Disclaimer: Dudley, the adult Dursleys, Privet Drive Number 4 (including the cupboard under the stairs) and Harry himself belong to JK Rowling, just like anything else you can recognized. The idea for this story belongs to me and anyone else who by some chance had a similar idea.
It was cold in his cupboard.
Of course, it was always cold in his cupboard in December, but still, he couldn't quite find sleep. He was just freezing. It felt like there were icicles growing between his toes, and his nose basically was one large icicle. For a moment, he wondered whether it would come off if he tried to tap it. It just might.
The blanket he had was much too thin for a cold December night like this one, he was all too critically aware of that. But he also knew he wouldn't freeze to death. There'd been colder nights than this one, and he still lived and was in all his limbs' possession, hadn't even come close to losing them, at least not from the cold.
He lay still, all curled up, hoping some warmth would gather. It probably wouldn't, but one could always hope.
He heard a door from the floor above opening and closing. His cupboard was open by just a tiny gap today. He hadn't closed it properly when going to sleep, and he was too tired and too cold to do it now.
The floor creaked. From the sound, he guessed it was probably Dudley. He always stepped on that particular board. Harry didn't quite know why, and it had never quite mattered to him. Maybe he believed it was lucky or something. Maybe it was just because it was just his step-length away from his room, Harry had no idea.
Probably-Dudley opened another door. Not the bathroom door, Harry knew how that sounded because Uncle Vernon had told him at dinner that he should oil it tomorrow because it shrieked, but another door.
Probably-Dudley switched on the light. Yes, it had to be Dudley. He'd just opened his parents' rooms door. It had to be, because the shadows always fell just like that when Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's bedroom door was opened at night when the light was switched on.
"Mum, Dad?"
Dudley's voice sounded uncertain, like the young child he was, not at all like when he was chasing Harry with his 'friends'.
Harry heard a yawn.
"What is it, Duddykins?"
"I couldn't sleep."
"Why not?"
"I... I had a nightmare."
Dudley whispered that last one.
"Come on, Diddydums. Come to Mum and Dad."
Harry heard the sound of Dudley creeping in under the sheets, lying in between his parents, he guessed.
Then, the light was switched off.
It was times such as this he really, really wished to be Dudley.
To have someone who cared for him and wanted him.
To have someone who'd let him sleep beside them when he couldn't sleep at night, all alone in the dark.