Snitches get Stitches

Harry woke up late on Saturday morning. He’d been at Mandy’s house until nearly three and didn’t go to bed until four.

Mandy’s family was hysterical.

As terrifying as Mickey had been when they first met, Harry grew to quickly like him. He had a foul mouth, a shit temper, but - like Mandy - he seemed fiercely loyal to ‘his people’. And thanks to Mandy lying and telling her family that she and Harry were dating, it meant Harry was part of Mickey’s people.

Harry didn’t understand why Mandy said they were together until she said that ‘obviously Harry wasn’t a fag if they were boning’. They weren’t ‘boning’, so Harry assumed that Mandy was just being kind to say so.

Mandy’s cousins, Jamie, Iggie, and Tommy, had all even apologized for beating Harry up. Harry didn’t forgive them, really, but he did enjoy being able to talk without getting his arse kicked.

They spent most of Friday night teaching Harry their business, which seemed to be stealing and selling weapons. They also sold a lot of drugs that Harry didn’t recognize, but Mickey and Mandy only smoked weed. Mandy offered to let Harry stay the night with her and Harry only turned her down because they’d both been buzzed. Harry just didn’t want to be buzzed, lonely, and risk accidentally mistaking his fake girlfriend for a real girlfriend.

Or crawling in her brother’s bed, which had looked more and more tempting as the night wore on.

Harry wasn’t sure if he was imagining the looks Mickey gave him, but they looked an awful lot like the ones Fred used to.

“Hey, Potter.” Fred put his hand on the dinner table where Harry had been eating at and forcing Harry to look up at him.

Fred had his lips curved up just a little at the edges, not quite a smirk, but something a little more playful.

“What’s up?” Harry asked him curiously.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Fred asked.

It was meant to be the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, but Harry didn’t want to go. Half the school had on ‘Potter Sucks’ buttons and Ron still wasn’t speaking to Harry.

“Homework, probably,” Harry said. As much as he’d enjoy going to Hogsmeade with full permission for the first time, Harry would rather not be around the rest of the students.

“Wroooong,” Fred sang. Hermione looked up at him then too, probably offended that he was ignoring Harry’s homework plans.

“Go out with me instead,” Fred said. He smiled widely then and ran a hand through his hair in what Harry would call a nervous gesture if he thought Fred Weasley was a person to be nervous.

Harry’s mouth hung open in an idiotic expression as he stared at Fred, waiting for the punch line. Hermione giggled quietly and then lowered her face back to the book she held, though her eyes were still peeking at them over the top.

“I don’t get it,” Harry finally said. He tried to smile, be a good sport, but it was a rather cruel prank.

Harry should have known that when he and Ron got in their argument that he’d tell Fred about Harry’s humiliating crush.

“What’s not to get?” Fred asked. “Let me take you out tomorrow. It’ll be fun, I swear.”

Harry shrugged as if he wasn’t humiliated and hurt by the joke.

“Sure,” Harry said. He rolled his eyes to show that he was playing along, but then Fred beamed at him and ran off to sit with George. Harry watched them for a moment and saw the two of them high-five.

“That was interesting,” Hermione said in a giggly voice.

Harry poked at his food moodily as his appetite had vanished.

“You reckon he’ll jinx me to speak in songs for a week or just dump pig blood on me?” Harry asked Hermione rather bitterly.

Hermione lowered her book and frowned.

“Pigs blood?”

“Nevermind.” Harry waved his hand. That was stupid anyway, Harry had just seen it in a movie he’d watched with Dudley over the summer.

“Harry, you know he was serious, right?” Hermione asked Harry slowly. “Fred fancies you.”

“I’m so sure,” Harry drawled irritably. “Yeah, Fred Weasley has a crush on Harry Potter. It was a joke, Hermione.”

Hermione sighed and then subjected Harry to an entire lecture on signs that someone liked them.

Apparently Fred looking at Harry and grinning was a sign, as was the way that Fred was always finding a reason to talk to Harry. And the hair thing was another sign. There were a lot of signs, according to Hermione, and she swore Fred displayed almost all of them.

Harry had been skeptical, but he shouldn’t have doubted Hermione.

Fred had been genuine about taking Harry on a date. The two of them broke their broomsticks out and flew around the empty quidditch pitch for hours as they talked and laughed. Then when Hermione returned from Hogsmeade and told Harry that Hagrid wanted to see him, Fred went with Harry.

And once they saw the dragon, Fred just sort of never left Harry’s side.

But Mickey grinned at Harry a lot and messed his hair up when he caught Harry looking at him, so maybe Hermione was only right about Fred.

Harry could hear Sirius already awake downstairs, so Harry planned to stay quietly in his room. He’d been successful in avoiding Sirius since the night he stayed at Lip’s place, but sleeping in had messed up his plans.

It did give Harry a chance to write a new letter to Hermione though. He didn’t write anything lengthy, just a quick letter to send the pictures with.

Hermione,
The bean was weird, but also brilliant. The girl in the pictures with me is my friend, Mandy. We went to a pier and rode a ferris wheel. I’m having a great time. I miss you all still.
Give Hedwig extra head scratches for me.
-Harry
PS: ignore my face, I’m fine, I fell off a ladder

Harry had just stuffed a couple of the pictures Mandy developed in the envelope when his door opened. Harry subtly slid the envelope under one of his school textbooks and watched warily as Sirius entered his room.

Sirius looked healthier, happier, since they left London, but Harry never saw him actually smiling anymore. He probably smiled when Harry wasn’t around, but ever since Harry returned from the dungeon he’d been locked in and Sirius called him a death eater, Sirius never smiled around Harry.

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS!”

“IT’S MEANT TO BE AN HONOR, HARRY! WHY WOULD HE BRAND YOU IF HE WASN’T OFFERING YOU A PLACE IN HIS RANKS?!”

“Oh, yeah, he asked me to join him right after he TORTURED ME FOR A BLOODY WEEK! WE BONDED OVER HIM KILLING MY PARENTS!”

“YOU LOOK LIKE A DEATH EATER!”

Harry had no idea that Sirius’ hatred of anything even slightly dark ran so deep until he was brought to Grimmauld Place after the dementor attack in Little Whinging. Lupin told Harry it was because of Sirius’ family and that he’d see reason, but Harry didn’t know if Sirius had the ability to see reason or if he lost it in Azkaban.

“Hey.” Sirius looked at a spot just north of Harry’s eyes. “I made lunch.”

“Okay,” Harry said uncertainly.

Sirius cleared his throat and seemed as uncomfortable as Harry was.

“I meant to say that I made lunch and maybe we could eat together?” Sirius said. He shrugged one shoulder up. “Or not, I don’t care.”

Harry wanted to ask how they were meant to eat together when Sirius couldn’t even look at him? If Sirius didn’t care, why was he offering?

But Harry took it as a white flag offering and carefully stacked his textbooks up and nodded.

“Alright.”

Sirius turned around immediately and made his way downstairs, leaving Harry to follow behind him. Their upstairs was rather empty, since it was a four-bedroom and they only needed two rooms, but Sirius had told Harry he could have the bedroom at the end of the hallway in addition to his room to ‘do whatever with’.

What that would be, Harry had no idea.

Mickey had a gym in his garage though, so maybe Harry would put one in that room. If Harry ever made it back to London, he could empty his vault at Gringotts, convert the coins to American dollars, and then just buy a bunch of equipment.

It was one idea, anyway.

Harry followed Sirius down the back stairs for the kitchen and saw that Sirius had put two plates of fish and chips on the table. There was a bottle of some sort of liquor by one plate so Harry sat at the setting with the can of soda.

“Thanks for cooking,” Harry said.

“I only know how to cook maybe three things,” Sirius said.

Harry looked around at the mess that Sirius left in the kitchen. There were pans of grease dripping on the stove and probably more dirty utensils than he needed strewn on every counter.

“I’ll clean up,” Harry offered.

Sirius brushed him off while he made himself a drink.

“Don’t bother. I can just… just…” Sirius looked up at Harry, but not quite in his eyes. “I’ll just do it.”

Harry nodded when he understood that to mean Sirius would use magic to do it.

It was so painfully awkward while they sat together and had nothing to say to each other. Harry picked at his food that was actually rather good, but Sirius only grunted when Harry told him that.

“I haven’t seen you around lately,” Sirius said after he finished his drink. Harry wondered if Voldemort knew by marking Harry that he would cause Harry’s own godfather to need liquor to speak to him.

He probably didn’t, but Harry was sure he’d be glad to know about it.

“I’ve been at school,” Harry said.

“I’m not stupid,” Sirius snapped. “I know you’ve got school. I meant after school.”

Sirius was the moodiest damn person that Harry had ever met. And Sirius getting pissy only made Harry get pissy and Harry would rather not fight first thing in his day.

“I assumed you’d prefer I not be around more than I have to,” Harry said coolly.

Sirius’ eyes flashed with irritation.

So much for not fighting.

“Did I say that?” Sirius asked. “No. This is your house too, Harry, you can be here whenever you like.”

“Good, so as infrequently as possible then.”

Sirius slammed his hand on the table and Harry twitched in his seat.

Sirius might have spent twelve years in Azkaban, but Harry spent seven days at the nonexistent mercy of Voldemort and his followers. Harry earned a bit of a startle response.

“I don’t know you at all,” Sirius said while he glared at the table. “You’d think that if you’re so worried about Voldemort, you’d be grateful to be here.”

“Grateful?” Harry laughed bitterly at Sirius’ audacity. “Yeah, it’s a real bloody party, isn’t it? My wand was snapped, people think I killed Cedric, AND I AM LOCKED IN HERE WITH YOU!”

“Poor Harry,” Sirius mocked him. If Harry cared anymore, he’d probably cry at having someone he’d loved so much talk to him like that.

It was a thousand times worse than Ron mocking him after he’d been chosen as a champion.

“You’re always the victim,” Sirius said harshly. “Take some responsibility.”

“That’s real rich coming from you,” Harry scowled. “You talked my parents into making Pettigrew secret keeper and when he betrayed them, did you take responsibility as godfather? No. You left me to chase the rat and then decided killing him was your first priority when you escaped!”

“HE KILLED JAMES!” Sirius screamed. “AND YOU LET HIM LIVE! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THEN!”

“KNOWN WHAT, SIRIUS?” Harry yelled. He stood up when Sirius did and suddenly they were in each others faces, glaring hatefully. “WHAT SHOULD YOU HAVE KNOWN?”

“THAT YOU WERE ONE OF THEM!” Sirius screamed wildly. He had a crazy look in his eyes, as if he weren’t truly there. “YOU SWORE YOU WOULDN’T AND AS SOON AS I TURN MY BACK, YOU LET THEM BRAND YOU!”

A small and logical part of Harry’s brain told him that Sirius sounded mental, he sounded as if he were talking to someone else. Harry never swore he wouldn’t take the dark mark, it was just a given—

The grass is green.

The snitch is golden.

Harry Potter would never willingly be branded by Voldemort.

It was like a bad poem about common sense.

Unfortunately, the rest of Harry’s brain was caught up in having Sirius scream in his face and couldn’t think of a way to defuse the situation. Instead, Harry unintentionally made it worse.

“Did you think I wanted to?” Harry hissed at him. He yanked his sleeve up to show the hideous mark that still burned at random times. “DO YOU THINK I SAID ‘YES PLEASE, I’D LIKE A DARK MARK’?”

Sirius abruptly pushed Harry so hard in the chest that Harry fell backward and tripped over the chair he’d abandoned. Harry felt something twinge in his right wrist when he caught himself on the floor and a hot pain shot up his arm. Harry didn’t hear anything snap though, so he assumed it was a sprain.

“You’re no brother of mine,” Sirius spat down at Harry. He stared at the exposed mark on Harry’s arm and his face twisted to something cruel. “You’re just like them.”

One day, Harry was going to learn to shut his mouth. That day wasn’t there yet.

“Yeah? YOU JUST SPRAINED MY FUCKING WRIST, SIRIUS!” Harry jumped up and shoved Sirius right back in the chest with his left hand. “I GUESS THE APPLE DIDN’T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE!”

Harry knew it was a low blow. Lupin told him that Sirius’ parents had been cruel to him, and Harry knew Sirius was sick in the head.

But Harry was sick too. He was sick to death of going from place to place only to be hated. It was as if there was something wrong with Harry that people just despised him.

As usual, that thought made Harry miss his parents. He didn’t even know them, but two people willing to die for Harry had to love him more than they even loved each other.

Harry should have expected it and ducked, but it still caught him off guard when Sirius pulled his hand back and slapped Harry hard enough on the side of his face that Harry reeled backward from the blow.

Sirius snatched his bottle of liquor off the table before grabbing the edge with one hand and flipping the whole table over, dishes and all. Harry moved in time to avoid being hit by the table, then he just sort of stood in place, frozen in surprise.

“Don’t come crying to me when your Master gets tired of using you,” Sirius sneered before he stormed off toward the living room. Harry waited in the kitchen until he heard the front door open and then slam shut.

As soon as Harry was sure Sirius left, he did a quick assessment. His wrist was limp at his side and actually burned quite a bit, but Harry was more concerned with leaving before Sirius came back than he was his wrist.

Harry ran upstairs quickly and stuffed his letter to Hermione in his backpack along with a change of clothes and his trainers. A quick trip in Sirius’ room earned Harry a green bill with a ten on it to add to the five he still had and a half-empty pack of cigarettes.

Maybe Harry would take Mandy up on her offer to stay the night after all. She said her dad was a bastard, but he was also in prison, so Harry liked his chances.

Since Sirius went out front, Harry went out back. Harry planned to just slip through the back gate to use the alley behind his house to get to Mandy’s, but he was stopped when he passed the Gallagher house.

“Hey, Gary!”

Harry looked over and saw Ian grinning at him from the back steps of his house. Harry lifted his hand in a wave while carefully keeping the side of his face Sirius just smacked as out of sight as he could.

“Harry,” Harry reminded him for probably the tenth time since meeting.

“Harry, right, sorry.” Ian hopped up and then gave Harry an odd look. “Someone steal your shoes?” he asked.

Harry looked down at his socked feet and shrugged.

“I didn’t feel like putting my shoes on,” he said evasively.

“Where you headed?” Ian asked. “Because most businesses require a shirt and shoes.”

Harry knew Ian was joking, but Harry was in a shit mood.

“Mandy’s,” he said shortly. Harry planned to just start walking, but Ian stopped him again.

“I heard you and your uncle fighting,” he said. He tilted his head and looked directly at the hot side of Harry’s face. “Everything okay?”

“Brilliant,” Harry said flatly. “I gotta go.”

“You want V to check you over?”

Harry sighed, loudly, in complete annoyance. Every time Harry tried to leave, Ian found an excuse to keep him longer.

Then Harry’s wrist twinged again and he reconsidered.

“Is V short for Veronica?” Harry asked. Lip mentioned a Veronica, one who was a nurse that he said Harry should go to if he ever needed ‘patched up’. And Harry doubted that Mandy had anything to wrap Harry’s wrist in, but Veronica might.

“Yeah, she’s inside with Kevin,” Ian said. “C’mon.”

Harry followed Ian inside his house and found that it was rather packed. All of the Gallagher siblings were crowded inside the kitchen along with a man and woman that Harry didn’t know.

The man was tall, taller than Ian who was the tallest in his house, and had a long brown ponytail down his back that matched the scruffy beard on his face. The woman was laughing about something with Fiona and had her black hair in tiny braids that were pulled up in pigtails.

“Oh, shit,” the woman, Veronica, Harry assumed, stopped laughing as soon as she saw Harry. “Who is this?”

“Don’t tell me Monica dropped off another of you fucks,” the man said, Kevin, probably. He was sitting on the washing machine and flashed a white smile at Harry.

“Nah, it’s Harry, he lives next door.” Lip sat at the table with Debbie, Carl, and Liam and was counting a stack of money while smoking.

Harry was beginning to think that Lip could do anything while he had a cigarette. It was his super power, or something.

“The fuck happened to your face?” Kevin asked Harry. “You look busted.”

“I fell,” Harry lied smoothly. He looked at Veronica nervously and held up his right hand. “Lip said you’re a nurse?” he said. “I think I sprained my wrist.”

“Mhmm, that happen when you fell too?” Veronica asked with a skeptical hum to her voice. She came around the kitchen counter and pointed to a chair at the table. “Sit, let me look at it.”

Harry obediently sat down and bit his bottom lip hard when Veronica began twisting his wrist around.

“Oh, yeah, this is sprained,” Veronica said. “Ian, run to my house and grab a black brace from my cabinet and some painkillers.”

“Not too many, he’s kinda skinny,” Kevin said. He had gotten up from the washer and was frowning at Harry from behind Veronica. “Who fucked you up, kid? The Milkovich boys?”

“Don’t be a dumbass, Kev,” Veronica tsk’d. She grabbed Harry’s chin and tilted his face from side-to-side while Harry blushed hotly. “You gotta start hitting back, kid. Fuck him up.”

Harry didn’t bother saying he fell again. It was probably obvious he didn’t and he wasn’t going to talk about it with them anyway.

“Harry’s a Gallagher in the making,” Lip said, thankfully taking the direct attention off Harry. “He helped me steal that carburetor I sold Jim the other day.”

“Lip! Don’t ruin the neighbor!” Fiona told Lip. “Jesus. He just moved in.”

“Hey, it was Harry’s idea.” Lip winked at Harry and Harry grinned. “Besides, he’s going with me to try and get the money for the utility bills tonight.”

“I am?” Harry said.

“You’re not watching Liam tonight?” Fiona asked.

“What are we stealing?” Carl asked with a crazy smile.

“You are, Ian is, and you’re not coming,” Lip answered them all one at a time. When Harry gave Lip a bemused look, he shrugged and went back to counting the money in his hand before stuffing it in a blue jar.

“You gotta learn how to make money around here,” Lip said, apparently to Harry. “When you’re poor, you gotta steal money or scam money.”

“Or sell drugs and guns,” Harry said. He meant it as a joke, but nobody laughed and so Harry scowled at his backpack that he’d tossed on the floor.

“Oh, man.” Kevin huffed out a sigh. “You’ve been hanging out with the Milkovich’s, haven’t you? Oh, yeah, they saw some innocent little tea-sipping foreigner and started using him to mule drugs around.”

Carl leaned his chair back and grinned at Harry. “Do you put the drugs in your ass?” he asked.

“Carl! Jesus!” Fiona said.

“I don’t put drugs in my arse and I’m not selling them, it was a joke,” Harry explained.

“Uh huh.” Kevin squinted at Harry. “If you need money that bad, just steal some shit from Walmart and then return it for a gift card.”

Harry pretended as if any of that made sense and nodded, “Thanks.”

Ian burst through the back door then with a white pill bottle in one hand and a black wrap in his other hand.

“Got it!” he said. He thrust the supplies at Veronica, “Here.”

“Hand,” Veronica ordered Harry. He held his hand out and watched as Veronica wrapped the brace around it tightly, keeping his wrist from bending much. “And here,” Veronica opened the pill bottle and dumped two white pills in Harry’s hand. “You ever take oxy before?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Harry said truthfully.

Veronica took one pill back and swallowed it herself. “Only one for you then,” she said.

“You’re a nurse?” Harry checked. He wasn’t just going to take a pill without being sure, but Veronica just took one herself so it couldn’t be anything terrible or poisonous.

“Only one you’ll find around here.”

Harry knew he was being reckless, rash, but it wasn’t as if he had a lot going for him in life anyway.

“Cheers then,” Harry said before tossing the pill back and swallowing it dry.

“Fuck, you’re high,” Lip laughed. He felt bad for Harry, getting beat up at home and then babied by Veronica and Kevin, so he thought it might help Harry out to have something to do. And Lip already had plans to make the last couple of hundred bucks they needed to get caught up on the utilities, he didn’t think bringing Harry along would be a big deal.

Except Harry was high on oxy and making Lip laugh his ass off. Weed chilled Harry out, but oxy apparently made him giggly and talkative.

And clumsy. Lip had to reach out and grab Harry’s arm when he tripped over his own feet.

“Hey, good news,” Harry said, smiling over at Lip like a dumbass. “My wrist feels better.”

“I bet it does,” Lip laughed. He kept his hand on Harry’s elbow to keep him from falling again and then hushed him. “You think you can be quiet for five fucking minutes?”

“I can try,” Harry whispered loudly. He looked at the store they approached through the alley. “What are we doing?”

Lip patted the empty duffel bag he had over his shoulder. “Stealing shit to pawn.”

“Brilliant!” Harry cried happily. He pointed at the sign on the back of the building. “Look! A pawn shop!”

“Oh you adorably stoned idiot,” Lip sighed. He ruffled Harry’s hair and then carefully guided him to sit on a bucket outside the shop. “Sit, be quiet, I’ll be back in five. If you see the cops, pretend to faint, you’ll never outrun them like this.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. He smiled entirely too brightly at Lip. “If the police come, I’ll scream ‘LIP! POLICE!’”

“You do that,” Lip chuckled. He took his shirt off and wrapped it around his hand before pulling his fist back and breaking the glass. Lip carefully reached through the window to unlock the backdoor and sent one more glance at Harry before he went inside.

“Don’t move,” Lip whispered to him. “I’ll be right back.”

Harry nodded before leaning his head back against the brick wall and he started singing to himself.

Lip had been casing the pawn shop out for weeks and even if he had a stoned and giggly coconspirator, Lip felt good about getting in and getting out. The camera lines were clipped, the owners were out of town, and as long as Lip peeled off any identifying labels, he could catch the train to Indiana and pawn the shit in Gary.

It only took Lip eight minutes - a personal best - to fill the bag with enough video game systems, tools, and jewelry that it would have to cover their back-owed utility bills. The squirrel fund was their money for the winter, but Fiona dropped the ball on the utilities over the summer so they either had to use their winter money or get creative.

Lip was especially creative.

When Lip snuck out the backdoor with a bag full of soon-to-be-cash, Harry was still sitting on the bucket and singing.

“Come on, Pablo.” Lip bent over and grabbed Harry’s shoulders to haul him to his feet.

“It’s Harry,” Harry said sounding exhausted. He let Lip pull him to his feet and then leaned on his side. “Your brother calls me Gary.”

Yeah, Lip had his own hypothesis’s on why Ian always called Harry ‘Gary’ when he saw him. They went right along with Lip’s hypothesis that Ian and his creepy old boss, Kash, were fucking.

Lip looked over at Harry and tried to look at him critically. He wasn’t bad looking, for a dude. He was kind of fragile looking, the handprint on his cheek notwithstanding, but he was a hell of a lot closer to Ian’s age than Kash was too.

“Hey, Harry, you gay?” Lip asked Harry casually.

“Mmm, no, I’m dating Mandy,” Harry said, surprising the fuck out of Lip.

“Mandy Milkovich?” Lip asked.

“Yup. I like her, she’s a Leo.”

“Alright then,” Lip said. “My bad. Way to go, Harry.” Lip jostled him at his side and grinned.

Mandy Milkovich was hot even if she was a psy—

“But I miss Fred,” Harry sighed.

Lip stopped in the middle of the alley so he could actually turn Harry to face him by his shoulders.

“Who the fuck is Fred?” Lip asked slowly, staring right in Harry’s dilated pupils.

“We broke up because I had to move here,” Harry said all sad and pathetic. “I told him to move on.”

“Maybe keep that to yourself,” Lip told him. He tossed his arm back around Harry’s shoulders to walk him to his house. “It’s not exactly a pride parade around here.”

“No shit,” Harry muttered.

Lip laughed again and then listened to Harry talk about his trip to go see the Cloud Gate and Navy Pier. Harry spoke with his hands a lot, which kept knocking his dumb ass off balance, so Lip kept a steady hold of him while they walked through the alleys to get back.

“What’s wrong with him?” Fiona asked when Lip helped Harry through the back door of the Gallagher house. She had some sort of pasta boiling on the stove and only looked away from it long enough to see Harry tripping over the last step to get in the door.

“First time taking oxy,” Lip said. “Is it cool if he crashes here? I gotta get to Gary today.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow at Lip. “Why are we bringing home strays, Lip?”

“Oi! I’m not a dog!” Harry cried indignantly. Then he giggled like an idiot. “Or a kitten,” he added.

“He’s not a stray, he’s our neighbor,” Lip said defensively. “Look at him, Fi, he’s a mess.”

The kid was going to get swallowed alive in the ghetto if someone didn’t help him out. That’s all Lip was doing, being a bro.

“Mhmm, I see him,” Fiona said. She shrugged and went back to cooking. “I expect this shit from Ian, not you.”

Lip didn’t know what ‘shit’ Fiona meant, but he was on a time crunch and couldn’t stay to argue either.

“I’m going to put him in my bed, then I’m headed out,” Lip told his sister. “Ian said he’s watching everyone tonight so you can go out, I’ll be at Karen’s.”

“Who’s Karen?” Harry asked him while Lip helped him up the stairs.

“A girl I’m fucking,” Lip said bluntly.

“D’you love her?”

Karen was hot, Karen was kinky, and she was a good time. But Karen was also fucking crazy and probably sleeping with half the senior class.

“Hell no,” Lip said. He steered Harry to the ladder to get to the top bunk. “Up you go. I’ll be back in the morning. You good here?”

“Mhmm.” Harry was already curling up in Lip’s bed with his eyelids drooping. “Hey, Lip?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my best mate here.”

Lip laughed and shook his head at the super stoned teenager grinning at him.

“Go to sleep, Harry,” Lip told him. “If you wake up later, Ian’ll be around.”

“‘Kay.”

Lip laughed to himself as he left. He’d have to make a note somewhere that whatever dose of oxy V gave Harry was too much. Considering the rate that Harry got himself in shit situations, Lip doubted it would be the last time he needed pain killers.