Dudley Dursley had never had such a rotten day in his life. Rotten week, his mind amended. His mum and dad had been taken away, locked up because of the freak, and the bloody child protection services had had the nerve to suggest they were abusive to him! As if, he snorted. But until Aunt Marge could straighten that mess out, he was stuck in the care of some family out in the middle of London. Both parents were dentists and had already made rather rude comments about the state of his teeth.

"Too many sweets," the woman had said with a decided nod of her head, and Dudley had longed to smack her. But he'd tried doing that to their daughter, a swot with very unruly brown hair, and had been sat down in a corner with a blistering lecture and a warning that he was lucky he hadn't gotten a smacking, too.

All in all, Dudley was very displeased with his rapid-fire placement with the Grangers.

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was thrilled. An only child, the eight-year-old girl had never had someone so ready-made to be a playmate before. Granted, he had tried to hit her, and he kept calling her unflattering nicknames under his breath, but she was used to that. Her parents had explained that Dudley would be staying with them for a while, until the snafu with his own parents had been sorted. It might even, her father had said, looking serious, be a permanent stay. Was she okay with that?

Of course, she'd piped up, and grinned at him. Dudley had a funny name, but Hermione wouldn't dream of telling him that. She'd been teased enough about her own name, which sounded prim and old-fashioned. Not to mention no one could properly pronounce it. At least Dudley's was easy to pronounce.

Under the watchful eye of her parents, Hermione curled up on the window seat with a new book, The Secret Garden, as she stealthily watched Dudley across the room. The police had brought his own toys, a whole big boxful, but all he was doing was running a very shiny fire truck across the floor in a desultory sort of fashion and humming under his breath. He looked sad, and Hermione wondered with a pang what it must be like to be dumped in a new family, away from your parents.

"Want to play anything?" she called nervously across the expanse of the living room. Her mum nodded in approval at her, turning back to her newspaper.

"Like what?" Dudley looked up, face sullen.

"I don't know," Hermione shrugged. "Anything. What do you like to play?"

"Harry Hunting," Dudley's smile was unpleasant. "But I can't play that no more. The freak ran away."

"Ran away? What do you mean?" Hermione's mouth gaped open as her mind skimmed over the epithet. "Is he okay?"

"Who cares?" Dudley shrugged. "He was just a freak. My cousin," he elaborated. "That's why I'm here in the first bloody place."

"Language, Dudley," Hermione's mum reproved gently. His face turned bright red and he darted a look of almost fear at Mrs. Granger.

"Why would he run away?" Hermione returned to the conversation, book forgotten beside her.

"I dunno," Dudley mumbled. "Dad never said why. Just said the freak ran off. He was supposed to get in the car with us but he didn't."

"That's awful," Hermione gasped, brown eyes filling with ready tears.

"Nah, I got the back seat to myself that time," Dudley nodded with infuriating indifference.

"Don't matter though," he added, setting the truck aside with a noisy clang. "Aunt Marge won't let me stay here, wait and see. I bet she can get me outta here and get Mum and Dad free too. They didn't do nothing. The freak deserved it anyway."

Before Hermione or her mother could say anything, the phone rang in the front hallway. Mr. Granger sighed and stood from his desk, retrieving it and retreating where the others could hear nothing but a few murmured words. When the man returned, his eyes shone with such sympathy, Hermione's lip wobbled and new tears spilled down her face.

"I'm sorry, Dudley," Hermione's dad said, crossing the room and squatting down beside the overly large boy. "That was Marge Dursley's solicitor. I'm afraid that she's...well. I don't say this to be cruel, but I can't abide lying to children. Ask Hermione later, if you wish. Marge Dursley isn't going to attempt to gain custody of you. I'm afraid that for the time being, until after your parents' trial, you're stuck here with us."

Though he would deny it fiercely later, and even pinched her arm when she dared bring it up, Hermione saw fat tears glisten in the Dursley boy's eyes.