Poor Tom
“Repeat after me… I will not cut off my arm.”
“I will not cut off my arm.”
“I will not have anyone else cut off my arm.”
“I will not have anyone else cut off my arm.”
“I will refrain from doing anything stupid for the next twelve hours.”
“I…” Harry hesitated. “Remus, you know I can’t really promise that.”
Remus stared him down firmly, unwilling to cave on it.
“Harry, it is twelve hours,” Remus stressed. “I am begging you, do not do anything stupid, reckless— you know what? Before you do something, ask Lip and Mandy both — no…” Remus shook his head, they were both too infatuated with Harry to truly divert him from any ridiculous plans.
“Before you make any decisions, ask Fiona if it is a reasonable decision,” Remus said.
Harry stared at Remus deadpan and Remus waited. Remus could wait out Harry, he was certain of it.
Remus had dealt with Lily’s stubbornness for years.
“Fine,” Harry huffed. He checked his phone screen and then narrowed his eyes at Remus. “Twelve hours?”
“That’s all I need,” Remus assured him. Remus had a portkey, a plan, and thought he might even finish it in eight hours.
The extra four were for Nymphadora.
“Then I’ll just… go see Mandy,” Harry said with a suddenly bright smile. “I’ll be back in twelve hours.”
Remus sighed and yelled at Harry’s back as he walked out the front door.
“Condoms, Harry!” he yelled. The last thing he needed was Harry making Remus’ own mistakes.
With Harry out of the house for the next twelve hours, Remus felt mildly better about leaving once again. It was unfortunate timing, but Remus could hardly risk Harry trying to chop his own arm off again.
Albus had no answers, Severus had no answers. Remus spent two days scouring his books to no avail. When Friday night rolled around and Harry was once again miserable, Remus decided to jump directly to plan z.
Which, unfortunately, meant that Remus needed Nymphadora’s assistance.
Remus knocked on Nymphadora’s door rather than apparating directly in her flat. He wasn’t as certain of their friendship anymore and didn’t want to risk being cursed on sight.
An abortion between friends tended to make things… uncomfortable.
Nymphadora answered after only a few seconds though and Remus smiled to see that her hair was once again pink and spiked.
“It’s not recommended to have sex for a week after an abortion,” Nymphadora said cheerfully. “Sorry.”
“Ah, I suppose I’ll look elsewhere then…” Remus said teasingly. He opened his arms some and was relieved when Nymphadora stepped out to give him a hug.
“How are you?” Remus asked seriously.
“I’m good,” Nymphadora said. “Mum scolded me, coddled me, and filled my freezer with soups.”
“Good.” Remus was genuinely relieved to know that Nymphadora seemed no worse for the experience. It had been weighing heavily on his conscious that his dislike of condoms had led to her unhappiness.
“In that case,” Remus smiled charmingly at Nymphadora in a way that used to work quite well for him, “how would you like to go break several laws with me?”
Nymphadora didn’t even hesitate. For an auror, she was rather fond of breaking the law.
“I’d love to.” Nymphadora snagged a coat from just inside the door and Remus knew that her wand must be in her arm holster. As soon as she closed the door to the flat, she grinned at him. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re breaking into Nurmengard, darling.”
Because Remus would much rather cut off Voldemort’s arm than Harry’s.
Remus filled Nymphadora in on what he considered to be a flawless plan. They sneak on the property with Remus beneath Harry’s cloak, Nymphadora disguised as Minister Fudge.
Once they gained access to the dungeon where Voldemort was kept, Nymphadora could distract the guards in some way and Remus could cut the bastard’s arm off.
“It’s perfect,” Remus assured her. He only had twenty minutes until his portkey to a lodge in the Austrian Alps, under Sirius’ name, was activated. He explained the plan to Nymphadora while they walked to a bakery down the road from her flat and Remus bought them both a tea and pastry.
“So… first date was the abortion clinic, second is Azkaban?” Nymphadora asked him seriously. She was sitting on a rubbish bin in the alley behind the bakery and had been quiet up until then.
“We would only be arrested if we were caught, and we would only be caught if we make a mistake,” Remus explained. “So, as you can see, we simply don’t make any mistakes, love.”
“Oh, I wasn’t complaining.” Nymphadora hopped up when the coin around Remus’ neck began to glow in warning.
“You know how to treat a girl,” Nymphadora said coyly. She put one hand on Remus’ chest, just beneath the coin, and the other on his hip while she looked up at him. “You should come back in a few days…”
Remus took the moment to kiss her slowly, deeply. Nymphadora was, as she was at most things, a truly excellent kisser.
“We’ll see,” Remus said. “Perhaps if we don’t make any mistakes and Harry and Sirius haven’t imploded without me…”
Nymphadora was an excellent shag in addition to being a friend well-suited to join Remus on his less legal adventures.
“No mistakes and I’ll see if Fleur will join us,” Nymphadora said. “You’ve met Bill, right? I think I could get them both to come over…”
Remus desperately hoped that Harry and Sirius were able to abstain from idiocy for twelve hours. A night with Nymphadora, Fleur Delacour, and the oldest Weasley boy sounded like an excellent way to pass the time.
Luck was not on their side though as so many mistakes and miscalculations happened that Remus was shocked they were able to evade capture and arrest.
“YOU DIDN’T HAVE A BACKUP PLAN?!” Nymphadora screamed at Remus as they ran from the prison three hours later.
Remus had Voldemort’s arm in his hand, leaving behind a trail of blood, and shook his head.
“YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW YOUR PRESIDENTS!” Remus yelled back.
Everything would have been fine. Sure, it was inconvenient when Nymphadora arrived disguised as Minister Fudge only to discover he was already there. But when Remus quickly suggested she hide herself and change to the President, he didn’t expect her to emerge as the Queen of England.
“Sooo sorry that I don’t know the President of Switzerland!” Nymphadora snarled. She held her hand out as they approached the edge of the wards and Remus scowled before accepting the Queen’s royal hand.
“And you chose the bloody Queen,” Remus scoffed. Remus was still able to slip through the dungeons during the commotion, but he had to duel his way through the guards to get to Voldemort’s cell.
They had thought Remus was there to free him when all Remus wanted was his arm.
And, because Remus couldn’t resist, to return a small measure of the torture he inflicted on Harry.
Two crucios and a severing hex was hardly the worst of Remus’ crimes.
As soon as the portkey returned them to London, Remus kissed Nymphadora and then made his way downtown to find Mac.
It was an unspoken agreement within the gang- if a member asked for an alibi, it was given to them without question or hesitation. Refusing to do so was the worst kind of betrayal. Not that any of them ever had, in the many times Remus needed one, but it was still an unwritten code of the gang.
So when Albus caught up with Remus, as Remus knew he would, Remus was lounging just outside the Headquarters of the Sabini Gang and had three members swear that he had been there the entire time. Remus had Voldemort’s arm in his bag, a joint in his hand, and a bland smile and denial when Albus asked him if he had been to Nurmengard recently.
Albus was dressed in what he probably thought was his muggle best and the younger two members that Remus had just met were snickering away over their brews at the gaudy sky-blue suit.
“Remus… may we speak in private?” Albus asked him with his trademark ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ look.
“Afraid not,” Mac quipped beside Remus with his own thick joint in hand. “Sca’ has legal rights, don’t ‘e? Ya come back with a Royal Warrant or don’t come back at all, we ain’t the friendliest blokes on the block.”
Remus maintained a bland smile as he listened to Mac tell Albus off. It wasn’t that Remus was ungrateful for the opportunities that Albus once gave him, it was that Remus simply had no further use for Albus.
Voldemort was trapped. Harry was safe. Sirius was free.
Remus no longer needed Albus’ protection for any of the people he loved.
The Wizengamot was still a lingering concern in Remus’ mind, but between Nymphadora and Andromeda Tonks, the wealth within Sirius’ vaults that Remus would steal if needed, and Remus’ own knowledge of the laws, Remus was unconcerned.
“This is it then, Remus?” Albus asked him sadly.
Remus had no real need to be so blatantly disrespectful, but he had no need to be respectful either. Albus was kind once and, like all leaders of a gang, he cashed in on that kindness when he needed it. Remus repaid his educational debt to Albus when he entered the wolves den and collected information for the Order.
Remus’ debt was paid.
And so Remus blew the sweet scented weed smoke at Albus’ face and lifted a careless shoulder.
“Seems like it,” Remus drawled. “Oi, do me a favor though? Tell Severus that if he meddles around with the medicines he supplies again that I’ll make his last leader look like a little fairy.”
Albus made no expression to signify he understood the message, but Remus was certain he would.
“Wanna explain wha’ that was?” Mac asked after Albus walked off and a distant crack told Remus that he left.
Remus grinned at his old friend and held his joint between his teeth as he pulled the bloody and jaggedly cut arm of Lord Voldemort from his bag.
“Mighta stole somethin’,” Remus said as he waved the arm at Mac.
Mac stared at the arm for a moment before he burst out in laughter that was so genuine Remus could see the silver teeth he had in the back of his mouth.
“YA STOLE A SODDIN’ ARM!” Mac howled. The other two seemed more nervous about the arm, but they were new. They weren’t around back in the true glory days of the gang when wars were fought with knives and guns and proof of victory were given with fingers, toes, or ears.
“Oh, Sca’…” Mac swiped at his face and his smile was the same as it had been when they were just kids talking about taking over the world from their orphanage. “Ya didn’t change a bit, didja?”
“I hope not,” Remus said fervently. He checked the time and was delighted to see that he still had three hours left before he had to return home. Remus stuffed the arm back in his bag and tipped an invisible hat toward the others. “If you blokes will excuse me, I’ve got a sweet gal that could use my lovely company.”
Because even if Remus couldn’t shag Nymphadora, he was still eager to rehash their successful mission together.
By the time Remus needed to return to the States, he and Nymphadora had decided that breaking in the prison was a much better date to one day relive than the clinic had been.
In fact, Remus was feeling rather smug about the entire trip.
James would be in stitches over it if he was there. Sirius would as well, if he were mentally in a place where Remus could brag to him.
Actually… with Sirius the way he was, James dead, and Peter in prison… perhaps Remus should give Nymphadora and Harry nicknames and make a new gang. The Order was over, the Sabini’s were in London, the Marauders were dead…
And Remus had always done his best work in a gang.
Remus was whistling between his teeth while he walked through the neighborhood in Chicago to get home. It was only ten, perhaps the lovely neighbor would be interested in smoking together? She had been eager last time they were alone, though she did seem to avoid him after that…
It was probably the boyfriend.
Remus should do something about that little speed-bump eventually. Fiona Gallagher seemed like a wild ride, one that Remus was terribly interested in experiencing.
All of Remus’ thoughts of trying to scare away Fiona’s boyfriend fled from his mind when he stepped up to the house and saw Harry sitting on the porch swing. Harry had a cigarette in his hand that was burning itself down, an empty look in his eyes, and bruises blossoming on his face.
“Harry?” Remus jumped over the fence to save himself two seconds. Had Remus injured Harry when he removed Voldemort’s arm? Or…
“I’ll kill him,” Remus swore when he got to the porch and was able to grasp Harry’s chin. Harry blinked at him and Remus was further startled to see there were tears in his eyes and the rims were red.
“Be hard to do,” Harry said in a hoarse voice. “He’s gone, Remus. Sirius- Sirius left me.”
Clearly Remus was going to have to cancel his plans with Nymphadora, Fleur, and Bill. Every time he left the country, something dramatic happened.
*****
Twelve Hours Earlier…
It was absurd to be setting an alarm for when Remus would return, but Harry knew that he would take a chainsaw to his arm if he didn’t have something to count down to.
Remus swore that at the end of twelve hours if he didn’t solve Harry’s pain that he’d help Harry remove the arm. That was the only promise that was getting Harry through the day.
That and the idea that maybe Mandy might want to fool around.
Harry had been at the Milkovich house so often that he sort of got used to just letting himself in. It wasn’t even noon yet, plus it was a Saturday, so Harry assumed that everyone would still be asleep and he could go crawl in Mandy’s bed.
Except Harry opened the door and walked directly in a room filled with Mickey, Mandy’s cousins, and Mandy’s dad.
Harry had been introduced to Terry Milkovich before and he got the feeling that the dislike Harry felt toward him was mutual. Terry actually curled a lip at Harry then even while Jamie was greeting Harry cheerfully.
“Ay, Black!” Jamie was loading bullets into what Harry learned was called a clip and he paused long enough to grin at Harry. “You’re just in time.”
“In time for what?” Harry asked, trying to hide his nervousness. All the Milkovich men had guns in their hands and even if Harry didn’t think Mickey would shoot him, Harry wasn’t as confident about his dad.
“We got a job,” Iggie said after he slapped his clip in his gun. He smirked at Harry in a challenging way that had Harry on the defensive. “You wanna be a part of the family? Time to learn.”
Harry glanced at Mickey, who he trusted just enough to not let him get killed, and Mickey subtly nodded behind his dad’s back.
“Alright then,” Harry shrugged. He held up his useless left arm that was still in the hard white cast. “I’ve only got one hand though.”
“You only need one hand.” Terry grabbed a small black gun off the table and tossed it to Harry who just barely caught it.
Harry felt the unfamiliar weight in his hand and felt awkward with it. It was a weapon, just like his wand had once been, but Harry was also a little worried about accidentally shooting himself too.
That happened in a movie Harry and Dudley watched once. Dudley thought it was hysterical, Harry had never truly wondered if muggle-madness was real until then.
But the Milkovich men were all watching Harry and it felt like a test of some sort. So Harry tucked the gun in his waistband like how Mickey carried his and tried to look as casual as they were.
“Cool,” Harry said, mimicking the easy word that everyone around him used so often. “What’s the job?”
“Technically,” Mickey drew the word out, “it’s a robbery.”
Oh.
Cool.
Harry rode in the back of a truck with Mickey, Tommy, and Iggie. Terry drove them and had Jamie up front with him. It was freezing out, Harry’s face felt frozen, but the others weren’t complaining so Harry kept his mouth shut.
Mandy said Harry was a moron when he woke her up to tell her he was leaving. But she also said if he went to jail that it would be a pain in the ass to break him out, so Harry assumed she wasn’t actually upset with him.
Mickey had pulled Harry to the side just before they climbed in the truck and quickly taught him how to use a gun.
“Stay close to me, alright?” Mickey murmured before they climbed in the bed of the truck. “I don’t wanna listen to Mandy bitch if you get fuckin’ hurt.”
Harry was worried that he’d get shot, he couldn’t imagine that it felt very good. But he also couldn’t imagine that it hurt more than trying to cut off his arm or the mark did when Voldemort decided to torture him through it.
So getting shot wasn’t high on Harry’s list of concerns.
Which, in hindsight, was probably why Harry wound up with a bullet in his hip by the end of the day.
Harry probably should have checked with Fiona if going on a robbery with the Milkovich men was a good idea or not, but he knew it wasn’t.
It was just something to do while Harry waited for Remus to return.
Harry didn’t ask any questions about the robbery and so he was caught by surprise when the truck pulled up to a perfectly normal looking house in the nice part of the city. The two story brick house had a perfectly manicured lawn and Harry desperately hoped that they were just picking someone else up.
Then everyone except for Jamie climbed out of the truck and Harry hastily followed them.
“This prick owed me before I went to the fuckin’ big house,” Terry muttered darkly as they crossed the lawn together. “Bet he’ll be fuckin’ surprised to see me.”
Mickey pulled his gun from his waistband and held it loosely at his side.
“Surprise, early parole, mother fucker,” Mickey grinned.
Harry was probably going to throw up. It was much different than robbing a closed pawn shop or stealing wiring from a supposedly empty house. There was a car in the driveway, a dog barking in the backyard, and they all had guns.
Remus was going to be pissed, Harry was certain of it.
Terry pounded on the front door with a heavy fist.
“Hey, fuck faaaace!” he yelled. “Time to pay up!”
Harry stayed beside Mickey when Terry shook his head and gestured for Tommy to open the door. Tommy took a step backward and then kicked out at the door hard enough to kick it open.
“If it looks expensive, grab it,” Mickey told Harry as they all went inside. “And stay the fuck by me.”
Harry only nodded. Mickey went straight through a sparkling foyer to a library with Iggie while Tommy and Terry took off up the staircase to the second floor.
“Shiiiiit,” Iggie whistled when they saw the library filled with books and expensive looking various instruments. “How much did he owe Terry?”
“Ten grand,” Mickey said. “C’mon, these books ain’t worth shit.”
Even while Harry was swept up in a terrifying sort of crime, he still nearly grinned when he imagined Hermione’s reaction to that comment. Mickey and Iggie went on to the next room but Harry stalled and looked at the bookcases for just a moment.
The shelves were all cleaned off, not a speck of dust on them, and had some photographs on them. Harry paused and looked at a family photo on one shelf.
There was a man and woman smiling in crisp clothes on a bench. Situated at their feet were two kids that resembled their parents. All four of them were smiling so happily that it made Harry’s heart clench for a moment. They were just… they all looked so happy, just like a family was meant to look.
Later, when Mickey asked, Harry couldn’t explain why he took the picture from the frame and pocketed it.
Harry didn’t even get a chance to replace the frame on the shelf before he heard a scream up the stairs and then the echoing bang of a gun. Harry dropped the frame, causing it to shatter on the hardwood floor, and took off for the stairs.
There were kids in the house… kids who needed their parents.
Another gunshot and Harry was desperate.
Harry ran down the upstairs hallway and paused just outside a door that was decorated for a child. Harry poked his head in and saw two terrified looking kids under a blanket.
“Stay here,” Harry whispered to them. “It’s okay.”
Then Harry did something that he knew Remus would have considered ‘very stupid’. Harry pulled the gun from his waistband and made sure it was loaded before he ran in the other bedroom where the shots and shouts were coming from.
The bloke in the bedroom, the one that lived in the house, stood at the foot of his bed with a long brown gun held in his arms. The woman was screaming her head off behind him while Terry yelled at the man with his gun raised. Tommy must have been in a different room, which was good because Harry didn’t fancy shooting him.
“Oi!” Harry had his gun out and only just stepped in the room. Harry planned to threaten Terry into leaving, leave that family alone, but he didn’t actually get a chance.
Because the bloke with the gun took one look at Harry and his gun and then shot him.
Idly, as he was thinking about how much it hurt to be shot, Harry also realized that the wall behind Terry had two holes in it.
Harry went to defend the man who was the only one to fire a single bullet.
Terry was right, that bloke was a prick.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Mickey had Harry laying in the bed of the truck and was alternating between pressing his hands down on Harry’s hip and pounding on the window that divided them from Jamie and Tommy. “DRIVE FASTER, YOU STUPID FUCK!” Mickey screamed at Jamie, who was apparently their getaway driver.
Everything had happened very quickly after Harry got shot.
Mickey burst in the room and took one look at Harry’s white face and the blood that was spilling from his hip before throwing him over his shoulder and running down the stairs. There were paintings, gleaming guns, and jewelry already in the need of the truck that Mickey shoved to the side to lay Harry down. Iggie ran out after they did with more stuff in his arms. Iggie took Harry’s gun from him and put it up front before offering to light Harry a cigarette.
Harry almost cursed at him, then he reconsidered and figured that if he was dying then one last cigarette would be nice.
Terry and Tommy were the last ones out and Terry screamed something about being a felon before tossing his gun to Jamie in the drivers seat and taking off in the opposite direction on foot.
Harry didn’t understand why Terry took off until Mickey yelled that they needed to get to the hospital.
Then Harry heard the police sirens and groaned.
Remus was going to be so mad.
“Hey, stay awake.” Mickey slapped Harry and startled him into opening his eyes. Mickey had a wide-eyed look that made Harry wonder exactly how bad he looked.
“We’re going to the fuckin’ hospital, okay?” Mickey told him quickly, having to shout over the police sirens that sounded like they were getting closer. “When we get there, you and I are running inside and you’re keeping your fuckin’ mouth shut.”
Harry tried to nod but he could only groan out a sound of understanding.
“Mickey…” Harry reached up and grabbed Mickey’s shirt to pull him closer since Harry couldn’t find the energy to scream. “Not U of C,” Harry told him.
Mickey huffed out a huge breath of air.
“How the fuck did I forget that you were in the loony bin?” Mickey muttered. He took his hand off Harry’s hip and pounded on the glass again. “NOT U OF C!”
Harry didn’t want to end up right back in a psych ward.
When the truck pulled up to a hospital, Mickey just lifted Harry up and carried him from the truck through the doors.
“Hey! My brother is fuckin’ dying!” Mickey screamed while Harry moaned from being jolted around.
Someone ran up to them and Harry was dropped from Mickey’s arms to a wheelchair.
Which bloody hurt.
Harry truly thought he was dying, he couldn’t imagine that the white hot pain in his hip promised a very long life. The staff at the hospital seemed calm though, nobody was panicking except for Mickey.
They moved Harry to a room and put him on a bed. Someone stuck a needle in Harry’s arm while someone else started cutting Harry’s clothes off him.
Those were Harry’s favorite jeans too. Ian said they made Harry’s arse look good.
“What happened?” a doctor asked once Harry was exposed with a tube in his right arm and a blanket covering his groin.
Harry lifted his head to find Mickey and didn’t see him in the room anywhere.
“No English,” Harry muttered. A familiar warmth was making its way through Harry’s veins and taking away some of the pain radiating from his hip.
“No English, huh?” A nurse snorted at Harry and shook her head. “It looks like a bullet wound, yes or no?”
Harry knew only one actual word of any language outside of English, Parsletongue, a few curse words in French, or the screeching sound of Mermish. Thankfully, it was the answer he wanted to give anyway.
“Si.”
Thank God that George once tested out a prank item on Harry that left him unable to speak in anything except Spanish. Harry had spent the day only saying yes or no to all questions.
“Can I kiss you?” Fred asked teasingly.
“Si,” Harry nodded eagerly.
It didn’t actually take long to fix Harry’s hip. It wasn’t fatal at all, apparently. Harry stayed awake through the entire thing and ignored all questions while the bullet was removed and he was stitched together.
Harry was just thinking that maybe Remus didn’t need to know about Harry’s day at ask when the nurse was unhooking Harry’s IV and two uniformed officers stepped in the room.
“That looks painful,” the woman cop said as she looked at Harry’s hip. “You mind telling us how it happened?”
Harry looked her dead in the eyes.
“No English.”
The man pulled a pair of silver handcuffs from his belt and held them up.
“You know any English now?” he asked.
“Yeah, a bit,” Harry sighed. “So here’s what happened… I shot myself on accident.”
“Really?” The woman crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him. “Because the nurse swears that your brother brought you here screaming someone shot you and we have a Matthew Pillcock that said he shot a home intruder that fits your description.”
“Yeah?” Harry sat up and winced when it sent a jolt of pain down his leg. He knew it wasn’t the time to get smart, but Harry didn’t like being intimidated.
He didn’t kiss Voldemort’s robes and he wouldn’t kiss their arses.
Plus, Harry was kind of touched in an odd way that Mickey called him his brother. It was odd because they used to shag, but it was still the most that anyone had claimed Harry as family in a while.
“And I bet I’m the only bloke with black hair in this entire state,” Harry said with an innocent look. “Oh, wait, no… your partner has black hair. Maybe he broke into Mister Pillcock’s house.”
Harry thought they were probably playing good cop and bad cop when the woman huffed and the man softened his voice.
“Look, kid, maybe you got caught up in something, huh?” the man suggested kindly. “You don’t want to go to jail for something you didn’t want to do, do you?”
No, Harry really didn’t.
“You’re going to arrest me for shooting myself on accident?” Harry asked with his brows raised. “The States really are mental, aren’t they?”
“Quit jerking us around!” the woman snapped. “We know you were in that house with your little gang to rob that family!”
Harry smiled at her and used his favorite phrase he perfected against years of constant accusations from Snape.
“Prove it.”
They couldn’t, not when the bloke who shot Harry was unwilling to go to the hospital to identify him. They could demand that Harry stayed until he gave them a real name and they contacted a guardian, but as Harry wasn’t tied to a bed that time, he just waited for the officers to be distracted talking to the nurses at the desk and he left.
Harry only had his bloodied pants on, but he took a blanket and walked right out the emergency room doors.
“Jesus Christ!” Mickey ran right up to Harry from where it looked like he’d been hiding between two cars in the parking lot.
“What’d you tell them?” Mickey asked as he shed his jean jacket for Harry to use.
“Nothing,” Harry said honestly. “Where the hell did you go?”
“They kicked me out of the room and then I saw the fuckin’ pigs show up so I dipped,” Mickey said casually. “I’ve got a record, you don’t.”
Not in the muggle world, no. But at the rate Harry’s life was going, he imagined that wasn’t going to last long.
Mandy was pacing the front yard when Harry and Mickey made it back to her house. She started to throw herself at Harry and only stopped when Mickey reminded her that Harry had been shot in the hip.
“You idiot!” Mandy yelled at Harry. She smacked him upside the head and Harry only laughed.
It seemed like an excellent adventure once Harry got the bullet removed, didn’t go to jail, and decided that the home owner was a prick.
“Why would you go racing in a gunfight to defend Terry?!” Mandy demanded.
Harry actually had went in there originally with plans to shoot Terry, but that sounded much better.
“I was trying to help,” Harry grinned. Mandy grabbed his hand and began leading him in the house, past where Mickey was lighting up on the porch.
“You made it!” Tommy jumped to his feet when Harry got in the house and pounded him on the back. “We thought you were headed straight for the fucking juvie!”
“Ya did good, boy,” Terry said. He was sitting at the table, sorting through the jewelry they stole. He paused to give Harry a crooked grin. “We’ll make a Milkovich of you yet.”
Harry had absolutely no plans on ever going on another ‘job’ with Mandy’s family again, but apparently he earned Terry’s approval because he told Mandy to take Harry to find some jeans.
And when Mandy closed her bedroom door behind them, nobody yelled at either of them.
Harry was feeling cocky when he made it home later. Sure, his hip and leg felt miserable, but Mandy had done her best to distract Harry from the pain. And Harry’s left arm wasn’t hurting at all so he had to assume that whatever Remus left to do has worked.
There were still two hours left until Remus was supposed to return and Harry planned on just getting dinner and maybe working on his homework. Ian wasn’t going to let Harry keep copying him if Harry didn’t have anything to contribute.
It could have been a peaceful end to an insane day, except Sirius was home.
Harry didn’t think he’d be able to speak to Sirius without losing his temper and so Harry chose to ignore him. His backpack was hanging up in the kitchen, the same place the food was, though and Sirius was blocking Harry’s path.
“Excuse me,” Harry said as politely as he could while he tried to squeeze past Sirius without touching him.
It hurt like a bruise on his chest to be so wary around Sirius. Harry couldn’t handle the ups and downs though… Sirius was friendly enough when sober, mean as hell when drunk. Sirius wanted to take Harry’s attention when Remus was around, Sirius wanted to fight when he wasn’t.
It was worse than the Dursleys in a way. At least Harry had never been under any false pretense with his aunt and uncle.
Sirius moved, but he also followed Harry in the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with your leg?” he asked, slurring his words once he noticed Harry’s limp.
“I fell,” Harry lied. He had his back to Sirius and checked in the fridge for food. It made Harry smile to see a plastic dish with ‘HARRY’ written in marker on the top.
Remus was a good person, Harry was lucky he was willing to stick around.
Harry wanted to just take the food to his room, but it was cold and cold pasta was disgusting. Sirius was leaning against the table, watching Harry with narrowed eyes, and Harry tried to ignore him while he put the dish in the microwave.
“You fell and broke your arm and hurt your leg?” Sirius asked after Harry set the microwave.
Sirius’ selective memory was one of the most irritating things about him.
“My arm is in a cast because you had me admitted to a hospital instead of just healing me,” Harry said coolly. Harry still had his back to Sirius and the weight of his eyes on Harry’s back had Harry tapping his nails on the counter anxiously.
“What are you on about?” Sirius asked. “I never took you to a hospital?”
Harry opened his mouth to argue and then shook his head instead. It did no good to argue with Sirius when he was drunk. Who knew if Sirius even recognized him?
“Forget it,” Harry muttered. He was about to take his food from the microwave and just eat it lukewarm, then Sirius had to keep running his mouth.
“What’s your problem?” Sirius demanded. “Every time I try and talk to you, you’re a git.”
“Me?” Harry spun around and glared at Sirius. “That’s rich, coming from you! You don’t even know who I am half the bloody time!”
“Of course I do,” Sirius scoffed. “I’m not the mental one here.”
“Yeah? You’re doing a damn good job at pretending then!”
“I don’t have to listen to this crap, Reg! I can leave!”
Harry’s heart sank and he stared at Sirius in absolute defeat, too hurt to even argue. Sirius was so sick, it was sad.
“Whatever.” Harry turned back to grab his food and when he turned too quickly, Sirius swung at him. Harry wanted to think that Sirius thought Harry was going to curse him - maybe Sirius was afraid of his brother, Sirius would never hit Harry - but it was still Harry’s face that was struck and his food that fell to the floor.
“Fuck you!” Harry howled. “Get the fuck out, Sirius! You’re drunk!”
“I will leave!” Sirius yelled, his face all twisted up with anger. “James said I could stay there! He’d never pull this shit!”
“JAMES IS DEAD!” Harry screamed. It was sickening, listening to Sirius talk about Harry’s father - screaming about him while fighting with Harry.
It also caused Sirius to completely lose his mind.
Sirius pulled his hand back and slapped Harry hard enough to cause Harry’s ears to ring and his eyes to roll back. It just wasn’t hard enough to keep Harry from yelling every vile thought he’d kept locked inside until then.
“James would hate you!” Harry yelled at Sirius. Sirius tried to grab Harry by the front of Mickey’s shirt he wore and Harry hit his hand away with the cast on his arm.
“JAMES IS THE ONLY BROTHER I HAVE!” Sirius shouted. “YOU’RE JEALOUS, REG! BECAUSE NOBODY CARES THAT MUCH ABOUT YOU!”
Harry wasn’t one for pity parties, but damn if he didn’t feel sorry for Sirius’ brother. If that was how Sirius treated him, it wasn’t any wonder that he joined the death eaters.
“JAMES IS DEAD!” Harry yelled. He yelled it again when Sirius landed a fist to the side of his head. “HE IS DEAD AND IT IS YOUR FAULT!”
Harry didn’t mean that.
As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry wanted to take them back.
James and Sirius both trusted the wrong friend, that wasn’t on Sirius.
But Sirius was pissed as hell by it.
Sirius grabbed Harry by the shirt, catching him by surprise when Harry was regretting the words he just said, and slammed him against the counter, banging Harry’s recently stitched hip as he did.
“James would hate you,” Sirius snarled in Harry’s face, his eyes clouded with grief and madness so much that Harry couldn’t bear to look at him.
Harry didn’t know if Sirius meant James would hate Regulus or Harry, but it didn’t matter.
Sirius landed a few blows, Harry got a well-aimed kick in. When Sirius dropped Harry and Harry landed on his hip, they just stared at each hatefully with their chests heaving and their faces flushed.
“I don’t have to stay here,” Sirius told him. “I don’t.”
Harry spat on the floor beside where he laid and wasn’t sure if his saliva had blood in it or if his hip had bled through his borrowed jeans.
“Just fucking go,” Harry said. He looked up at the godfather he wanted to love him so desperately and knew that Sirius was never going to be the person - the father - that Harry once hoped he’d be.
Sirius pulled his wand from the inside of his leather jacket and Harry raised his casted arm to cover his face and shut his eyes.
Harry could take a few hits, Harry just wasn’t sure what spells Sirius would use while he was having an episode.
“Accio.”
Harry slowly lowered his hand and watched as a bag flew down the back stairs and Sirius caught it without ever looking away from him.
“You’ve got no one now,” Sirius said flatly. “If I walk out that door, you’ll have no one.”
Harry swallowed and then pointed to the back door.
“There’s the door.”
And Sirius left.
The very last member of Harry’s family, Harry’s godfather, James’ ‘might as well be his brother’ best friend, left.
And it was Harry’s fault.