•
For every big mistake you make, be grateful – that mistake you'll never make again.
Every shiny dream that fades and dies generates the steam for two more tries.
There's magic in the wake of a fiasco – it gives you that chance to second-guess.
Then up from the ashes, up from the ashes grow the roses of success.

•

CHAPTER ONE: BLACK WITH SUGAR

He was possibly more nervous than he'd ever been in his life, and he hadn't even reached the counter yet.

The book was clenched in his sweaty palms as if it might sprout wings and fly away, which – given the fact that he'd seen far stranger things in his days – it honestly might. His other hand was clenched into a fist, opening and closing in a pattern that nearly matched the elevated beating of his heart.

One more person in line, and then it would be his turn.

Jesus Christ, what if he botched it up? What if they didn't allow him to go through with it? What if there was some sort of unspoken etiquette that he would be expected to stick to? There were so many bloody what-if's running through his brain, he almost didn't notice when the man at the counter called out, "Sir? Can I help you, sir?"

He took a breath so deep it could have held several layers of marine ecosystems, and stepped forward.

"I'd like…" he began, trying to steady his breathing, his hand, his mind, and just get the bloody sentence out of his mouth – "to check out a book."

He placed the sweat-lined tome on the countertop. "This book," he clarified. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

To his relief, the man smiled politely. "May I see your library card, sir?"

"I don't, erm." He coughed. "I don't have one."

"No problem at all, I'll just whip one up for you." The man behind the counter grinned – it was an attractive, knowing type of grin, the absolute best kind in the world. He started typing things into a computer. "What's your name?"

He cleared his throat and straightened his head. "Dudley. Dursley. Erm. Dudley Dursley."

The man grinned again. If Dudley hadn't been so bloody anxious at the moment, he might have been getting a few butterflies in his stomach – the librarian definitely wasn't that hard on the eyes. As it was, however, he couldn't think about much else than the small white card popping out of a machine next to the sexy librarian's computer. "Nice to meet you, Dudley Dursley," the librarian said, holding out the card and a ballpoint pen. "If you can just sign your name on that little stripe right there, you'll be right-o good-to-go."

Dudley signed his name, trying to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking. The sexy librarian definitely seemed to notice it when he handed the card back to him, and chuckled a little bit.

"You seem nervous," he laughed. "Afraid I'm going to bite your head off?"

"Something of the sort, yeah," Dudley responded, chuckling nervously. "This is… my first time."

"First time what?"

"Checking out a book. From a library."

"Oh, I see." The librarian nodded thoughtfully and picked up the book Dudley had placed on the counter. "A Brief History of Time, by Stephen Hawking? Excellent choice. I've read it five times, maybe six. Not sure."

"Yeah." Dudley shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I need to catch up a bit, you see. Didn't really pay attention to my lessons when I was younger."

"Catch up to what?" the librarian asked, as he ran Dudley's book through a scanner.

"Everything," Dudley answered. "I've got a lot of reading to do."

•••

"Back so soon?" The librarian picked up the book and tossed it into a "Return" bin behind him, turning back to look at Dudley.

"Yeah," Dudley answered. "I read it all in one sitting. Stayed up all night to read it, it was fantastic."

The librarian grinned. "Yeah, isn't it? One of my favorites."

Dudley cleared his throat. "Got any more?"

"Any more what?"

"Any more books like that," Dudley clarified. "Science books, I s'pose. About… time, and space, and things. Or anything really."

"Oh, yeah." The librarian stepped around the corner, coming over to Dudley's side of the counter. "Loads more."

He started walking, and motioned for Dudley to follow him. "There's a whole section over here that's devoted to science," he explained as they walked. "You'll probably never run out of books to read, unless you're a bloody wizard or something."

"What about books that… that aren't science?" Dudley's head was whipping around them, gazing in awe at the rows and rows of books. "Like, history, or literature, or… or the sort?"

The sexy librarian laughed. "We've got those, too. If you ever need help finding anything, come find me. I can show you around." He stopped in his tracks and turned to face him. "In case you ever do need to find me, my name's Clarence."

Dudley allowed himself to smile, just a bit. "Hi, Clarence."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Clarence, and he stuck out his hand.

Dudley didn't take it. He only stared.

After a moment, he spoke. "No one's ever said that to me before, ever."

Clarence lowered his hand, confused. "Said what?"

"That it was a pleasure to meet me."

"Well, it was," said Clarence almost immediately, grabbing Dudley's hand and shaking it. "And I can assure you, Mr. Dursley – it continues to be."

•••

"What is it this time, Dudders?"

"I'm thinking… maybe something from this Dostoevsky bloke," Dudley answered, after a moment or two of thought. "I've been hearing about him, from some of my mate's at Uni… thought I might see what all the hype is about."

"Excellent idea." Clarence immediately started waltzing off to some part of the library, with Dudley trailing close behind. "Although, he's not a personal favorite of mine… tends to over-elaborate things, I think. Bit dull, really."

"You've read him?"

"A few things, here and there." He started scanning the shelves, checking the Dewey number on his little card every now and then. "Here, he is, good old Dostoey. Take your pick."

As Dudley started flicking his eyes over the various titles on the shelf, Clarence watched him intently. He stayed quiet for some time, until Dudley finally selected a book and started flipping through it – with sudden clarity, he spoke.

"You know, I've never met anyone like you, Dudley Dursley," he said.

Dudley nearly dropped his book as he looked up in surprise. "What? I mean… what?"

"Lemme explain." Clarence used his hands for elaboration, as he so often did. "I get lots of reading fanatics who come in here, sort of like you, who want to know everything there is to know about… Mesopotamian society, say, or… quantum mechanics. Or… something. So what they'll do, is they'll check out every single book on that topic, until they're the absolute expert. I get people like that, quite often. Researchers, they're called, I think. But… but you… you're different." He pointed directly at Dudley's chest, which fluttered just the smallest bit in a not-entirely-unpleasant-but-queasy way. "You want to know everything about… everything. You've read books on science, history, classical and contemporary literature and everything in between, music theory, sociology, philosophy, mythology, and even the odd bits of obscure poetry. In the two years you've been coming here, you've possibly read more books than any other person in the history of this library… it's like… it's like you practically inhale them."

He leaned to the side, putting his elbow on a bookshelf and his hand on his cheek. He raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

Dudley swallowed. He tried to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking.

"Tell you what, Clare," he said. "Come get coffee with me sometime, and I'll tell you."

To his relief, Clarence smiled.

•••

Dudley wasn't good at awkward silences. Or awkward anything. Or… anything, really, at all, if you'd asked him about it. People, really, if he had to narrow it down. He wasn't good with people.

Especially attractive librarians.

He cleared his throat. It's what his father used to do when there was a silence, and he wanted to command the conversation – Dudley winced when he realized the comparison. Vernon Durlsey was the last person on Earth he wanted to be anything like.

"I was… a… bloody awful kid," he said. Clarence nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of his chai latte – of course, he just had to get something fancy while Dudley stuck with his usual, black coffee with sugar. But anyway. "Really, truly rotten… I beat my cousin up on a regular basis, y'know, and… the kids at my school… were all afraid of me… 'cause I'd beat them up, too."

Clarence nodded again. Dudley was relieved at the lack of disgust on his friend's face, so he forged ahead.

"And I was… dumb," he went on, taking far too long to find each word, as if he had to peel it from the roof of his mouth. "I failed almost every class, for years… y'know, I think the only way I ever got into college was through m' dad. He prob'ly threatened to beat up the headmaster if he didn't let me in."

He took a drink and continued, the searing hot liquid in his throat giving him a jolt of extra energy and clarity.

"But, y'know…" He paused for a moment, thinking. "I'm not stupid. I'm actually… pretty smart. But I acted thick, because I thought… maybe I wouldn't get picked on if I wasn't smart. Maybe if I was a bully and got bad grades, people wouldn't… wouldn't see that I was different, just like all the kids I picked on… different, just like everybody else in the world." He looked up from his coffee. "See?"

Clarence nodded. "Mmhm," he said.

Dudley thought some more. As an adult, he'd discovered this incredible phenomenon where speaking one's thoughts aloud, in the context of a conversation, almost magically opened the mind to things one hadn't even considered before. "And my mum and dad… they were so proud of me," he went on. He drank. "Because I was a big, muscley brute and I never took 'no' for an answer. But I should have, really. I should have learned to take 'no' for an answer. Maybe I'd be… maybe I'd be a halfway decent person by now, if I had."

Clarence reached out and covered Dudley's hand with his.

It was a simple gesture. A small one. He placed his fingers, roughly the same level of meatiness as Dudley's, on top of the thick hand clutching the paper coffee cup. He and let them rest there. A simple gesture, but a kind one – one Dudley appreciated more than he could say.

"I think you're a half decent person," Clarence told him. He didn't say anything else.

"You're just saying that," Dudley said, half-sincerely and half-mocking.

"Well, yes, I am saying it," Clarence laughed. "But I'm saying it because I mean it. You are a half decent person. You're the most half decent person I know."

Dudley allowed himself to smile. After so many years of internalized loathing and self-discipline, he decided it was finally time to allow himself that.

"Think I could ever be a fully decent person?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah." Clarence leaned forwards, putting his slightly stubble-brushed face in his hands. "But for now, let's work on Dostoyevsky."

•••

"Clare, I want to tell you something."

"Shoot."

Dudley tried to keep his hands from shaking as he put the hardcovers on the shelf (He'd spent so much time at the library the past couple of years, he'd sort of ended up volunteering on accident, and hadn't bothered to stop). He filled his enormous lungs with as much air as they could hold.

"You alright, Dudders?"

"Fine, fine," Dudley said. His voice trembled. "I'm fine, you sod."

"Okay, then, get on with it."

"Please just… be patient with me, this once." Dudley looked over at him. "This is… really difficult for me."

In his subtle way, Clarence softened. "Yeah, alright, big guy." He stopped putting the books away and leaned on the shelf. "No problem."

One useful thing Dudley did learn in his youth is that sometimes, blurting things out as quickly and obnoxiously as you can is actually the right idea. "I'm gay," he said, and it squirted from his mouth a hard boiled egg through a pair of wet hands, landing with a splat between the two of them on the library floor.

Clarence didn't visibly react. "Yeah, I know," he said. "Go on."

Dudley didn't go on.

"That's… that's it," he said. "That's what I wanted to tell you."

A beat passed, and then Clarence laughed. "If you honestly think I didn't know you were gay up until this moment, you sincerely overestimate your skills of discretion."

"What?"

He laughed some more, but in a friendly way. "You've got beady little falcon's eyes. You think I don't see where you point them now and then?"

Dudley gulped. He sincerely hoped Clarence had never seen where he pointed his eyes, because if he did, they were probably in for another few awkward conversations.

"Look, I'm proud of you, you big sniveling bastard," Clarence told him, fondly. "I know it takes a lot of courage to say that. It did for me, when I told someone the first time. But really, honestly – don't worry about it, okay?" He shook his head. "I know you, and I know you worry about what people think of you. But I'm the last person you should ever worry about. Even if I wasn't bi, I wouldn't care who you wanted to shag – it's none of my business, it never will be, end of story."

He started putting books back on the shelves again. "You feel better?"

Dudley checked his pulse. "Yeah. Loads." He reflected for a moment. "First time I've ever told anyone that."

"How long have you known?"

"Since secondary school. But I started wondering about it in Primary."

"Hm. Me, too. And you've never told anyone?"

"No."

"Except for now?"

"Except for now."

Clarence paused for a second. "Good on you, Dudley Dursley."

"Sod off," Dudley murmured, except that this time, he was grinning as he said it.

•••

"So last week," Clarence announced, "you gave me something very special. You gave me your trust. And this week, I'm going to give you something else special."

Dudley raised an eyebrow as he brought his coffee (black with sugar) to his lips. "Not sure I like where this is going."

"Oh, you will, trust me, you will." Clarence reached into his tote bag and pulled out… a book.

It was old, dusty, and extremely well-worn. It looked like it had been through generations of avid readers. It was so worn out that Dudley could hardly make out the title written on the spine – he sounded the letters out loud.

"A-H-I-S-T-O-R-Y-O-F-M-A-G-I-" he read, and stopped short. He stared.

Clarence smiled at him mischievously. "Hm? What's it say, Duddykins?"

Dudley swallowed. "A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot."

"Knew you'd recognize it," Clarence said proudly.

Dudley swallowed again. He looked at Clarence from underneath his creased eyebrows. "Where… did you get this?"

Clarence did The Look, which was only ever used when he was trying to convey something very strange and very important, and which was only ever used on Dudley. "School," he said. "One of my old textbooks."

Dudley nearly dropped the dusty tome on the floor. "You're–"

"Yes, I am."

"–a wizard?"

Clarence smilled, but it was unsure and cautious.

"Hope that's okay," he said, shrugging.

Dudley paused for a very long time.

"Of course," he said finally, and took a long gulp of his coffee.

•••

"They're all looking at me," Dudley insisted. "It's like… they can tell I'm a muggle."

"Just act like nothing is weirding you out, and you'll be fine." Clarence stopped at the bar and tapped the bartender's back. "Can I 'elp you, sir?" the bartender asked.

"Scotch with extract of elvesbane for me, and… what for you, Dudders?"

"I don't drink," Dudley answered. "I haven't since college. Kills brain cells."

"And a butterbeer for my mate," Clarence finished.

"Aw'right," the bartender said, nodding. He started fixing some sort of drink behind the counter. "First time at the Leaky Cauldron?"

Dudley nodded. "Clare's showing me around Diagon Ally today. Never been there before."

"Well, you must've!" the bartender cried in surprise. "Where'd you get your supplies for when you went to 'Ogwarts?"

"I didn't," Dudley answered. "I didn't go to Hogwarts."

"Well, where'd you go, then?"

He swallowed. "Smeltings."

"Never 'eard of it." The bartender plopped a drink down in front of Clarence, who started sipping it. "Is it a good school? Or one of those rubbish ones that don't teach any decent magic?"

"It was a muggle school," Dudley answered.

"Why'd you go to a muggle school?"

"Because I'm a muggle."

"What? A muggle? In the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Yeah."

The bartender paused for a long, long time before finally setting Dudley's drink down in front of him with a shrug. "It's a changing world, I s'ppose," he said. "Well – bottoms up, boys!"

Twenty minutes, two more butterbeers, and one bathroom break later, Dudley and Clarence were stepping through the magical brick entrance. Dudley stared as the bricks shifted with a tap of Clarence's wand – not in disgust, however, like the faces of his parents when confronted with magic, but in awe.

"Like my magic tricks, Dudders?" Clare asked, pulling him through the archway.

Dudley shrugged. "I've seen better."

"Don't worry, I've got a few more up my sleeve."

Dudley didn't answer, because he was too busy staring at everything around him. Clarence, being used to Dudley's mannerisms and the patterns of his brain, gave him a few moments to process.

"The central hub of the English magical community," he announced after an adequate amount of time had passed. "What do you want to see first?"

Dudley shook his head. "Absolutely no idea. Anywhere. Everywhere."

Clarence took his arm in a mock-gentlemanly fashion. "Let's start with the bookstore."

•••

The night air lay, like a crisp blanket of cool, over Dudley's sunburned skin. He felt, rather than saw, the small rays of moonlight struggling to shine through the streetlamps' glow as they walked down the street from the tube station together.

He opened his mouth to speak. "Today was…"

"Fantastic? Mind-boggling? Utterly and completely out-of-this-world?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Dudley answered, rolling his eyes. "I was going to say 'nice'."

"Nice," Clarence scoffed. He punched Dudley in the shoulder. "I show you the bustling central hub of the British wizarding world and all you can say is, 'nice.'"

Dudley picked up the cage in his arms to look at his new pet. "Well, this present you got me is pretty fantastic."

"Oh, it's nothing special. Every self-respecting wizard needs an owl."

They had arrived at Dudley's doorstep. He started to reach into his pocket to find his key, putting his beautiful gray owl on the ground for a moment. "But I'm not a wizard," he said. He stopped fishing in his pocket for a moment. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"No," Clarence answered immediately. "Nothing about you bothers me – except your terrible habit of dog-earing books. Does it bother you that I am?"

"No," Dudley responded. "Nothing about you bothers me."

"Except…?" Clarence prompted.

"Except… nothing." Dudley shrugged. "Nothing about you bothers me."

Clarence was quiet for a while. When he finally spoke, his words were accompanied by a lift of his hand as he brought his index finger to rest on the underside of Dudley's pudgy chin. "Can I…?" he asked, softly.

Dudley swallowed. "People don't usually ask. They just… take."

"Well, I'm not people." Clarence was already closer than he had been two seconds before, which he didn't seem to have done consciously. "So can I?"

"…yeah."

As Clarence kissed him, Dudley's keys fell out of his hand and clattered on the concrete doorstep, eliciting a sharp squawk out his owl, which echoed around the empty street. I think I'll call him "Noisy," Dudley thought with a roll of his eyes, and then promptly stopped thinking entirely.

•••

"Bloody morning breath," Clarence muttered between messy kisses.

"Stuff it," Dudley responded. "S'not my fault you set my mouthwash on fire."

"Well, you shouldn't have… bought it in the… first place if you didn't… didn't want me to use it in… in my potion."

Dudley punched his arm and drew back to lie on his pillow. He closed his eyes. "Bloody exhausted," he said.

"So, not up for another round, then?"

"You've got to be joking." Dudley put his hands on his face, trying to rub the fatigue out of his eyes. "Unlike you, I don't have the recovery time of a teenager. Besides, I've got to look nice today – can't stroll into my job interview looking sleepy-eyed and well-shagged, can I?"

"Well, you could, but it would sort of negate the point of the entire interview, which I'm going to assume would be getting a job." Clarence turned on his side to see him better. "Besides – 'sleepy-eyed and well-shagged' is exactly how I like you."

"You may be my boyfriend, but that doesn't mean my world revolves around you."

"What?" Clarence looked aghast. "It doesn't? That's news to me, Dudders."

"Sod off, you load of acromantula shit."

Clarence laughed heartily. "I actually forgot you had that today," he said. "You've got to keep our schedule in better order."

"I keep our schedule in perfect order," Dudley said defensively. "Perfect color-coded order, which you keep neglecting. You're green, and I'm blue. Purple is for things we're both doing. The problem is that you never read it."

"You know I never remember."

"Because you're a complete sodding idiot. How you ever managed to get your degree in Library Science is beyond me."

"Bastard." Clarence yawned. "Sexy bastard," he added, correcting himself.

Dudley rolled his eyes and turned over, climbing out of the bed. Clarence watched him from where he stayed on the bed, wrapped up in the white sheets they'd been sharing for nearly a year, and watched as Dudley got dressed.

•••

Clarence was waiting for him at the door. "Did you get it?" he asked.

Dudley picked him off his feet and kissed him. "Those second year students better watch out," he said when he put his boyfriend back on the ground. Clarence laughed.

"So you got the job?" He grinned at him.

Dudley nodded.

Clarence turned around. "Hear that, Noisy?" he called. Noisy flapped his wings and squawked happily, flying across the living room to land on Dudley's shoulder. "Dudders got the job!"

"That's Professor Dursley to you," Dudley told him, because it was.

•••

"That was bloody fantastic," said Clarence, as he walked back from the bathroom and clambered back onto their bed.

Dudley immediately grabbed him and pulled him over, kissing him fiercely. "Happy anniversary," he said.

Clarence reached over to the bedside table and grabbed two small Dixie cups filled with sink water. "To the best year of my life," he said, and clinked glasses with Dudley. "S'not exactly champagne, but I guess it will have to do."

"Best year of my life, too," Dudley said, and downed his sink water.

The cups were thrown unceremoniously on the messy bedroom floor. Clarence leaned down, putting his head in Dudley's blanket-covered lap, cuddling up to him as closely as he could.

"Sorry I didn't get you anything for our anniversary," Clarence said.

"Don't worry about it," Dudley shrugged. "I'd say the sex was more than enough."

Clarence gave a small, muffled sound of agreement. "Three years ago," he mumbled, "I didn't even know you. But now… I can't even imagine life without you."

Dudley ran a hand through his blonde, curly hair. "Even though I'm a massive git?"

"Because you're a massive git, you massive git."

"Twat."

"Fair enough."

Dudley paused for a long time. Clarence knew him well enough to know that when Dudley paused, it was because he was either thinking very deeply, working himself up to say something, or both. As per usual, he decided he'd let Dudley speak when he was ready.

"I want… to talk to you about something," he said finally.

Clarence shifted so that he was looking up at him. "Shoot."

Dudley didn't clear his throat. "I…" He swallowed. "I don't know how to start this." He swallowed a second time. "Clare… I never thought… that I'd ever be the sort of person who could deserve someone like you."

Clarence said nothing, but listened intently.

"The only person I've ever truly hated in my life is… me," he went on. "But hearing you say that you loved me… well, I mean. I still hated myself. But I hated myself a little bit less.

"The thing is… the thing is what you said, what you said earlier." He took a breath, deep and heavy. "That you can't imagine life without me. Well, I can't either. Without you, I mean. Not me."

Clarence chuckled.

"What I'm… what I'm trying to say…" Dudley's pulse was racing. "I think it would be… would be nice if… god. God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm such a fucking idiot. I don't know how to say this, I don't know…"

"Shh." Clarence held up a long, thick arm and put a finger to Dudley's slightly quivering lips. "Take your time, love. Take your time."

Dudley paused for a second, and then nodded. He closed his eyes.

"Clare…" The word came out on a shivering breath, almost as if he hadn't meant to let it slip out from his lips. "God. I love you so much, you complete twat. Would you marry me?"

Clarence let out a huff as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. He shifted around until he was facing Dudley and stared at him, expression unreadable. There were a few moments of silence.

"Of course I fucking would," Clarence said finally, his face breaking out into a smile. Dudley was almost shocked to see the beginnings of a tear collecting in the corner of his eye. "And I fucking will. Now come here and kiss me, Dudley, you sniveling bastard."

Dudley did just that.