A/N: Nothing plot-heavy, no terribly deep characterizations...very light. Takes place during the month Harry is home before the Dursleys go into protective custody in the final book.

WARNING: There will be lemons. If you can't abide the idea of cousins having sex then stop reading. You've been warned. I don't want to hear crap about how wrong this is. If you've read despite the warnings, that means you wanted to see the lemons.

And so marks my debut into the Harry Potter fandom.

Beta: Blood Zephyr

In The Dark

Chapter 1

"Avada Kadavra!"

NOOOO!

"Harry. Harry!"

Harry jerked awake with a gasp of relief, returning to reality with a shudder. He sat with his sheet pooled around his waist, blinking fuzzily at the blurred digital readout of his clock before remembering.

That nightmare was his reality.

One that was admittedly a week in the past, but a reality nonetheless. Seeing Dumbledore's murder every night in his dreams didn't make it any less real. Just the opposite, in fact.

"Harry?"

He nearly jumped from the bed entirely, startled horribly by the hulking shape by his side. How had he missed seeing him?! "Dudley? Blimey, what the hell are you doing in here?"

His large cousin could be seen shrugging uncomfortably. "You were screaming again. And Dad said if he had to listen to one more night of your caterwauling-"

"Right, I get it," Harry said testily. He scrambled off the bed. Dudley's looming bulk was intimidating enough without the added insecurity of looking up at him from a sitting position. "What I don't get is why you care enough to be in my bloody room."

Dudley moved, crossing the room to Harry's bedroom door. "Sorry," he mumbled. He let himself out quietly.

The entire encounter left Harry feeling as if he hadn't quite woken up from the nightmare after all. He had to give himself a shake as he crawled back into bed.

Uncle Vernon's snores could be heard from down the hall. Harry pulled the sheet up to his chin as he lay back down with a sigh. At least he'd woken up from the nightmare this time. Frequently he circled within his dream until sunlight woke him in the mornings, his body drenched in sweat and his head aching. He supposed he should have been grateful to Dudley for waking him, but having the bloke in his room at night like that was almost as bad as the dream.

He didn't interact with the Dursleys overmuch if he could help it. This worked out well; they hated him, he hated them and to be perfectly honest, he didn't want to have to put up with their nonsense while he was grieving for Dumbledore. He kept to his room unless driven from it by hunger pains.

This was the case the next day, when he'd waited until he heard Uncle Vernon and his aunt climbing into the car to go to some function or other. They no longer bothered to warn him with dire consequences whenever they left him alone. He waited an hour, reading the issue of the Daily Prophet an owl had brought that morning.

The day was another scorcher. Harry's t-shirt stuck to him wetly as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He froze, seeing Dudley at the counter, sandwich meats spread before him.

"Thought you went out with your mum and dad?" Harry did not fancy an afternoon with his cousin in the house.

Dudley didn't turn around, carefully arranging lettuce in the two sandwiches before him. "Didn't feel like it."

Harry shrugged. He went to the fridge and bent, inspecting the contents. There was nothing but leftovers of last night's roast and tart Aunt Petunia had told him and Dudley both specifically not to touch. He straightened with a can of Pepsi, closing the fridge door hard. He eyed Dudley's two sandwiches enviously.

He was just considering threatening his cousin for one when Dudley turned and set a huge sandwich at either end of the small kitchen table. He glanced at Harry with an expression the wizard couldn't immediately identify. It almost looked… sheepish. Harry was immediately suspicious. He gestured at the sandwich meant for him as Dudley sat down to his.

"Did you spit in mine, Dudders?"

"No."

"Used bogeys in place of mayonnaise?"

"No, you prat. I just thought you might be hungry."

"And since when have you ever cared for my well-being, Duddykins? I really can't be arsed with any of your pranks today, yeah? Got enough on my plate without your stupidity." He swigged from the can.

"Since you saved my life."

Harry nearly choked. He watched his burly cousin sitting down to calmly eat his sandwich, as if he hadn't just stood sixteen years' worth of raging animosity between them on its head. He went to the other sandwich slowly, staring all the while at his silent cousin.

A lot of his fat had transformed to muscle with his new regime. He knew his cousin lifted weights and such. Wasn't too long ago his lunch would have consisted of several slices of cake, half a dozen bags of crisps and a large two-liter bottle of cola all for himself. A far cry from the large, healthy sandwich and glass of water he was eating now. Harry had only been home a few days, not long enough to see a personality adjustment in his cousin, if one had occurred. Last summer he'd barely interacted with Dudley at all besides the Dementor incident. Impossible as the idea was, maybe the blighter really had changed. He sat down and reached for the sandwich.

He peeked inside it cautiously, anyway. Finding nothing but fresh slices of tomato, lettuce, onions and cheese, all piled on juicy slices of ham, he took a bite. It was delicious. He took three more huge bites before he could stop himself, suddenly starving.

"Duds, mate," Harry swallowed, wiped mustard from the corner of his mouth and sucked it from his thumb. "This is fantastic." He paused, waiting to see if his cousin would make a smart remark. Dudley only gave a slow nod, still eating, still not looking at Harry. "Thanks," he added.

A pickle had been laid next to the sandwich. Harry bit into it now as he idly stared at the way Dudley's thin vest clung to his skin in sweaty patches. He was surprised. Aunt Petunia normally wouldn't allow her ickle Diddydums to walk around so unclothed. She said only common people did that. The blonde's arms were starting to become defined as biceps and strong forearms instead of just meaty appendages. Dudley finished and rinsed his dishes. He left Harry alone in the kitchen, without saying another word.

***

Later that evening he heard his aunt and uncle laying into his cousin the way he'd always secretly longed for them to. Apparently their precious, perfect son had failed most of his GCSEs. Uncle Vernon screamed himself hoarse about the shame of Dudley re-sitting them. The row lasted a good hour, with Dudley finally shouting back. Harry heard his booming footfalls shake the hall as he stormed up to his room. A second later his door slammed hard enough to rattle the house. Harry cracked his own bedroom door open as uncle Vernon came huffing up after his son, pounding on Dudley's door. "Open this ruddy door or you'll be sorry!"

Harry could scarce believe the tables had so neatly been turned. What planet was he on? Dudley feeding him and angering his parents? The world had gone mad. Uncle Vernon turned to see Harry's green eye peering at him and he hastily shut the door lest he incur some of the man's wrath.

He had a hard time falling asleep that night, his mind turning with loads of fascinating new stimuli. When he did manage it, he dreamed almost immediately.

The graveyard. Cedric fell dead at his feet then rose and chased him, saying Harry should have saved him.

The graveyard gave way to a forest where it seemed Nagini hung from every tree and every incarnation of the snake had Harry's face, complete with scar and glasses. The snakes hissed, but Harry understood clearly. 'Kill… kill them all…" And Cedric still chased him, his rotting face grotesque.

The forest gave way to the Department of Mysteries. Sirius fell through the curtain-

-and popped from the other side, grinning. He was dead.

In the short time he'd been behind the curtain, his face and limbs had putrefied to a gooey mess that was unbearable to look at. Harry felt his heart break afresh at seeing his godfather die, at witnessing how unrecognizable his handsome features became. 'I died for you, Harry. Just like Cedric'. And he took up the chase with the dead boy, shambling after Harry, intent on giving him an eternal embrace.

The Department of Mysteries became Harry's old home. He saw his baby self standing in his crib, crying, reaching for his mum. His parents stood aside and let Voldemort blast him with the killing curse. Grown Harry screamed, reaching for a wand he didn't have. Voldemort killed his unresisting parents. He turned his pale, reptilian face towards grown Harry. Harry knew he didn't stand a chance without his mum's protection. No wand either… Harry turned and ran, picking up Cedric and Sirius again on the way, who were in turn joined by Lily and James and baby Harry.

Hogwarts. Harry knew what was coming, tried to run anywhere but towards the astronomy tower but it was hopeless. He was harried by the dead, by his past.

"Avada Kadavra!"

But Harry was at the bottom of the tower, there when Dumbledore landed, there to see him haul his broken body up and point a crooked finger at Harry's stricken face. "I-I'm sorry, professor," he stammered. "So sorry… I-I wanted to save you, but I- I just couldn't!"

Dumbledore chased him. They all chased him. They accused him and chased him until Harry found himself alone in the graveyard. Cedric fell dead at his feet-

***

"No! Please, I'm sorry-"

"Harry, snap out of it!"

The heavy hand shook him so forcefully that Harry was very nearly pushed from his bed. He came awake reluctantly, the dream trying to hold him under. He grabbed the thick arm that was shaking him to keep from falling from the bed. " 'M up, stop shakin' me." The arm stopped.

His stomach hurt. Harry realized this when he pushed himself shakily to a sitting position. It hurt a lot and his throat was tight with the guilt and grief he lived with. A shuddery sigh escaped him. His cousin's hand on him was warm… a comfort. He didn't immediately tell Dudley to remove it, sitting with his head bowed. He didn't move to wipe his tears, either, since the action would call attention to them. He didn't want Dudley to see him crying.

Dudley knew anyway. "You all right, mate?"

"Just… leave me alone. I'm fine."

Dudley stood where he was, looking down on his cousin's bent head. He didn't leave, but he did drop his hand. The room was dark, only faint light seeping through the window from the street lamps outside. Harry's clock said 1:01 am. After a moment he went and sat gingerly on the end of Harry's bed. Harry did not look up or protest.

Until last summer, he'd have been happy if his thin, abnormal cousin just dropped dead. When those Dementors had come, though…

Dudley supposed that he'd never really considered Harry's world to be real or, if it was, that it carried nothing more dangerous than the giant bastard who'd put a pig's tail on his arse or those red-haired people who'd come for Harry two summers ago. But last year he'd learned differently and if he was honest with himself, Harry had been looking a bit off color since the end of his fourth year at that school he went to. He still remembered the name, from all those letters that had come for him. Hogwarts. Whatever had been going on in Hogwarts the past two years was taking a toll on Harry. Dudley could see it. Were Dementors the sorts of things Harry faced all term? Hadn't there been mention of someone, Lord Something-or-other, who wanted Harry dead? The same someone who'd killed his parents? It was no wonder he couldn't sleep. What went on with him when he wasn't in Privet Drive??

Last summer, he'd thought it the height of funny the way his usurping cousin cried out at night, calling for someone named Cedric. Now, though, it just made him feel bad. Sometimes he heard Harry crying in his sleep, calling names of people Dudley didn't always know, but always the same names. Sometimes it was Harry's parents, sometimes the boy Cedric, whoever he was, or that criminal Sirius, who'd been on the telly.

Not that he'd admit it, but it hurt him to see Harry so obviously tortured by whatever went on at his mysterious school. He'd spent all this term away from home remembering what had happened out by the park last summer. How cold it had gotten, how the Dementors had nearly killed him. And how Harry, despite all Dudley had done to him, had saved him. He'd seen what Harry had done. He kept seeing it.

He'd gotten home a few days ago to find Harry more withdrawn than ever. Piers and the gang had been around to see if Dudley was up for a bit of fun, their usual summer pursuits. Dudley had shocked them by saying no, casting a glance at where Harry lounged on the grass. Piers in particular had had a load of vile things to say.

He didn't have a definite plan in place… just that he didn't want to fight Harry anymore. He still disliked the bastard, the way he always seemed to ruin what would otherwise have been a perfectly acceptable existence in the Dursley household. But his face… his face held such misery when he thought no one was looking. And the screams at night, those agonized screams. Dudley could tell his parents were disturbed by them, fearful that whatever had caused them would find their nephew in Privet Drive and finish what it started, perhaps sucking the Dursleys in as well. They counted the days until Harry left again.

He watched Harry squeezing his eyes shut now, trying to eradicate the tears without actually touching his face. It was strange, really, how the dark room kept out all the heavy weight of their violent history. This wasn't the boy he hated and bullied unmercifully every chance he got. It was Harry, someone in pain, and him wishing he knew what caused it. Dudley had never before felt empathy for anyone but himself. It came to him now, ghostly as the light from the street lamps, making his voice soft and surreal, in accord with the atmosphere of the small dark room. "What happened to you?"

It was understood, by both boys, that the real question was 'What hurt you so badly? What was done to you? Why are you so torn inside?'

It was with a sense of quivering wonder that Dudley saw Harry give a tiny coughing sob as fresh tears poured down his face. The face itself screwed into a tight expression, trying in vain to hold in the display. Now the hands did come up, but they didn't stop the tears or, when they came, the harsh barking sounds of Harry's crying.

It was stupid. So stupid, but unavoidable. He couldn't even remember ever losing it like this and he had to go and have his breakdown in front of Dudley of all people. Disgusting. Doubly so at his age.

Had he not discovered Dudley's human side today he might very well have kicked him out when he'd first woken up. The dream had stayed with him this time. It seemed to unlock the barred door in his soul that kept his turbulent emotions from spreading through his day to day life, giving freedom to his overwhelming sense of guilt and ignominy so that he'd been powerless to do anything but sit and let them rip him apart. Again. As they always did when he was alone.

The question was innocent enough. Profoundly so. It was this innocence from someone who was anything but, that destroyed the last of his flimsy control. That Dudley was capable of such obvious concern for him, Harry, was shocking enough, but not as much as his response to it. He'd thought any yearning he had for affection from the Dursleys had long ago withered to nothing. A brief flash of blinding gratitude at Dudley's honest question put paid to that belief. The gratitude dissolved in the tidal wave of grief that swept through him at thinking of all that had happened to him. It was the first time he'd ever seen himself as a victim. Which brought on a load of self-disgust. All he could do at that point was cover his face, shameful as that was. Maybe Dudley would cotton on to just how uncomfortable the situation was and leave.

He touched him. Dudley laid one meaty paw on one of Harry's forearms, brushing the tears that ran down it. He gripped the thin limb in his hand, pulling, perhaps trying to see Harry's face, but Harry refused to be seen. Dudley ended up pulling Harry's entire upper body because of this and somehow, impossibly, appallingly, Harry found himself surrounded in his cousin's beefy embrace. His forehead rested on Dudley's shoulder and, after a moment of numb disbelief, he felt the powerful arms close gently on his back. One boy needed the comfort, the other needed to be needed.

It was awful. It did not bear consideration, and so wasn't considered. By either of them.

It was felt, there in the dark room. The way the muscles and bulk that had so often hurt him were now supplying the best solace he'd ever received. The way the aloof, bespectacled cousin clung to him the way no one, not even his parents, had ever done. Some strange, fragile, breakable thing of unnamable beauty took shape in their chests, swelled there, trembling and translucent. It kept Harry from pulling away and Dudley from dropping his arms.

A broad hand came up to rest in the wild black hair and Harry sucked in a silent breath.

A/N: Originally supposed to be a oneshot. I have a few chapters planned, not many. If you weren't put off by this pairing or the story so far, pls drop a comment and share your thoughts :D Peace!