#* — 𝐝𝐮𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 ( feat. ginny weasley )

[rebuildeds]

prompt : ‘ hey stranger . you drool in your sleep . so cute . ’ featuring : @petriichvrs !

dudley's face is smushed into the sofa arm, and there is, in fact, drool dried on his chin. only one eye cracks open in response to ginny's voice, hand reaching blindly out to attempt to stop the noise from interrupting his headache. “ you're so creepy. a menace. ” he half-rolls over on the sofa, catching himself before he falls off, to look at them properly, neck craned.

[rebuildeds]

PROMPT : ❝ i’m not gonna let anything happen to you. ❞ SETTING : beaumont court ! ( featuring @petriichvrs )

he nods & it's serene, acceptance flooding through his face. dudley reaches out like it's instinct, like there's no one else in the room and there's no thought required, and squeezes ginny's hand. " i know. " he eyes the keg lined up for him, waiting for ginny & two unsuspecting strangers roped into the endeavour to lift dudley up and maintain his handstand once he's up. he shakes his limbs out, grabs a hold of the handles of the keg, and nods once more. " i'm ready. "

[rebuildeds]

location: ginny's flat featuring: @petriichvrs !

“ it's almost been three years. ” dudley has broken the quiet spell around them as they lie on the sofa, both busy occupying themselves with their own stuff. he'd been pretending to read a copy of a history of magic for the past half an hour, instead letting his thoughts ruminate. he doesn't want to dump this on ginny, but they had a support group meeting earlier in the day, and well. he's aware they're the one of the only people he feels comfortable talking about this shit with outside of that setting. “ since ... you know, petunia. ” he adds, in case she didn't remember. the familiar guilt that accompanies calling her by her name, rather than mum, sits on his chest, its presence an old friend. “ and. everything. ” though it's easiest to think of one traumatising event at a time, it all comes together like a package deal regardless.

[rebuildeds]

“ that must be it. ” the familiar face puts dudley at ease instantly, though it doesn't quite get rid of the problem at hand ( that being, the burn in his shoulders and the distinct feeling that the sockets might just ... pop out ). at least he knows he's not going to get screamed at. again. ginny's presence has at least given the dog something that requires being stationary to investigate, wet nose first. he grins as they make friends with each other, gently rolling out his shoulders and stretching his legs, trying to make sure he doesn't tug on the leash any which way. he'd learned that lesson already. he eyes the pastry & coffee that ginny has managed to acquire, wondering how cheeky it would be to ask if she can grab him one as well. “ if i don't collapse first. how do they have so much energy? ” 

"lust for life ?" she suggests, crouching down at a distance from argos and cautiously offering him the palm of her hand to sniff - while keeping her morning pastry and go cup of coffee held far away in the other, of course. he seems friendly enough. she's seen the way antigone babies him at a distance during memorial weekends and takes the way she's watched him drag dudley as another reason to be wary in case of a sudden, energetic lunge, but he cuts an angelic picture now he's been tugged to a stop. she smiles when he noses at her hand, sparing just a glance for his caretaker as she takes the hint and scratches at his ears, "putting those rugby muscles to use today, huh ?"

[rebuildeds]

the messy fist-bump is greeted by a confused grunt before the rest of his brain finally catches up - resulting in a combination grunt-snort that sounds more like he's about to chunder up the remains of whatever's haunting his stomach. “ public service, then? ” dudley wipes a hand over his mouth with a grimace & an entirely unserious glare directed at ginny: somewhat hampered by the grin that pops up from behind his hand once it's finished in its mission to rid the drool. “ you could at least look half as hungover as i feel. c'mon. your acting skills need more effort. ” he smushes his face back into the arm of the chair, eyes half-closed again already.

dudley's motion doesn't so much as dissuade her from talking as it does inspire a new sort of annoying behaviour as she reaches across to give him a messy kind of fist bump - impacted, of course, by the fact that it wasn't exactly what he was going for. leaning back in her chair ( the closest armchair to him, and one she's been silently sitting in for the last five minutes ) with a grin, ginny gives a shrug and says, "hey, 'least i'm telling you. be worse if i just let you dribble wherever you please, wouldn't it?" and here she brushes her hand against her own lip, adding, "you've got a little here, actually-"

[rebuildeds]

“ and never hear the end of it? you're alright. ” dudley scoffs, smile reaching his eyes and beyond as he leans into her touch. he knows he's safe with ginny, such stark contrast to how he was even a few years ago, let alone when they first met. he wants to do this, but even if he didn't, it wouldn't be the end of days if he were to lose face in front of her. not that there's much face left to lose. he's made a fool out of himself far too many times to be precious about looking cool in front of her anymore ( which doesn't mean that sometimes he doesn't try still, of course ).

it's over quicker than he expected, only lasting impacts are the cough that shakes his chest as he rights himself and the slow, slow rush of his blood settling back into place. he pulls ginny giddily into a one-armed side hug, kissing the top of her head and letting out a little whoop. “ that was sick! ”

“just for the record, you can still back out,” she tells him, quickly, holding onto him for a few seconds longer as if to convey through touch that it’s okay, and no one would ever say anything, if he did. that last part isn’t STRICTLY true, at least so far as ginny is concerned - some playful chicken sounds might be made, but at the very least, no one else would ever dare. also for the record, she doesn’t expect him to want to, nor does she actually think him cowardly enough to do so ; it just feels like the last opportunity to give him the option. when he lets go and shakes himself out, everything is a go. “okay-” she echoes his nod to the wix they have convinced to help, moving to crouch in front of him so that she’s ready to hold the keg tap, “on the count of three ? one, two, three-”