Work Text:
Rose Dursley
Hermione’s blood ran cold upon reading the name of the Muggle born she was to pay a visit to as a Hogwarts Professor. She imagined a scared little girl with ill-fitting clothes, sleeping in the broom cupboard, and crying herself to sleep as she wondered why everyone hated her, why she was a freak…
No. She couldn't wait for a formal meeting this summer if there was a child in danger. She wouldn't let history repeat itself. Checking the address, Hermione made her way there as quickly as magically possible, which was quite fast if she had to be honest.
Once there, she squinted at the man exiting the little cottage. He looked nothing like Harry had described, nor did he look like a younger version of his father whom Hermione had had the misfortune of meeting once. The address was correct, so was the name on the letterbox, and the man she was now following was about the right age, but he was as far from an overweight bully as one could possibly imagine with his athletic build and laugh lines clear on his face.
Appearances couldn't be trusted however, and she had yet to find Rose. So she stalked her prey. An errand here and there, commute, then work all morning in a gym called Big D, followed by a quick lunch on a bench outside in the sun… quite ordinary really. But after that, he hurried into another building full of offices and she lost him.
“Drat,” she muttered.
She was going to have to comb through the whole building if she wanted to find out what nefarious deed he was up to. With a sigh, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself and methodically checked every office on every floor. It took her a while to find the bulky frame of her target, and her jaw dropped open when she realized what he was doing, before guilt washed over her for the more than unkind thoughts she’d been nursing about him.
Dudley Dursley, former bully of the Boy-Who-Lived, volunteered at an abused children hotline, and he was quite good at it from what she could hear. He had a soft voice and knew the right words to say; not to mention he was infinitely patient and understanding. She doubted she could do such a good job herself. As much as she loved to help people, children in particular, she would become too angry at what she would hear to be of any use. But she stayed at his side, listening covertly to one end of the conversation, completely entranced by this man she had been so adamant to hate.
He stayed for two hours before rushing off, just in time to pick up his daughter from school.
Rose.
A happy little girl in pigtails and a pretty dress, who ran into her father's arms with a squeal of delight at being picked off the ground and onto his shoulders.
When she followed them home, she told herself it was just to make sure it wasn't a front they put up in public. Did she feel like a creep spying on them in their very home? Quite frankly, yes. But she couldn't help it. She needed to know more about Harry’s estranged cousin. She waited, watched, laughed and waited some more, but Rose’s mother never walked into the picture. Only two coats hanging in the entrance, two plates for dinner, two seats on the sofa, two kisses good night, and then there was one.
Dudley Dursley didn't wear a wedding band, didn't have photos of his wife on the wall… He was the very picture of loneliness as he stared without seeing at his television screen.
She saw herself in him, she realized. Relieved in some measure that she hadn't suddenly turned in a peeping tom. She'd simply been drawn towards a kindred spirit. One molded by adversity, striving for change, needing to help the less fortunate and crushed by loneliness despite a rather full life. Cut from the same cloth, her mother would have said.
It was hard to believe, him being who he was, but she had been at his side all day and there was no denying the obvious... nor the subtle nudges from her magic to reach towards him. She grimaced at the idea of soulmates. She had always mocked the very notion, and here she was contemplating it.
Reluctantly, she made her way towards the front door, but tripped on a photo album sticking out of a lower shelf. As she picked it up, a picture of Rose's face covered in chocolate greeted her. Curious, knowing she shouldn't, but unable to resist the temptation, she looked through it: Rose's birth, a blond woman looking exhausted but happy holding her, a formal family portrait, first Christmas with Harry's abominable Uncle and Aunt, first steps, a first birthday, the second, third… the chronicle of Rose's life. A perfect family.
A new birthday. The fourth, as the balloons boldly proclaimed, and a single picture of a levitating cake with horrified expressions all around. A blank page followed that picture and she turned it with trembling fingers. Rose at the zoo. Rose eating an ice-cream. Rose with a butterfly on her nose. Rose running in the grass. Rose smiling. Always smiling, but always alone save a few school friends.
It wasn't hard to fill in the blanks. Hermione carefully put the photo album back and left. Tomorrow was Sunday. A good day for a visit from a Hogwarts Professor.
Now, she just had to find a way to apologize to Dudley for spying on him, and figure out how to tell Harry she intended to court his cousin...