While You Slept

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How can they hear the truth above the roar?

-Chicago, The Musical

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"Don't kill Cedric!"

Dudley lay awake in his bedroom, only two doors down the dank hallway. His piggy eyes searched the ceiling for any sign of sleep, except that he knew, like all the nights before, sleep wouldn't come. It wasn't the long panes of moonlight casting itself across the bedroom, nor the branches swaying outside in the summer's breeze. It was never the open closet, with dark shadows of clothing that liked to ensnare your fears and make you believe that the twisted shadows were something more evil. It was never that.

It was always Harry.

Harry's door was always shut, and more often than not, locked. It didn't usually bother Dudley much. What use could he have for a freak of a cousin that his mum and dad obviously thought deserved such harsh treatment? He was abnormal, a waste of air. And it was because of him that Dudley felt that his whole family was in danger. In danger because of the scrawny almost sixteen-year-old that lay down the hallway and in a terrified state of nightmare. Why would so many people want to kill him?

Dudley pretended the thought had no meaning to him. It wasn't as if he cared for his cousin or anything. It didn't matter to him at all if Harry were to die in his sleep. Dudley merely excused it away as a curious sort of a thought. As to why people would be so intent on making the teenage boy disappear from this world. Dudley was sure that he certainly had never done anything bad enough to be killed. He vaguely wondered what kinds of things Harry had managed to lean about at that freak school of his.

"Mum, come help me fight him. Dad. You and Mum. Help me."

Dudley shifted in his bed again as another sound escaped from Harry's room. Harry's parents... how much did he know about them? They were freaks, of course. Just like Harry. But Harry's mum... she had been his mum's sister. His aunt had grown up with Lily. Dudley was sure that Harry didn't know about the photographs of his Mum's wedding. Lily had been a bridesmaid. The maid of honor, although Dudley suspected that Grandma Evans had put Mum up to it.

Sleep far from his mind, Dudley also thought about what kind of people would want to kill Harry. It was a morbid thought, but Dudley very quickly told himself that he was tired. So tired that he actually cared about his cousin. Very tired and very confused.

"No, don't kill him! Please don't kill him."

Dudley vaguely remembered Harry mentioning something about someone when he had come home. It had been odd, this past summer. Usually Harry was quiet, but generally in a good mood once they got to the house. He knew that part of the joy came from being the only wizard in a house full of Muggles, but this summer was different. As soon as they got home Harry had dragged his trunk up to his room and had stayed in there for almost a week. No one else in the house seemed to notice, except Dudley, who missed nicking pieces of food off of his plate.

Had someone died while Harry was at school?

"Voldermort."

Did Voldermort kill whoever it was? Was Voldermort trying to kill Harry?

He vaguely remembered something, back from years ago... he must have been nine. Some batty old woman had grabbed Harry's shoulder in a women's clothing store. Mum was changing in the rooms in the back, so only Dudley was witness to the event.

"You're Harry Potter," the old woman had croaked, looking astonished at facing a nine year old Harry, whose eyes were wide with shock.

"Um, yeah," he murmured.

"I'll bet you're a lucky bloke, surviving Voldermort and all... bless your soul. And your parents, so brave, they were," she crooned. Dudley remembered being more taken with the fact that the lady knew about Harry than the fact that he ought to go and run and tell his mum about it. It was a sure way to get Harry in trouble for ages.

"What about my parents?" Harry asked, his eyes now desperate. "How do you know about me? How do you know about them?"

Before the witch had answered, Aunt Petunia had come out of the back, horrified to see the strange woman so close to her Dudley.

"Get away from them," she shrieked, clutching the large handbag as if it would make a suitable weapon against such a woman. The lady had merely released Harry and looked Petunia once over.

"Muggle," she scoffed, before walking away.

Voldermort... Harry had survived.

Dudley's thoughts ran in frantic circles, knowing he could piece the puzzle together. He had always thought Harry's parents had died in a car crash...

Harry had survived Voldermort once before... when he was a baby.

Yes, Dudley was fairly certain that Voldermort was the one trying to kill Harry. He was almost positive.

"Please, don't kill Cedric. No... help me mum."

And Voldermort must have killed Cedric. The only question was... who was Cedric?

Taking a deep breath and debating his options, Dudley happened to glance at the digital clock in his bedroom, resting on the desk above his computer. The large neon green numbers were glowing 3:45 AM. If Harry didn't stop talking, Dudley was sure he was never going to get to sleep. And he had to stop thinking about his cousin so much.

Why now, when he had been living in the same house with him for almost his whole life? He had grown up with Harry and not even bothered to find out what his favorite color was. He had always been around.

Just Harry.

Why did he start to care now?

Dudley repeated this question over to himself as he slowly lifted himself from his large double bed, careful not to make a sound as his feet touched the floor. His dad would surely kill him if he found out what the hell he was doing. Dudley was still confused as to what he was doing himself, but he quietly opened his room door and waddled into the dark hallway.

The house was quiet, save the noises that his dad was making as he snored in his sleep. His parent's room door was shut, and the occasional whimper of pain came from Harry's room, where the door was open just enough. Dudley told himself for the umpteenth time it was merely curiosity as he stepped to the door and pushed it open.

He had never been in Harry's room, and was fascinated for a second at how starkly it contrasted with his own. While his was full to the brim with all sorts of electronic toys and games and computers, Harry's was completely devoid of anything of the sort. He had an owl cage, where Harry's bird, quite pretty in Dudley's option, slept. A large caldron sat at the foot of his bed. Dudley couldn't remember ever seeing it before and vaguely wondered if his dad or mum knew that there was such a thing in their house. Pendants and banners of different colors were on his wall, including a small one of what seemed to be a lion that roared with the words 'Go Gryffindor' painted on it.

Vaguely wondering what Gryffindor was, Dudley turned his attention to the sleeping boy. Tangled in bed sheets, his pajama shirt half buttoned down, his forehead drenched in sweat. His glasses lie on his nightstand and Dudley was quizzically shocked to see how he looked without them. The scar stood out, prominent against his forehead. It looked raw and blistering, although Dudley was sure that Harry had it the whole time he lived with them.

"Don't... kill... Cedric..." came the strangled cry as Harry, eyes still closed, wrestled with his bed covers, his face screwed up in one of grim determination and fear. How did this Voldermort guy kill Cedric? And Harry watched?

Dudley felt very stupid, standing in Harry's room, realizing how much space he really did take up. Walking a bit closer to Harry's bedside, he intently studied his cousin's face for the first time. Then came the sickening realization that he had been living with a stranger for fourteen years. All Harry had ever been to him was a punching bag.

"Wormtail, you betrayed my parents. You betrayed Sirius!" came the almost violent cry from Harry as he clutched his arm in the crook. Dudley wondered if they had caught him too. It was then that he noticed a small white scar on the inside of his arm. They cut him?

Suddenly a small rustling noise from Harry's owl cage startled Dudley. Looking over, he saw the white owl, Harriet or Helga or something, was looking at him skeptically, with large yellow eyes. Dudley felt uncomfortable about this bird. It was looking at him suspiciously, as if she knew what he was to Harry. A big pain in the life that Harry spent away from the freak world. A bully.

"It's alright," Dudley whispered, scared that she might wake up Harry, then the whole house, and he would be faced with the problem of trying to explain to his dad what he was doing in Harry's room at four o' clock in the morning. The owl, Dudley hadn't bothered to think of what its name was, merely blinked at him for a moment. Dudley and the owl stared at each other for a while, before the owl went to preening herself, and Dudley let out a sigh of relief.

The air was humid and hot as Harry started to mumble things again. This time, almost quietly. "Don't cut me... don't bleed. Cedric, come back with me. Your parents want your body," urgently whispered. Dudley went over to Harry's bed, and without thinking, sat on the end of it, causing it to slump forward with his weight. He couldn't describe how he felt, looking at his cousin in so much pain, so much suffering.

Hesitating for only a second, Dudley began to sing a lullaby that his mum used to sing to him when he was smaller. He still remembered being five or so, sitting in bed while his mum gently ran her fingers through his hair and across the back of his neck. Every so often, Dudley would look up from his spot in his bed and see a tuft of Harry's black hair duck behind the doorframe as his mother sang.

"When daffodils began to peer, when heigh the doxy over the dale," Dudley sang in an almost whisper, mildly surprised that Harry's facial expression began to relax. Dudley just looked at his clasped hands in his lap while he sang. He sang the song many times over, not bothering to count.

"The lark that tirilichants when heigh, the sweet birds, oh how they sing," he sang, watching Harry sleep peacefully. He had never told on Harry for being out of his cupboard and sitting by the doorframe, listening to Mum sing the songs to him. He had always been content, knowing that his mum truly loved him best. That a skinny nobody like Harry didn't matter.

And now he was sitting on the nobody's bed while he slept, realizing for the first time, that maybe he did matter. Dudley sighed and stood up, causing the bed to bounce back slightly. He tiredly peered out of the window. It was almost dawn and faint pink strips were beginning to cross the sky. Sighing, he turned and was almost out of the door before he heard a tired and half mumbled phrase coming out of Harry's mouth.

"Thanks Dudley."

Dudley sharply turned, his eyes scanning Harry's face for any sign of awareness, and found none. He was sleeping quietly, a look odd deep peace across his face. Dudley let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Any time, Harry," he muttered, walking out of the room. "Any time."

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FIN

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