Harry woke up early again to find himself hugging his pillow again except this time he had his teeth around the corner as well. He let go slowly, feeling ridiculous by his own actions. Remembering his glasses this time he grabbed his coffee, mumbling a greeting to his immediate family who promptly waved him off then shuffled back up the stairs to his room.
Drinking his morning cup of ambition he reread the mail he recieved several days ago. Thankfully, his friends were long used to his procrastinated replies. Today he worked up the motivation to answer them, gathering around his infamous courage. Courage that failed him at the music store. For some reason he was afraid to talk to Cyrus. Well not so much afraid as self-concious. If he didn't bite his tongue he'd have been rambling and he wasn't sure which made him look more like a fool. Shaking his head he tried to focus on answering his letters. Unsuccessfully his mind wandered back to the piano man. He wondered if he was working again today, he hoped so he wanted to see him again. Harry sighed what if Cyrus thought he was being creepy?
A knocking on the door jolted him from his reverie. Sighing, he moved over lazily to open it, revealing his aunt standing there with a dainty fist raised to knock again.
"Would you like to go to the store with me Harry?" she asked gently. These days his aunt did anything to get him out of the house. It wasn't healthy for a teenager to be isolated all the time. Especially after all that's happened.
Harry glanced over his shoulder at his letters and sighed. He might as well give up on concentrating now. Nodding, then smiling when his aunt looked pleased he shut his door to give him privacy in order to get ready. Afterall, he wouldn't want to embarass his aunt by looking scruffy. Thinking he just may go to the music store again he was more careful with his appearance. Not that he had many choices and definitely not that he cared much about what Cyrus thought, he just really enjoyed his music. Settling on the white collared button-up from his school uniform and baggy jeans that past the smell test, he brushed his teeth and went downstairs to meet his aunt.
She hummed in approval, "Now if only we could do something about that hair!
Harry smiled coyly, "It's alright Aunt Petunia, your hair isn't really that bad. It'll grow back!" She pursed her lips and whacked him with her blue handbag to which he responded with a grin.
While they perused the aisles in the grocery, Petunia attempted to make conversation. "Have you spoken to your friends yet?" This was exactly what he didn't want to talk about. He forced back another frustrated sigh, the question was asked innocently enough.
"No." he quipped. His aunt frowned a she picked up a can of tomato sauce and placed it in the cart. Neither said anything for the next few minutes.
"I think you should go see them." Petunia spoke out suddenly.
"What?" he stared at her.
Sighing she paused in the middle of the frozen food aisle and scrutinzed her nephew, "Those people obviously love you very much, though God knows why." she teased him goodnaturedly, "I can't imagine how worried they are about you. You can't keep to yourself, they probably need you as much as you need them. You must admit that to youself!"
Harry growled and spun away from her, "Just the other day you said I wasn't obliged to see them and now you're practically forcing me to go!"
Outraged Petunia sputtered, "I'm not forcing you to do anything , boy, I'm just considering it's what's best for you!"
Temper flaring dangerously he rounded on her, "Since when the fuck did you start caring! Feeling guilty now for neglecting me!!" People around them were staring and whispering at his outburst. "Stop fucking staring at me!!" he screamed, the shoppers quickly backed away. "Harry!" his aunt hissed. His face twisted into a horrible, anguished expression and he fled, taking off through the store, everyone gasped scrambling to get out of his way. He was almost to the door when he slipped on wet tile and faceplanted. He was instantly back on his feet and bolting outside.
Cyrus stepped off the train and jogged up the steps to Burlington Avenue. He had been disappointed when his father had been unable to drive him but he hated traffic anyways. He was early for his usual shift at Torque's Music Center and it was definitely NOT because he was hoping a certain green-eyed wizard would be there. Nope, he was always nearly twenty minutes early. If he WAS happy to see him it was because he hadn't been in England long and didn't know that many people. Not any of whom were so easily impressed by his music as Harry was. If only his father would take the time to listen to him play.
So thoroughly immersed in his inner monologue he almost tripped over a figure slumped against one of the buildings a few blocks from the shop. He was about to ignore the incident and move on but something made him look back and when he did his dark eyes widened considerably. "Harry?" he questioned in disbelief. The very same young man he'd been thinking about was gazing sightlessly ahead of him while tears tracks made their way down his bloodied face. Typical of a large city, no one else spared him a second glance.
Brows furrowing with apprehension Cyrus hurried over to his new friend. "Harry?" he called to him again, carefull placing his hands on the smaller wizard's shoulders. His frown deepened when he got no response. Trying one more time he stood back, peturbed. What should he do? His eyes darted up and down the street and he paced in a circle, running a hand through his long hair.
"Ok, come on." Cyrus made his decision. He tugged kindly at Harry's elbow until he stood up straight and let Cyrus lead him away. It wasn't long before he noticed Harry's trembling and how unsteady he was on his feet. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. The sooner you get off the streets the better." The slightly taller man wrapped an arm around him for supported and proceeded as quickly as they could to the shop. Cyrus occasionally spurring him on by saying things like, "If you collapse in front of all these people you'll embarass youself." Or some nonsense in Italian that couldn't have been nice by his tone.
Tori rushed forward as they entered the shop, "What happened? Is he ok?" she gushed.
"Does he look ok!?" Cyrus snarled, "Help me get him to the back room." Tori immediately clammed up and supported Harry from the other side. They lead him through a door behind the left side of the counter and settled him on the couch inside. Tori went about gathering a water bottle from the mini-fridge and a clean rag.
Harry sat dazed, exhaustion and despair flooding his features, drowning the handsome face Cyrus knew lay underneath. Too concerned to think much further he carefully went about moping up the blood on his newly found companions face. Once enough of it was gone he could clearly see that the wizard's nose was broken. His expression darkened further, he had to fix it but Tori was a muggle and he didn't want to scare her with his magic and he certainly wasn't adept enough to perform an Obliviation Spell. Not with any progress anyway.
Thinking rapidly he tried to imagine what his father would do. He blew a frustrated sigh through his nose, his father would be able to do a memory spell, he thought blandly. Then an idea hit him, "Tori! Run down to the store and grab some ice, painkillers and..." he trailed off uncertainly, "something chocolate." He started to pull his wallet out his back pocket but was stopped when Tori placed her hand on his arm, shaking her head.
"Don't worry about it! I got it covered!"
"...you sure?" He narrowed his eyes.
"Yeah, totally! I'll take care of it." She nodded her head eagerly.
"Ok." he mumbled slowly.
"Be back soon!" She took off. He hoped not too soon.
As soon as he heard the shop door close his wand was out. He breathed in and pointed it toward the middle of Harry's face. Suddenly a hand shot out and clamped down on his wrist in a death grip.
"Harry?" he questioned uncertainly, "Your nose is broken, I'm going to fix it ok? Trust me?" Mentally berating himself he bit back a curse, what a stupid thing to say! Of course he wouldn't trust him! They just met!
The hand dropped and Cyrus sighed, "Episky." Now that that was taken care of he worked on clearing away the rest of the blood. He breifly contemplated doing a cleaning spell on Harry's stained white shirt, which looked rather nice on him but decided it would be too suspicious when Tori came back. Blinking he looked back at Harry's face to find the other watching him carefully. Cyrus sat back on his heels in front of him and tilted his head slighty, "What is it?" he asked.
"It's strange."
Cyrus waited patiently for him to elaborate.
"I'm...I'm so used to helping people...saving people. That's what my whole life has really been about." He watched Cyrus reaction but was met with only quiet acceptance as the pianoman listened. He continued on voicing his thoughts.
"It's just kinda strange to actually be on the other side of that."
Cyrus merely snorted, "I didn't save you, Harry. I just fixed your nose. If I had really saved you the reason you got a bloody nose wouldn't be there."
Harry smiled benignly in agreement. What he wanted to tell the pianoman is that he did save him, twice, each time he heard him play piano. Now that would be stalkerish.
"Harry?" Cyrus got his attention, "You don't have to tell me but why exactly was I cleaning blood off your face?"
Any thoughts of answering was interrupted by hurried footsteps and then a small girl bursting into the room holding grocery bags, looking flustered. Cyrus rolled his eyes and muttered something incomprehensible and probably not in English.
A/N: If you're curious about what Cyrus' music sounds like visit the last section of my profile and listen to what inspired me. The songs are listed in order as written. Let me know what you think! Or suggest songs?
Also, you should all thank Clarrolx for this chapter. Not only did she kick my ass to get it over to her, I might not have to been able to post it without her. My computer is down, I'll try to make regular updates frequent but they will be shorter than planned.
