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katmarajadeTitle: A New Tradition: A Tale of Two Families
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katmarajade
Written for:songquake
Pairing: Dudley/Draco
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1214
Prompt: family tradition
Summary: Dudley and Draco visit their families for the holidays. It's hard to say which dinner is more awkward. Perhaps it's time for a new tradition.
Notes: I had such fun with these two. And the parents—hoo boy! :-D Thanks for such a fun prompt. It was great to get a chance to write Dudley again, having had to pass on Dudley Redeemed this round. I hope you enjoy it.
When Draco Malfoy met Dudley Dursley, he never imagined that the two of them would become friends, much less anything else. Pansy had dragged him out of the Manor, insisting that he needed to get out from the oppressive heaviness that permeated the place.
No longer amused by parties or crowds, Draco had sulked in a corner of the Christmas party until he ran into another blond bloke about his age, who was similarly avoiding the limelight.
They'd already been talking for over an hour before Draco realized that the bloke was not only a Muggle, but he was also the Muggle cousin of Draco's childhood nemesis, Harry Potter. But then Dudley cracked another dirty joke, and Draco couldn't help the laugh that burst out. It had been a long time since he'd been able to laugh.
Somehow the laughter drowned out the screaming voices inside his head of his parents, Muggle! Muggle! Working Class!
It was a peculiar friendship. They didn't talk about much anything of substance. Dudley flinched at wands (and for some reason pigs). Draco was as pompous and snooty as ever. But Draco was strangely relieved to have an excuse to avoid using his wand, and Dudley seemed to see through the uppity airs and recognize that the façade was all that Draco had to hold onto.
They went to fancy dinners and clubs. Dudley's taciturn demeanor made him a hit with posh socialites, who found his cluelessness about fish forks and the myriad of other superfluous cutlery endlessly entertaining.
Dudley took Draco to Muggle pubs where they drank cheap pints of Bitter and ate greasy chips while watching footie on the telly. It took Draco a few games to catch on, but he ultimately succumbed to the sport wholeheartedly.
It wasn't a simple relationship, but it worked rather well when they categorically ignored their respective families and opposing upbringings. Sometimes it would hit one of them, cause him a moment's pause, create a niggling bit of wondering about what he was doing … but then Dudley would smile, a disarmingly sweet expression on his beefy build. Or Draco would give Dudley a haughty look, one that showed an endearing bit of vulnerability if you knew enough to see it.
Two years passed. They shared a flat, shared possessions, shared a closeness so intimate that neither of them fully understood it. The one thing they kept scrupulously separate was their families. Dudley finally brought it up after an hour-long conversation with his mum. (Was it truly a conversation if Dudley's end consisted merely of grunts, and Petunia Dursley's of a full hour of persistent prying?)
Two weeks later they sat at the dining room table at Four Privet Drive in silence. Silverware clinked lightly against china. A chair creaked. A dog barked outside.
"Rather unusual name, Draco is," said Vernon Dursley, taking a vigorous bite of roast beef.
"Traditional family name," said Draco stiffly.
"Hmmph," Vernon responded, heaping more sprouts onto his plate.
"How did you two meet? Diddykins has been quite vague on the subject."
"Mum!" Dudley hissed.
"No, it's fine," interjected Draco. "Both of us had been dragged to this Christmas party, and we were both dullards on the sidelines. We started talking and, well, here we are."
"I see," Petunia said in a tone that implied a distinct lack of seeing.
Silverware clinked quietly. Vernon set down his wine glass with more force than necessary. Petunia sniffed and silently pushed large platters of roast beef and tureens of gravy at Dudley.
An hour later, Dudley hugged his mother briskly and shook his father's hand. Draco nodded politely.
"Thank you for a lovely evening. Let's do it again soon, shall we? Good night, Dudders … Draco." Petunia said, her shrill pitch and more-pinched-than-usual expression indicating quite the opposite.
"Yes, mum," Dudley replied as he opened the front door. "Happy Christmas."
They moved silently down the walk, out of Petunia's line of sight from her sitting room curtains, and Draco apparated them home.
*
Dinner was a decorated affair. Narcissa had outdone herself with green valances and towering gold candlesticks.
She kissed Draco on both cheeks as they entered. Lucius offered drinks and made polite chit chat with Dudley.
"Little Whinging, you say? My, how quaint!"
"A Muggle tool production facility. That must be … rewarding."
"Boxing … how invigorating."
"Perhaps you can attend one of these upcoming Ministry balls with Draco. Muggle friends are quite en vogue. Draco, you always were ahead of trends."
Draco flushed and glanced worriedly at Dudley, who just shook his head. Draco swallowed the rest of the 100-Galleon-a-bottle wine as if he were swigging Butterbeer.
Lucius marveled over the quaint idea of working for a living and laughed with an artificial bluster that caused the house elves to eye him suspiciously.
Narcissa continued to refer to Dudley as Draco's Muggle Friend for the rest of the evening. After dinner she loudly asked that a few extra meals be packaged up and sent home with Draco's Muggle Friend, citing the lack of quality food options in that part of town with a beatific smile.
After a glass of obscenely expensive Elven-brewed Port, they bid Draco's parents a stiff good night. Draco hugged his mother and let his father clasp him fondly on the shoulder before stepping into the inlaid marble circle in the foyer, which was separated from the wards just enough to allow Disapparition.
*
Draco walked into the kitchen and turned on the kettle as soon as they returned home. Dudley popped open two bottles of beer for them while they waiting for the water to heat. Those were finished and binned long before the kettle whistled. Draco poured the water and Dudley grabbed the Hob Nobs. They sat at the dining room table and stared, neither wanting to speak.
Finally, Dudley broke the silence. "You want to be mother, or should I?" He gestured to the tea, now properly steeped.
Draco primly discarded the tea leaves and poured two cups, pushing one towards Dudley. "I don't think that either of us wants to emulate either of our mothers."
"At least yours sent us home with food," Dudley muttered.
"Yes, my parents were brimming with class and generosity tonight," said Draco dryly.
"At least their insults were slightly better cloaked than my parents'. I thought Dad was going to grunt and harrumph himself to death right there at the table last night."
"Ah, families. Can't live with them, can't stand them, can't ever really escape them." Draco raised his tea cup as if he was giving a particularly eloquent toast, and Dudley snorted fondly at the theatrics.
"Care to skip a repeat of this next year?"
"Skip the family Christmas dinner or the festival entirely?"
"Maybe it's time we leave our old family traditions behind us and start some new ones of our own."
Draco peered at Dudley, his expression a mix of sly and assessing. "I think that's a brilliant idea. Not to mention, it'll piss off Mum and Dad with delightful grandeur." Draco smirked, hands clutching the plain white tea cup firmly. Dudley nodded and stared at his own milky tea. He reached over, grasping Draco's bony, cold hand in his own large, warm one. Next year would be different.
Author:
katmarajadeWritten for:
songquakePairing: Dudley/Draco
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1214
Prompt: family tradition
Summary: Dudley and Draco visit their families for the holidays. It's hard to say which dinner is more awkward. Perhaps it's time for a new tradition.
Notes: I had such fun with these two. And the parents—hoo boy! :-D Thanks for such a fun prompt. It was great to get a chance to write Dudley again, having had to pass on Dudley Redeemed this round. I hope you enjoy it.
When Draco Malfoy met Dudley Dursley, he never imagined that the two of them would become friends, much less anything else. Pansy had dragged him out of the Manor, insisting that he needed to get out from the oppressive heaviness that permeated the place.
No longer amused by parties or crowds, Draco had sulked in a corner of the Christmas party until he ran into another blond bloke about his age, who was similarly avoiding the limelight.
They'd already been talking for over an hour before Draco realized that the bloke was not only a Muggle, but he was also the Muggle cousin of Draco's childhood nemesis, Harry Potter. But then Dudley cracked another dirty joke, and Draco couldn't help the laugh that burst out. It had been a long time since he'd been able to laugh.
Somehow the laughter drowned out the screaming voices inside his head of his parents, Muggle! Muggle! Working Class!
It was a peculiar friendship. They didn't talk about much anything of substance. Dudley flinched at wands (and for some reason pigs). Draco was as pompous and snooty as ever. But Draco was strangely relieved to have an excuse to avoid using his wand, and Dudley seemed to see through the uppity airs and recognize that the façade was all that Draco had to hold onto.
They went to fancy dinners and clubs. Dudley's taciturn demeanor made him a hit with posh socialites, who found his cluelessness about fish forks and the myriad of other superfluous cutlery endlessly entertaining.
Dudley took Draco to Muggle pubs where they drank cheap pints of Bitter and ate greasy chips while watching footie on the telly. It took Draco a few games to catch on, but he ultimately succumbed to the sport wholeheartedly.
It wasn't a simple relationship, but it worked rather well when they categorically ignored their respective families and opposing upbringings. Sometimes it would hit one of them, cause him a moment's pause, create a niggling bit of wondering about what he was doing … but then Dudley would smile, a disarmingly sweet expression on his beefy build. Or Draco would give Dudley a haughty look, one that showed an endearing bit of vulnerability if you knew enough to see it.
Two years passed. They shared a flat, shared possessions, shared a closeness so intimate that neither of them fully understood it. The one thing they kept scrupulously separate was their families. Dudley finally brought it up after an hour-long conversation with his mum. (Was it truly a conversation if Dudley's end consisted merely of grunts, and Petunia Dursley's of a full hour of persistent prying?)
Two weeks later they sat at the dining room table at Four Privet Drive in silence. Silverware clinked lightly against china. A chair creaked. A dog barked outside.
"Rather unusual name, Draco is," said Vernon Dursley, taking a vigorous bite of roast beef.
"Traditional family name," said Draco stiffly.
"Hmmph," Vernon responded, heaping more sprouts onto his plate.
"How did you two meet? Diddykins has been quite vague on the subject."
"Mum!" Dudley hissed.
"No, it's fine," interjected Draco. "Both of us had been dragged to this Christmas party, and we were both dullards on the sidelines. We started talking and, well, here we are."
"I see," Petunia said in a tone that implied a distinct lack of seeing.
Silverware clinked quietly. Vernon set down his wine glass with more force than necessary. Petunia sniffed and silently pushed large platters of roast beef and tureens of gravy at Dudley.
An hour later, Dudley hugged his mother briskly and shook his father's hand. Draco nodded politely.
"Thank you for a lovely evening. Let's do it again soon, shall we? Good night, Dudders … Draco." Petunia said, her shrill pitch and more-pinched-than-usual expression indicating quite the opposite.
"Yes, mum," Dudley replied as he opened the front door. "Happy Christmas."
They moved silently down the walk, out of Petunia's line of sight from her sitting room curtains, and Draco apparated them home.
*
Dinner was a decorated affair. Narcissa had outdone herself with green valances and towering gold candlesticks.
She kissed Draco on both cheeks as they entered. Lucius offered drinks and made polite chit chat with Dudley.
"Little Whinging, you say? My, how quaint!"
"A Muggle tool production facility. That must be … rewarding."
"Boxing … how invigorating."
"Perhaps you can attend one of these upcoming Ministry balls with Draco. Muggle friends are quite en vogue. Draco, you always were ahead of trends."
Draco flushed and glanced worriedly at Dudley, who just shook his head. Draco swallowed the rest of the 100-Galleon-a-bottle wine as if he were swigging Butterbeer.
Lucius marveled over the quaint idea of working for a living and laughed with an artificial bluster that caused the house elves to eye him suspiciously.
Narcissa continued to refer to Dudley as Draco's Muggle Friend for the rest of the evening. After dinner she loudly asked that a few extra meals be packaged up and sent home with Draco's Muggle Friend, citing the lack of quality food options in that part of town with a beatific smile.
After a glass of obscenely expensive Elven-brewed Port, they bid Draco's parents a stiff good night. Draco hugged his mother and let his father clasp him fondly on the shoulder before stepping into the inlaid marble circle in the foyer, which was separated from the wards just enough to allow Disapparition.
*
Draco walked into the kitchen and turned on the kettle as soon as they returned home. Dudley popped open two bottles of beer for them while they waiting for the water to heat. Those were finished and binned long before the kettle whistled. Draco poured the water and Dudley grabbed the Hob Nobs. They sat at the dining room table and stared, neither wanting to speak.
Finally, Dudley broke the silence. "You want to be mother, or should I?" He gestured to the tea, now properly steeped.
Draco primly discarded the tea leaves and poured two cups, pushing one towards Dudley. "I don't think that either of us wants to emulate either of our mothers."
"At least yours sent us home with food," Dudley muttered.
"Yes, my parents were brimming with class and generosity tonight," said Draco dryly.
"At least their insults were slightly better cloaked than my parents'. I thought Dad was going to grunt and harrumph himself to death right there at the table last night."
"Ah, families. Can't live with them, can't stand them, can't ever really escape them." Draco raised his tea cup as if he was giving a particularly eloquent toast, and Dudley snorted fondly at the theatrics.
"Care to skip a repeat of this next year?"
"Skip the family Christmas dinner or the festival entirely?"
"Maybe it's time we leave our old family traditions behind us and start some new ones of our own."
Draco peered at Dudley, his expression a mix of sly and assessing. "I think that's a brilliant idea. Not to mention, it'll piss off Mum and Dad with delightful grandeur." Draco smirked, hands clutching the plain white tea cup firmly. Dudley nodded and stared at his own milky tea. He reached over, grasping Draco's bony, cold hand in his own large, warm one. Next year would be different.
