Snitches get Stitches

Harry blinked at Remus’s friend Tonks and tried to wrap his mind around what she was saying. Not the words, Harry wasn’t stupid, but why she was the one telling him the words.

It had already been an odd morning, it seemed as if that would be the schedule for the day.

When Harry woke up, he felt excited to wake up- which was very odd. But then Dudley seemed excited too for his first day at Harry’s school. Mandy had been laughing when Harry passed her room. And Hermione had been humming a song while she made breakfast.

It wasn’t just everyone’s low thrum of happiness in the house that was odd, it was also the person missing from the house that was odd.

Remus should have been back the day before, but he never showed. Harry peeked in his room and saw his bed was still rumpled in the identical way it had been before, proving Remus never returned to the house.

Hermione didn’t seem worried when Harry mentioned as much, cautiously edging around the werewolf transformation since Mandy could hear.

“Maybe he got caught up with the Order or something,” Hermione suggested. She gave everyone plates of the absolute worst looking eggs Harry had ever seen - how did someone muck up scrambled eggs? - but everyone dutifully tucked in so as to not hurt her feelings.

Dudley whispered that Harry was a better cook and Harry kicked him. Then Dudley flicked egg at Harry, Harry flipped Dudley off, and it nearly became an arm wrestling match that Harry would have lost over breakfast.

Harry positively leapt from his seat when there was a knock at the front door though. It was partly to get away from the eggs that were somehow both runny and burned and also because he hoped it was Remus.

It wasn’t.

It was Tonks with a furry orange cap covering her pink hair, a winter coat on, and a cup of coffee she gave Harry with her odd message.

“Remus told you to tell me to go to a doctor?” Harry asked slowly, repeating the words that Tonks offered him. Harry didn’t understand that, even when Tonks nodded. “Where is Remus?”

“London,” Tonks said breezily, not quite meeting Harry’s eye in a way that was making him nervous. She perked up though, bounced forward on her trainers. “He did make the appointment though, it seemed very important. Oh! Ron’s brother Charlie is going to come to Fiona’s for dinner! You should come!”

Harry didn’t let Tonks distract him, he focused on the important bit, the bit about Remus.

“Why’s Remus still in London?” Harry asked. “Is he okay?”

“Mmm, something about an old friend,” Tonks said quickly… too quickly.

Harry felt his heart beating quickly in his chest and he tried to not be a freak about that. But Remus had never delayed before and Tonks didn’t seem to be acting very truthful.

“When’s he coming back?” Harry asked.

“That is a great question!” Tonks declared. She looked around quickly before pulling her wand from inside her coat and swishing it at her side.

Harry pinched his eyebrows down when the like silver chameleon patronus niggled at something in the back of his mind. Had Harry ever seen her patronus before?

“Wotcher, Remus! It’s Tonks!” Tonks said cheerfully, giving the chameleon the message. “Your kid is bothering me with all his questions about where are you, when are you going to be home, what are you doing? Harry, say hi.”

Harry blinked and shifted from side to side. “Er… hi.”

“So there you have it! See you soon!”

Tonks sent the chameleon away and then gave Harry one last bright smile.

“Two o’clock, doctor. Six o’clock, dinner. Ta!”

Was Tonks always so cheerful or had she been feigning it to cover something? Harry watched her bounce down the front walk of his house and then go in the Gallagher house before he went back inside. Hermione was the only one in the living room, rushing around and gathering her things for school.

Harry was busy thinking about Remus and Tonks, mostly Remus, but he did pause to consider how much he would miss Hermione when her parents had their own place at the end of the month.

“Was that Tonks?” Hermione asked. She stuffed the book she left on the coffee table in her posh Illvermony bag and then straightened up to pull on her coat.

“Yeah.” Harry started toeing on his shoes, knowing in his heart that he needed to get to school before dropout was added to his already unflattering life summary.

“Does she know where Remus is?”

Harry forced himself to sound nonchalant, careless. “No.”

“Harry.”

Harry had been staring fixedly at his shoes and he licked his lips and took a slow breath before he looked at Hermione. Hermione had on her ‘I’m older and smarter than you, so you should listen to me’ face on.

Harry liked that face sometimes. It meant that Hermione, who was actually a genius, had a different opinion than Harry. It would be an opinion she would certainly share, and would share in a way that made it not sound like an opinion at all, but fact.

“Remus will be back,” Hermione said, crossing the room in two long steps. She wrapped her arms around Harry and hugged him until the buzzing under his skin began to recede.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, lying to Hermione even while he clutched her with one hand, wishing suddenly to not have to face the day.

It was probably inevitable, Harry should have known that the second he opened his stupid mouth in Little Whining. Harry unloaded every fucking thought he had on Remus and then Remus didn’t return home after his transformation…

Harry knew better, he did.

All of the quiet happiness Harry felt that morning was well and gone before he even made it to school.

Harry, Mandy, and Dudley paused across the street from the school so that Harry could smoke. Harry tried to shoo the other two inside, but Mandy rolled her stubborn eyes and Dudley asked for a cigarette.

“Smoking’s bad for you,” Harry said as he passed over his cigarettes and lighter. It was a joke, one that fell flat.

“All the good things are.” Dudley smirked while he lit his cigarette and Harry tried to smile back, but it was strained and fooled no one.

“Who was at the door this morning?” Mandy asked, her hands stuffed in the pocket of… was that Hermione’s coat? Harry blinked, realized it didn’t matter if it was, then shrugged.

“Tonks,” he told them. Harry didn’t need to disguise anything, he was forcing himself to not feel anything.

It worked in the dungeon, in the graveyard, with the torture. Harry just shut everything off and explained on autopilot.

“Remus made a doctor’s appointment for me. Oh,” Harry had a sudden thought and he looked at Mandy for an answer, “if I don’t have a guardian to sign me out early, what happens if I just leave?”

“Not shit,” Mandy said. “Are you sick?”

“Seems that way,” Harry said evenly. It was probably about the medicine that Dudley got Harry. Those pills were nearly gone and Harry didn’t consider that he would need it refilled.

“You want company?” Dudley asked, a knowing glint in his green eyes that somehow, against all odds, soothed Harry’s raw nerves.

Harry spent most of his life feeling as if he had no proper guardian. Harry had a cousin, he had some good friends. Everything was different in Chicago than it had been back home - Harry had a Mandy, a baby, a tattoo hiding a branding, a hopeless nicotine addiction - but it was the same too.

If it was the same, then Harry knew how to navigate everything. If Remus didn’t return home, if Harry was too heavy a burden to bear, then Harry could figure it out.

“No.” Harry did grin before he heard the warning bell and took a last drag off his cigarette. “I’ll be fine.”

Like before, like always.

It wasn’t actually ‘like before’ because when Harry slipped out of the school at a quarter past one, he found Mandy and Dudley waiting on him. They didn’t say anything, Harry didn’t embarrass himself by thanking them.

They just fell in step and Dudley told Harry that school lunch was terrible and they needed to walk fast enough to stop at a shop and buy a snack.

“What do I wanna be when I grow up?”

“Boxing instructor.”

“Nah, I’d end up punching the kids.”

“Note to self, don’t let you babysit.”

Dudley threw an eraser at Harry, bouncing it off Harry’s forehead and making Mandy laugh. They were in the waiting room for the doctor Harry was meant to see and Dudley was working on some ‘get to know you’ packet from their English teacher. It was full of ridiculous questions, like what his favorite color was.

Harry’s was red, what did that tell anyone?

They should ask Dudley what his boggart was, ask him what thoughts kept him awake at night, ask why he was never enough. They should ask if he really thought everything was in his control or if he knew that the ground under his feet was trembling.

If they wanted to know him, really know him, they would ask those questions.

“Harrison Black?”

It jolted Harry from the quiet reverie he had slipped in to hear his name called. It also confirmed to Harry that Remus wasn’t coming back, why else would he call Harry a Lupin at the police station then Black for the appointment?

Dudley stayed where he was and Harry sort of twitched his hand so Mandy didn’t try following him. The nurse that called for Harry had a friendly smile, but Harry figured if they were going to be talking about his feelings then it was a short lived smile.

There were a lot of standard questions that Harry didn’t know how to respond to -

“How tall are you? Hm? Okay, stand here.”

“Are you sexually active? What does ‘not anymore’ mean? Exactly?”

“Who do you reside with? Hm… any adults? Your uncles, I see, and are one of them here today?”

“Do you feel safe at home?”

That one had been laughable and the nurse misunderstood Harry’s grin of bitterness for amusement. If she wrote down yes then that was fine, but Harry never felt safe anywhere. Not anymore.

Maybe not ever.

Harry had been a child when he learned that ‘home’ was often the most unsafe place to be.

The nurse asked Harry roughly a million and eight questions before finally the doctor arrived with questions of his own. The very first one threw Harry immediately -

“If you remember, at what age did you first show signs of magic?”

Harry blinked at the normal seeming muggle doctor. He wore a lab coat, a nice dress shirt and slacks beneath it. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed neatly. He had a patient and impassive smile.

And he was asking about magic.

“I… magic?” Harry replied weakly, his pulse thrumming quickly. “I’m not -”

“Oh.” The doctor chuckled and relaxed on the stool he had perched on. His eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled at Harry. “I thought Miss Tonks told you. I’m married to a witch, Mister Potter. No need for secrets.”

Harry was the one to say “Oh” then. His answers for the doctor came automatically then. If the man was married to a witch and knew Harry by his real last name, then there wasn’t any reason to lie.

That didn’t mean Harry felt much like talking though, not while the doctor’s words kept echoing in his head through their entire meeting.

The medicine Harry had been taking was sent to a pharmacy for a refill after the dosage was changed. Harry was given the information for a psychiatrist that the doctor made him an appointment with for ‘further mental care’. The doctor also gave him a card with a ‘suicide prevention hotline’ number on it.

Harry pocketed that one quickly, his face burning.

Even even Harry rejoined his cousin and (friend? mother of his child? ex-girlfriend?) Mandy, Harry was listening to the same six words over and over and over.

‘I thought Miss Tonks told you’.

Remus didn’t make the appointment, Tonks did.

Tonks made the appointment because Remus left for the full moon and wasn’t coming back.

“You’re acting weird,” Mandy said when they were walking from the bus stop to Harry’s house. “What’s wrong?”

“What?” Harry shook his head and tried to make the raw ache inside his chest disappear. When it didn’t, when Harry’s chest was stinging and his hands were curled up in fists inside his jacket pocket, Harry knew he was going crack in half.

Sirius left, Remus left.

Even Fred left when Harry couldn’t give him what he wanted.

Harry should have kept his mouth shut to Remus. Remus made it so easy to talk to him; he acted as if Harry’s problems were controllable, things that could be fixed.

Then he left.

Perhaps Harry should be grateful he left as he did. At least there was no fight between them, as there had been between Harry and Sirius when he left. Remus didn’t make a production of it, he just recognized that there was something deeply wrong with Harry and he left before Harry could ruin him - like Sirius - or hurt him - like Fred.

‘I thought Miss Tonks told you’.

When they reached the house that Harry lived in - was it even a home if the people Harry cared about kept leaving? - Harry debated on asking Mandy to stay with her brother for the night. It was tempting, but there was still Hermione who wouldn’t leave even if Harry begged.

So Harry instead just walked through the front door, grabbed two bottles of liquor and a pack of someone’s cigarettes off the top of the refrigerator, and breezed out the back door.

Harry wanted to get drunk, scream, cry, maybe hit something until it shattered. He wouldn’t do that in front of Mandy, so he pulled a SiriusRemusFredHarry and left.

Lip stuck around his place as long as he could without actually screaming and then he grabbed a bottle from under Fi’s bed, a pack of cigarettes from under his bed, and went for a walk.

It had been a really fucked day.

The original guardianship for Liam was thrown out immediately, Frank’s addiction working against Fiona in a court of law for the first time. Frank said he didn’t remember signing the papers, the judge tossed them.

Lip thought that was going to be that. If the guardianship was dissolved, then Fiona didn’t have much of a case.

Lip, Ian, and Debbie each made a plea on Fiona’s behalf. Lip told the judge that Monica would sell Liam for crack the second her bipolar ass thought about it. Ian told the judge that Fiona was the best parent that any kid could ask for. Debbie cried, but she also told the judge that she didn’t want to lose her baby brother.

Fiona talked a lot with her hand squeezing her girlfriend’s under the table (Lip didn’t think that a wig gave Tonks a law degree, but it wasn’t like could afford a lawyer anyway). Fiona told the judge about her shitty childhood that was cut short so she could raise five kids that weren’t hers. Fiona begged the judge to not take her brother, her baby in all but blood.

The judge looked sympathetic, but Lip didn’t think he was going to give Fiona custody like she was asking. Not until Monica took her turn pleading her case.

And Jesus fuck what a mess.

Monica opened her mouth and told the judge that she wanted Liam because she was lonely. Lip and Ian had exchanged a Quick Look with their heads ducked- that wasn’t exactly a motherly thing to say, even if Lip suspected it was true.

Monica just kept going to. Every question she was asked, she answered in such fucked up ways that Lip thought she must have changed her mind before walking in court. The judge even asked her why she left her kids behind with someone she said was abusive and an addict and, for as long as Lip lived, he would never forget what she said.

“I didn’t want them.”

Right in front of all six of her kids, Monica Gallagher told a court of law that she didn’t want them.

There was something to be said for occasionally making exceptions to the perjury laws because… fuck.

Debbie had whispered Monica’s name, received no answer, and burst in tears. Fiona had sent Monica the dirtiest look she could when Carl, fucking psychotic Carl who could burn birds alive for fun without blinking, started making horrible whimpering sobs and hidden his face in Fiona’s side.

Ian went pale, Lip wasn’t surprised.

Call him cynical; but Lip had never deluded himself into thinking that either of his parents wanted him.

After Monica said that, the judge’s face went hard and Lip, Ian, Debbie, Carl, and Liam were quickly under the custody of Fiona Gallagher.

It was a win, supposedly. Lip didn’t think any of his siblings felt like winners though.

Tonks had been making some sort of soup when Lip decided to dip. It was too much, seeing Fiona get herself tied down for the next seventeen years, watching Ian lock himself in the basement to process all the shit Monica said. Lip just wanted to get drunk, maybe break something, and breathe.

It was cold as fuck out, but that was just incentive to drink hard and fast. Lip let his feet guide him while he drank from the bottle of Captain. It wasn’t late yet so Lip tried to navigate through the busier part of their neighborhood.

It didn’t usually take Lip more than a dozen words to get a fight started and he was itching for one.

There were a few guys Fiona’s age hanging outside Flaherty’s Pub and Lip could tell the place was full just from the way noise spilled out the door every time someone went in or out from smoking.

Lip could go inside and have the fight he needed, but that meant giving up the booze he already had. So Lip just chilled outside, figured that someone would show up eventually that Lip could start shit with.

It took one cigarette before someone showed up, the last person that Lip wanted to take his anger out on.

Lip had just been finishing off his cigarette and debating how many hits he could get in Jackass One’s face before his buddy, Jackass Two, jumped in. Two was smaller than One, but two on one didn’t have good odds on Lip getting to continue his destruction after the fight ended. When Lip decided it didn’t matter, the urge to fuck someone up worse than Lip was fucked up became too much, Harry showed up.

And Lip didn’t like what it said about him that he could recognize Harry’s figure from two blocks away, in the dark, after downing at least five shots of his Captain.

Harry had his own bottle as he swaggered down the sidewalk, somehow looking taller than usual in the leather jacket that Lip doubted he’d ever really fill out. Lip didn’t move from where he stood when he saw Harry’s eyes zero in on Jackass One and Two, he wanted to see what was about to happen.

It was like a science experiment. Lip’s hypothesis? Harry looked as pissed off as Lip felt and he was going to start a fight of his own.

The two of them hadn’t talked much after the last fight they had, but Lip figured neighbor took priority over whatever fucked up shit they had going on. Lip took another drink, carefully sat his bottle on the ground so it didn’t get broken, lit a cigarette for a few hits of nicotine, and waited to jump in a fight.

A fight that didn’t happen.

Harry’s dumb ass walked right up to the smaller of the two dudes, the jackass wearing a tshirt in fucking December, and smiled at him with the drunkest smile Lip had ever seen on his face.

“Hi,” Harry said, slurring the single syllable. Jackass Two only looked surprised for a second before he checked Harry out - obvious as fuck about it. Then he smiled and Lip knew he should have knocked his teeth out sooner.

“Hey,” Jackass Two said, his hand moving to Harry’s hip un-fucking-invited. The dude had an oily voice, something greasy about him in general from his black hair to his fancy ass oiled loafers.

“You live nearby?” Harry asked, his eyes unfocused while He fucking hung on the jerk.

Lip hissed when he fisted his right hand and burned himself with the cigarette he forgot he held. Nobody noticed, not when Jackass Two was smirking, Harry was flirting, and Jackass One slipped back in the bar.

“You’re forward,” Two said, flipping his cigarette away so he could put both his greasy hands on Harry.

“Is that a problem?” Harry asked.

“Not at all, babe.” Two jerked his head toward a piece of shit Honda. “We don’t have to go far.”

Yeah, fuck that.

“Hey, asshole.” Lip stepped up, making himself noticed. Lip didn’t even look at Harry when he shoved the guy in the chest so that Harry and him weren’t fucking touching.

“Fifteen’ll get you fifteen,” Lip sneered before he pulled his fist back and finally got the fight he’d been looking for.

“I don’t understand you.”

Lip snorted and passed Harry his drink.

“Don’t bother trying, it’ll make you fucking crazy,” Lip warned him.

Lip and Harry sat up on an old overpass with their legs dangling and faces equally busted. Lip had a split lip, Harry had a black eye. Lip had gotten two good hits in before the dude hit him back, then Harry jumped in a fight he wasn’t invited to and they ended up beating the shit out of the guy.

Maybe he should check for a fucking ID before trying to take drunk guys home. Judging by the way Lip felt his rib crack under his foot, Lip thought he might start doing that.

Lip didn’t get to continue the streak of fights he had been looking for, but trading it for getting shit faced with Harry wasn’t a bad swap.

“I wish you didn’t do that,” Harry said when he returned the booze and took the lit cigarette from Lip’s hand.

“Yeah?” Lip curled his lip and knew he was halfway to too drunk to walk home when he couldn’t feel the cut at all, everything was just numb. “You wanted to get fucked by some grown ass man in the backseat of his mom’s car?”

“You gonna hit me if I say yeah?”

Lip thought about it.

“Nah.” Lip leaned over to take his cigarette back and he couldn’t even feel his fucking fingers while he clumsily inhaled. “That’s fucked up though,” he said after he exhaled.

“I know.” Harry’s legs were dangling over the ledge and the thought didn’t make Lip nervous until he clocked Harry’s flat tone. There was a rail in front of them, one that they were both leaning against for stability. It had a gap though, one that a person could fit through.

“I think I’m fucked up,” Harry said. “Or all I do is fuck up. Maybe all I do is fuck up because I’m fucked up.” Harry turned his head to look at Lip and Lip wasn’t even sober enough to cringe at the way his eyes shined with moisture. “You don’t like me, what do you think?”

“I think I don’t hate you,” Lip said truthfully. He flicked the cigarette butt over the rail and snuck his hand over to clench Harry’s jacket. If Harry decided to take a nose dive to oblivion, Lip thought he had a decent chance of holding him in place.

Harry laughed, drunk as fuck and sounding like it.

“I don’t tend to punch my friends,” he pointed out.

“And I’ve never had a friend I didn’t hit at least once,” Lip countered. He quirked his lips up in a sarcastic smile. “I win the fuck up Olympics.”

“No way!” Harry cried, too fucking loud, too fucking drunk. Harry leaned over closer to Lip, their shoulders bumping beneath their jackets. “I’ve got - got a gold medal in fucking up.” Harry’s head nodded in agreement with himself and Lip laughed at him.

“Dude, I left my house to get drunk and pick fights,” Lip admitted to Harry. “I win.”

“I left my house to get drunk and I wanted to fight, then I thought I’d have a shag instead,” Harry countered stubbornly. “I win.”

“My sister won custody of me today.”

“My doctor gave me the number to a suicide hotline.”

“Use it.” Lip took a drink with his left hand and passed the bottle over when Harry made a childish grabby motion for it. Lip had to watch him, watch for any signs he was about to take a dive, and it was a drunken itch in his brain that kept saying Harry was fucking pretty.

Even drunk, one eye blackened, and looking broken as fuck… Harry was pretty. Not pretty like Karen used to be before she went gothic-chic, but pretty like… like a dude with messy black hair, soft red lips, and glassy green eyes.

God. Lip really did win the fuck up olympics.

“Remus left,” Harry said, somber and not at all sober. Lip raised his eyebrows and Harry looked down through the holes of the guardrail. “He’s gone. Sirius is gone. ‘S my fault. I’ll be lucky if Mandy doesn’t take our baby and run… run far away… leave me before I ruin them.”

Fuck. Lip didn’t know that Remus dipped.

“What a bitch,” Lip said aloud, meaning Remus. When Harry only shrugged his shoulders sadly, Lip sighed. “Monica, my mom, told a courtroom full of people today that she didn’t want her kids. Us. Me.”

And even if Lip couldn’t feel his face, couldn’t feel his fingers, he could feel that. It fucking hurt, hurt in a way that Lip didn’t think Monica could even do. Lip thought he had to give a fuck about someone for them to hurt him, but the joke was on him.

Harry leaned over more, letting his entire body rest on Lip’s. It was cold, Lip didn’t mind the contact.

“Maybe - maybe we can share the gold medal,” Harry slurred.

Lip looked down at Harry for a second, looked at his light purple eyelids that were fluttering closed, his flushed cheeks, the fact that Lip’s stomach hurt when he thought again that Harry was pretty.

Monica didn’t want Lip and Harry was pretty.

It was a fucked up night.

“Yeah.” Lip’s voice quivered some, but Harry would be too drunk to remember it later. “We can share the medal, Harry.”