"It's over!"

Dudley Dursley woke up suddenly to the sound of Daedalus Diggle bursting into his room. He rubbed his eyes, still half asleep, and stared hazily at the old man. "What's over?"

"The war! He's done it! Harry Potter has defeated You-Know-Who for good!"

The old man went tearing out of the room, no doubt to wake up Petunia and Vernon with his good news. Dudley almost pitied him- waking up Vernon was always an unpleasant task, and especially when it was news of his "freakish" nephew, even if it was good news. Sure enough, he could hear Vernon roaring and Petunia shrieking over the sound of Diggle's excited squeaking. No going back to sleep now, he supposed. He walked out of the room into the living room of the small three-bedroom flat they all shared and sat on the couch, deciding he'd probably be better off watching telly for a bit while things settled down. Diggle walked out of his parents' room, shaking his head in disappointment. "You'd think they'd be more excited, considering they've done nothing but complain about this place since we got here."

Dudley shrugged- he knew better than to expect his parents to be excited about anything coming from Diggle. "So what happened?"

Diggle looked at him, surprised. Dudley didn't often try to start conversations. While not as outright hostile as his parents, he mostly kept his distance from the old man. "With Harry?" Dudley nodded.

"I don't have all the details, but I know there was a huge battle at Hogwarts, and Harry and You-Know-Who dueled, and Harry won and You-Know-Who was destroyed. That's all the letter said- I expect they'll tell us more when they get the chance."

Dudley looked down at his hands, thinking. He still found it hard to reconcile his idea of his scrawny cousin with the hero he apparently was to the wizarding world. The idea of Harry fight away anyone, let alone this "Voldemort" fellow everyone was so terrified of, was honestly impossible to imagine. "Diggle? Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" the old man responded, looking up from the note he was hastily dashing off.

"What happened to Harry? I mean, I know Voldem- You-Know-Who killed his parents, and he wanted to kill Harry, but that's it."

Diggle set down his quill, his attention now focused on the Dursley boy. "You mean while he's been away at school and all that?"

Dudley nodded.

"Well, mind you, I can only tell you what I know, since a lot of this information is restricted. But I'll tell you what I can. Now, the story starts before Harry was born. Dumbledore was interviewing a candidate for a Divination position at the school- that's like telling the future and all that sort of thing- and she made a very important prediction about your cousin..."

Dudley listened as Diggle spent the next hour telling him about his cousin's secret life. When he reached Harry's fourth year, Dudley wanted to die of shame. When he thought of all those times he teased Harry over calling out Cedric's name in his sleep- he couldn't believe what a total git he'd been. He couldn't believe Harry had made it so long without killing him. He would have been justified, that's for damn sure. That he had gone through all that and what Dudley and Mum and Dad had put him through at home…. It was more than anyone should have to deal with. He sat in silence, trying to process everything he had learned about his quiet cousin. Diggle seemed to sense Dudley's mixed feelings and let him think in silence, going back to his half-finished missive.

"Well, thank God this nightmare is over. Back to the old house then, son! And now that blasted boy'll be gone, so we'll finally be free of his freakishness for good!"

Dudley turned to look at his father, frustration with his close-minded attitude rising. "No."

Vernon Dursley blinked, looking shocked at his son's refusal. Sensing trouble, Petunia turned, looking concerned. "No?"

"No. I'm not going back with you. I'm getting a flat in the city. I think it's time I figured out some things for myself."

Vernon began to swell with rage. "The bloody hell you will!"

Petunia joined his protestations. "No! Not my baby! You're not ready!"

Dudley calmly looked at both of them. "Yes. I am. If Harry can face the man who murdered his parents, I think I can handle my own flat. I love both of you, but I need to figure out some things for myself."

Vernon blustered incoherently, tendrils of moustache fluttering with anger, but Petunia seemed to understand what Dudley was saying. She laid a hand on Vernon's shoulder and started to tear up. "Vernon, look at our big strong handsome boy! All grown up!"

Vernon paused at her words, looking at his son. Dudley wasn't throwing a tantrum, but he was just as sure of his choice as he had been as a screaming child. Petunia was right, he was grown up. Clearly, he was ready to follow in his father's footsteps and become a self-made man. He coughed awkwardly. "Very well, Dudley. I suppose you're right."

Dudley looked at both of them, nodded, and turned towards the door of the flat for the last time. Diggle was standing by the door, having heard the whole thing. As Dudley walked by him, he caught his eye, just for a moment. And in that moment, Dudley could swear he saw respect in his eyes. It was a new feeling for Dudley, and he savored it.

So it turned out there was more to independence than just getting a flat. Dudley started to regret his decision about 10 minutes after he moved into his new flat, when he realized that the only thing he knew how to make was cereal, and cereal was not enough to live on. He had moved out alright, besides the wailing from his mum and his dad's blustering advice ("Be sure to lock your door! Don't want any damn immigrants coming in to rob you or murder you in the middle of the night!"), and he was all signed up for his courses at uni. The hard part, it turned out, was the day-to-day life. It took him about two loads of pink laundry to realize he needed to separate it all out, and the cooking was still a travesty. He got desperate enough that he signed up for a late night cooking course at the student activities center, trying not to think about what his father would say if he saw his son in an apron. Well, if it was a choice between his manly pride and eating, he'd take eating. He'd been moved out two weeks and he'd already lose fifteen pounds. Much more of this and he'd be forced back home out of sheer starvation.

He was on his way to his first cooking class when he got lost. He turned a corner without looking and smashed into someone running the opposite direction. Books went flying, and Dudley barely caught the small blonde before she went flying too.

"OhmygoodnessI'msosorryI'minsucharushan-"

Dudley waited for her to take a breath, picking up her books and papers. When she paused her rushed apology he stuck out his hand. "Dudley Dursley. My fault. Can I help you get wherever you're going? I'm afraid your bag split."

The girl looked down to verify his statement and groaned. "Well this is just turning into a real pile of shite. I'd really appreciate it, if you don't mind. I'm supposed to be teaching this introductory cooking class in like 10 minutes and I got held up late at my last class."

Dudley smiled. "I think I'm headed to the same place. Must be meant to be. Didn't catch your name?"

The pretty blonde smiled, swiping blond hair out of her face. "Marjorie Simmons. Thanks again."

They finished gathering up her books and Dudley followed Marjorie towards the cooking class, not realizing he was smiling, just a little bit.

"You don't! I've told you half a dozen times, you can't just put frozen chicken in the oven!"

Dudley frowned. "But why not? Shouldn't the oven just thaw it for me?"

Marjorie groaned in mock desperation. "What am I going to do with you, Dursley? It's been three months and I'm still afraid you'll starve if I leave you alone."

Dudley smiled and pulled her closer for a kiss. "Don't leave me then, stupid."

The cooking class had only been a month, but that was all it took for Dudley and Marjorie to start spending all their time together. It took another month for him to get up the courage to ask her out, despite her casually hinting at it for weeks, but after that things had moved along steadily. Dudley didn't know if he'd ever been this happy. Marjorie was everything he hadn't realized he needed in his life. She made sure he ate, and ate right. She took him out with her to poetry readings and museums and concerts and all the other things his father had always told him were only for "bloody liberals". Piers didn't like her, but then again, Piers and he didn't seem to have all that much in common anymore. Marjorie's friends were so different. They all argued and shouted at each other constantly, but it wasn't the kind of arguing that went on with his father and his friends. Though he didn't join in often, Dudley never felt like he was in danger of having his opinions shouted down or that he would be judged if he didn't say the right thing. He savored the feeling of community he had when he was with them.

Suddenly, a knock at the door drew both their attention away from the dinner they were theoretically preparing. Marjorie looked at Dudley, confused. "Were you expecting someone?"

Dudley shook his head and went to open the door. He was shocked to find Vernon and Petunia on the other side. "Mum? Dad? What are you doing here?"

Vernon brushed past his son into the flat, closely followed by his wife. "Well, we haven't heard from you much in the last couple months, so we thought we'd come visit. What smells so good?"

Before Dudley could answer his father, Marjorie came out of the kitchen. "Dudley? Who was at the door?" She stopped dead, suddenly aware of the large man and admittedly rather horse-faced woman in Dudley's living room.

"Marjorie! Um. Mum, Dad, this is Marjorie. We've been seeing each other for the last couple months. Marjorie, these are my parents. They decided to stop by and surprise me."

The four parties all stared at each other, Vernon and Petunia and Marjorie shocked by each other's presence, Dudley secretly wishing for something to catch fire, if only to break up the awkwardness. He could practically hear his mother and father examining her, and found himself marking off all the things they would find wrong with her. Messy hair, check. Too much eyeliner, check. T-shirt for a friend's band, check. Trousers covered with dirt and grass, check. Turquoise toenails, check. They wouldn't see how her beautiful her hair was, or how it was messy because he liked to run his fingers through it when they kissed. They wouldn't see how bright her eyeliner made her blue eyes. They wouldn't see how all the things that would seem imperfect to him were the things he liked best about her. Suddenly feeling protective, he quickly walked over to her and put a protective arm around her, drawing her close.

"We were just making dinner, actually. If you'd like to join us, I think we have enough. Right, Marjorie?"

She looked up at him, clearly nervous but still trying to reassure him. "Sure. I'll just put away the chicken for now and make baked ziti instead. If that's okay with both of you?"

Vernon and Petunia shook off their shock of the appearance of this blonde woman they'd never heard of before. "Um- er- sure," said Vernon, not exactly sure of what baked ziti was, but not knowing what else to say.

Marjorie nodded and turned back into the kitchen. Dudley hung back awkwardly, preparing himself for the interrogation he knew was coming.

"So- two months, hmm?" You could practically feel the subtext in Petunia's question.

Dudley winced. "Yeah- Marjorie and I met a bit before then, but we've been seeing each other since."

Vernon huffed a bit. "So, can we assume that since we haven't heard about this girl before, it's not serious?"

His words woke something in Dudley he hadn't felt since that last night in the flat when we were in hiding. He looked his father dead in the eye and said "You should assume nothing of the kind. I love her. I haven't told her yet, but I do. And if you are rude to her in any way, I swear that I will never forgive either of you." He stared them both down, letting them both see the conviction in his eyes.

Petunia was taken aback by her son's vehemence. She'd never seen him like this. He looked truly grown up, clearly ready to fight if it meant defending this Marjorie girl. She laid a mediating hand on her husband's arm and looked back to her son. "I think we can manage that."

After dinner, Petunia and Vernon took their leave. As they left, and Marjorie and Dudley waved to them, his arm still holding him tightly to her, she found herself thinking how she and Vernon had looked at each other when they had first met, and realized that this was more than just some fling.

After they watched his parents turn away, the pair turned back inside. "Well," Marjorie said. "That could have gone worse."

Dudley nodded. "I love you."

Marjorie, caught off guard, stopped walking and looked up at him. "What?"

Dudley smiled. "I love you."

Marjorie shook her head and smiled. "That's what I thought you said. Why are you saying it now?"

Dudley pulled her back to his chest, tucking his chin on top of her head. "When they showed up, I was thinking about all the things they would probably think were unsuitable about you and I was so worried about what they would think of you- and then I realized I don't care, because regardless of what they thought, I love you."

Marjorie smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. "I love you too, of course."

Dudley was sweating. Not a little bit of sweating. He was sweating profusely, and it had a lot more to do with the tiny box in his pocket than the disgustingly hot apartment. He was waiting for Marjorie to get home from class, and of course the AC unit had burned out, and his roses were wilting, and he didn't think he'd ever been this nervous in his entire life. When the door opened and Marjorie came rushing in, he thought he would faint. Had she ever looked so beautiful? She was talking about her day, which he would ordinarily have been focused on, but all he could think about was his speech, and all of a sudden he just blurted it out.

"Marjorie, will you marry me?"

Marjorie put down her grocery bags slowly on the counter and turned around slowly, not sure that she'd heard what she thought she'd heard, and there he was, down on one knee, a giant half-wilted bouquet of roses in one hand and a small box with a very sparkly ring in the other. "Dudley?"

He looked at her, smiling. Still terrified, but smiling. "Marjorie, I had this whole speech prepared but right now I can't remember it, so I'm just going to tell you that I love you, and I know a year isn't a long time to be together, but I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so will you marry me?"

Marjorie started to cry.

"Of course I'll marry you, you giant idiot! Now put down those goddamn roses and get over here and kiss me!"

The wedding was in December, just before Christmas. It was a fairly small affair, despite his mother's protestations. Just family and close friends. Of course, the appearance of family meant Dudley had to explain about his cousin and his wife, but it was only fair she know what she was marrying into, and Marjorie took the whole matter remarkably well. The ceremony and reception went off without a hitch, and when they climbed into bed at the end of the night, both were tired but happy. Dudley was already in bed when Marjorie came to join him.

"Dudley?"

"Hmmm?" he responded, already half asleep.

"I still haven't given you your wedding present yet."

"Can't it wait until morning?" he asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"It really can't," she said, her face glowing with excitement.

"Oh, alright," he agreed sleepily, sitting up. "What is it?"

"I'm pregnant."

Dudley was dumbfounded. It took him a moment, but when he did he kissed her harder than he ever had before and pulled her into his chest, a giant smile growing on his face. "You know for sure?"

She looked at him, grinning, and nodded. "I had a doctor's appointment yesterday. I wanted to make sure before I told you. And you know what? I have a good feeling it's a girl."

As they sat there together, they reveled in the fact that they were a family, and all Dudley could think was that he didn't think anything could bring him down.

Dudley was watching Izzy. His daughter was, besides his wife, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, but she was also impossible. The last year and a half had driven both him and Marjorie up the wall. Izzy, while good tempered, constantly gave them heart attacks, as she had this nerve-wracking habit of disappearing from her crib and appearing in the most unfortunate places (like inside the washing machine.) This alone gave Dudley his suspicions, but this morning, he was fairly certain he had seen her making her stuffed animals dance without touching them. She'd stopped as soon as he'd walked in, so he wasn't sure, which was why he was currently pretending to sleep in the rocker in her room.

He saw her peeking over the edge of the crib, watching him too. Apparently satisfied her daddy really was asleep, the felt pony in front of her suddenly sat up of his own accord and started running around her crib, followed by the rest of her animals. Dudley watched for a moment, just to be sure, then got up (the animals all dropped as soon as he did) and went into his bedroom for his mobile.

"Hello?"

"Harry. It's Dudley. I need your help with something. Izzy- I think she's- well, she's started making her animals move. Without touching them. I think she's a witch."