Snitches get Stitches

Harry thought he’d hate school, he really did. Muggle school? With pencils instead of quills? Where his peers were four years ahead of him in every subject? It sounded horrible.

Except apparently the school, Lincoln Grove, was ‘bullshit’, according to Lip, and had ‘very low academic standards’. Harry had even managed to answer a question correctly in chemistry about mixing chemicals in different temperature fluids.

And Harry thought he didn’t learn anything from Snape.

After school ended, Ian had to go to work and Lip went to tutor someone, so Harry decided to walk around.

Harry thought that Chicago was meant to be pretty, like the nicer parts of London. But the neighborhood he lived in was rather rundown. There were a lot of houses with boarded up windows and caved in roofs. Most of the dull brick businesses had some sort of graffiti written on them, always something vulgar or written in a way Harry couldn’t decipher it. Nobody seemed very friendly either. Harry got a lot of suspicious looks while he walked.

And, perhaps the worst part, was that Harry couldn’t find a giant silver bean that Hermione told him to see.

Ron was the one who found out where Harry and Sirius would be going.

Harry had been in Hermione’s room, broken-hearted, miserable, and trying to not upset Hermione any more than she already was. He knew he’d be leaving in the next few days, but he had no idea where.

“I heard Mad-Eye volunteered to take you to the Dursleys to get your things on Friday,” Hermione said softly.

Harry snorted up at the ceiling. He was flat on his back on Hermione’s bed and willing himself to go numb.

“What things?” Harry asked bitterly. “Besides Hedwig, of course,” he amended himself.

“Your trunk is still there, isn’t it?” Hermione pointed out. “You can take your books, I’m sure.”

Harry turned his head to give Hermione an apathetic look. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the bed and looked as miserable as Harry felt.

“For what?” Harry asked. “A reminder that I’m a muggle now? That I’m expelled and they- they…” Harry had to swallow hard against the lump in his throat. He looked back up at the ceiling and tried to feel nothing.

“They snapped my wand,” Harry said as emotionless as he could. “And Vernon probably burned my stuff anyway. He wasn’t pleased with the dementors or the Order showing up that night, was he?”

Hermione scrambled up on the bed then and snuggled herself to Harry’s side.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered. “You should just run off, Harry. I have an aunt in Cardiff, I bet she’d let you stay with her. She’s always wanted kids.”

Harry turned his head so he could press an affectionate kiss to Hermione’s forehead.

“I’ll be fine,” he breathed with his lips still on her forehead and his nose in her hair. “Maybe this will be great, yeah? Sirius and I can bond… I can learn math and whatever tosh they teach in schools. And- and maybe we can find a way to keep in touch.”

The bedroom door opened quietly and Harry and Hermione didn’t bother moving as it was just Ron. Ron jumped up on the bed and landed naturally on Harry’s other side.

“You don’t even know where you’re going!” Hermione said tearfully. “How can we—”

“I know where he’s going,” Ron whispered.

Harry and Hermione gave Ron their rapt attention then. Ron slowly said the name of an airport he heard Sirius tell Remus was their final destination.

How Hermione knew that ‘O’Hare International’ was an airport in Chicago in the States was beyond Harry, but she started planning immediately.

Hermione always did have the biggest bollocks of the three of them. She found the address of the house Sirius bought when she went through Lupin’s belongings (and if Sirius and Lupin were that lax about addresses, perhaps it was why Pettigrew had been secret keeper). Hermione then snuck out from Grimmauld Place that night and went to a local library to print off research about Chicago for Harry and open him a post office box closest to his house.

Harry and Ron got a two-hour lecture the next day about the history of Chicago and some silver bean that Hermione swore Harry needed to see.

Eventually, Harry found the post office he’d been looking for and used three dollars to mail his letters. Lip gave Harry twenty for the car part he sold to some bloke in a garage before school, which meant Harry still had it and some change.

Harry felt an odd sense of freedom as he walked around after that. He had a bit of money in his pocket, something he never had in Little Whinging, and had nobody watching him or expecting him.

It was nice, if lonely.

Harry planned on trying to find the shop Ian worked at to buy a drink and find out about the bean thing - he was certain Hermione would ask about it in her next letter - and instead a girl found him.

Harry had just walked past a house when someone shouted after him, “Hey!”

“Yeah?” Harry turned around and saw a girl around his age staring at him from the porch of the house. She had long black hair with bangs cut to line across her forehead, and thick eyeliner drawn around her eyes.

“You’re the new kid, right?” the girl asked him. “A foreigner?”

Harry nodded and watched the girl jump over the shoddy chain fence that surrounded her front yard to approach him. Harry recognized her from school then, only because she had on a low cut shirt and skirt so short that Harry wondered if muggle schools in America had dress codes or not.

“I’m Mandy,” she said, smiling at Harry. “My cousins said you’re a queer.”

Harry blinked at her, rather taken back by that.

“Am I supposed to respond to that somehow?” Harry asked.

Mandy laughed and shook her head, showing off silver hoops in her ears that matched the one in her nose.

“Not if you don’t want to get your ass kicked again,” she said. “Are you lost?”

“A bit,” Harry admitted carefully. If her cousins were the blokes that kicked Harry’s arse the day before, then he didn’t want to have a repeat incident anytime soon.

Harry had plenty of practice squaring up against Dudley in fights, but three on one had been unfair and Harry went down before he even realized what was happening.

Mandy stepped up beside Harry as if she intended to walk with him. “Where are you trying to go?”

Harry explained his half-arsed plan for buying a drink and then finding the bean and Mandy laughed again.

“You really into that touristy crap?” she asked.

“I told my friend I’d see it,” Harry shrugged. “Mostly I’m just wasting time.”

“Okay, cool, I’ll waste time with you,” Mandy said. “Let me grab my shoes.”

Harry waited on the sidewalk while Mandy ran back inside her house. Harry had no idea why Mandy wanted to go with him, but he wasn’t going to complain about company if she didn’t plan on asking her cousins to fight him again.

Mandy rejoined Harry with a cropped black jacket and black combat boots on. She also had two glass bottles of what Harry assumed was beer.

“And you can use my brother’s bus pass,” Mandy told Harry. She gave Harry one of the bottles and a little laminated card. It said ‘Mickey Milkovich’ on it, but no photo.

“It’s a long walk and the buses are faster,” Mandy explained. She started walking confidently in the direction Harry had came from. “Now you can save your money and buy me a cotton candy.”

Harry laughed and pocketed the card.

“Alright then,” he agreed. He was a bit worried about the alcohol though. “Will we get in trouble for walking around with these?” he asked, holding up the bottle.

“Are you afraid of a little trouble?” Mandy asked teasingly.

“I don’t fancy jail, no,” Harry said truthfully.

Mandy took a long drink as if to show Harry that it was fine.

“Just finish it before we get on the bus,” she told him. “Come on.”

Harry didn’t particularly like to drink, but it was something cold that quenched his thirst while they walked.

Mandy was, Harry found out quickly, a talker. She asked Harry a few questions about England and then took over the conversation after that.

Harry listened carefully as Mandy described her family - she had a brother, a half-sister, a father, a dead mum, and five cousins that stayed at her house intermittently - and her friends - mostly blokes that wanted to shag her. She also asked Harry when his birthday was and then eagerly told him that they were both Leos as her birthday was almost exactly one week before his.

“That means we’re determined and stubborn,” Mandy told Harry when they were on the bus. “Oh, and quick-tempered.”

“That sounds about right,” Harry said thoughtfully. He learned more about zodiac signs and star alignments from Mandy than he ever had in Divination.

Mandy had her legs thrown over Harry’s on the bus ride and Harry naturally put his hand on her knee. He didn’t really think much about it, he and Hermione had occasionally sat like on the Gryffindor sofa, but apparently it meant something wildly different to Mandy.

Mandy leaned forward and put her mouth close to Harry’s ear.

“Are you trying to like finger-bang me on this bus?” she whispered.

“What?!” Harry raised his hands and knew his face had turned instantly red. “No, no I’m not.”

Merlin. Harry hoped nobody ever thought he was trying to ‘finger-bang’ Hermione when they’d been like that. It probably helped that all of Gryffindor knew Harry had been dating Fred, but still.

Mandy pulled back some so she could scowl in Harry’s face.

“Why not?” she asked hotly.

“Why am I not trying to… finger-bang you… on a bus in front of a bunch of bloody strangers?” Harry whispered slowly, trying to figure out why Mandy was suddenly upset with him.

“You could, if you wanted to,” Mandy said with a sly smile and flutter of her lashes. “We could give these pervs a show.”

Harry looked around at the other people on the bus and saw an old woman with knitting needles, a kid with headphones in, and a bloke in a suit tapping away on a phone.

“I don’t,” Harry said politely, not even remarking that he didn’t think any of the other passengers were ‘pervs’. Harry had taken his hands off Mandy, but she sighed then and slapped his hands back on her knee.

“Whatever,” Mandy said. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

Harry hummed noncommittally - he was fairly certain he wouldn’t change his mind, but he didn’t want to… hurt Mandy’s feelings?

Americans were bloody strange.

Mandy let the issue pass and Harry was relieved when she went right back to talking. They spent the rest of the bus ride discussing music. Mandy only liked bands Harry didn’t know and Harry only knew bands that Sirius had albums for.

When they arrived at their stop, Harry saw that it was a much nicer area of Chicago. The buildings were clean, the sidewalks weren’t broken, and there were loads of people walking around with happy smiles on their faces.

Mandy took Harry’s hand in hers and began leading him toward their destination with all the confidence of someone who grew up in the area. They didn’t have far to go before the crowds thickened and Harry saw a silver reflective statue in the background.

“Brilliant,” Harry said, genuinely impressed. Mandy pushed their way through the crowd until they were right in front of the statue. It was exactly what Hermione said it would be, a giant silver bean. When they stood just below the curve of the giant statue, Harry could look up at their reflections.

“I wish I had a camera,” Harry murmured regretfully. He hadn’t even considered buying a little disposable camera to take a photo to send back to Hermione.

“Be right back,” Mandy said. She let go of Harry’s hand and disappeared in the crowd.

Harry shuffled even closer to the statue and tentatively reached out to touch the slick and sun-heated surface. It made no sense to have a statue that was shaped like a bean, but maybe that was why they had it.

Either way, Harry liked it.

Harry didn’t have to wait long before Mandy found him again. This time, she had a fancy black camera in her hands.

“I stole it,” Mandy said proudly when Harry asked where it came from. She turned around so her back was to the statue and held the camera out. “Say cheese.”

Harry crowded close to Mandy and smiled while she snapped a picture.

“Now let’s get out of here before that bitch tries to take her camera back,” Mandy laughed. She put the camera around her neck and grabbed Harry’s hand again so she could pull him away.

Despite himself, Harry found himself having fun with Mandy. She led him to a pier that was set up like a festival with food stands, a giant ferris wheel, and a brilliant view of the water.

Harry bought Mandy a cotton candy and they split it on the ferris wheel after Mandy pickpocketed tickets for it from a bloke right after he bought them.

They also took a ton of photos as they laughed stupidly at the top of the ride. Mandy sat beside Harry and held the camera out so she could get a picture of her kissing his cheek with the water sparkling behind them.

When the sun began to set, Mandy led Harry to a quiet part of the pier where they could sit with their feet dangling over the edge and watch the water change colors. They had to climb over ropes and signs that said ‘do not enter’ to get there, but Harry figured it was the smallest law he’d broken that day.

“This was brilliant,” Harry told Mandy while they sat there. Mandy was leaning on Harry’s side and they had both been quiet while they looked out at the seemingly endless water.

“I haven’t been out here in years,” Mandy admitted. “Not since before my mom died.”

Harry tilted his head to touch hers lightly when he felt a bit of kindredness with her. Mandy was a lot different than Harry, a lot different, but Harry rather liked her.

“D’you miss her?” Harry asked, knowing it was a daft question but still asking it.

“I don’t think about her,” Mandy said. “It sucks less that way.”

Harry looked out at the dark blue water that was painted with orange streaks from the setting sun and hummed softly.

“I miss mine every day,” he said. “Every time I make a wish, I wish my mum was back so I could be with her.”

“You live with your dad?” Mandy asked.

“Uncle,” Harry said flatly. He didn’t know if it was just the moment that felt like a magical bubble where he could whisper secrets or if it was from the high of having spent an entire afternoon doing silly things with Mandy, but he felt compelled to be honest.

“I think I might hate him,” Harry told Mandy softly. “I thought I’d love him, I thought he’d love me, but he hates me now.”

Sirius acted as if Harry had ruined his life when it was Harry’s life that had been ruined.

“I hate my dad,” Mandy said fearlessly. “He’s a drunk bastard.”

“So is my uncle,” Harry said. “He’s sick, I think, like messed up in the head? But he had a shit life.”

“We all have shit lives,” Mandy said. “That doesn’t give them the right to take it out on us.”

Harry turned his head so he could look at Mandy and he felt a fierce rush of affection for her. Mandy put on a tough act with her tiny clothes and coy suggestions, but she seemed thoughtful and kind beneath that.

“You’re right,” Harry agreed. He laid his head back to touch hers and felt her arm wrap around his waist. “Thanks, Mandy, today’s been brilliant.”

“I wish it didn’t have to end.”

“Me too.”

It did though.

When it started to get dark, Mandy told Harry they needed to get back before they ‘got mugged by some jackass’.

Harry walked Mandy back to her house from the bus stop even though she laughed at him.

“I can handle myself a lot better than you can,” she said as she shouldered Harry, causing him to stumble and prove her point.

“Sorry for being polite,” Harry said haughtily. “Next time I’ll just let you get mugged, Mandy.”

“Whatever you say, Harryyy,” Mandy said.

They were still laughing when they approached her house, but Mandy quit suddenly when she saw a bloke sitting on the ledge of her porch.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” the bloke asked, pointing at Harry accusingly. He had dark hair that stood up in the front and thick eyebrows that were furrowed down.

“This is Harry,” Mandy said. “And this is my brother, Mickey.”

“Oh.” Harry took Mickey’s bus pass from his pocket and stepped up to the porch to offer it to him. “Thanks.”

“You stole my fuckin’ bus pass?” Mickey asked when he took it from Harry. Up close, Harry could see that he had a cut above one eye and grease smeared on the opposite side of his face that matched some of the stains on his tshirt.

“You stole it in the first place,” Mandy said. She pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek and smiled at him. “I’ll get these pictures developed before school tomorrow. Maybe we can get lunch together or smoke beforehand?”

“Sure,” Harry said. He watched Mandy strut inside with her hips swinging from side-to-side and grinned.

“You checkin’ out my sister’s ass?”

Harry quit grinning quickly when he saw that Mickey was still glaring at him.

“Er… no,” Harry lied. He backed up from the porch until he was on the sidewalk. “Night.”

“Hold up.” Mickey jumped down from the porch and Harry instinctively backed another step away.

“Where you headed?” Mickey asked.

“Home.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Mickey drawled with a roll of his eyes. “Where the fuck is your house at?”

“Wallace Street,” Harry said warily.

“I’ll walk you.”

Harry didn’t particularly want to be walked home by Mickey, considering he didn’t seem very friendly, but Harry also didn’t want to refuse and piss him off either.

“I know you,” Mickey said after a couple of blocks. He snapped his fingers and studied Harry’s face closely. “Yeah, my cousins told me about you. They said you’re a fag, but you didn’t seem like a fag when you were checkin’ out Mandy’s ass.”

“All I said to your cousins,” Harry sneered the word, “was ‘do you have a light?’ and then they decided to kick the shit out of me.”

Mickey laughed as if it were funny and Harry gave him a subtle and incredulous look. Americans were mental, Harry was certain.

“Yeah, they’re some dumbasses,” Mickey grinned. He stopped outside a house with boarded up windows and Harry watched him pull an actual gun from his pocket.

“Hold up.” Mickey pulled back a lever on the gun that made a clicking noise then aimed it at one of the boarded up windows. Harry jumped when he pulled the trigger and the bang echoed all around them.

“I want my fuckin’ money, Sosa!” Mickey yelled at the house. “Next time I’m aimin’ for your nuts.”

Mickey paused and lit a joint he had tucked behind his ear and then pocketed the gun in his waistband and just kept walking.

“What the hell was that?” Harry asked. He kept turning around to look at the house, sure that someone would pop out with a horrible injury.

“Business,” Mickey said carelessly. He held the joint out to Harry. “Wanna hit?”

“What kind of business?” Harry asked after taking a long hit and passing it back.

“The kinda business where if Sosa doesn’t pay me the money he owes me then I’m gonna blow his fuckin’ head off.”

Harry stopped outside his house, only lingering to finish smoking, and blinked slowly at Mickey.

“That seems like serious business,” Harry said. And then, possibly because it had been an absurd, brilliant, and ridiculous day, Harry laughed.

Harry laughing triggered Mickey to smile and then as Harry continued laughing, Mickey did as well.

“You’re alright, man.” Mickey slapped Harry on the shoulder and gave him the rest of the joint to finish off. “You ever hurt my sister though and I’ll give you a beat down so bad that you’ll wish you were dead.”

Harry shrugged, “Too late.”

Mickey laughed again, taking Harry’s words for a jest, and then turned to head back to his house.

“Stop by after school tomorrow and I’ll teach you the family business,” he called back to Harry.

“Sure,” Harry agreed. He wasn’t sure what the ‘family business’ was that involved shooting through windows and threatening to kill people, but it wasn’t as if Harry had Friday night plans anyway.

“Dude, your new buddy just made friends with Mickey,” Ian told his brother.

“Harry?” Lip asked. He was laying flat on his bed, flipping through a magazine. Ian had just been in Debbie’s room, changing Liam, and overheard Harry and Mickey from Debbie’s window.

“Yeah.” Ian flopped down on his bed and shook his head at the ceiling. “Think we should warn him?”

“Warn him that Mickey is a drug dealing, psychotic, trigger-happy, nut job?” Lip asked. “Nah. He’ll figure it out.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Ian asked Lip. “And then he ends up floating in a river because we didn’t warn him that Mickey’s bad news.”

Lip made a humming sound, as if he didn’t give a damn.

“Then he ends up floating in the river,” Lip said. “Hey, you know who else is bad news?”

“Who?”

“Kash.”

Ian rolled on his side and looked up at his brother. Lip was giving Ian his complete attention then and Ian didn’t like the look on his face.

“What’s wrong with Kash?” Ian asked. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Is he?” Lip asked. “I stopped by the store today, thought you were working?”

Ian looked away before Lip could see the lies in his eyes.

“Linda had me doing some deliveries,” he lied. “Must have missed you.”

Ian had spent the majority of his shift at the Kash-and-Dash in the back room with Kash. But telling his brother that he gave his boss a hummer and fucked him wasn’t exactly on Ian’s list of things he really wanted to do.

Not only would that out Ian, but it would out Kash as well. And Kash had his store, his wife, and his kids to think about. If it got out that Kash liked it up the ass, the neighborhood would probably burn down his store and run his family out of the city.

The south side wasn’t exactly gay-friendly.

“I bet you delivered something,” Lip said.

Ian looked back up at where Lip slept on the top bed above Carl’s and frowned.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Ian asked defensively.

“Nothin’,” Lip said casually. “Just be careful with him, Ian. He’s a grown ass man.”

“And I’m fifteen,” Ian said. If Ian was old enough to work, fight, and take on adult responsibilities that weren’t his, then he was old enough to fuck who he wanted to.

“Yeah, you’re fifteen,” Lip said. He flipped a page in his magazine and then held it up above his head. “What’s that make it if Kash touches you? Statutory something, right?”

Ian shot his brother a filthy look and then rolled on his side, facing the wall, before he gave anything away. Lip didn’t know shit. Just because he thought he was the brains of their family didn’t mean he got to pull that shit on Ian.

Kash was the only good thing Ian had in his life and he wasn’t giving it up for anyone.