The golden haired punk witch
Content warning: An abuser's POV.
Petunia Dursley was set in her ways, and liked it that way.
Well mostly, it was nice when The Boy's influence had faded and she and Vernon could look at each other again, feel each other again.
He really had been a needy little brat. Nothing like her own son, but at least her affection for her own son was not coerced.
At least the ambience carried by her own son was innocence and desire and not malice and violence.
But the brat had finally matured to the point of choosing his own attitude to project, instead of only violence, malice, and despair. And then of course he found friends that liked him well enough to believe whatever he told them about where the malice had been coming from.
Good riddance. She had hope for what he'd turn out to be, but she had no desire to be a part of his life any more than she had to be.
Why was she even thinking of him on a fine day like this?
She made breakfast for her men, Vernon was already climbing out of the shower, whistling like he always used to, before Dudley had come along and stretched the budget a bit, before the brat and his black cloud had moved in, and stretched everything to the breaking point.
"Dudley? Breakfast."
He'd been out late again, probably she'd have to shake him to get him up on time.
It wasn't a school day, so she would have let him sleep. But he didn't like his breakfast cold, and he didn't like his exercise hot, so there was nothing for it but for him to get up on time anyway.
She climbed the stairs and pushed the door open.
There was a brown head with bleach-blond braids laying on his chest.
That was an unexpected development.
There were black boots and short trousers on the floor by his bed.
And a black dress hanging out as if discarded in the night rather than before they'd gone to bed.
If she kept the dress on until after he'd fallen asleep the first time, maybe things weren't so terribly far along.
"Dudley?" she whispered.
But his shoulder was bare. Not that that wasn't par for the course since this heat wave started.
At least Her shoulders were not bare.
Good.
Petunia walked over and pounded the edge of the mattress with her knee. That was usually enough to rouse him.
He opened his eyes, looked disoriented.
The brown head of blond braids lifted, and looked around and rubbed her nose.
"Hu…Leona," said Dudley.
"Dudley?" she climbed off of him and sat up, revealing a tank top and some out of fashion knickers that frankly Petunia didn't know were still on the market.
She caught sight of Petunia and went still.
"Mom, this is Leona… Tonks?"
Leona nodded.
"Leona, this is my mother, Petunia Dursley."
Leona nodded, "How do you do?"
"I'm alright," said Petunia, "Did you sleep well?"
A dark cloud passed over the girl's face. But she nodded with a dutiful, "Yes, thank you."
"How long have you two known each other?"
She opened her mouth and blushed.
"We've known each other since Primary," said Dudley, "well," he amended, "we went to primary together."
Petunia dignified that with a nod, "and how long are you staying?"
"Her …" Dudley's face contorted with anger, "Her date for the summer, dumped her last night, in a bar, in London."
"And you just happened to be there to comfort her?" said Petunia.
"I just happened to be there to offer her a place to stay until she can wire her family for train fare or whatever." said Dudley.
"Bus, probably," said Leona, and looked away with a shudder of revulsion.
Petunia glared at her, which seemed to be lost on her, but not on Dudley.
"I intended to offer her the bed in Harry's room," he explained, "but there's no bed there, and Aunt Marge's room was locked, so …"
"So it was only then that you let her … cry on your shoulder?"
Dudley's face did something that implied there was much more to it than that, and that Dudley himself didn't understand most of it.
Which might, might hopefully mean he wasn't taking advantage of her. It did not mean she wasn't trying to take advantage of him.
But then, she was here as a beggar, so … taking advantage was already the soup of the day, the question was … how much to protect whom from whom.
"Well," said Petunia, "I'll find the key to Marge's room."
"That's alright," she said, looking ready to cry, "you don't have to put yourself to the trouble."
"What?"
"I mean," she glanced at Dudley, "Dudley and I have … come to an arrangement, most of one anyway."
Dudley nodded emphatically and glanced puppy dog eyes at each of them, then frowned and got up, dressing quickly.
"Doesn't matter," he said, "Aunt Marge's room is on the cool side of the house, you won't mind it as much there."
She blinked at him, then relaxed, "alright," she turned back to Petunia, expectantly, hopefully.
"There's breakfast on the table."
Her eyes lit up, not happiness … surprise.
.
Breakfast went well, Vernon only asked three questions and was content with she'd be gone in about a week, and wasn't yet calling Dudley her boyfriend.
After that Dudley said he was going for a run and invited her along.
She looked really torn, but shook her head and started on the dishes.
Petunia tried to tell her 'no' but … beggar wanting to help.
Petunia let her work, but kept an eye on her technique. It wouldn't do to end up sick from trusting a stranger's meticulousness about food safety, specifically dish sanitation.
Without cutting any noticeable corners, she finished in time to join Dudley on his second lap of the neighbourhood, and she must have kept up with him in spite of the boots. When they came back she politely requested a bath towel and permission to use the hallway bathroom upstairs.
So politeness was nice.
.
And then Dudley was gone off with his friends again.
It took Petunia most of the morning to realise that she was still upstairs puttering away.
Petunia went up to investigate.
She was kneeling in the middle of Harry's very empty room, with reference books and parchment strewn around her. Looking for all the world like Lily in the middle of a summer project.
Petunia stepped inside and leaned against the door frame.
The girl finished scribbling something and looked up.
"So you're a witch," said Petunia.
She flinched, "It's … it's just history homework," she said, much too defensive.
A normal person, doing real history homework would have scoffed at being accused of witchcraft.
Petunia stalked forward and found a piece of parchment that wasn't just runes. She picked it up and shoved it in the girl's face, "The futhark alone could have been merely translation or ancient poetry, but only witches do algebra, and modulo arithmetic, with futhark runes for variables, Also Greek numerals instead of Arabic, half the time."
The girl trembled.
"Well? Still going to try denying it?"
"Dudley said this room …"
"Dudley said what?"
She hung her head farther, "Said magic was only permitted in this room." She grimaced, "I still don't understand why it matters, the whole property is warded to repel those with hostile intent, AND under notice-me-not AND, and I don't know what else. He said his cousin did it to keep you all safe."
"Hmm," said Petunia, "the magic only being permitted in one place is true, but that place was the tool shed, not this room."
She shrugged, "I haven't actually started any magic yet, I'm still trying to plan it out."
"What's the project."
"Dudley asked for an vest that stays cool."
"What?"
"He noticed that my dress was … he called it 'air conditioned' and asked for a vest the same way, I can copy the runes for that just fine, but the other runes are for deodorising, and I'm trying to figure out the runes for the scents he wants."
"How long do you expect it to take?"
"A couple hours if I could just find the right rune clusters, a couple days if I have to invent them, or if it takes a weird amount of time to prove which scents are even mathematically compatible."
"And how much would you normally charge for the finished product?"
She named a price range that was fairly obviously rounded to a four pound interval, which meant galleons were trading for close to four pounds last time the girl checked.
More than Petunia might have charged her for room, less than she'd have charged for room and board, much less than two nights in a hotel.
Petunia nodded, "And why did you agree to that?"
"It's too damn hot, for one thing," said the girl.
"So, out of the goodness of your heart?"
The girl shivered, and shook her head. Though she gave one nod at the end, before looking down.
"Why then."
She kept looking down, "Before that, sex was on the table, I didn't want it to be on the table. At least, not as … a 'payment method'."
"Good," said Petunia, "I'm glad to hear that."
She relaxed.
"How much extra to make that vest of his knife proof?"
Her head and eyes snapped up to stare at Petunia, then her eyes and her mouth smiled at the challenge. She shrugged, "I can try!"
"Thank you," said Petunia, "and that will pay for your food also."
She nodded, back to humble and contrite.
"Alright," said Petunia, "you've got my permission to be doing the paperwork up here, but move to the shed for the part that might make anything explode or turn to goo."
"Yes, ah—Mrs. Dursley."
Petunia nodded.
Witches these days.
And now she needed to talk to Dudley. Unless…
"And just to clarify, you didn't do anything to make Dudley bring you here?"
She frowned, then reared back, "like a love potion or something?" Angry.
"For instance," said Petunia.
"No," growled the girl, "and most of us want those things to be illegal. The only people who seem not in any hurry to outlaw them is the old Lords that think we won't notice them looking down on the rest of us like peasants, if they continue to permit us access to things like that, which let us look down on each other and on muggles as if they are the peasants." Angry and also bitter. And still only Dudley's age. Interesting. Very like Lily at that age, interesting in deed.
"While the political commentary is interesting," said Petunia, "I only asked specifically about yourself, and specifically about Dudley."
"Right, I didn't do any magic to Dudley," she said, "I didn't do anything to him, unless you count … hair and makeup and that sort of thing, which was never aimed at Dudley specifically."
"Things that most people would rather classify as doing to yourself?"
"Yes, exactly," she said.
"Fine," said Petunia, "Thank you for clarifying."
.
Mid-afternoon she moved out to the shed and Petunia didn't see her again until tea.
"When's Dudley coming home?" she said. As they sat down.
"He's been bouncing back and forth between his friends' houses for tea," said Petunia.
She raised an eyebrow, she looked like Severus' Dad. "Including last night?"
"Yes," said Petunia, "what did happen last night?"
"I don't know where they ate tea, but they ate supper with me and my cousin in a pub in London."
"The cousin who dumped you?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Petunia gave her the sceptical glare right back.
She looked away.
After a while she rallied enough to try again, "So how was your day, Mrs. Dursley?"
"Hot," said Petunia, "I was hoping to get another bed of bulbs in, but I ended up mostly weeding, it's amazing how well some of the beds are doing compared to the others."
"Is it … which ones have enough shade in this heat?"
"Possibly," said Petunia, "How was your day?"
She frowned, then tentatively reached into her pocket to produce four squares of swede leather with futhark runes stencilled into them. She passed three across.
"Well?" said Petunia.
"Smell them," she said, "maybe get them wet first."
Petunia put them in a row, and smelled them each in turn, they smelled like leather.
She ran her glass along each of them, leaving streaks of condensation, which quickly vanished, she smelled them each again, the first was vanilla, lemon, and beeswax. Pleasant but not anything to write home about. Might work as a candle.
She picked up the next, orange peal, vanilla, and honey. Nostalgic but not anything she could put her finger on.
She picked up the last, birthday cake. She blinked and sniffed again, alright: orange, honey, and vanilla, finally in proportion.
"I'm sure, Dudley wanted the last one, but I think the middle one might be better."
The girl nodded, "That's why I'd like to let him choose."
"And this is what you worked on all day?"
She passed across the last square of leather, "I'm considering this one for myself."
Petunia sniffed, dripped condensation on it and sniffed again, wood smoke, flowers, and mint.
"What is that?"
"Sweet sage, catnip," a shrug, "there isn't a rune for bacon."
"No, I wouldn't think so."
The girl smiled shyly and took another bite.
"It's a good start," said Petunia handing the square back, "I'd tone down the smoke by at least an order of magnitude."
She nodded, "I've already done that, twice."
She produced two more squares, "I'm about ready to replace it with either one of these."
Petunia followed procedure, one was Queen Ann's lace and the other was lily.
"I like the lily better, but you'll have to mute it to match the others."
"True," she agreed.
Petunia handed them all back.
"So how do they work?"
"Transfigures water and salt from the sweat into the scent, leaving the only the oils behind to condition the leather."
"Hmm," said Petunia, and contemplated the chemical and physical implications of all that.
.
Apparently she took too long, the girl tried another foray into conversation, "Were you disappointed that Dudley wasn't a wizard?"
"What?" exclaimed Petunia.
"He almost is," said the girl, "and you almost are, I presume Mr. Dursley is the same, I didn't get a chance to decide this morning, with you and Dudley already in the room. Were you disappointed that he wasn't? Or were you happy that he's just like you, half way in between?"
Petunia stared, glared, wanted to claw her way out of her skin, but it wasn't her skin she wanted to escape it was this girl's innocent stupid gaze.
"I hadn't thought about it in those terms," said Petunia, "Why do you ask?"
"There are stories of deaf parents who are annoyed when their children aren't born deaf as well. Usually it's only those with conditions that made them expect their children be born deaf that have much confusion about the matter, but, you know. When I first heard one of those stories, I was horrified that a parent would ask the doctor to make their child deaf. But later I understood, they didn't want their child to feel excluded from the deaf community. Or to grow up and leave and never come back. Not that children should stay forever, only that good parents don't want leaving to happen sooner than it should."
"Then I heard stories from my muggleborn friends, about similar ethical dilemmas being considered, but about magic."
I remember the shock when the church told Mum that Lily being a witch was perfectly natural and not at all the same thing as possession (demonic or otherwise), and only possession was meant to be curable by exorcism. And that the Bible didn't condone the killing of witches, only of necromancers. And of those, the church only condoned punishment of those who practised possession, and giving themselves up to possession by other entities.
"You seem awfully sure of yourself discussing magic with a muggle."
"You're not a muggle, you're a squib, and you've got a mage living here already, or you did, whatever." She shrugged, "You're allowed and expected to know, you just can't spread it around much."
Another hint at how the law was written for the convenience of the magicals, not their normal relatives, how painfully unsurprising.
"How would your parents feel if you weren't magical?"
"Don't know," said the girl, "Never met them."
"What?"
"Mum was a muggleborn, Dad wasn't, they both died in the war, but Dad's family is huge so my relatives just shuffle me around between them whenever one of them gets tired of me."
"And now you're here instead."
"Yeah," said the girl, "Sorry about that."
"Is money an issue, or only the timing of getting some of it delivered to you, or someone getting bored enough to retrieve you?"
She shrugged, "I've sent the message, probably someone will get it tomorrow at breakfast, a day for everyone to argue about it and send howlers to my cousin, a day for her to make excuses and convince her parents, and for them to write letters back, a day for everyone to bicker about whose money or time to come get me, and then a day to visit the bank." A shrug, "maybe a couple days extra to make sure no one can feel obligated to throw me a birthday party for the time I was away from home."
There wasn't anything to say to that, except 'when's your birthday' and Petunia wasn't going to go there.
Vernon's car pulled up. By the time he put his things down and washed up, the girl had made herself scarce.
"Lenny's still here then?" was Vernon's comment on the matter.
"Yes," said Petunia.
"She call her relatives?"
"She said she owled them."
"Owled?"
"Like Harry's kind."
"Oh! Oh, no, not any of that."
"She implied that Dudley knew before he brought her here," said Petunia.
"Oh … did he?"
"And he told her no magic in the house except homework in Harry's room (and I clarified because apparently he didn't): all experiments happen in the tool shed."
Vernon growled inarticulately for several seconds, then shrugged, "So where's Dudley eating tonight?"
"No one saw fit to tell me," said Petunia, "But Lena spilled that he picked her up in a pub in London."
Vernon laughed, "Oh, is that how things are?"
"And," whispered Petunia, "she admitted that the reason she's working so furiously on the magic shirt Dudley asked her for, is because she's afraid the other alternative is that Dudley will take her rent out in … in prostitution."
Vernon laughed for only a second, then frowned, "Was she … serious."
"She was, but … she might be a bit daft, so I'm mostly concerned about whether Dudley was … taking the mickey, or really made her think that was an option, or if it's just her first time begging from non-family, and made assumptions she shouldn't."
"It's not an unjustified worry," said Vernon judiciously, "I mean, Dudley wouldn't do something like that, but there are some who would."
"True," said Petunia.
.
The next time Petunia saw her, she was curled up under Dudley's arm.
So much for staying in Marge's room? Petunia yanked back the covers to find both in crudely-seamed mouse-coloured leather shirts.
This time she was next to Dudley facing away from him, not on top of him.
This time their eyes came open slowly and without surprise at where they found themselves.
Dudley's fingers closed and opened, tracing the gaps between her braids, as if that's what he'd been doing to her when he'd fallen asleep.
Her eyes closed while he did it twice more, then he pushed her slightly and she rolled away and got up facing him. Deferring to him.
Interesting.
He got up and stared at her.
"How was your vest?" she said.
He nodded appreciatively, then picked up the collar to sniff it appreciatively, "seems to work as advertised."
"Good," she said.
She dressed and so did he, and they came downstairs.
She started the skillet soaking before they even sat down to eat.
.
"Lenna," said Vernon,
"Leona," said Leona.
"How are you doing in school?"
"Seventh in my class," she said promptly.
"Who's ahead of you?"
"Hermione Granger, Draco, Padma Patil, Theodore Nott, Justin Finch-Flechly, Harry Potter, or Parvati Patil, or Neville, or I. Depending on subject. Then its all a mix of Megan, Terry, and some others."
"How big's your class size?"
"Umm form size is forty in my year, the lower years are bigger, something of a baby boom after the war. Classes are either that number or half or a quarter of that, depending on the subject and the professor's preference."
"So you're in the top quarter, with Harry and Hermione."
Leona shrugged, "the top six are way ahead of the rest of us. Harry and Hermione are so bored with class they're doing self study in some really advanced stuff. The others probably are too, but well … Theo and Justin do adversarial collaboration not peaceful collaboration." She shrugged, "Let's not talk about who all Draco considers his rivals."
"Humph," said Vernon.
"Why did you ask?"
Vernon grunted.
Dudley leaned over and whispered something in her ear.
She went pale, then dark, and her eyes narrowed on Dudley, then she paused and sat back, not slumped, shrinking and …hyperventilating?
"Wait," she said, "Wait, you … you are all 'Lord Harry Potter's Muggles'? What what … who do I have to promise for him not to hunt me down and kill me?"
Dudley laughed.
Vernon stared at her.
"Mairthin, you are!"
"Dudley, why did you bring me here?"
Dudley laughed harder.
"Shut up, Dudley," she punched his shoulder, "of course I remember Harry from primary just as much as I remember you."
Dudley sobered, and looked guilty, but also triumphant.
She tried to glare at him.
Dudley just gloated back at her.
Vernon cleared his throat, "Just to be clear, the boy is doing well?"
"Yes," she said, "He just won an international school competition."
"How was that done?"
She shrugged, "a lot of cheating apparently, Harry was just … I don't know, gentler about his cheating than the others were."
"What does that mean?"
She shrugged again, "There were three tasks, that were meant to be secret, but the rumours I heard were that all the competitors had figured out what was going on before each task started. Which I guess made it safer for the contestants. Though not for the animals involved."
"How so?"
"The first task was stealing an egg from a nesting mother dragon, all the dragons were crippled in the encounter, except Harry's," she shrugged, "Harry's was dead."
Vernon choked.
Petunia wasn't far behind.
"Second task was rescuing a classmate from enchanted sleep at the bottom of the lake, one contestant rescued theirs, then Harry sailed in and rescued the other three, you know, like he doesn't care about the contest at all, he just kills dragons and rescues people for fun."
"Third task was a maze, and Harry," she sobered and whispered, "he got through it fastest, but came back without his cat, and no one's talked to him since. They say he had to fight things that weren't even supposed to be in the maze."
The tension broke before it could even form, because Dudley laughed again.
She glared at him, then fled the room.
Dudley finished his food, and went after her.
They ran together that day. And Leona seemed rather lost, when she wandered into the kitchen later to find that Petunia had already washed the dishes.
"You finished Dudley's shirt last night?"
"Yeah," she said.
"What are you going to do today?"
"Wander the neighbourhood, visit old haunts, probably. Tell me if you see any owls, yeah?"
Petunia grunted and compressed her lips, but nodded.
.
...-...
1/12 of 1/12 is not zero
Content warning: continued casual gender-bending for privacy.
Content warning: discussion of splinch kink.
Pierce invited everyone except Malcolm over for an ice. So Malcolm had retaliated by inviting everyone except Pierce for 'a trip to the shop for a pop.' Gordon, probably in a fit of solidarity, decided to ride with Malcolm for a pop, Dudley didn't want a pop, or an ice, he wanted to be four degrees cooler, and sparring with Harry.
But he knew he was already four degrees cooler than everyone else, so he didn't begrudge the others.
Also Harry Leona had been moping very weirdly all morning, and a quarter of the times Dudley had caught her eye, she'd blushed and wandered away before he'd gotten close to extricating himself from the current conversation with the gang.
Now the gang had split for different, equally fattening, methods of cooling off. And Dudley didn't care.
And then he'd caught sight of her again: Leona, sitting in Harry's favourite park swing, eking out a bit of wind and shade, and still brooding.
New shirt, actually a new sun dress that she'd tucked in as if she was pretending it was only a shirt. Dudley knew because he'd seen those for sale at the corner store last week. Lumpy tan-and-green streaks, like some demented kind of algae or tiger stripes. Lumpy tiger stripes went with her hair, the green could have gone with her eyes, but didn't.
Knowing her, she'd probably gotten the same pattern in green and black, pink and orange, and off blue and off red. Just to save going back tomorrow and the next day for another clean shirt.
He kind of wished she'd loosen up and wear them as sun dresses instead of with long shorts… but then again, the tight shorts might in fact leave less to the imagination than the frilly shirts might.
It was an interesting question. But regardless of aesthetics, on a day like this it was just too warm to tuck things in.
.
Dudley collapsed on the other swing hard enough the whole swing-set shook.
"What are you doing, Leona?"
"Meditating on the nature of zero."
"No really?" he said.
Leona sighed, "In most runic languages, the default unit of length, is Queen Circe's cubit. Just over twenty inches."
"Big queen?"
"Circe is the Greek goddess of magic, especially known for changing proud greedy men into pigs.'
"She sounds charming," said Dudley, "most of us don't need any help with that."
"Right?" said Leona.
"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt, keep going."
"I actually have a description of the thing I want, except I'd rather substitute in a length of zero, instead of one. But as you might expect that breaks all the math."
"Well, it sounds like it ought to, yeah.'
Leona nodded, "So the most stable fraction that never breaks anything is a twelfth, I can substitute in a twelfth just fine, and yes, it doesn't break anything this time either, but for some applications at least … a length or a height of just under two inches is not at all similar to a length of zero inches."
"Sure," agreed Dudley.
"So I'm trying to work out how to say a twelfth of a twelfth, because two tenths of an inch would be sufficient for my needs, but without parenthesis, the straightforward way to say that actually comes out meaning twelve twelfths, so we're back to one cubit again."
"So make up a new language?" said Dudley.
"That is so far beyond my pay grade it's not even funny," said Leona. But she looked up long enough to give Dudley a fond smile.
"So what are you really trying to do?"
"I just told you," she said.
"No," he said, "I don't mean how are you trying to do it, I mean what are you trying to do. Don't say: conditionally activate runes for heating or cooling, say: I'm trying to air condition a shirt."
"Oh," she said, "I'm trying to write a mirror."
"Come again?"
"A hole in the wall?" She sighed, "In the castle where I go to school, there are tapestries and magical portraits hanging everywhere, I assume painted or donated by past students, either painted while they were attending, or donated after their death, so that in their waning half life as a portrait they could be around 'happy school children' as if we spend all that much time 'being happy' or so that they can help children find their way between classes in that damn maze."
"Oh," said Dudley.
"Most of the tapestries are just decorative," continued Leona, "But a few, you pick them up and peak behind, and there's a secret passageway to somewhere else in the castle."
"Oh, neat," said Dudley.
"Usually, somewhere else that is entirely the wrong distance away for how long the secret passage way is."
Dudley blinked, "Um?"
"And if you steal the tapestry and trade it for another tapestry somewhere else, almost always the same passageway will still be behind the same tapestry, not staying in the same place."
"So the passageway is in the tapestry, not the wall?"
"Exactly," said Leona.
"So if you stole both ends, you could put the passage exactly where you wanted?"
"Sure," said Leona, "I did that for one of my friends last year, it only lasted like four days, because enough people were already using it and liked it better in the original location that they stole it back, but you know." Leona shrugged.
"So … you think students made the paintings, and you're gonna make your own tapestry?"
"I'm thinking seriously about it," said Leona, "But there's looms and whatnot in the runes lab, so putting that off until school makes sense. But the mirror thing doesn't need to be that big."
"How big do you want it?"
"I made some tunnels a hand span across for Nim and Hedwig to go in and out."
"Oh, sure," said Dudley, "I wondered how she fit into that tiny owl house without feeling cramped, she was in your room the whole time?"
"Yeah.'
"Alright," said Dudley, "So … then what?"
"So then a girl I met asked if I could do the same thing, but even smaller. She didn't care how big around it was, but she wanted zero depth between entry and exit."
Dudley tried to imagine what you could do with that, "Less of a door, and more of a window."
"Exactly.'
"You called it a mirror?"
Leona shrugged, "There's something else called a magical mirror, they use it like a telephone, except those have a range of at least the length of the country, whereas I don't expect my tiny passageways to reach farther than a mile or so. But instead of seeing and talking through them, I only expect to be able to push things through. Maybe see, through, I'm not sure."
"Hmm," said Dudley, "And you can make them two inches deep?"
Leona stuck most of her arm in her pocket and fumbled around before pulling out two squares of leather.
Thinner leather than what she'd used for the deodorant demonstration yesterday. He took them from her, tried not to flinch or frown when his finger fell through one of them, then got them situated so he could reach in one, and two inches later, reach out of the other one.
"Where is the space in between?" said Dudley.
"Who knows," said Leona.
"There's wood along the edges?"
"There's the illusion of wood, I've also done stone, wool, sand, or water. Wood is simplest. Mostly because I can simulate touch without declaring what temperature it should pretend to be."
"Sure," said Dudley.
He bent the leather with his fingers inside and felt the wood seem not to bend or splinter.
"And you want to make it two tenths of an inch instead of two inches."
"Yeah," said Leona, "But I've just about given it up as impossible, so I'm re-figuring whether I can start over and have no length at all. Have things move in one side and out the other, instead of in one side into imaginary space, then eventually out the other."
"That actually has the sound of one of Dad's projects where they eventually realised that most of the things wrong with a weird old design they'd never seen before, were actually a bunch of fail-safes implemented all together in a way that looked loose and broken and bad, but was actually the smallest possible way to fix all of those things at once with minimal added friction."
Leona brought her head up and stared at him. Then she narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. Then looked away and grumbled for a while.
Then she nodded and looked up, "probably so."
Dudley wasn't sure whether to feel proud of himself, or sad he'd broken her dream. He examined the runes on the squares of leather he had.
"You said Circe was a Greek goddess?"
"Yeah.'
"But these are Germanic runes?"
"Futhark, I wont quibble about where the alphabet originated vs. Who all ended up using it."
Dudley nodded, "But you're not talking about a Norse goddess of magic?"
"There was one," said Leona, "and some Norse mage probably also derived the standard unit of magical length and probably attributed it to their local goddess of magic, but after all the math is done, I'd bet it converts to within a couple milometers of the other length, and the Greek arithmancy is easier to convert to both inches and meters, so whatever."
"Oh."
Dudley plunged his fist into the void again and pretended to try to punch himself in the face.
Leona growled at his antics and grabbed his fist away. Which rather than break his arm, just snatched both his arm and one scrap of leather out of his lap.
He pulled his arm out, until the scrap of leather snagged on her fist. And the whole thing was suddenly back to being disorienting and creepy. He shivered and yanked harder. His arm slipped a little in her grasp, then came through with Leona's hand still wrapped around his wrist. Suddenly three times as many uses for a little window that could be put anywhere flitted through is mind.
"What did your friend want to do with this?"
"What do you think?"
"I'm afraid to think too hard," said Dudley.
"She wanted to carry my dick around in her pocket, to pet whenever she felt like it."
"I'd thought of that," said Dudley defensively, "But not quite like that, Somehow when you said girl, I imagined a younger girl than that."
"Little doesn't always mean the same thing as young," said Leona, "But yeah…"
"So what about pissing?" said Dudley.
"That's what I asked," said Leona.
"What did she say?"
"She thought for a second, then suggested I sew one of each inside my clothes, the other end of one window sewn inside her pocket, the other end of the other window tacked inside the lid to the loo, that way it would save me trips to the loo, as well as save her trips to come find me to ask if I was horny yet."
"So … she was as crazy possessive as you pretend to be crazy rebellious," he waved a hand at Leona's hair.
She smirked at him.
"She's nice," defended Leona, "She just had a different idea of which problems magic could and should be used to solve."
"What did you tell her?"
"I showed her the math, and the two inch depth problem, and the 'stops working when separated by a mile' problem, and then asked if she wanted to have her fingers reached through petting my junk, when it stopped working, leaving half my junk in her pocket and half her fingers in my pants."
Dudley leaned hard on all his experience with keeping-on-fighting with dislocated fingers to not lose his lunch.
"She got the point then I suppose?"
"Yeah," said Leona, and looked away morosely, though she didn't stop rubbing her thumb along Dudley's wrist.
Dudley stopped holding the leather tight to his knee, and waved his hand around. Watching Leona's hand clasped around his wrist, like a bracelet, and the leather dangle around her wrist, like a bracelet with only one side. Willing himself to just accept that space could work the way it very evidently did, when you knew the correct runes to write on a piece of leather.
"If I got it working," said Leona, "I figured out how to use it to make a nice set of pants, just, you know. No sex with them while either partner was in the car."
"What would you do?" said Dudley.
"Butt cheek to butt cheek," said Leona, "I checked, when it fails, it fails gradually, it would push most things out without slicing them, a ruler poking through it breaks and splinters, but a ball suspended between gets launched randomly out one or the other, a pillow barely pushing through gets pushed back out, relatively gently actually, not trimmed open."
"That's good," said Dudley, "What happens to the doorway, after it breaks? Is it broken forever or does it reform once you bring it back in range?"
"It sort of … waits to reform until you push the surfaces against each other. Like … like blowing a bubble that wants to be there."
"Oh, huh," said Dudley.
Leona shrugged.
"Except … it sort of needs longer to stabilise the longer it was broken, sometimes it makes weird sound and smoke while it's stabilising."
"And nothing you've tried makes the range farther?"
"Nothing yet."
"So no sewing a big one of these in the back of your shirt and the front of mine, so that we can snuggle still while you're away in Scotland, and I'm away from Mum?"
Leona looked up and gave him the gentlest friendliest smile she ever had, and he quickly decided not to mention the rest of his thought, and we could reach through and tickle each other?
"No," she sighed, "We cannot do that, but … now I'll probably think of that whenever I put my shirt on."
He gave her a lazy grin, "I'll try to do the same."
She hummed and relaxed back into her meditation, still stroking her thumb along his wrist now and then.
.
"What time is it?" said Dudley.
She was still lost in thought.
He patted her hand and she roused.
"I said, it's getting dark already."
She jumped up, dropped his wrist and looked around, "Dementors, run-like-hell!"
"Which way?" he said looking around helplessly.
"Home if you can, inside anywhere or under bushes if you can't."
"I don't remember which way that is," said Dudley.
She had her sticks out now, one in each hand. Shouting Latin, Still looking around frantically, She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him in a direction that did not make sense.
He took a step and half his foot disappeared into a hole. He staggered. But got another step farther, before his whole foot disappeared into the next hole. And he went down completely.
"Damn it," said Leona. And shouted some more, over and over and over.
Why did he think that he should roll over onto his front instead of staying on his back? As if I could roll over right now without dislocating my knee.
Leona hovered around him waving her arms shouting Latin, yanking at his foot.
Whenever he closed his eyes he saw his lowest moments at Smeltings. He tried to keep them open, tried to not think about meeting people like the person he used to be.
Tried to keep focused on Leona, the girl with two sticks to wave, and braids to rub and … and her hopeless fight with things that didn't even exist.
"Oh, no you don't!" she screamed, "He's mine," and she dove on top of him, as if ducking under something and she kissed him.
It wasn't just lips touching, just because 'these lips had somehow just ended up in the same space as those lips'. It was intentional, it was … forgiveness for once trying to make Harry feel hopeless. It was anger that anyone but Harry might dare to try to make Dudley feel hopeless.
Then their lips opened and their tongues were touching.
It was Love. It was Hope.
Dudley wrapped his arms around her and got his eyes open again.
Tears were sliding down her cheeks. And she was still angry. And scared, but mostly angry. And it wasn't at him.
"I'm alright," he tried to say, though it mostly just inflated their lips.
She glared at him that he was trying to talk at a time that it was important that their lips stay locked together.
He stopped trying to talk, and he let her slide her tongue along his teeth and tongue, tried to forget Smeltings and remember what important things she'd told him about staying safe from the bad things.
Tried to figure out what she intended to do next. Mostly he just focused on the way her tongue was searching his mouth like she needed his memory of the best chocolate cake he'd ever eaten, as if this was actually a way she could get it, as if it was what she needed to fight the invisible nightmare demons, and as if he could give the memory to her if he tried hard enough. It was hard to remember chocolate cake without also remembering a time when he'd done his best to keep said cake away from Harry, but it might be important so he tried. Even tried to remember feeling guilty for being too selfish to share. Tried to remember those times that he did share, though most of those times were sub-standard chocolate.
And maybe he succeeded at giving her what she needed because her searching grew less desperate, though her tongue kept moving, though more slowly now.
They stared at each other.
They figured out to use their noses to breathe.
They stayed as still as they could in case that helped the bad things lose interest in them.
And Dudley kept focused on not remembering Smeltings, and on noticing that Leona could get that angry at the bad thing that could make it winter and evening in a summer heat wave.
That she could get that angry at the bad thing for getting too close to her tormentor. To him, to Big-D, to Dudley Dursley, Bully extraordinaire.
She wasn't a little girl with a masochism fetish who came to greet him when otherwise he might have ignored her forever, who moped in the night because he hadn't bothered to fight her once in five hours. She'd cried for joy because he'd snuggled her, she'd cried, and then she'd been mildly irritated but forgiven him when he'd called her his pet. When he'd offered her the upgrade from torture pet to snuggle pet.
Because he was too dense to get it.
She could bend space. And permanently air condition and deodorise a piece of leather with a day's worth of work. She said it was knife proof also, but he hadn't tried to check, wouldn't dare until this heat wave was over, and then only very carefully.
She was up against enemies that were just beyond her skill level, because someone knew her skill level just a bit better than she did. And was trying to kill her. And probably make it seem like an accident as well.
And instead of running like hell, as she'd counselled him, she'd stayed by him, defended him, and when that hadn't worked, she'd locked their lips together. In what was apparently the last possible defence, because he'd been too out-of-it to roll over like he'd been told.
Well, he got it now.
She wasn't the little boy, or the little girl, she was the lion.
It was Dudley who needed protecting, it was Dudley who was the pet.
Good to know.
He'd try his best not to forget it.
Her eyes were closed now.
"Sorry," he said.
She turned her focus to him and threw her arms up to protect their heads and pulled her lips away. "What?" she shouted in the quiet park, as if over the sound of horrible dreams that were in her head.
He put his elbows up around the cage she was making. "I'm Sorry," he said.
She nodded.
"Sorry that I was never a very good pet," he said.
"What?"
"Sorry, I thought you were mine, sorry that I thought you were my torture pet, sorry that I asked you to be my snuggle pet."
She nodded, "I forgive you," she shouted.
"Thank you for letting me try again, to be your snuggle pet."
She blinked wide and gaped.
"That's what all the witches and wizards think about the rest of us isn't it, that we're just pets?"
Her eyes widened and her mouth closed and she swallowed.
"That's why Mum and Dad hate them?"
"Yes," she said, "That's why they hate them, some of them do think muggles are pets to protect and some think muggles are pets to trick or kill whenever they want what the muggles have. But most of us don't think that."
"But it's true anyway, isn't it," said Dudley, "if you didn't protect me, if the good witches didn't protect us, the bad witches would just kill us whenever we were in the way? Or send dementies to do it?"
She shuddered, "Yes, that's true."
"Then I am your pet, basically, right?"
She shook her head, "most of us prefer to keep police around, even though they get in the way of stealing everything we want, because it also keeps others from stealing everything they want. That doesn't make the police our pets nor us the pets of the police."
"But police only have sticks or guns, and at worst the threat of calling the army. You have runes and wards and control over other things. You could own the neighbourhood, and push the people out and they'd never figure out where their house or their street or whatever went."
She narrowed her eyes and rolled off him and shouted, "MINE!"
And just like that the sunlight was back.
There was only a slightly oblong ball of night floating a meter above the ground, about three meter's across. With pretty white snow falling out of it.
"Damn," she said in wonder, and scooted backwards away from it and towards Dudley. Dudley let her snuggle in and admire her handiwork. He basked in her warmth and the sun's warmth.
"What did you do?" said Dudley.
"It's my park now," said Leona, "except in the space so close to them that my magic wasn't stronger than theirs. They cannot see my park, and because they're inside my park, they cannot see anything at all."
"Oh."
"They're confused like bugs in a bottle," she said.
"There's two, right?" he said.
"Yes," she said, "you can see them?"
"No, I can see the lobes of space where they are, compared to where your magic took the airspace away from them."
"Oh," she said, "yeah."
"What do they look like?" he said.
"Decaying corpses in decaying black robes."
"You should put on your black armour and mock them for not being pretty as you."
She giggled.
"Will they starve?"
"I hope so."
"How long?"
"A couple centuries."
"Will your bottle trap last that long?"
"It will probably die when I do."
"Oh," said Dudley, "Can you move them somewhere else to let them finish starving, where they won't get away?"
"No idea," she said, "I don't know nearly enough about them to risk it yet."
"Is it going to fade after a year the way the invisibility on the house used to fade?"
"Plausible," said Leona, "I probably should anchor it more securely."
"How?"
"Don't know, I've got several ideas, I wish Hermione was here."
"Where is she?"
"Bulgaria."
"Doing what?"
Leona shrugged, "bumming around with a sports star even more famous than I am."
"Being a groupie?"
Leona shrugged, "I hope she's having that much fun, though I kind of figure she's in it for access to someone's book collection or something."
"Oh."
He wrapped his arm around her. She patted it.
"Are you annoyed for figuring out that I'm your pet?" he said.
"No," she said, "and the traditional term is 'vassal,' and yes, I have enough of those already to not worry about finding I have one more, and for tax purposes, I'm officially giving you your time."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're still my slave, I've just renounced my right to give you work to do. Different than being freed, in that you still get access to my protection and get to live (and in my case see) the property I've given you access to, namely my park and #4 Privet Drive."
"But … doesn't Dad own the house and the city own the park?"
"Yes, but I took over the duty of protecting them from the Queen, but as I am a loyal peer, I don't mind her government's apparatus continuing to enforce standardised property rights about them."
"Oh!" said Dudley, "This is one of those, really truly a peer things, isn't it."
"Yes," she said.
"Sooooo," he said, "wait … you don't mind me being your pet, you just don't like people in general being pets of people in general?"
"I am, in general, against slavery, I am in general for people who deserve protection receiving it."
"Since when do I deserve protection?" whispered Dudley.
"Sensi thought you deserved to know how to defend yourself."
Dudley nodded, "that's not the same thing as anyone else defending me."
She sighed, "Everyone deserves only to face battles that are in their skill range," she waved at the black glob of dusk floating above them, "Those are outside your skill range. I was afraid they were outside of mine."
"They were, at first," said Dudley.
She sat up and looked at him, then she nodded and looked away.
He poked her.
She looked at him long enough to realise that he'd poked her for attention, and that he didn't actually have a use for her attention.
She looked away.
"So, you claimed the park like you claimed our house?"
"Yeah."
"So we could strip naked and run around like savages, and no one would know?"
She giggled, "Plausible, but … it's kind of … notice-me-not, not invisibility. They'd probably drive past and know there were teenagers in the park, they just wouldn't remember ever seeing us. They might even have a vague idea who they didn't see in the park."
"You're saying the difference between not seeing our house while driving past, and walking through our yard and still not seeing anything?"
"Yeah."
"So what are they doing?" He pointed at the darkness.
She frowned and looked up, "I'm not actually sure," she said, "I've been trying to find another ward that does what mine does."
She shrugged, "It's obviously working, because we're not feeling their effects. But it's doing more than just not letting them notice us, unless their cold, dark, and depression is the result of their attack, and not a result of their mere presence."
"Maybe it is their attack."
"Then they're worse than I thought," she said. And reached out at them and clawed her hand then made a fist, as if crumpling something.
The bubble got smaller.
She did it again and it got smaller again.
"What are you doing?" whispered Dudley.
"Taking my world away from them," she said.
She crumpled several more times and the bubble of dark got smaller and smaller each time.
But it also shrank by less and less each time.
After a minute the bubble was a third smaller and there was a strong smell of mint and flowers. At first Dudley thought it meant the influence of the bad things had been pushed far enough away that they could smell the park again, but then he realised it meant Leona was sweating.
He sat up and watched her. Watched her straining, watched her fight with bubble magic that was for keeping mildly bad people out of her house, not for keeping very very bad things in bubbles, because she wasn't skilled enough to fight them properly.
"Wait just a second," said Dudley.
And he re-positioned himself under her and around her. He couldn't help her beat up this opponent, but he could be her best possible lawn chair, so she didn't need to strain her neck to see what she was doing while she crumpled space in around them.
After he stopped moving and he told her to keep going. she did keep going, and then she understood what he'd done and relaxed, and began to use both hands.
After twenty minutes more the bubble was down to half size, and she was panting.
"We may need to go, eat, and come back," she said.
"I have no problem with that," said Dudley, "There's chocolate at home, These were the things you wanted the chocolate for recovering from dealing with?"
"Yes," she said, "but this whole fight is going different than it should have, and I'm not sure if chocolate or beef is the correct answer."
"Beef with mustard," said Dudley, "and chocolate for desert."
"I'm not arguing with that," she said, "but I only said it as fair warning, I'm not saying I need to eat now, just … I might need a break before I'm done."
"I don't have a problem with that," said Dudley.
.
After one squeeze that had seemed the same as the others, the bubble was suddenly half as dark, and her next squeeze shrank it an entire quarter of its previous diameter. And it was round now.
"Did you get one?"
"Didn't eliminate it," she said, "Just broke it into a million little spores."
"So … is that a victory for today, but a bad sign for tomorrow?"
"If I gave up now, yes probably."
She went back to squeezing with both hands.
"The second one is fighting harder," she said, "also has baby ones to eat."
She kept squeezing. And kept squeezing, and the bubble kept shrinking, but only tiny fractions at a time.
And then it didn't seem to be shrinking any farther. She strained harder, and still nothing more seemed to happen.
"If it gets away," said Dudley, "I'm ready to kiss you again, if you need."
She paused and looked up and back at him, "Thank you, Dudley," she said, and held still and just panted.
She looked down and pulled a ridiculously large box from her pocket and opened it, bigger than a cigar box, almost the size of a shoe box. It turned out to be a case of chocolate bars. She handed him one and opened another, and pushed the rest of the case back into her impossible pocket.
They'd labelled the bar as if this was the 1880s and food safety regulators hadn't yet managed to track them down for incomplete labelling.
It tasted pretty good though, like it was a hundred percent chocolate, a hundred percent sugar and a hundred percent frozen yogurt, and no room left for additives.
"This is good," said Dudley, "does … chocolate this good cost an impossible amount?"
"Sort of," she said.
"Because it tastes like I've died and gone to hedon."
She nodded, then stopped and turned to stare at him, "Did you just pun?"
"No," he said, "I said exactly what I meant."
She smirked and took another bite, "Yeah, it is about that good." Her eyes rolled up a tiny fraction. Which Dudley still thought was cute. And tried to stroke between her braids again. She re-positioned her head to let him, but after the second rub she sat up away from him.
"Let's wait on that," she said, "It would be a shame if I choked on my chocolate."
"Very true," he said fervently, and went back to savouring his own chocolate.
.
When their chocolate was finished, Leona went back to crushing the bad things in their bubble, and Dudley went back to stroking her , long after Dudley's leg had gone numb, (but he didn't mention it, because she didn't need the distraction) the bubble went clear, with a bit of blue around the edges.
She squeezed once more and it shrank down to the size of a fist and was dark again, and rapidly started to expand again.
She whimpered and squeezed again. It broke clear again, and again was easy to shrink, and again started trying to expand.
Then she held up her left hand and gritted her teeth and just held it small while she stood up and marched closer.
"Find me my wand," she said.
He got up, tried to get up, looked around until he found a stick that was polished instead of natural and crawled over to it and back. He put it in her hand and she waved it over and over again, grunting, "Expecto Patronem, expecto patronem, expecto patronem."
The same as she had been chanting before when it was dark.
Now it had the effect of flashing light at the dark marble hanging in the air, but didn't do what she seemed to want.
"What else can I do, Senpai" said Dudley.
"See if you can find my other wand," she said, and kept chanting.
He found it. By the time he'd crawled over to it, his leg was mostly working and he managed to hobble back to her instead of crawl.
With that wand she made a lot brighter light, but even that still apparently frustrated her.
"What else can I get," he said, "beef and mustard sandwich?"
She didn't even smile, "Was I wearing my feather hair clip when I came?"
"I don't think so," he said.
"Damn," she said.
"Do you want your armour dress?"
"Nah," she said, "Not that kind of danger."
"What do you want?"
"To go swimming?" she said.
He'd wondered about that, When she'd first stood up, spoonfuls of dried, crushed plant matter had fallen from her leather shirt. If all of that had been perspiration originally, then she ought to be wanting both a drink and a shower.
"Will you look for my hair clip anyway," she said.
"What's it look like?"
"Two long feathers one white and one gold blond, in a silver clip, and if you try to break the feathers they turn into titanium yellow spring steel instead."
"Weird," said Dudley, "And it would be with your armour dress and the stockings you were wearing with your black boots?"
"Yeah," she said.
"Alright, I'll check," he ran home.
.
There were four foreigners on the sidewalk in front of the house, two wore red dresses, two wore grey.
"Excuse me," said one of the men.
Dudley ignored them, he was on a mission from his owner.
He tore through everything she left in his room, No feathers, no pockets in her dress, nothing in her boots, nothing in his bathroom, nothing in Harry's bathroom.
He went back out.
"Dudley," said the girl in red, he stopped and stared at her.
"Tonks," he said, "What are you doing here?"
She shrugged looking impatient, "protection detail, same as always."
"Oh, who?"
"Leona this time," she said.
"You're a little late," said Dudley brightly.
They all winced.
"What do you mean by that, young man." said the ugly guy.
"Leona-Senpai has crushed the two sadness demons into millions of tiny tiny bugs that fit into a marble and she's flashing white light at it, expecto patronem."
"And you're hyper on chocolate," said Tonks.
"It was impossibly good chocolate," said Dudley, "she says she needs her feathers, but I can't find them, I don't think she brought them here."
"Damn it," said Tonks and popped out of existence.
"What feathers?" said a man in grey, they didn't look at Dudley, they mostly looked around, the opposite direction of wherever the ugly man looked.
Dudley shrugged, and then, since they weren't looking at him, he continued, "white and silver blond, in a silver hair clip, and they turn into titanium yellow spring steel, if you try to break them."
There was another small thunder-crack and Tonks was back, holding a thing that must be what Dudley had just described, except the feathers were several inches longer than he'd expected.
He reached for it.
Tonks raised an eyebrow, "Take us to Leona?"
"No," he said, "you made her cry."
"So did you," she countered.
"Not lately," said Dudley. Though he'd actually meant, 'but she's forgiven me.' In fact he'd made her cry every day she'd been here. Mostly by hugging her, but once by almost twisting his ankle in her stupid leather space door, and landing wrong way up so that she'd had to kiss him.
Tonks huffed, "She says she needs her feathers, but what she really wants is to know that we're here to help." She waved her hand around to indicate the four of them.
Dudley almost believed her explanation. It had the right kind of poetry for him to believe it was real magic. But her voice was wrong.
"I'll go tell her that then," he said, and he held out his hand.
Reluctantly she held the feathers out.
He took them and went to Leona's park. And handed her the feathers.
"Tonks and three others are standing on our sidewalk looking for you, wanting to help."
"So? Bring them here?"
"They tried to follow me, but couldn't get past the property line."
She stared at him, and then started laughing. She laughed so hard she sat down and held her face with her hands.
"What?" said Dudley after that seemed to have gone on long enough.
"I kissed my cousin, trapped two impossible bad things in one bubble, and four police officers in another."
"How did you trap them? And anyway, Tonks could leave by disappearing, she just couldn't walk any farther than the rest of them."
"That's a mild relief," said Leona, "Do you remember when I claimed the property at #4 and then specifically disclaimed the sidewalk right-of-way?"
"Yeah?"
"The sidewalk right-of-way is probably the only thing for miles I haven't claimed, in the process of crushing the dementors, it's the only thing that they can see. It's probably making them paranoid."
Dudley chuckled.
"Did you tell me what the other three looked like?"
"One guy was very very ugly."
"Had an eye patch and a peg leg?"
"I saw the eye patch, not the other."
"Alright," she said, "how about the other two."
"One had … an African looking hat, and the other was just … in grey. Two grey, two red."
"Red is aurors, grey is hit-wizards."
"Say again for normal people," said Dudley.
"Red is regular police detectives, grey is specialist firearms officers."
"Oh," said Dudley, "and they came to help you fight those," he nodded toward the bubble of darkness, except it was gone.
She caught his look and followed his gaze, she frowned upward and crumpled again, and seemed disappointed, "Either they got away, or I let them out by accident, I guess I'd better let the police out also."
She closed her eyes and seemed to stop being a queen, the sun seemed brighter, more real burning sun, less like a storybook sun giving plain good light, Dudley wondered if he could catch sunburn now and wouldn't have been able to a moment before.
When she opened her eyes, she looked like she was about to fall asleep. Dudley caught her and led her over to the swings. Where they sat again. When he turned around again her wands were hidden and she was glaring down at the two scraps of leather that had caused so much chaos.
Dudley grabbed them and handed them to her. She put them in her pocket.
Then she got out another chocolate bar and broke it in half.
Dudley ate his in two bites, then turned to watch her eat hers.
He could almost pretend that none of this had happened.
.
"There you are, Leona," said Tonks.
"Hello, Tonks," said Leona, "How long have you been looking for me?"
"About an hour," said Tonks, "I swear this neighbourhood gets more confusing every time I visit."
Leona glared.
"Situation report?" said the ugly man.
Leona looked at him, "It was self-defence, and I regret nothing."
"Fine," he said, "and you survived, so you've earned an A."
The other three winced. But Leona just chuckled.
"Does the following discussion need to be moved to a location where it is legal to discuss information listed under the secrets of war act?"
"I have not read that law," said Leona.
"Did you kill one or more dementors? Do not state how."
"I believe so," said Leona.
Tonks eyes were now very very wide.
"Are you willing to promise not to teach anyone your method?"
"I believe that no one besides me could use my method," said Leona, "Except perhaps Hermione, and I think if she tried, I'd die of magical exhaustion before she was a third of the way through."
"That gives me reason to believe that you'd keep such a promise but it is not in fact a promise."
Leona shrugged, "No, I am not willing not to teach, it just happens to be pointless in this instance to try."
"I'm trying very hard not to get you kissed as an enemy of the crown," said the ugly man, "We haven't yet gotten to the lesser charge of destroying war material, misappropriated though it may have been."
"Dudley," said Leona, "Pull up your shirt and show the man the tattoo on your left side."
Dudley picked up his shirt there was no tattoo. Not on his right side, not on his left, she even checked his back.
"That's funny," said Leona, "Do you itch anywhere odd? Makes you want to run your wand across it?"
"I don't have a wand," said Dudley.
"Right," said Leona.
"The top of my mouth itches," said Dudley.
"Since when?" said Leona, "I know you're not allergic to chocolate."
"Since I fell and you protected my mouth by kissing me, and then I said 'sorry'."
"Let me see," said Leona she climbed unsteadily to her feet and crouched over Dudley and looked in his mouth.
"Yeah," she said, "That's my vassal mark alright."
"It happened when I realised?" said Dudley, "Not when you …"
Leona shrugged, "that's the way vassal magic goes, it has to be a two way agreement."
"So … you were already protecting me," said Dudley, "and then I realised."
"Yes," said Leona.
"How long will my mouth itch."
Leona shrugged, "You'll probably just get used to it after a couple days."
Dudley sighed.
Leona turned back to the ugly man, "I claim my right to defend her majesty's subjects from all dangers both foreign and domestic, and my duty of the same, for those who bear my mark, it is not my responsibility that in this case the domestic threat included some misappropriated war material."
The ugly man grinned very very wide.
"Welcome aboard, your ladyship," he said and held out his hand.
They shook.
"I'll be looking forward to seeing you in my office sometime between now and tea tomorrow, because you've got a bit of paperwork to fill out, I'll go get it all ready."
"Oh, um, thanks I think," said Leona.
He gave her a nod, and disappeared with a very very quiet thunderclap, almost more like a thump.
"Did … I just make a mistake?" said Leona.
"You just declared war on the minister's office," said the man in the African hat, "either you'll lose your title, or the minister will be forced to resign, or the secretary who ordered the mission will be out. From now on, you do not refer to this event as self-defence, you keep with the feudal explanation, and no matter how romantic it is, don't bring up the fact that he didn't accept your vassal mark until after the event started, that could be perceived as … manufacturing an excuse to dispose of the minister's pet dementors."
"It wasn't exactly romantic," said Leona, "just the only pragmatic solution left I hadn't tried right then, they couldn't get to either of our mouths if they were both occupied."
Tonks colour faded from an unhealthy greenish pink, back toward her normal colouring. "Good thinking," she shuddered.
Leona nodded, "Like he said, I only get an A."
"Killing dementors is a double E, no matter who you are."
"In Britain it is, elsewhere I think it must be barely A material."
"Why's that?"
"Lots of countries prefer dragons."
Tonks looked thunderstruck.
"What's going on?" said Dudley.
"It turns out," said Leona, "killing dementors isn't impossible at all, but telling people how is illegal, at least in countries that are backwards enough to rely on them."
"I got that part," said Dudley.
"And now we've got to plan what to do about it, so the prime minister doesn't send more, or hit wizards instead."
"But these hit wizards?" said Dudley.
"Happen to be on our side," said Leona, "or merely against government corruption and summary execution."
"Good?" said Dudley, "So are you going to go plan now, or did you still want to go swimming?"
"I'm thinking of lowering my expectations to a shower and a nap," said Leona, "And then maybe lunch."
"That makes sense," said Dudley, and stood up.
"You want an escort home?" said Tonks.
Leona shrugged.
"Could you be more specific?"
"I don't seem to have one of those," said Leona.
"That's what I thought before you caught the dementors," said Dudley stepping next to her trying to hug her, "Are you sure you've recovered?"
Leona spun away and glared at him.
"What?"
"You think you're smarter than me now?"
"No," said Dudley.
"Do you know where my home is?" said Leona.
Tonks shuddered, and then Dudley did too.
"You can have my room," he said very very quietly. He wished he knew how to make Mum and Dad understand why he ought to be allowed to make such an offer. But they wouldn't so it was an empty gesture. But … he wanted it to be real. He wanted her to say, 'thanks, I'll take it,' and also, 'now my pet needs somewhere to stay, he may stay there with me' Wanted to have so much attention from his owner.
Leona grabbed him and hugged him so tight his ribs hurt, so tight her arms shook.
He tried to return the hug with what small amount of his arms weren't locked to his sides. While also resisting the urge to let his defence drill take over, from noticing that he didn't have full use of his arms.
Over her shoulder, he saw that Tonks was crying.
Good.
.
After Leona finally let go, he picked her up on his back and carried her home.
He wasn't sure what made him want to, he just noticed that she didn't mind riding.
Tonks and co. did escort them to the property line, and then eventually disappeared.
.
"What's going on?" said Mum.
"The government sent two dementors to kill Harry and me," said Dudley, "Leona was with me at the time and killed them, now she's technically in trouble, but some of the police don't like the prime minister, and are going to try to help her get out of trouble for killing them."
"So now what?" said Mum.
"Now I'm going to help her into the shower, and then get one of my own," said Dudley, "If she falls over, help her, I might not hear her from the other shower."
"You can be in my shower with me, if you think that would be safer," said Leona, but she sounded too muzzy for that to be a real offer.
Ice prickled up and down the back of his spine.
"Please don't fall asleep while I'm carrying you," said Dudley, "I can put you down on a bed and you can sleep before your shower if you think that's safer."
"What?" said Mum.
Leona didn't say anything.
"Shock," explained Dudley quietly, "She was all set to fall asleep before the police got to her and started asking complicated and dangerous questions. But she woke up enough to switch from saying she'd killed in self defence, to that she'd disabled some stolen weapons in order to save a civilian."
"Subject," said Leona, "I'm the citizen, you're the subject."
"I said civilian, not citizen," said Dudley.
"Oh," she put her head back down on his shoulder.
Dudley looked at his mother. She looked at him.
"Nap time first, I think," said Dudley, and pushed past her to the stairs.
He had to use the banister to keep his balance, but he got them up and into his bed. And their shoes off, and then he slept.
.
He woke to his parents yelling.
He opened his eyes to find Leona missing.
He sat up and heard that she was in his shower.
Fine.
He lay back down.
She got out and came and threw several charms at the bed, and climbed back into bed.
He sat up to scoot closer to her. "Your turn in the shower," she said.
"Yeah," he said, "Good idea."
He took his shower.
.
When Leona noticed he'd gotten out she sighed and said, "I guess it's time to go face the music."
"What music?"
"Your parents, wanting to evict me for using magic, or marry me into the family to alleviate a life-debt before it solidifies. Except the opposite, because anyone who dyes their hair like this is apparently advertising that we are not 'marrying material' or some such."
"Life debts are real?" he asked faintly.
"Yes," she said.
"Is it what I'm feeling?" he said.
"No," she said, but she sat up and stared at him.
He climbed on to her bed and knelt right in front of her.
She looked at his best puppy dog eyes, and after a few seconds she said, "would you have sex with me if I offered?"
"Yeah," he said, "Maybe? Someday?"
"Would you have sex with Harry?"
"Rather not," he said.
"Would you have sex with me if I demanded?"
"What?" he said.
"It's a serious hypothetical question," she said, "I'm trying to diagnose what you're thinking and feeling."
"I'd be offended," he said, "but I'd obey."
She nodded, "That's about what I figured. That describes a situation called 'position of trust' or 'under my influence' it is illegal for me to have sex with someone under my influence until they are eighteen."
"How do you even know that?" said Dudley.
"Hermione's dad told me, when he wanted to know if she'd only rescued me to abuse me herself."
"Oh," said Dudley, "I meant, more about the legal jargon, what does it all mean?"
She stared at him, "usually a 'position of trust' means a parent, a teacher, a doctor, someone who makes or can control your access your food or medicine, or to a safe place to sleep, sometimes it means your elder siblings."
Dudley stared at her, "Yeah, that sounds right. You've made my food for a long time, and I gave you my bedroom, so that counts too."
She started a little, "Thank you," she whispered and kissed him again.
They let their tongues touch again, then she pulled back. And frowned at him. Well her mouth was frowning, but her eye wrinkles were still smiling.
He was sure she was going to say he was being stupid and couldn't give that away, or that he was being stupid because she could buy a house if she really wanted one, or —
"I want you to keep living here," she said, "Keep it clean enough for me not to trip over anything if I visit in the middle of the night."
"shì de, sēn pài!" he said and saluted.
She got ready to roll her eyes, and then didn't.
"And Dudley?" she said.
"What?"
"Don't get any girls pregnant before you marry them."
Dudley's eyes bulged, she was giving him an order about sex after all, but it was more like permission, but also a very sensible limit on that permission. When he got his breath back, he said, "shì de, sēn pài!" And saluted again.
She nodded, like she deserved for him to be saluting her.
"Are you going to be mad if you visit in the middle of the night and there's a girl here?"
"No," she said, "like you said, this bed is big enough for four normal people."
Dudley nodded.
"She might get mad that your orphan cousin sleeps with you, but I won't be mad about having extra breathing in the bed, or an extra person to snuggle if she's into that."
Dudley raised an eyebrow, "I'm not sharing girlfriends with you."
"I'm not asking you to share your girlfriends, I'm answering your question about whether I mind what you get up to in my bed."
Dudley nodded, her bed. He put his hand inside his leather vest and scratched the inside of the front.
She frowned at him oddly.
"Still wish our shirts had windows to snuggle through," he said.
She smiled, for a moment he thought her eyes would roll up just from the thought alone, but they didn't.
.
"Now, I guess we're ready," she said and climbed off the bed, donned her sandals, and led the way downstairs. He noticed that her boots and stockings and everything else of hers seemed to be gone. Probably stowed in her impossible pockets.
Dudley followed as close as he dared.
.
Mum and Dad yelled at her and him as soon as they noticed. Leona did this thing where she kind of ignored them, but without seeming to. She just sat patiently at Harry's place at the table and waited while they yelled.
Dudley watched her and them. Then he went to the fridge and made his best approximation of 'The Ideal Roast beef and Mustard Sandwich.' Dad watched him out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything about it until Dudley put the sandwich down in front of Leona.
Then he looked even more exasperated.
"Here, Leona-Senpai," said Dudley.
Dad reconsidered. He actually stopped and went back to look for something different to yell.
Dudley went back to the counter and made his own sandwich.
"You saved my life," said Dudley, and his parents went momentarily silent, "you even admitted that to the police, but then you said what I'm feeling isn't a life debt, but you didn't say how you know," said Dudley, "and you didn't say what I am feeling."
She sighed, "Vassals cannot owe life debts," she said, "it's the other way around, the lord owes the vassal protection. You're probably just feeling Stockholm syndrome, don't worry it'll be less overwhelming when I'm not around."
"Oh," said Dudley.
"And anyway, you're not of age yet, vassalage that starts before you are of age, expires as soon as you are of age and ask for your freedom."
"Why would or wouldn't I want that?" said Dudley, "Just to clarify?"
Leona shrugged, "Maybe you don't like my magic hanging around trying to protect you, or maybe you do, maybe you'd rather belong to a lord with a more immediate connection to your family, your cousin Lord Potter, for instance."
She was still playing the not-Harry game for his parents. So weird. But probably a sufficient method to avoid getting caned.
"Right," said Dudley, "I'll think about it."
She nodded and stretched her neck like a cat, and went back to eating.
Dad yelled at her for a while, when he finished, she shrugged and said again that rejecting her protection was Dudley's decision, and she wasn't willing to discuss it until he was eighteen, and in the mean time, call her if he needed tuition money, and to assume she wouldn't help with bail money, but he should feel free to contact her anyway, at least if he felt himself to be not-at-fault.
"Where are you going?" said Dudley.
"Permanently?" she said, "Not sure yet. Immediately? Probably out to negotiate with Tonks about transportation."
"Who's Tonks."
"The auror / police woman who stayed behind to guard the house when we came inside," said Leona.
"Your step sister?" said Dudley
"Your cousin?" said Mom.
"Yes," said Leona, "second cousin once removed to be technical, supposed to be staying at their house this summer."
"Orphan from the last war, shuffles around between relatives," Mum told Dad at her impression of soto voice.
"About like Harry then?" said Dad.
Leona stared at him.
Mum nodded. Dad shrugged.
"I miss Harry sometimes," said Dudley.
Leona turned to stare at him now.
Dudley stared back.
He wanted to hug her and stroke her braids. He wanted Harry for running with and sparring with, and for not waiting all day for time to visit the dojo.
Leona swallowed, "I told you, he misses you too," she said, "have you tried owling him letters?"
"It's expensive," said Mum, "have to drive all the way to London to rent an owl, and anyway he never writes back."
Leona's face darkened, "I'll tell him to write more often. And to tell his owl to check for replies before leaving."
"Thank you," said Dudley.
She smiled, then got up and ran outside.
"She didn't finish her sandwich," Dad growled, "why did she leave?"
"She didn't want us to see her cry," said Mom.
"Why was she crying?" said Dad.
"Because she's afraid that some of her relatives don't love her as much as we love Harry," said Dudley.
Both his parents stared at him in horrified fascination.
"Well," said Dad after several seconds, "Harry did get easier to be around after he had that fight with a snake and decide he ought to become a policeman."
.
...-...
{End Chapter 6}