Author's Note: Written for the Harry Potter Fanfic Club's Autumn Writing Challenge. Words of inspiration were Leaves, Cider, Crisp, Sweater, and Crimson.

At first glance, most people wouldn't take Dudley Dursley to be a particularly outdoorsy person. Those people wouldn't exactly be wrong. But Dudley certainly found himself outside more and more often over the last few months.

When the Dursleys had first arrived at the old farm in the Irish countryside on that muggy day in early August, Dudley couldn't get in the farmhouse fast enough. The bitter stench of manure assaulted his senses, turning his stomach and making his palms clammy. Though he would rather bathe in that manure than admit this, he had cried himself to sleep that first night believing he'd never get used to the horrid smell.

As it turned out, staying cooped up in the old farmhouse with his parents was far worse than anything Dudley would encounter outside.

It was a safe house, they'd been told. A place where they would be tucked away from whatever dangerous forces might choose them as a bargaining chip to get their hands on his cousin. Dudley wasn't very clear on the details about this war his cousin seemed to be at the center of, but he understood the severity more than his parents did.

The morning after that first rotten night on the farm, Dudley and his parents had been sat down at the small kitchen table by Charlie Weasley to go over some ground rules. Naturally, Vernon Dursley did not take kindly to being uprooted from his home and told he could not leave the perimeter of the farm without supervision.

"If one of these Dead Eaters finds me, what do I care if that boy is handed over to them?" Vernon had exclaimed, red in the face. "He's been a bloody nuisance since he was dropped on our door by you lot!"

Dudley had only known Charlie Weasley for less than a day at that point. But even so, he knew the dark look which spread over Charlie's face in that moment was a serious warning.

"Harry Potter is the only person that can end this war and stop the mass genocide of people like you," Charlie said firmly. "I would do anything to ensure Harry's safety. Including sacrifice my life for his." He had paused and casually flicked his wand in Vernon's direction, summoning restraints from thin air which wrapped themselves around his father's wrists. "It should go without saying," Charlie continued evenly, "but if I'm willing to die to ensure Harry's safety, I'm certainly willing to kill for it too."

Dudley's father didn't offer any such suggestions after this encounter, though that didn't stop him from loudly complaining about the farm every moment he could. Vernon hated the constant presence of Charlie Weasley- who had been assigned to live with them for their protection until after the war was over- and he did not shy away from expressing his dissatisfaction. It was for this reason Dudley sought out chores on the farm. Any excuse to get away from his father's cranky tirades or his mother's snide quips about Charlie's hair, which Dudley thought resembled Leonardo DiCaprio's hair in Romeo + Juliet.

Not that he'd actually seen the film, of course. He'd only known about it from his mother's gossip magazines which she left lying about the house while they still lived on Privet Drive. And he only ever picked up those up if he was searching for his father's Sports Illustrated magazines, of course. No other reason to flip through his mother's gossip… the point is he only knew the hairstyle in passing. That was all.

It was a brisk mid-October morning. Petunia began the day lamenting about how she'd normally get some cider from the market on days like this, which of course started Vernon on yet another rant about their "restricted freedoms". Dudley did not want to stick around for this, so he pulled a sweater over his head and slipped through the back door.

Half a dozen large oak trees were scattered between the farmhouse and the rusted barn situated on the east side of the property. Most of the leaves had changed to brilliant shades of copper, crimson, and gold, and they were now blanketing the ground so that barely any grass could be seen. Dudley grabbed an old rake from the barn and began pulling leaves into neat piles. He hummed an old tune that his mother used to sing to him before bed as he concentrated on the task at hand. Eventually, he lost himself reminiscing on simpler times- days without vague looming threats to his safety or constant internal battles as he questioned everything his parents had taught him about what kind of man he was expected to be…

He wasn't sure how long he'd been at it, but by the time the third and final pile of leaves was formed the sun was at the highest point in the sky and the air no longer held the sharp chill it had in the morning. Dudley exhaled and wiped the sweat that was just beginning to form on his forehead. He crossed his arms and lifted the bottom of his sweater up, pulling it off over his head. The collar was a little tight and he struggled, temporarily blind for a moment, to wriggle his head free.

"Need some help?" He heard an amused voice say as he finally tore the sweater off and threw it to the ground. Dudley jumped back, momentarily startled to find Charlie Weasley suddenly standing right in front of him.

"Shit, Charlie!" Dudley huffed. "You know I hate it when you pop up like that!"

Charlie flashed a wild grin in response. His eyes drifted down to Dudley's midsection then back up. Apple in hand, he gestured nonchalantly to Dudley's hip and simply said, "Shirt's messed up," before biting into the crisp Granny Smith with a slight smirk.

Dudley's hands flew in a panic to pull down the hem of his shirt, which had lifted enough in his battle with the sweater so that the bottom of the shirt was resting on top of his left hip bone. Although he'd lost a considerable amount of his baby fat (and okay, maybe not-so-baby fat) over the last year and a half, he hadn't shed the "former fat kid" mentality quite yet. And how could he when he was living with a man like Charlie? Even after the last few months of manual farm labor had helped Dudley to start building a thin layer of muscle where the extra weight used to be, it was nothing compared to the years upon years' worth of layered muscles that stretched up Charlie Weasley's abdomen, across his chest, then back down his shoulder blades and arms.

Not that he'd been looking, of course. He'd only seen when Charlie left the bathroom after a shower, still dripping wet and with only a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His dark tattoos, which somehow moved around his arms on their own, were a stark contrast to his otherwise pale skin. And he'd only run into Charlie leaving the shower because he happened to need to use the toilet at the same time, of course. Not like it happened often, it was only two or three times… this week… the point is the farmhouse was a lot smaller than you'd think it to be. That was all.

Charlie, gesturing once again with the apple, started walking closer. "You should have told me you were planning on doing this today. I could have…" he stopped less than an arm's length in front of Dudley, pausing to take another bite of his apple, "…offered to give you a hand."

Dudley's mouth went suddenly dry. "H-how, what d-do you-"

Before he could compose himself and form an intelligible sentence, Charlie had pulled out his wand and was waving it in an elegant looping pattern at the nearest pile of leaves.

Right, of course. The leaves.

Dudley swore Charlie Weasley would be the death of him.

Thin trails of leaves were now spiraling out of all three piles of leaves and swirling up into the air. Dudley glanced nervously towards the house, waiting for his parents to barge out and start shouting at him to get away from Charlie. They still didn't understand Charlie wasn't the threat. And as much as Dudley was still nervous whenever he witnessed magic, he'd at least been able to realize that magic in the hands of Charlie Weasley was something to marvel at instead of fear.

Answering the question that wasn't asked, Charlie smiled at Dudley reassuringly. "Don't worry. When I left them your dad had fallen asleep in his armchair and your mum was engrossed her knitting."

"Cool," Dudley nodded. He watched the leaves floating through the air, mesmerized by the way they were now sorting themselves by color. The crumpled brown leaves were starting to form a massive silhouette in the sky while the red and gold leaves billowed through the brown ones in rhythmic bursts. The more he studied the shape, the more familiar it became.

"A dragon?" Dudley asked. "Breathing fire?"

Charlie threw another one of his wild grins over his shoulder.

Dudley hesitated before speaking. He was so accustomed to avoiding his cousin in topics of conversation his entire life. He was basically raised to pretend he didn't even exist. But the more his world and his cousin's were starting to overlap, the more curious he found himself. "Harry has nightmares often. My room was right next to his and I'd sometimes wake to him shouting in the middle of the night. I heard something about dragons one time."

The dragon of leaves roared overhead and another ball of fire exploded from its jaws. Charlie didn't respond, but offered a knowing nod. Dudley wasn't sure if that was acknowledgment of the dragon or the nightmares, but he took it as a good sign that he wasn't admitting to anything too crazy.

"Are dragons real?"

Charlie burst out laughing, and at first Dudley felt embarrassed thinking he may have asked a stupid question after all. But then he realized the laughter was fueled by childlike glee. Charlie beamed as if he'd been waiting his whole life to be asked if dragons were real. His eyes sparkled with some kind of passion Dudley did not yet understand.

His eyes sparkled.

Fuck.

"Did I never tell you what my day job is? I didn't get six NEWTS to sit around and guard muggles all day!"

Dudley didn't understand most of what Charlie was saying, but his heart was skipping beats watching him speak.

"Most of these scars aren't from war," he exclaimed, chucking his long forgotten apple towards the nearest oak tree and excitedly lifting his sleeve to show Dudley the faint zigzagged patterns of lines running up his arm. Dudley hadn't been able to see the scars before, but up close- so close- he could see healed claw marks and tender looking patches of skin that had once been burned.

"You tame dragons?" Dudley asked in awe.

"No, not tame. Dragons aren't the domesticated sort. But they do have many powerful magical properties that are very useful, and very valuable. So somebody has to be trusted to ethically handle and breed them." Charlie pulled his sleeve back down and winked at Dudley. "That's where yours truly comes in."

He was living with a fit, tattooed, mountain of a man who could do literal magic and, oh yeah, happens to handle dragons as a career. Yeah. Charlie Weasley was definitely going to be the death of him.

Before Dudley could formulate a coherent thought, a loud crack rang out around them and he felt himself being violently yanked by the wrist. One second he had been face to face with Charlie, in awe of his scars. The next he was suddenly standing behind the wizard, who had a firm grasp on his wrist with one hand and was pointing his wand out in a defensive stance with the other. The leaves dropped suddenly back to the ground, spreading everywhere and negating the hours Dudley spent raking them up.

Then just as fast as Dudley realized they were in danger, it became apparent this was a false alarm.

"Merlin! What the bloody hell is wrong with you? We're at war in case you've forgotten! Ever heard of owling ahead? Sending a Patronus?"

Dudley, for what it was worth, had heard of none of these things.

Charlie's protective hand lingered for a moment before easing away. Did it linger? Dudley thought he must be imagining things.

"Who did I catch you snogging in the garden the night before Bill and Fleur's wedding?" Charlie suspiciously asked the man who stood in front of them.

The other man blushed deeply enough to almost match his red hair, and Dudley noticed he bore a striking resemblance to Charlie. Though he was a more awkward, gangling version of him.

"Really, mate? That's the question you're going with?" the man complained. "It was Hermione and we were not snogging. Though we may have been if you hadn't been poking your nose around where it wasn't welcome." Embarrassed, the man shot back with a question that was clearly intended to make Charlie feel just as uncomfortable. "Who did I catch you snogging in the garden the summer before you left for Romania?"

"Oh please," Charlie brushed the man off "As if me and Michael Clearwater were some huge secret. Everybody and their Aunties knew I was sneaking around with him our entire last year of school." He stepped to the side so he was no longer standing between the two men. "Anyway, Dudley this is my brother Ron. Ron, this is Harry's cousin Dudley."

Dudley could hardly register the introduction and didn't even notice that Ron's eyes narrowed at the sound of his name.

Sneaking around with 'him'. Him!

Maybe he hadn't been imagining things…

"Speaking of Harry and Hermione," Charlie was saying, his tone suddenly serious again, "Where's the rest of your Golden Trio? Why are you showing up to an Order safe house out of the blue?"

Ron hung his head in shame. "Harry and I sort of got in an argument…" He trailed off, not able to finish his confession.

Charlie's eyes filled with rage, and the same dark look that Dudley had only seen once before crossed his face. "Leave," he spat. "You are supposed to be his best friend and you've abandoned-"

"I know!" Ron shouted, cutting him off. "I know, okay? Trust me I already feel bloody terrible, I don't need you making it worse. I can't find them now though! I thought maybe if I visited a few of the safe houses someone might know some information?"

"None of us know anything, Ron. Why would we? This is a safe house. The less we know, the better."

A tense silence fell upon the three men. Dudley's mind was reeling with a million questions, though he knew better than to ask any of them at the moment. Or ever.

"Leave," Charlie repeated. "Get the fuck out of here and figure out some way to fix this. By leaving him you've put dozens of people's lives in danger. Especially Harry's."

Ron, resigned, dragged a hand down his face then back up through his hair. "Right, okay. I'll leave now. I'm going to fix this."

Charlie nodded in response before Ron disappeared into thin air. When he was gone, he threw his head back and yelled obscenities at the sky. After a few moments, Charlie fished in the pockets, pulled out a cigarette, and lit the tip of it with his wand. He took a long drag of the cigarette and turned back to Dudley.

"Sorry about that," he said blowing the smoke away from Dudley's face. "Here, let me fix the leaves."

A few quick jabs of his wand and Charlie had not only restored the leaves back to the three original piles, he also stuffed them into bags and levitated them next to the trash bins beside the old barn.

"I've got a few people I need to contact in light of recent events. Don't stay out here too much longer, alright mate? I think it's best if you and your parents stayed inside the rest of the day." Charlie turned and made his way back towards the house.

"Sure thing," Dudley agreed. He threw the rake over his shoulder and began carrying it back to the barn.

"Oh and Big D?" Charlie called out to him.

Wait, what did he just say?

Dudley turned back, suspicious.

"Hair's messed up." Charlie threw him one last grin before walking through the back door into the farmhouse.

Dudley reached up and pulled a single crimson leaf from his hair. How long had that been there? He held the leaf in his hand, smoothing the pad of his thumb over wrinkled edges.

Sneaking around with 'him'.

Fuck.

Dudley tucked the leaf in the pocket of his trousers. Not that he had any special reason to hang on to it, of course. He just didn't see the point of throwing it back on the ground when all the rest of the leaves were stored away in plastic bags already. It's not like he planned on pressing it into the pages of his journal that he kept hidden under his mattress. It's not like he planned on pulling it out of the journal on nights that he couldn't sleep. He was certainly not planning on holding it up to the light from his window, twirling it by the stem between his fingers, gazing at the way it danced just like it did when it was fire breathing out of the dragon's mouth. And he absolutely wasn't planning on hiding it away back inside the journal when his thoughts started to run away from him and he began asking himself if there was any chance that he and Charlie could ever… well no, that's just silly. Charlie Weasley was Dudley's guard. That was all.