Harry Potter

A dark haired boy scrambled out the door and headed toward the park. Seconds after him, a much larger boy came barreling out, shouting, "You get back here, you little freak!"

The chase went for about a block until they turned a corner and stopped. Panting, the blonde turned to the boy. "Are you alright, Harry? That sounded like it hurt."

The boy, Harry, smiled weakly. "No, I'm fine." he said with just the slightest wince.

The older boy frowned. "Harry, I heard something snap. Did he crack a rib again?"

Harry suddenly found the pavement very interesting.

He fumed, "he did, didn't he! And just after your arm finished healing!"

Harry's gaze snapped up, "Dudley, I'm fine! I can handle it, just like I always have."

Dudley looked down. "I know you can," he sighed, "but you shouldn't have to."

It was hard for him, seeing his cousin hurt and not being able to stop it. But they needed him to stay in his parents' good graces if he was to keep helping Harry.

Dudley could remember clearly the day he realized how truly screwed up his family was. He was watching his father shove little Harry into his cupboard for the umpteenth time that week when a stray thought struck him. How come he had two rooms to himself, no chores, and anything else he could ever want, while Harry was treated so poorly?

The appalled, disgusted look his mother gave him when he asked "Why do you hate Harry?" would forever be seared into his memory. The four year old's question had been answered by a long winded, nearly shouted rant on the boy's 'freakishness', how he had to 'earn his keep for what they were putting up with' and 'should be grateful that they didn't leave him at an orphanage to rot'. The sheer hatred in his parents' expressions had surprised and scared him. The whole ordeal nagged at his thoughts as Harry was still locked in his cupboard through dinner; Dudley knew from experience that Harry wouldn't be given food, and probably wouldn't be let out, for nearly a whole day.

And so it was that late that night, unable to stop thinking about it, Dudley snuck downstairs. He made a sandwich for the first time in his life, and grabbed a cup of water for good measure. He opened the cupboard under the stairs, and winced at the guarded and scared look in his cousins wide green eyes. Dudley held out the sandwich and the water. Harry regarded him warily before snatching both out of his hands, obviously frightened that it was some sort of trick to taunt him with food.

"I'm sorry," Dudley said, not missing the surprise on Harry's face. "For everything." He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure of what else he could say.

"...thank you..." Dudley almost didn't hear the whispered voice, but he smiled when he saw Harry eating. Then he thought of something else.

"Don't let mum and dad know about that," he said, pointing at the sandwich. "Or else they'll punish the both of us." At Harry's nod, he locked the cupboard as it was before and crept back up to bed.

He stayed up a lot over the years, waiting for his parents to go to sleep so he could let Harry out. At least they had school to act themselves, as well as whenever Dudley would 'chase' Harry out of the house. It was an odd arrangement, but it was one that worked. The boys had found that the more obvious Dudley's abuse of Harry became, the less effort his parents put into beating him, thinking Dudley had 'taught the freak a lesson'.

Dudley didn't like it, but he would do what he had to to protect his cousin.