Author's Note: I got the idea for this story after I watched an interview of JK Rowling, when asked if Dudley would have a wizard child and Harry and he would be close, she replied no, but they would at least have a Christmas card relationship. I dunno if anyone else has done this, but this is my take on it! I hope you like it! :D
Oh, yeah, almost forgot, but no, I don't own Harry Potter, any of the characters mentioned, or the owl.
Dudley Dursley made a face of distaste as he made his way across the snow-covered yard to his mail box. The cold December air bit at his face and he let out a yelp as a chunk of snow slid into his slipper, melting when it touched his skin.
Jack Frost nipping at your nose, indeed. He thought bitterly when he finally reached the mail box and pulled it open. Inside lay a bundle of envelopes, some bills, but mostly they were Christmas cards from various acquaintances and colleagues. He flipped through the pile as he trudged back to the front door.
He entered the warm house gratefully, and slipped off his soaking slippers and proceeding to the living room, where he warmed his wide backside by the fire.
"What was in the mail, dear?" His wife called from the kitchen, where she was trying to persuade their son, who was home from school for the holidays, to wash his hands before breakfast to no prevail.
"Christmas cards from the Griffin's, Walker's, Ibonek's, your sister in America and that bloke who we – AAARGHHH!" He called out as a huge barn owl flew in from the fireplace, completely ignoring the raging flames and landing lightly on the couch's arm.
"Dudley?" His wife called tentatively from the kitchen.
"N – Nothing, dear! Just – just stubbed my toe on the…" he trailed off, charging at the owl, stubby fingers outstretched. Grabbing the owl by the middle, he tore the envelope it had tied to its leg, and promptly threw it out of the window. The ruffled owl took off quickly, but not before turning to glare at Dudley, who closed the curtains in its face.
Fingers shaking in rage, - who did that freak think he was, sending ruddy birds into his house? - he tore the envelope open.
He pulled a card out, the cover of which was a moving picture of a small family consisting of three children and two parents, all of them wearing matching red sweaters with different gold letters knitted onto the chest. The oldest son, probably only five or six, was being restrained by his mother, for he was making desperate swipes at the younger brother, who was cringing into his father's leg, while a young daughter, barely past infantry, laughed and giggled in her father's arms reaching for the eldest son with chubby fists. As he watched, the mother caught sight of Dudley, and started screaming (or he assumed she was screaming, because her face was red, but he couldn't actually hear anything) and gesturing up at him. The family straightened themselves out, the children sitting in chairs while the parents stood behind them, and they all hitched forced smiles onto their faces, though the oldest son still threw glowering looks at his brother every so often.
Dudley's rage had softened to amusement as he watched this play out, and looked appraisingly at the picture for a little while longer before opening the card.
Dear Dursleys,
Hope you have a very merry Christmas!
Love from Harry, Ginny, James, Albus and Lily Potter
Dudley flipped the card shut again and watched the family, bickering again, for a few more minutes before approaching the raging fire and throwing it in and watching it burn. Mrs. Dursley must never know.
After ensuring it wasn't going to come back in some frightening way, Dudley went over to the desk against the wall, pulled out an envelope and a Christmas card with his own family (all very much stationary) printed on it and wrote a little note inside of it. Tucking the card inside the envelope, he addressed it and made his way back to the front door, slipped on his slippers and trudged outside to the mailbox again.
After he put the envelope into the box, he sprinted as fast as he could (which wasn't very fast, due to his mass and the weather conditions) back up to the house.
The card, addressed to The Potter Family, was already getting damp from the moisture, but it would wait there until the postman came by tomorrow to pick up and deliver more mail.