It's Adrian Pucey who opens the door after Harry knocks. He hasn't seen the man since the Battle of Hogwarts four years ago—the only thing he remembers about Adrian is that he was on the Slytherin Quidditch team, a couple years older than him, and that he never once committed a foul that Harry saw. He looks different now—his Arabic ancestry now clearer, the baby fat in his cheeks replaced by hollowed cheeks and a short beard, his eyes a little softer, a stud in one ear and a drop earring in the other. He's wearing denim blue jeans and an Appleby Arrows Quidditch T-shirt. "You're here," Adrian says pleasantly.

Awkward, Harry gives him a half-grimace, half-smile. "Yeah, uh…"

The other man comes forward and embraces him warmly, to which Harry gives him a clumsy pat in response. "It's been a long time, Potter—last time I saw you was… the Reconstruction, right? We put back Gryffindor Tower together, Merlin's beard, that was a shit-ton of bricks, yeah? I was coughing out dust for weeks. Remember?"

Harry blinks at him, mind blank. His memories of the Reconstruction are scattered, mostly of crying students and cleaning blood out of the stones in the floor. "Er…"

Adrian smiles, holding him out at arm's length. "No worries, mate. I don't expect you to remember that—your face is a lot more memorable than mine, and besides, we were all a little shell-shocked back then… Anyway, wanna come inside?"

Harry's still trying to understand what's happening here. "Um… I thought… Is this…"

Adrian, examining his expression, reflects the same confusion that he's experiencing until—"Oh! He didn't tell you?" He chuckles, sheepish. "That's okay… He was so nervous about today—I wouldn't expect him to. Dudley's my fiance. He's just inside. I know you're not just here to catch up with me, mate." He claps Harry on the shoulder and then props the door open with his foot. "Come on in, Harry, make yourself at home."

At Adrian's direction, Harry enters the flat and is immediately overcome with astonishment. "Dudley, love, Harry's here!" shouts Adrian, down the hall. "Sorry, he's probably in our bedroom." This is the flat Dudley and Adrian share, which is a concept Harry has yet to wrap his mind around. "You want tea?"

He swallows. "Er...sure." When Dudley called him a week ago, stammering and anxious and asking to meet him for lunch at his flat, Harry expected him to ask for money when he arrived, maybe, but certainly not… Dudley is engaged to a wizard? And a man? It's a beautiful flat, really, decorated in metallic engraved pieces and draped in warm tones of scarlet, copper, and saffron. To his left is a kitchen smelling of warm spices, with rosewood cabinets and shelves lined with half-filled jars; to his right is the living room, with a camel-coloured couch and pink flowers dangling from hanging baskets. A gorgeous rug fits most of the floor, patterned with lines of fuchsia and ruby.

Adrian leads him to the couch and pushes a mug of tea into his hands. "Sit down, Sit down, don't be shy…" He moves aside a stack of books—Harry reads the titles as Adrian stacks them: To Kill A Mockingbird, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Call Me By Your Name, Quidditch Through the Ages—and motions for him to sit, which Harry does, still gaping at their beautiful home. He tries to say something, but his mouth simply won't let him. Thankfully, Adrian starts talking, unaware of Harry's blatant bewilderment.

"We thought you weren't gonna show," he admits, sitting on the futon adjacent to Harry. "It's a few hours past the time you were supposed to arrive" —he holds his hand up— "not that I blame you, of course. This is a... stressful experience for the both of you, I know. I kept telling him you'd come, but he was pretty wrecked when you didn't show."

"Sorry, I—"

"No, no," the man says, and he rolls up his sleeves to reveal his brown forearms. "Don't be sorry, Harry, honestly. It's completely understandable. If it were me, I might not show at all—you're real brave, real kind, for doing this, you know."

"Er…" Harry manages. "Thanks."

"Dudley's been stressing about this for weeks, bloody months, real upset about this whole situation, so when he finally got up the courage to call you…" The courage… What does Dudley want? Why is… This is all too much for Harry all at once. He can't work up a question in his mind that doesn't sound completely and utterly stupid, so he keeps quiet. "...and we.. me and Dudley both, really appreciate you agreeing to come." He frowns. "Where is he? I'll—er, gimme a second, Harry, I'll go get him, he's probably…" Adrian doesn't finish. He stands and strides down the hallway and disappears behind a door, leaving Harry alone on the couch. He hasn't felt this out-of-place in a long time; as he takes awkward sips of tea, bouncing his leg up and down at a monstrous pace, he tries to clear his jumbled thoughts.

He can hear a muffled conversation happening down the hall, and he does his best to ignore it. Something brushes against his leg, and he glances down to find a medium-sized black poodle poking at his shoe like it's a toy; automatically, Harry reaches down to pet him.

"That's Pepper."

Harry looks up. It's Dudley, that's for sure, but he looks entirely different. He's lost enough of that extra weight that he's sturdy, not big, and he's a little taller than Harry remembers. His hair is longer, parted in the middle to settle on both sides of his face, and he's wearing a mint-green sweater and sweats, and his hands are in his pockets. What's so unrecognizable about his cousin is his face—instead of a haughty smirk or an irritated pout, he looks more real. He seems more grounded, his expression based in satisfaction, but speckled with melancholy and remorse. Harry's never seen him like this before. "Our dog," he explains. "Adrian'd never had a dog before he met me, but he took a liking to him… We've got a Kneazle, too, did you see her? Her name's Mojo–she's a little quieter, but you'll probably see her around the flat, er…" He trails off, and the tension between them congeals. Dudley's nervous, maybe, bordering on scared. Why is he so…

"Dudley," he says stupidly, "why am I here?"

His cousin is standing before him now, this almost unrecognizable person, and he sits on the futon where Adrian Pucey was only moments ago. For an agonizing length of silence, Dudley only wrings his hands, staring at the rug. "I…" he starts. "I wanted to apologize." Finally, he looks up at Harry, and the potency of his stare is blazing.

This is certainly unexpected.

Harry blinks. "For…"

"For everything. For torturing you so much as a kid—you didn't deserve it, you never did, no one does. What I did was...inexcusable, it was horrible, and after I… I just… I know how cruel it was. I want you to know how terribly, terribly sorry I am for everything I put you through. I…" Bloody hell, is Dudley crying? "I… There's nothing I can say that can make it better. You don't have to forgive me, you don't have to do anything, honest, I—I—I just wanted to say it to you."

"Uh…" he responds. "It's okay, Dudley. I'm over it. We were just kids—"

"That doesn't mean it hurt you any less," Dudley expresses, gesturing to emphasize his point. "Don't try to downplay it, Harry. I was terrible to you."

Harry sits back a little. "Er, yeah," he says, startled. "You...you were."

"I know saying sorry doesn't—doesn't take it all away, I just…" And there he is, crying again.

Harry's never seen Dudley cry before, not in any way that meant anything. Dudley had always been such a dramatic kid—every action he made was to get exactly what he wanted—a bout of tears for dessert, a screaming fit for a present, a wail to send Harry back under the stairs. "I don't get it," says Harry, finally gaining his ground. "What… What happened?" He shakes his head. "You're... different."

Dudley sniffles, gathering himself, and nods. "I know. I… Well, after the war was over, after everything settled down again, I went to uni, just like my parents wanted. It—it hit me hard, to be honest. Years of being told I was special and perfect and everything else kinda fucked with my brain, you know? Every time something went wrong I'd...spiral. Two months in, I…" He swipes the back of his hand over his eyes. "It got bad. It was after something stupid, you know? Everything just built up and… I… I tried to kill myself."

Something inside Harry twists horrifically.

"Jumped off some building in London, don't even remember which…" He shakes his head, meeting Harry's eyes again. That's what's so different about Dudley, Harry realizes. There's pain behind his eyes, the same pain that he has in his, that his friends have in theirs. "I survived—a wizard saw me last minute, tried to soften my fall with a spell. Saved my fucking life, and I'll never even know how it was. I broke a shit-ton of bones and got put in a psych ward for a while...but I needed it, that wake-up call, you know? I realized a lot of shit about myself, and about how I treated other people… I realized I was gay, too—that everything my parents said to you, about magic, it was the same about how he talked about queer people, and it made me bury that part of myself so deep…" He sighs, a difficult, heavy sound. For the first time in his life, Harry wants to hug him. "I dropped out of school. Got a job working in a cafe downtown. I needed some time to just...figure shit out, you know… Visited Mum and Dad, but Mum was distraught after she heard what happened, could barely look at me, and after Dad found out about me..."

"Dudley…" Harry starts.

Dudley gives that strange half-smile, the one Harry's given himself to other people. "I'm not trying to get you to feel sorry for me, Harry. I'm just trying to explain. That shit I went through… It made me a new person. Well...I'm the same person, I suppose, but I've grown. The world doesn't revolve around me anymore. This is me, now. I've grown so much, Harry, and I hate the part of myself that did all those things to hurt you. I'm sorry for what I did. I figured shit out, eventually. Went to therapy, dated a few people… And met Adrian, moved in with him, found out he was a wizard.." He smiles again, this time warmly. "...and it didn't faze me in the slightest. We work it out, more or less, the whole wizard-Muggle thing. But I've learned to love, Harry, and I just want you to know that I… I want to…" His eyebrows furrow, but he looks soft, optimistic. "Do you think… Can we start over?"

Harry, through all his confusion, nods his head. One thing is very clear to him—the Dudley he's talking to now is nothing like the one he grew up with. He's experienced growth, the kind that you can only get to through something difficult. This one, he guesses, was buried under layers and layers of aggression and repression and arrogance and confusion. "Yeah, Dudley. Of course."

This wonderous wave of relief washes over his cousin's face. "Really? Oh, god—really? Are you sure?"

Harry smiles. "Yeah." Something settles in his chest. "You know, in three words, I can sum up everything I've… I've learned about life." Dudley watches him intently. "It goes on. People change." He squeezes the now-lukewarm mug of tea in his hands. "And—so have you." It's the most he's said since he's arrived, but he hopes it's enough. Dudley… Harry's always felt a disconnect from his family, particularly from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but what he felt from Dudley's never-ending barrage of attacks was a different kind of betrayal—Dudley was supposed to be his brother, but he never was. Now… He's extending an olive branch, and the love-starved Boy-Who-Lived wants nothing more than to take the expression of compassion and devour it. "Let's start over."

"I remember the first time I had to wear those," Harry says, fixing Dudley's bowtie. "I hated the whole goddamn outfit."

Dudley laughs. "Really?"

"Yep. I told you about the Yule Ball, yeah? My professor bought me a set that I could wear for it, but I thought I looked like a crazy old man. You'll get used to 'em, Dud. Promise."

"Well," chuckles Dudley, "it's nice to know I'm not the only one. These dress robes are bloody weird, but… It does look nice, I'll give you that."

Harry finishes adjusting it, finally, and stands back to admire his handiwork. "Yeah, you look amazing. Really, you gotta thank whoever designed this shit. Adrian'll never know what hit him."

Dudley beams. He's dressed in baby blue dress robes, complemented with a white bow tie and gold cufflinks. "You're gonna make me cry right now."

Harry makes an ugh sound. "Please don't—"

"I might! I'm getting married today! And, crying is just such a wonderful stress reliever in general, and if you're feeling emotionally overwhelmed—"

"Ugh, you need to stop going to so much therapy, Dudley, Merlin's beard—"

"Says the guy who goes to therapy twice a week!" Dudley shoots back.

"I didn't cry all the way through my last session—"

"That's cry-shaming, Harry!"

Harry throws up his arms. "That's not a real thing!"

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it—"

The door opens, and a brown-haired head sticks in. "For Merlin's sake, mates, keep it down. We got ten minutes till showtime."

"Sorry, Graham," the cousins chorus.

As soon as the door is closed, Harry's head jerks to Dudley. "How do you know him?"

Dudley raises his hands in surrender. "He's, er, Graham Montague–Adrian's friend. They played Quidditch together, you know, the broomstick ga—"

"I know it's the bloody broomstick game, you moron, I played it, too, it's just so mad you know people I went to school with."

He shrugs, amused. "Guess you'll have to get used to it, mate."

Harry shakes his head. "You're mad." They do the final touches on Dudley's robes, making sure everything is presentable. Then he picks up a camera from a nearby table and snaps a pre-wedding photo of Dudley. "Still no word from Petunia?" he says, putting down the camera as he tries to slip in word of their estranged guardian without upsetting him too much.

"No… It's okay. I didn't really expect her to show, anyway. I don't think this is how she expected her son's wedding to turn out anyway."

"You mean marrying a Slytherin?" jokes Harry, attempting to lighten the mood. "I know. She'd much rather you have a family with a nice Hufflepuff. Maybe a Ravenclaw."

Dudley rolls his eyes. "You know, now that I think about it, my mum would've found something wrong with my wedding no matter who I married. No one's perfect enough for her precious 'Dudders.'"

Harry tries to hold it in, but he bursts out laughing. "Dudders!"

"Oh, shut up, Harry—"

"I haven't heard that one in forever!" He cackles incessantly. "Oh, Dudders—my ickle Duddykins, my itty bitty Diddykins!"

Then Dudley starts to laugh, too, because Harry's laughter has him on the ground, holding his stomach; "Diddykins!"

"Diddy Popkin!"

"Dinky Duddydums!"

"Diddy Poo!"

They're laughing so hard that tears well in Dudley's eyes, his face bright red, and Harry's are squeezed shut as he gasps from laughing so hard. "Oh—god—" Dudley manages, as the laughter dies. "Oh—Jesus—you know me—too well—"

A head peeks in. "Oh, Merlin—c'mon, it's time, mates! We can't have a wedding without the bloody best man, let's go! Harry, we gotta get you out there—"

Graham's arrival only makes them laugh even harder. Dudley wheezes helplessly, sprawled on the couch. "Dudders!" he exclaims with a vociferous cackle, and they laugh and laugh and laugh.

Written for: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry [Gryffindor]

Term 12 - Assignment #10: Healer Studies: Healing Magic, Task #2 [Write about repairing something that is broken.]

Challenges: Disney Challenge [Characters:2], Bingo [4B], The Fabulous World of Comics [12], Book Club [Newt], Showtime [2], Liza's Loves [1], Lizzy's Loft [Items:2, Characters:5, Words:5], Scamander's Case [18], Film Festival [30], Marvel Appreciation [Outfit:Snazzy Cloak], Lyric Alley [11], Days of the Year [April 2nd], Spring [9], Colour [9], Tarot Cards [4], Earth Element [Write about someone who is responsible.], Ultimate Battle Competition [Gryffindor's Sword], Jedi [5], IWD [Cesar Chavez, journalist], Love in Motion [Dudley & Harry], Game of Life [Career:9], Geek Pride [Lucifer], Gobstones [Grey Stone, Accuracy:10, Power:12, Technique:11], Say It With Flowers [Queen Anne's Lace]

WC: [2707 words]