Entry tags:

*fic, character: dudley dursley, character: ginny weasley, community: rarepair_shorts, fandom: harry potter, genre: general, rating: g, ship: dudley/ginny

In Petunia's Petunias
Title: In Petunia's Petunias
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Dudley/Ginny
Prompt: challenge #7 (Dursleys) for rarepair_shorts
Rating: G
Word Count: 600
Summary: In which Ginny does some accidental magic.
Author's Notes: Yay for wee, nasty Dudders...

In Petunia's Petunias

Dudley Dursley was a very fat, very spoiled little boy, and by consequence, happened also to be very mean. And it is a privilege of very mean children that there is no one ever brave enough to be mean back. This was how Dudley had gained many of his friends, and many of his possessions—for he always got what he wanted from everybody. Who would dare to refuse him anything?

The answer to this question, incidentally, would be revealed the week before Dudley’s ninth birthday.

It was a hot day, and like many other very spoiled little boys before him, Dudley was lounging in the shade of his yard, clutching an ice cream cone in his thick hands. Ordinarily, he would not have enjoyed being outside on such a day, when the sun was far too bright for his liking, but he was fond of showing off; and there was a satisfyingly good chance that he would be seen by other little children who had neither the luxury of deep shade or chocolate ice cream.

He had only just begun to lick at the drips that ran along the side of the cone—slowly, of course, so that he could show off longer—when he heard a loud POP! come from somewhere near his mother’s flowerbeds. Dudley frowned. No one was allowed near those flowerbeds except Dudley’s mother herself. Anyone who disobeyed this rule—be it child or neighborhood cat—was subjected to Dudley, who would make certain that such an infraction would never again occur.

He struggled to his feet.

What he found, as he lumbered toward the flowerbeds, was a girl, sitting in the middle of a patch of petunias, looking rather dazed, as if she had not the faintest idea of what she was doing there. Upon Dudley’s approach, she glanced up quickly, and then smiled at him.

“Hullo!” she greeted, sounding somewhat nervous. She was quite small, and had extraordinarily red hair and a multitude of freckles. Dudley thought she was pretty, surely, but had hardly a care of such matters, instead determining to drive her away.

“You’re in Mummy’s flowers!” he declared.

She looked about her. “Oh.”

She did not move.

Dudley crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his feet planted firmly apart. The girl stared at him.

“What?” she demanded, suddenly seeming less friendly.

“You’re in Mummy’s—”

“Yeah, yeah, you said that already,” she interrupted. “I’m sure I’ll be gone in a minute.”

Dudley narrowed his beady eyes, suspicious. “Go, then.”

“No,” she said carefully. “I’ll go when I go.”

He decided upon a different approach, aware that he was running out of time—the ice cream was melting quickly now.

“You’ve got too many freckles,” he informed her loudly, “and your hair is ugly.”

“What?”

“Said you’re ugly,” he grunted. It was, of course, a lie, but he wanted to be rid of the girl as soon as possible.

She gaped at him for a moment, rising.

And then she slapped him.

Dudley staggered backward, his mouth hanging open in shock for a second before it began to tremble dangerously. His eyes filled with tears.

The girl tilted her head to one side, looking smug. The tips of her ears were pink.

“Well,” she said, “you’re a fat little Mummy’s boy. Better to have too many freckles than be exactly like—”

POP!

Dudley blinked. The girl was gone.

And with a sad sort of sound, familiar to those very fat, very spoiled little boys who have not got their way, his ice cream fell to the ground.