Work Text:
“Hey.”
“Hello. Did you spill something I need to clean?”
Harry was sat down on the living room floor. He wasn’t allowed on the couch, but if he was quiet, he could sit nearby and watch the news. Uncle Vernon always left the telly running in the evenings.
“No,” Dudley said, his face scrunched up in a odd mixture of miserable and determined. He took a seat on the couch, looking down at Harry. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Why? You know you can’t be seen doing that.”
“I know. Dad is in the shower and Mum is talking to one of her friends on the phone. But I won’t talk to you ever again, so it should be fine.”
“…okay.”
“I mean it, too. I'm gonna be five years old on Sunday. Mum will put us in school soon.”
“I know. I’m sorry I can't get you a present. I’ve always wanted to, you know. Like when you sneak me a biscuit under my door.”
“That won’t happen again either.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s only some of your fault, I think. Dad was being mean again. I threw his glass of, uh, al-cho-hole on the floor when he didn’t talk to me. He shook his fist at me and his face went all red. I think he thought I was you.”
“I’m sorry, Dudley.”
“I don’t want to be like you, Freak. Or Dad might go and hit me too. Mum might try to stop him, but when he yells at her to shut up she does. I have to be a big kid.”
“I get it.”
“I don’t want to be hit. I don’t want to be told to be quiet all the time. I don’t want my toys taken, and I don’t want Dad to yell at Mum. I... I don’t want to sleep in a cupboard.”
“I understand. I also don't want to. I don't like it.”
“Yeah, I know. You cry. I can hear it sometimes.”
“…”
“…”
“My name’s Harry by the way. It's not Freak. We found out when the old cat lady babysat us in February, remember? Harry Potter.”
“I remember. It makes both of them angry when I call you by your name.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Freak.”
“I’m sorry too. I’ll miss you.”
“Don’t.”
“I’ll try.”