When Dudley married a girl from college, a college he only got into because of his boxing scholarship, he never expected to be living without her in a few short years. He had proposed a year and a half after they met. They were married that summer and by the next spring, they were expecting. When Dudley found out he was to have a little one, he was more than ecstatic. His parents, too. But when the nine months of Sarah's pregnancy flew past, Dudley found himself getting more and more overwhelmed. He had suddenly been thinking things, like What if I'm not good enough? Or What if she doesn't like me? What if she cries every time I hold her? He never expressed these feelings to his beloved wife as she lay in bed for days, being on bed rest for her and the baby's safety, because he did not want to bother her or show weakness. He didn't want her to fear that he was not going to be a great dad. Dudley would do anything for his dear daughter.

Their little girl was due in April and not until March did Sarah and Dudley finally decide on a name, Margaret. Dudley had come up with it and Sarah, lying in bed next to him, nodded vigorously. They both smiled at each other and kissed. Dudley did not know this would be the last time that her lips would touch his with the warmth they provided. That night, Sarah went into labor. Dudley was ready in the physical sense, he and Sarah had packed a hospital bag for the both of them and the baby the previous week. Emotionally, however, Dudley was a wreck. He paced the hallway in their foyer for five minutes before finally coming to his senses and helping Sarah out to the car. He drove like a maniac, through the streets of Little Whinging. Maybe it was his nerves or the fact that he did not want to have to deliver his child himself, Dudley had developed road rage that night and very little was his hand off the horn of the car until they reached the hospital.

Dudley cannot remember what happened next. He thinks it was something like this: Sarah was rushed into a delivery room. A nurse helped Dudley put on some blue clothing. He is not sure if it was scrubs or an apron type deal. But he knew when he walked in to watch his wife give birth to his first child, Dudley did not expect it to be his last. He wanted to have a large family with his wife. (His cousin, Harry, who had occasionally sent him Christmas cards had one toddler and his redhead wife announced she was carrying a child around the same time Sarah and Dudley announced their pregnancy. Dudley did not like to admit that he was envious of Harry for this.) But his wife, despite smiling, was pale and sweating like crazy. Dudley had expected this, he had read all the parenting books Sarah and his mother had recommended he read. With every push, she screamed and clasped Dudley's hand so tight, he thought it might break, until they could hear their little girl crying, screaming maybe. But Dudley had done something wrong. He went to look at his daughter instead of saying goodbye to his wife, because suddenly three nurses were pushing him out of the room and the others were screaming "CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!"

"What is that? What does that mean?" Dudley screamed wildly, fighting the nurses, but why, suddenly, did he feel so weak? He had been boxing most of his life, and somehow could not fight off these little women that were half his height. He could see right over their heads, but why did his heart suddenly say Stay out here, it will be easier. So that's what Dudley did. He sat on a bench close to the delivery room and waited for what felt like hours but could have been no longer than thirty minutes. Finally a doctor, a male one that he had seen rush into the room, but was not there during the birth of his first child, walked out in the hallway and looked at Dudley with sad eyes.

"No," whispered Dudley.

"Mr. Dursley, your wife suffered severely because of the strain put on her body – "

"–No–"

"But despite our greatest efforts – "

"–No–"

"We were not able to save her."

"No! No. I know this is a joke." Dudley tried to push past the doctor. "Sarah! I know you're in there. I know you can hear me! This isn't funny, darling! Tell him to stop!"

"Mr. Dursley, your wife has died."

"No!" This time it was a sob. And Dudley fell to the floor in front of this doctor he had never met before and sobbed, because that's all he wanted to do.

Over the next few days, nurses kept asking if Dudley wanted to hold his daughter. Hoping this would trigger him into filling out the birth certificate. Dudley stayed at the hospital for three days, sleeping in waiting rooms when he could, but he could not bring himself to hold his daughter.

Then, on the fourth day, something prompted him to say yes to one of the kind nurses. So she brought his gorgeous baby out to him. He looked at her round, pale face and her thin blonde hair and smiled, as it mirrored his own. Her eyes were a dark blue, like her mother's. Seeing her, he knew what her name was.

"Daisy," he gasped breathlessly. The plump nurse hurried to grab the name card on the small plastic crib Daisy had been sleeping in and scribbled out her first name. The card read:

Dursley Baby

Born: March 23, 2006
21:33

Daisy

Her name was written at the bottom almost as an afterthought. But then again, Dudley thought, I suppose it was. Dudley spent the rest of the day holding his daughter in his arms. Finally, he had called his parents and told them the news. Dudley had forgotten about his parents in the moment. He had thought of nothing, but Sarah and the baby for days. But when he held his daughter in his arms, he saw his mother and father pampering her and finally called.

Dudley's mother rushed into the hospital that evening, and spotted Dudley holding his newborn in his arms earnestly. And when she tried to take her granddaughter in her arms, Dudley shook his head and tears filled his eyes. Petunia understood and watched her son bond with his offspring for the rest of the night. Vernon, however, sat on the other side of Dudley a little less enthusiastic about his granddaughter than his wife. His son was a single father, what would their neighbors think? Vernon understood Dudley's pain, or tried to, he couldn't imagine life without Petunia. But he couldn't sympathize well, it was never his best quality. Instead, he settled for watching his son and wife ooze over the tiny addition to their family.

Years later, Dudley noticed something was odd when he took Little Daisy to his parent's house after a visit with Harry and his children, James, Albus, and Lily. Aunt Marge had a habit of talking badly about Harry, who happened to be one of Daisy's favorite relatives. Dudley did not encourage this, but he, to his parents' dislikes, did not discourage it either. But Marge was talking about how filthy and disgusting that "nephew of yours Petunia" is, Daisy turned red in the face and squeezed her eyes shut. Something she did when she got angry. The tighter her face was scrunched, the angrier she was. Dudley picked up on this and laid a careful hand on Daisy's shoulder, but his hand burnt suddenly and he drew it away with a quick "Ouch!" His parents and aunt turned to look at him at once, Marge cutting off mid-sentence.

"Go on, Auntie Marge. I just pricked my hand on something."

"Right, so anyway, that nephew of yours, Petunia."

"You know, Auntie Marge," said Daisy loudly, her face contorted into a crooked smile and her blue eyes flashed with something Dudley had never seen before. "Harry comes to our house all the time. He has three children: James, Albus, and Lily. They are all very nice. Do you have any nice children?"

"Now, now, Daisy," Dudley tried to pull his daughter away before she got into any trouble. "Remember what Daddy told you, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy. Treat others how you want to be treated? Is that how Auntie Marge wants to be treated?" she whispered innocently.

Dudley kneeled in front of Daisy and smiled kindly. "Let's just be quiet and then we can go home and have some pudding!"

"Alright!" Daisy smiled and turned back to Aunt Marge.

This new found silence only lasted an hour until the topic was brought back to Dudley's cousin and Daisy's face scrunched up once more. Suddenly, Marge's chair broke from underneath her and her mug of hot tea went flying into the air and landed on her head, burning her scalp no doubt. The entire time, Daisy was not hastily trying to find a rag to get the steaming beverage off of her great aunt, no, she stood there with a satisfied smile and nodded at her dad. Dudley bid farewell to his parents and took his daughter to their home. Daisy was seven at the time.

The next time something odd happened was on Daisy's tenth birthday. She had mentioned, about a billion times, that she wanted a computer for her birthday. Though Dudley had no intention of getting one for her, he went to the store and looked at some computers that might be suitable for a girl her age. He couldn't help it. She had said she wanted one so she could work like Daddy, as Dudley had been working at home since she started school. So Dudley walked out of the store with a refurbished ACER for his little Daisy.

Daisy was so excited when she opened her gift (Dudley had added some add-ons to make it completely child-safe) that she ran around the living room cheering for ten minutes. The lights flickered which Dudley contributed to the storm, since it was March. Later to find out how wrong he was. Daisy had finally sat down to open the rest of her presents which included a couple things from his parents, a gift certificate from Aunt Marge, and a card from Sarah's brother, whom only wrote every few years because he blamed Dudley and Daisy for Sarah's death.

"Daddy? Can you tell me the story about you and Mommy again?" Daisy asked that night at bedtime.

"Of course, my birthday princess." Dudley kissed Daisy's forehead and launched into the story about how Dudley and Sarah met when she ran right into him after a maths lesson. After Dudley finished, he expected to hear content snores from his little Daisy, but instead, she sat straight up in bed and asked him a question he never thought he'd have to answer.

"Why does Uncle Brandon hate me?" Daisy's eyes teared up and Dudley's heart broke into a billion pieces. As the first tear slid down his precious baby's cheek, the door to her room slammed shut. Dudley stood up to close the window, but was surprised to find it was not open. Books started pouring from the shelves beside Daisy's bed as more and more tears poured out of her eyes. Dudley was frightened to say the least, but he did not hesitate to pull his daughter into a tight hug until she fell asleep.

That night he called Harry Potter, Dudley knew he was the only person that would be able to understand.

Dudley did not tell his parents that he knew what his daughter was, a witch. He told them that he could not come around because Daisy was sick or he had to work. He made up excuses to avoid his parents becoming suspicious of his child. Harry had warned Dudley of Daisy's eleventh birthday.

"You remember all those letters that came to Number 4 because of me? If you ignore them, that's what will happen to Daisy. Don't try to conceal this, Dudley. Be confident in her, and tell her now, don't wait."

So Dudley did and it was probably the hardest thing he did, because he himself did not know much about magic, let alone enough to teach his daughter about it. But Dudley told his daughter what she was, pulled her out of school, moved into a big, luxurious house across town and started raising his daughter in an entirely different way.