Snitches get Stitches

There were very few people that knew Harry that would describe him as weak.

Harry (stupidly) went after the stone at eleven.

Harry (stupidly) caught the snitch after shattering his arm.

Harry (stupidly) fought a basilisk with nothing more than a sword and a Phoenix.

Harry (stupidly) traveled back in time to confront dementors and a werewolf.

Harry (stupidly) outflew a dragon and withstood a week of torture at the hands of Voldemort.

So Harry was a bit reckless and stupid, but he wasn’t weak.

By Thursday though, Harry was nearly in tears born of exhaustion as much as they were pain.

Harry’s left arm had been burning nearly nonstop since Sunday night and it was making him miserable. Harry had been so desperate the night before that he spent a long time staring at a kitchen knife and debating on actually chopping the limb off. It would have been easier to only cut off the skin and let it regrow, but Harry had been painfully conscious the entire time it was applied and he knew it went clear to the bone.

The only way to remove it was to remove the arm.

It had been tempting, Harry had his right hand wrapped around the handle of the knife, then Officer Tony knocked on the door to return Sirius and Harry was shaken from his reverie.

That morning though, Harry had to force himself to walk down the stairs and he nearly fell on his face as it was. Remus was already in the kitchen, as he usually was on school mornings, and Harry decided to do something truly desperate.

Beg.

“Remus, please, you have to do something.” Harry walked right up to him and brandished his left arm. “Cut it off, please.”

“What?” Remus looked startled and he put down his mug of coffee to gingerly grasp Harry’s left arm with one hand under his elbow and the other on his wrist. “Harry, what’s wrong with your arm?”

“It’s the bloody mark,” Harry said. He knew he was awfully close to whining, but it was constant pain. It felt as if the very inside of his skin was having razor blades dragged across it. Harry thought he’d get accustomed to it after the first two days of it, but it hadn’t let up any.

Harry couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t focus in class. Mandy kept asking if he was okay. Even Ian mentioned that Harry looked like hell the day before. Mickey offered to give Harry a free sample of meth, that was how terrible Harry apparently looked.

Remus slowly rolled up Harry’s sweater sleeve, careful not to touch the mark, and let out a soft hiss between his teeth when he looked at it. The entire arm was red and inflamed. The black mark stood out in a stark contrast and the eyes of the skull seemed to mock Harry when he looked down at it.

“Severus said it should only burn when they’re being summoned,” Remus said, as if to himself. He very gently placed his fingertip against it and Harry let out a sound of misery when it caused the spot to erupt in flames.

“How long has it been like this?” Remus asked as he released Harry’s arm. He turned to the sink and grabbed a washcloth that he held beneath the cold water.

“All week,” Harry said. “I just… I’d rather have no arm, Remus.”

Remus frowned when he handed Harry the cold cloth and it did little to ease the pain in Harry’s arm.

“I’ll leave today and go speak with Albus,” Remus said. “Perhaps he or Severus knows of something less drastic to treat it. Has your scar been bothering you?”

Harry raised his right hand up and touched the scar hidden beneath his hair.

“No,” he said truthfully. “Not since before… well, you know.”

Not since before the graveyard.

Remus nodded in understanding and then summoned a bag to come flying in the kitchen from upstairs. Harry recognized the medical logo on the front of the navy colored bag and it only took Remus a second to pull a pain relieving potion from it.

“It won’t work,” Harry sighed. He shrugged when Remus quirked a brow at him. “I took one from Sirius on Tuesday and swiped muggle pain killers from Veronica yesterday.”

“And it had no effect?” Remus asked even as he replaced the pain potion with a familiar looking orange one that Harry couldn’t think of its use.

“Take this just in case of infection,” Remus said after Harry shook his head. Remus grinned when Harry drank it and made a disgusted face.

“Do you think you refrain from amputating your arm before I return Sunday night?” Remus asked seriously while Harry drank as much water straight from the tap as he could to rinse the taste from his mouth.

“I honestly don’t know,” Harry told him. He lifted the rag from his arm and let Remus feel how hot it already was even after such a brief time. “If a wild animal comes after it, I probably don’t run.”

“If a wild animal attacks you in this neighborhood this weekend then I give you complete permission to feed your left arm to it,” Remus said just as sardonically as Harry had been.

Except if Harry could find a tiger or something then he might feed his arm to it. That was what Voldemort drove Harry to, to dreaming of having only one arm.

Remus had cooked breakfast - Remus was actually a man of many talents and Harry grabbed two extra breakfast muffins to take for Mandy. And just before Harry left to walk to school, he impulsively bent down and hugged Remus.

“Thank you,” Harry said genuinely, if a bit gruffly. It meant a lot to Harry to have someone take his concerns seriously. It would be easy for Remus to brush off Harry’s pain, but instead he was going to journey to Hogwarts on the day before the full moon just to try and get Harry some relief.

“Of course.” Remus returned Harry’s hug tightly and then gave him a fond smile. “Do try and keep out of trouble this weekend, hm?”

Harry smiled innocently. “Me? Trouble? You’ve got the wrong bloke, Remus. Be safe, I’ll see you Sunday.”

Remus looked exasperated as Harry strut out the door and went over to the Gallaghers to catch up with Ian.

… and Lip, who Harry refused to speak with, smoke with, or look at until he apologized to Mandy.

Ian was quiet on their walk to school, though Harry wasn’t in the most talkative mood either. Ian asked if Harry did their biology homework and Harry gave him the worksheet in exchange for copying Ian’s math homework.

Harry didn’t have to be good at all the subjects at his muggle school, he only needed to make one friend that was excellent in each class. Hermione would be appalled, but Harry thought it was a rather cunning plan.

Ian was excellent at math, Mandy was good at English. Lip was annoyingly brilliant in all the subjects, but Harry wasn’t speaking to him.

Mandy was waiting for Harry just outside the school as usual. Harry forced a grin when she kissed him and he handed over the muffins he brought for her.

“I think you have a fat kink,” Mandy complained even as she peeled the wrapper off one of the muffins and took a bite. Harry sat on the little brick ledge that wrapped around their school and lit a cigarette to split with Ian while they waited for the bell to ring.

Lip went inside by himself, but Harry ignored him.

“Remus is always cooking,” Harry told Mandy after passing the cigarette to Ian. “I’m the one who’s going to end up fat.”

“Pft,” Ian scoffed and then took a long drag from the cigarette. “You could both gain twenty pounds each and still not be fat.”

“Says you,” Harry complained. Her eyed Ian irritably. “You’re fit as hell.”

Ian raised his chin and smirked smugly.

“I work out every single day,” he said proudly. “You could too, if you want. It’s all ROTC exercises that I’ll use in basic.”

Harry grimaced while he considered it. Harry didn’t mind working out, he liked it when they did Quidditch conditioning, but Harry could barely lift his left arm without wanting to scream.

“Yeah, maybe next week,” Harry said.

Either Remus would find a solution or Harry would convince him to chop his arm off. Either way, Harry would like to be as fit as Ian was.

Harry was dragging through the entire day. The only thing that kept him awake by seventh period was the fire in his arm and the ridiculous texts from Dudley.

Dudley sent a rose emoji, Harry sent back a middle finger.

Dudley sent a laughing emoji, Harry sent one rolling its eyes.

Dudley sent two little hand emojis, one with an index finger pointing out toward a circle the other hand was making. Harry sent back a yellow face with a flat line for a smile.

It did actually make Harry snicker, but he didn’t want to give Dudley a big head.

Mandy walked with Harry after school. They went to the post office first and Harry actually sighed aloud when he saw another letter with familiar handwriting on it.

“Is your arm still hurting?” Mandy asked, misunderstanding Harry’s annoyance.

“It won’t when I cut it off,” Harry said seriously.

Mandy linked her arm in Harry’s right arm and tilted her head in his shoulder while they began walking back to his house. Harry was meant to stay with Kevin and Veronica that night, but he still needed to grab clothes for school the next morning.

“If you try and cut your arm off you’ll end up with a grippy sock vacation,” Mandy warned him. When Harry admitted to having no idea what that meant, she explained.

“You do something bat shit crazy like cutting off an arm and hospital will send you to the psych ward,” Mandy said. She rolled up her sleeve on her free arm and pointed to a row of silver scars Harry never noticed before.

“See? I’ve been there twice,” Mandy said factually. Harry was still staring at her scars while it dawned on him what they were from.

“Mandy…” Harry looked up at Mandy and hated the way that life was so cruel to someone as sweet as Mandy.

Mandy was what Remus called ‘rough around the edges’, but Harry genuinely adored her. Harry liked her loud laughter and her witty comments. Harry liked that Mandy always wanted to be touching, even when it was purely platonic. Harry couldn’t help but feel like he and Mandy had a lot of bad shit in common like their dead mums and the knowledge they both had of what it was like to truly be hungry to the point of desperation.

Harry grabbed Mandy’s hand and raised her wrist to his mouth and pressed a kiss on every single scar she had.

“Do you still do that?” Harry asked her quietly. They were nearly to his house by then, but Harry slowed down some so they could continue talking.

“No.” Mandy hid her scars beneath her shirt sleeve with as much obvious discomfort as Harry covered his left arm with.

“I did it more, before my dad went to prison,” she said, looking down at the sidewalk. “Mickey had me committed twice. They just pumped me full of medicine and sent me home.”

“Is it bad that your dad’s back?” Harry asked curiously. Mandy didn’t talk about her dad much, besides saying he was a drunk and a bastard. Mickey never talked about him either, outside of Warning Harry to not be caught in Mandy’s bed while he was home.

Even Mandy’s cousins that Harry had gotten to know didn’t talk about him.

“I don’t know.” Mandy changed the subject so quickly that Harry kind of thought it was a bad thing he was home from prison.

“Where’s Remus at this weekend anyway?” Mandy asked abruptly. “And why is he making you stay with the neighbors? You’re not a baby.”

Harry opened the front door for Mandy and tossed his backpack on the couch after taking Fred’s letter from the pocket.

“I reckon he doesn’t trust me,” Harry said as he led Mandy up to his room. “He had some business he said he had to take care of and it’s just easier if I stay with Kevin and V.”

“So you don’t get in a fight with Sirius,” Mandy said knowingly. She flopped on Harry’s bed and immediately kicked her platform boots off.

“Precisely,” Harry agreed absently. He hesitated in front of his desk, torn by equal desires.

Harry wanted to read the letter from Fred and know that he didn’t immediately forget Harry.

Harry wanted to forget Fred and the life Harry had before.

Harry just tucked the letter safely inside his photo album and then shed his sweater so he could jump on the bed beside Mandy.

“You know…” Harry trailed a finger up Mandy’s thigh, above her leggings and beneath the hem of her skirt. “I don’t have to be at Kevin’s until later…”

Mandy caught Harry’s mood immediately.

Sex didn’t completely distract Harry from the fire burning through his arm, but it worked better than potions or pills.

Afterward, Harry and Mandy took a shower together - water conservation and all - and then split a joint while Harry made them each a sandwich.

“You should just stay here,” Mandy suggested with a coy smile. She wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist from behind while he worked at the counter. “We can cuddle… and fuck. Watch a movie… and fuck. Cook together…”

“And fuck?” Harry guessed with a laugh.

Mandy swatted Harry’s shoulder playfully and stuck her nose upward.

“I was going to say cook together and eat, you pig,” Mandy said. She was the one who laughed when Harry spun around and began tickling the sides of her stomach mercilessly.

“I give! I give!” Mandy squealed. “Okay! We can fuck!”

Harry laughed and took a moment to truly appreciate Mandy. Aside from the obvious good looks Mandy had, there was something special about seeing her smile.

“You’re pretty,” Harry told her, smiling softly as he admired Mandy’s smile. Mandy blushed and rolled her eyes when she reached around Harry to snatch one of the sandwiches he made.

“And you’re like practically blind without your contacts,” Mandy sniffed. She looked pleased with the compliment though so Harry vowed to compliment her more often.

Harry was genuinely considering betraying Remus’ trust and staying home for the weekend. It was a terrible way to repay Remus’ kindness, but Harry very much would rather spend the next few days in his own bed - preferably with Mandy - instead of on Kevin’s sofa. Even dealing with Sirius didn’t seem as daunting.

Remus said that his presence tended to shock Sirius into the present, but Harry was hoping that Sirius was just… getting better. Maybe being away from his family’s house and almost all the reminders of Azkaban were helping him.

And if Remus couldn’t find a way to fix the pain in Harry’s arm then he’d chop it off and all the reminders of Azkaban and the death eaters would disappear for Sirius.

Unfortunately, all of Harry’s half-arsed plans of hiding out at home all weekend were crushed when Kevin knocked on the front door.

“Harry, hey!” Kevin was bouncing on the balls of his feet when Harry answered the door. There was something sort of manic about the smile on his face and Harry eyed him warily.

“I need you to hurry up and come over,” Kevin said urgently. “We got a foster kid today, okay? And I thought I would be a good dad but she’s weird as fuck and I need someone who speaks… teenager.”

“I speak English,” Harry told him slowly. “And half the time you lot pretend to not understand me.”

When they weren’t all teasing him about his accent, that was. Harry couldn’t quite get it through their heads that all of his new friends and neighbors were the ones who spoke with an accent.

Lip had once called Harry’s voice ‘chick bait’ though. Fiona said if Harry was older then his voice would be sexy… which was an odd compliment, but still sort of nice.

“English, Spanish, Bangladesh,” Kevin said quickly. “Just… please. Come on. This girl is weird as fuck and I don’t know what to do.”

Harry looked over his shoulder at Mandy and they shared a bemused look.

“Alright,” Harry agreed, rather curious about a foster girl that was ‘weird as fuck’. “Let me grab my stuff and walk Mandy home.”

Mandy could insist she could walk herself home as much as she wanted. Harry didn’t like it. Even if Mandy was tough as hell, Harry still cared about her and liked knowing she made it home safely.

Kevin seemed too grateful to Harry, which made Harry rather concerned about his new foster daughter. Mandy thought it was hysterical though and teased Harry about being Kevin’s favorite kid in between threatening him that he better not sleep with the girl while he was there.

“You’re absurd,” Harry told Mandy outside her house after she said it again. Harry pulled Mandy in toward him by the waist and kissed her slowly, softly.

“Don’t think you can be sweet and I won’t kill you if you cheat on me,” Mandy said after Harry kissed her. “As your no longer fake girlfriend, I will shoot your dick off.”

Harry grimaced and his hand switched toward his groin in phantom pain at Mandy’s crude threat.

“I swear,” Harry told her, meaning it. He tucked a stray lock of Mandy’s dark hair behind her ear and then kissed her once more, just because he could. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No more fatty foods!” Mandy yelled at Harry’s back as he began walking away.

Harry laughed and winked at her over his shoulder.

“No promises, love.”

Even thinking that Mandy didn’t eat dinner yet had Harry feeling terrible. And she never ate breakfast, not unless Harry brought it. Remus left Harry cash on the kitchen counter, Harry could always grab them breakfast in the morning since Kevin and Veronica didn’t cook.

Harry truly thought that Kevin was being dramatic all the way up until he made it back to their house and was introduced to their foster daughter.

“Hello.” She didn’t look like a teenager, she looked like a young girl… a young girl in a pilgrim dress. “I’m Ethel,” she said.

Ethel was… definitely weird, actually. It wasn’t even her dress or the single plait of blonde hair down her back that was weird, it was the very next thing she said after Harry introduced himself.

“Are you one of my husbands as well?” Ethel asked him.

“Hey, no,” Veronica said. She had been standing back in the kitchen with her arms crossed and an unhappy look on her face, but she jumped forward then.

“Kevin is not your husband, Harry is not your husband,” Veronica told Ethel firmly. “Kevin is just your foster dad for the week, until they find you a new place. Harry is the neighbor.”

“Oh.” Ethel blinked at Harry and then smiled sweetly. “Okay. It’s very nice to meet you, neighbor Harry.”

“I… you too,” Harry said. He tilted his head at Kevin in a silent question, feeling entirely confused by the whole situation and Kevin didn’t leave him to flounder.

“Hey, Harry! Look what I found!” Kevin snatched an American football off the mantle above the fireplace in his living room and tossed it from hand to hand. “What do you say we go out back and toss this baby around, huh?”

Harry only agreed because he was rather confident that he could catch the ball with his right hand and not have to agitate his left arm.

“What’s a foster kid mean?” Harry asked when they were outback, playing catch. Kevin was an excellent thrower and Harry never missed a catch, making for a decent game.

“It means someone’s parents sucked ass and the state took their kid from them,” Kevin explained. He pulled his arm back and arched the ball high enough that Harry backed up a step to catch it.

“Foster parents take care of the kids until they either turn eighteen, get adopted, or go back home,” Kevin said. He laughed when Harry’s throw hit the power line above his house. “Nice throw.”

“So Ethel’s parents were… abusive?” Harry guessed.

“Dunno.” Kevin threw the ball back. “The caseworker said she was in some weird fucking cult.”

“A cult?” Harry repeated as he easily caught the ball. “What?”

“I know,” Kevin said solemnly. “I guess she was married to some old dude named Clyde with like ten other wives.”

“She’s a kid!” Harry howled, forgetting for a moment to throw the ball back.

What was wrong with muggles?? First it was Ian and Kash, then Ethel and some bloke named Clyde.

“Yeah, she is,” Kevin agreed. He held his hands up, reminding Harry to toss the ball back. “I kind of wanted a boy, you know? Someone like you, to just teach cool shit to.”

Harry grinned and tried to throw the ball past Kevin to no avail.

“Maybe you can get another foster kid,” Harry said thoughtfully. Kevin was a nice person and Veronica was patient and kind to Harry. They would make good parents. And if the kids in ‘foster care’ were all like Ethel then Harry was all for Kevin filling his house with them.

“I want to, but V doesn’t,” Kevin said sadly. He threw the ball impressively so it spun the entire time it flew toward Harry. It was the first throw that Harry very nearly missed.

Nearly.

“I was a foster kid,” Kevin told Harry. “My parents were shit. Stan, the dude that owns the Alibi, he was like the only real father I ever had.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that so he settled for a quiet, “Oh.” Kevin just kept talking though as they tossed the ball back and forth.

“I always wanted my own family,” Kevin said. “Ever since I was a kid. I saw other kids with families and I was like ‘I want that’.”

Harry could picture that desire clearly. How many nights did he spend in a cupboard, imagining the family that he wanted? Harry always dreamt up a load of siblings, more than even Ron had.

“Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love V,” Kevin said quickly. “I’d rather have her than kids, she’s my soulmate, but…”

“But it would be nice to have both,” Harry said quietly as he tossed the ball.

Harry understood that perfectly.

Ian slept like shit on Friday night.

It felt like his skin was crawling and every thirty or forty minutes he’d shine a flashlight around to make sure they didn’t have bedbugs. By four thirty, Ian gave up on sleep and quietly got dressed to go for a run.

When all his thoughts were a mess and his skin didn’t fit him right, Ian ran. Usually after a few miles then he started to feel less… less… less batshit crazy.

Ian swiped Lip’s mp3 player and headphones and did a quick stretch in the front yard before leaving. He was doing jumping jacks while Three Days Grace blasted in his ears when he noticed that Harry’s porch light was on next door.

Ian pulled one of the headphones from his ear and looked over on the wooden porch swing. Harry was sitting there with his head tipped back and one leg tucked beneath him. Ian would have assumed he was asleep, except Harry was rocking the swing with his other bare foot on the porch floor.

“I thought you were staying with Kev?” Ian asked, scaring the hell out of Harry.

Harry jolted in the swing and whipped his head around until he noticed Ian. Then he just blinked real slowly and laid his head back.

Ian wasn’t a doctor, but he thought Harry looked like shit. And, since they were kind of friends at that point, Ian had told him that multiple times.

“I am,” Harry murmured in response. Ian had to shuffle closer to the fence dividing their yards and pause the music to hear him.

“Ethel gets up at four every morning to pray and do chores,” Harry explained with his eyes closed. “I… er… needed some air.”

Ian grinned knowingly and easily hopped the fence to get in Harry’s yard. He was showing off some, but Harry didn’t seem alert enough to notice.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to get away. That girl’s a freak,” Ian said. He met her the day before when Kevin tried to set her up on a play date with Debbie. Besides just the old ass looking dress she wore, she also spoke in the weirdest way.

Harry’s eyes opened quickly at Ian’s quip and he glared at him heatedly.

“Ethel is not a freak,” Harry snapped. “I’m not hiding from her, I’m just… I’m getting air.”

“Okay. My bad.” Ian held his hands up to show he didn’t mean anything by it.

It was one of the few things that Ian learned about his neighbor since they became friends. Someone could call Harry a sibling-hopping-faggot to his face and he wouldn’t so much as blink. But if anyone even curled their lip at Mandy, Harry was shooting his mouth off.

It was why Harry still wasn’t talking to Lip’s dumb ass after nearly a week. And it was the same reason Harry got in a fight yesterday morning that Ian had to jump in. Some dick winked at Mandy and asked how much for a ride and Harry literally tackled him.

Mandy wasn’t much of a damsel in distress in Ian’s opinion, but Harry seemed to take being her knight in shining armor as a personal challenge. It was kind of romantic, if Ian wanted to admit to something so girlie.

A hell of a lot more romantic than Ian’s personal life anyway.

“Ethel thinks she has to clean Kevin’s house and cook them breakfast before they wake up,” Harry told Ian after Ian made himself comfortable on the middle step for the porch. “It’s bloody sad.”

Ian tried to find the sarcasm in Harry’s voice, but only heard exhaustion to match the bags under his eyes.

“Why is that sad?” Ian asked carefully. It was weird, because Ethel was weird, but it wasn’t some tragic story.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes again. When he looked down at Ian, they didn’t look the same age anymore. Harry looked like he was years older than Ian and that Ian couldn’t possibly understand what he wanted to explain.

“Imagine that your family, the people meant to love you, treated you like a slave,” Harry said. “Imagine that you had to cook and clean by yourself because that was how you earned your place in your family. And- and just pretend that no matter how much you did, that you were always the weird freak who didn’t truly belong.”

Ian tried to imagine it, he really did. He just couldn’t though. Even if Frank and Monica were the most useless parents to exist, Fiona had never let any of them feel like they weren’t a part of their family. And she definitely never made them cook or clean for their place.

In fact, Ian felt a little guilty when he thought about how much Fiona cooked and cleaned.

“Yeah, that’s fucked,” Ian agreed. He waited until Harry looked at him again. “Sorry. For calling her a freak,” he explained.

Harry waved his hand at him in an easy forgiveness and then let out a hiss as he cradled his arm to his chest. Ian had seen him babying the arm for a week, but had no idea what was wrong with him.

“What’s up with your arm?” Ian asked curiously.

Harry kept the arm pressed to his chest and seemed to hesitate before answering.

“I think my tattoo is infected,” he said slowly.

Ian grinned. “Dude, you totally had someone do that shit in their kitchen, didn’t you?”

It was a nice tattoo, kind of fucking sick, really. But the only way Harry got a tattoo was without an ID, which meant his dumb ass let someone do it without a license. Lip did the same thing once and Fiona lost her shit on him.

“Why are you up so early?” Harry asked quickly, turning the tables on Ian.

“I always get up early to run,” Ian said.

“Not this early,” Harry argued swiftly. “We’ve been neighbors for months now. Usually you get up at five and don’t start running until half past.”

Ian was so surprised that Harry had noticed him enough to memorize his schedule that he answered without thinking.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ian blurted out. He waved his hand up by his head. “It’s like I’m just thinking of too much shit to stay in one place. Running helps, usually.”

Talking with Harry was helping too, actually. Ian’s skin didn’t feel so tight and his thoughts were slow enough that he could carry a cohesive conversation.

“That sounds awful,” Harry said emphatically. He held his left arm up for a moment before cradling it back against his chest. “I’d trade you. Your arm can be on fire and I’ll have your thoughts bother me.”

“Deal,” Ian said. He stretched across Harry’s porch and snagged a pack of cigarettes. When Harry made a grabby motion, Ian sat beside him on the swing and lit Harry a smoke before lighting himself one.

They were quiet for a minute, both of them just enjoying the nicotine in the cool and quiet morning air.

Then Harry chuckled quietly.

“My friends would lose their minds if they knew how much I smoke,” Harry said with a crooked grin. “Hermione, my friend, caught me with a joint once. I was outside with my- my ex-boyfriend,” Harry stumbled some on the term, “and she saw us smoking. I had to listen to her lecture me for a month.”

“Fuck that,” Ian laughed. “Kash doesn’t smoke either.”

“Doesn’t or didn’t?”

“What?”

Harry’s previously amused look was gone and he stared at Ian in an intense way.

“Kash doesn’t smoke or he didn’t?” Harry asked.

Ian didn’t even realize he used the present tense until Harry spelled it out for him. It felt like a fresh punch to the stomach to be reminded that Kash was gone. He left Ian just like everyone did.

“He didn’t,” Ian corrected himself. “He… fuck.” Ian huffed and looked up at the wooden beams of Harry’s porch. “Kash didn’t smoke, but he also said he loved me, so maybe he’s a secret chain smoker and a liar.”

Harry hummed and used his foot to slowly rock the bench they were on while Ian looked up at the ceiling and thought of Kash.

“I wasn’t in love with him, but he was my friend,” Ian said, just thinking aloud. “Kash knew all the shitty things, you know? He let me talk about my mom and Frank. And- and he said he’d stick around.”

Ian swallowed hard and then focused on his cigarette to keep from crying like a little bitch.

“Sorry,” Ian said when he finished his cigarette and Harry still hadn’t said anything. “I know you hate him.”

“I don’t particularly like him, no,” Harry agreed evenly. “I’m sorry that you’re sad though.”

Ian snorted and tried to breeze past the moment of unwanted sympathy.

“It’s hard to dislike someone you didn’t know,” Ian said with a little bit of an unfair bite to his tone. It wasn’t Harry’s fault that Kash left… not really.

“I don’t tend to like anyone who hurts kids,” Harry said coolly. He stubbed his own cigarette out and flicked the butt in the yard.

“And yet you act like your uncle is some saint,” Ian pointed out. He didn’t want to rehash an old argument, but Harry didn’t get to be a hypocrite either.

Harry didn’t argue back then. He just stopped rocking the swing and stared across the yard as if his mind was a million miles away.

“It’s different,” Harry eventually said. “Sirius is- he’s sick. He loves me.”

Ian didn’t have the heart to point it out to Harry, not when their friendship was so new (and Ian didn’t want to lose his only gay friend - since Mickey was clearly only a casual fuck), and not when Harry looked so tired and miserable, but… but Harry sounded as desperate as Ian when he said that same thing.

And clearly Kash didn’t love Ian at all.