he crouches, and the deep lines of an obstinate facade smooth out. all her whatever you want, but now doesn’t feel like the time for all of the regular bluff & bluster. she knows that she isn’t the only one who finds normal to be a little unattainable, right now, but it really goes beyond everything that’s happened and farther into all that could have. ginny has apologies to make, at this point she may never stop, but there is a deep set relief that in spite of it all, everyone is okay. she looks at him looking up at her, the angle making him look a little wide eyed, and she’s struck for the first time in a while by the fact that it’s been the better part of seven years, now. she’s known him longer - and maybe better, given just how much they’ve been able to bond - than the very boy who’s absence had brought them together. a lump forms in her throat, because she knows they’re an unlikely pair, but the TRUTH has so quickly become that the only thing that felt ‘other’ about him by now was the feeling that still sometimes persisted that she should find more, there, than she did.
without even thinking about it, she brushes the tip of her index finger along his jawline, while he still crouches at her side - letting her hand fall back to the bed when it’s travelled the course, and giving him an undeniably affectionate smile. ginny didn’t need the events that had transpired to already know that in life, the things you care about the most can blink out of existence more suddenly than you expect, but they were certainly helping put word to what she’d found more difficult to say, earnestly, in the past seven years. “i love you, dudley. i think…-” ah, there was that lump, again - her voice broke, and ginny shook her head, smile growing a little sheepish, “you’re brilliant. better than i ever would’ve known.” better man. better friend. better, better, better. she’s never forgotten the little she knew of him, from before, but she’s never let it come between them. it feels important for him to actually hear it, to know that she thinks the world of him - she could very easily lose the chance.
that same hand is the one that she offers, and ginny’s grip is just as vicelike as his. that same hand is the one that she offers, and ginny’s grip is just as vicelike as his. her bottom lip is still practically trembling & she’s definitely closer to full on waterworks than she’d like to have pointed out, but the burst of laughter has allowed her… steady out, a bit - it’s certainly upped the mood, though that’s bound to continue fluctuating. a small amount of hope persists that dudley knows more than maybe even she does - she’s still picking up the pieces, after all. there’s a lot to unpack, sure, but it’s been touched on, right? he’s been let into the loop? “dudley… has anyone…- they’ve told you what happened, right? everything that went down, why we were at the ministry…- everything about- harry?”
the lump in ginny’s throat so easily becomes a twin to the lump in dudley’s throat : the sincerity of their words feels surreal , like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop and the punchline to kick the door in. his jaw tingles from the line she’s drawn there and he briefly considers the instinct pulsating in his temples to flee : it’s been close to seven years now, and there’s something still so intimately wrong about it all . years and years of being the bully , the awful ways he fought to make his parents proud , and dudley still struggles to bring himself to believe that’s he’s good . that he’s enough .
“gin…” though the vulnerability he feels is nowhere near the agony of the early years , his face has never felt this transparent : as if more than every thought could be seen , as if the thoughts and the instincts and the driving passions he knew nothing of could be examined by squinting at his forehead . he wants to duck , would have even hidden himself in the mattress or under the chair if their hands hadn’t been connected , if it wasn’t the only thing reassuring him that they were still there , still kicking . but as acquainted as dudley imagines himself to be with the feeling , he is nowhere near as close as ginny . and so his voice cracks , his head drops and he can’t look them in the eyes and hear this . “you know. you know.” the words he can’t quite say lodge themselves in the back of his throat : you know i love you too , you know i would do anything , you know that feeling scares the shit out of me , you know you know you know .
and harry’s name isn’t a whisper between their breastbones , isn’t a forbidden elephant in the room that can never be acknowledged : the two of them have talked & talked and the name doesn’t make him flinch anymore... and he doesn’t really notice it . “probably.” is somewhere close to the truth: words were spoken at him & it wasn’t their fault that he zeroed in on ginny almost dying . “it did go…” he pauses, letting his head situate itself on his shoulders once more , gesturing with his free hand . “in one ear and out the other.”
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