Chapter Text
Greed was a sinister thing. Once you got the taste of something you couldn’t possibly have forever, or something you weren’t destined to own, it would still linger in the back of your mind. Like the tempting taste of a vast feast, the lingering fragrance that refused to leave you alone.
Andromeda would apologise for the excess use of food metaphors, but her growling stomach — considering the last they’d eaten was the morning breakfast at Hogwarts, two days ago — did little to help her get her mind off the thoughts of Hogwarts, its comfort, its homely aura, and well – food.
“Treacle Tart.”
“Shut up, Andromeda, please, I beg you.”
Andromeda laughed, a maniac, evil thing. “Nope.” She tutted, “If I suffer, you have got to, too.”
“Fine, have it your way.” He sat up, throwing his pillow behind him, and leaning against the wall.
The malnourishment hadn’t rusted his fast movements.
“Wild Rice Soup.”
Andromeda gasped, this was foul. This was the lowest of the lows, this was—
“Noodle Soup.”
Harry looked at her with his mouth open, disbelief all over his face, “How dare you.”
Andromeda couldn’t resist a cheeky giggle. Even with her wand locked away, and no letters from her friends, Andromeda felt at peace, knowing Harry was here with her. He could be cross at her for the food lures, but not for long.
He sighed, a hand swiping at the beads of sweat forming across his forehead, “A week looks so long, doesn’t it?”
Andromeda nodded, leaning against the wall, “Too long,” she shut her eyes, listening to the quiet chirp of birds heralding their mothers to come back home, “Can’t believe it was just two days ago when we came back.”
“And I am desperate to get back if I can.” Andromeda smiled sadly, “You and me both, Harry, you and me.” Harry stepped down from the bed and dug into their stash of sweets, which they had laden with stasis charm, a token from their friends. He took out a cauldron cake, “You want some?”
She nodded, the sweet was leaving a tangy taste in her mouth and she did not want to leave her room every time to wash it off, and have the misfortune of running into any of the Dursleys.
“Not even some?” Harry’s tone had taken a worried edge, “You’ve not eaten anything since last night…”
“I’m good,” she assured him. It didn’t in any way, assure him, but he didn’t offer her the cake after that. Hedwig hooted in her cage, Eulalia somehow had fallen asleep in hers, so that was one less of a nuisance — Uncle Vernon’s words, not hers. Andromeda sighed again, she missed the scaly touch of India coiled around her arms. Luckily, neither India nor Glitz had been stubborn and went with Draco to stay for a week at his Manor. If anything, Harry and Andromeda had felt torn giving away their beloved familiars to their friend.
“We should’ve gotten their letter by now, right Harry?” She asked him, interrupting him mid-bite.
“Yeah…” he mused, eyes turning to the clear sky, “D’you reckon he burnt the letters?”
“Without gloating about it, and throwing a tantrum about how there’s a ‘ruddy bird from your freak school!’?” a bitter laugh bubbled unconsciously, “Nah, I don’t think so.”
Harry nodded solemnly, only to stop short as someone knocked on their door. That wasn’t the thing that stopped them, what stopped them was the hesitant way their door was knocked, as if asking for permission to enter their sacred domain.
And this was strange because no one knocked so gently. No one. Aunt Petunia’s knocks were sharp, followed by a taunt and a shrill yell if they didn’t listen to her first command. Uncle Vernon pounded on the door, nearly breaking it off the hinges, and that is if they weren’t already ready with an open door because of his warning screams at them. Dudley didn’t knock, he preferred to punch the door and yell their name. So this was very unexpected.
Hastily, Harry covered their stash and sat on the bed to make it appear like he wasn’t just enjoying a wizarding sweet.
Andromeda opened their door, and —
“Dudley?” Her voice betrayed her bewilderment. And if that wasn’t enough, Dudley had the gall to look apologetic and hesitant. Andromeda had noticed it, but clearly, not enough if this was surprising her right about now. She had noticed Dudley’s absent jibes, Piers had come, but there were no games of Harry Hunting, and she had noticed her cousin walking on eggshells around them, but that was it. That should have been a warning sign, but evidently, it hadn’t been enough to keep them alert.
“May I come in?” he asked softly, eyes downturned, which baffled them even more. He wasn’t meeting their eyes, either.
“Yeah, take a seat, shut the door behind you,” Harry instructed, shifting so that Andromeda could sit on the bed beside him, while Dudley huddled on the chair.
“I– er… I wanted to talk to you—” he sighed, “To you both.”
Unwittingly, Andromeda rolled her eyes, “What do you think you’re doing right now, Dudders?”
Dudley, instead of blowing up, flinched, before his voice lowered into a mumbled apology, “M’sorry.”
Harry frowned, staring at Andromeda. She knew the question circling in his head was the same as hers, ‘What was up with him’? Clearing his throat, he asked hesitantly, as if poking an irate rodent, “You alright Dudley?”
Dudley looked up, meeting their eyes — and she didn’t know who was more surprised, or horrified, Dudley, or them — and there were tears in his eyes, swimming to the brim, ready to spill. His voice was choked, as he asked a terrifying question they didn’t have an answer to, “Have I hurt you? Harry? Andromeda?”
Her heart screeched to a halt. What.
Harry stammered, fumbling to come up with the reply to that bizarre question, “Er– Dudley–”
Andromeda felt the cold flame of vindictiveness licking the pits of her stomach, and she grits out before she can gather her bearings, “Yes, Dudley, you have.” And once that was out, she couldn’t stop anymore, “Yes, Dudley, you have hurt us, so much.”
She got up, picked at Harry’s sleeve, and drew it up to his shoulder, pointing at a smattering of scars, big and small, all of which he had earned from the roughhousing involved within Dudley and his friends.
“Look at that, Dudley, you have hurt us, and we’ve got proof of it.” She drew her trousers to her knee, a longitudinal scar running along her calf. “Look at that, I got it when you tripped me and I got it from the tree branch.” He breathed in shakily, his shoulders hunched, yet his eyes tracked her movements. Harry held her hand, motioning her to stop. But something was raging inside her, growing exponentially every time the image of a different scar on Harry’s body flashed in her mind.
“Andy—” he hissed, “Don’t— Look at him!” Andromeda paid no heed to him and, for once, she revelled in her rebellion. She pulled up her trousers — the other leg this time — by their hems, and revealed the bite mark from Ripper, Aunt Marge’s bulldog. “Do you remember that, Dudley?” She didn’t shout, but her cousin’s face expressed that had she been yelling at him, it would’ve been kinder than what she was doing now, “Do you remember how you unleashed Ripper? How he chased after us, how he bit and how I got infected afterwards? How you piled chore after chore on Harry?”
That was maybe the last straw for Dudley, as he gave in to his guttural sobs, his chest heaved, and his face was buried in his hands.
“If I were to turn Harry’s head, and part his hair, I’d see a scar on his scalp, the one he got when you pushed him against the wall for not doing your homework, one that bled hard enough to stain my hands when I held him and tried to stop the bleeding.” She remembered that day with harrowing clarity. If she strained hard enough or closed her eyes tightly, she could almost reappear at the scene, with Harry’s head in her lap, hands bloody, her skirt dowsing in crimson alarmingly. She could hear her screams, to the nurse, to the teacher, to the bullies — because oh gods, her brother was bleeding so badly, and please, please help him, please—
Dudley lifted his head, and Andromeda would pity him — in the face of his teary eyes, red nose and blotchy face — if she hadn’t spent countless nights calming Harry from unbearable pain; nursing herself from injuries, wishing that they were as privileged as Dudley to have parents, but all she felt was relish as she delivered the match in the powder barrel, “But perpetrators hardly ever remember the pain and scars of their victims, do they?”
That was it. Like a flipped switch, it seemed, Dudley’s face crumbled, looking near disfigured as he started ugly sobbing, and mumbling words, that sounded an awful lot like, ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry—’. Andromeda had never seen him cry, so this was, fascinating, almost. How fat tears rolled down Dudley’s rosy cheeks, and then gently dripped to his hands, which were busy wiping the tears from his other eye. How his lashes acquired tear drops like morning dews. How relentlessly he gasped as if he was struggling for air.
“Dudley, hey—” Harry placated him, “It’s okay, take a deep breath, here—” Harry offered him a bottle of water he’d managed to fill up when Aunt Petunia wasn’t looking.
When Dudley had calmed down considerably, a couple of minutes later, Andromeda coughed semi-apologetically, looking for a tactful way to nudge the conversation in a new direction. Maybe she’d gone way too far? She didn’t feel like whatever she’d said was unreasonable. Cruelly and exaggeratedly? Perhaps. Unreasonable? No.
“Why the sudden question about your treatment?” He shuddered, and reluctantly, Harry patted his back, while shooting daggers at her. What! She was trying, it wasn’t her fault that Dudley wasn’t ready to face the truth.
“Erm… We had a seminar at school…”
“At Smeltings?” Harry’s question mirrored Andromeda’s surprise. Smeltings did not seem like the type of school to conduct seminars, especially not when it was the type to be so woefully conservative, as Uncle Vernon had remarked, waving the Smeltings cane, “For the troublemakers.” And who else fit the profile to the dot, if not Harry and Andromeda, with their contagious freakishness?
“What for?” Andromeda frowned, crossing her arms.
“Er— teachers and counsellors were called for an anti-bullying campaign, and all of us were made to attend.”
She found herself at a loss for words, much like Harry who was gaping, his jaw open in sheer wonder, “At Smeltings?” He asked again, confirming in case his ears might have played tricks on them. Dudley’s nod was met with a disbelieving laugh, from both of them.
“Blimey,” Harry chuckled, “Wonders just don’t cease, do they?”
“About damn time, I’d say,” Andromeda interjected, “What’d they say in there? Don’t tell me that, tell me why now, of all times?” At this, Dudley’s eyes filled with tears again, and he answered thickly, “We had a classmate of ours, he was being bullied by some of his seniors,” he stopped to wipe his tears, “He killed himself last week, they found him hanging…” he broke off, taking a deep breath and keeping his incoming sobs at bay.
So this was why Dudley felt like he had to apologise to them because he thought that they would harm themselves over what Dudley had done to them all these years.
“...they had the seminar, and they told us what bullying is, why it is bad, and what effects it can have on t-the v-vic…—”
“Victim.”
“Yeah, them.” He sucked in a shaky breath again, clutching his trousers.
“I’m sorry about your classmate, Dudley,” Harry said, softly, placing a hand on Dudley’s shoulder.
“What’d they tell you in there?” Andromeda asked, instead. He lowered his face, shame creeping up his face — evident by the flush of his neck and ears — like the morbid curiosity that prompted her to ask that question.
“They told us, the–the general stuff about what is bullying, w-what happens to people who are b–bullied, and how t-to spot if– if… if someone is being bullied.” He coughed weakly, before carrying on, “The c-counsellors told us that — that being bullied changes… the – the people– the vic-victims. For worse. It could lead to them hurt– hurting themselves, even… even as much as k–kill.. ki–”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it—” Harry attempted to comfort him, patting his back in an effort to make him feel like he was not within hostile territories.
“N–no.” he whispered, “I have to,” Dudley wiped his tears, “They said th-that sometimes… sometimes victims t–take extreme steps like– like Martin did. Like.. l-like kill themselves.” Had they been in a room that was slightly more busy or one that bustled with idle murmurs or chatters, Dudley would have been inaudible. But here, both Andromeda and Harry sat with bated breath to hear what their cousin had to say. It took him a lot to utter that word, and the sound of it — even to Dudley’s own ears — was so horrifying that he broke into a new episode of tears and hysteria.
If Andromeda hadn’t been feeling apologetic some moments ago, she was definitely feeling like it now. There was no doubt that this incident had a distressing effect on him. This explained everything about his behaviour since the past two days. The apathy, the absence of eye contact. The lack of bossing around, his lethargy, the way he walked around them as if they were wild animals who’d go feral if left unchained. It all made sense. What she had mistaken as his aloofness turned out to be his version of yearn for apology. Andromeda owed him that much, at the very least, her behaviour had been downright callous.
“I’m sorry about your friend.” She finally offered, and this time when Dudley looked up at her, it was Andromeda’s turn to not meet his eyes, instead she stared at Hedwig’s cage. Hedwig, who was sitting silently in her cage, Eulalia asleep in hers, now that she had no letters to carry.
If only one could carry or send mentally written letters. She wished to write to Neville, to Gabby, to Draco, to Hermione, to Daphne… But all those letters remained an unwritten draft in the back of her head, words fading in and out of consciousness, waiting to be given a form on the papers she couldn’t pick and write on.
She wondered why none of her friends had written them letters. Yes, it had only been two days, but Draco had written a letter to her on the first day of the holiday during Christmas. Were they bored of her? Tired with her mere presence around them, bogging them down like an invisible object, like an energy vampire.
But she felt the gentle scratch of the chocolate wrappers Blaise had given, the calligraphy pen from Draco peeked out from one of her jackets, Pansy’s watch on Harry’s hand, their presence was there. They wouldn’t have been, their worry wouldn’t have been palpable if they didn’t care.
Perhaps she should stop worrying about that…
“When they showed us the documentaries, I felt s-so.. So… angry at myself.” Dudley spoke over the static in her head, and she turned her attention back to her cousin. He helf his head in his hands again, head bowed as if he was making himself look as small as possible.
“I couldn’t get y-your faces out of my– my head.” He sniffed, “It gave me a headache. And– and then I asked Piers that where his – his cousin stays whe-when he’s h-home, and — and h-he said, — his guestroom, and– and…” Dudley burst out crying. Oh.
Oh, God. Did he tell Piers that they lived in the cupboard under the staircase? If he had, Harry and Andromeda would be in trouble faster than they could say magic. They didn’t live there anymore, if that helped. Uncle Vernon had told them to shift from the cupboard to Dudley’s old bedroom because he needed a space to thrust their trunks in.
“You didn’t… tell Piers that we lived i-in.. The cupboard, …right?” Andromeda grimaced. If he head, they would need a hell of a miracle to save them.
Luckily, Dudley shook his head. “I- I couldn’t!” he sobbed, “I’ve been h-horrible to you, and — and…” “You’ve hardly been worse than Piers, Dudley.” Harry consoled, and she would’ve smacked Harry if he were somewhere else. Instead, laughing ruefully, Andromeda added, “Yeah, nothing worse, you just held Harry when Piers rained punches down on your cousin.”
Harry glared at her, shooting her look that clearly said, “Shut up.” but Andromeda was having none of it.
“No, Harry, I won’t shut up just because Big Bully here finally understands that his actions have consequences.” Harry’s shoulder slumped, because she knew that he knew that now that Andromeda had started off with her tirade, she won’t be stopping until Dudley begged on his knees for forgiveness.
“You’ve got scars on your body from the ‘games’ he played, Harry, and so have I, but suddenly, just because something happened to his classmate — yeah it is a sad and horrifying thing that happened and should not have happened, not to him or to anybody, for that matter — the result of the very same thing, that Dudders here has been doing to you for as long as I can remember, you expect me to pipe down and shut up, because Dudley here can sob and cry, and we throw a pity party at him?” Andromeda balled up her fists, lest she let the frigidness within her — growing increasingly by every passing second — out at Dudley. “I apologised for being rude to you without knowing the full detail of it, but I’m not going to apologise for not coddling you like Harry is.” She felt another snide chuckle rise up her throat, and that condescending sound surprised them all, “Honestly, I’m surprised that you realised from this event alone, and it did not need one of us winding up dead for you to wake up and process the extent of your actions.”
Andromeda regretted her words not just because Dudley leapt to his feet only to fall on his knees before her, crying like his life depended on it, begging her to not even utter those words ever again — but also because, Harry turned to look at her with an expression she dreaded. The one that made her feel like she was being assessed. Like he was looking through her, like he could tell what was going on in her head right now. The thing going on in her head right now was a frantic repetition of two words, he knew.
Like he peered within her and could look at the farthest bottom corner of her trunk that housed her precious—
No. It can’t be. It can’t.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” Dudley was babbling, and hesitantly, Andromeda grasped his shoulder with unsteady hands.
“It’s okay.” It came out awkwardly, and she cringed inwardly. That was so stupid. She was just yelling at him how it was not okay and the first thing she says to him is that, ‘it’s okay’. Good lord.
“It’s not,” Dudley sniffled, “It’s not okay—”
“It’s not.” Harry agreed gently, a sad smile flitting across his face, and in that moment, Andromeda was awed by him. The saintly way he simply forgot the things he had faced at the hands of Dudley, all those memories vapourising in the face of giving him comfort.
She envied him, and at the same time, looked up to him, looked up to his patience and humility.
Dudley sat back down on the chair, and asked them a question to which she felt she had no answer. It was happening quite frequently today, wasn’t it?
“Do you two feel like you want to h-hurt yourself?”
He didn’t say the words exactly, but all of them understood what he wanted to say. Andromeda had no answer.
“No, Dudley, we don’t.” Harry’s answer had a conviction that Andromeda wanted to fake, but she had a hunch Harry would understand. Taking a chance, she lied, “Of course not, Dudley.”
Once again, Harry’s eyes seemed like an uncanny interrogation to her, as he looked deep in her eyes. One mirror staring at the other and peering at their demon, figuring out which one was real and which one was just a shroud hiding the true eldritch horror beneath.
“I’m sorry—”
Andromeda was sure that his streams of apologies were going to ring in her ear when she went to sleep, at this rate. It was like an animal keening in pain, except Andromeda found it hard to empathise because she couldn’t count how many times they had been on the receiving end of it, just to face more brutal blows from Dudley.
“I’m sorry, Androme—”
“Shhh, it’s okay, listen to me.” She interrupted his hysterical blubbering, clearing her throat, when she knew she had his attention, Andromeda began, “We, er- have a Professor at uhhh… Hogwarts.” Her voice was not a whisper when she said Hogwarts, it showed just how much they had changed within this hour itself. Their dynamic had undergone a metamorphosis so significant, she doubted there even existed a dynamic between them. The unsteady sand stood between Dudley, Harry and her, him on one end, and them on the other. This interaction had solidified it into concrete stretches for him to cross.
“His name is Professor Snape.” Harry added, “He is nice,” that might just be the most bizarre way to describe the potions master, “Not.. not in the way you’d expect him to be, but he is. He listens to us, talks us through our problems. And he’s dead talented.”
Andromeda smiled, yes he was. And they wouldn’t have to stay here for a minute longer when the week was over. They’d go to live with him. It wouldn’t have been possible if Professor Snape hadn’t fixed the situation for them. If he hadn’t been conscious enough to find out and make an effort to place them in a better situation.
Although she’d be curious of how this …thing with Dudley would change things for them at Privet Drive, she was more excited of how much things would be better for them at Professor Snape’s.
They’d go to meet Draco, sleepover at Hermione’s place, Gabby would come over, and Ron would join them for a picnic. She was looking forward to it.
“Something happened back at Hogwarts… with er- my roommate—” although Millie wasn’t her roommate anymore, there was no other way to describe what she was then, “She is my friend now, but back then, she did something which wasn’t… nice.” She settled for that, that would help sending the point across.
“When Professor Snape found out, he was angry, and he told her to apologise.” And Millie had, she had also put in her effort to extend an olive branch and fix things, something she hoped Dudley would understand, “She did apologise, but Professor said something to her, but it was a really.. uh— good thing, that he told us…” she exhaled, and looked at Dudley, who was staring at her intently, tears now subsided to dews on his eyelashes, “‘There is no bigger indicator of reformation, save for your actions.’”
Gently, Andromeda added, “We might have agreed, or accepted your apology, but your behaviour from now onwards will truly indicate the extent of your change.” Noticing Dudley’s crumpling face, Harry went for damage control, “Acknowledging your mistake was the first step Dudley, but to show that you have turned into a new lead, your actions are enough, and I’m sure you’ll follow through, won’t you, Dudley?”
Dudley nodded eagerly, like an overgrown puppy, and it was comical to the point it was nearly pitiful, Harry was the younger out of him and Dudley, and here he was, cajoling his older cousin. Funny how environment changed you for the better or worse. And then comes drastic accidents, knocking down the façade of normalcy, exposing you to the horror you weren’t ready to face.
Their gentle chatters drowned down to background static, and Andromeda turned to face the golden rays setting down on the far horizon.
A cardinal and two crows sat on the overlooking tree, chittering among each other.
When the wind blew, it carried an unspoken promise of change.