Silently, the shadowy forms drifted along the street. They were coming for him again, sucking the life and hope from his very soul. This time, though, he was not the only target. Even as the familiar pain and heartache of his parents' murder rose in his thoughts, he felt them probing and prodding his mind for something new. Whatever it was, he would not let them have it.

Harry sat up quickly, the cold sweat running down his forehead. How long had it been since he'd had a nightmare that potent? Ginny's warm hand gently stroked the hair from his forehead, pushing it up out of his eyes, reminding him of the answer. Not once since she had begun sharing his bed had he woken up like that. She quietly caressed him, waiting patiently while he calmed himself. That was just one of the countless things that he loved about her, the way she always knew exactly what to do. Settling back into place at her side, he kissed her gently and shared everything with her.

----

The drive home seemed to take less time than the trip to Godric's Hollow. Munching on a snack he'd bought at the gas station, Dudley momentarily regretted leaving so early. Perhaps Harry's girlfriend would have cooked him breakfast if he'd lingered. The more he thought about it, though, the happier he was that he had left when he did. He hoped that his thank-you note would suffice to repay his cousin for letting him use his room. Dudley hadn't seen any point in imposing on Harry any longer than necessary. Entering his own home, Dudley detected the distinct smell of overcooked sausages.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're home, Duddiepoo," his mother gushed as he came in the front door. "I was worried that you wouldn't have a proper breakfast, so I've kept something warm for you."

"It's ok, mum, I've eaten," Dudley mumbled. He really hated it when she called him that. At least Luna had consulted him before giving him a new name. Without another word, he skulked up to his room and changed into his workout clothes.

When Dudley returned from his jog, he immediately noticed something was amiss. Traditionally, this would have been a sign that something strange had happened and Harry was in for it again. Unfortunately, Harry was long gone. As he walked up the drive, Dudley noticed his father glaring at him from the front doorway.

"You, inside, now," Vernon commanded once Dudley was within earshot. Dudley tried to recall if he'd done anything to get into trouble lately. Stepping inside, he realized the problem. A tawny, somewhat dilapidated owl sat perched on the banister. The bird spun its head around to observe Dudley as he came in and made an odd squawk, as if in greeting.

"That," Vernon began, pointing a pudgy finger at the owl, "brought this." He redirected his finger to a piece of parchment resting in his other hand.

"Why would an owl bring Harry's mail here?" Dudley asked. "He lives in Godric's Hollow."

"How do you know where he lives?" Vernon exploded.

The noise brought Petunia out of the kitchen. She screamed upon seeing the owl. "What is that thing doing in our home? It's going to scratch the wood!"

"Never mind the bloody wood, woman," Vernon retorted hotly. "Dudley, what is the meaning of this?!" He thrust the parchment in Dudley's face.

Suppressing the urge to slap his father's hand out of his face, Dudley took hold of the parchment and examined it. It was sealed with an odd purple substance, though slight tears in the parchment around the seal indicated that someone had tried to open it. Across the side, it read "To Darren." As he watched, the word Darren flickered and was replaced by the word Dudley written in red with a line through it. The message flashed from Darren to not-Dudley every few seconds.

"Who is Darren?" Petunia asked, leaning over her husband's shoulder.

"I'm Darren," Dudley replied with a hint of pride. He quickly began trying to figure out how best to get away from his parents. He had no intention of reading a note from Luna with his parents around.

"You are not bloody Darren!" Vernon shouted. "You are named for my great uncle Dudley, one of the finest Dursleys to ever walk the face of the earth. Now, why on earth are you getting messages from Potter? And why is he calling you Darren?"

"It's not from him, is it?" Dudley replied. "It's from someone else." With that, he attempted to move up the stairs, only to be blocked by his father.

"Where do you think you are going? Open that right now and give it here!"

"Vernon, please don't shout at little Duddikins," Petunia interjected.

"Quiet, woman! I will handle this!"

Dudley's eyes narrowed as his father shouted at his mother. "I see you already tried to open it yourself. Wouldn't let you, would it? Well, it's my letter and I'm reading it by myself."

Vernon's face turned dark red as he leaned down, directly in front of his son. Foam frothed at the edges of his lips as he breathed heavily, barely controlling his rage. "You will open it right here, right now, or so help me I'll…"

"You'll what? Lock me in the cupboard and forget to feed me for a few days?" Dudley shouted back. "Smack me around a bit and tell the neighbors I fell down the stairs? Give it a try, old man. I'm not afraid of you like Harry was."

For a moment, the two men stood staring at each other. Petunia wept silently, unsure what to do and afraid to move at all lest she spark an explosion. Finally, Dudley ended the stand off by simply shoving past his father, storming up to his room, and slamming the door behind him.

"Not one word," Vernon whispered to his wife. "Not one word." He grabbed his hat and coat and left the house. Petunia stumbled into the sitting room and collapsed onto a chair.

--------

It took Dudley a few minutes to settle down enough to even remember about the letter in his hands. As gently as he could, and cursing the fact that he had inherited his father's fat, clumsy fingers, he broke the seal and opened the parchment.

Dear Darren,

Thank you so much for the lovely birthday present. Mom always used to say how important it was to send thank-you notes right after a party, so I've started right away. I'm doing yours first, as you can tell.

Dad says it's ok for you to come along with us when we go looking for the C-T F S's. He would like you to bring some extra bananas if you can, maybe a papaya as well. He claims he just wants to thank you for your help, but I expect he wants to interrogate you. I've already told him that we will be good and do nothing more than snog now and then when he is not around.

I will come by to pick you up on Friday. Harry and Ginny will tell me how to find your place. I suppose I could just follow my owl, as they always seem to know where to go, but then again, that might be hard, being unable to fly. I could use a broom, but I've never liked that much. Best to just get the address, I think.

See you on Friday!

Luna

The next few days went by much more smoothly than Dudley had feared. In the time-honored Dursley tradition, his parents had apparently decided to pretend that the unpleasant incident with the owl and the letter had never occurred. For his part, Dudley did all he could to avoid his parents. He spent as much time as possible out of the house, working out, taking long hikes and such. He hadn't had a nightmare since his visit to Godric's Hollow, so he relished the opportunity to get some good, uninterrupted sleep. Normally, he might have spent time with his cronies, but the visions of his dreams had left him unenthusiastic about the lads in the neighborhood. Besides, the only thing he really could concentrate on was Luna, and he certainly wasn't about to discuss her with louts like them.

Each day, he replayed in his mind the events of that evening at Potter's house: the things she said, every step of their walk together, the feel of her in his arms and her lips on his cheek. By Thursday evening, he had mostly forgotten the fight with his father, so anxious was he to see Luna again the next day. Dudley's spirits were quite high as he returned home from the grocer, a bag of various tropical fruits under his arm.

"What's all that then?" Vernon grunted, looking up from the table as Dudley set his bag on the counter in the kitchen.

"How sweet and thoughtful!" Petunia exclaimed. "Duddikins has done some grocery shopping for his mumsy."

"That's for my trip," Dudley mumbled, suddenly recalling that he'd failed to inform his parents about the outing to Scotland. "I'm going… camping… with some friends tomorrow. Be gone a week or so."

"Camping?" Vernon asked with a contemptuous snort. "What's the use in that? Sitting around in the mud, bugs all about. What're you going all the way to Scotland for?"

Dudley shrugged, knowing that his parents didn't generally care that much about what he did. True to form, Vernon was soon distracted by something on the television and Petunia went back to her cooking.

A sudden staccato rapping on the front door jolted the Dursleys from their individual activities. "Who could be visiting just before dinner?" Petunia asked huffily. Dudley felt an odd premonition, however, and looking over into his father's accusatory stare, he knew his dad had the same notion. He and Vernon jostled out of their seats and moved toward the front door. Dudley tried to speed up to get there first, but Vernon matched his pace. Dudley hustled a bit more but Vernon broke out into a house-shuddering sprint and reached the door first. He beamed triumphantly at Dudley as he flung the door open, revealing a small man in robes with a pointy hat.

"Aha!" Vernon shouted, "I knew it would be one of your type. Go away! You won't be corrupting my son with your nasty, freakish ways!"

Dudley felt the anger beginning to rise inside him. He clenched his fists tightly and pushed roughly past his startled father, inserting himself between Vernon and their guest. "Excuse me, sir," he mumbled quietly to Mr. Lovegood, struggling not to reveal his rage in his voice, "could you give us a moment?" Mr. Lovegood raised an eyebrow at the scene unfolding before him, but then shrugged and stepped back.

Turning, Dudley saw the anger in his heart reflected on his father's face. The vein on the side of his head pulsed as his forehead glowed redder and redder. It was a horrid sight and it defused some of Dudley's own emotion. Was this what he looked like to other people? Was this who he was becoming? Who he already was?

"Dad." Using every control technique he had taught himself over the last few years, Dudley restrained his fury and controlled his tone. "Dad, I know what you think of 'his type' but it's important to me that you be nice to him."

"What is this about!" Vernon exploded. "Be nice to him??!! To one of them??"

Dudley counted to ten slowly, looking over his father's shoulder at his mother for support. "Mum, please," he pleaded.

Confusion washed across Petunia's face and demeanor. Dudley could see the struggle taking place in her head between her love for him and her hatred of anything to do with magic and wizards. "But Duddy, why is one them here? Why do you want anything to do with him?" she whined at him.

Taking a deep breath, Dudley stood straight and looked both his parents directly in their eyes. "He's my girlfriend's dad, and I want you to be nice to him," he declared proudly.

"WHAT!!!!!!" Vernon's red rage shifted to purple and the vein on his head seemed about to explode. "YOUR GIRLFRIEND!?!"

Petunia simply stared in shock at her son, unable or unwilling to react to this pronouncement. Vernon placed his hands roughly on Dudley's shoulders and leaned down into his face. As he spoke, flecks of spittle found their way past his brushy moustache and onto Dudley's nose.

"No son of mine, no Dursley, will ever… EVER… date one of them. Dursleys are normal, good-standing people. No son of mine will associate himself with a filthy, disgusting, freakish whore of a witch!"

Two things happened at that moment. None present would ever know exactly how it all happened. Though she would never tell the tale to another living soul, if she had, she would have noted that she had heard these noises even as she was overwhelmed in a cloud of dust and smoke: a fleshy thud, a sharp crack, and a loud bang.

When the dust settled, she had noticed three things:

Dudley breathing heavily, his fists clenched before him bruised and bloody;

Her front door, completely gone, replaced by a pile of splintered wood and glass;

Vernon, lying on his back all the way down the hallway, unconscious, with a large bruise forming on his jaw and his clothes smoking gently.

The wizarding-looking fellow had then stepped across the threshold and gently guided her son by his shoulders out of her house. Meeting her teary-eyed gaze, he'd mumbled, "Potter told me what to expect, but I'd never have believed it. Your husband will recover, madam, and you may inform him when he does, that if he ever speaks that way of my daughter again…"

She waited a moment, but he never completed his threat. She stood mutely as her only son waved sheepishly at her and accompanied the odd man to his automobile down by the curb. Just then, a sudden thought shook her out of her catatonia.

"Wait!" she cried out, dashing back to the kitchen, careful not to tread on her husband's supine form. Grabbing the bag of fruit off the counter, she hurried back to the front lawn and presented it to her son.

"Thanks, Mum," he said quietly, taking it from her. "I'll see you," he added, meeting her gaze.

She nodded silently and then reached out to tousle his hair. He and the wizard got into the car and drove off together. Petunia watched them depart, ignoring the stares of her neighbors who had poked their heads outside to see what all the fuss was about. Finally, she turned and went back inside.