So when it gets distressing it's a blessing!

Onward and upward you must press! Yes, Yes!

Till up from the ashes, up from the ashes grow the roses of success.

•

Dudley wished more than anything that Clarence was here, but he knew this was something he was going to have to do on his own – no matter how much it terrified him.

While he waited in the café (he'd shown up half an hour early, just in case, which was an excellent example of what Clare frequently called his tendency towards "anxious anticipation"), he graded papers. He'd never understood why other professors complained about grading; he loved it. Not only did he find it immensely calming, but also loved hearing the students' voices and watching them learn through their assignments. He also enjoyed looking through them with Clare and guessing which ones came from wizarding families. God, he wished Clare was here right now.

As soon as the clock on his mobile hit the time they're agreed on, Dudley started to panic. He knew he couldn't expect people to be as flawlessly punctual as he wished they would be, but nevertheless… there was a very high probability that his guest wouldn't show.

Dudley wouldn't blame him at all.

He kept going through the papers. This one, Sarah Dale, was obviously a witch. He'd spotted her out the first day of class when she'd come in munching a box of Bertie Bott's, and she'd been making small allusions to her wizarding family on accident ever since. His parents would kill him if they ever knew, but Dudley had become an expert on all things magical. Working in Diagon Alley had taught him more than he'd ever thought he'd know about wizarding culture.

When he looked up for a second, he saw the man he'd been waiting for only a few minutes before, entering the shop.

Dudley's pulse instantly sped up. He couldn't believe how different he looked. He looked so… old. So much more mature than he'd last seen him. For a few moments, Dudley honestly couldn't believe this man could really him… but then Harry turned and saw him, and Dudley saw the familiar scar, green eyes, and the same style of round glasses he had worn as a child, and each man knew at the same time that he really was looking at his cousin.

Harry made his way through the tables. Dudley stood. When Harry reached him, Dudley instinctively stuck out his hand. Harry seemed surprised at the gesture, but shook it all the same, not breaking the awkward silence or his piercing eye contact. Dudley felt himself start to shake internally and hoped Harry didn't feel the nervous vibrations when he shook his hand.

The moment seemed to drag on forever. Neither seemed to know what to say. When the first words came, it was – to both of their surprise – from Dudley.

"Hullo," he said. He scratched his neck and swallowed. Harry stayed silent for a moment more, and then seemed to shake himself.

"Er, hi." He raised his eyebrows and let his breath out slowly. "Should we, erm…"

"Yeah," Dudley said, and took a seat. Harry followed suit.

More silence. It was absolute torture. Dudley felt Harry's scrutinizing gaze and wished he knew what to say. Make small talk? Say something friendly? Apologize right off the bat? What?

Finally, Harry cleared his throat. "Is that a cappuccino?" he asked, pointing at Dudley's drink. Smalltalk, then. Thank god Harry knew his tact.

"Er, yeah." Clarence had introduced him to the fancier items on the menu, and while he still usually stuck to plain coffee, he quite liked the creamy taste of cappuccinos. "Do you like them?"

"Not really," Harry said. "I prefer tea, honestly."

"Oh." Dudley desperately wished he had said something else.

"But Hermione loves them," Harry added, after a moment.

Dudley vaguely remembered the name. Someone Harry had known at school, he thought. "Hermione?"

"One of my best friends," Harry said – almost defensively, it sounded. As if he had expected Dudley to scoff at the idea of Harry having friends (which, at one point, Dudley knew he would have).

"Oh," Dudley said. Then: "Um, are you going to order something?"

"Yeah, probably." Harry kept eying him in this uncomfortable way, as if Dudley were going to reach across the table and give him a right hook to the jaw. God, why hadn't he brought Clare?

More silence followed, during which a waiter passed by (whom Harry ordered an Earl Grey from) and Dudley's coffee started to go a bit cold.

Finally, Harry breached the subject. "I was a bit, er, confused," he admitted. "When you contacted me."

Dudley let out a huff. "Yeah. I can imagine. Sorry about that."

"It's just…" Harry sighed, still obviously uncomfortable. "You haven't… well. We haven't exactly spoken in a long time."

"No, we haven't."

"And you never really… seemed to… like me, is what I'm saying."

Dudley cringed.

"Yeah, I can understand that," he said through gritted teeth.

"And… Oh, thank you." Harry took his steaming cup from the waitress and started stirring it awkwardly. "Well. And. I was a bit surprised at your choice of communication, honestly?"

Dudley nodded. He knew full well that the way he'd sent the invitation was probably the only reason Harry had taken it seriously and bothered to speak to him again. Besides, he didn't know if Harry even contacted anyone by any means other than owl these days (although he could now clearly see a mobile phone sticking out of Harry's back pocket).

"Did he make a fuss at all?" he asked. "My owl, I mean? I call him Noisy. Guess you could figure out why."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Your owl?"

"Er. Yeah. He hasn't delivered a letter in a while, so I worried he might get a bit too excited."

Harry's eyebrow remained raised. "He was your owl. You've got an owl."

"Er." Dudley bit his lip. "Yes."

"You."

"Yeah."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "How… why do you have an owl?"

Dudley shrugged, which he hoped made him seem less nervous than he was. "Good way to communicate, I guess. And he makes a great pet."

Harry was still staring at him as though he'd grown a second head, but he mercifully decided to stop pushing the subject. "I see."

"Hows, er, your owl? Hedwig or something?" Dudley asked. "How's she doing?"

Harry looked down at his tea. "She died," he said. "Some years ago, actually."

Dudley wanted to punch himself. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't… I didn't know."

"It's okay," Harry said. "You couldn't have known. It's not like… well like I said, it's not like we've been on the best of terms."

"Right. We haven't."

More silence. Dudley felt like he might choke on it.

After what felt like minutes and minutes, Harry sneezed.

"Bless you," Dudley said.

Harry seemed surprised – probably at Dudley's unprecedented level of tact. "Thanks."

"No problem."

They drank for a while more.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat. "Dudley…" he said, and the name sounded sick coming from his mouth. Dudley knew that he'd probably still hate him at this point, but he hadn't been prepared for actually hearing the distaste in his cousin's voice, and it stung like a slap to the face. Harry cleared his throat again. "Dudley, I just… why did you want to see me, Dudley? All of a sudden?"

Dudley didn't know how to answer. There were too many reasons. So he could apologize, so he could try to rebuild this relationship from scratch, so he could sleep easier at night, etcetera. He ended up saying, simply: "So I could try to make things better."

This caught Harry off guard.

"Um. Better?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," Dudley said, instantly, and Harry didn't seem to catch the full weight of the words in Dudley's mouth so he said them again. "God, Harry, I am so, so sorry. I've wanted to say that to you every day since the last day we saw each other. What I did to you, all those years; that was absolutely unforgivable. So I won't be offended if you get up right now and leave and never speak to me again. I know I'll deserve it."

Harry's mouth was hanging open in shock, but Dudley forged ahead.

"I abused you," he said. "I know I did. I know that now. My parents did, too. We all abused you. I treated you like no one should ever be treated, especially not as good of a bloke as you. And I wish, I wish more than anything in the world that I could go back and do it all over again. And I know that I can't make it up to you, not ever, but I've been trying ever since then to make things right and I needed to at least say this all to you, before you left and never saw me again, just how absolutely sorry I am about all of it. Everything. All of it."

The quiet that followed was different this time, because now the words that needed to be said had been said, and they were hanging there like flies in spider silk. Harry was quiet. Dudley was waiting, breathless, but he had stopped shaking. Some part of him had been pacified. Even if Harry shouted at him, or left without a word, at least Dudley knew now that he had said what he needed to say, and the words had been listened to.

After what seemed like years, Harry laughed.

This took Dudley by surprise. He furrowed his brow. "Sorry, is something… funny?"

"Just… Ginny owes me two galleons now," he said, still chuckling. "I always said you'd apologize one day. She didn't think so, but then… I guess she's never met you."

Dudley was too shocked to know how to respond, so he just said, "Ginny?"

"Yeah. She's my wife."

"I didn't know you had a wife."

"Well I didn't know you had an owl," Harry responded, and Dudley was struck with a pang of familiarity. Harry had always known how to talk back when he wanted to.

"I guess there's a lot of things we don't know about each other," Dudley said. "But you… you thought I was going to apologize?"

Harry was quiet for a few moments more. "You were always different," he said after a while – softly. "Maybe no one else could tell. But I could. You weren't like your parents. You never were, really."

Dudley could have jumped for joy. Hearing that (from Harry Potter, of all people!) was almost too good to be true.

"I've spent a lot of years trying not to be," he said, and as he spoke he realized he was grinning. "Soon as you left, I got a good look at myself. Realized I wasn't who I wanted to be."

Harry smiled, just a little bit, and very awkwardly. "So what is it that you're, uh, doing now?" he asked, trying to move the conversation back into a more comfortable area. "Did you end up taking over Vernon's company like you always said?"

Dudley made a face of disgust. "God, no."

"So then what are you doing?"

Dudley held up the stack of assignments. "I'm a teacher," he said. "Second years."

Harry paused for a moment before grinning manically and laughing.

"That is too wild," he said. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude."

"It's fine."

"But, seriously. You're a teacher?"

Dudley would have been offended if he didn't feel the exact same way about the situation. "I know. Me, the old meathead, teaching primary school."

"It's bloody fantastic, is what it is," Harry said, and Dudley could feel the gates opening. Awkwardness was still hanging in the air like thick fog in between them, but the channels for conversation had at last been cleared.

"And you?" he asked. "What are you up to?"

"Auror," Harry said. "Ginny, too. An Auror is a wizard or witch who–"

"I know what an Auror is," Dudley said with a nod.

Harry stared at him, an eyebrow quirked up. "Dudley," he said slowly – "why do you have an owl?"

Dudley cleared his throat. "I bought him," he said. "In Diagon Alley."

Harry's eyes could have fallen out of his head, the way he stared at him. It was almost absurd. "You were… shopping in Diagon Alley?"

"Yeah. Nice place, that is."

"But… Dudley, only wizards can get in. No muggles."

"Not if you've got a wizard with you," Dudley answered. "The spell on the Leaky Cauldron only works on muggles if they don't have a wizard pointing it out to them. After that, we can see it."

Harry shook his head. "Okay, so… never mind the how." He shook his head again. "Why were you in Diagon Alley? What on Earth would you be doing in a wizard neighborhood?"

"Shopping," Dudley answered. "I worked there, for a while. Flourish and Blotts. They didn't mind so much that I was a muggle, as long as I knew how to receive book orders."

For the longest time, Harry couldn't seem to speak. He studied Dudley, his mouth hanging open, trying to figure out what to make of him. Dudley wondered what his boyfriend was doing, and if it wouldn't be too crazy to text him and beg for him to just apparate over if it wasn't too much trouble.

Before Dudley could consider actually reaching for his phone, Harry blinked. "You hate wizards," he said, which sounded halfway between a question and a statement. "You hate magic. You've always hated it."

"No," Dudley said firmly. "I never hated magic. I mean, well. I did. But it was because I hadn't thought about it. It was all my parents. And, of course, my first encounter with wizards didn't go so well…"

Both of them recalled Dudley's unfortunate mishap with the end of Hagrid's umbrella, and – a little while later – a scalpel. Dudley shuddered at the thought.

"So… what's happened now, then?" Harry sipped his tea. "You've changed your mind?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

Dudley shrugged. "I met someone," he said.

There must have been something in his voice, some hint of affection, because Harry's eyebrows went up. "A friend type someone?" he asked. "Or a more-than-friend type someone?"

"Definitely the latter," Dudley said, and watched in amusement as Harry blinked disbelievingly at Dudley's ability to use a word as complicated as "latter."

"So you're telling me…" Harry could hardly contain his amused grin. "…that you're dating a witch?"

Oh god, there it was. He'd hoped Harry wouldn't be like his parents, always assuming what they wanted to assume. A witch. Was this just the default setting that everyone went to unless you were really, outrageously gay-looking? Or was there something about him in particular that made everyone think that he liked women?

While Harry waited in yet another uncomfortable silence, Dudley wondered what to say. He figured he might as well get it out. It wasn't like Harry was the type to mind about that sort of thing, anyway.

"Well, not exactly." He took a deep breath. "More of a wizard, really."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"His name's Clarence," Dudley added. "Big fan of yours, obviously. He asked me to say hi for him."

Harry coughed.

"A wizard?" he repeated.

Dudley's heart sank. "Yes."

"Oh wow." Harry laughed again, which was better than the staring. "I can't believe it. After all the years of hating magic, now you're dating a wizard."

Dudley's chest instantly released its tension. So it was the magic part that Harry found absurd – that was a relief.

"Yeah," Dudley said, laughing a bit with him because honestly, it really was sort of ridiculous. "I used to be scared shitless of even the mention of spells – now my boyfriend does our laundry with magic. How's that for a twist?"

"Certainly not one I was expecting," Harry chuckled.

"Then you'll be even more surprised to know that I've learned a bit myself." After the bits of laughter, Dudley found himself gaining more courage than he thought he had.

"No, really?"

"Yeah. There are certain things muggles can do, you know."

"Like what?"

"Potions, mostly. Anyone can throw things into a pot. It's a lot like cooking. And divination too, obviously. I love reading Clare's tealeaves. It seems I've got a knack for it. All of my predictions have come true so far."

"Really? I never could get the hang of that divination stuff." Harry shook his head, grinning. "Hermione especially hated it. She could barely stand that class. I didn't have too great of a time, either. Our teacher kept telling me I was going to die some awful death."

"God, that sounds terrible."

"Yeah, it was. That class was bloody rubbish." He stared at his tea for a moment, drifting off into some past memory. "I did come to like the teacher, though. Professor Trelawny. I didn't like her much while I was her student, but after that she sort of grew on me."

"I didn't like any of my teachers at Smeltings," Dudley sighed. "Sounds like you were having a much nicer time than I was."

Harry went quiet again. Dudley thought about all the things he didn't know about Harry's life, and the things he'd just now learned. Harry was working as an auror? He was married? What else had he done in these years that Dudley didn't know about?

"So, tell me about this Clarence of yours," Harry said finally.

Dudley blushed. He hadn't expected Harry to inquire further into the business. "He's a librarian," he said.

"In a wizard or muggle library?"

"Muggle. That's where I met him. I was checking out a book."

Harry laughed again. Just one short, quiet blast. Ha. "You used to hate libraries. You said they were boring."

"Yeah, well." Dudley shrugged. "There were a lot of things I used to say."

"If I remember correctly," Harry said, raising an eyebrow, "which I'm pretty sure I do, you used to have an awful lot of nasty things to say about same-sex couples, too."

Dudley turned slightly pale. He hated thinking about this. "Er, yes. I did. Well."

"That was your parent's doing, too, then?"

"Partially." Dudley sighed. "Partially my own. I was afraid and so I bullied everyone else. You understand that now, don't you?"

"Yeah. I get it."

"I knew I was gay a long time ago. Before you even went to Hogwarts. At least, I was wondering, back then."

"Wow." Harry's eyebrows went up. "That's… a long time. And you kept it a secret for that long?"

"Clare was the first person I ever told."

"Not anyone else before that?"

"Not a soul."

"Wow," Harry said again. "And… what about…"

…my parents? Dudley finished in his head. He grit his teeth. "They don't know."

"Are you ever going to tell them?"

"I'll have to," Dudley answered. "Clare and I live together now. They're going to find out eventually. I'm much more concerned about how they'll react to the whole magic thing, honestly."

"And what about everything else? The teaching and everything? How do they feel about that?"

"Oh, they hate it." Dudley laughed scornfully. "Dad wants to strangle me and Mum wants to cry every time she thinks about it."

"But you really love it, don't you?"

Dudley nodded. "It's what I've wanted to do for years. It's wonderful."

"That's really… wow." Harry looked as though he was about to say something else, but his phone chirped in his pocket. He gave Dudley an apologetic look and took it out.

"Oh, shit," he exclaimed suddenly. He stood so violently the table shook. "Dudley, I'm sorry, I've got to go. The baby set our living room on fire."

"Baby?"

"Yeah. Our son, James. He's always setting things on fire."

Dudley's heart fluttered for a reason he can't put his finger on. He has a son. "James?" he asked. "Like your dad?"

Harry looked at him, and Dudley could see his face softening in a way it hadn't yet, during the time they'd spent together talking. "Yeah," he said, quietly. "Like my dad."

He looked for a moment more, before waving goodbye and leaving without another word. Dudley was glad for it. At the moment, there was nothing more to be said.

•••

"How did it go?" Clare asked once Dudley strode back in through the door.

Dudley answered by smiling.

•••

This time, Dudley had set up their meeting through text. While owls were excellent for a lot of things, arranging events wasn't one of them.

Harry had chosen the spot. It was a small restaurant near the back of Diagon Alley that people rarely went to, but – Harry told him – had really excellent pasties.

Dudley was grateful for any excuse to go to Diagon Alley. He normally went for books and potion ingredients, but couldn't go that often, since he needed to bring Clare with him to get in (god damn Muggle protection). This time, Dudley waited for Harry in the Leaky Cauldron.

It was the first meeting since the one in the café, but they'd been talking a bit since. They had exchanged a few letters, and Harry had given Dudley his number at one point, so they had texted a bit, too. They'd caught up with each other. Dudley learned that Harry had two children and another one on the way, and that his two other friends that Dudley remembered (Hermione and Ron) were off and married and had children of their own. Dudley told him about his time at University, and his job at Flourish and Blotts, and his current teaching job. Harry told him about Ginny (she sounded lovely) and Dudley told him about Clarence (Harry said he sounded lovely).

Still, though, Dudley was nervous. How could he not be, after what happened with his parents last week? He hadn't heard a word from either of them since, and didn't want to. He was too afraid of what those words might be.

Harry walked into the Leaky Cauldron, and instantly everyone stood.

"Oy, it's Mr. Harry Potter!" the bartender shouted, and everyone else started shouting happily too, and Dudley watched in amusement as Harry had to shake around fifty hands and excuse himself numerous times in order to make it across the room to Dudley.

By the time he got over, Dudley was laughing. "Holy shit."

Harry grimaced. "I know."

"I mean, god, I knew you were famous, but this is ridiculous."

"If I thought I was famous before I killed Voldemort, well…" Harry sighed. "It's pretty hard just to live my life sometimes."

Dudley motions to the back door leading towards the brick wall entrance, and Harry follows, still talking. "I honestly don't come here all that much anymore." He taps on the brick with his wand and the archway opens up. They step through and begin the journey down Diagon Alley. "At least in muggle neighborhoods, people don't know who I am. But I thought… well, if you really want to know why I said we should meet here, it's just because I knew I couldn't believe the thought of you being in Diagon Alley until I'd seen it with my own eyes."

Dudley chuckled good-naturedly. As they passed the bookstore, he caught the eye of one of the employees (Esmerelda, she was called) and waved. She waved back, grinning. They'd done a lot of jobs together when he still worked there. Dudley still visited often, and they always had the loveliest chats.

"You really worked there?" Harry asked, eyebrow raised.

Dudley just shrugged and said nothing. There was still a part of him that shook inside. He just couldn't get rid of the awful feeling underneath his skin that his parents had left last week.

"How are things going, these days?" Dudley asked. "With the kids and everything?"

"Oh, with the kids? Fantastic." Harry gave him a little smile. Things were still awkward between them, obviously, but they'd grown into a comfortable familiarity that at least allowed them to exchange small talk without much difficulty. "Honestly, starting a family is the best thing that could have happened to my life."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah." They reached the shop they were heading for and went in. A waitress sat them at a table and they both ordered butterbeers and pumpkin pasties (extra pumpkin on the side for Harry). "See," he continued, "after the battle and everything, I just… well, I got really depressed for a while. I just didn't know what to do with myself. My whole life up 'til that point had been about defeating Voldemort, and then… well, then I'd done it. There was nothing left for me to do.

"Ginny understood. She'd had a personal vendetta against him ever since he almost killed her in her first year. When we got married, I think we both realized that we had a chance, then, to make our lives whatever we wanted. So we decided we wanted to be Aurors, and parents, and now that's what we are, and it's getting better."

Dudley was stunned. He had to admit: he had never thought about what it must have been like for Harry after the war. He had always assumed that Harry would be off doing something wonderful, amazing, magical, while he was still slogging his way through muggle school and trying to please his parents. He had never considered that Harry might have been having as hard a time as he was.

"And… what about you?" The waitress came with their drinks, and Harry took a long sip. "How is everything?"

Fine. Amazing. Terrible. Everything? Dudley didn't know where to start.

"I told my parents," he said. "About Clarence."

Harry stared, solemn. "How'd they take it?"

"It couldn't have possibly gone any worse."

Dudley put his head in his hands. Harry swallowed awkwardly. "Sorry, mate," he said. "That's… that's hard."

"Yeah." Dudley sighed. "Didn't really help that Clarence slipped up and let on that he was a wizard halfway through."

Harry sucked in a breath. "God."

"Yeah, I know."

"Can't imagine that went over well."

"Remember how mad Vernon was at you when you accidentally blew up Aunt Marge?" Dudley asked. "Well, it was a bit like that, except he was redder."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah."

They went silent for a while. The waitress brought their pasties and they each gave her a few sickles, and Dudley decided he'd rather not think about his parents anymore.

"It's not all going bad," he said, scratching his neck. "There's actually, well. I mean, there's something else going on in my life right now that's pretty nice."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

Dudley closed his eyes for a second, remembering Clarence's face that day – remembering the moment when he said yes. "Well, I'm getting married."

Harry choked on his pasty. He coughed for a few seconds, downed his hacking with a swig of butterbeer, and looked back up with the beginnings of a grin. "You're serious?"

"Yeah. I proposed to him last week. Said yes, of course."

"Dudley, that's…" Harry shook his head, grinning wildly. "That's amazing."

"Bit terrifying, too."

"Oh god, I know the feeling. I was engaged too once, remember?"

"But mostly it's just brilliant." Dudley was smiling, and maybe blushing a bit, although he couldn't tell. "I told my students I was getting married and they're all so excited about it. All my coworkers, too. It's like the first time in my life everyone around me's been happy for me."

"I'm happy for you, too," Harry said, and Dudley blinked, because that was the first time Harry had said anything like that in all the months they'd been talking. Dudley could tell that he meant it. He's happy for me.

"Harry…" Dudley flicked a crumb off the table, suddenly unsure of himself. This was the thing he's been meaning to ask Harry (the entire reason he planned this get-together) but he never knew how his cousin would respond. He figured he'd better just get it out. "Would you… come to my wedding?"

Silence fell again. Harry looked only slightly stunned – mostly just confused – and Dudley swallowed. He had never been sure where they stood these days. Sure, they talked and didn't seem to hate each other anymore… but would Harry even want to come?

"You…" Harry blinked and looked down. "You want me there?"

That took Dudley by surprise. "Of course I want you there. You're family."

Harry made a weird choking noise, which was pretty awkward sounding, but accurately encompassed what Dudley was feeling at the moment.

"What about your parents?" Harry asked. "They're family too."

Dudley shut his eyes. "No they're not. Not anymore, they're not."

"But you… really want me to come."

"Yeah." Dudley tried to look inviting (he didn't really know how that should look). "Bring your whole family, if you want. They're all invited. And those friends of yours, Ron and Hermione, right? I'd like to meet them. They could come too, if they wanted."

Harry stared at his drink for a few long seconds. Dudley started to panic. When he realized Harry was shaking gently, he started to panic more.

Then Harry looked up, and Dudley realized that what he'd thought was crying was just soft, silent laughter.

"We'll be there," Harry said, and his eyes were tired and bagged and his lips were thin but his face was soft and Dudley hadn't ever seen that look directed at him before, not once in his life, not from Harry Potter, and suddenly things seemed a bit better. "We'll all be there, Dudley. I promise."

Years disappeared in seconds.

•••

Dudley had said he was going to be home around noon, but Clarence figured he'd probably be later. It didn't matter. They both had the day off, so Clarence was just doing housework and some light reading until his fiancée came back from the shopping.

After switching out loads of laundry (Dudley insisted that the washing machine did it far better than Clarence's spells ever could) the doorbell rang. As Clarence walked over to get it, he wondered which salesperson or charity collector it would be today. He opened the door.

Petunia Dursley grimaced nervously.

Clarence froze. For far too long a time, both of them were still, staring at the other as if either one of them might explode. Clarence's hand inched back towards the wand in his pocket.

Then Petunia said, "Um. Is Dudley home?"

Clarence shook himself out of his statue state. "Er. Not. Not… yet. No. He's out."

"Oh." Petunia turned as if to leave, but changed her mind and turned back. She seemed almost terrified of Clarence, but it wasn't the type of terror he would have expected. It was a guilty kind of terror – the kind when your teacher's about to find out that you didn't actually do your homework last night. "When will he get back?" she asked.

Still stunned, Clarence looked at his watch. "Um. Any minute now, I think."

"Do you…" Petunia sighed and put her head in her hand, blinking fast. "I don't suppose you… would you mind if I waited for him here?"

Stunned as he was, Clarence was far too polite to say no.

"I… suppose so." He blinked too quickly, making his eyes water, and stepped back to allow Dudley's mother to walk into their living room.

She stood awkwardly, fidgeting far too much. She looked as if she might be sick. "Do you mind if I…"

"No, no, go ahead. Please sit down." Clarence nodded at the couch, and she sat. Suddenly, he was immensely glad that he had spent the entire morning cleaning.

Petunia sat.

The clock ticked from the hallway and neither one of them moved. Clarence coughed, and Petunia jumped as if there had been a gunshot. She glanced at him and quickly looked away. They went back to being still.

"I'll, er…" Clarence fumbled in his pocket for his phone. "I'll send him a text. See when he'll be back."

Petunia eyed him. "I didn't know you used phones."

Clarence raised an eyebrow. "Me, personally?"

She pursed her lips. "Wizards."

Clarence opened his mouth and shut it again. "Yeah, of course we do." She had said the word in this strange way, as if it ought to taste bad in her mouth, but didn't. It was akin to someone trying broccoli for the first time after avoiding it all their childhood and finding that it wasn't so bad after all.

He sent Dudley a text. Petunia watched his every move.

He cleared his throat again. "Would you, um, like, er, something to drink, perhaps?"

She seemed surprised at the offer. "I. Yes, please."

Clarence went to the kitchen, still in a daze. Absentmindedly, he flicked his wand and sent the water pitcher floating over to a clean glass. As the water poured, he realized that he was still standing in full view of Mrs. Dursely, whose face was contorted into a strange expression incorporating a slightly open mouth and a clenched jaw. He swallowed and grabbed the glass out of the air, bringing it over to where she sat.

"There you go," he said, and sat back in one of the other chairs without realizing that he had done it.

She paused for a long time, staring at the glass as if it might sprout wings. "Thank you, Cl… Cl…"

"Clarence."

"Yes." She took a timid sip.

Clarence watched her.

She said, "What is it you do?"

His pulse quickened. He hadn't expected this – was this the beginning of a conversation? Was she interrogating him? "I'm a librarian," he said.

Petunia raised an eyebrow. "A… librarian?"

"Yes."

She kept her eyebrow raised. "At some… some wizard library, I presume."

"No, I work at the London Library."

Petunia studied him in the same, silent way she'd been doing. Clarence couldn't tell for the life of him what she was thinking.

"And how did you…" She paused, taking a breath. "How did you meet Dudley?"

Clarence was awfully fond of the memory. "He was at the library. I checked him out."

Petunia's lip curled.

"I check out his book," he clarified.

Her face returned to normal. She took another sip of water. "And… how did you start… well."

"Going out?"

"That. Yes."

"Well." Clare took his hand off his wand, finally accepting that Petunia wasn't about to suddenly attack him. "He came to the library very often. We became good friends. After a while, I dunno… we both fancied each other so we went on a date, and then another one, and we both liked it quite a bit so we kept it up. Then after a couple years-ish we moved into together, and a year after that Dudley asked me to marry him. There isn't a whole lot of a story to tell about it."

Petunia's forehead creased, and she seemed lost for words. "That's all?"

"Well, yeah."

"There's… nothing else that happened?"

"Well… not really?"

"But…" Petunia stuttered. "But it's so… so… ordinary."

Clarence raised an eyebrow. "What were you expecting it to be?"

"I don't know." She put her head in her hands. Clarence couldn't see her face. "I don't know. I expected it to be… something."

"Weird?" Clarence suggested. "Dark homosexual magic mating rituals?"

"I…"

"Well, it really wasn't." Clarence didn't know what to make of her. "Sorry to disappoint. We're just your average boring couple, really."

"But how…" Petunia shook her head. "How could you do it? How did you make him… make him…"

Something clicks. "Make him gay?" Clarence finished.

She flinched at the sound of the word.

"Mrs. Dursley, you need to understand something." Clarence was surprised at the edge in his voice. "I didn't make him anything. Dudley has always been gay. If you and your husband blinded yourselves to that for all these years, then that's your problem." Her head sunk further into her hands. "Trust me, your son was in relationships with a lot of men before he was ever in love with me."

She let out a small noise that Clarence couldn't name, but sounded borderline miserable. When she picked up her head, he was horrified to see that her eyes had turned red and watery.

"Why did he never tell me?" she whispered, hoarse.

Clarence couldn't speak for a moment. "He was afraid," he said. The edge still hadn't gone out of his voice. This was the woman who caused the love of his life such pain – how couldn't he be angry with her? "And I think, if you remember what happened a couple months ago, you can understand why he might have been afraid."

Petunia choked off a sob.

"My son…" She closed her eyes, and a single tear found its way over her wrinkled cheek. "My own son."

Clarence was about to retort, but that was when he heard the front door open.

Petunia immediately sat up, wiping the tear from her eye. Clarence shot to his feet as they listened to someone shuffling over the threshold.

"Clarence, you there?" they heard Dudley call. "I could use some help with these groceries."

Clarence ran to the front hall to see his fiancée laden down with shopping bags. Dudley put them on the ground and started to turn. "Mind putting these away? I've got another load to bring in."

"Your mother's here," Clarence whispered.

Dudley froze.

"What?" he whispered back.

"Sitting room."

Clarence wished he didn't have to see the contortion of emotions that passed over Dudley's face just then.

"Why?" Dudley pleaded.

"She wants to see you."

Dudley said nothing.

"I'll get the rest of the groceries," Clarence whispered. "If anything goes wrong… well, you know how the protection charms work. I won't be too far away."

Clarence gave him a quick kiss and disappeared out the front door.

Dudley was left alone.

After swallowing so much of his own saliva that he started to feel nauseous (or maybe it really was just the nerves) he made his way to the sitting room. His mother was sitting there.

He stood in the doorway. He said nothing.

"Dudley," his mother said.

"Mum," he answered.

She watched him, and he tried to read her face. He couldn't.

"Would you… sit, Dudley?" She gestured at the chair across from her.

He bit his lip, stared at her for a moment, and sat gingerly.

"Dudley…"

He said nothing.

She pursed her lip. He had never seen her look so desperate. "I've been talking with… with your fiancée," she said finally.

Dudley raised an eyebrow. "You were talking with Clarence?"

"Yes."

"What did you talk about?"

"He told me… about how you met."

Dudley watched her. "And…?"

"And… that you've been with a lot of men before you were with him."

Dudley's breath caught in his throat.

"Have you, Dudley?" He was horrified to hear her voice breaking.

"Yes," he answered. His hand clenched into a fist. "And if you've come here to tell me how disgusting you think that is, then–"

"You never told me."

Dudley stared. "What?"

His mother looked broken. She looked as if a giant pair of hands had wrung her like a towel and smashed her onto the ground. "You were… this was a part of you for so long, and you never told me."

He swallowed. "I was afraid you wouldn't take it so well, Mum, and if I'm not mistaken, that's exactly what happened when–"

"I made you afraid," she continued, and this time she really was crying. Dudley watched a stream of tears make their way down her cheeks. "Oh, god, Dudley. I did this to you. I was so unaccepting of who you were, you had to hide from me. My own son. It's my fault you had to lie to me, my fault, oh god it's all my fault."

She let go of everything. Dudley had always thought of his mother as relatively well-composed, so it was more than a bit disturbing to see her completely break down. But she did, and Dudley watched as she poured out salty torrents into her hands.

"Mum…" he said, but couldn't finish. His brain couldn't register what was happening.

"My son," she choked out again. "Dudley. Dudley, my baby boy, I am so sorry."

Suddenly, Dudley understood what was happening.

Before he even told his body to move, he had crossed the room and seated himself next to her. She collapsed into his shoulder, and he let him. Her shuddering sobs vibrated through him.

"Really?" he whispered.

Petunia choked back her last sobs and sniffed. "I wouldn't have come here if I didn't mean it."

This was true. As she recovered, he picked up an arm and put it around her shoulder. She felt so small and frail underneath his muscled arms. He could hardly believe this woman was his mother.

She sniffed for a while more. Dudley stared at the carpet, heart racing. She apologized. For the first time in the months since the altercation had happened, he allowed himself to feel hope.

Then she said, "I left Vernon."

Dudley stared at her. "What?"

"It started after you… after, you know." She sat up, straightening herself. "Vernon never wanted to see you again. He'd get mad at me if I even mentioned you. He said you were a disappointment. I didn't think so, though."

"You didn't?"

She looked at Dudley, and she looked so heartbroken he didn't know what to do. "I never thought you were a disappointment."

His heart fluttered. "Okay… so what happened?"

"We started fighting. We'd been fighting for a long time, of course, but things got so much worse. I still loved you and I couldn't believe the things he was saying about you. He called you some awful things, Dudley." She saw the look on his face. "Don't ask me to repeat them."

"I won't."

"Anyway." She sniffed again. "I didn't know what to do. I loved you so much, and I realized that I must have been wrong about something. I had never trusted you to make your own decisions, but I thought… I thought maybe it was time I did.

"So one day, I told him that if you weren't going to be his son anymore, then I wasn't going to be his wife anymore either."

Dudley blinked. "What did he say?"

"He argued, at first." She shook her head. "He wanted me to stay and hate you with him. But it was a long time coming. Ever since the last time we saw Harry, our relationship has been falling apart. I'm glad to be rid of him."

Dudley felt his throat closing as tears threatened to overwhelm him. He squeezed his mother's shoulder, and she smiled timidly.

"So you don't hate me?" he asked.

"How could I?" she answered.

They fell into silence. Dudley could hear Clarence around the corner, putting the groceries away. He never thought he'd get to see something like this: mother in one room, boyfriend in the other. It was extraordinary.

He thought there was something he ought to say.

"June twentieth," he said. "If you'd like to come."

Petunia raised an eyebrow.

"The wedding," he clarified.

She let out a small sound he couldn't name, and her face went soft.

"You'd want me there?" she asked.

Dudley closed his eyes and let the breath come through his teeth. "I want you there," he answered.

He had never seen his mother look so happy.

•••

Dudley had heard before from an assortment of other couples that the real point at which you feel married wasn't usually the vows. As Clarence took his arm and they walked back down the aisle between all the folding chairs spread over the lawn, he could see what they meant. He was thrilled, and Clarence seemed equally thrilled, and everyone was cheering and that was wonderful, but it was true – he didn't feel married yet. It was as if his brain hadn't fully registered that Clarence's status had shifted from boyfriend to husband yet. He wondered when that point would be, and eagerly awaited it.

They posed for pictures and everyone threw confetti, and of course they had invited a good amount of people (god, Clare's family was huge), but Dudley hadn't been able to picture in his mind yet just how many people were there. He looked around in awe as the photographer shot him with Clare, and with the best man, and so on and so forth, completely amazed at how many people had shown up.

There were the customary introductions as the reception began. Parents meeting parents, friends meeting friends, and cousins meeting cousins. Harry had been true to his word – he had brought his wife and all three of his children, along with Ron, Hermione, and all of their kids. They all seemed chuffed to meet Dudley (Hermione and Clarence seemed to get on particularly well).

Petunia was in tears for the entire ceremony and spent much of the reception crying out things like "My little Duddy-kins!" which Dudley didn't mind at all. For the first time in his life, he didn't find it embarrassing. Quite the opposite.

Many of both Dudley's and Clare's co-workers were present, which was also nice. Sally Gardner, a third-year teacher, got especially tipsy during the reception and had to be escorted off the dance floor before she did something rash. Clare's boss, they discovered, was a truly excellent break-dancer.

The food was slightly sub-par and the settings were underwhelming, but the band was great and everyone at least seemed to be having a nice time. No amount of wedding planning could have prepared Dudley for how much he enjoyed himself that night. Wizards and muggles all celebrated his marriage under the same tent. Harry's children met their great aunt for the first time. Hermione and Clare exchanged numbers, and Dudley discovered that he and Ron shared a favorite quidditch team.

Dudley was in a daze through it all. He kept waiting for the feeling of marriage to hit him, but all through the eating/dancing/drinking/chatting, the moment never happened.

It came a week later. They were making arrangements for the honeymoon (highly boring arrangements) when Dudley looked at Clarence and Clarence looked at Dudley and both of them thought, exactly at the same moment, oh god, this man is my husband.

Dudley dropped the bag of toiletries he was packing into their suitcase. He stepped over the pile of clothes on the floor and grabbed onto Clare's shirt. Clare wrapped his arms around his shoulders and Dudley buried his face into his neck.

As Dudley held on, gripping 'til his knuckles turned pink, Clarence hummed a song Dudley hadn't heard in a while. He let himself fall into it. It felt like he'd been holding his breath all his life and was finally letting it out.

"I did it," he sighed – and he had.

•

Grow the roses! Grow the roses!

Grow the roses of success! Oh yes!

Grow the roses! Grow the roses!

From the ashes of disaster grow the roses of success!