A/n: People, I don't have the book to write word for word, so please forgive me for not sticking verbatim to the book. But I assure you, you won't feel the difference. Thank you That Lil' Ol' Blu Girl for giving me an incentive to continue with the story. You rock! And so do you all other reviewers! Your words have power!

Again, review, and give me advice on how to continue sculpting Dudley!

Chapter 2 – I know what you dream about

He stood there, smirking amusedly at me. I glanced behind me to see if anyone was there.

"Big D, huh?" he continued. I felt the heat rise to my neck. I clenched my fists, resisting the growing urge to give him a right hook that would send him sprawling across the pavement, as I had done to Breve. I wanted to hurt him, to make him shut up. I hated when people talked to me like that. What right did he think he had? To talk to me like that? If it wasn't for his…thing that he had with him all the time…I would have surely fixed the damned runt.

"So, Duddikins, do they know what your mum calls you?" He smirked. I didn't know what he was playing at, bringing my mother into it. What I would have done to hit him, right there and then.

He went on to say a whole lot more. I don't remember registering too much of it, but I remember my anger rising and rising. I worked my mind furiously to think of something smart to say to him. But nothing came.

I was never good with words. Harry always had the upper hand when it came to arguing. I, forever handicapped when it came to speaking, immediately relied on my physical strength and pals to play Harry down. I reveled in the way I used to be able to force Harry to physical submission, especially since he wasn't allowed to use his thing then. He would run away, forever attempting to avoid my punches and kicks. But then, when we found about his murderer godfather who broke loose from prison, it seemed we couldn't control him. If I had my friends with me, and he didn't have his thing, I could overtake him in a second. But here, I was alone. And I was sure he had his…his wand with him. My hands unconsciously wandered to my backside.

I glanced at Harry, ripping my eyes away from the ground, hate overtaking me for the pain I had felt three years ago on the rock island, and for longer afterward. As though lightening had struck, I suddenly remembered something.

Late one night, I was passing by my other bedroom, which Harry had stolen from me, to the kitchen for a late night snack. I couldn't sleep, so I was hoping Chips Ahoy and a jug of milk would cure the insomnia. The bedroom door was open. And then, out of nowhere, I swore I heard a thud. I was scared as hell, but I wanted to know what had just happened. I could not think of any possible explanation. Carefully looking inside the room, I saw Harry lying down on the ground. He appeared to have fallen on the ground, amidst sheets and sheets of parchment and various books lying open. I blanched when I saw snowy white owl feathers littering the floor. Harry was all wound up in his bedcovers, a sheen of sweat evident on his face. I let out a small smile then but ended it just as soon, in case he would wake up suddenly and curse me to oblivion. Harry looked like he was tortured.

I was shocked, then, when he had moaned quite loudly, his face tense.

"No! Don't kill…" he said, almost hopelessly, in his sleep.

Needless to say, I was creeped out. I felt I had heard something very…confidential. Every night after that one, I would stop outside the room, and listen to him talk in his sleep. I was frightened at first, but I soon became foolishly curious and wanted to hear more and more. I was sure this was something Harry did not expect anyone else but himself to know about. What ammo I had against him, and what an opportune time to attack was at hand!

As if enlightened, my whole face brightened up at the memory.

Almost greedily, I began.

"I know what you dream about."

Harry looked at me like I was mad, but I continued with increasing confidence. He could make that expression all he wanted to, but this was my moment to hurt him, my moment to prove myself much more of a force to be reckoned with.

"Do you think no one would find out? 'Don't kill her, anyone but her!'" I yelled gleefully. I felt high, as high as I had felt two weeks ago when I took a lungful of the joint that Malcolm had bought from the Greek dealer at the airport.

"What're you talking about?" He looked genuinely surprised for a moment, but I saw him force his face to look like he didn't know what I was talking about. But he knew, I knew he did!

"Oh, I saw you. Twisting and turning in your bed, you were, 'no!'" I continued using the same high-pitched voice at the end to make my hit stronger. I felt a certain happiness evade my being as I struck this blow to him. With this said, I felt myself gaining a step ahead of him, hang a rung above him.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He said quietly, almost threateningly. I didn't want to stop, though, not when I was on such a roll.

"'No, please, don't kill her!'" I continued, allowing my smirk to grow wider as his discomfort became more obvious. His hand clenched something in his pocket, and I saw him take it out. I was shocked. My glee drained away as quickly as it had come to me.

"You're not allowed to use that…that thing, Mum said your not allowed to, you can't-"

Something cut me off though. I could never complete what I wanted to say then, because just then, with Harry's wand held tightly in his hand, the coldest feeling in the world clenched my heart in a death grip.

a/n: So, how was it? Come on, tell me….don't be shy 