Chapter 19
Remus was unsure the last time he'd felt this... depressed? He was unsure if that was the right word to describe how he was feeling. With each grasp on his wand, or a knife, or just anything sharp at all, really, it felt heavy in his hand. As though some kind of magnetic attraction was drawing it closer to his arms. But he didn't want to do that. He hadn't in ages, and he had to keep himself together because Sirius was most certainly feeling just as bad about the whole situation.
Mr Wilson, their social worker, had paid them a visit telling them it'd take some time for all the necessary paperwork to be processed so that Harry could be in their care, even though they were only filing for partial custody for now. The full moon was approaching, so as usual, his temper was on a steady incline, it seemed to be like that permanently now-a-days, and he'd snapped at Wilson, finally spewing all his pent up anger in the form of words that were laced with the most definite kind of venom.
He'd simply replied "There's nothing you can do. You'll be lucky to have him in your care before the new year, so don't bet on it. Have a good day." Then he simply disapparated as though the conversation had no real weight to it.
Naturally, Sirius was fuming. But Wilson had been right, there really was nothing to be done. Harry would be trapped with the Dursleys, with Vernon, until further notice. And whilst Remus had seen the boy's name reappear on his class register back at school, he was yet to see the boy in class or wandering around campus.
It had been two weeks.
Two weeks since they'd last saw him and Remus was scared Harry would lose hope of seeing either of them ever again.
Remus eventually snapped after two weeks.
Sirius was more often than not found nursing a drink, sipping messily rather than in the careful, wise manner that he usually would. The brunette could help but feel as though his partner was being childish, drinking like he was. He'd not done that since they were teenagers. Or maybe after James had died, he didn't really know then. He himself had spent most of the time after that dazed from drugs and blood loss from making gashes in his wrists.
But it's not like anyone noticed. Sirius was all he had left at that time and he was off in his own little world.
Plus Remus was already covered in so many scars, what did it matter anyway? It didn't. No one could really decipher whether or not they had been caused by his teenage transformations or have been self inflicted. He'd done it then too, when he was still at Hogwarts. No one had noticed other than Lily, she'd asked about it a few times but he, being the stubborn boy he was, refused help and shut her down, just blaming it on the transformations or catching himself on something.
But he knew. He knew which scars were which, he could tell as they faded from angry, red, some even purple, and gradually became silver lines that could hardly be deciphered from his normal, untouched patches of skin, whilst the scars from the wolf never faded remaining forever ugly and marking him for what he was; a hideous monster. So when the self-inflicted ones finally had faded; he just made more. Not being able to stand the way there was no longer proof of his struggle. It wasn't about the others seeing, those scars were just for himself, just as some kind of evidence that he'd gone through something and came out the other end. Sirius had asked, once, about these anomalous scars, why were they so much neater than all the rest, horizontal to each other? Thicker? Shorter? Remus wanted to tell him everything, truly he did, but that would've just been unfair and selfish. After all, Sirius had only just ran away from home a few days prior. So he, as usual, pursed his lips and flashed a smile, one that made his dimples show but not one that reached his eyes. Sirius gave him a sceptical look but didn't continue to prod him over it. Remus knew it'd always be that way. He would give his all to someone yet it'd never be returned.
That's why losing Harry hit so hard for them both. After all those years of having to be separated from the boy, he was finally welcomed back into their lives, just for a short while before he was snatched right back off them again. Sirius hadn't been that happy (when Harry finally started to live with them) for so long, it was such a foreign and unusual thing to witness. The way his eyes crinkled in the corners whenever the younger had been present, even if he was just sitting quietly with them, watching something on the telly or listening to music on the record player that used to have a home back in their Gryffindor dorm room.
Day seemed to blur into night for Sirius, and Remus felt as though he was just drifting from work to home repeatedly.
Tonight was out of routine though. Strange as it was, it was sort of nice.
The couple were curled up with each other, on the leather sofa, with a blanket draped over them as they watched Doctor Who on the telly. Sirius was holding his usual glass of scotch on the rocks with a twist, Remus never understood why all the extra shit was necessary for a casual night time drink. Well, it wasn't exactly casual at the point, was it? Sirius was bordering on becoming an alcoholic, regrettably so.
Their large fire crackled subtly and its warm, orange glow illuminated the living room and heated them up in the midst of the November chill. Wind whistled gently outside amongst the frosted leaves of the surrounding trees of the apartment building. The room was clouded by the thick smoke of the fire and the countless cigarettes they'd shared.
"You're beginning to smell like a brewery," Remus finally whispered, eyes growing heavy as he fell asleep in the crook of the other's neck.
Sirius glanced down at the brunette out the corner of his eyes and frowned, "Sorry, you know it helps calm me... The drinking." He ran his fingers through the other's dark hazel curls, untangling the knots that had accumulated over the last few days.
"No, I know.. I-" he sighed and brought a hand to his nose bridge and pinched it slightly, scrunching up his eyes as an unwelcome headache settled behind his eyes, the strong smell of liqueur brought in an all too familiar memory. After his mother passed it was always like this with his father. Remus would tug on his father's sleeve and ask him to tuck him in at night only to get slurred words and a roll of the eyes. Or when he was older, and he understood more, Remus would ask how much longer his father would continue like this, warn him that he would die. Lyall Lupin never cared though. "Just one more drink Remus, don't be dramatic." Then he'd flick his wand and the door would slam in his face. He was just scared Sirius would shut him out in the same way. He swallowed nervously, "Just be careful, yeah?"
"I am. You don't need to worry." he flashed his classic Sirius Black smile, the charming one that made you foolishly believe anything he said, Remus saw through it though. But he let the ravenette lie because he was lying to himself just as much.
Suddenly, the fire crackled fiercely and flashed green. They both perked up immediately, watching as a black haired, cloaked figure emerge from where the flames had once been.
"Merlin save me now..." Sirius groaned upon seeing who it was, then downed the rest of his drink and reached onto the coffee table, where he'd kicked his feet up to rest on ,and got the bottle of scotch and poured himself another full glass, this time without the ice and the citrus addition.
Remus jumped up from the sofa and made his way over to the professor.
"Severus," he smiled warmly, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Snape scowled slightly then started, "I'm back with Harry's potions, sorry it has taken me this long, I understand it must be an inconvenience," he stopped to observe his surroundings then frowned, "Where is Harry, anyway?"
The pair looked at each other and sighed, Sirius pulled a sour face and averted his eyes to the carpet, looking at the patches of dirt the younger boy had dragged in when he still lived there.
"He's... Er- he's gone," Remus looked away too, now, as his stomach swarmed with guilt like a group of angry wasps stinging him, prodding him from the inside.
Snape widened his eyes, slightly out of character for him but he didn't really care, "What do you mean, he's gone?" He drawled out the last word, the question sounded slightly harsh, but Remus just assumed it to be his natural monotonous tone.
"Minister Bagnold took 'im back to them evil wankers, din 'e," Sirius slurred, his head lolling back against the armrest as he spoke behind the bottle of fire whiskey that he now held firmly in his grip.
"Who?" Snape said, stridently.
Remus had always assumed his to be calm, everlastingly harsh but not the type to lose his temper. Clearly he was wrong. But he supposed people thought the same thing about him, until he started going around punching people in second and third year when the full moons had gotten particularly bad. That didn't do him any good, only earned him the nickname "Loony Lupin". He preferred that to "Remus, the queer one", though. That one had been popular in primary school then later in Hogwarts too, when the rumours about him and Sirius started up.
"The Dursleys," Sirius snapped, too inebriated for his own good now, "We told 'em... Told 'em that 'is Uncle 'ad been hitting him, but they didn't give two. Sent 'im back right away.."
Snape felt as though he'd been punched in the gut as an awful feeling of (perhaps) guilt (?) settled in. The feeling tugged awfully behind his navel and made him clench both fists at his sides. He'd been so judgmental of the boy. All because of who his father was and how he'd looked so alike him. He's foolishly ignored the fact that James hadn't even had the chance to raise Harry. Nor had Lily. His heart clenched at that thought.
Snape felt horrible. He of all people knew what it was like to grow up abused and misfortuned.
"Well do you know how you're going to get him back? I'm assuming you won't leave him there?"
"We've applied for shared custody. Though our case worker tells us we shouldn't expect him back before Christmas-"
"New years," Sirius corrected.
Lost for words, Snape awkwardly stood in the middle of the living room, eyebrows knit ever so slightly together.He'd clenched his jaw and jutted it out.
"Well," Snape started, reaching into his robes and pulling out four glass vials filled to the brim with a shimmering purple liquid. He placed them onto the coffee table and the liquids shook slightly, flecks of glitter flew around the tube. "I best be off. I wish you luck with Potter."
"Snape wait-"
But before Remus could finish the other man disappeared. He wished wizards didn't do that so often; disappear before he could finish his sentence.
"I hate him," Sirius murmured.
Remus whipped around on his heel and glared at his partner, narrowing his eyes before hastily snatching the bottle of fire whiskey off him. "That's enough for you. Go to bed."
Seeing the stern look on the brunette's face, Sirius knew there was no room for argument. He huffed and dragged himself up from the sofa and into their bedroom.
Alone at last, Remus allowed himself to flop down onto the sofa, holding his head in his hands. The urge had been so strong tonight, and he knew it wasn't going to go away anytime soon, not unless he actually did the act, not unless he just let himself relapse. But wouldn't that just be pathetic? He was 27 for Godric's sake. Shouldn't he have grown out of this by now? With a shaky hand, he reached for his wand and stared at it with longing eyes.
He rolled up his sleeve to his elbow and stared at his ugly, hideous, even, scarred forearm. Remus couldn't feel his hands, or anything really, he felt fuzzy.
"Diffindo," the blood seeped out slowly and he instantly felt his shoulders relax, all tension vanishing.
***
"LET." bang "ME." bang "OUT!" Harry screamed, banging his fists carelessly against the cupboard door. He'd not been let out all day and he seriously needed to go pee. The boy had lost all care in the world for the consequences that would follow him acting out. Vernon had already slapped, punched and kicked him everywhere since he'd gotten back and Harry just let him. Enabled him too, really.
Since the dinner incident a couple weeks ago Uncle Vernon had made it his personal mission to try and beat the magic out of him. He wouldn't let that happen though.
The spiders in the cupboard had accumulated in clusters in the corners and their webs hung low, he never really minded them much, having grown used to them, but that doesn't mean he liked them. His skin had been scratched raw. The bugs has somehow gotten underneath his skin, they were tainting him, crawling inside him and he hated it.
The cupboard door swung open and a large, purple and clammy hand latched onto his hair, as per routine, and dragged him out. A finger pointed harshly in his face.
"Right. You listen to me, now, boy." Uncle Vernon started. Harry rolled his eyes and earned himself a backhander to the face. It was fine, he thought, it's not as if you could decipher new bruises from old anymore, they overlapped and blenched into each other now.
I wonder when he'll let me go back to school. I want to see Remus... he let his mind wander, ignoring his Uncle's yells, spit flying out his mouth and spraying itself over his face.
"Keep down your racket or I'll make you wish you'd never been born. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry said, glaring into the man's eyes with all his pent up rage. He didn't actually care what Vernon did to him at this point. He was sure there was nothing left that could be done to him, it had all already happened. Harry flickered his eyes down to his left hand, staring with disgust at the ugly red scar of the back of it. Harry hated his scars. There had been a time where he'd like the one on his forehead, he thought it was kind of cool. Even if the other kids had picked on him for it, called it ugly or weird, he always remained in a good relationship with it. But now? Now all he saw when he looked at it was a reminder of his parents and how they died. He just wanted his mummy and daddy back. Harry clenched his fists.
Vernon gave a rough tug on his hair then shoved him back into the wall. The man grunted and turned away, then looked back over his shoulder and spoke again, "Oh, and you're going back to school on Monday. Heard the queers have been keeping you from education. We don't need that," Uncle Vernon spun back around on his heel and clipped Harry on the ear, "You're already tapped enough."
Despite the throbbing pain in his ear and at the side of his eyes (warning him another bruise is going to form) Harry couldn't help but feel a small spark of hope settle in his chest. Vernon trudged back to the living room and slumped himself down on sofa and the boy made sure he was out of sight before a wide smile spread across his face.
"Harry," Petunia called from the kitchen.
He was going to see Remus. There was no reason to pay attention to the purple, blue and some yellowing bruises because he was going back to school.
"Harry!"
Maybe it would be better this time round? Maybe seeing him in this state will get Remus and Sirius to take him back in.
"HARRY!" Aunt Petunia screeched, finally pulling him out his thoughts.
"Coming!" he called back, bringing his lips together to not seem as happy as he actually was- he knew all to well the Dursleys would do their very best to ruin his mood.
Dudley was slouching in the arm chair across from the telly, a large bowl of chocolate ice cream in his lap. He smacked his lips with each spoonful, his entire mouth surrounded by the melted chocolate liquid. Harry, who was feeling rather elated over the thought of going back to school, didn't even feel the overwhelming urge to shout at his cousin and tell him to shut up. Judgmentally, Vernon's eyes followed Harry's movements as he walked to the kitchen where Petunia was holding a steaming pan. She thrust it into his arms and he yelped in pain, dropping the pan and making it clatter by his feet.
"Oh, you useless boy!" she snapped, picking it back up.
"It was hot," he cried, cradling his arms and the scald marks by his wrists, at least they didn't look as though they'd scar.
"Well you were meant to hold the handle."
Harry huffed and snatched the pan back off her, his good mood already ruined and his temper shorter than it had been before. He walked over to the hob and stood on his tip toes in attempt to see how well the chicken was being cooked. It look awfully plain... Not at all like what he'd become accustomed to being give at Remus and Sirius' house. Their chicken was always infused with a wonderfully warm pallet of spices and sauces. Sirius had mentioned that James had taught them how to cook like this and that made his stomach swell with some sort of pride, he couldn't really understand.
Suddenly, he snapped his eyes back to the pan, realising he'd spaced out. Harry was sure he'd burnt the chicken, now, and he anxiously glanced over to Aunt Petunia to see if she was looking, maybe he'd be able to swap the burnt chicken breast for another one and quickly cook that?
Unfortunately, luck was never on his side.
"Harry! Pay attention," she rushed over and grabbed the pan off him when she saw the slightly black smoke arising from it. Petunia sighed, aggravated, and placed the pan on another section of the hob then brought both hands up to slick back the stray hairs escaping her tight blonde ponytail, the ends curling ever so softly.
"Look what you've done now, stupid boy. Can't you do anything right?" She picked up the wooden spoon off the counter and brought it harshly across his cheek. Harry immediately clasped his hands over the red mark he knew was there, trying to ignore the way his body began to buzz with anger, his ears feeling as though water had been poured down them. His right cheek was stinging ever so badly, and it was all becoming too much for him again. If he wasn't careful he'd do something stupid that he was certain to regret. Harry looked at his feet, apprehensively darting his eyes up to see whether or not Vernon was about to come up to him and bash his head against the counter or... something along those lines.
Luckily for him, his Uncle was letting out obnoxious snores as his head lulled to the side, drool slightly running out the corner of his wide-open mouth and had somehow not woken up by the clatters from the kitchen, and Petunia's shrill screams.
"Just..." she sighed and tightened her ponytail, "Just get out of my sight. I don't care where you go, I just want rid of you." And then she mumbled, so quietly Harry almost didn't hear it, "If only my stupid sister hadn't run off with that fool... I wouldn't have ever been stuck with the burden of looking after the likes of you."
Harry stared at her momentarily trying to fathom what she just said. Maybe this was his chance to actually run away. The last time hadn't worked, well, not permanently at least.
Aunt Petunia turned her back to the boy, still grumbling to herself under her breath, and that was that. Harry took his chance.
Carefully, he manoeuvred through the house and gently unlocked the front door, standing on the tip of his toes to slide the metal chain across and letting it dangle loosely by the side of the door. He glanced fearfully back to his relatives in the other room and when he finally confirmed that no one was watching, Harry pulled the handle down and stepped over the threshold in the chilly, winter air. Quickly, he closed the door and bolted down the road, trying not to slip on the frosted over pavement. As the months rolled on and November slowly prepared itself for December, the amount of ice along the roads and the concrete was enough to make him skid ever so slightly with each step.
Eventually, rain started to spit from the sky and it gradually became harsher. Unlike last time, Harry did actually have a place in mind; the bus stop. At first, he'd considered going back to Remus and Sirius' house, but he knew they'd find him there, the Ministry of Magic... or whatever it was called. They did before, and Harry didn't want to be found.
He knew it was too optimistic of him to think his good mood would last. Though, he still wanted to go to school, the feeling of going completely off the grid, never to be found by the Dursleys ever again, out weighed any feeling of staying, just to go to school, by a tonne.
The rain was coming down harder than ever, now, but Harry just kept on running until he saw the nearest bus stop. His trainers were muddy and worn down, and all of a sudden he felt a pang in his heart for all the stuff he'd left behind at the Dursleys. Harry came to a halt in the middle of the pavement, chest rising and falling as he desperately struggled to catch his breath. The street lamps lining the roads illuminated his way to the bus stop. Streaking towards the parked bus, he came to a halt. There was hardly any room for going back if he was to step on now. I left Daddy's book... And the picture.
But even with only the clothes on his, not even that was enough to make him turn around. He was not going back to the Dursleys, and Harry would make sure of that.
"Ya gettin' on, kid?" the young man driving the bus said, chomping on his chewing gum obnoxiously loudly. He couldn't've been older than 18. The man's hair was cut into a greasy-looking mullet and he was slightly leaning out the window, cigarette between two fingers, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth with each inhalation of the cig.
Harry stared back with wide eyes and gave a sheepish nod before he stepped on.
"Where ya goin' then?" he tapped his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel.
"Er- End of the line?" truthfully, Harry had only ever been on a bus a few times, and by that he meant very few times. Aunt Petunia had always said that public transport made her skin crawl.
"Alrigh'," he inputted the necessary data into the machine, "That'll be £1 then. Cough up," the man laid his palm flat and made a grabbing gesture, watching, almost sceptically, as the boy reached into his pocket and pulled out the pennies. Harry placed five 10 pence coins and a 50p, one by one into the clammy palms of the bus driver. "Ya only got shrapnel? No pound coins or nun? We're runnin' low." Harry shook his head in response. The man sighed and printed the ticket out and was passed to him. He was rather surprised that he was even allowed a ticket, considering he most certainly didn't look old enough to be out and going on lonely excursions around Surrey. But it was the 80s, and the man driving the bus didn't exactly seem like the caring type.
Harry trudged to the back of the bus, his trainers peeling off the sticky floors with each step he took. He took a seat in the corner and swung his legs back and forth, some type of futile attempt to warm himself up as he began to shiver violently; the cold of his soggy, wet clothes finally getting to him. Also the adrenaline that coursed through his veins made him shake with excitement, because he'd actually done it; he'd escaped.
A few stops later, a woman stepped onto the bus soon after him. She had been using a fluorescent pink umbrella to protect herself from the downpour outside and was now shaking off the excess water through the doors. Her hair was dark-brown, in a way that matched her skin, it coiled neatly down to her shoulders and was being pushed out of her face by a yellow hair clip. She was wearing high-waisted boot cut jeans and a melon green turtleneck, both making her look like she'd been plucked straight from the cover of an ABBA album. She took her ticket from the driver, who had been making the eyes at her since she stepped through the doors, his mouth forming an 'o' shape in a way that his chewing gum dropped out. The woman was about to take a seat alone at the front of the bus until her eyes wandered to the boy who was staring out the window at the back. She furrowed her eyebrows and clicked her high heels towards him, then took a seat next to him. Harry looked to his left cautiously staring over the woman.
"How old are you, sweetie?" she frowned, eyebrows knit close together.
Perking up his posture, he chewed his lip before answering shyly, "M'seven..." Upon closer look, he could see the sheer, shimmery green eyeshadow dusted upon her eyelids, it matched the colour of her top, he noticed, and her eyelashes were as long as spider legs, spindling up to her eyebrows.
"Oh honey... What are you doing out at this time?" her eyes anxiously looked Harry up and down, seeing his comically oversized clothes, sopping wet with rain water, his tousled black curls clinging to his face and the back of his neck, the purple bruises upon his cheek bones and the two definite black eyes he sported. Harry pursed his lips and turned back to the window, trying to hide his face from this random woman's gaze, it felt as if she could see right through him.
"I'm Mary, by the way," she added, sensing that the boy didn't want to touch on the other topic.
"I'm Harry..." he whispered, voice ever so small and shy.
The bus finally left its station, they were still the only two passengers there.
"What happened to your eyes, Harry?" Mary asked softly, casting a fleeting look before she finally tore her eyes off the bruises.
Harry chomped harshly down on his cheek, conflicted on whether or not he should tell her. For one, he didn't even know who this lady was (as nice as she seemed, he knew all too well than to judge a book by its cover) but that could also be to his advantage, because she didn't know his Uncle, Aunt or cousin, or what school he go to. Sighing, Harry decided to tell her.
"Er- My Uncle... He, er- He gets angry sometimes."
Suddenly, Harry was overcome with the urge to do something, anything, with his hands. He settled for wringing them in his lap, staring down at them as he did so.
"S'fine though. I got used to it, so it's doesn't hurt as much now," he decided to continue.
Mary looked at him with sympathetic eyes, ones he recognised Sirius always pulled at him, "I'm sorry honey.. You don't deserve that." her doe eyes looked as though they were brimming with tears, she cleared her throat, "What happened to your parents?"
"Mummy and Daddy died when i was little... Apparently they were murdered, but Uncle Vernon always told me it was a car crash and- and that Daddy loved t-to drink more than he l-loved me and Mummy..." his voice shook and tears were now cascading down his face. "But it's not true... I know it's not. Because I have pictures, and they were happy... Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are never happy with me."
"So is that why you're running away?"
He vigorously nodded his head, "I lived with my godparents for a couple months but I had to go back to Uncle Vernon..." Harry felt the tears drop onto his lap as he looked down, hands now squeezing the fabric of his joggers. "M'tired..." he let out a yawn, as if to prove his point.
"Here," Mary smiled and reached into a leather handbag that had been swung over her shoulder. The bag flap was black with large white polka dots whilst the main compartment was pure black leather. She rustled around inside for a minute then pulled out a thick, knitted cardigan and draped it over the boy's shoulders, "It'll keep you warm. Where you off to?"
"End of the line."
"I'll come with you! We can have a little road trip, yeah?"
"You really don't hafta," he replied meekly, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping the cardigan around him more securely.
"I don't mind! I could use the company," she grinned, the dimples in her cheeks showing clearly.
Harry offered a slight nod then leaned up against the window, pressing a cheek against the cool glass as his eyelids grew heavy and he finally allowed himself to drift off. Even stuck in his soaking wet clothes, cold and shivering at the back of a bus, Harry still felt safer, more comfortable here next to this stranger than he did back at the Dursleys.
He wasn't going back; he was absolutely adamant on that. He wouldn't go back if it was the last thing he could do. Harry didn't know how much longer he would last in that damned house, it made him nauseous to even consider that.
***
"Harry, sweetie. Pstt, Harry," a delicate hand gently shook his shoulder and jolted awake, not registering how different this hand felt, just scared that his Uncle or Aunt had found him. His eyes snapped open and he realised it was just Mary, smiling kindly at him, "Hey there, we did it! We reached the end of the line!"
Harry pivoted his head the right, looking out the window beside him; the sun was slowly beginning to rise. The morning star shining bright and high as the first sign of a new day peaked through. Flecks of blue at the highest point of the sky blended into the reds and oranges at the horizon. As far as he could tell, the rain had stopped, at least.
"Oh." Harry replied simply, not knowing what else to say. He pushed his glasses up his nose then hopped down from his seat and Mary followed as he walked to the front of the bus, muttering a quick thank you to the bus driver who winked at Mary as she did the same. She blew him a kiss then stepped onto pavement with Harry.
"Thanks for staying wi' me, Miss. Hope you have a good day," he offered an awkward smile and a wave goodbye.
"Hold on, where are you going to go?" she said with a frown.
Harry shrugged.
"I understand your home life isn't great all," she gestured to the bruises on his face, "But how 'bout we go to the police station and ask them to call your Godparents? We-"
"No! You can't, please. I'll just have to go back and- and I don't wanna. I don't wanna go back!" he cried, feeling his eyes grow wet, emotions beginning to spill out. Mary carried on talking but Harry couldn't decipher what she was saying anymore. He couldn't breathe. It all came crashing down on him now; he had no clue where he was. Was he even still in Surrey? He hadn't checked where the bus actually went to. Harry's eyes darted around frantically, looking for an escape. All he knew how to do was run. So that's what he did. Well, tried to, at least.
He set off to sprint down the city pavement, the roads already bustling with cars in the early morning sun. But, he didn't take into account the fact that it had been hammering it down all night and it was winter, so the concrete had frozen over due to the sub zero temperatures and he went tumbling down only a few seconds later. That was all it took for him to break down, his lip quivering before his entire body wracked with loud sobs. Harry was cold, wearing damp clothes and was hours away from home. He wanted his comfy bed, to be back with Sirius and Remus, for them to hold him and stroke his head and tell him it would all be alright.
But it wouldn't be.
It wasn't going to be all okay, because he had no idea where he was.
Harry wanted his walkman, he missed his godparents more than anything.
After Mary patched up Harry's knees with some 50p plasters from her bag (Harry was sure she had everything in there) and finally managed to get him to stop crying, she managed to get him to agree to go down to the police station and call up his godparents. Mary took his hand and walked slowly, to match his pace as he limped alongside her.
***
"Hello?" Sirius answered the phone groggily, who in their right mind would call this early on a Sunday morning?
"Hello, can I speak to a...." the man on the phone paused for a second, drawing out the 'a' before he continued, "Mr Sirius Black?"
"Speaking."
"Ah, brilliant. Mr Black, I work for Staines Civil Police, in Spelthorne. I'm just wondering whether now is an okay time for us to have a quick word?" his deep voice spoke through the phone, far too cheery to say it was only 6 in the morning.
"Yeah, now's fine."
"Who s'it?" Remus whispered as he rolled over in bed, his eyes still closed.
"Police," replied Sirius, covering the receiver with his hand. The brunette finally opened his eyes and frowned, sitting himself up so he could press his ear against the phone too.
"Sorry to disturb you so early in the morning, Mr Black, I'm just calling to let you know that your Godson is fine and we have him back at the station with us."
"What?!" Sirius gasped, "What happened to him?"
"Oh, you didn't know?" the policeman replied, "Harry Potter is your Godson, right?"
"Yeah, is everything okay? Did- Did his Uncle..." but the ravenette stopped himself before he began to overthink.
"He's okay, he's not in any trouble. Harry came to the station with a good samaritan early this morning, she said she found him alone on the bus. He requested we called you."
"Did he run away?"
"From what we understand, yes. He hasn't actually spoken to us since he got here. Just passed us a slip of paper with your name and number on it. I've asked him questions, like where the bruises on his face came from and, simply, his address but he didn't answer," the man sounded concerned as he spoke.
Sirius glanced at Remus and frowned, resting his head on the latter's shoulder, with a sigh he finally replied, "Okay," he rubbed a hand across his face, "We'll, Er- We'll come get him, thank you constable."
"No problem," the officer hung up the phone after that, presumably going back to talking, unsuccessfully, with Harry.
"D'you think he ran away then?" Remus frowned, eyebrows knit close together. He darted his eyes down to his hand and fiddled with the edge of his pyjama sleeve.
"Yeah, I can hardly blame him though, sounds like Vernon's been back at him.. Beatin' on him again," Sirius felt eternally guilty, and gosh did he need a drink, "This is all because of the pissin' Ministry. He's unsafe there but they really couldn't give two shits."
"Well... At least he's safe," Remus said as Sirius chanted at the same time: "Accio fire whiskey."
The brunette frowned at his boyfriend, still getting anxious about the drinking habit and how it was gradually going to get worse; he'd seen this before.
"We need to pick up Harry," Remus stressed after trying to snatch the bottle from him, only for the ravenette to pull away.
"Yeah, yeah we will. We'll take the bus, just get dressed and leave me to have a drink. My heads throbbing."
Remus stood up and walked over to the wardrobe, mumbling to himself, "Well you wouldn't even have a headache if you weren't drinking so much."
Without a second thought, Remus pulled his top over his head and rummaged around the cupboards for a top, settling on a band T-shirts with The Smiths' album 'The Queen Is Dead' on the front. Sirius glimpsed up for a second then noticed something. His eyes widened as he swiftly made his way to the other.
"What's on your arm?" he exasperated.
Remus felt his heart sink into his stomach, he quickly hid his arm behind his back and gave a nervous smile, "There's nothing there."
Sirius blinked slowly then narrowed his eyes, "Bollocks," he grabbed onto the brunette's wrist and observed it cautiously, "What- Remus, what happened?" But it was more rhetorical than not, because Sirius knew all too well what this was.
"Don't worry about it," he took his arm back and then shrugged on his brown corduroy jacket that was lying on top of the chest of drawers. Remus seized his dark denim jeans that were stuffed in the wardrobe and put them on whilst continuing to speak, "C'mon, get dressed. If you're finally done day drinking?" He set pace towards the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, ignoring Sirius' pleas of worry as he slammed the bedroom door behind him. Remus didn't see the fuss, to be honest. He was just being silly, it wasn't a big deal. Besides, they had Harry to worry about right now. So it didn't matter, right?