As If By Magic

AlwaysPadfoot


May 2nd 1998


Dudley Dursley checked his watch. It was 3:42, no later than his usual time to return home on a Saturday night really. He liked to make his parents worry occasionally, particularly since they'd been relocated to Newcastle because of his cousin. He wondered just how much they would worry when he informed them that he was going to be signing up to the army next week.

After downing his last drink, he nodded briefly to the barman and left the pub without another word or glance at anyone at all. He dropped into a side street, taking a shortcut back to his home about a mile from the pub. After five minutes of undisturbed walking, there was a loud crack and someone landed right on top of him.

"Fuck." Dudley swore loudly pushing the unknown person off onto the floor next to him. It was a girl; she'd appeared out of nowhere, just like magic. He took a gulp, magic?

He eyed her suspiciously as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Dudley raised an eyebrow when he found that she could potentially be quite pretty if it weren't for the fact she was bleeding from a head wound and was scowling at him.

"What the fuck are you looking at you Muggle filth?" She spat, "Get away from me."

Dudley was now convinced that she was magic like his cousin, as Muggle was a word he'd heard plenty of times before.

"Fine," he retorted tightly, "I don't help people like you anyway."

He got to his feet, and went to turn away. Dudley knew she was the type of girl who would ask what he meant if she thought she was being insulted, and he certainly liked women with a bit of attitude. The fact that she was magic seemed to have dropped from his mind all together.

"What do you mean 'people like me'?" She hissed at his retreating from. Dudley pretended to sigh a little acting like she was stupid, although he had to admit, he admired her boldness.

"You know… magic people."

He wasn't going to pretend he understood the dark-haired girl who'd dropped on top of him, or any other girls for that matter. He didn't really need to. Dudley simply continued walking away from the girl, who was staring at him in disbelief.

"Where the hell are you going?" The girl shouted after him, "I don't know how you know, but you better fucking help me."

Dudley stopped, looked back at her and demanded, "What's your name?"

She huffed, "Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson."

"Pansy," he repeated, "Weird name; I'm Dudley."

"And you said I had a weird name," Pansy retorted. Dudley snorted, he liked her, because out of all the people he had met on his journeys home, Pansy certainly had character.