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bitterspoons · 8 months ago

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"Happy Birthdays at Privet Drive"

CHAPTER ONE

Edith Dursley Series by Bitterspoons

slowburn fred weasley x Fem!oc

SERIES MASTERLIST✨

in which: a half-giant bursts into a quaint hut with a cake after the Dursley's ran away from the post and owls.

word count: 4.4k

next chapter coming soon

“Here, let me help.” Quickly flipping the pancakes and bacon while the dark harried boy rushed to deliver coffee to her dad.

It was a special day for the Dursley’s—it was Dudley’s birthday but more than that—it'd be the day our story begins (Dudley should feel honored.)

While Edith hated the way her parents acted on his birthday (and occasionally Dudley) she still cared for her brother—even if her cousin, Harry, was more of a brother to her than Dudley would ever be.

Still, it was a small chance to bond with her brother since the relationship between the two Dursley siblings was…strained to say the least.

In their defense, it was mostly their parent’s fault for how the two had become competitive.

It started out when Edith’s reading comprehension passed Dudley’s, despite him being a year older than Harry and Edith. She was showered in attention and praise.

That sparked into a new challenge for the two, trying to surpass each other in every way possible.

Two specific competitions drove the two apart.

Kindness, Compassion and Emotional Intelligence.

Dudley had never been one for empathy, having become a “bully” in their school. While the two siblings were both popular, Edith was the kind spirit—helping younger kids find their way to classes and solving playground disputes.

This was especially impactful to Harry Potter—their orphaned cousin who had been living with them since he was a year old.

Maybe it was because Edith was closer in age to him, being only 2 months older while Dudley had been 14 months older. Or because Harry looked more like Edith. Or because Harry came up with Edith’s nickname, Eddie.

One thing was clear. Edith and Harry had a strong bond while Dudley did not.

Edith had a keen eye for sadness. At first it was small things when they were children like giving Harry some of her toys or holding his hand when they tried to walk so he wouldn’t be left behind.

As they got older, her support increased. Giving Harry snacks, pillows, blankets, stuffed animals. Soon it was money she earned from her lemonade stand, notes for homework (albeit they weren’t great unless they were for English) but she tried. She cut his hair so that it stayed long and fluffy but didn’t get too tangled or past his eyes unlike her mother who tried unevenly buzzing it off, just for it to grow back in a matter of days.

And if Dudley couldn’t be the best, he would be the worst.

Edith would spend money to fix the glasses that Dudley broke. Or cleaning up food that Dudley spilled so that Harry wouldn’t have to.

Dudley hated English, despised it. Words weren’t meant for anything more than speaking. Journaling, plays and books were all futile.

Edith loved words, writings of all sorts. Poetry was her favorite, playing with words in a way that perfectly encompassed how you felt and conveyed meaning with small detail. It was a delicate craft.

But there was one other thing that caused quite the rift between them.

Petunia’s Love

Their mother was quite the character. Edith only heard bits and pieces about her sister, Harry’s mom but it seemed enough.

She cried over her, she yelled over her, she swooned over her and sometimes she’d lull herself to sleep, pretending to say goodnight to her.

And she’d call Edith by her name.

I’d like to say that Petunia’s jealousy towards Edith started after some argument between them. But that would be a lie. Instead, it started before Edith was even born.

Lily Potter—or rather Lily Evans was apparently the poster-perfect child. Her parents raved about the school she went to and it seemed like Petunia was left in the dust, just to be bitter.

So when Edith was born, Petunia was overjoyed to see that Edith had her own big blue eyes and dark hair like her father, Vernon.

But then Edith turned 9 months old, and what used to be brown hair had a shade of copper to it. And as Edith grew older, her hair solidified into a dark auburn—Petunia’s ginger genes shining through ever so slightly.

Unfortunately, Edith was blessed with the Evans look—having only inherited dark hair from her father instead of the blonde hair that Dudley and Petunia had. Otherwise, she was a spitfire between Petunia and Lily—as if her grandparents had another child.

This was a horrible thing, as while Edith was very pretty—Petunia could not escape her sister, even if she had died.

Dudley, who was constantly showered in affection and attention because looked like his father with Petunia’s hair and eyes—a man she loved and a woman she had grown to love too.

But Edith looked like Lily and Petunia. A woman Petunia hated, loved, envied and missed and the inferior sister.

Petunia’s attitude towards Edith differed drastically. Either Lily was the reason Petunia looked in the mirror and sighed, or she was a sister she never got to apologize to.

In rebuttal to her unresolved issues with her sister, she treated her daughter similarly.

Either Edith was brushed off, cursed, or simply ignored like Harry or she was love bombed with flowers, money, gifts and apologies.

The push and pull of it all was exhausting, especially since Dudley seemed to get all her affection without a weird grieving ultimatum or any effort on his part at all.

And when Vernon had sexist prejudice—his son was always the more important one in the family, being the eldest child in their care and a boy—it seemed as though Dudley had everyone while Edith had Harry.

But in dear time, that would be all she needed.

“I want everything to be perfect for my Dudley’s special day!!” Petunia cooed, leading him to the living room where piles of presents lie. “Aren’t they wonderful darling?”

“How many are there?” Dudley asked, looking over at the colorfully wrapped presents, his nasally voice projecting through the room.

“Thirty-six.” Vernon bragged. “Counted them myself.”

“Thirty-six?” Dudley clarified, outraged. “But last year—last year I had thirty-seven!”

Edith handed him a plate of bacon and pancakes. “If you don’t want them, I’ll take ‘em.” She sassed, turning back around to flip the eggs.

Their mother doted on the boy, smoothing this hair out. “Oh now, now, now, this is what we’re going to do. When we go to the zoo, you can buy two new presents!”

They finished breakfast quickly, wanting to get to the zoo before the traffic started.

Edith went down the stairs, carrying a small brightly colored box. “Dudley!” She called softly, handing him the gift with a tightlipped smile. “Gift number thirty-seven.” She labeled as he took it.

Taking the present with grubby hands he returned the awkward smile, the two siblings stiffly hugged before getting in the car. “Thanks…”

She mumbled a “Happy Birthday” before buckling her seatbelt, waiting for her dad to stop gripping Harry by the hair outside the car.

She leaned over from the middle seat, opening the door from the inside and cut Vernon’s warning to Harry short—saying something about Dudley’s impatience so he’d stop tugging Harry’s roots.

Her dad shoved Harry into the car, and Edith pulled in him before Vernon could shut the car door on him and the family went on their way to the zoo.

Their zoo day wasn’t half bad—even Harry agreed. Edith and Harry walked around together, admiring the animals and even got their own ice creams (even though Harry’s was Dudley’s rejected ice cream, it was still a win.)

But little did they know as they walked into the Reptile House—this was the beginning of the rest of their lives—and it’s quite the story with bits I wrote tediously, so do try and keep up.

Edith looked at the snakes with awe, they were very pretty creatures that deserved to be admired—although the ethics of this specific zoo were a bit questionable.

One snake in particular caught their attention.

It laid in its enclosure with a particular tiredness. Edith could practically feel the sadness radiating off of the poor thing, the will to be free only to be trapped in a glass cage.

Rapping his hand against the glass, Vernon commanded the snake. “Move!” As Dudley complained of the snake's lack of curiosity to see him.

Dudley learned from example, banging his fist with more vigor than Vernon. “Move!” He yelled louder, causing some people to look their way.

“Will you stop it? He’s sleeping!” Edith pulled his hand away from the glass.

“He’s boring.” Dudley mumbled distastefully, waddling off to a different enclosure.

Harry looked back at the snake and began hissing at it.

The snake perked its head up, slithering closer to Harry. Harry continued to hiss at the snake who nodded and shook its head in response.

“Good god, my family is weird.” Edith said aloud before getting trampled to the side by her idiotic brother.

Groaning as she ate a faceful of floor, Edith propped herself back up seeing that Harry was also shoved aside by Dudley.

And that’s when Harry sent a particularly spiteful glare at Dudley and the walls of the glass snake enclosure simply disappeared.

Dudley fell in with a splash as the snake quickly took the opportunity to slither away, nodding at Harry before booking it for the exit.

“From his behavior, you’d think he’s trapped in there.” Edith mumbled, annoyingly flicking her wrists to get dirt and pebbles off them. “Just get out you big oaf—” Her words fell flat when the glass reappeared before her eyes.

Her parents ran to the cage, banging their fists against the glass and screaming as their son stood stuck in the glass enclosure.

With that they were ushered home, Dudley in a wrap of blankets and jackets as he sobbed. Harry was shoved into his “room.”

Petunia rushed Edith into her room, closing the door. “Lily, you always mess things up!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Edith protested despite actively being called the wrong name.

Harry was similarly getting framed by Vernon, being locked in the cupboard. “I swear, one minute the glass was there and the next it was gone! It was like magic!”

But of course— “There’s no such thing as magic.” He barked gruffly, quickly waddling over to his darling boy to comfort him during these traumatic times.

And that’s when the letters started.

Edith watched the first owl arrive in Privet Drive, having been sat on the roof of her house.

She liked talking to the stars before she slept and after the day had taken an exciting yet exhausting turn—she hadn’t the energy to go back down to her bed.

But you can imagine her curiosity when she awoke and saw an owl staring straight at her. An envelope with a red wax seal was in its mouth. She gently took it before going back into her room, ready to tell Harry about the weird interaction she just had.

She walked downstairs to Dudley’s photoshoot for his new school, a foul smell laced the kitchen as Petunia boiled down Dudley’s old uniform as she explained how Harry had to wear those next school year.

“But they’ll fit me like elephant skin!” Harry protested, pouring Vernon coffee.

“They’ll fit you just fine.” Petunia sneered before commanding him to go get the mail for the day.

Edith followed him to the hall. “Don’t worry, Harry—You can wear some of my black clothes. They’ll fit you better than those, that's for sure.”

Giving a tight lipped smile, Harry picked up the letters for today. “Thanks, Eddie.”

Harry sorted through the mail, as Edith remembered the letter.

“Oh! I got the most peculiar letter today from an owl, it’s addressed to both of us.” Edith took the letter from her pocket, showing him the front of it.

“An owl?” Harry clarified, walking back into the kitchen and handing people their mail.

Dudley shoved some eggs in his mouth. “What owl?” He asked, mouth full of chewed food.

Edith looked at him with disgust. “Just a dream I had.” She brushed off, sitting down on the couch with Harry, handing him the letter.

To: Mr. H Potter and Ms. E Dursley—Cupboard Under the Stairs and Rooftop of 4. Privet Drive Little Whinging, SURREY.

Harry and Edith glanced at each other, curious as to if all posts had to be that specific with addressing. Harry began gently peeling the letter open when it was snatched out of his hands.

“Dad! Harry’s got a letter!” Dudley shrieked, handing it to their dad laughing.

“Shove off, it’s ours!” Edith argued, trying to reach over Dudley to take it back.

“Oh please, who’d be writing to you two.” Petunia scoffed, leaning over Vernon’s shoulder.

Harry and Edith seethed together when Petunia and Vernon’s faces went pale, staring at the stamp on the back of the envelope.

The next couple of days Edith and Harry spent together, either waiting on the roof together for the owls to fly by or in Harry’s cupboard, watching the letterbox like hawks.

Everytime, the letters ended up ripped or burned or destroyed and soon, Vernon nailed the letter box shut entirely.

“What happens when bills come in!” Edith protested, trying to pry the nails off with her fingers. “Didn’t you say Aunt Marge is ill? What if her death notification comes in the mail!”

But the letters were still kept from the two kids. Owls littered Privet Drive to the point where newspapers were reporting an unusual amount of owl sightings and little kids were making feather keychains to sell to their friends.

Vernon and Petunia even tried changing the two’s locations in the house—giving Harry Dudley’s old second bedroom and giving Edith the entire basement and still all the changed was the address on the letters.

Petunia spent her days clawing at her hair in frustration and blending up letters and Vernon spent his nights burning letters in the fireplace.

And it changed on sunday.

“Fine day, Sunday.” Vernon smiled, happy with himself as the family sat in the living room. Harry walked around with a tray of biscuits and Edith was making Harry and her hot chocolate. “Favorite day of the week. Why is that, Dudley?”

Dudley shrugged so Harry answered for him. “No post on sundays?”

“Right you are Harry! No post on sundays!” Vernon cackled to himself. “No post on sundays!” He repeated gleefully, picking up a cookie. “Not one, bloody letter! Not one!”

But as it seems, that was quite the ironic thing to say when a letter came flying out of the fireplace and knocked the biscuit right out of his hand.

The house rumbled and Edith was quite sure an earthquake was happening when letters began flying out of the fireplace like confetti.

The two cousins looked at the scene unfolding in awe before jumping into action.

The letterbox broke open, letters fell from the sky as Harry darted to catch them.

Edith darted for the floor, trying to grab some herself before her mom picked her up and forced her to stand, pinning her arms to her sides. “Don’t you dare, Lily.”

“You’re the one who named me woman! How can you never remember it!” Edith cried out with annoyance.

Harry tried to catch letters while he could only to get tackled by Vernon.

"We're going away!" Vernon announced, holding Harry down. "Far away! Where they can't find us!"

Harry squirmed from under Vernon, annoyed as he was limited from grabbing the letters due to his stance on the floor being practically maimed by his uncle.

"Dad has gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked, horrified at the scene.

Petunia just shook her head, pushing Edith to the wall so she couldn't grab any of the letters either.

Harry and Edith's protests were heard from the whole neighborhood as they were shoved into the car. The Dursley family threw some essentials into the car and drove off—leaving the letter filled house in the distance.

They traveled from hotel to hotel, making small stops at gas stations but no matter where they went—which hotel chain or motel chain—the front desk always informed them of an influx of letters to an Edith Dursely and a Harry Potter

So it was time for more drastic measures. The family of Durseleys and Potters rented a boat, rowing their way to a distant run down hut on a rock. .

The pouring rain made their journey treacherous and when they finally got inside, they all panted and wrapped themselves in blankets.

Petunia and Vernon took the bed, Dudley took the couch which left Harry and Edith to lay on the floor with a blanket and jackets.

Edith rummaged in her pockets, grabbing a small tissue and wrapping up some coins into a little package. She tied a little ribbon on the package and drew little stars on it with an old marker that was left behind by the past renters of the hut.

Harry drew out a little birthday cake on the dirtied floor, writing a small birthday note to himself and checking Dudleys watch for the time.

Pinching some sand, Edith sprinkled it onto the 'candles' of the cake and placed her gift in front of Harry before quietly singing Happy Birthday to him.

Harry opened his small gift, appreciating the effort she made to get a gift despite being on a hut on a rock in the middle of nowhere.

It was a small little hut. Wind rattled the filthy windows and you couldn’t escape the smell of seaweed. Edith wondered how much one had to pay to stay in an estate like this.

Dudley’s watch beeped and Harry blew out the dust candles they had made. Edith clapped a little but was quickly interrupted by a loud bang.

Edith ushered Harry into a corner as the bangs got louder, louder than the lighting crashing down near them.

The door shook vigorously, waking up Dudley and her parents as the hinges of the door rattled for their lives. And soon, the door fell down.

Petunia quickly switched a light on, her husband pointing a gun at the door when an extremely tall man stood in the doorway.

Shaggy bushy hair almost covered his whole face, and he had hands as big as trash can lids—which he promptly used to pick the door back up and try to prop it against the doorway. “Sorry about that!” He said casually.

“I demand you leave at once sir!” Vernon squawked, pointing his gun. “You are breaking and entering!”

The giant of a man walked up to him and grabbed his gun—twisting the metal up with his bare hands so it would shoot up at the ceiling. “Dry up, Dursley, you great prune.” He snorted.

And that’s when Edith let her shoulders relax, deciding she liked whoever this intruder was and figured they were probably less dangerous than her dad with a gun.

The man turned to Dudley with a surprised look. “Mind, I haven’t seen you since you was a baby, Harry but you’re a bit more along than I would have expected.” His voice was very friendly and joking. “Particularly ‘round the middle” He laughed.

Edith walked a bit closer to the man, Harry trailing after her.

Dudley stumbled over his words. “I-I’m not Harry!” He explained quickly, voice shaking.

Harry peeked his head from behind Edith. “I am.” He spoke up.

Turning around, the man’s smile got bigger. “Why of course you are! And you must be the ‘ittle Edith! You look strikingly similar to your aunt, Lily!” He admired the two children.

“So I’ve heard.” Edith replied, still quite confused by the situation.

He turned around, rummaging through his jacket. “Got something for you!” He said, taking out a box. “‘Afraid I might’ve sat on it on my way over but I imagine it’ll taste just the same.”

Harry took the box gingerly, opening it up to see a cake—messily coated in pink frosting with the words “HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY” scrawled on top in green.

“Baked it myself, words and all.” Bragging, the man sat down on the moth-eaten sofa.

“Thank you,” Harry looked up at the man with genuine gratitude, the stranger having celebrated his birthday more than his aunt and uncle combined.

“Isn’t everyday that you turn 11 now is it?” He smiled, taking out an umbrella and pointing it at the old fireplace. A ball of fire shot out from the tip, landing in the kindle and bringing warmth into the rundown hut.

Harry and Edith looked at the now-lit fireplace in awe. “You are so awesome.” Edith said, mesmerized by the flame.

The man chuckled as Harry put down the cake, gingerly sitting down next to him. “Excuse me, but who are you?”

“Rubeus Hagrid!” He introduced himself, eyes like black beetles peeking from the bushy hair. “Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.”

Edith furrowed her eyebrows. “Hogwarts?” In her mind, she questioned whether it was circus a or a farm.

“Of course, you two already know all about Hogwarts.” Hagrid brushed himself off, ready to move onto the next topic.

Harry and Edith glanced at each other, a mutual confusion. “Sorry—no.” Harry blinked at the man.

“No?” Hagrid repeated, confused. “Blimey, Harry. Didn’t you ever wonder where your mum and dad learned it all?”

“All of what?” Harry said, a bit oblivious.

“Yer a Wizard, Harry.” He said, eyes glimmering with mischief.

Harry’s eyes widened with pure confusion. “I’m a what?”

“A wizard!” He repeated. “And a thumping good one, I’d wager—once you’ve trained up a little. And if Edith is as similar to Lily as she looks, I’d say you’re on the same path.”

Edith pointed at herself, bewildered. “I’m a wizard?”

“A witch.” Petunia interrupted, correcting her daughter. “You’re a witch.”

Twirling around, Edith looked at her mother, pointing at her and then back at Hagrid, mouth gaped open before turning back to Hagrid—processing. “Am I going crazy?” She asked herself.

Harry was going through a weird state of denial as well. “I mean, no—I can’t be a…a wizard—I’m Harry! Just Harry.”

Hagrid chuckled at the two once more. “Well, just Harry. Have you ever made anything happen?” He asked. “Anything you couldn’t explain when you were angry or scared?”

The two kids had their share of unexplainable things.

Harry’s magical growing hair or the snake exhibit, the time where Edith’s clothes all turned blue after her mother told her it was a boy-ish color and when Harry ended up on the roof after escaping Dudley’s taunts and bullies.

There was also a time where Edith woke up one day with a black eye, having wished that Vernon had punched her instead of Harry and Harry’s wound was gone.

Hagrid saw the realization in their eyes and pulled out an envelope. A letter Harry and Edith had been trying to get ahold of for weeks.

Edith leaned over Harry’s shoulder, reading aloud the contents. “Dear Mr. Potter and Ms. Dursley—we are pleased to inform you that….you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Vernon quickly waddled over to the two kids. “They will not be going!” He announced in a hush voice, having found his audacity again after his initial shock. “We swore when we took him in, we’d put a stop to all this rubbish!”

“You knew?” Harry exclaimed, betrayed. “You knew this whole time and never told me?”

Petunia scoffed, crossing her arms. “Of course we know. How could you not be?” She said bitterly. My perfect sister being who she was…with that Potter.” She paced around. “My mother and father were so proud the day she got her letter. I was the only one who ever saw her for who she was—a freak.”

Edith flinched. “And me? Did you know I was a witch?”

Petunia practically rolled her eyes. “We were hoping you weren’t. But when you started floating instead of crawling, we were pretty confident you had taken after her. And then she got herself blown up and then we ended up with you and Harry. The two abnormal children.”

“Blown up?!” Harry yelled. “You told me my parents died in a car crash!”

“A car crash?” Hagrid repeated incredulously. “A car crash killing James and Lily Potter?”

“We had to say something.” They excused themselves.

“It’s an outrage! A scandal!” Hagrid shouted at them, waving his umbrella.

“They will not be going.” Vernon stuck up his nose.

Hagrid mocked them. “Oh and I suppose a great muggle like yourself is going to stop them, are you?”

A quick beat of silence as the argument fizzled out for a moment. “A muggle?” Edith questioned.

“Non-magic folk.” Hagrid defined before quickly jumping back into the argument. “This boy has had his name down ever since he were born! He’s going to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world and she’s going with him! They will be under the finest headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen, Albus Dumbledore!”

The two children beamed up at Hagrid, having someone defend them for once in their lives other than each other.

Face turning red, Vernon raised his voice. “I will not pay to have some crackpot old fool teach him magic tricks!”

Hagrid stuck the flame-thrower-umbrella in Vernon’s face. “Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me.” He warned, tone harsh and dry.

The room went silent, the only noise heard was Dudley, snacking on Harry’s birthday cake in the corner.

Hagrid stuck his umbrella towards him, a beam of mist shooting out and at Dudley. A pig tail emerged from Dudleys behind, swirling around as Dudley shrieked and squawked.

Panicking, Vernon and Petunia started screaming as well—chasing after Dudley as he ran around the room in circles.

Harry laughed as Edith smiled, covering her mouth.

Leaning down a little, Hagrid lowered his voice into a whisper. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone at Hogwarts about that. I’m not supposed to be using magic.”

They nodded feverishly, as Hagrid thanked them—taking out a little pocket watch. “Ooh, we’re a bit behind schedule. Best be off!”

He headed towards the exit, looking back at the cousins who hadn’t moved yet. “Unless of course you’d want to stay?”

With that, Edith slipped on her shoes and walked out the door, Harry stumbling after.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

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magmagicstyle · 20 days ago

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FATHERHOOD

IN THIS HOUSEHOLD WE DON'T SUPPORT JK ROWLING.

Dudley Dursley was never meant to be a dad.

Bloody hell, even the idea of being a dad sounded absolutely ridiculous. A few months ago, even a few days ago, he would punch anyone who dared to tell him that he would be a good dad. The idea so impossible that it couldn’t be any other thing than a jest.

Yet, as if the universe had decided to spit in his face for tempting fate too much, here he was… barely 18 years old, cradling a newborn in his arms at five in the morning, sitting in a stiff hospital chair. Which made him think of his mother sitting by his side the time he broke his arm and… God, how could his mom sleep on one of those dammed chairs? They seemed torture devices.

He looked down at the baby cradled in his arms, looking at her features under the dim glow of the hallway’s fluorescent lights. The world outside was still dark, and it felt as if time itself had paused, letting him process the crushing weight of this moment. The baby –his daughter… and didn’t that fill his heart with cold dread that threatened to rip his soul apart-, she was impossibly small, even when wrapped in a hospital blanket and wearing warm clothes to protect her from the freezing cold of London, Her tine chest rising and falling with each soft breath, her little eyelashes and pouty lips… He had never held something so fragile in his life.

And she has no idea she’d been just abandoned.

Dudley swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly tight with anguish. One phone call… one dammed phone call was what had changed everything in his life. The hospital staff had been the one to call him, just to inform him that the mother –a friend, a one-night stand, a mistake… someone who hadn’t planned for this any more than he had– had given birth and promptly left after leaving a note with his number in it. She just left. No note. No explanation. She hadn’t even hugged the baby once before she was abandoning their child. Nothing. Just this tiny, helpless life left behind without any care or consideration.

Why did she leave and make sure to let the hospital staff know to call Dudley? She knew him, she knew he was an idiot, a bully that used his height and weight to push people around and to get what he wanted… How could she even think that Dudley would be responsible? That he would be a good… dad? A dad, only thinking of the word, made him feel nauseous due to the nervousness.

He looked down at the baby once more, her face scrunching slightly in her sleep… Maybe she was dreaming… Do babies dream? Does she dream? Maybe he should ask that someday…

Dudley moved his finger over the baby’s cheek and her face instantly relaxed, almost as if she knew she was being caressed and just then… he felt a surge of something unfamiliar. It wasn’t the usual fear he had been feeling since receiving the call, even though that was still there… It wasn’t anger, though he also felt that, mostly directed towards the girl that had pushed this huge responsibility towards him without any warning… for real, if she was planning to give birth to the baby, it would be nice to be informed from the beginning and not when the baby is already here. Anyways… what Dudley felt was… deeper, somehow… and it was heavy and inescapable.

What the hell am I supposed to do with you?

The thought came unhidden, and immediately, shame followed it. As if sensing his inner turmoil, the baby stirred slightly in his arms, making a tiny noise that was quite similar to a whimper, before settling again. He watched her, barely breathing himself, terrified that even the smallest of shifts might wake her. It was only when she seemed to be completely relaxed, he rocked her gently. He had seen the nurse do that before, so he hoped that it would be alright for him to do the same. While doing that simple motion, his mind drifted, unearthing memories he had forced himself to bury long ago.

He wasn’t meant to be a dad.

He knew that since he was a little kid, sitting in the living room of his house and watching his father’s face, red with fury, always barking orders. Dursleys do not tolerate freakishness. Dursleys are respectable. He was always repeating those two “rules” over and over again. His father had made it clear enough for him to understand since he was barely a toddler. Family was about control, about appearances, and power. Not about love. Love was uncontrollable, it made you foolish and it ruined everything. Love was never something Vernon Dursley had valued… and his mother–

Petunia Dursley (née Evans).

His grip tightened slightly around the baby in his arms. He felt a surge of protectiveness wrapping around his heart and pressing in his chest. He could still remember her, thin-lipped and distant, always fussing over appearances to the point Dudley felt he had to always be proper in the eyes of her to keep getting her love and care. He could still hear her voice, sharp and insistent, always with an edge of nervousness and fear, echoing through his childhood. A proper family, Dudders. That’s what we are… You must always be proper, always do what’s expected.

What would she say if she saw him now? How would she react at the little girl in his arms? Would she look at this baby the way she had loved at Harry?

A shudder ran through him at the sudden thought.

Harry.

The name always felt like a blade to his conscience.

Little Harry, barely a baby –always skinny, unwanted, shoved into a cupboard beneath the stairs until they were forced to give him a room. Always being pushed away and labelled as different, as weird. Not ours. His parents always said. Not one of us.

Bloody hell, he hadn’t thought of his cousin in a couple of years. Not really. He had put their past behind, buried it so deep inside his brain, doing his best to ignore it to the point it wouldn’t claw at him in the dead of the night. But now, staring down at this little baby, at his daughter –what an odd concept, his daughter– he couldn’t help but remember.

And for the first time in his life, he truly understood.

He hadn’t before, not really. He had acted like he did, but he was just a stupid child –he’s still a stupid child–. Harry had been an inconvenience, a punching bag, a way to entretaint himself and ignore how shitty his family actually was, a shadow that lurked at the edges of his spoiled little life. After all, during that time, it was so easy to ignore suffering when it wasn’t yours.

But now, as he held his daughter in his arms, abandoned before she even had the chance to understand what family was, what being loved was, the weight of it all hit him like a freight train. And the slap in the face that the universe was giving him at this exact second was hard.

He had never been unwanted–not like Harry. He had never been abandoned or been the metaphorical and literal punching bag of the world–not like his cousin. But now, in this quiet hospital room, looking at the window and letting the soft fluorescent lights of the hallway be the only light he had, he finally understood what it must have felt like to be left behind.

Now, holding his little daughter, he understood what it meant to be unwanted, what it meant to be discarded, and left behind like an inconvenience. He thought of Harry as a little boy, shoved into a cupboard by the family that was supposed to care for him, being ignored, neglected and unloved by the only people that could give him a connection to the parents that actually loved him so much that died protecting him.

Dudley had never been on the receiving end of that cruelty. But he had witnessed it. And worse, he had been part of it. He was spoiled and mean, and he had believed himself to be better than his small, weak cousin. He enjoyed being the centre of attention and bragged about the fact that he got to have things his cousin would never have in his life.

His stomach churned at the line of thought.

He sucked in a shaky breath and looked at the baby in his arms. If his parents were by his side to see him now, they’d be horrified. All their pride and–in his mother’s case– love, would banish in an instant. A single father? Raising a baby abandoned by her mother? His mother would have clutched her pearls and declared it a scandal, she would’ve probably wept, acting as if the baby in his arms was a curse or a tragedy. His father… Vernon… He would have ranted about irresponsibility and ruined futures. Maybe he would have even suggested abandoning the baby in an orphanage before everyone could notice Dudley was her father.

But they weren’t here, he hadn’t told them of the call, nor about the girl that had been a night of fun. Luckily, he had gotten into a college that had a student hall, and looking for some freedom from his parents, he had pushed them to let him live at the dorm, so they weren’t aware of what was happening. Maybe, just maybe… he would finally be able to cut them off of his life, so their expectations and rules no longer held power over him. He had a job, and he was actually doing well enough at college to apply for a scholarship… But he would think about those things later.

A soft, almost imperceptible, sigh pulled him from his thoughts. The baby in his arms nestled closer, her tiny fingers twitching against the blanket. He hesitantly traced a finger along her cheek. She’s so small.

Another memory surfaced, an unwanted, heart-wrenching memory–Harry, years later, standing in the doorway of Privet Drive. It had been the last time they’d spoken, that awkward, fumbling goodbye. His cousin didn’t look like a teenager anymore, no… Harry looked like an adult, like a man that had seen too much and was about to see worse things. He had tried to say something then, something real, something that was able to convey that he didn’t hate his cousin, but that the way he was raised had made him an entitled asshole… Something like that… But words had never come easy for him.

Would Harry understand what he was feeling now? Would he even care? Or had Dudley burned that bridge beyond repair? If he did, he couldn’t really blame Harry for not wanting to know anything about Dudley or the Dursleys in general. After all, there’s so many times a boy can be insulted/ignored/abused before he stops hoping for anything from his abusers.

He pushed the thought aside. Concentrate Dudley. Tonight isn’t about Harry or your bloody guilt. Tonight it’s about her.

The baby in his arms yawned, her face scrunching in that way newborns do, like she was annoyed at the outside world – me too, kid, me too… – She started to relax her expression once again, making a tiny noise of displeasure before settling back into sleep. Just then, looking at his daughter’s face, Dudley felt a strange sense of peace settle over him. He didn’t know how to be a father, god, he was pretty sure he was never meant to be one, and by that logic, he wasn’t sure he would ever be good at it.

But one thing he knew for certain– He wasn’t going to make his daughter an orphan. Not if he was here to be by her side.

He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t his mother… And even if before he was ashamed because of that, now he was proud. Because he would not be one of them to this little flower.

Just then, the door creaked open, pulling him away from his own thoughts. Dudley stopped looking at his baby and glanced at the nurse who had stepped inside the room. She was smiling softly, “How’s she doing, dad?” She asked, and for a second Dudley felt himself waver at the last word before he cleared his throat.

“Good. She’s… she’s good” He answered while looking at the baby, trying to find if she was truly fine or if Dudley had managed to ruin everything in the last couple of hours.

The nurse nodded, not looking at Dudley, trusting him with the baby while she checked the monitors before turning back to him. “Have you thought of a name for her?” She asked with a kind smile.

Dudley looked down at his daughter, heart pounding slightly. He felt like an idiot, he hadn’t let himself think about it until now, not wanting to name her in case his brain decided to act like a coward like always and disappear in the middle of the night like her mother did. But as he stared at her, looking into the small and adorable face–he couldn’t believe a baby so adorable was actually his–, the answer came easier than he expected.

Daisy.

His little flower, his little Daisy.

As soon as he thought of it, the name settled in his chest like an anchor.

His baby. A new beginning. A chance to grow something good, something nice and kind, from something broken… from someone as broken as Dudley.

“Daisy.” The name his lips with quiet certainty, barely a bit louder than a whisper. “Daisy Petunia Dursley.” He added.

It was a tribute, not a curse. A reclamation of sorts. A way to make a promise to the universe that he would do whatever was in his power to make this little girl way happier than the original Petunia.

The nurse’s smile widened. “That’s a beautiful name,” and after those words, she disappeared again–probably going to write the name in the necessary paperwork–, leaving him alone with his daughter.

Dudley swallowed the lump in his throat and held his daughter just a little tighter. He didn’t have all the answers, but he was pretty sure none of the new parents had any of those. After all, if a lot of women and men were always writing books about parenting and how to be a good parent, well… it was because parents still didn’t have a clue of what to do and were just trying their best.

Maybe there wasn’t a correct answer at all. Maybe the whole parenting thing was about making mistakes while trying to avoid traumatizing your kid too much.

Sure, Dudley Dursley was never meant to be a dad, less a teenage dad. But he would be.

Because this little girl was his. His little flower.

And he would try his damn best for her, and he hoped, he begged to God, the universe, or whatever was up there, that his best would be enough.

I saw somewhere (don't remember where or when) that Dudley has a daughter and that she is a magical child. What if he was a teen dad? What if he was a dad from a one-night stand? Many many questions. Anyways, shoutout to the people that created the headcanon (if it's a headcanon, at this point, fandom and canon is all mixed up in my brain and I can't and won't differentiate between the two), if you appear around here, you can leave me a comment or write directly to my tumblr and I'll add a mention. Also! IN THIS HOUSEHOLD WE DON'T SUPPORT JK ROWLING.

#harry potter fanfiction #dudley dursley #harry potter angst #angst #hurt/comfort #vernon dursley #petunia dursley #dursley family #harry potter

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