Walkies

Harry had been understandably suspicious as soon as money was mentioned. Compared to the new-found pessimistic and decent Dudley, a Dursley ploy to acquire his family's gold was more believable. But he had agreed to the jogging, which really amounted to a glorified stroll while Dudley puffed and sweated and moaned, generally making a spectacle of himself.

Apart from a few run-ins with Dudley's cronies, the only thing of note was the appearance of a huge stray. Jet black and scary thin he made for an imposing figure. Dudley had emitted the hypothesis that he was some bastard cross between a Great Dane and a Husky, or some other wolf-like breed.

At first they had seriously considered calling the pound, as the dog seemed ill. It probably had rabies and it wasn't even neutered; but the huge stray had grown on them, to the point that they had conspired a trip to the supermarket, then regretted it dearly when they missed the bus and had to lug the 10kg bag of dog food. They had also made a scene in front of the vet when an argument on names nearly escalated to fisticuffs. In the end, the "I'm the one paying" argument won out. The newly named Dragon now had a typical black spiked collar. It also put up surprisingly well with a delousing shampoo when the Dursley adults were away on a shopping trip. Resulting in hair covered...everything, and a blocked drain. If dog hair in copious amounts wasn't enough, it had too shake itself dry at all the awkward moments.

Dudley had been slightly disappointed at the lack of immediate change, but spending time with his cousin on friendlier terms had been nice, and Dragon was a delight, even if he was a big drain on his allowance. A dog that big ate a lot. He didn't notice any immediate weight loss either, he had thought that jogging was just an ordeal, both physical and for his ego, but then he had noticed that he didn't seem quite as winded after going up the stairs.

This had given him the motivation necessary for his flagging dedication. For a week he had gone jogging every day. He had settled on once every two days, it gave his aching legs time to recover, and running when the burn was at its worst felt if not pleasant, satisfying.

It had been an unpleasant surprise, when they had realised that the days were getting shorter, and soon they would part ways, each into their own school, two different to be able to relate.

Harry had been gingerly asking whether Vernon could give him a lift to London so he could his school things when Dudley had blurted out that he wanted to come. This had not gone down well. Harry had been accused of subverting the Dursley's precious son, of bewitching him to make him do his dirty deeds. In the end it had only been cut short by Dudley saying that he wasn't going to miss out on anything the freak was getting. If he got to go shopping and to visit the circus, then so did he. Vernon at least, had seen the logic, he had said that he refused to be responsible for anything that happened, and that he most certainly would not be setting foot into that madhouse. He understood a boy's tendency to want to do everything his elders warned him of, but it would be on his own head. Some things were best left alone. That being said, if he wanted to do something that foolish, he refused to be part of it. They could bloody well take the bus.

And so they had. The long ride had mostly been spent in companionable silence, common sense dictating that Dudley's questions should be kept for a more private setting.

They became quite damp during the trek, London being in its usual state, a fine summer rain had been upholding the family honour, proving that English summer rain could defy laws of physics by being a great deal wetter and intrusive than it had any business being.

It had been with a great deal of relief that Harry had taken his cousins hand and dragged him through the entrance to the alley. Once away from prying eyes, a drying charm dealt with their state of sogginess.