word count: 1094


Dudley doesn't bother to knock. His favorite thing about his friendship with Piers has always been how casual they can be with one another. His mother would probably freak out if she knew he set aside his manners and just barged in without waiting to be invited, but he didn't care. She would never know.

Piers doesn't look up from the table. Upon closer inspection, Dudley discovers his best friend is hard at work, piecing together a puzzle. "About halfway done with a 5,000 piece," he says. "Making better time than the last one."

"Practice makes perfect."

Something in his tone must give him away, because Piers suddenly no longer seems interested in beloved hobby. With a frown, he fits the piece in his hand in its place and looks up, dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "It's good to see your face," he says. "But I get the feeling this isn't a social visit."

It isn't. Not really. Not completely. Of course, Dudley doesn't know how to express that. He barely even understands the whole ordeal or anything that's happening. All he knows is Harry and his world are dealing with something really bad. There's some sort of war that Dudley isn't a part of, but he still has to be uprooted.

He reminds himself that it can't be helped. These are bad people, the worst sort. Dudley doesn't know too much about them, only that the leader is the one who killed his cousin's parents so long ago. Harry makes him sound like the sort of evil villain one might read about in a book. People like him aren't supposed to exist. But he does, and now Dudley has to go into hiding. It's taken some time to get used to the idea, but the bitterness has finally washed away, and he has accepted his fate.

But Piers? He knows he owes Piers something. They're best friends. What sort of person would he be if he just disappeared without a word? No. Piers has been let down by so many other people in his life; Dudley refuses to be one of them now.

"Dud?"

Dudley shakes his head. He tries for a smile, but the twitch of his lips feels a little too forced, a little too fake. Piers will see right through it. "Yeah, sorry. I just…"

He's considered what he would say, formulated so many excuses to explain away his upcoming absence. None of them seem to matter now. This isn't some theory, some what if. He really is leaving, and he doesn't have the words to say to his best friend.

"I've got to go away for a little while."

Good. An excellent start. Simple and safe.

"How long's a little while?" Piers asks. "Late summer holiday?"

Dudley wishes he had an answer. Things would be so much easier if he had something solid and sure he could tell Piers. He tries not to hate himself for that. It can't be helped, and he's done nothing wrong. Still, that doesn't ease the guilt.

"Not sure. Bit longer than a holiday, I think."

It's still vague, but maybe Piers understands. This isn't some fun trip he's taking. If he could stay, he would. He really hopes Piers knows that. He doesn't want to go, but his mother refused to hear any protests, even when Dudley insisted he could get a job and support himself. How hard could it be to lie low?

In the end, though, both of his parents shot his suggestion down, and he has no choice. "We're moving," he explains, because those words sound better. "Mum says the area has been giving her headaches, so we thought a little change in scenery would do her good."

Silence. Dudley hates the sadness that falls over his friend's face. Really, he's all Piers has. Sure, there are others in their friend group, but Dudley is the one who holds them together. Without him, he knows that bond will dissolve. Piers has always had trouble socializing, but it was somewhat easier with Dudley by his side.

"Promise me this isn't goodbye," Piers says, his voice barely above a whisper and quivering ever so slightly. "Not… not a permanent goodbye."

Dudley laughs. "Permanent? Nah, mate. You really think you can get rid of me that easily?"

He doesn't know how he's going to keep in touch, but he thinks there must be a way. If witches and wizards can work magic, someone can find a way to get a letter to Surrey.

"You didn't promise."

"I promise."

He wonders if making a promise is a good idea. Things are pretty dark, from what he understands. Harry says some aspects of it are bleeding into the normal world (the Muggle world, he thinks, because he's trying so hard not to think of Harry's people as freaks anymore). Maybe promises are dangerous things right now, but he would give anything to make sure Piers knows that Dudley isn't going to just give up on him and leave him behind.

"When are you leaving?" Piers asks.

"Tomorrow."

Piers laughs. "So soon? Looks like we can't do much for a send-off, but Max will be home soon. Maybe he can bake you a cake?"

"I think I'd rather have his world-famous cookies," Dudley decides, unable to resist a grin.

He still has things to pack and so much he needs to take care of before the next day, but he doesn't care. It may be months or years before he can see Piers again, and he fully intends to make each and every precious second with his best friend count.

"Want help with the puzzle?" Dudley gestures toward the unfinished picture of what looks to be something sea-related.

"Nah. I know you think that's boring."

It's true enough. Dudley has never had the patience for it like Piers has. Piers can let his mind relax and find some sort of tranquility in sitting still, but Dudley is far too restless for that.

"Video games? Max bought me a new fighting game, but he hasn't had a day off to actually play it with me."

That is definitely more up his alley. Dudley grins. "Okay. But don't get your feelings hurt when I kick your arse at your own game, Polkiss."

"Bring it on, Dursley."

Dudley doesn't know what the future holds or when he will see Piers again. For now, though, there is only this moment with his best friend, and nothing, not even some tragic wizarding war, can take that away from here.