Title: Recall Alice When She Was Just Small
AN: For Harry's point of view during chapters 4 through 9, check out Go Ask Alice When She's Ten Feet Tall. That fic is the reason why this one exists. Also, I own Sarah Cleelvans, Colin Bard, Coach White, and any other characters that are not from canon, except for Clarice Ryan, Cam Ryan, and Mrs. Ryan who belong to ronwheezyrox and can be found in further adventures in the fic All the Kids. (Thanks for letting me use them! Especially a/u to your reality!) The encounter with Mary-Anne Johns is based loosely on an idea by Twitch-Hopeless Savage. Also, Jefferson Airplane's song White Rabbit inspired the mood of the initial idea, and also provided many, many chapter titles. Other references belong to Lewis Carrol, NIN, etc.
Warning: Rated Teen. Alcohol, angst, minor drug references and use, terrible language and mildly gritty sexual encounters
Thanks to: The HP fandom and Dudley for making life a lot clearer, and to everyone who's been keeping up with the Alice Series.
Recall Alice When She Was Just Small
"Are you certain you don't need a present for Piers' party? I can take you really quickly to the shopping centre, Duddydums, you wouldn't want to show up without something, would you?" Petunia Dursley nagged sweetly, her hands upon the shoulders of her massive teenage son, who was attempting to shave in the bathroom.
"Oi Mum," Dudley Dursley protested in a whiny voice, thus spraying strong-smelling foam into the sink," back off!"
Mrs. Dursley did just that, but looked gooey-eyed and saddened. "Dudley, sweetheart, I'm really not being mean," she quavered as though she might burst into tears," I just want you to make a good impression!" She wrung her hands.
Dudley threw his mother an irate glance through the mirror while she was looking at the rug, but paused to rinse with hot water. He'd all ready purchased (in a very loose sense) Piers' gift, but it wasn't something he thought his mother should know about. He knew that honesty was supposed to be the best policy, but he really didn't want to complicate anything. His mother liked things wholesome, straight-laced and simple, and Dudley had no problem lying to give her just that. He felt it extremely valiant of himself to be so kind.
Petunia waited expectantly, and after he had toweled off, he turned around and heaved a sigh. "Mum. I know you aren't being mean. But I don't need to get him anything. We're not like, nine years old or whatever. You don't got to come with some wrapped present with a fu—" Dudley paused and Petunia raised her eyebrow. He was about to use a word he guessed his mother wasn't really familiar with, so he tried to think of one that might give him a better chance of leaving the house without undergoing a Family Meeting. 'What starts with f that isn't 'fucking'?' Dudley thought worriedly. The trouble with the last few weeks of school was that teachers didn't care about spelling or grammar anymore, so Dudley really hadn't had a chance to further his vocabulary before summer. He burst out with: "A present with a—a-- fun bow." 'Oh Christ, that sounded so damned queer.'
"I understand, I'm sorry, Duddy—"
"Mum, s'all right," Dudley said painstakingly. 'Please don't cry.'
"Is something wrong, sweetums?" Petunia continued. "I know you're a big boy now but I just need to make certain we're still connected, I want to be close to you!"
Dudley closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. 'She always makes it tough,' he thought, and then gave her his signature phony smile. "It's cool, Mum. We're close. It's all good. You're just-- kind of in my space right now! Think you could give me some room?"
"Of course!" Petunia exclaimed, flipping back her long blonde hair and nodding quickly, as though a light bulb had just gone off above her head. "Of course, I'm sorry, I just want to make sure I'm being a good mother, that's all—"
'Oh my fucking God,' the boy thought darkly.Petunia had been talking like this a lot lately. Dudley had to wonder if it was because the school nurse had complained to her last year about what were referred to as his 'health problems'.
This pissed Dudley off extensively. He had no health problems. He was perfectly healthy! Just large! It wasn't something he felt bad about, nor did he feel like he had to apologise to anyone about it, or change himself in order to make amends to the world. He had what the school nurse called "a food problem", meaning he enjoyed eating to the point of never stopping. He'd been dieting almost religiously for about a year, after Mum nearly flipped out, and now he hadn't really lost any weight—it had simply bulked into muscle. This made him an even greater threat to the kids in the neighborhood and to his father's great delight, he'd joined the boxing team as of this past school year, earning him the title of best in the Surrey area, and also the new nickname Big D. Dudley presently stood at six feet and had enormous broad shoulders, a hulking frame and strong, thick arms.
Dudley enjoyed being enormous. His weight had always been a way for him to establish the fact that he was the man in charge and he liked it that way. He knew that people like his cousin Harry regarded him as fat: A twelve Dudley had stayed home "sick" from school (actually, he didn't want to miss a television special that was airing at noon that day), and being bored, he had rummaged through Harry's things. Upon doing so, he realized that his wizard cousin wrote hateful letters about him to his friends—he found one to a person named Ron (it might have been the same weirdo who had called them once on the phone) in which Harry referred to him only as the 'pig.' But after awhile, Dudley really wasn't bothered. After all, was Harry a champion high school boxer? Did Harry know where the best place was to deck a guy so hard he felt down unconscious? No. Harry was a skinny little twerp who couldn't hurt a stuffed teddy. Dudley was perfectly content with being his size. He didn't have time to play the Fat Kid for Harry. He had much better things to do.
"Honestly," he barked a little sourly, his false charm running thin. "You're great, Mum. Now can I be in the loo in peace?"
Petunia nodded again, apparently satisfied, because she said nothing more, smiled, and let him be, closing the door.
Dudley made a face in the mirror. Life would be so much easier if she wasn't always caring so damn much.
Dudley Dursley's room smelled like a million different brands of cologne and socks. All kinds of video games were scattered on the floor (all chock full of blood and guts, because Dudley refused to play anything that wasn't rated Mature), school books gathered dust on his one shelf, and his shiny boxing gloves were perched atop his brand new stereo. He kicked aside several compact disks and pulled open his bottom dresser drawer, pulling out two bottles of whiskey and placing them carefully into his backpack. He'd had to be really sneaky about lifting them from the store and he felt very proud of his stealth. He'd appointed Malcom and Dennis to keep watch at the liquor store, and then he'd waited until the aisle was empty, filling his school bag with various alcohol. As soon as he was ready to leave, Dennis had actually stolen a bottle of wine quite obviously, forcing the store clerk to chase him down, thus creating a diversion for Dudley. Dennis was very stupid, but Dudley couldn't be so stealthy if it weren't for him.
Piers and Dudley both appreciated whiskey more than their friends, who chugged their mothers' wine or took brandy in their tea as though they were really bad. Piers was a good complement to Dudley. He was at least a head shorter and thin; a total lightweight. Dudley often made fun of him for this, but he wouldn't want to hang out with anyone who drank more than he did. He was Big D, after all, and no one was allowed to do anything better or worse than him—this might result in being kicked out of his gang.
He considered putting in the bag of weed he'd bought off Damien Pierce at school last week, but instead left it in his drawer for another time. He didn't appreciate Piers' friendship that much.
He hitched up his backpack, gave a peace sign to the poster of the scantily clad brunette on his wall, and headed downstairs.
"Tell Piers happy birthday from us, Duddy!" Petunia smiled, blowing him a kiss from over the stove where she was cooking something that had an odor like the dye she had once used to make clothing gray for Harry.
"Have fun, son!" Vernon said from the table, working on his orders from the office. "Don't get into any trouble, now!" The two adults laughed amusedly as though this were a hilarious, imaginary prospect that would never happen to their son.
Dudley managed a fake snort. "Yeah…Right," he said slowly. "Bye Mum, bye Dad."
"Love you, popkin!"
"Love you, too."