Warning: This story contains spoilers from Deathly Hallows. I assume since you read fanfiction you are a big enough fan to have already read it, but if that isn't the case with you, back away now, and please, read the book.

The Price of Understanding

Chapter One

"Big D, it just don't feel right, that's all I'm saying," Piers muttered, his beady eyes darting around the room as if something invisible was going to creep up on them at any moment. "The bottom of my stomach has gone all wonky, like the feeling I get when Liz walks passed, only bad and not as warm."

Dudley Dursley lay sprawled on his bed, face contorted in thought. "Like all the happiness was gone," he muttered, remembering the cloying darkness that engulfed him two summers ago. Involuntarily shaking, he turned his head to look at his Piers, who was sitting on the floor, his pale face looking forward, his eyes unfocused as if concentrated on something very far away. "Piers?" he inquired, shaking his friend's scrawny shoulder.

The young man blinked, his pupils blossoming like a black rose in the brown sea of his eyes. Gazing over to Dudley, Piers shook his head. "I'm just tired of being so damn cold all the time, that's all." Rubbing his arms to generate heat he added, "Think I need myself a nice girl to fix that, don't ya think, Big D?" He tried to force his grimace into a leer but came off looking more like Dudley's Aunt Marge with constipation, which is to say that Dudley was sure if Piers made that face at the ladies he was going to live a very cold and lonely life.

Laughing darkly to himself, Dudley couldn't help but agree with his mate, he wouldn't mind a lady friend to help warm his bones. He was sure that they were still as cold as the day him and his cousin had been attacked by the dementoids thing, or whatever his father called them. Goosebumps rising on his white skin, he tried to forget the fetid breath of despair he had inhaled in the alleyway that evening right before everything went black. However, try as he might, Dudley always let his thoughts wander back to that memory, his eyes fluttering open for a mere second to take in his thin, weak cousin dragging his limp body back to number Four.

At the time, Dudley was far past comprehending what had happened, shoot, he was determined to believe that it had all been Harry's fault, until he read the letter.

&

The Dursley's were to have won an award for their lawn that night, but they were met with an abandoned building and a crazy old woman carrying a sign about the end times, muttering prayers under her breath. Upon arriving home number Four was dark and quiet, nothing was out of place but it still didn't feel right.

Vernon went upstairs to check on Harry while Petunia crashed on the sofa, her primped blonde hair falling limp in her disappointed face. Crumpled in her hand was a speech, thanking everyone for nominating the Dursley's lawn, part of her had been excited that finally, after all these years, she was being recognized for something. Growing up it had always been about Lily, even that creepy, antisocial Snape kid had liked her sister, and though she wasn't jealous of that, it still said loads about her sister's lure on people. The most Petunia ever got was a head cold, and even then it was Lily's first.

Meanwhile, Dudley went into the kitchen to shove his face with a number of healthy treats available to him. After the agonizing ride home with his parents he felt he earned more than carrot sticks and low-fat yogurt. That's when he saw it, a letter propped up on the counter with "The Dursleys" written on it in green ink. His interest piqued, Dudley grabbed it just as his father's voice filled the house.

"Flown the coup! That damn boy has runaway, up and left us. I bet that whole thing about the lawn was a clever rouse! Nasty things that go on his lot's minds, never know what they will come up with," Vernon bellowed, charging into the kitchen to get a glass of water and the pills for his nerves. "Going to be the life of me," he told Dudley, swallowing the pills with a swig of water. "Glad you didn't turn out like that; I was always worried you see. Didn't know if your mum had the genes or not. Best not tell her that though, wouldn't be too happy I reckon."

As his father rambled on, Dudley slipped the letter into his pocket. He was sure it had to do with his cousin's disappearance but he knew if his parents got their hands on it first Dudley would never get the chance to read it. Though the idea of magic scared him, he found it intriguing that his cousin had a whole life outside of his influence, and in this world Harry had made for himself he actually seemed to be important. It seemed like a bad joke in Dudley's opinion, yet reason told him that if his cousin was about to stand trial for what had happened the other night then he would never run the risk of breaking out using his "skills". Someone had to have come here and broke Harry out themselves. Slowly it all began to make sense in his mind; the Dursleys had been sent a letter telling them they won something to get them out of the house so that Harry could make a run for it.

"What are you playing at?" he thought, thinking about the letter as he took his place on the couch.

Petunia was flipping through the channels without purpose, high heeled shoes strewn at her feet, stockings hanging off the back of the sofa. The speech she had prepared was rolled up and she was playing with it nervously, rubbing it between her forefingers. It had been almost four years since she stopped smoking, but Dudley knew the urge haunted her every stress filled moment. More than once he was forced to toss an emergency pack he found shoved at the bottom of her purse or stuck up under the cutlery drawer. His mother never called him out on it, but he always knew she appreciated the help when she hugged him tightly, caressing his blonde hair.

Tonight he reached over and grabbed her nervous hand, holding it between his strong hands. There were times when he thought she was completely mental, but in the end she was still his mother and he loved her. Vernon sauntered into the room, having gone to check the rest of the house for signs of his nephew. Judging by the look on his face Harry was definitely gone and Dudley was a little jealous, he wished he could escape sometimes.

"Well, Petunia, the brat is gone for good," he sighed, falling into his armchair, rubbing the throbbing vein in his temple. "Completely ungrateful if you ask me, just disappearing like that. Bet you anything he will want to come back next summer."

Mrs. Dursley looked pain, setting the remote down on the arm of the sofa. "We have to let him stay here Vernon, you know that. I don't like it any more than you do," she added, watching her husband's face become skeptical and indignant.

"Sounds suspicious, you can never tell with these people, shifty, untrustworthy… I bet none of them want to deal with Harry so they just pin him on us all summer; good honest, hard working folks like ourselves."

"I know you don't believe it, honey. But you are going to have to trust me, if what Harry told us is true then I'm willing to run the chance of having him here if it protects him from…"

"Lord What's-His-Face? Petunia, don't tell me you believe this nonsense. It's all just a plan to keep him coming back here."

Dudley watched his parents with fascination, this was the first time they had said so much about Harry in front of him. He had no idea that his cousin hadto come back every holiday. Wanting to hear more he began to sink back into the sofa, trying to mask his presence.

His mother looked stricken, her free hand tapping the armrest nervously. "I don't want to believe any more than you do… but… I have to." She looked up at her husband, fear in her eyes. "That isn't something his lot talks about lightly, I remember Lily…" Petunia stopped, shuddering uncontrollably. "Lily told me some really awful stuff, Vernon. Harry is just as much a bother to me as he is to you, but I'm not going to throw him out if there is a chance Lord Voldemort is back."

Dudley and Vernon looked up at the woman who looked shocked that she had just said the name aloud, it was the second time in a week that she had known more about the wizarding world than she let on, and judging by her reaction she wasn't happy with the fact.

Vernon was speechless. Dudley, on the other hand, could vaguely hear his cousin's voice telling them all that Voldemort had returned and was probably the reason those things had been in the alleyway that night. Thinking about it made Dudley's mind freeze, stuck on how desolate he was. Shaking it off, Dudley was determined to be strong; he was a champion boxer after all. Still, he was with his mother in this instance. If they could do something to help it would be unfair to leave Harry to his own devices. Dudley didn't understand everything since his parents refused to say anything outright, but what he did pick up added to his theory that Harry had been escorted from the house, like some sort of celebrity.

The image of his cousin, dressed to the nines in a nice suit, walking down a red carpet while photographers took a million pictures of him waving happily crossed Dudley's mind, making him chuckle louder than he thought because both his parents looked at him, worry etched across their faces. Both of them were sure that his mind was still addled and fragile, and though Dudley was prone to nasty flashbacks, he thought himself quite sane.

"I think you should go lay down, Diddykins," his mother crooned, slipping her hand from his. "It's been a long night and you still don't look well."

"Let the boy be, Petunia. He's tough…" The words emitted from his father's mouth, but Dudley knew the man didn't mean it; he was just as worried as his wife. It had taken a loud argument on Dudley's part to keep them from taking him straight to the hospital.

Sighing, Dudley got up, leaning over his mother to brush a kiss across her cheek. They were bound to continue their discussion as soon as he left, but for now it was over. "Night," he muttered, heading up the stairs. At the landing he stopped and heard his father say louder than he probably intended, "Do you really want to chance the boy in the house with Dudley, he seems to have it in for the boy."

"Vernon, keep it down, Dudley will hear you."

In the bathroom Dudley stared at his reflection and it was easy to understand why his parents were still worried. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, contrasting with the pallor of his face, giving him the appearance of a zombie you would see in a B-movie. Touching the surface of the mirror Dudley quietly wished for the second time that night that he was somewhere other than number Four Privet Drive.

Reaching into his back pocket Dudley extricated the letter, locking the bathroom door. Sitting on the toilet, he ripped open the heavy parchment envelope, pulling out the letter carefully. Shaking it open, his beady eyes narrowed, trying to comprehend the tiny scratch letters that covered the page.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley

You may be aware that four night ago your nephew Harry Potter was forced to use the Patronus charm in order to save not only his own skin, but that of your son as well, from the Dementors. These creatures are highly dangerous, causing all those in close proximity to feel desolate and hopeless.

Normally they are guarding the wizard prison Azkaban but in light of the recent reappearance of the Dark Lord we can't be sure if they have defected.

The Ministry has asked for Harry's presence at a hearing on the 12th of August, as I'm sure you are aware, to discuss the matter of his use of magic both outside school and in the presence of a muggle. We are sure that he will be acquitted of all charges, but as things are going in the Ministry there is still some doubt.

Harry is now in our care and on his way to a safe house. He shall remain there for the remainder of the summer, but we request that you once again take him back at the beginning of next summer. More than ever the protective charm on your residence is important to your nephew's survival now that the Dark Lord is back. The next few years will be interesting, to say the least, and we hope that we can count on your cooperation. Harry is just as important to us as I'm sure he is to you.

Remus Lupin

Dudley laughed at the last line, Harry was less important to them than the blender. Still, he was amazed at the intricacies of it all, and even more amazed that someone considered Harry Potter important. The idea had been in his head all night, but to have it confirmed was a little disconcerting. His cousin, who was only good for a punching bag and a good laugh, merited special protections, body guards, and safe houses.

Rereading the letter again, Dudley was interested in the protective charm on his house. Peering out the tiny bathroom window he was sure that it would pop out to him, like a glowing dome or something, but outside the night sky was spotted with stars and looked like it always had.

Still, the letter confirmed Harry's story that he was protecting Dudley, and remembering how he felt when it all happened, Dudley was grateful that his cousin had. Magic still made him nervous, but for the first time he saw that it wasn't all about stupid card tricks, there was a danger to it, but there was hope. Even though he had been close to passing out, Dudley could still feel the warming glow of Harry's Patronus as it sauntered past him, chasing the dementor down. For that second Dudley knew everything was going to be just fine in the end.

&

Now he was sitting here with Piers two years later and there was no denying that all wasn't right in Little Whinging. For the last year the town had been blanketed in a fog, which at first had been amusing, but now everyone was beginning to feel damp and cold all the time. Piers wasn't the only one. There were a few cases where the person would just lose their mind, as the stories went. One day they were laughing and smiling and the next day nothing seemed to register, like they were no longer themselves. Dudley hadn't met anyone that experienced this, but it was hard to avoid the stories.

There were even rumors of suicides, but propriety forced the families of the deceased to cover it up. They didn't want anyone to know that their loved one had killed themselves; it was something to be ashamed of, like they had failed to save their own family member.

Harry was still at school, but Dudley wished that he was here now. Maybe he could do something to get rid of the chill, if even for a second. Dudley wasn't as bad off; every time he felt like it was all hopeless he just remembered the silver light of hope. Piers, on the other hand, didn't have that option and Dudley watched as his best mate went from a smiling, laughing, healthy young lad to an angst bag that drew pictures of death and gravestones, talking about how much he hated life now.

Right now Piers was being almost normal, but Dudley was sure that it was just the chocolate he'd given him. It had taken him awhile to remember that Harry had suggested it, but now every time he felt the familiar chill he would take a large bite of chocolate and it would hold the effects off for a little while at least. He had taken to carrying a bag of candies with him at all times and when Piers whispered to Dudley that he felt like dying Dudley didn't hesitate in breaking out the chocolate, even if that meant that he was admitting to not following his diet at all.

There was a soft knock on the door. Before answering, Dudley hopped of his bed and shoved all the wrappers under his bed, straightening his shirt he flipped the lock of his door and opened it. His mother stood on the other side her face looking like spoiled oatmeal, a vacuum clutched in her hand.

"Your Aunt Marge is coming for a visit," she said shakily. "Some wild animal killed all of her dogs, apparently he tore them limb from…" Petunia shuttered, cutting herself off. "Anyway, she can't stay at home anymore and is going to stop over here for a few days before heading up to your Grandmother's house."

Dudley's eyes widened, and though the death of the dogs didn't upset him, he still felt sorry for his aunt, those animals were her life. "How is she holding up?"

"She is crushed, of course," and though Petunia still looked upset, her tone of voice gave away that she thought it was stupid to be depressed about the death of some dirty dogs. "She should be here in a few hours."

Which would explain why she looked sick, Marge had given her absolutely no advanced notice and now Petunia had to rush to scrub down every surface in the house before her sister-in-law arrived. Even if he wanted to, Dudley wouldn't have offered his help; Petunia seemed to think that Dudley shouldn't have to do any housework; that he had more important things to do. Which was fine by him, he preferred to be locked up in his room while his mother tore through the house.

"So make yourself look sharp," she added her voice short and annoyed. "Piers should probably be getting home too. Doesn't your mother miss you?" She peered past Dudley, directing the conversation at Piers who had until that time been playing with loose bit of string on his pants.

Dudley knew the answer was no, but Piers shrugged his shoulders like it was possible. If his mother wasn't drunk off her ass she would sometimes notice that Piers was there, just long enough to tell him that he ruined her life or something equally endearing.

"Well, I will see you both later. I've got to go get Marge's room ready." Petunia shuffled down the hall, dragging the vacuum behind like a dead body.

Shutting his door, Dudley turned to look at his friend who was beginning to pale again. That was the problem with chocolate, it never lasted long enough. Silently he stood up, coming up to Dudley's chest, his thin face turned up.

"I guess that's my cue," he said, his voice weak and tired. "I'll see you around, Big D." Opening the door he walked out, letting it shut behind him. Dudley had intended for him to stay until his mother got really annoyed, but Piers seemed to be glad to have an excuse to leave.

Sighing, Dudley fell onto his bed. Everything was falling apart, not quickly, more like a decomposing body, rotting and collapsing in on itself.

"Like all the happiness was gone…" he said for the second time that day, letting the words reverberate off the ceiling.