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The echo of the door slamming rang around the room.
Dudley sat at his kitchen table, watching Ella through the window as she strode away down the street.
It was February, and it seemed as though the whole of London was covered in a thin sheet of glass. The weather had been particularly gruelling the past few weeks, leaving nothing safe from the snowfall and frost that covered every inch of chilled earth.
She would be back soon, he thought. There was no way anyone could reasonably stay outside for longer than thirty minutes at this time of day. Not to mention the fact that, in her fit of rage, Ella hadn’t remembered to retrieve her coat before she left the house.
It was with this in mind that Dudley decided to simply wait for her return. He boiled the kettle, read an article in yesterday’s newspaper about a property in Falmouth, and stayed in the kitchen for several hours.
Once it had reached ten o’clock, Dudley began to entertain the idea that perhaps, Ella would not be returning that evening.
He drummed his fingers on the counter as he made a third cup of tea, contemplating what to do about the situation, when all of a sudden the landline began to ring.
He lifted the phone off the hook, “Hello?”
“Dudley,” said Ella’s voice, crackling with static, “I’m done. I can’t deal with you anymore.”
Dudley froze, mouth going dry, “You…what?”
“You need to be out of the house by this evening, or I’m calling my lawyer. Let me know where you’re staying and we can settle everything else on Monday.”
Then, the line beeped, and she was gone.
Dudley began to panic. He had nowhere to go.
It was so shocking, so unexpected, that he could never possibly have planned for such an eventuality. He was considering calling her back, and begging her to stay with him, but decided it was pointless. If she had so readily made that decision, she had surely thought it over before now.
He ran through his options in his head.
All of his friends lived up North, so staying with them would mean hours of driving, by which point it would already be morning. His parents were still living in Mallorca, having been relocated there after Harry had forced them all to move because of his ‘Dark Wizard’ antics.
Suddenly, it dawned on him. Harry.
Despite the fact his cousin lived in London, Dudley had never been to visit him.
He knew his address, because for whatever reason Harry had insisted upon mailing it to him in an invitation for dinner, but Dudley hadn’t gone. It was only natural not to attend, he knew it would be unbearably awkward and it was probably just an excuse to finally get one up on him. He hadn’t had a reason.
Now, however, looking through the drawers in the kitchen bureau, it seemed like his best option.
He pulled out the crumpled slip of paper upon which Harry had scrawled his road and flat number, then promptly shoved it in his pocket and ran upstairs to pack.
•••
With the bare necessities hastily tucked away in a duffle bag, Dudley found himself driving through Kensington only an hour later.
He was surprised by the location - he hadn’t realised Harry lived in such an expensive area. Never once had he bothered to check what his cousin had been doing in his years since they had lived together, so perhaps he had become a barrister or whatever the wizard equivalent was.
Whatever he did, he obviously had money.
A few minutes of driving later, Dudley pulled up outside a handsome Victorian building. He checked the note twice, reading and rereading the address, but he was certain this was the right place.
On the back of the letter, it had said to go up the metal staircase around the back, to ‘avoid the muggle neighbours’, whatever that meant.
So, he dragged his duffle bag out of the car, then slammed the door and locked it. He quickly made his way around the building, then stomped up the stairs, lugging his heavy bag all the way up. Once he reached the top, he rapped his knuckles smartly against the door, hearing the sound of movement on the other side.
Footsteps approached, and Dudley held his breath, unsure what to say given that he hadn’t seen Harry for so many years. Not to mention their rocky friendship in childhood - if you could even call it that.
He was saved from any sort of planned response, however, when someone opened the door.
It was not Harry.
“Oh, hello?” said an attractive, blonde man.
He was tall, perhaps even taller than Dudley, and had a cold, pointed sort of face.
“Erm - does Harry live here? Harry Potter?”
He briefly wondered if Harry had given him the wrong address as some sort of joke, when the blonde man kept talking.
“Oh, yes, he’s at work now though. Who are you? Harry didn’t tell me you were coming over.”
The man surveyed him with a look of suspicion, and Dudley wondered if he was about to grow a pig’s tail, like he had when he was eleven and he had encountered a wizard who didn’t like him very much.
“Oh, er, yeah, I didn’t tell him, sorry. It was a bit unexpected,” he replied, trying for politeness, “I’m Dudley.”
The blonde man looked him up and down one last time, before seeming to come to a decision.
“Well, if he gave you the address, clearly you’re welcome here. I’m Draco.”
He offered his hand, and Dudley took it. They stood awkwardly for a moment, before Draco turned and said, “So, do you want to come in?” he stepped aside, gesturing into the flat.
Dudley smiled in thanks, then dragged his bag across the threshold.
When he stepped into the flat, his jaw dropped.
The entryway led into an enormous kitchen-diner, far too big to fit within the top of the building that he had just been looking at.
Everything was beautifully polished, and made of either mahogany or oak or some other gorgeous material that was too expensive for Dudley to even name.
The table was decorated with a vase of large, fragrant flowers, and there were glass cabinets adorning the walls filled with all sorts of interesting instruments.
Everything in the room looked as if it belonged in a magazine, not excluding Draco himself, who fit right in with the collection of attractive items.
He was standing at Dudley’s shoulder, watching him take in the splendour with an amused smile.
“You’re a muggle, then?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” replied Dudley.
Draco blanched, then turned a delightful shade of pink, “Oh, sorry, I just meant - you’re non-magic? As in, you’re not a wizard.“
“Oh, er, yeah.” Dudley nodded sheepishly, “Did you do all of this with magic?” he gestured to the grand room.
“All of it? No,” said Draco, “Harry and I enlarged it, then we decorated it together, but most of what you see is real. All of the furniture is stuff we collected.”
Dudley blinked, “You and Harry? Are you roommates?”
Draco frowned in confusion, then, taking in Dudley’s expression, he grinned.
“No, he’s not my roommate.”
“But you live here together?”
Draco nodded, “I suppose we are technically roommates, but that’s not why we live together.”
Dudley raised an eyebrow, prompting, “So then..?”
Draco smirked, “Harry’s my boyfriend.”
“What?!” squeaked Dudley, before quickly recovering his composure, “I - I mean - erm, that’s - er, that’s very…”
“Surprising?” asked Draco, still grinning like a cat.
“A bit, yeah,” said Dudley honestly, scratching his neck, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it though, of course…” he continued, and Draco shot him a funny look.
“I would hope not.”
He walked away from Dudley and into the kitchen, then pulled out a long, wooden stick that Dudley knew from experience was a wand. He began waving it around and muttering, and all sorts of things flew out of cupboards and into his hands.
“Tea?” he offered, filling a mug with water straight from his wand.
Dudley nodded, and followed him over to the counter, where he took a seat at a very fancy-looking breakfast bar.
“What type?” asked Draco, pulling out a drawer filled with an absolutely huge selection of teas.
“Anything,” said Dudley, trying his best to diffuse the awkwardness, “So, erm, how did you meet Harry?” he asked politely.
It was partly because he had nothing else to say, but half of him was also extremely interested to know how Harry had ended up in a relationship with this man.
“We met at school,” said Draco easily, “although we didn’t become friends until we were eighteen.”
“Really?” said Dudley, surprised, “But why did it take so long if you already knew each other?”
Draco made a face, apparently aiming for a smile but it appeared more like a grimace, “Well, erm, Harry didn’t like me very much at the beginning.”
Dudley snorted, relaxing a little, “How come?”
Draco inhaled sharply, and Dudley wondered if it was a touchy subject, but before he could backtrack, the blonde relaxed once again with a sigh.
“Well, I used to have some pretty nasty opinions about people like him and his friends,” said Draco, a bit sadly, “It took a long time to get over them, actually, but I’m not the same person I was then.”
“People like him? Do you mean… er - erm - what exactly do you mean?” Dudley asked, confused.
If he was referring to homophobia, it seemed a bit ironic, given his current relationship status.
“Half-bloods,” said Draco, as if that explained anything, “and muggleborns.”
At Dudley’s quizzical expression, he continued.
“It means someone who has non-magic heritage. Generally speaking, the more magic you have in your blood, the more ‘important’ you are in the wizarding world. But it’s bollocks, really.”
Draco seemed to be quite distressed by this topic, but Dudley couldn’t help but press, “So, you didn’t like Harry because he has non-wizard family?”
“No, actually,” said Draco, pushing a mug of sweet-smelling tea towards him, and taking a seat at the breakfast bar, “I wanted to be Harry’s friend from the beginning. He was famous in our world, you see, but he made friends with a wizard I didn’t like. Now that hatred was because of all the blood purity stuff.”
“I said some mean things to that friend, partly trying to impress Harry, but it didn’t work. He hated me from then onwards,” Draco sighed.
He seemed terribly upset by the memory, and Dudley wished he knew something comforting to say, but he felt rather out of his depth.
He opted instead to change the topic to something lighter, “But then, you fell in love?”
Draco’s eyes widened, and he flushed a little, “Yeah,” he said, somewhat bashfully, “that’s a nicer story.”
Dudley was about to ask him to tell it, when a key rattled in the lock, and it swung open to reveal a very windswept Harry Potter.
“Oh my god, Draco, you won’t believe what -“ he paused, taking in the sight of Dudley and his boyfriend sitting at the kitchen counter, chatting away amicably.
“Dudley?” he asked, incredulous, and Dudley stood up, walking over to him.
Harry had gotten taller, he noticed.
He wasn’t quite as tall as Draco, although he wasn’t far off, and apparently at some point he had also become ridiculously good-looking. His dark hair was unruly as ever, but was swept back in a sort of effortless fashion. He wore long, smart robes, and was no longer the gangly teenager that Dudley remembered from childhood. He was lithe, toned, and sharp.
No wonder he was with someone like Draco.
“Hi Harry,” said Dudley, stupidly, unsure what else he should say.
He heard the sound of a scraping stool, and registered Draco’s presence as he stepped up behind him.
“I - erm - you didn’t mention that you were going to visit?” said Harry confusedly, and Dudley’s face creased into a frown.
“No, well, it was a bit unexpected,” he replied, and when Harry continued to simply stand there gawking, he added, “My girlfriend kicked me out.”
Harry raised his eyebrows, “Right.”
Draco moved to stand in between them, clearly sensing something was not quite as it should be, and Harry reacted as though he were only just registering his presence at all.
His shoulders sank gently, and his whole posture untensed, like someone had taken a rather heavy bag off his arm.
“Well, I assume you’ve met Draco?” he asked, and Draco smiled.
“Yeah, he let me in,” replied Dudley, aiming to be as genial as possible, “he was just telling me how you met.”
Harry shot Draco a look, which was reciprocated with a confused frown, and they seemed to have a sort of silent conversation for a moment before Harry stepped towards Dudley.
“Well, this is my cousin Dudley, Draco,” said Harry, with what appeared to be his best attempt at a smile, “Although clearly you’re already acquainted.”
At the word ‘cousin’, Draco’s expression morphed from polite confusion to what could only be described as stone cold fury in a matter of seconds.
He whipped around, facing Dudley, “Hold on,” he said, his voice like ice, “You’re Harry’s cousin? As in, the very same cousin he grew up with?”
Dudley swallowed, “Er - well -“
“And you - you haven’t apologised yet?” snapped Draco, “You haven’t said anything to me about anything you did? All those years of torment, and you have nothing to say? Really?”
”Well I -“
“Okay!” interceded Harry loudly, having clearly anticipated this from the moment he stepped through the door and spotted them together, “All right, Draco, erm… let’s just go next door for a second.”
He took Draco firmly by the elbow, then dragged him through an open door into another room, shutting it behind them.
Dudley stood there awkwardly for several seconds, listening to the sound of bickering as it echoed through the wall. Draco sounded extremely angry, despite the fact that Dudley could scarcely make out what he was saying.
The argument continued. At one point, the door opened, and Harry made as if to step out again, when Draco’s voice rang clearly into the room.
“And you expect me to just be okay with that? After everything he did to you, I’m not spending another second with him in our house -“
“No, I know,” said Harry softly, shutting the door again, “I know, I’m not going to make -“
But Dudley never heard what he wasn’t going to do, because the moment the door clicked shut again, a cool silence washed over the house, as if Draco and Harry and their lover’s quarrel didn’t even exist anymore.
After another few minutes of silence, Dudley resumed his seat at the breakfast bar, waiting for one of them to come out of the room.
Before long, they both stepped out, looking slightly more ruffled than Dudley was expecting. He wondered whether the argument had descended into a fistfight, judging by Draco’s mussed hair and Harry’s crooked glasses, but refrained from mentioning it.
“Okay, Dudley, I need to speak to you, now.” Harry said firmly, holding the door open for him.
Draco walked past Dudley as he entered, and shot him a look so scathing that it had his neck hairs standing on end.
Once they had both walked into what appeared to be a small library, the door shut. Once more the cold bubble of silence descended, however this time Dudley was on the inside, and assumed Draco was on the outside.
“Okay, look. Dudley, you can stay here, I just need to lay out some ground rules -“
“I’m sorry,” interrupted Dudley, and Harry frowned, “Your boyfriend is right. I should have apologised the moment I walked in, and I’m sorry for not responding to your letter either.”
Harry stared at him, shocked into silence.
“I’ve been a really, really shit cousin to you over the years. I was awful when we were kids and worse when we were teenagers, if I were you I would have hexed my sorry arse to Switzerland by now, and I certainly wouldn’t be letting me stay in this house.”
Harry blinked in surprise, “Dudley..”
“I’m serious. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll do the chores around here, walk the dog, if you want me to pay you every week then I can -“
“Dudley!” Harry interceded, “It’s okay, you don’t have to do that. Besides, most of our chores can be done by magic anyways.“
Dudley smiled sheepishly, “You understand the sentiment.”
“I do,” Harry grinned back, “And I’m really glad you apologised.”
“If I could take back everything I did, then I would. I know it may not seem like it, but I’ve learned a lot since my parents moved away. I never should have treated you like that.”
Harry opened his mouth to reply, when the door creaked, and Draco stepped in.
“That was far better than I was expecting, honestly.”
Harry flushed, “Draco!”
Dudley blinked in confusion, “I thought you couldn’t hear anything we were saying?”
Draco scoffed, “You think Harry would silence me from a conversation in my own home? The charm he cast was a listening charm, so I could hear you both from the kitchen.”
Dudley shot a glance at Harry, feeling slightly betrayed, however Harry shrugged.
“It was either that or letting him stay in the room, which, if you hadn’t apologised, probably would have ended rather badly for you.”
Dudley shuddered to think of it.
“Anyways,” said Draco, “Apology accepted, because Harry forgave you ages ago, like back when you were seventeen. So really, it was me you were trying to convince.”
“Glad it worked, then,” Dudley smirked, “You seem like the sort of person I’d rather not fight with.”
“You’re not wrong about that,” said Draco brightly, however Dudley could tell there was a dangerous edge behind his friendly facade.
If he crossed Harry ever again, he was almost certain Draco would make him pay for it tenfold.
Pushing the door back open, and stepping into the hallway, Harry looked at Dudley, “So… how about a house tour?”
•••
After spending about three hours going through each room in the Potter-Malfoy flat, with Dudley asking either Draco or Harry to explain what various objects did, the trio ended up back in the kitchen.
Draco was cooking dinner, with Harry seated on the countertop, watching him and occasionally providing ingredients (despite the fact that Draco could simply wave his wand to get them himself).
Dudley sat at the breakfast bar once again, watching the moving pictures on the fridge.
There was one of Draco laughing on a balcony, his hair sunlit from behind, creating a halo of light. There was another of Harry, in a ridiculous skiing outfit, grinning as he posed with what looked like a giant snowman.
Tons of the images featured the couple together, hands or mouths interlocked, staring at each other with the purest expressions of true love that Dudley had ever seen. He was a little jealous, given his own newfound relationship status, but a part of him was glad that Harry finally had someone who loved him like he deserved.
He had spent his whole life having to scrape love from wherever he could find it, and now someone had swooped in to give him everything and more.
Simply staring at them in front of him, he could tell. Harry was regaling Draco with tales from the Auror office that day - which was apparently where he worked - and Draco smiled benignly at every sentence, as though he had never heard anything more interesting than Harry’s voice in his life.
They were made for each other, no doubt about it, and Dudley couldn’t help feeling a little lighter than air himself just being around them.
He only hoped the third-wheeling wouldn’t get too intense. It had been mere hours together and he was already feeling like a voyeur. He prayed they had the sense to use those cold-bubble silencing charms whenever they went to bed.
He wasn’t sure he could handle it if he had to be privy to their whole relationship.