DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

~ Monster ~

"Aunt Petunia..." Harry said quietly as he helped her wrap the bandage around her wrist. "Maybe we should leave."

"No," she answered, shaking her head.

"But, Uncle Vernon-"

"No." She said it more vehemently this time, but without raising her voice.

"But he-"

"It isn't up for discussion, Harry."

The boy looked so world-weary as he gave up this battle that his aunt was hard-pressed to remember he was only thirteen years old.

"You should go to the hospital, at least," he said - even though he knew she would not do that, either. All for the sake of appearances, he believed - or for Dudley's sake and the sake of appearances - because while the young wizard knew that his aunt loved her son, he didn't believe for a minute that she actually loved Vernon Dursley.

That night Harry laid awake in his bed, his mind in turmoil. He didn't know what to do or who to tell. The muggle police were definitely not an option, and telling Dumbledore probably wouldn't do any good since the old man would likely insist that remaining at Privet Drive was the best thing for both of them...

Then he remembered. There was someone he could trust, someone who could help.

Grabbing the flashlight he kept under his pillow for just such occasions, he quickly located a scrap of parchment and a ballpoint pen (no time to mess with a quill and ink bottle) and dashed out a missive, which he then attached to his reluctant owl.

"Sorry, girl, but this is important," he whispered, stroking Hedwig's neck feathers. The window was already open because of the summer heat, so sending the owl off into the night was a simple task.

After reading Harry's latest letter, Sirius was fuming. He had no love for Lily's sister, but neither did he like hearing that her husband had broken her wrist and she refused to do anything about it. Harry cared enough about the woman to want to protect her, and he was trusting his godfather to help them, but Sirius didn't know what the boy thought he could do about the situation... The ministry was still hunting for Sirius so he couldn't very well go showing up in England, much less kidnapping Harry Potter's muggle aunt.

He had to find someone who had more freedom to move...

It was two days after the day Vernon broke her wrist, when Petunia was approached on the street by a strange man.

"Who are you?" she snapped, more annoyed by than afraid of the attentions of this shabby stranger. "What do you want?"

The corners of his mouth lifted in a sad smile.

"You know me, Pet," he said softly. "Do I look so different now that you don't recognize me?"

Something about his voice seemed familiar to her...

"You- you're one of them... James Potter's friends."

His smile gained a bit of warmth at her pronouncement.

He was the quiet one, she remembered. The nice one, the only one of the four who had ever taken a moment to greet her politely when they were hanging around with Lily.

"It's..." She scoured her memory. "... Rembrandt, right?"

He sighed. "It's Remus, actually."

"You're LYING!" Dudley shouted, knocking Harry flat to the living-room floor with a solid two-handed push.

"I'm not lying," Harry ground out through gritted teeth.

Neither teenager noticed the two adults that had entered the room until a quietly authoritative male voice said, "What's going on here, boys?"

Dudley spun around and, ignoring Lupin, demanded, "Mum, tell Harry to stop lying! He said Dad beats you up. He said Dad broke your arm!"

Petunia closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see her son's face when she shattered his entire world.

"It's true," she whispered.

There was a long silence, broken only by occasional scuffling sounds. Harry getting up from the floor, probably, and some things being moved around...

"Right, so... we're going now, then? Before Dad gets home?"

Upon hearing this remark, Petunia finally opened her eyes to find that Dudley was addressing Harry and not her. She also saw that the boys were gathering up a pile of suitcases and Harry's school trunk and owl cage, which she had not previously noticed scattered around the living-room.

"Yeah," Harry said grimly, not looking up from his task.

After all the fleeing, and moving into the safehouse, and unpacking, and explaining was done; after Dumbledore had come and set up the new blood wards, had a few words with Lupin alone, and gone; after the boys had been fed dinner and sent to bed... After all of that, there was one matter left unresolved.

"If I recall correctly, your wrist is broken...?" Lupin put forth hesitantly, as he settled next to Petunia on the couch.

She nodded tersely.

"Would you like me to heal it?"

Wordlessly she held out her arm. Lupin drew his wand, placed the tip against her bandaged wrist, and murmured a spell.

"There, good as new," he said, offering her an encouraging smile.

She unwound the bandage and tentatively flexed her previously-broken arm. There was no pain. It was really healed, with just a simple spell. The old jealousy she felt toward her sister flared up in her chest. Why hadn't she been able to be a part of the magical world? It wasn't fair...

But, she reflected, as she curled into Lupin's side, I made my own choices.

And even if he was a werewolf, her savior was less of a monster than the man she had married.

~end~