It's A Small World

by Aeyliana

As if Harry needed another surprise from Fate. As it turns out, his cousin, Dudley, has an unsurprising entrance to the magical world aside from Harry. No one could expect that it came from his fiancee... who also happens to be the cousin to Hermione Granger. Maybe the happy coincidence can make two stubborn people see the obvious.

6. As Night Falls

The last few minutes were an unrecognisable blur, a chaotic blend of madness, alcohol and desire. Harry couldn't mentally trace his steps, unable to comprehend how he came from raw emotional turmoil to the point he found himself presently. His thoughts were vapours, if that, reduced only to instinct and the forces of nature. His body did the talking for him as he found himself pinned against an oak tree by a very beautiful woman. Said woman had loosened his tie and undone his shirt collar, leaving the evening breeze to cool his sweaty skin. The certain witch had also spread his legs, her knee pushed against one of his legs to hold him in place as her lips danced across his.

Hermione.

Her lips diligently claimed his own, working with a tenacity that he should have really expected from her. Hermione never did things in half-measures. Why should snogging the literal breath out of him be any different? What he couldn't understand was how she managed to move him from the point over by the trees where they had been to where she currently had him. Did she drag him over? Did he put himself there? He'd been so lost in her kiss, he disconnected from pretty much everything else.

Her kiss had obliterated him. Its force was akin to the surge of electricity that could stop a heart - or restart it. The urgency of her desire had her seizing him by his arse, clutching tightly as she ran her tongue over his, not hesitating to go for a full-blown kiss. He soon found himself lost in her hold, the intimacy setting his blood aflame as the visceral sounds of their wet mouths played a different love song to the one they had just danced to. The dance of their tongues lacked the grace of a waltz but was no less in sync.

His hand had pushed up to cup her at the back of the neck, fingers lodged in her hair where he ran his fingers over her scalp. Small touches had the power to cause soft moans and gasps that were hot and needy in his mouth. They set his pulse racing, the blood already having made its evitable journey to his prick where it was straining against his tailored trousers. Desire and want chased each other through him.

All the things he wanted to do constantly flickered in the forefront of his mind. He wanted to unzip that dress, unclasp that bra and then kiss every part of Hermione he could reach. His second brain wanted to do much more, but he had to battle against his urgent need to relieve the strain in his boxers. Hermione had him so ruthlessly pinned against a tree, he suspected she didn't know what turmoil she'd trapped him within. From the firmness of the pressure of her knee against his leg, she very much didn't want him going anywhere. He'd have to apparate spontaneously from the spot to escape.

He definitely was not escaping. Hermione's passion was electrifying, but lacked the finesse of experience. She could kiss him well enough, but she didn't venture further. Harry started to pull enough of himself together.

He huffed out in her mouth as he brought his hands up to her waist. Slowly, he brought one hand up to her back to support her, knowing all too well that what he would do next would require it. Harry knew that Ron was a hopeless lover from having to give his mate instructions on how to pleasure a woman, even going as far as giving him drawings. The wizarding world was very far behind with sex education. Harry knew more about female anatomy when he was eleven than Ron did when he was sixteen.

Harry's other hand ventured south and, as it did, he lowered his mouth from Hermione's. She made a sound as if to question him until he kissed her neck and she moaned. Smiling into his kiss, Harry continued his path, inhaling the sweet scent that blessed him. Hermione smelled so familiar yet there was a sweetness that made his mouth water. He kissed her skin down to her collar bones, breathing deep where the warmth of her skin was strongest. Hermione had stilled completely at his attention and he knew she'd not stay still for very long. The hand that was at the hem of her skirt skittered up her thigh. Hermione gasped, surprised. Her eyes went wide.

"Harry…"

"Tell me to stop and I'll stop," he said, utterly serious as he brought his mouth away from her gorgeous neck. It was getting increasingly dark where they were secluded, but he could make enough of her out in the gloom. He could see her eyes catching the errant reflections.

"No… don't stop," she breathed out, then she rather savagely swung her head for his neck. Her lips latched onto his skin, the harsh lovebite making his dick twitch. Harry groaned, very much struggling with the need to be inside her.

"Fucking hell, Hermione. Where did that come from?" Harry gasped out, even though his fingers were inches away from exploring her. Her hand then pressed against his shoulder, pinning him just as much as her leg. Harry laughed then. "See… this is where me and Ron differ quite dramatically. He doesn't like it when you boss him around, but I have a secret to tell you." He leaned towards her ear. "I really like it."

Harry brought his fingers up towards a spot that was hot and damp. As he touched the top of Hermione's thigh, she near-whimpered as she kissed his neck. He brushed his fingers over the sheer cloth of her knickers, smiling to himself as he felt the lace and silk. She'd put effort into all of her outfit. There was a noticeable slick as he brought his fingers south.

"Harry!" Hermione immediately burst out as he touched her. He stilled, freezing. Pulling his head back, he looked at her.

"I will stop if-."

"Don't stop," Hermione cut over him. Thrilled at the open want in her eyes, Harry did as requested. He rubbed her over the cloth of her panties, making her thighs twitch with desire.

"Kiss me," Harry breathed at her. Hermione turned her heated gaze upwards and within a second, her lips were against his. Harry arched his back at the ferocity of her kiss, the thrill pulsing through him as if her magic was powering into his blood vessels and nerves. As she sucked at his bottom lip, Harry moaned before pushing his fingers past the barrier of her silken pants. They were in a tangle, the air spiced with the salty aroma of abandon.

Just as Harry's fingers made it to Hermione's clitoris, footfalls crunched in their vicinity. Hardened veterans as they were, both of them responded immediately. Hermione stepped back from Harry, freeing him. His hands dropped from her, snapping up to draw his wand. Hermione clutched uselessly at her arms and hips. Her wand was in the venue, hidden in her handbag.

Trudging through the thicket came a throng of young men, chuckling and staggering as they spotted them. Harry knew immediately what was going on and seethed. He stowed his wand back up his sleeves, secure in the holster concealed there.

"You cannot be fucking serious right now," he growled under his breath.

What sort of game was Fate playing with them? They had finally broken through their joint mental blockage, exploring each other's mouths with such a frenzy, it was like they were possessed. Just when their passions were about to take them to the point of no return, they had to be interrupted. Not just by anyone, either. Stumbling into the darkened clearing came Piers Polkiss, Malcolm Turner and Gordon Harris. The only one missing from Dudley's gang was the ring-leader himself.

"Would you both take a lookie here?" Piers drawled out as he led the way, brandishing a half-full pint of lager as he headed towards them. "Potty's getting all frisky in the bushes… or is it just the one bush?"

Malcolm guffawed with just as much gusto as he used to when they were all boys, though it appeared their humour had matured. Harry immediately tensed up, sensing at once that they had hunted him down for the same purposes as they used to at their primary school. Gordon then appeared to notice Hermione, wolf-whistling as he did, stumbling past Piers.

"Alright there love? Want to spend tonight with a real man ?"

The whiskey and the passions weren't a good combination for staying level-headed. Harry squared his shoulders, rolling his neck in a threatening way as he took a step towards his old bullies.

"I think that pathetic little worm in your trousers rather rules you out for that task, Gordon."

Malcolm laughed, slapping his thigh. Gordon wheeled around, thunderous. Malcolm sniffled, wiping at his face.

"What?" He questioned Gordon. "It was pretty funny."

"Yeah, and now you've had your laugh so clear off," Harry warned, painfully aware that his 'worm' was engorged and, as a result, not much blood was lending his brain the oxygen he needed for reason.

"Awwww but it's been so long since we've had fun together, isn't that right, lads?" Piers drawled as he lumbered closer to Harry. "I bet Gorgeous over there wouldn't look twice at you if you knew what a little freak you were when we were boys."

Malcolm's smile started to wane as he looked over to Piers. "Hey, Piers… is that a good idea?"

Piers ignored him, chuckling as he looked up at Harry's stormy countenance, not sensing the danger he was putting him in.

"Bet she doesn't know about your mental problem. I remember when you were shipped off to that centre. We all knew you were all messed up in the head… but it still didn't do you any good. Guess the brain damage you got when your parents were bonked off was permanent."

Old pain swept Harry nearly off his feet, it took him so off-guard. He never thought that Piers would actually stoop as low as to taunt him about his parents. Dudley did it often when they were at school together, but for Piers to dare to say it to his face while they were adults.

And in front of Hermione too.

The insult disarmed him, leaving him to stare at Piers's shrew-like face with the abysmal attempt at facial hair growing in scrawny patches on his chin like bum fluff. Before he could react, he heard a sound a bit like a whistle. He only realised that it was the sound of a fist swinging through the air until there was an almighty thwack!

Hermione powered her fist square in that ratty face. As she did, she let out a wild cry, sounding almost feral as she staggered with the force of her strike. Piers was sent flying back into Gordon, then lost his balance and landed hard on the ground.

"How DARE you say that to him!" Hermione screamed, her voice shattering the calm of the evening like a brick through a window. She charged at him again, only Harry finally managed to catch up, overcoming the shock from what he had just witnessed. He stepped forwards, grasping Hermione by the elbow and pulling her back.

Meanwhile, Malcolm was wheezing with laughter, his face bright pink.

"You just got twatted by a girl !"

"Oh fuck… fuck! You… bleeding cunt!" Piers yelled in his weedy voice on the floor, clutching at his face. His beer was on the floor, soaking the dirt.

Boiling hot rage then erupted through Harry with the violence of a volcano. He released Hermione, pushing past her. A snarl drew back his upper lip. He seized Piers by the lapels of his green jacket and lifted him off the ground with ease.

"If you so much as even look at Hermione, much less speak to her, I'll end you. I should beat the ever-loving shit out of you for ruining our moment. Do you have any idea how many years we've waited? HUH?"

Harry didn't care that he sounded just as deranged as Piers believed him to be. He was incensed to the levels where he could actually be capable of murdering three muggles without breaking a sweat. He shook Piers violently, fell a stab of satisfaction at the bone-deep fear in Piers's eyes.

"Harry… calm down," Gordon then appeared to grasp that the situation had turned from amusing to very serious. Harry shoved Piers at Gordon.

"Here, take away your trash," Harry spat at him. Malcolm stumbled over to help them flee from the violent couple that they'd ambushed for fun. He dropped his beer glass with a hollow thud on the floor.

"And you… " Hermione then rounded on Piers before he could escape her ire, not yet done with him, "before you go and run your mouth about us to the Dursleys, know that I'll also end you once Harry is done with you."

"Th-that doesn't make any sense," Piers stammered. Hermione stamped her foot.

"Does it look like I care?" She demanded. "I'll do it because I've known Harry since we were eleven. He wasn't shipped off to some correctional centre. If you even had a brain cell between you, you would have worked that out. The school that the Dursleys made up doesn't even exist. "

Harry's rage had turned swiftly into an altogether different emotion as he watched Hermione fume. The look of fear on Piers' face was very reminiscent of how a certain Draco Malfoy looked when Hermione slapped him across the face for insulting Hagrid.

"He went to school with me, the same school that his parents attended. He's my best friend, the most important person in my life, and I'll do anything for him. We were just about to have extremely spontaneous sex until you idiots thought looking for a fight was a smart move during your best mate's wedding. So go tell Dudley, if you dare, go tell him that you were trying to rough up his cousin on his special day… in front of his wife's cousin!"

"Come on… let's get out of here!" Malcolm wrenched Piers's arm to support him and help him stand.

"Oh look, it appears we know which one of you has the brain cell you're all sharing," Hermione said scathingly at Malcolm. "Now kindly get out of our sight!"

The three idiots scrambled off, Gordon and Malcolm managing to half-carry a dazed Piers between them. Harry wasn't watching them. His eyes were glued on Hermione, his dick fighting a desperate battle with his trousers as he strained against them. He'd never been more turned on in his entire life. He wasn't sure how he was even able to stand as he gaped at Hermione, jaw feeling as it was about to detach itself and drop to the floor. Hermione's magic was an erratic swirl, a miasma of power that only he could sense and feel. The thrill of her display had his blood feeling like it was boiling in his veins.

Hermione then suddenly gasped hoarsely, slapping her hands up to her mouth.

"Oh my God, I just punched the Best Man!"

"Yeah, you did," Harry said breathlessly, moving slowly towards Hermione. She stared at the vacant spot where Piers had been.

"I told them about us…"

"Yep," Harry moved in front of her, placing himself in the centre of her attention. "You defended me against my bullies."

His hand found hers, the one responsible for the best right hook he'd ever seen. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, feeling the heat coming off from what he expected was a throbbing hand. He lifted her hand up to his face once again, copying what he did on the dance floor, and he kissed her blessed knuckles.

"Thank you, my love," he breathed out over her skin. "Now, what was it you said about 'spontaneous sex'?"

The smile that stretched across Hermione's face was delicious, encouraging the embers of his smouldering desire to catch light and burn with renewed ferocity. Her hand escaped his hold, grasping his tie. Hermione paced backwards, leading him back towards their tree, her hips swaying evocatively as she did. Her teeth brushed over her lip, eyes darkened as she looked down at his gaping open shirt.

"How are you still in the mood after all that?" She asked him once her back found the solid trunk. Harry laughed huskily, feeling more and more light-headed.

"I have no idea, but… but fuck, I want you so badly, Hermione Granger."

In response, she yanked him towards her with the same festy impatience she'd been handling him with ever since he swept her around the dance floor. He fell against her, his head landing strategically against her breast where his hands eagerly climbed up her waist to cup them with unleashed desire. He grinded his hips against hers, forcing a sigh out of her as his lips pressed hard against the clammy skin above her clavicle. Her legs parted for him, knees bending and losing their strength. He felt her swooning and his hands were quick to catch her, holding her slender frame against the tree with much more care and reverence.

"Un-undo my belt… I… I've got you," Harry managed to get the words out, the strain of his arousal building dangerously intense. He was entering into a new fight now that his bullies had fled, once against himself as he resisted the release. Hermione immediately abandoned his tie, her fingers desperately tugging at his belt buckle. Her breathing was loud in his ear as she worked hard to set him free.

"We better get you out of these before you soil your expensive threads," Hermione whispered as she yanked down his flies after undoing his trousers. Harry laughed against her neck as he shifted his hold, moving his hands to her hips, all the way past her rear. His belt buckle rattled as he shifted his legs to dislodge his trousers from around his hips. They slid down, belt, trousers and wallet landing on the dirt with a thud.

"H-have you done this… before?" Harry asked as her fingers tugged at the waistband of his boxers. When she touched his length, he bucked against her, losing control momentarily. "Ah… I mean, vertically… against something?"

"No… I… I've not done it with anyone other than Ron and only ever in bed," Hermione said before dropping his pants down with his trousers. Her breathing slowed as she looked down at his exposed dick and balls. "Oh… y-you're quite big. Bigger than Ron."

Harry laughed, resting his head down on her bosom again, breathing in the hot spice of their combined arousal.

"Yeah… I know… and I also know what to do with it."

"No 'pathetic little worm', that's for sure," Hermione said, laughing, "but how do I know if you're all talk and no trousers?"

He ran his hand down her skirt, lifting it up again. He didn't take his time, grasping at the silk and pulling it down over Hermione's hips. The sheer cloth dropped down. Hermione's breathing returned to a ragged pace as she stepped out of them. Harry ran his teeth over her collarbone, kissing the soft skin.

"Bring your legs around me and find out…"

Pressing her back against the tree, Harry groaned as he raised her up, taking her weight. Her legs wrapped around him, spreading wide, pressing their hips together.

"A-are you sure about this?" Harry gasped out, leaning back just a little to prepare for his thrust.

"Yes… yes… please, Harry… I need you. I need you…"

Going in, his tip brushed over her. Harry shuddered as the contact sent sparks of pleasure through him with the sharpest intensity he'd ever felt when with a woman.

"Oh… oh… I may need you to guide me in."

Her hand reached around his girth, forcing him to bite on his lip. She then brought him up, parting herself for him, granting entrance. Harry gasped out, his face starting to strain with the effort of holding his orgasm back. Hermione's hot mouth returned to his neck, sucking at his skin, her tongue and teeth working together as he then went in for the thrust. As he pushed, his vision throbbed as the pleasure sent his heart pounding. Her warm, wet walls enveloped him, turning his breath hoarse.

"Oh my fucking God, you feel so good…" Harry wheezed out, "you set my blood on fire."

Hermione's hands clenched over his buttocks as her thighs tightened around him. Harry gripped her tightly, his arms able to take her weight and lift her higher. They both moaned together as they moved, Hermione's legs squeezing him tightly.

The tree creaked as Harry pushed her up again. He pressed in closer, driving himself deep into her. The frenzy then unravelled as he pushed again and again, thrusting in and huffing out with each effort. Sweat was slick on his face, but he didn't care. Spikes of pleasure shot up through him with every single nerve that flared with the incredible press of Hermione's muscles, clenching and unclenching around him, her rhythm starting to match his. Hermione's hands clutched his waist as she worked with him, their breathing hoarse and loud as they panted with each thrust. Moans joined the pants, growing louder. Hermione's face screwed up with a sudden grimace as she let out a rattling groan that Harry felt tremble through her whole body.

"I'm close, Harry… I'm so close," she gasped hoarsely at him, "take me there… harder…"

Harder?

Harry didn't need telling twice. His arms burning with the effort, he shoved her against the bark of the tree. Hermione's cry pulsed out of her as he drove himself into a wild frenzy. His magic started to form sparks, the small pops of light growing more and more frequent as he brought them towards their climax. Hermione threw her head back, the movement dislodging the fascinator in her hair. Curls tumbled loose, falling over her sweaty face. Harry looked up at her in the dwindling light.

Nothing had appeared more beautiful to him than in that moment.

With one final thrust, Harry set off her orgasm with a shuddering seismic throb of magic. It didn't come from him. It enveloped him as her magic washed over him in a sizzling hot flash of pleasure. As she let out another cry, lower and more intense, Harry joined her with a loud grunt as he released his load. His arms shook with the force of the orgasm, dropping his head down to Hermione's shoulder as he dropped heavily against her. Her legs fell from his sides, supporting her own weight as he pulled out of her, slick and dripping.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked him softly as he fought to get his breath back. Harry couldn't speak, his ability to make coherent sounds temporarily gone as he recovered from the most earth-shattering orgasm he'd ever experienced. Gentle hands touched his face, guiding his head upwards. He found her wide eyes, studying his face with intense focus. He nodded, breathing heavily.

"Can I use your wand?" Hermione requested. In response, Harry nodded weakly again. Hermione fiddled with his left sleeve, reaching for his wand holster. She drew his wand out, bringing it up under her skirt where she went to silently remove the evidence of their love-making from between her thighs. She then lightly touched his softening penis, doing the same to him. Her spell tingled over his highly sensitive skin, leaving him clean and dry. The wonders of magic.

"Ev-even without Piers and the others walking in on us, I think it's going to be pretty obvious what we've been up to," Harry said once he clawed enough of his faculties back to realise what they'd just done together. Guilt twinged through him then as reason started to reform once his arousal began to leave him.

"Considering the effort Monica went to with pairing us together, I don't think that matters all that much," Hermione said with a surprising air of nonchalance as if he hadn't just fucked her against an oak tree in the middle of a golf course. Harry stared at her, bewildered at her uncharacteristic calmness.

"Er… Hermione, what about your mum and dad?"

Hermione giggled, stunning him further. Had he accidentally shagged her brains out?

"Harry, you do realise that my mum has been nagging me about you for ages. She's the one who told me to stop thinking and just… take a risk where you're concerned."

"Oh, right… wait, what?" Harry blinked, still slow and befuddled. "You mum wanted you to have sex with me?"

"Well, I don't think she expected things to quite go this far, but… look, you don't have to worry about them. I'm an adult woman who has a Government job, for Heaven's sake. They trust me to be responsible and… before you worry… I never stopped being on contraception so you don't have to worry about having an unexpected love child."

Harry gaped at her. In response, she just beamed at him, draping her arm around his shoulders.

"Besides, it's not as if I'm being a hussy and dragging any old sod into the hedges to have my way with them," she pointed out. "We may need to explain to Monica and Dudley why we suddenly had the ability to dance in sync with each other, but…"

Hermione suddenly dropped her arm from him, going still where she leaned against the tree, still holding his wand.

"You don't regret it, do you?" She then asked him tentatively.

"No, no! Blimey, Hermione… if I cast a patronus right now, it would probably be seen from Outer Space - though the effort would probably knock me unconscious - I… I absolutely do not regret a single second of anything that happened today. This… this was incredible. You are incredible."

As the words tumbled out of him, he knew he meant every single one. His heart had never felt so light and unburdened, the intimate thrill of their sex together making feel more alive than he'd ever felt before. He shuffled back up to her, not caring that he was naked from the waist down. His cares and worries had fluttered away like conjured butterflies. He felt set free, transcendent, the euphoria giddy as his smile grew and grew. Hermione's matching smile had him drawn towards her lips and he kissed her. His hand slapped down on the tree beside her head as he passionately savoured the touch of her lips and the taste of her. He didn't want it to stop, addicted to her now that he'd had that sip from the forbidden chalice. Only it wasn't forbidden, not anymore.

When he drew back, Hermione sighed as they parted. She gazed up at him, her lips glistening. Then her smile turned mischievous and her eyes dipped down to where he was completely exposed between them.

"And you, Harry Potter, aren't so bad yourself."

---

Dudley Dursley may be as slow as a tortoise with a limp at the best of times, but he did eventually get there, if not with a bit of assistance. Give him enough clues and he'd work it out - glaringly obvious clues - but still, he had the mental capacity to deduce some things. Granted, it took him a while to figure out that his parents weren't very nice people and were doing a fine job of turning him into a cruel, spoiled bully. Even after Harry saved him from the demented whatsits and had his kooky pals ferry him and his parents off abroad, the cogs took their time in turning to realise that his cousin cared a lot more about them than they did about him.

The gears in his brain had been greased and oiled over the past few years. Actually using his brain instead of slacking off funnily enough made a big difference. Coming away from Smeltings with a handful of GCSEs left him with uncomfortable feelings of shame despite his mum and dad threatening to complain to the exam board for messing up his results. During the year where they were in hiding, he made the active choice to pull his finger out and study. Hestia and Dedulus were helpful in finding him materials to read - both for what he needed to know for his exams and also about Harry. By the time he was eighteen, he'd resit his GCSEs, felt absolutely dreadful about the way him and his parents treated Harry, and was ready to go to college and get his A levels. His parents were chuffed to bits with him for being such a grown up, completely missing how he'd only managed to achieve such things without them.

Slowly, yet gradually, Dudley started to make up his own mind about things. Reconnecting with Harry had been an exercise of painful self-reflection. He began to learn about his Aunt Lily, about the family that he'd never been allowed to know about. James and Lily had died for their only son… fought in a war, actually faced off against murderous bastards when they were not much older than he and Harry were. And what did Dudley's parents achieve? What did they do when they were given Harry to look after, newly orphaned?

So, give Dudley enough clues and he'll finally come to the right conclusion, rather than muddle himself and get lost on the way. Slowly but surely wins the race.

The first clue presented itself a good few months before the wedding. During his planned drinks with Harry where he invited him to the wedding, they touched on Harry's lack of luck in the love department. That was when the name Hermione came up. Dudley only latched upon the name because Monica laughed at him when he tried and failed to pronounce the name when they were going through their guest list for the wedding. Repeating the name of her cousin enough times was bound to lodge in his brain. It sat oddly with Dudley and he wasn't entirely sure why. He'd never met another Dudley before. Could it be possible for Harry's friend and Monica's cousin to end up as the same person? Harry did also say that his best friend's parents hadn't been magical.

He didn't think much more about her cousin, not until a month before the wedding when they were mapping out the seating plan for the reception. He'd listened to Monica's scheme to sit their cousins together in the hope that their marriage could spark some romance between the two single people. She appeared oddly invested in making sure Harry wasn't too isolated during the whole day, clearly having picked up on the family drama that was pretty impossible to conceal. She talked about Harry quite a bit, especially after they all had a meal together at Harry's house, and she saw with her own eyes that Harry wasn't anything as his parents made him out to be. Not only did he have an important job, he also owned his own cottage and had a dog.

Dudley hoped Harry wouldn't notice Monica's obvious match-making too much, though he begrudgingly knew that Harry would be distracted enough while dealing with his parents. Once more, however, the thought was pushed to the side as the stressful arrangements for the wedding occupied him.

The third clue presented itself before the ceremony on the very day. While he was trying his hardest not to vomit on his shiny shoes in his nerves, he then met Monnie's cousin for the first time. Or so he thought. She was very familiar and also very pretty. He made his way through her introduction, trying to engage his overtaxed gears to figure out why he recognised her. Surely it couldn't be because she really was Harry's best friend from his magical school?

Again, the third clue passed out of his thoughts as the wedding went underway. He had vows and kisses and rings and his wife to think about, not his cousin!

With the new Mrs Dursley on his arm and a huge smile plastered on his face, Harry and Hermione were far from his mind as the camera flashes burned in his eyes. He accepted the hard thumps on his back from his mates, stomached his mum's embarrassing snivelling and even managed to make it through one of Marge's bristly kisses without a hefty bribe. The rain couldn't even dampen his spirits as he hoped in the Rolls Royce with Monnie, eager to get to the reception (and the bar).

He was so swept up in his special day, having the absolute time of his life, that he almost forgot that all his guests were celebrating alongside a powerful wizard. He was particularly thrilled when he managed to get through the speeches. Monica's dad, Gerry, did upstage him a little, but he didn't care. The man had paid for the whole bar and the venue so he could take the stage all he liked. Piers fumbled his way through his speech, some jokes falling flat, but once it was over, it was over.

By some miracle, he didn't mess up the first dance either. Boxing had, after all, made him much lighter on his feet. He didn't attempt anything fancy, opting to spin Monnie under his arm a couple of times and dip her at the end. Her beaming, beautiful smile told him that he'd done enough romantic gestures. She appeared eager to dance with her family which was fine with him.

Two pints in, Dudley felt electric. He didn't even care when Monnie tracked him down at the bar and dragged him back to the dance floor, even if it was to another soppy song. Her arms were thrown around his neck, murmuring in his ear about looking forward to later when they were alone. It began a challenge to stay quite as light on his feet then when his mind was very much not focusing on the rhythm of the song, but the blood rushing down to his knob.

As the song started to build up in intensity, Monnie let out a shocked gasp. Jumping in alarm, assuming that she'd noticed his semi, he twisted to see why she was gaping like a fish. Behind them were a couple moving with precise, rehearsed steps, both talking animatedly, staring at each other. They didn't have eyes for anyone else, attention riveted on each other's faces. The man stood about three inches taller than the woman, who twirled gracefully when he let her out of his hold, ready to catch her in his hands. The other dancers then noticed the pair, stopping to watch as the oblivious couple continued to spin and dance, using the suddenly freed space without seemingly noticing.

Dudley felt his jaw drop and he, too, moved to watch, drawn to the side with Monnie holding his hand.

"I… how are they doing that?" Monnie asked, utterly stunned. "They've only just met!"

But Dudley knew then that they hadn't. The pair weren't strangers at all, brought together as guests at the same wedding. They weren't just the respective cousins to the bride and groom. From the way they had eyes only for each other, they were much more. Dudley began to smile.

"You sly, sly bastard," he murmured as he watched Harry bring Hermione in closer, holding her in a way that set off a lot of angry, jealous looks. Monica didn't hear him, not when the song ended and she clapped enthusiastically. She rushed towards the pair at once as they suddenly sprung apart, wearing matching looks of shock.

Their dance, it appeared, hadn't been planned at all, but then Harry moved back to Hermione, taking her hand lightly in his… and in the most sickly, sweet gesture, he kissed her hand. Dudley shoved into Harry. Rather than expose his well-kept secret, he slapped him on the back.

"You know how to dance ?"

But Harry didn't appear to hear him. He appeared shell-shocked for a moment until Hermione suddenly grasped hold of him and zipped him away with determination that reminded Dudley very strongly of his own wife - who called after them, astonished. The reason for their sudden escape was immediately clear when Dudley heard an all too-familiar shout.

"Get back here, boy!"

Dudley instantly turned on his heel, coming face-to-face with his dad's livid visage. He stood taller and stockier than his ailing father who already had one too many brandies. Standing in his dad's way, Dudley stopped him from charging off after Harry and causing the scene that they were all trying desperately to avoid.

"Stop it, dad," Dudley said warningly, grasping his dad's shoulders. Monica had thankfully gone off in pursuit, gossiping with her bridesmaids.

"How dare he prance about, putting his hands on the first girl to throw herself at him-."

"Actually, I thought it was very beautiful and your nephew was a gentleman to dance with my daughter."

Dudley and his dad's heads flicked over to the side. Dudley recognised Monica's aunt, the one who had come from Gloucester… and Hermione's mum.

"Do you know my cousin?" Dudley asked her, causing her eyes to light up with gleeful amusement. She nodded, sipping at her champagne.

"As a matter of fact, I do. It was a few years after he and my Hermione became friends at their school when I got to know him properly, but he's a wonderful young man."

Her eyes then gravitated over to his dad, her smile turning hard while her eyes lost their warmth.

"You see… My daughter and Harry went to the same school. You know, the one that only accepts very special students?"

Dudley could tell that the woman was having fun at his dad's expense, but he didn't really blame her. He brought his hand up to his face to hide his own smile at the look on his dad's face as he nearly staggered back, looking at the petite lady with a razor sharp smile.

"Y-you? You're one of them?"

Miranda Granger laughed loudly. "Heaven's no, but my daughter is, Mr Dursley. It is quite the coincidence, is it not? For Monica and Dudley to find companionship with each other while their cousins have been best friends… for years!"

Dudley felt dazed as she put it so bluntly. It seemed too coincidental. The chances of it… well, he'd never be able to work it out.

"Now… I believe I've wasted enough of your time to give Hermione a chance to whisk Harry away. Enjoy your evening." Miranda nodded her head to a very stumped Vernon Dursley. She then looked over to Dudley, her eyes softening. "And congratulations, Dudley. I expect we'll be seeing each other again."

Finishing her champagne with a gesture of finality, she left them at the edge of the dance floor. Dudley laughed, her audacity quite something. It took a strong willed person indeed to not be intimidated by his dad. He then turned to him, returning his hand on his shoulder.

"Well… I guess it really is a small world, right dad?"

Dudley didn't expect an answer, instead leaving him to stew in the revelation. He instead went off to find where his wife had gotten to. He didn't have to look far, finding her at the terrace. She squeaked when she saw him, rushing over.

"Is everything okay? I saw you and your dad talking with Aunt Miri. He… he isn't angry with Harry and Hermione, is he? I really thought it was so sweet how they danced together so if he's worried about them putting on a bit of a show-."

"He's fine. Everything's fine, sweetie," Dudley assured her, bringing his arm around her waist, "but there's something I need to tell you. In private… come on."

No one questioned where they were going as he led her away from the assorted groups. Most had headed inside, not risking the rain. Dudley did, however, notice his mum having a rather serious looking conversation with Mrs Polkiss. He dismissed it, just glad that his mum didn't see Harry dancing as well. She'd likely have fainted.

Once he took Monica out of clear view of the party, moving to where they were fairly sheltered behind the kitchens, he took her hands in his.

"I've had this funny feeling for some time, but I didn't know for sure until just now," Dudley began, gazing at her earnestly, "Harry and Hermione are… very close friends. From what I know, they've been best friends since they were in year seven."

"What?" Monnie stared at him, her eyes wide. "B-but how can that be? I thought Harry went to… you know…"

Dudley sighed, shaking his head. "Harry didn't go to St Brutus's. My dad made that all up so my Aunt didn't think he went to a better school than me. He went to… a boarding school up in Scotland, the same school as your cousin, Hermione. That's how they know each other."

"You… you're kidding?"

"No, I'm not. Her mum just confirmed it to my dad just now."

Monica's eyes were round as pennies as she processed the news. Dudley swallowed, nervous with every passing second. Only then, Monica's face split in a huge smile, her teeth dazzling white.

"But… but this is just absolutely perfect, Dud. It worked . Don't you see! Sitting them together… they realised that they like each other! I mean, you saw them dancing together. That wasn't two people having a friendly dance… and for Hermione to just run off with Harry to get some alone time…"

It was Dudley's turn again to be stumped.

"What?"

"I don't quite understand why everyone's been saying that Harry went off the rails and ended up in some secure centre if he was actually at a boarding school, but… well… I've gathered for some time that he's nothing like how he's been painted as. It's rather hard to not notice how your mum and dad are about Harry," she winced as she gave him a regretful look. "and my family have noticed as well. Making sure he wasn't in any of our photographs was rather obvious."

Dudley let go of her hand, his stomach sinking as he went to rub the back of his neck.

"We'll talk about it properly some other time. It's… a bit heavy for our wedding day, but… yeah, you're right. Mum and dad are… well… pretty nasty when it comes to Harry. That's why I've done what I can to make things up to him once I, you know, grew up. He's my cousin, my blood, and I'm all the family he has."

Dudley felt his eyes growing a little warm as he spoke, blinking a little as he looked away. Monica's hands enveloped his, soft and warm.

"I just hope… you had a good day today, even with my mum and dad being… well… them," he said thickly.

"Of course I've had a wonderful day, babe. Really… it's been magical, " she breathed out the dreaded word, making Dudley's heart skip in alarm. But then, he relaxed, pulling her towards him to bring her in for a kiss.

Monica soon had firm hold of his jacket as their kiss intensified. His back butted against a dustbin, nearly knocking it over. He didn't protest, not when her sudden frenzy had him breathless and mindless with joy. For her to still want to be his wife, still take the name 'Dursley', to not judge him and walk away, to never waver and always give support…

"I love you," Dudley murmured when they came up for air.

His proclamation earned him another hard, heady snog. His hands began to roam over her bodice and down her many skirts, but her hands snatched his large, calloused ones and brought them firmly to her waist.

" That, " she said firmly, "is for our wedding bed, husband."

While he was thoroughly distracted with his new wife, Dudley didn't bear witness to the shameful return of his Best Man. Piers shouldered his way through the party, manners and niceties dismissed since he'd recovered from the stunning blow he received from a certain Hermione Granger. Malcolm and Gordon trailed behind, uncertain and nervous. He also didn't get to watch as Mrs Polkiss nearly screamed at the sight of his swelling eye and chased her son, pelting him with hisses for getting into a fight while being the Best Man.

While Dudley enjoyed the company of his wife, in the presence of someone who could show him a healthy brand of love and not the stifling toxic sort he'd grown up with, Petunia Dursley sniffed in distaste as she inspected the buffet table. Upon her china plate and napkin, there was a single solitary vol-au-vent and a crisp leaf of gem lettuce. Her nose wrinkled as she looked over the cheese board before plucking one grape from the brunch. Alone, her hawk-like eyes scrutinised the gathering as she sucked her teeth in disgust at the too-short skirts and the overly enthusiastic dancing. As she looked sourly over to the bar, so graciously paid for by the bride's family, she caught sight of her husband perched up on one of the stools while he spoke with a mildly amused man with very curly, brown hair. She noticed, in dismay, that her husband was drunk.

"Sorry, do you mind if I just lean past you for a napkin?" A cheery yet polite voice distracted Petunia. She glanced over, finding a short woman in a nice dress that she'd been eyeing earlier, admiring the floral design over the cream fabric. Petunia's sharp memory for faces and names immediately identified the woman. She was Monica's aunt, sister to Gerry Baxter, the father-of-the-bride - Miranda Granger. Petunia had made a point to analyse all the names of the guests beforehand.

"Allow me," Petunia went to graciously fetch a napkin for the woman, passing it over. She smiled her thanks, revealing perfect teeth, before she went to help herself to the buffet.

"I didn't really get the chance to introduce myself," Miranda said in her cheery, smiling manner, selecting some cocktail sausages from the dish in front of her. "I'm Monica's aunt, Miranda."

"Oh, lovely to meet you," Petunia said distantly, "Petunia Dursley." Her introduction felt oddly flat while her husband did his best to drink the free bar dry. "I hope you're having a splendid evening."

"Very much so though unfortunately, we're going to have to leave soon. We came all the way from Gloucester and Richard doesn't drink so he was adamant about driving tonight. Richard's my husband… unless I'm mistaken, he's talking with your husband, by the bar?"

Petunia reluctantly glanced over to where Vernon was likely repeating the same Japanese golfer joke to another poor soul.

"Oh, I see. I'm glad you had a lovely time regardless of having to drive so far."

"It's been very enjoyable," Miranda said with her perfect smile, making Petunia grip her plate with envy. "I particularly enjoyed seeing my daughter having so much fun with your nephew."

Petunia's hands jerked involuntarily. Her lone grape rolled off the plate, making a sad journey down to the floor.

"My nephew?" Petunia repeated the word as if it could buy her some time to recover her composure. Miranda Granger still smiled as she took a step towards Petunia and, as she did, the grape popped under the sole of her shoe.

"He's quite the modest young man usually, so I was very taken by surprise to see him so confidently taking my Hermione for a spin on the dance floor earlier. You must, of course, know that he and my daughter are best friends. They met on the train to Hogwarts-."

Petunia dropped her plate.

"Oh… goodness, allow me," Miranda said as she stooped down, gathering the two items from the floor that had left the plate. She straightened. "If only Hermione or Harry was here, they'd be able to clean all this off in a wave of a wand. Unfortunately, I can't fix this up as neatly… but, yes, as I was saying, Harry is such a wonderful young man. You must be really proud of him. He's always so helpful when he visits - helps out in the kitchen and never lets us wait on him…"

Petunia slowly looked over to the woman, seeing her sharp smile and hard eyes. Her skin immediately crawled as she recognised that look. She knew it because she'd seen it in her own reflection at times. Hate. The woman talking to her, feigning politeness so effortlessly, despised her.

"Of course, I can't mention all the things he's achieved. Such a pain, isn't it? The Statute of Secrecy… but now you know someone who understands what it's like to keep these lips buttoned up, eh?" Miranda beamed, but her eyes were as hard as ice. "But this evening isn't about my daughter and your nephew! It's about your son and my niece… and what a lovely pair they make!"