Almost
By dragongirlG
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Dudley grunted. "Fine," he said, looking around for boxes of sweets. There were none, and he frowned disappointedly.
"Go get that boy down here," said Vernon. "With all we do for him, he could at least help and load the food."
Dudley nodded obediently. He shuffled up the stairs and knocked on the door.
"What?" Harry asked.
Dudley opened the door and looked at him. "Dad says you have to help load groceries."
Harry looked annoyed. He was sitting at his desk writing something with an eagle-feather quill. Sighing, he dropped the quill into a vial of dark liquid and got up. "Why can't you do it?" he asked. "You have nothing to do."
"Er..." Dudley paused and thought. This had never occurred to him before. Harry had always been the one who had done the dirty work and chores in the house.
"Never mind," Harry frowned. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, then ran down the stairs to the kitchen. Dudley stood there and peered inside the room. It was the same as his last visit. Cautiously he went over to the desk and read the parchment.
Ron,
Dumbledore says I can't stay with you until the last two weeks of summer. Apparently there are protection spells on the house, and I'm safer here than at the Burrow. There's not much to say. I really miss Quidditch, but of course I can't play it around here. I've used the Broomstick Servicing Kit ten times already. The Dursleys are still on that diet of theirs, too. Help! I would ask Hermione, but she's going to send me sugar-free sweets and you know how those are. I'm not even going to try to ask Hagrid. Tell your mum I need food, now! Hope you're having a great summer—maybe try to call me again? The Dursleys are letting me do whatever I want now, and I think—I hope!—you know how to use a telephone this time. If you're unsure about any part, write me back before trying to call me.
Hope you're having a great summer, and I can't wait to see you again. Watch out for anything, and send me more news –
It cut off here.
The wheels of Dudley's small brain turned slowly. Quidditch? Isn't that what Harry went to see last year?
He heard Harry's quick footsteps on the stairs and hurriedly backed out of the room, turning around and coming face to face with his cousin.
"Er...hi," he said.
Harry looked at him as if he were a monkey and stepped into room, shutting the door abruptly. Dudley stared at the blank white door and felt something foreign inside of him: hurt.
He went into his room and looked at everything there: the newest computer on the market and his stash of computer games, the small television his parents had given him last summer, the huge casual clothes, and his Smeltings uniform and knobbed stick. The shelves along the wall were filled with broken toys he had destroyed when he was younger.
It was so boring, he realized. Toys, machines, clothes—they were all possessions, nothing compared to the friends Harry had. Harry's things were so interesting: moving pictures, a Broomstick Servicing Kit, and that strange cloak of his. Harry had friends, Harry had magic—Harry had life. He remembered the spark in his cousin's green eyes after he ran, the longing in the letter he had written, the gentle strokes along the white owl's wings. He felt a sudden yearning to be his cousin, and he wondered at this.
It used to be different, he wondered dimly. In the past, I got everything Harry wanted. But now he has everything I want.
Once again, he knocked on the door of his cousin's room.
"What?" Harry called.
Dudley opened the door again and looked inside. "Can I come in?" he asked hesitantly.
Harry looked at him with a doubtful expression. "Sure."
"Dudders!" Aunt Petunia was calling him. "Come down and watch the telly! I know you will love it!"
Dudley struggled down the stairs, and the door slammed behind him loudly.
The day passed. Harry stayed in his room except to go down to meals. Dudley suspected that he had received food and was hiding it somewhere, but there was nothing he could do about that.
His parents went to bed at ten o'clock, leaving him in front of the television. ' "Now don't stay up too late, Dudders," grunted his father. "We still want you growing and healthy." He slapped his son's back and thumped up the stairs.
Dudley turned off the television and listened carefully for the sound of his parents' door closing. His stomach growled loudly.
Harry had food.
He went to the base of the stairs and peered up. His parents' room was dark, and Dudley could already hear his father's loud snores already begin. Harry's room was dark as well. Dudley felt excitement growing inside of him. He's sleeping...if I find the food...take it...get away...he'll never know!
As quietly as he could, he began up the stairs. The stairs creaked slightly under his massive weight, and for the first time, he cursed the fat he carried. Need to get skinny like Harry. But then how would I beat people up?
He reached the door and opened it silently, mentally patting himself on the back. Now where would he hide it? In the dim light of the hallway, he could not see anything different about the trunk or desk. The cage that held the owl was still empty. Then he spotted the large space under the bed.
Under the bed! He crept silently to the bed, barely breathing. Almost there...there...
And what he saw stunned him.
Harry was crying. His eyes, exposed without glasses, were shut tightly, and long tears rolled down his face. His breathing was uneven as he tried to prevent himself from making a sound.
Dudley, horrified, stumbled back and hit the door with a loud bang.
Harry's gasp was loud in the silence. He groped for his wand, which was lying on the bedstand, sat up, and pointed it at Dudley. Dudley froze in fear as his cousin turned on the lamp.
"Dudley!" Harry whispered, hastily reaching for his glasses and wiping his face with the back of his hand. "What are you doing?"
"I was—I was—" he stuttered, staring in fear at Harry's wand, "I was looking for food." That was the truth. "I was—I was really hungry—and I thought—that I—smelled sweets from your room—" He halted as Harry slowly lowered his wand.
"Who are you, anyway?" Harry interrupted in a whisper, his eyes searching Dudley's face.
"Wh—what?" Why was Harry so suspicious? Was there something wrong with him?
Harry shook his head and gripped his wand. "I don't have anything, Dudley. Go to bed."
"But you—"
"What?"
Dudley didn't know what to say. "But you do have food," he answered timidly.
Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his head, frustrated. "I don't have any. Get it through your head."
Dudley shook his head. "I want to know what it's like to be a wizard," he said meekly.
Harry looked aggravated. "Why?"
"I'm just..." He paused, searching for the word. "I'm just...I'm just curious."
Harry made a rather strangled noise in the back of his throat. "No, Dudley."
"But I—" Dudley's frustration grew. "Please, I—"
"Dudley." Harry's voice was dangerously low. "Get out of my room."
"I..." he weakly protested.
"Out." Harry pointed his wand in the direction of the hallway. His bright green eyes were filled with anger. "Now."
Dudley began shuffling into the hallway slowly. He glanced at his cousin furtively and saw that Harry had dropped his wand and had his face in his hands.
"What's wrong?" Dudley whispered apprehensively.
Harry looked up, startled. "Nothing."
"There must be," Dudley insisted, his voice coming out in a fearful squeak. "Why are you crying?"
Harry sighed and turned away. "Go away, Dudley." His voice was muffled.
Dudley stayed there for a few minutes, staring at his cousin, then dragged himself to his room. Harry's door closed behind him quietly.
I was so close, Dudley pondered, for the first time in his life. Harry was going to tell me this afternoon...before Mum called me down.
The chance presented itself, and Dudley had almost held it in his hand. Yet it was missed.
So close!
He wished he could blame Harry, for he knew it was his fault. However, he couldn't find any anger to throw at his cousin. He realized, then, that it was his parents' fault. His parents, who never cared about Harry, who never dared to find out about Harry, about magic, about new and wonderful things.
So close!
And he himself had never tried to know. He had scorned Harry for his difference, for his lack of love, as he wallowed in his rich gifts. Harry, who had done so much...and received so little.
So close...so close....
Almost.
FIN
A/N: Please read and review, and thank you to all previous reviewers!
There is a sequel to this called "Ransom." It can be found here (delete the spaces):
http : // www. fanfiction. net / read. php? storyid=1303455