dudley flips him off.
“Ha ha, funny,” he says. “How do you know about Cinderella anyway?”
“Lily,” Harry replies. “She’s fascinated by the idea that people can’t just turn pumpkins into carriages.” He rolls his eyes fondly and shakes his head. “You’re right though,” he says after a moment. “It was weird.”
Dudley hums and takes another sip of beer. They order dinner – steak and ale pie and a roast beef – and another couple of drinks, and when Harry rejoins him Dudley gets to the real point of the matter. The point that has Kate furious with his mother, and giving him the side-eye as if she expects him to explain it when he can’t even begin to.
“So,” he says, “Rosie’s into Disney, yeah?”
“Uhuh.”
“She likes dressing up as the characters and waving a wand around and pretending she’s a magical fairy princess half the time.” He offers Harry a faint grin. “Of course, the other half, she’s waving a plastic bow and arrow around and pretending to make deals with witches to turn us into bears.”
“Blimey,” Harry says, utterly deadpan. “Bet Aunt Petunia loved that.”
Dudley winces, because that’s exactly it. That’s it, and his mother suddenly shrieking about magic not existing is something his wife can’t understand, let alone his six year old daughter. Dudley’s none too pleased with her reaction himself – Kate refuses to have her in the house now – because while his childhood is something he’s coming to terms with, he’s not going to have the same…mania being shoved down his daughter’s throat if he can help it.
He wants his daughter to have a normal childhood. One with all the magic she desires.
