Disclaimer: Avengers are not mine, nor is Harry Potter.

So this is a story about Harry returning to his relatives house and Loki shows up to comfort him. Please enjoy!

Part 1

It was perfect. It was clean and proper. It had everything in order from the little garden's perfect arrangement and the shutters perfect alignment and the perfect fucking paint job. It was just as he remembered it. It was everything he hated. He loathed it, wanted nothing to do with it, wanted out and to escape so many times, but he was forced into it. Perfect, clean, proper, and a personal hell. That was what Harry saw looking on at Privet Drive. Not a home.

10 years had passed by since his last time living here. Since then he had found a wonderful partner. An immortal partner, for whom he was very glad to have and love. Masters of Death didn't die very quickly like mortals so he was glad to have a partner who could stay with him for as long as possible.

Looking back at what his life was like here, he should've said 'no' to returning once he found out he was a wizard, and that his family hadn't been drunks but heroes. Being Harry Potter he would no doubt have been able to get away from them. Anywhere was better than this place. A gutter in London. A prison. Any place without the Dursley's.

Harry had been part of a war he never wanted anything to do with, but as it was prophesized that it was him alone to save everyone he was trapped at Privet Drive because of the blood wards, and because of his destiny. His destiny, what total crap. He had no break from the hell, only the occasional down-time at Hogwarts that never seemed to last more than a few weeks.

He went to the perfect garden. There were roses, petunias, lilies, and no weeds anywhere. He used to do all of this, make it pretty for his aunt. She usually got praised for it by the neighbors but Harry did all the work. He nearly passed out in the summer heats maintaining her stupid garden. He wondered who they hired to keep it this way; surely she would do any labor like this. Kneeling down, he felt the dirt between his fingers and sighed at the feeling of the soil in his hand. Yes, gardening was tiresome, but it was his favorite chore back then despite the near heat strokes.

He walked closer to the house, noticing a shadow pass by in the window. He cast a notice-me-not on his self and listened in.

"Petunia! Where is that wretched boy?!"

Harry winced, remembering being called that. His uncle's large, angry face telling him about how freaky and stupid and ugly he was. It looked like Dudley got all of his father's anger when he'd left the house.

"I'm here dad."

Dudley still lived at home. Harry sighed.

Vernon's footsteps were heard, and they were loud. "Where's the money I lent you yesterday? I want it back!"

Dudley started to whine. "But dad—"

A loud slap rang through the house. "Don't talk back!"

Harry froze, remembering hearing that same slap, and feeling it. He saw memories of himself being beaten by Vernon; of nearly being killed once by his drunken hands. Dudley usually joined in on the beatings, especially when he got older. Harry never had a chance. If it wasn't for his magic, then Harry would be bruised and scarred far worse than now. Maybe he wouldn't even be alive.

He didn't notice he began to shake until warm arms were around him and he jumped. "It's only me," a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

"Loki." Harry turned in his arms. "What're you doing here? Did you follow me?"

"Yes. When you're secretive I get curious."

Harry laughed into his shirt. "You shouldn't be here," he said, looking up into those blue eyes he adored.

"And neither should you. This place is your past, and it is no longer relevant to you. Why must you cause yourself pain, precious?" Loki caressed Harry's back.

Harry half shrugged. "I just wanted to see them. To see what happened to them."

Harry looked in the window, seeing and hearing Dudley get beaten by Vernon. Dudley was the new punching bag, like he used to be. It was sad because Vernon had made Dudley beat Harry and treat him like crap, and he felt sorry for him. How could he feel sorry for somebody who invented a game called 'Harry hunting'? For someone who broke things and blamed them on Harry, and he got locked in a cupboard for the night?

Loki looked in the window. He bared his teeth, repulsed. "They seem just as disgusting as you described."

Harry smiled sadly. "Yeah," he choked out.

Loki frowned. He pet back Harry's hair and kissed his forehead. "We're going home."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

They looked back in the window to see the smaller shadow being thrown down and then kicked, and left.

Harry never returned to Privet Drive again. Not to see three bodies get carried away 15 years later, and not to see the house burn down in a random fire that no one could figure out how it started. And he didn't ask if Loki burned it, because he didn't need to. It had Loki written all over it. That small smirk on his face when Harry found out about their deaths was enough to know. Was it bad that that made him smile?

That seemed soooo short, huh? Don't fret, there's more coming. Loki/Harry comforting coming up soon ;)

-Eve