"Don't call me Potter," Harry said.
"Going to tell Severus and get me in trouble?" Draco sniped.
"No." Harry yawned, then, and reaching out, took his nightly sip of Dreamless Sleep. "Good night."
He was almost asleep before he heard Draco answering, "Yes. Good night."
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It was a couple of hours past lunch the next day when the door parchment suddenly read, Albus Dumbledore and pet. Draco choked back a laugh. "Harry. I don't think reciprocal magic takes care of everything. Come look at this."
Harry was less than amused. "Pet?" he exclaimed. "That's rude."
"Well, it's not my fault!" Draco said, still laughing. "The scroll's not spelled to interpret anyone but wizards, that's all. Well then, shall I do the honors?"
The door swung open to reveal the headmaster in robes that were, for him, extremely subdued. That wasn't the biggest shock, however. Dudley stood there in robes himself. Student robes, embroidered with a Hufflepuff crest. His face was even thinner than it had been last time, and it looked nervous.
He wasn't the only one who felt that way. Harry was all but squirming with worry over which persona Draco was about to adopt: normal student, aristocratic pureblood snob, or a sneering parody of courtesy.
The headmaster didn't give Draco time to be much of anything, though, at least not right at first. The moment the door opened, he stepped straight in without being invited and said, "So, here we are then, arrived safe and sound. You know Harry, of course, and the other boy is Draco Malfoy. I'm sure you'll meet Professor Snape later. These are his rooms, but he's been kind enough to share with a couple of boys in need."
"Uh, hallo there," Dudley said, looking warily at Draco. Well, no great wonder there. Even when he wasn't particularly trying, Draco all but oozed an aura of wealth and privilege. Harry managed to deal with it by telling himself that Draco wasn't the only one with a vault stuffed full of gold. Dudley couldn't tell himself that.
"Hello," Draco serenely replied. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't sneering, either. That had to be worth something.
Dudley held out his hand, and Draco stared at it like he wasn't at all sure he was prepared to touch a Muggle, of all things. With both Harry and the headmaster expectantly looking on, though, he did do it.
"So," Harry invited, relieved that Draco hadn't proceeded to wipe his hand on his shirt, or something, "Have a seat, Dudley, Headmaster."
Dudley moved to sit on the couch, Draco wincing slightly as it lurched under the great weight. The headmaster, however, was shaking his head. "I have other matters to attend to," he explained, peering over his half-moon spectacles. "And I imagine you and your cousin have a fair bit of talking to do."
"Oh, okay," Harry agreed, walking him back to the door. It wasn't far, certainly not far enough for him to figure out what to say and how to word it. "Uh, Headmaster?"
"Yes, Harry." The door open already, one hand on it, Albus simply waited.
"Um, I said some awful things to you and I wanted to apologize," Harry whispered. "I just..." He glanced over toward Dudley, aware it wouldn't be considerate to say too much about it. "It's hard, knowing you were aware of... certain things, and didn't help me."
Albus slowly shook his head, his ancient beard swaying. "Harry, the thing I was most aware of, every day, was that in that house you were alive. I wanted you to remain so. It was the best help I knew how to give."
"I know," Harry sighed. "Well, thanks for meeting Dudley in Hogsmeade."
A gentle smile. "You are most welcome." He spelled the door to shut itself behind him as he left.
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When Harry turned back into the room, he saw that Draco had sunk into a chair as well. He still wore an expression Harry was coming to recognize as careful, controlled neutrality. He wasn't letting on what he thought to be sitting there with a Muggle.
Probably just as well, Harry decided as he took his own seat. "So, it's good to see you, Dudley," Harry began. Really, he felt incredibly awkward, and not just because Draco was sitting there watching the scene unfold. He'd never had any sort of relationship with Dudley, and a couple of phone conversations didn't really make for one, but there was nothing for it but to plunge right ahead. "Um, why don't you relax, take off your robe? Draco and I don't usually dress formally down here, although Professor Snape tends to."
When Dudley stood up and set the robe aside, Harry couldn't help himself. He stared at his cousin in shock. "Wow, Dudley, that's incredible. You have lost so much more weight! Good for you!"
Draco made a noise that started as an astonished guffaw, but rapidly transformed itself into a coughing fit. "Sorry," he said, the word half-strangled as Harry glared. It was perfectly clear to him what that was all about. Despite all the weight he'd lost, Dudley was still grossly fat; Draco was having a hard time believing the boy had been even more spherical before. "Er, think I need a drink," Draco said, still trying to cover his gaffe. "What would you like, ah... Dudley?"
Dudley had blushed, and Harry didn't know if he was embarrassed by Harry's own comment or if he'd understood Draco's little display. Probably the former, Harry told himself. Dudley never had been one to pick up on subtle insults, when his own family was so appallingly blunt with words. "Diet Coke," he quietly answered.
Draco looked to Harry for help.
"Um, I'm not sure we have any of that here," Harry admitted. "The house-el... um, the servants here can get you pretty much anything natural you want, but they might not know so much about Muggle products."
"Oh, okay," Dudley said, thinking that over. "Water with lime."
"Harry?" Draco prompted.
"Uh, the same, I guess," Harry said. What he wanted was a butterbeer, but he didn't think it would be very polite to drink one when Dudley was only having water.
Draco rose and strode toward the hearth, his hand reaching up toward the bowl of Floo powder on the mantle. "Wait," Harry called, and leaning forward, said, "We tend to do magic all the time down here. Is that going to bother you?"
Dudley shook his head. "Mrs. Figg and I talked about it. Do you know she grew up in a m- m- magic family but without any herself? And then that nice Mr. Lupin who came to hospital with you, he spoke with me, too. Plus Marsha. I think... well, it might be nice to find out more about what you're really like, Harry. So it's okay."
"Are you sure?" Harry pressed. "A lot of things will seem really strange to you--"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Draco broke in. "Are you going to make me stand here all day dropping Floo powder on Severus' hearth rug? He said it's fine! Besides, he survived the walk down, didn't he? How many ghosts do you think he saw?"
"Ghosts?" Dudley gasped, his eyes going wide with alarm.
"Gee, thanks, Draco," Harry drawled. "Yeah, we have ghosts, but they don't hurt you or anything."
"Unless you count being bored to death by them endlessly telling the same stories," Draco mocked. Without further ado, he tossed in the Floo powder and called for the kitchens. Dudley reared back into the cushions when a house-elf's face popped out of the flames and asked how it might be of service. "Two waters with lime and a butterbeer," he ordered. "No ice."
Not ten seconds later, a wooden tray inlaid with ebony triangles popped into existence on the low table between them.
Dudley sucked a whistling breath in through his teeth, and shook his head sort of frantically when Harry tried to hand him his drink. "Uh, no. Not so thirsty anymore."
"Dudley, it's just water. It won't hurt you."