Snitches get Stitches

Remus tried to be kind…

“Harry, I’ve got food downstairs. Why don’t you come eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Remus had been stern…

“Harry, what sort of example are you setting for your child? You cannot avoid your responsibilities like this.”

“You’re right, I’d be a shit dad.”

And Remus had attempted outright bribery…

“Why don’t you go fly? You can wear your cloak and see the city from the sky.”

“Because I’ll jump from my broom.”

It had been a joke to think that Remus would be a competent guardian to a teenager. In the few short months Remus had been in Chicago, Harry had attempted to cut his arm off, been hospitalized for insanity, been shot during a robbery, been arrested for Remus’ crime, knocked up his girlfriend, and spent nearly a week straight in his bed.

Remus, for the first time, wished that Sirius were still there. Remus sat outside by himself for a long time, smoking, drinking, and wishing that Sirius would stroll down the sidewalk with apologies pouring from his mouth and pleas to prove himself in some capacity.

It wasn’t that Remus was under any false belief that Sirius would be a better guardian, it was just that insanity was genetic and Sirius had always been the one to handle James.

There had been times in the Gryffindor dorm where James simply refused to leave his bed. No threats from McGonagall or detentions for skipped classes could persuade him. Sirius though… Sirius could.

“Hey, Prongs…” Sirius would climb in James’ bed and snuggle around until he was face to face with James. “Is it a bad day?” he would whisper.

James would sniffle and it would break Remus’ heart even during the times when they were barely on speaking terms.

“I can’t do it anymore,” James once told Sirius while fifteen year old Remus unintentionally eavesdropped from his own bed. “Everything is just rubbish, Pads.”

“You know what isn’t rubbish?”

Remus watched with curiosity when Sirius rubbed his nose on James’ until James huffed and pushed him with something that was nearly a smile.

“You,” Sirius answered his own question. “Come on, if we’re skipping classes then let’s at least go bother Snivellus.”

Remus doubted if he could climb in Harry’s bed and rub their noses together to get Harry moving. Harry might move, but it would likely be in horror that a thirty-five year old man was in his bed.

Offering to bother Severus carried some merit though, Remus would think that over. In his opinion, there were never enough opportunities to make Severus miserable.

Remus had been so caught up in his own vortex of self-castigation that he did not even recognize Fiona’s presence until she sat down just beside him on the porch swing.

“Our kids are fighting and suddenly you don’t have time to hit on me anymore?” Fiona asked as she stole the bottle Remus had been drinking from for herself.

Remus curled his lip in annoyance as he recalled that it had been Fiona’s younger brother that pushed - or punched, to be more accurate - Harry down the hill of depression. According to what Harry told Hermione and was repeated to Mandy while Remus overheard, Harry and Lip had some sort of fight.

Remus would wager that it had been something more than just a fight when Ian Gallagher and Mandy’s brother appeared a few nights ago to check on Harry.

It wasn’t a criticism of Harry, but they lived in a rather rough neighborhood. Remus was long since used to settling disputes of any kind with his fists, Harry was too sensitive to seamlessly fit in.

He also inherited that sensitivity from James, Remus knew for a fact.

“I’ve got no idea what I’m doing,” Remus admitted. He dropped his head to his hands and despised himself for the truth of it. “I’m a terrible guardian.”

“Hey, come on now.” Fiona placed the bottle on the porch and grabbed Remus’ arm while she rubbed his back with her other hand. “You’re not a terrible guardian, teenagers are just pains in the ass. Look, I’ve got one kid going through some gay panic bullshit, another that’s been fucking his boyfriend like a rabbit all over my house. Debbie keeps asking for shit we can’t afford, and Carl… Carl’s one more switchblade away from finishing his education in juvie.

“Does that make me a shitty parent? Yeah, maybe, but I don’t see anyone else stepping up to the fucking plate.”

Remus lifted his head to look in Fiona’s earnest and warm eyes and be sure that he was understanding her imparted wisdom correctly.

“You’re saying that it’s fine if I strike out every swing because nobody else is batting?” he asked, using Fiona’s own baseball metaphor.

“Yeah, everyone else is in the dugout,” Fiona said with a crooked grin. “You’ll miss ten hits, but you’ll get it eventually.”

Remus let out a dry chuckle at the terrible metaphor. He scrubbed his face hard with his hands and sighed as he sat up and casually placed one arm behind Fiona’s shoulders.

“You could make my life much easier if you would just tell your siblings about magic,” Remus told her. “I could have healed the bruise Phillip left on Harry if it wouldn’t be incredibly suspicious.”

Fiona had retrieved the bottle of liquor and she sputtered on the drink she took.

“Lip did what?” she gasped after she finished her coughing fit.

Remus frowned at her. Had Fiona not just said it herself? Or perhaps Remus misread the situation, but he didn’t think so. Lip had what Remus would assume was an incredibly confusing crush on Harry, that was clear as anything.

The damn boy signed his name on Harry’s arm with a tattoo gun, it didn’t take a psychologist to pair that with the filthy looks Lip used to give Mandy and Fred both.

Then Harry returned from some sort of robot fight celebration smelling like booze, sweat, and with a bruise on his eye and a broken nose. Harry told Hermione that he and Lip had a fight.

Remus did the math and assumed that Lip decided to fight off his less than heterosexual attraction to Harry with his fist. Remus would crack Lip’s skull on the cement next time he saw him, but Remus wasn’t entirely unsympathetic.

It had taken Remus time to accept his own sexuality and there were times where Remus struck out at the men he was attracted to due to his own internalized homophobia. Evan Rosier died with a scar that Remus left on him once.

“Lip hit Harry last weekend,” Remus told Fiona. “Did you not know?”

“No,” Fiona said so adamantly that Remus didn’t doubt her. “I’ve got one kid that keeps floating fucking blocks around his room. One kid that I think is literally trying to fuck away the fact that he had been groomed and molested by a fucking pervert for years. I thought Lip was my mostly good kid. Fuck.”

Fiona took another drink before Remus took his bottle back from her and drank it himself.

“Fuck, I hate kids,” Fiona groaned as she laid her head on Remus’ shoulder. “How’s Harry?”

“Depressed and refusing to leave his bed,” Remus said. “He’s quite moody, don’t tell him I said so.”

Fiona hummed thoughtfully. “Is he eating?”

“Hardly.”

“Talking to anyone?”

“Only when we force him to.”

“So it’s a code pink,” Fiona said, as if that meant anything to Remus. “Have Ethel babysit while you work and give him a few days.”

Remus glanced over at where Fiona was making herself comfortable in his side, stealing his body heat, and he raised a brow.

“Did you major in psychology?” he teased her. “Are you hiding a secret degree from me, love?”

“Hardly,” Fiona laughed. “I didn’t even graduate fucking high school. But my mom, Monica, she’s bipolar and odds are one of the kids will be too. So I just learned as much shit as Google could teach me so when they start I’m ready.”

That… Fiona wasn’t a terrible guardian at all…

“They’re lucky to have you,” Remus said truthfully as he tilted his head to touch Fiona’s.

“And Harry’s lucky to have you,” she said.

Remus wasn’t as certain of that, but he knew that he was lucky to have Fiona.

Even if she refused to shag him on the basis that Nymphadora would be returning to the States the following week and she was ‘saving her stamina’.

It was a betrayal of the worst sort that Nymphadora would steal Remus’ most convenient fuck buddy.

Regardless of anything else though, Fiona had given Remus excellent advice.

Remus knocked politely on the neighbor’s door before he left for work Friday morning. It was the woman, Veronica, who answered - thankfully.

“I was wondering if Ethel would like to make some money today?” Remus asked with a charming smile. “I need a babysitter, of a sort.”

“For you or Harry?” Veronica asked suspiciously, as if Remus were propositioning her fifteen year old foster daughter.

“Harry,” Remus was quick to assure her. Good Lord, what kind of man did they think he was?

“Harry’s having a rough week and I thought perhaps Ethel would be acceptable to staying with him while I work,” Remus explained. “If it’s no trouble to her home studies.”

“That girl refuses to do home studies,” Veronica muttered. She flicked her braids over her shoulder and nodded at Remus. “I’ll send her over in a few, she’s getting Jonah dressed.”

It was a two-for-one then; Harry adored the little blonde-haired, blue-eyed, baby boy of Ethel’s.

Remus put as much effort into teaching that day as his students did learning- minimal. The students were looking forward to a four-day week next week, for the American Thanksgiving holiday, and most of Remus’ thoughts were in the past, wondering if Harry and James had even more in common than their looks and sensitivity.

Sirius had told Remus something that James had been diagnosed with the summer before seventh year… Remus was wracking his mind trying to recall what it was. Whatever it was, James returned to Hogwarts a different person. He was no longer keeping everyone awake all night as he hummed rock songs under his breath, but he also didn’t spend days at a time in bed either.

Damn Sirius to hell and back. Remus could use his bloody assistance with his godson.

During the last hour of the day, Remus pondered on where Sirius might actually be.

Sirius had been a fan of Majorca, it was possible he returned there. Certainly he wouldn’t go to Grimmauld Place, Sirius despised his childhood home. Canada was apparently a possibility, Sirius had ‘accidentally’ ended up there before.

When school dismissed, Remus toyed with the idea of using Sirius’ own bank account to pay Mac to track him down.

Just like offering to torment Severus for Harry’s entertainment, the idea held merit.

Remus was surprised and pleased when he returned home around four and saw that not only was Harry out of bed, but he was dressed and lingering by the door. Harry’s hair was tangled and needed washed, but he was fully clothed and awake.

“Hermione’s been arrested,” Harry said the instant Remus walked through the door. “She’s told them you’re her guardian.”

Remus had to repeat that statement in his mind twice before it made any sense to him.

“Hermione Granger has been arrested?” Remus said, tasting the absurdity of the words.

Harry nodded. “Yep.”

“By the Chicago Police Department?” Remus checked.

“Yes,” Harry said again, more stressed than before. “I’ve got money to bail her out, but they need a guardian.”

Remus didn’t question why Hermione had stated he was her guardian as opposed to the two able-bodied adult parents she truly had.

Remus was still trying to imagine what world he lived in that Hermione Granger was in the custody of the muggle police department.

“Your friend Hermione?” Remus checked. It wasn’t a common name, by any means.

Harry stared at Remus with more sarcasm in a single look than most people held in their entire bodies.

“Fine,” Remus sighed. “Let’s go bail Hermione Granger out of jail.”

It was such a ridiculous statement. As was Harry’s when Remus asked if he knew what charges were.

“Er… I think she shot Lip.”

That… Remus had forgotten - as much as he preferred to not think about the night where his mistake could have cost endless children their lives - but Hermione and Ron Weasley had both been prepared to kill Remus, Sirius, and Severus for Harry. At thirteen. At thirteen they had been prepared to kill or die for Harry.

Remus remembered thinking that they were a gang of their own, more loyal than any he had ever seen.

So it wasn’t all that shocking after all, Remus just wondered what took Hermione five days to strike.

Hermione was seated quite politely at the table where she had been handcuffed.

In her opinion, the handcuffs were a bit much. It wasn’t as if Hermione was a threat to any of the police officers who brought her in.

And it wasn’t as if Hermione wouldn’t test out the wandless magic that her new classmates already had a moderate grasp on to escape if she wanted to.

Hermione had nothing to fear though. She was entirely aware of the laws - county, state, and federal - regarding assault with a deadly weapon. The rather confused officers at the Chicago Police Departmenr were well within their rights to arrest Hermione, but they would need a witness to charge her.

Phillip Gallagher wouldn’t testify. Even the thought of the idiot testifying brought an amused smile to Hermione’s mouth.

Hermione had been an obvious outsider as she waited outside the rather unfortunate looking high school that Harry and Harry’s new friends attended. She had to wait just across the street, a handgun on school property was a federal offense that would require no witness to testify for.

The goal was to make Phillip regret being born, not to be in prison while Harry’s child was being born.

Hermione had big plans on being an aunt. Someone would need to teach the child the importance of an education and clearly it wouldn’t be Harry.

It wasn’t as if Hermione were setting the best example as she faked extreme menstrual cramps to leave Ilvermony early that day. Although, Hermione had been planning since Monday and only waited so that she didn’t miss any important lectures, so she was still placing a higher importance on education than Harry. It was better to do it on a Friday in any matter, if Hermione wasn’t immediately released then it gave her more time before school resumed.

Hermione hummed while she waited on the final dismissal at the high school. There were a few passerby’s who made rather rude faces at her, but Hermione entertained herself by debating if it was a race issue or class. If Hermione wasn’t speaking and people were making faces, it tended to always be race or class driven. If Hermione was speaking then it meant they wanted her to be quiet.

In the current case, it also could have been the split lip and black eye that Hermione’s classmate helped her magically perfect before she left school.

Keylon was a nice boy, perhaps Hermione would try and set him and Harry up on a date. Certainly he wouldn’t take any sexual discomfort out on Harry as Phillip freaking Gallagher did.

As soon as the bell rang, Hermione hopped off the little ledge she had been sitting on and smoothed down her skirt. The adorably tiny gun of Mandy’s was tucked in the back of her skirt between her blouse and blazer. Hermione left it there, not wanting to show her card too quickly.

In the rush of teenagers leaving the school, Hermione was rather wistful for a moment and envious of Harry’s placement there. It wasn’t that Hermione wanted a substandard public muggle education, but muggle girls were much more attractive than witches for some reason.

There were girls with red lips and shirts that showed their midriffs. There was a pretty blonde with a cute smirk and jeans that were practically painted on her. It crossed Hermione’s mind that she… She could just strike up a conversation… introduce herself and ask what her name was…

Even the idea of it gave Hermione panicked cold chills. Hermione had gotten lucky a few times and made friends with people her age, but typically people wished Hermione would just go away.

There were people like Ron who made friends easily as he fit himself in different social groups. There were people like Harry that others couldn’t help but want to befriend. Then there were people like Hermione who had to fight tooth and nail to make friends.

It had taken a mad troll to become Harry’s friend and Hermione wouldn’t repay their relationship by allowing a single other person hurt her best friend.

As soon as Hermione saw Mandy, she took a very brief moment to once again appreciate Harry’s taste in women. Mandy was just as beautiful in person as she was in the photographs Harry used to send Hermione.

Mandy was beautiful and sweet, snarky and funny.

Mandy was also very pregnant with Harry’s baby and desperately in love with Harry though so it was silly to notice anything outside of that.

Lip though… Lip stood beside Mandy as they planned and Hermione was once again in a position to wonder what on earth Harry saw in a boy. Fred Weasley had been both unattractive and uninteresting. Fred tried to pretend he was interesting, but being loud and being interesting were two different things. And Lip… objectively, he wasn’t attractive in the slightest. His upper lip was out of proportion with his lower lip. He had a reasonably attractive body, one that would be wasted young due to the incessant cigarettes he had on him.

Harry had bragged that Lip was a genius, and perhaps he was, but he also called himself ‘Lip’ and did stupid things that hurt people Hermione loved and so he needed to see what genius actually was.

Hermione smiled when Mandy caught her eye. Mandy was well aware that Hermione planned to put the fear of God in Lip, though Hermione had left out a few key details.

Such as Hermione not planning to scare Lip with the gun, she planned to shoot him.

Mandy herded Lip toward Hermione with the subtle assistance of her brother. Mickey Milkovich was another idiot boy that Hermione had a plethora of words for, but she wouldn’t say a word until Harry admitted that he hurt his feelings. And debating on how long Hermione would spend in custody, she might not bother with words at all.

There was something rather exhilarating about using a gun.

Hermione wished that Harry had developed a crush on Ian, if she had to choose one. Hermione saw Ian out running in the mornings, training for the military. He was in good shape, cared enough about Harry to check on him after his brother hit him, and Hermione hardly saw him with tobacco. Ian was more brawn than brain, but Fred had been neither and Harry loved him.

And Ian had a sweet smile, one that he gave Hermione as they approached. It reminded Hermione of Ron a bit and gave her a momentary pang of grief.

Ron would love to shoot a muggle with a gun. Especially if that muggle had wounded Harry physically and emotionally.

“Hello,” Hermione said pleasantly when the four teenagers had crossed the street. Lip seemed rightfully wary of Hermione, but Mandy immediately linked their arms together in a show of casualness.

“Who the hell hit you?” Mickey asked in his brash and… rather difficult to decipher… accent. “I swear to fuck I’m gonna have to teach you how to smack a bitch down too.”

Hermione stalled with a hum and didn’t answer until they were beneath the bridge that Hermione knew for a fact was not on school property.

“When the police ask who hit me, I’m going to say it was Lip,” Hermione explained with a patient sort of pleasantness. “It’s going to make it really difficult for them to decide who is the more sympathetic witness, you see. There’s the black girl with the busted lip and the white boy with a busted knee.”

If other people were allowed to treat Hermione poorly due to her race, then Hermione wasn’t above using that same discrimination to her advantage.

Mandy was holding back a smile when the three boys skid to an immediate halt and stared at Hermione with amusing looks of incredulity.

“I didn’t fucking hit you,” Lip said, inching away from Hermione’s proximity.

“Lip’s knee isn’t busted,” Ian said slowly. Hermione had been too quick to discredit his intelligence, his blue eyes were sharp as they raked over Hermione’s body. Since Ian was rather blatantly homosexual, Hermione had to assume that he knew she had a weapon.

“And nobody’s callin’ the fuckin’ cops,” Mickey snorted before he spat on the ground.

Ugh.

Boys were so disgusting.

In the blink of an eye, Hermione carefully pulled Mandy’s gun from where she had tucked it. She clicked back the hammer while Lip’s eyes widened and she very purposefully aimed directly at his left knee before she pulled the trigger.

“Someone should call the police,” Hermione said while the gunshot echoed around them and Lip screamed in a very satisfying way. Hermione dropped the gun to the ground and kicked it away. “I believe Lip’s knee is busted now.”

Mandy looked at Hermione with stars in her eyes.

“You’re my fucking hero,” she breathed.

Mickey looked at Hermione with fear in his eyes.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” he said before actually fleeing the scene.

Hermione accepted both statements as fact as she took a quick chance to bend down and put her face directly in Lip Gallagher’s.

“If you ever hurt Harry again I will end your life,” Hermione hissed. She blindly stuck her index finger in the hot and bleeding wound she left in Lip’s leg and twisted it hard. “I hope this hurts like hell.”

Judging from the way that Lip fainted before the police arrived, Hermione was sure it did.

It was a shame that he missed Hermione’s performance, it was one of her best, she was sure.

When Harry and Professor Lupin arrived, Hermione was still sitting quietly in the interrogation room with an officer who seemed to know Harry. Hermione had repeated her story multiple times and thought about saddest things she could to add the tears that made men so uncomfortable.

Hermione was just so sorry and she never meant to hurt anyone. All she wanted to do was scare Lip after he hit her in front of Mandy Milkovich who had witnessed the entire thing.

When the gun went off, Hermione was so scared. And ‘was she going to go to jail for a really long time?’

She sniffled to Officer Markovich that she would deserve it, but all Hermione truly deserved was one of those muggle awards for acting.

What was it?

Oh. An Oscar.

Hermione deserved an Oscar Award.