Celebration Day
Ian tried to think of the word that described the feeling in the living room… omnipresent wasn’t the right word… ominous? He didn’t think that was it either…
Oppressive. That was the one.
The air was fucking oppressive over Thanksgiving dinner.
The only sounds were the clinking of silverware as everyone took forced bites of the meal that poor Fiona slaved over. Nobody, except for fucking Frank, seemed very interested in eating, and it was so uncomfortable that Ian only stayed in his seat for Fiona. Every so often someone would force a cough, the only real sound of conversation past the initial praise for Fiona pulling the meal off and gratitude toward everyone else for pitching in to pay for it.
Remus sat between Fiona and Tonks, looking fucking miserable. Ian doubted he’d even be there if Tonks hadn’t literally dragged him to their house and made him help move furniture and set up the folding tables and chairs for everyone to sit at. Ian didn’t know why Tonks couldn’t let him miss the dinner, the poor dude had to go to Indianapolis the day before to possibly identify his nephew’s body.
Thank fucking God or Allah or Gandalf, whoever was in the sky watching over the ghetto kids that it wasn’t Harry. Ian didn’t actually know what Lip would have done if it was Harry, but judging from the way he came home last night looking like he went ten rounds with Mike Tyson, Ian didn’t think it would be anything good.
Mandy and Hermione were at the table too, both of them unnaturally quiet while the tension even did them in. Hermione occasionally nudged Mandy with her elbow and smiled at her, some secret girl code because Mandy would usually either raise an eyebrow or roll her eyes and Hermione would nod or grimace in response.
Mickey was quiet as fuck beside Ian. He was the one who thought it was such a brilliant fucking idea to borrow a few tables and some chairs from the Alibi so everyone could sit together.
Ian was sure he regret it, since Frank and Monica’s presence made even Ethel look uncomfortable.
“Is anyone going to introduce me to your friends?” Monica eventually asked, smiling at Debbie. It was fucking cheating to look at Debbie, she was the only one of the Gallagher kids to talk to Monica since she arrived - un-fucking-invited - for dinner.
“Oh! Yeah! So this is Mandy.” Debbie smiled brightly at Mandy who hid her face behind her dark hair. “She’s pregnant with Harry’s baby but she doesn’t want to keep it, so Lip paid her to give it to Harry except Harry ran away and he might be dead. We’re all really hoping he’s not,” she added quickly when Remus made a quiet sound of fucking misery.
“Debbie,” Fiona hissed, pinning their sister with a disproving stare. “Some shit is family business only.”
“Excuse you!” Frank cried immediately. “What are we? The postmen?”
Monica laughed like a dumbass at Frank’s bullshit and Ian could feel his temper starting to rise. Not as quickly as Lip though, his head snapped up and even with a busted face he looked pissed and ready to fight.
“No, because we like the mail man,” Lip said with what Ian called ‘the drawl before the brawl’. “Also, the mail man knows our names and we see him almost daily. So, no, Frank, Monica, don’t worry, we don’t consider you nearly in the same category as the mail man.”
“What is that dudes name?” Kevin asked abruptly. “Is it Bill? Bob?”
“It’s Mitch,” Mickey said, surprising pretty much everyone. “What?” he asked defensively, noticing the looks he got. “Mitch likes meth, I like makin’ money. Fuck off.”
“Oh, Frank.” Monica smiled up at Frank and put her hand on his arm. “Do you remember the summer we spent selling meth? Ooh, wasn’t it wonderful? All the money we made? What did we do with it?”
“You stole it and came home with a dog,” Frank said with his own stupid fucking grin. “You said all little boys needed a dog.”
“And it bit Lip while you two were high and I had to drag him to the hospital in a fucking wagon,” Fiona said. Fiona shoved her chair away from the table and stood up. “I need some fucking air.”
Ian watched his sister storm out the front door and as soon as the door closed behind her, he was done being nice for her sake.
“Nobody fucking wants you two here,” he told his ‘parents’ harshly. “Can you not see that you’re making everyone fucking miserable? That just looking at you two makes us miserable?”
“Now you listen here,” Frank said, glaring at Ian with all the hate that Ian always knew he felt for him. They might have been sitting together, but Frank hated Monica and Ian, with his red hair and freckles, looked more like Monica than any of the others. Debbie was a close second, but she had Frank’s eyes.
“Your mother is back now and she wants to be here. So sorry that you little fucks are too ungrateful—”
“Oh you’re going to want to shut your fuckin’ mouth right now,” Mickey snarled.
“Who the fuck even are you?” Frank asked, squinting at Mickey like he’d never seen him before. “You’re not family. Fuck, most of you aren’t family.”
“And yet we know Carl’s birthday,” Hermione interrupted in a perfectly polite voice that didn’t match the dark look on her face at all. “Do you? Either of you?”
“Of course I do,” Monica cried, reaching out to grab Carl’s hand. Carl slid his hands to his lap and Ian fucking hated the way he looked so upset.
Carl was never upset, Ian didn’t even know he had feelings that could be hurt. If something was upsetting Carl then it was bad.
“It’s in June,” Monica said with a slipping smile. “I remember it was sooo hot out!”
“Carl’s birthday is in fucking December,” Lip snapped at her as he put a protective hand on Carl’s head.
“Oh. Maybe I’m thinking of Debbie,” Monica said while Frank nodded beside her.
“WE ALL HAVE FUCKING WINTER BIRTHDAYS!” Ian screamed.
“DON’T YOU YELL AT YOUR MOTHER!” Frank yelled, staffing when he tried to stand up. “YOU THINK IT’S EASY KEEPING TRACK OF ALL YOU LITTLE FUCKERS?”
“I THINK YOU NEVER FUCKING TRIED!” Ian screamed. “NEITHER OF YOU GAVE A SINGLE FUCK!”
“I wanted to!” Monica said, crying freely like that would somehow get her some sympathy points. “You have no idea what it was like for me!”
“Poor Monica, spare us the fucking tears.” Lip slapped his hand on the table hard, causing Liam to let out a scared cry. Veronica plucked him from his high chair and held him close.
“I wanted to be a mom!” Monica said to Lip. “It’s Frank! I couldn’t stay with him!”
“Me?” Frank asked. “I gave you everything, Mon!”
“YOU GAVE ME HERPES AND ANXIETY!”
“YOU FUCKED MY BROTHER AND HE GAVE YOU HERPES!”
“Okay.” Remus stood up and moved to grab Frank’s shoulder. “Time for you to leave.”
“Don’t you fucking—”
When Frank swung at Remus, Remus didn’t hold back at all as he caught Frank’s fist in one hand and knocked his ass out with his other hand.
One hit.
One fucking hit.
Ian glanced guiltily at Mickey when he felt his dick perk up in interest at the single fucking hit that was strong enough to knock Frank unconscious. Except Mickey’s jaw was practically on the table so Ian didn’t feel so guilty anymore.
Monica screamed and suddenly Tonks had her by the shoulders, guiding her out the back door while Remus dragged Frank. Kevin lunged to his feet to help, but Remus waved him off.
“We’ll return,” Remus said calmly. “Will someone inform Fiona?”
“Tell her I want pie when I get back,” Tonks said cheerfully, speaking loudly to he heard over Monica’s protests at being manhandled.
Ian kind of deflated when the back door closed and the house was quiet aside from the cries of Ethel’s son, Jonah.
“Thank God,” Hermione huffed suddenly. “They’re rather insufferable, aren’t they? How most of you grew to be perfectly wonderful people is beyond me.”
By most of you, Ian assumed she meant everyone except for Lip. And for no fucking reason at all, it made Ian laugh.
Ian’s laugh triggered Mickey and Mandy, then Carl. By the time Veronica brought Fiona back inside to finish dinner, everyone was laughing their asses off at the complete stupidity of the day.
Remus and Tonks weren’t gone too long and when Fiona carefully asked where Frank and Monica were, Tonks only laughed.
“Not Canada,” she said vaguely, popping back down in her seat after kissing Fiona square on the lips. “Listen, I was promised pumpkin pie.”
The mood lifted in the room with Frank and Monica gone. It wasn’t perfect, half of them had been up most of the night searching for Harry, but it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than it had been.
Carl bragged that he made the pumpkin pie and Tonks was quick to praise the hell out of him after she finally got to try a piece. Carl was blushing when Tonks offered to pay him to make another one for her to take home to her parents.
Fiona looked half a second away from crying, but she held it together through the rest of the meal. Everyone helped pack up leftovers and split them up between the three houses. After Kevin, Veronica, Ethel, Jonah, and Liam (who Veronica offered to take for the night) left for their place, Everyone price of Debbie and Carl migrated to the porch to smoke.
“I’m sorry you guys had to deal with that,” Fiona said when Remus handed her a joint. She sat on the rail of the porch between Tonks and Lip and looked heartbroken.
“Don’t worry about it,” Tonks said, slipping an around her back and tilting her head to touch Fiona’s for a moment. “I rather like dysfunctional families. It really makes mine seem normal.”
Ian grinned after he took a hit of the cigarette he shared with Mickey.
“What’s your family like?” Ian asked curiously. Not many people could out-dysfunction the Gallaghers.
Hermione leaned against the wall between Mandy and Remus with her arms crossed and grinned at the ground while Tonks perked up beneath the sudden spotlight.
“Well my parents are lovely,” Tonks said enthusiastically. “It’s the rest of my relatives, you see. My mum has two sisters and one of them is in prison, she’s entirely mental.”
“What’s she in prison for?” Mickey asked.
“Torture,” Tonks said breezily. “Her and her husband both. Then my mum’s other sister just had her husband go to prison. He… um…” Tonks looked uncertainly at Remus for an odd moment.
“He was arrested for gang activity,” Remus said smoothly. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man, truly.”
“Was that the gang that fucking tattooed Harry?” Lip asked.
“Harry told you about that?” Hermione asked sharply, her eyes narrowed and entirely focused on where Lip sat with his flask in one hand and cigarette in the other.
“Yeah, is that alright with you?” Lip asked Hermione mockingly. “Or do you want to shoot my other knee?”
“I’d really like to shoot your other knee,” Hermione said with a smile. “I think I’ll wait until you’re sleeping though, make sure my aim is perfect.”
Ian and Mickey snorted and Ian was sure that Lip wasn’t going to get a good nights sleep for a fucking while.
“Wait!” Mandy had one hand over her stomach and she was frowning at Tonks and Lip. “What gang tattooed Harry?”
“Uh… a really bad one,” Tonks said with a bob of her head. “Anyway, so that’s my family.”
“We’ve got you beat by about four uncles in prison,” Mickey bragged. “Tortures cute, but our Uncle Al was on the news when they found his graveyard.”
“Didn’t Aunt Cathy kill a doctor one time?” Mandy asked Mickey. “The one at Planned Parenthood?”
“Yup.”
“Is your aunt very pro-life?” Hermione asked Mandy.
“Oh, fuck no,” Mandy laughed. “The doctor said something about her getting a punch card for abortions and she shot him.”
“Right in the fuckin’ mouth.” Mickey raised his fingers and mimed shooting a gun while Mandy laughed.
They were so fucked up it made Frank and Monica look like great parents.
“How about you, Remus?” Ian asked, part-curiosity and part-self-defense. Nobody would talk about Ian’s family bullshit if they all had their own.
“Me?” Remus took a long drag from his hint and carefully blew the smoke away from Mandy. He shrugged a shoulder. “My parents died when I was young. I was raised in an orphanage.”
“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” Ian muttered guiltily.
“It’s fine, I had a rather eventful childhood,” Remus said, flashing a tired smile at Ian.
“When did you join that gang?” Fiona asked, smoothing past the discomfort from Ian’s nosiness.
“A gang?” Hermione asked, looking up at Remus immediately. “You joined a gang? Does she mean the Marauders?”
“She means the Sabini Gang,” Remus said. He unbottoned the tan sweater he wore over a white tshirt and everyone looked at the tattoo he showed them on his right shoulder.
Ian looked at the three tick marks and raised an eyebrow. Gang tats were common in Chicago, and Ian knew what the tick marks usually meant.
Remus didn’t act like a guy with three confirmed kills, but after the way he laid Frank out, Ian could see it.
“Oh that’s badass,” Mickey said, nodding at Remus in approval.
“They are my family,” Remus said simply as he tossed the sweater over his shoulder. “So I suppose, in a way, I have the most dysfunctional family. I hope there’s a prize.”
Fiona and Tonks burst out in stoned giggles that everyone else, even Remus, echoed.
They were just a huge group of fuck-ups with shit families. Maybe not Hermione, but she was crazy enough on her own.
Ian abruptly stopped laughing when he saw the cherries and berries of a police car turning on their street. Mickey went quiet too and everyone else turned to see what they were staring at.
Tonks swung around and leaped gracefully off the porch when the car pulled up right in front of Remus’ house. Everyone went quiet and Hermione grabbed Remus and Mandy’s hands to squeeze tightly.
“Evening.” Tony climbed out of the drivers seat of his car and tipped his hat at Tonks even while he squinted past her to the group on the porch. “Is Remus there?”
“I’m here,” Remus said, his voice a solemn contrast to what it had been just sixty fucking seconds ago. Remus released Hermione’s hand and Fiona helped him down the stairs of the porch, leading him to the sidewalk where Tonks was.
Ian, Mickey, Mandy, Lip, and Hermione stood in a silent group on the porch, waiting for the news.
“I found something of yours,” Tony said. He opened the back door of the car and someone whimpered when Harry climbed from the seat.
“Harry!!” Remus broke away from Fiona and Tonks and grabbed Harry by the shoulders to stare in his face for a moment before he pulled him toward him in a crushing hug.
Ian watched them embrace and couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that climbed his throat and made him want to be sick. Remus’ shoulders were shaking with what sounded like the most relieved cries in the world and Harry was spewing apology after apology.
Ian had Fiona and he loved her so god damned much, but Ian would do anything to have a father-figure like Remus in his life. Remus wasn’t pissed at all, not yet anyway, he just stood on the curb and held Harry like he was the most important thing in the world to him.
Ian was actually so distracted watching Harry and Remus reunite that he missed the other passenger in the car that climbed out behind Harry until he was standing on the steps directly in front of the group of teens.
“Oi, which one of you is Lip Gallagher?” he asked in a gruff mimic of the English accent that Ian had gotten used to hearing. He was stocky, well muscled, and had small eyes nearly the same shade of green as Harry’s. There was something about the way that he clenched his fists at his side that made Ian think he wasn’t there for a friendly chat.
“He is,” Mickey said, shoving Lip hard toward the boy.
Lip didn’t even get a chance to run his mouth before the boy grabbed Lip by his shirt collar and clocked him in the nose with his fist. Lip kicked out when everyone heard his nose crack and blood began to spray.
“Stay the hell away from my cousin,” the boy spat as he darted away from Lip’s swinging fist like a professional. “And… you.” The boy locked his eyes on Mickey and Ian didn’t even have a chance to defend him before he lunged forward and landed a hard punch to Mickey’s stomach, bending him over and knocking him to his knees.
“You owe him a bloody apology,” the dude said.
Ian knew that the rules were he was supposed to jump in and kick the guy’s ass on his brother and boyfriend’s behalf. And any other day, Ian would do that. Except Ian was kind of busy wondering what the fuck Mickey did to Harry while the dude wiped his bloodied knuckle off on his jeans and began strutting away like it was nothing.
“Mandy, pinch me,” Hermione breathed suddenly. “I must be dreaming because I thought I just saw Dudley Dursley defend our Harry.”
Mandy did pinch her and Hermione yelped, catching Harry’s attention.
Harry was still wrapped up in Remus’ iron-grip and he looked from where Fiona was fussing over Lip’s busted nose to where Mickey was struggling to get to his feet before he grinned at Dudley.
“Hey, guys, meet my cousin.”
*****
Dudley Dursley didn’t give a damn about the bloody American boys who looked like they wanted to kick his arse.
They could try, but they’d need a few more mates before they managed to do much more than give Dudley a nosebleed. Dudley had been boxing his whole life and he was the Regional Champion in his weight-class.
Those boys were nothing at all.
Dudley didn’t even spare them a second glance when he followed Harry and his dad’s friend, Remus Lupin, the werewolf, inside Harry’s place. The house was a mess and Dudley kind of liked it immediately.
His house was too clean, it made Dudley feel like he couldn’t walk across a room without getting Harry in trouble for it. Not that Dudley had noticed or cared about that when he’d been younger, but the last two summers had been crummy with the sudden understanding that Dudley had.
Harry’s house was nice though. It smelled like cigarettes and coffee and there were papers, blankets, and books scattered all over the living room. Lupin led them from the living room to the kitchen and he pushed Harry in a chair while he started talking about heating him up some dinner.
“I’m fine,” Harry protested, looking like he’d rather be anywhere except there.
Dudley snorted and sat down beside Harry after he swiped a bag of frozen corn from the freezer for his knuckles.
“You haven’t ate since we left Smeltings,” Dudley reminded him. “If I’m starving, you’ve got to be.”
“I’ll make you both a plate,” Lupin said, glancing over his shoulder at Dudley. “You must be Petunia’s son?”
“Dudley Dursley,” Dudley said.
“He likes to be called Big D,” Harry grinned. Harry had his chin propped on his hand with his elbow on the table and he looked like he was about five seconds from falling asleep.
Harry might have been grinning then, but he sure as hell wasn’t grinning when he showed up at Dudley’s dorm in the middle of the night a few days ago…
Dudley had been sound asleep, probably dreaming of Janessa’s perfect arse, when a tapping noise kept irritating him.
It took Dudley a solid sleepy minute to realize the tapping was coming from his window and he grumpily climbed from bed to figure out what was going on. Dudley kind of thought maybe Harry sent him a letter with his pretty white bird again…
Dudley didn’t expect Harry himself to be at Dudley’s window.
Harry looked like hell and Dudley grabbed Harry a jacket when he grabbed one for himself before he took off out of his dorm to get outside. Harry was slumped against the tree that stood in the middle of the courtyard for the boys dorms.
“What the hell?” Dudley hissed, shoving his jacket at Harry.
“Ta,” Harry said flatly, pulling the jacket on and drowning in it.
Dudley squinted at him and tried to decide how unhappy he was. It wasn’t as bad as it was when the wizards brought him home with that branding on his arm, but definitely worse than the day they were attacked by the sadness-ghosts.
“What’s happened?” Dudley asked abruptly. There was no way Harry just decided to visit in the middle of the night on a Monday. Especially not when he had bags so thick under his eyes that Dudley nearly mistook them for actual bruises.
“Mandy…” Harry’s lower lip wobbled and Dudley hated to see him cry.
Dudley actually hated to see anyone cry, but especially his little cousin.
“Mandy sold the baby to Lip,” Harry said in a rush. He looked up at Dudley with wet green eyes. “That’s why she didn’t get an abortion, because Lip paid her not to.”
Dudley’s chin hit his chest, and then Harry just kept talking and everything just got worse and worse.
Which was what ended up with Dudley packing a backpack and leaving Smeltings. Harry couldn’t stay in the closet of Dudley’s dorm (even though Harry made a messed up joke about old times sake) and Dudley couldn’t trust any of the bloody people around Harry to take care of him.
Sure, Lupin was Mister Kind and Concerned while he made them both plates of dinner, but did he know that Harry had been saying mental shit about dying? And Dudley begrudgingly liked Harry’s friend, the witch, for shooting Lip, but she didn’t notice that Harry was ready to jump off a bridge either.
They were damn lucky that Dudley’s parents signed a waiver that allowed Dudley to get prescriptions from the school doctor. All Dudley had to do was describe Harry’s symptoms as if they were his own and he got his cousin a bottle of anti-depressants.
Harry refused to take them, but Dudley wheedled him until he changed his mind.
“Who d’you reckon will raise your baby for you?” Dudley asked Harry the day before they set out for the States. They were in the dining hall of Smeltings and Harry wore one of Abe’s shirts to try and blend in. Dudley’s friends had been stoked to meet the cousin he was always sharing stories about. When Dudley said he needed help hiding Harry on campus for a few days, everyone pitched in.
“What?” Harry had been picking at the food on his tray and he looked up at Dudley with the same tired look he’d worn since showing up.
“I reckon that you’ll end up killing yourself,” Dudley said, forcing himself to sound casual even if it made him sad to think of his cousin dying. “And Mandy didn’t want it, right? You think your dad’s mate will take care of it or will the wizards send it to Mum and Dad too?”
Harry took one of the pills that night and they set out for Chicago the next morning. It was kind of fun to travel with Harry, they did an odd jig between normal and magical methods with trains and porkies. They had been at a bus stop to head for Harry’s place when some cop found them and insisted on driving them.
Dudley nearly took a swing at him when he spent the fifteen minute drive telling Harry how worried about him his friends had been. It was fine if it was true, but Dudley didn’t think Harry needed a guilt trip over it.
Dudley bit his tongue and waited though, needing to settle a few other scores first. He couldn’t hit a girl, especially not a pregnant girl, but Dudley could hit Lip Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich with every bit of muscle he had.
Lip hit Harry while Harry was sucking his cock (something that was gross and Dudley didn’t like to picture. If Dudley wouldn’t want to put his own cock in his mouth, he wouldn’t do it for another bloke either.) so it was fair. Mickey had told Harry that he didn’t want to date then turned around and started dating the red-headed bloke, which made Harry feel used.
Getting to hit those two settled quite a bit of Dudley’s simmering anger and he was able to stay calm and polite while he waited for Harry to eat and then pass out in his bed.
Then Dudley went to fund Lupin to have a chat with him.
Lupin sat in the kitchen with a mug that smelled like coffee cradled in his hands. He looked up and smiled at Dudley when Dudley crept down the stairs.
“You can sleep in Hermione or Mandy’s room, if you’d like,” Lupin offered. “They’re staying next door so Harry isn’t entirely overwhelmed.”
“That’s nice,” Dudley said as he pulled a chair out directly across from Lupin and dropped in it. “I’ll probably kip on Harry’s floor though, it’s easier to keep him in sight that way.”
Lupin exhaled loudly and nodded. “I understand. I’m quite grateful to you, Dudley. I had no idea that Harry would go to you. I see I should save your number.”
“You probably didn’t know Harry would show up at my school because you don’t seem to know him at all,” Dudley said, drawing himself up tall. “I reckon he stopped by to tell me bye in person. Harry’s polite like that, he’s the kind of nutter who won’t just send a text, no, he likes to deliver his final messages in person.”
Because Dudley was sure that was what Harry had been up to.
Smeltings had a big scandal the year before when one of the girls killed herself on campus. Everyone had to listen to a grief counselor talk about signs of depression and ‘red flags’. Dudley spent the time playing pool on his phone with Mary-Anne, but some of it must have gotten stuck in his head anyway.
Lupin went pale at Dudley’s blunt words, but Dudley want someone that used more words than he had to to get a point across.
“I see,” Lupin said quietly. “In that case, I clearly owe you a great deal more than just gratitude.”
“I don’t want anything,” Dudley said. He rested his forearms on the table and scowled at Lupin. “It’d be brilliant if you could keep a better eye on my cousin though. You might not have noticed, but he doesn’t have any bloody parents and mine weren’t exactly crying when he left.”
Dad had actually taken Mum out for dinner to celebrate the day the wizards said that Harry would be leaving their house. It made Dudley ill.
“I intend to,” Lupin said seriously. “I’m quite fond of Harry and I can see now that I may have overlooked some worrisome behavior before.”
Dudley scoffed; he was sure that was an understatement.
“Well I dunno what your lot do for depression, but I got Harry some medicine,” Dudley said. He pulled the bottle from his pocket and tossed it to Lupin. Harry took one before he went to sleep and then Dudley swiped the bottle.
The girl at Smeltings that died had done it by swallowing a bottle of pills so Dudley wasn’t taking any chances.
Lupin looked surprised when he caught the bottle and then frowned after he read the label.
“Harry’s taking your medication?” Lupin asked Dudley.
“Don’t be daft,” Dudley said, rolling his eyes. “It’s Harry’s medicine. I just had to lie and pretend to have his symptoms to get it.”
Lupin’s lips twitched like something Dudley said was funny as he pocketed the bottle and nodded.
“I see,” he said evenly. “Thank you, Dudley. You’ve been a… rather unexpected godsend.”
If Lupin thought that Dudley getting Harry some medicine was unexpected, Dudley couldn’t wait to tell him that he and Harry hatched a plan to ensure that Dudley could stay in Chicago.
At least until June, Dudley wanted to meet his niece or nephew and Chicago was obviously a ton more interesting of a place than Smeltings was.