DRUNKEN DISASTER
1st August 1995.
Dudley struggled to fit the key into the lock of his front door. The streetlights were dimly lit and the one closest to Four Privet Drive flickered on and off, bathing a section of the pavement in moments of darkness. He smothered his sudden fit of giggles by pinching his lips together in determination, the key angling to the side of the lock. The ruddy thing wouldn't stay still and his dilated pupils wavered from right to left, following the scratches the key created against the wood.
Eventually, the key slid into the lock and Dudley cheered quietly as he turned the key and gently opened the front door. His actions were usually not so smooth and gentle and the happy giggles that overcame him certainly were a rare sighting. When Dudley got drunk, he was an angry drunk. If someone wound him up, he'd go off on one and wherever they were drinking, whether it be at one of their empty houses, (empty equalling no parents), or the park, the location would always end up trashed. Dudley would then stumble home, puke up into the toilet, kick off his shoes and flop into his bed, grumbling about the inconveniences of life before falling asleep, dead to the world.
However, tonight had been different. He was in a happy mood and he staggered towards the staircase, whistling tunelessly to himself. Quietly of course, he had enough wits about him still to realise it was the middle of the night and his parents, plus pain in the arse cousin, were all undoubtedly fast asleep. Unless Potter was having dreams again about his boyfriend Cedric…
Dudley tripped up the lower steps of the staircase, placing a sweaty hand onto the banister. The main flight of stairs loomed above him, similar to a never-ending escalator. He braced himself for the first step, his initial wince at the creak from the step morphing into a low giggle.
"One step… ooh, next one… Third one… twelfth one…. Ah, fifth one! M-Made it!"
He was only half-way up the stairs, but he still threw his arms up into the air and titled his head back, eyes closed and teeth showing off a triumphant grin. The stairs were a battle when intoxicated, his mother's special word for when his father downed one too many sherry's and his slurred speech coupled with his rants about the state of British politics sent Petunia coddling her husband, guiding him up the stairs to their bedroom, whilst Dudley, instead of emptying the half-filled glass into the kitchen sink, proceeded to neck the rest of the drink down and let out a satisfied sigh. His father drank a lot of sherry, so Dudley had a certain liking for the taste.
Opening his eyes, he blinked groggily and bent down, knees skimming the upper step. Soft carpet marked under his fingers and Dudley paused his movements, letting out a low whistle.
"I'm still on the s-s-stairs… Man, this is a f-funny escalator…"
He proceeded up the stairs on his hands and knees, resembling some sort of demented spider like in that funny clown film he and Piers had watched, the one where the stupid little kid stuck his arm into the sewers and the clown roared at the camera, then suddenly, the kid was in a coffin and being buried six feet under.
Dudley snickered, reaching the top of the landing. "W-Why did w-we never see the kid b-being eaten? Getting e-eaten by a clown, imagine t-that on your tombstone…. Oh shit-"
A soft thud on the landing.
He'd fallen forwards onto his face, his tired limbs collapsing underneath him, and he lay there, nose buried into the carpet. "Ow… t-that hurt. Where's my b-bed?"
Dudley slowly climbed to his feet, balance unsteady from the cans of cheap lager he'd chugged sitting on the roundabout at the deserted park. He liked all varieties of alcohol, but flouting the underage drinking rule and leaving their empty cans for the rubbish collectors to pick up felt good and the five of them had wandered back towards Magnolia Crescent, the atmosphere calm and chilled.
He stumbled towards his bedroom door, pushed down on the handle and gently opened the door, pulling an animated facial expression as he whispered to himself:
"Quiet, q-quiet. Just n-need to get to s-sleep. No more f-falls." He promptly let out a low cackle, before stacking it over a cardboard box placed near the threshold. Dudley held onto the handle with his hand, the other flying out to push down on the carpet to steady his balance. When he was not at risk of falling over again, Dudley let go of the handle, the door slowly creeping along the carpet. He brought his free hand up, putting his index and middle finger to his lips.
"Shush…," Dudley glanced up and smiled. "Hey, pretty birdie. W-Want a treat?"
The Snowy Owl looked at him, big eyes trained on the fingers brushing his lips. The Owl seemed surprised he was in the room… why wouldn't he be? It was his bedroom, after all.
"B-Birdie, want a cracker? W-Want a treat?" Finally upright after a few disastrous attempts, Dudley staggered forwards, took his fingers away from his lips and prodded them through the cage. "You're s-snow white… g-get it? L-like the… the… Shit, what's that t-thing called?"
He couldn't dwell on the subject much longer because when he went to pet her, the Owl hooted at him, causing Dudley to startle.
"I'll h-hoot back, watch." He bulged his eyes out and pouted his lips. "H-Hoot, hoot!"
The Owl blinked and if Dudley were sober and thinking straight, he would have sworn that the Owl reckoned that he was crazy.
Dudley giggled hysterically before pulling his fingers free. "I w-won. Bedtime, n-now."
He hiccupped and swayed on the spot, before launching himself backwards onto the bed, not hearing the Owl's alarmed hoot before he hit the mattress. Or more like, hit the side of the mattress and fell to the floor, the edge of the bedsheet overlapping the mattress and threatening to tickle his face. Dudley sat up with a groan, before pulling himself into the bed, letting his legs dangle off the side so his trainers wouldn't scuff the sheets. He was too lazy, tired and drunk to try and undo shoelaces at this time of night.
Dudley wiggled the back of his head against the pillow and curled up his arms, only to meet material a few metres in front of him. He grabbed a fold of the material, (a shirt?) and leveraged himself up slightly so he could peer over and see the face of the (shirt?) wearer. He got a good look at the face and flopped down again, the bed straining under his bulk, his eyes wide.
Why was his cousin in his bedroom?
Pondering why Harry wasn't in his own bedroom, (why he and his Owl had moved into his bedroom, Dudley couldn't understand), a sudden twisting movement made Dudley recoil back slightly. Half lidded green eyes bore into his dilated pupils, a yawn ripping free from the younger boy before mumbled words spilled out into the darkened room.
"D-Dudley? What are you doing?"
The one in question tugged his lips into a hazy smile. "Going to bed, night night." He burrowed towards his cousin and curled his strong arms around Harry's waist. "I love you… night night." Dudley snapped his eyes shut, smile drifting off of his face as he soon fell asleep, loud snores alarming Hedwig, who watched the intruder with beady eyes.
Harry continued to stare at his cousin, wincing at the iron grip. True, Dudley may be drunk and asleep, but he was still mighty strong and Harry knew there was little chance of breaking free without waking his cousin up. He sighed in defeat, turning slowly onto his back, where he stared up at the ceiling.
"I wish Uncle Vernon had locked me in here tonight, that way I wouldn't have had Dudley ambushing me in the middle of the night and cuddling up to me like I'm his best mate!"
A soft hoot sounded from the cage in the corner of the room.
"I know Hedwig, these summers are getting stranger and stranger. I bet Dudley thought this was his bedroom, though technically… it still is, I'm just 'borrowing it'." He shuddered abruptly. "I hope he isn't in a bad mood when he wakes up… Oh wait, this is Dudley, he's always in a bad mood when he wakes up, especially when he's hungover and finds out he's been sharing a bed with me for half the night!"
Time seemed to tick by and as Harry began to doze off again, hopeful for there to be no nightmares to plague him for the rest of the night, a sudden thought entered his head and he had to fight the urge to bolt upright in bed, at risk of waking a drunken Dudley up.
'What the hell is Uncle Vernon going to say when he comes to wake me up in the morning?! Bet it will make for an interesting breakfast…'