"Mum, I'll wash these up in a bit. You should get some rest."
Watching Petunia clear the table, her thin face lined with unmistakable exhaustion, Dudley couldn't help urging her to stop.
Petunia's work had suddenly grown busy lately, but Dudley felt relieved.
The busy workload let her forget her grief for a while. Though she had more to do, her spirits had improved considerably.
He secretly suspected his cousin had quietly lent a hand again. He was right: while the young wizards were chatting, the subject had come up.
Malfoy had boasted to Harry about finding Petunia a job that paid handsomely for very little work. She practically only had to sit there, and the pay was exceptionally high.
The Little Celestial Master had nearly choked on the water he was drinking. Only then had Malfoy made some adjustments, keeping the pay unchanged but making the work busy, with tasks that required care and attention.
After finally persuading Petunia to go upstairs and get on with her work, Dudley deftly gathered the plates and began washing them.
Water rushed from the tap, churning up froth.
Tonight was the night he had arranged to meet Edward. Dudley placed the dried plates in the rack, his mind wandering.
Although Edward hadn't said anything, he already had a vague suspicion. They were probably going to take action for real.
Dudley sniffed and glanced up toward his mother.
The hatred born of Vernon's death had carried him through hellish training, but his mother made him hesitate over risking his life to hunt wizards.
What if... what if I die? What will Mum do?
Dudley turned off the tap, sat on the sofa, and took the face-down photograph from the drawer. Lost, he stared at Vernon in the picture, holding him and smiling so