A/N: A HUGE shout-out (okay, textually speaking) of thank you to all you superb reviewers! I love you guys to death!
D is for Dudley Dursley
"Honestly, Albus, I've never seen such a gluttonous boy in my entire life!"
"That's saying something."
"Yes, and do you know what…wait. What the hell do you mean, 'That's saying something?'"
"Nothing, dear, nothing at all!"
"It better damn well be nothing at all."
"You were saying?"
"That fatso decided to throw a can of his neighbor's…Mrs. Figg, isn't it? A can of Mrs. Figg's cat food at me!"
"How cruel."
"Yes, it was. I saw him pulling on that wizened arm of his horsey mother and begging her for a knickerbocker glory…"
"I love knickers. Especially your knickers."
"…and it's not as though that fat arse needs more sugar either."
"Now, now, Minerva. Be nice. That poor boy…"
"Spoilt boy. You know, it just amazes me how the English can vulgarize ice cream!"
"You're English too, aren't you?"
"Scottish, you fool."
"But a Scottish tartan lady who nurses a soft spot for Earl Grey tea, nonetheless, right?
"I fail to see how that has any relevance to the topic we're discussing!"
"Which is?"
"Dudley! I mean, that name alone ought to tell you something about the boy."
"How perceptive you are, my dear,"
"I still have a mean looking bruise."
"Would you like me to come over and kiss it better?"
"Thanks, but I'll pass."
"That's cold."
"You deserve cold after commenting about my knickers!"
"I think my present showed off your…"
"Albus, if you complete that sentence, I'll shove my wand up your conk!"
"…Legs superbly."
"You…! Are…. So Sweet."
"I have my methods, dear."
"Erm…so, back to fat-arsed-Dudley…er…I"
"Maybe you'll remember if you let me kiss your bruise?"
"Er…okay."
A/N: Ahh, the images. As always, please review! Anything and everything is appreciated!