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He climbs the tree slowly, the bark cutting tiny divots into his palms. Making sure his feet are secure against the trunk, where makeshift steps were created long ago, and on branches, he heaves himself higher, knowing the strength of the giant tree. The large branch he decides will make a good seat is high enough to see into the second floor of the house. Through one of the windows, he sees two bodies in a bed - one blond, the other dark-haired. They’re still asleep thankfully and are both completely still.
With a sigh, Dudley settles onto the large branch. This spot has been his safe space all summer, affording him some semblance of privacy and solitude. It’s been the one place where he can forget the troubles back home, can pretend his parents have only sent him three letters in three months - all of which say the same thing, and even lets him act like his uncle’s lectures don’t hurt him. It also lets him get away from the hot weather, though the temperature in London is nowhere near the terrible heat and humidity of Chicago, where sweat drips off his skin like rain drops, and he’s forced to watch his father’s face turn red over dinner.
God, his father , even his mother . He’d jumped at the chance to visit family in England, even if Dudley is sure the invitation was more forced and everyone was surprised he’d said yes. Once upon a time, his mother and aunt had a falling out and exchanged holiday and birthday cards for the past two decades, so it’s not like their families are close. But he’d needed to get away from the constant barrage of questions about his final year of high school and his plans for college. His mother keeps pushing him about Homecoming and does he need a tuxedo or a suit and “Are you taking Olivia? I haven’t seen her and you don’t want to choose from the leftovers.” He still hasn’t told her his last relationship ended when Olivia’s ex came back to town after his first year at Arizona and she’d dropped Dudley like a bad habit.
His father isn’t much better. It’s Early Admissions this and Legacy that. If he has to hear “I can contact so-and-so to make admissions easier, son, if you need it.” And his dad’s tone always suggests he’ll need it. But he doesn’t. Dudley isn’t the stupid bully he was when they first moved to America, when he had trouble adjusting and fell in with the wrong type of crowd by the ripe old age of 13. He’s grown up since then. He had to.
The front door of the house interrupts Dudley’s walk down memory lane, and he watches his aunt and uncle walk out. Both are dressed for work - Uncle James in a police uniform, Aunt Lily in a smart skirt suit which means meetings at the hospital. His eyes follow them as they kiss and separate into two cars, driving off. Their cars disappear down the street, none the wiser that their nephew is sitting on the giant sycamore in their front lawn.
Dudley doesn’t care that they don’t notice him, not really.
Popping in a set of headphones, Dudley thumbs through his old iPod to find something to calm his mind. He can’t help but smirk when heavy drums and loud bass pumps into his ears. It’s not what most people would call relaxing, but the harsh sounds help his mind focus on the day. His head falls back to lean against the trunk, while his hands reach down and behind to secure himself. With the sunlight beginning to make its way through the leaves, his eyes shut.
It’s easy to get lost in the harsh sounds and wailing voices of his preferred music. He goes through his mental checklist for the day, something he learned in counseling and while doing community service back home. He mouths the items on the list until something hits him in the face. His eyes pop open to see a stuffed white owl in his lap.
“What the -”
Dudley yanks his headphones out and looks down to see a girl around his age staring up at him, hands on her hips, with her brows drawn down in a suspicious look.
“Uh, hi,” he says. “Can I help you?”
“Who are you?” Her tone is suspicious, her hands propped against her waist in closed fists, a phone in one of them. “Just so you know, I’ve called the owner of this house.”
“Uh -”
“You are trespassing .”
“I don’t know who you -”
“I live next door.” She lifts an arm to point at the nearly identical house next to the Potter home. “And I’ve never seen you before.”
Dudley frowns at her. “So you saw a stranger and thought you’d confront him? What if I were dangerous?”
“Well, you’re up in a tree, so how dangerous can you be to me?”
Dudley takes a deep breath and jumps down, keeping his knees bent to cushion his leap, and rolls forward when he lands. Before he can get up, though, there’s a foot on his chest and he realizes that maybe he’s the stupid one in danger.
“Listen, lady, I don’t know who you are but -”
“I’m Hermione Granger, and like I said, I just called Mr. Potter and he’s on his way.”
“Uncle James didn’t leave that long ago. He’ll be pissed he had to come home for no reason.”
“Uncle?” She blinks at him. “I didn’t know Harry had a cousin.”
“Big surprise. He doesn’t talk about me unless he has to.” He lets out a sigh. “Look, can you just let me up?”
“No, not until Mr. Potter gets here.”
As though she’s summoned him from thin air, a familiar gray car pulls into the driveway. James Potter steps out of the driver’s side, tense, hand near his hip. He pauses when he sees the two of them standing in the front yard.
“Dudley?”
“Hey, Uncle James.”
Hermione turns her upper body, but keeps her foot atop Dudley. “So you know him? He’s really your nephew?”
“Yes,” James replies slowly. At his words, Hermione reluctantly removes her foot from Dudley’s chest and watches as her next door neighbor walks over and squats down. “You hurt?”
“Uh, no?” Dudley sits up, brushes a hand down the front of his shirt.
“I need to call someone to check you out?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why the hell are you still down there?”
“Well, this girl here’s a little scary and I thought staying down here might be safer.”
“You think women are scary?” Hermione can’t help but ask.
“Well, my Aunt Lily scares the heck out of Uncle James, so it’s a safe bet.”
“Cheeky,” Hermione says with a laugh. “I like it.”
James mutters under his breath for a moment before he speaks louder. “Well, glad nothing is amiss here. He turns to Hermione. “Maybe be sure of something before you call the police.”
She scowls at him. There was an unknown boy in a tree outside your home. You don’t think that’s a legitimate cause for concern?”
“He’s harmless.”
“Hello, I’m right here,” Dudley interjects.
Hermione waves a hand. “How was I to know he was harmless? He could have been another -”
The front door opens, this time to reveal a tall blond rubbing sleep from his eyes. He pauses when he notices the crowd, looking from one person to the next. “What’s happening here, then?”
“He could have been another Draco,” Hermione finishes her thought from earlier with a shake of her head.
“Granger,” Draco drawls. “Harry’s still in bed -”
“ That is my cue to leave,” James mumbles. “Can’t believe I have to deal with this.” He’s still muttering under his breath as he walks back to his car, slides in, and leaves once more.
“Love riling him up. An older version of Harry with that look on his face.” Draco shakes himself out of his thoughts and goes to Hermione, where he leans down to peck a kiss onto her cheek. “Lunch later, yeah? You can tell me all about Paris and why you chose that wretched city over me.”
“I chose a vacation in Paris over staying here with your whiny self,” she corrects. “But yes, I’ll ring you.”
Draco grabs a bike from the side of the house and makes his way down the street. When Hermione and Dudley are alone again, she turns to find him holding the plush owl. He brushes some dirt off of it before handing it to her, noticing the blush that stains her cheek as she takes it. She plucks at one of its wings.
“It’s cute,” Dudley finally says, if only to break the silence.
“Hmm?” Hermione is still avoiding his gaze. “Oh. Harry gave it to me when we were younger. He has -”
“A matching one,” finishes Dudley. “I’ve seen it.”
She doesn’t want to get into the dynamics she once had with Harry, not this morning. “So you’re visiting? From America?”
“Yeah. Been here all summer. How come I’ve never seen you before?”
“I just got back last night from vacation with my parents. Went straight away after I returned from uni. Your name’s Dudley?”
He lifts a hand to the back of his neck, almost shyly. “Yeah, that’s me. Bit of a weird name, I suppose.”
Hermione shrugs. “There are weirder things, I’m sure.” She hesitates before giving him a small smile. “I’m going to go get Harry. We’re supposed to grab lunch, but… Maybe I’ll see you before you leave?”
“That would be cool.” Dudley nods and watches as she gives a little wave and disappears inside his cousin’s house. “Yeah, that would be really cool.”