Chapter 8

"Come on kid, we're going into town." The voice came from the porch, and followed into the kitchen where Harry was washing his plates. He finished drying, and walked into the outside air. Hub and Garth were standing just beyond the steps, headed towards the truck. Harry followed them.

"We need to get you some proper clothes boy. And some school supplies. We won't be long." Hub stated kindly.

They walked into the first store and soon, Harry was thrown into a dressing room. They had different sizes and colors. The variations of styles amazed Harry; they actually make clothes like this?

Harry was given a shirt by Garth, and he had managed to squeeze into it. Garth was demanding to know how it fit, and forced Harry to come out. Harry saw that the men were both sitting down in pro-offered chairs; Garth was looking attentively while Hub dozed softly beside him. The older man looked at the material, the color, and how it fit on the child. It seemed a bit large, but that would change once they filled him out more. Hub would make sure of it.

"Very good. I think it's a keeper." Harry nodded nervously before ducking into the changing room. Garth was nervous about this boy. Hub had told him about his melt-down and the bruises on his shoulder. He suddenly felt bad about all they had told Severus the day he brought the child. This boy who seemed so delicate; his pale skin contrasting his bright green eyes and deep ebony hair made him unduly exotic. Yet, it seemed he had survived a private hell on Earth. The boy was a fighter.

"Do you have that shirt changed yet, child?" He sounded kind, or he hoped he did. He heard the shuffling of feet and then a strained reply.

"I need help."

Garth stepped forward and pushed open the door, only to find Harry trying to viciously remove his shirt, although it was stuck on his head. His arms were levered about him, and he was thrashing back and forth, trying to rid himself of the garment. Garth chuckled before he could stop himself.

"Stop. I'll help. Now turn around." And Harry did as he was told without thinking. He cringed when he saw Garth's reaction in the mirror. Garth's face was contracted in disbelief. Harry's spine jutted in and out like a thinly clothed mountain range, even though he was standing straight. His ribs protruded at awkward angles, and his malnourished skin was stretched almost to the breaking point.

But what shocked Garth, were the cross hatched lines that littered the youth's skin. He had obviously been whipped. Garth saw the boy cringe before hanging his head in shame. Garth got him out of the shirt, before turning him around. Gripping Harry's chin, He looked him in the eye.

"Listen here young man; you have nothing to be ashamed of. Those scars do not make you special or weak. You are not changed by what has happened to you. You are no longer beaten or starved, but taken care of. No more cringing or being ashamed. I am here to take care of you, and that is what I'll do."

Harry lunged forward, burying the man in a hug.

XxX

Barty put a hand around the pendant at his neck. For the majority of Harry's journey, it had grown warmer. The color had changed with the heat to a harsh pink, and had stayed that way for over twenty minutes. Now, however, it had changed back to the natural silver that it was, and cold as ice. He was with Leander now.

XxX

"So, what have you found?"

Leander laughed at Harry's up front ness. "My dear boy I have only found the obvious. There is much internal strife in England. Everyone wants a piece of Voldemort's promised equality. This will not be easy."

Leander stood in front of the stone wall, his back towards the cold brick. His face was impassive, and his black eyes were thoughtful. His dark hair lay scattered on his head, and he ran a hand through it.

"You look as though you have broken your brain." Harry's dry remark made Leander's eyes come back to life.

"You look like shit. What is wrong?" Leander sat across from Harry, perching on the arm of the sofa. "I can see it in your face. I haven't seen you this troubled in some time."

Harry sighed, "You know me too well." This caused the man to look at him pointedly. "I don't even know what I'm doing here. I should be at home, with my boy. I met my so called godfather. What a fucking joke." Harry's voice was louder now, almost yelling. He rose to his feet and started to pace, and Leander settled back to listen. "Godfather isn't something you stop being. He stopped being there the moment my parents died. What a …ARG!"

Sparks began to float and fly from Harry's hands. His skin seemed to be removed of all blemishes, and irradiated. His eyes seemed to lighten, and he looked almost alien. Leander stood and grabbed Harry's shoulders, and forced the man to look into his eyes. Something in Leanders' eyes flashed, and Harry's anger and grief, his confusion and his sadness, was gone. Harry was left behind, shaking at the raw emotion he had experienced Leander pulled Harry against his chest, cold as ice, the man's cold hands carting through his hair.

"Calm down, Harry. You'll be fine." Harry nodded.

He pulled away, keeping his eyes down. "You know, out of all the years I've lived, I have met a lot of people." Leander gripped Harry's chin, and forced him to look up. "But I will never forget the day I met you. Such a brave spirit, cooped up inside of an extremely conscious child. Sometimes, I cannot help but see that boy in you." Harry had shame on his face, "I never want to look at you and see that gone. It's what makes you loveable."

Harry smiled a bit, and nuzzled his cheek into the hand cupped against his face. "You're the strangest vampire I know."

"Coming from you, the strangest human?"

Harry's smile grew, "Do you think this is odd? That I come to you with my problems? That I rely on you to make it better? That you're so close to me, even though all the prejudice and scrutiny?"

Leander smiled as his thumb stroked over Harry's eyebrow. "You've been relying on me since you were a little boy. I have the feeling that I'm the first grown up man you ever liked. And, maybe, just maybe, you saw me like that too. Looking at all the facts, I don't find it all that strange."

Harry paused, his eyebrows crinkled in thought, "But without the facts?"

Leander grinned, his teeth flashing in the lights, "It's pretty damn odd." He paused to look at the clock on the wall. "I'll get you back home."

This earned a sigh in protest from the youth, "I'm not ten anymore. You don't have to escort me anywhere."

Leander shook his head, "You're back in the hot-bed, child. I'll not let you from my sight until you are back in America." Harry nodded solemnly. He knew there was no point in arguing with him.

"So where are we anyway? This house, I mean." The question caused the older man to smile.

"This is an old house, belonging to my great Aunt Astrid. Since I am one of the last living descendants that wants anything to do with it, well, it's mine." He smiled a toothy smile yet again, his pointy teeth slightly intimidating. He then turned to open the door and walk into the night.

XxX

Remus, by chance, looked out of the window a few hours after Harry's mysterious departure. He saw two figures slowly approaching down the street before stopping in front of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Remus called the others to the window, where they watched undercover, as Harry talked to a hooded figure. The strange man reached out with a pale hand, grasped Harry's shoulder, and then watched as Harry walked up the steps. As soon as Harry was in the house, the man disappeared.

XxX

"Where were you?" Sirius pounced on Harry as soon as the door closed. Harry blinked.

"I was speaking with Leander." He said his answer simply, as though shocked that they all cared.

Remus came forward as Sirius took a step towards the boy. "You gave me a shock, Harry. I was worried." Sirius reached for his godson's shoulder, as if to reassure himself that the boy was real. Harry veered away from the touch, his face contorted with anger and hurt.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me." He hissed firmly at the man before walking up the steps towards the bedrooms.

XxX

Harry couldn't sleep. He hardly slept anymore. He sat in his bed, staring at the door. He knew Barty was asleep. You could hear him snoring through the thin walls. Maybe a drink would help.

He tracked his way through the silent home, coming into the kitchen. Walking through he lit the lamps and began to look for what he needed. But damn, he wasn't supposed to. Not anymore; he had promised Jamie. He had promised Kaitlin.

Harry stood at the sink, bracing himself with firmly placed hands, and just closed his eyes. He tried to remember the way her hair went with the wind, and her eyes sparkled at him. Their 7th anniversary where they ate a well-made dinner by candle light. Her smile as she played with Jamie. Her glowing features while she had little Maria. But though the memories where still there, they were not as clear. They had become tunneled and their details were fuzzy. Her eyes were no longer as vibrant a blue, nor her smile as wide. She had lost something vital.

Her life, he realized grimly. It came to him and he fought not to lose his self-control. He had not promised to be sober under this much duress. There is only so much that a man can take.

Just as he reached for his wand to summon the booze, the light from outside the kitchen came to life, and the door eased open. Harry was face to face with Sirius Black.