Comments: Yaysecondhalf! Happy birthday Inyx! (Just for the record, I know it's not actually your birthday. Shh.) Thanks also to freaky and brunette, for bearing with me even though this fic is really really really meaningless. XDD Hope you enjoy? And don't be mean about the end, I was quite dead when I was writing that, I couldn't think of any better. Sigh.

It was a rainy winter day down in Diagon Alley. The day being a working day, not many wizards were shopping there, the few that were staying indoors to avoid the chill.

Alastor Moody stopped in his steps, lifting his rain-repelling cloak hood a little to gaze at the vividly colourful display of icecreams and lollipops spread all over the Florean Fortescue Icecream Parlour showwindow. 'Harlequinn would love to come here,' he had thought absentmindedly, 'perhaps I'll make Lupin take him one of these days.' The boy seemed to adore the werewolf - he'd much rather go with Lupin, I bet, sighed Moody, then wondered why in fact he had sighed.

'Not that I care,' he mumbled rather loudly to himself, making a little girl dart out of his way and cling to her mother's arm.

The Icecream Parlour not only sold icecream but a variety of muggle confectionaries like chocolate, donuts and lollies. Moody found himself remembering somewhat bitterly how Harley treated Remus when he brought lollies home - and then he remembered even more bitterly the look on Harley's face when the ex-auror had said rather hurtful things in the boy's face when he left the house.

Perhaps I was a little harsh, Moody pondered - maybe I should get him something. That was his excuse, anyway. He did not like the idea of spoiling the boy - but a small gift couldn't do any harm, could it?

Moody knocked open the door of the Parlour with his wooden leg, his magical eye darting upwards in alarm as the door chimes jangled rather violently. A few startled customers scattered out of his way - a baby wailed in its mother's arms, and a little boy gave Moody an open-mouthed stare.

'Half a dozen donuts,' he ordered the counter girl, twitching.

She blinked, shook herself out of it and glued a charming smile on her small face.

'What kind, sir? We have a wide range of donuts here at Florean Fortescue starting with charming chocolate, seductive strawberry, riveting raspberry, crazy caramel, cheeky cherry, dazzling dates, sexy cinnamon - '

' - that'll do,' Moody cut her off, irritated.

What was it with people naming donuts strange, idiotic names? Why couldn't he just walk into a shop and buy simple, sugar-donuts like he used to in his days? Gah, the muggly young people these days.

'You mean the sexy cinnamon, sir?' the redheaded counter-girl smiled innocently up at him, charcoal eyes sparkling.

'That. That'll do, I said,' growled Moody curtly, his magical eye darting everywhere.

'Order! Half a dozen sexy cinammon donuts!' she yelled into the baking room opposite the icecream deck.

A few customers shot a strange glance at Moody as he groaned, feeling a vein threatening to pop somewhere in the close vicinity of his his left temple. This is so not worth it, he bit his lip nerously, pulling the cloak hood further down over his stitch-covered face. He payed five Knuts, was given a 'waiting ticket' and was pushed backwards as the other customers rushed forward to order.

After five whole minutes of walking up and down the icecream isle pretending to be intrigued by the variety of liquor icecreams (in order to avoid locking gazes with anyone in the shop), the counter girl called the number on his ticket and yelled over the crowd of customers;

'Sir! Sir, your sexy cinnamon donuts, sir!'

Moody snatched the paper bag from her hands, stuffed it in the rain-cloak's inner pocket and rushed out of the door, making the doorbells jangle loudly again.

'Thankyou for shopping at Florean Fortescue - we hope you enjoyed your stay, please come again!' the girl shouted after him, adding with an cheeky smile, 'Enjoy your sexy cinnamon donuts, sir!'

Moody was already half way down the raining street by then, swearing to whatever God there was that he was never, never going there again and Lupin can take Harley for all he cared because he certainly wasn't, not that he wanted to in the first place, and god he hated rainy days, it made his wooden leg creak even moreso than usual and hell, is that the cell-phone ringing?

Moody hated cell-phones, or mobiles, or whatever people called those annoying little things. But Dumbledore was all for it when Bill Weasely had suggested everyone in the Order having one 'just in case.'

Moody rummaged through his pockets, swearing to himself as he pulled out a small silver thing that played some disgusting beepy noise-song whilst flickering light and vibrating. Moody hated Muggle artefacts in general, but this was certainly one of the most absurd. There were at least twenty minuscule buttons scattered all over it that all looked exactly the same - and whilst trying to hold this trembling thing still, he had to press the right button just to receive a call!

He tried pressing a few buttons in a frenzied rush - no luck - where is the damned button, for Merlin's sake and -

BEEP.

The ringtone, the flickering and the vibrating all stopped neatly, and Moody fumbled hurriedly to hold the phone to his good ear.

'Alastor? Alastor are you there?'

It was Remus Lupin's voice. He sounded very upset like he rarely was - upset, panicked, worried and close to tears, in fact. Moody could also hear Sirius Black's mother shrieking in the background, and Sirius himself swearing at it angrily.

'Yes, it is me - something wrong, Lupin?' Moody spoke carefully and slowly into the little holes at the bottom of the cell-phone, hoping that was how it worked.

'Oh God, Alastor, please, please help - where are you right now? I haven't a clue what to do, I - '

'Relax, Lupin. What happened?'

'. . . Harley's - he's - gone.'

Those three words made Moody drop the phone - he caught it in mid air and pressed it hard against his ear again.

'He is WHAT?'

'He's gone! He - I think, we think, well Sirius thinks he used old Floo Powder - God, I don't know, he could be burnt badly! Sirius's throwing a fit blaming it on himself. Where could Harley possibly have gone, Alastor, I - can't, I can't think - his old home? The Nequams' estate - maybe he went to his parents' - but they wouldn't be - but he couldn't - oh God, Azkaban? Oh, Alastor - '

'I'm in Diagon Alley right now. I'll check Knockturn, you check the Nequams' estate - it'll be in ruins by now but he may have - '

'Okay. Okay, I'll - I'll do! Do - that. Ring, me, ring, please - if - if you find him, ring me, us, okay?'

'Alright,' Moody said, then opened his mouth hurriedly to add he had no idea how to ring people with this thing - but the line went dead and all he could hear were steady 'bleep - bleep - bleep's.

A few deep breaths. Oh God. Harlequinn - gone? Where, why, where, and dear God, where could he possibly be - think, Alastor, think, think . . . .

Alastor Moody needed not think very long. His magical eye found a boy, in the corner of a dark alleyway where they had first met - crouching, sobbing and - oh God.

Moody hobbled as fast as his wooden leg would let him, and knocked the boy over with a stun-spell a few metres before he reached him.

'Harlequinn! What on Merlin's - '

'Fuck off! Please, go away, go - ' Harley choked, waving a knife around himself warningly. His left arm was a mangled mess, blood spattered everywhere and deep gashes showing white bone under his torn flesh.

'Accio knife,' Moody said calmly, and Harley's bloody knife was snatched from the boy's hand. Moody threw the knife into the gutters some ten metres away, and rushed to the boy's side.

'Harlequinn, tell me what happened - why did you do that to yourself, let's get you home, what were you thin - '

'You don't give a flying fuck!' Harley spat, intense, glaring eyes red and wet as he violently shrugged away the hand Moody had put on his trembling shoulder.

'I do, Harlequinn - what makes you think I don't?' Moody stroked Harley's dripping hair, then his ice-cold cheek. He wondered for a moment if in fact he did give a 'flying fuck' because he hadn't the slightest idea what it meant - so he rephrased it, a little uncomfortably after clearing his throat;

'. . . I care about you. We all do.'

There was silence. Rain intensified and spattered ruthlessly upon the two, washing Harley's blood down the drain. Moody took his raincoat off and draped it around the boy's iced shoulders, rubbing them warm as he did so. Harley let out a whimper, trembling - then burst into tears, burying his face in the hem of Moody's sleeve gasping between violent sobs;

'I was so - so cold - it was burning - and I - flew here and - and it was cold - and - and I - tried to - tried, to get rid of it, the - the mark, it burned - and I was so fucking cold - '

'Shhh, it's alright. It's alright now,' Moody knelt beside the boy, gently drawing him inside his travelling cloak whilst muttering a anaesthetic healing charm to wrap around the boy's injured arm.

They sat there in comfortable silence for what seemed like hours - Harley's face buried in the older man's chest, while he whispered comfort to the boy. The warmth they shared was all they needed as the winter day waned. Two times the cell-phone rang but Moody ignored it, quite fed up with trying to figure out buttons.

The rainclouds cleared and the last of the sun's rays made it to the alleyway, sparkling over the drenched concrete like fireflies in summer. They stood up in muted agreement, Moody's raincoat dragging behind Harley as he walked, clinging to the man's arm (this made walking considerably more difficult for Moody due to his wooden leg).

'How'd you - you know I'd be here?' Harley asked, staring up at Moody with those stormy, beguiling eyes.

'Where else would you have been?' Moody smiled, a rare phenomenon which made Harley grin back.

The two walked on in quiet contentment, until Moody cleared his throat and broke the silence.

'Er, Harlequinn, - '

'Harley's fine, you know,' Harley grinned, making Moody shuffle and look away nervously.

'Har-ley,' the older man said at length, rolling the word slowly over his tongue as if to test it out.

'Yeah?' Harley danced along beside the man, looking very happy indeed with his achievement.

'Harley, I - '

'You want to shag me senseless?'

' . . . Er, not quite. I, brought you some se . . . cinnamon donuts,' he cursed the counter-girl under his breath, then continued over Harley's loud squee, 'it's in the inside pocket of my raincoat you're wearing - though I doubt it's still warm. Hand it over and I can heat it up for y - '

A wet mouth closed over Moody's, silencing him from further mumbling - two desperate bedazzled heartbeats later, Harlequinn let go and grinned so broadly that dimples formed at either side of his tear-streaked cheeks;

'Thankyoooooou! I love you too, Perv-eye!'

Harley winked and ran ahead, waltzing his donuts bag around the Diagon Alley streets, singing loudly his undying love for cinnamon donuts and "Perv-eye Moody, whose wonky leg and funky eye are waaaaay sexier than all cinnamon donuts in the world put together!"

Moody wondered seriously if a practiced ex-Auror could in fact die of embarrassment or of nosebleeds.

That night was a quiet one, down in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Molly was quiet, Tonks wasn't smiling, Kingsley hadn't eaten a thing, Remus was restless, and Sirius was brooding. Everyone sat around the long kitchen table, the only sound in the room being the tick-tock, tick-tock of the old magically-wound pendulum clock on the scrummy kitchen wall.

'That's it, he has taken way too long,' Alastor Moody's low growl breaking the silence at last, as he stood up, irritated.

'Alastor, it's only been half an hour, you should leave him alone for a while,' Tonks pulled him back by the cloak.

'No, it's probably better for Alastor to check on him,' Remus said quietly, raising his head from the newspaper he wasn't quite reading, 'he could have passed out or drowned himself or -'

'Drown himself, in a shower?' incredulous, Sirius barked a cynical laugh, 'Seriously, Remus. I agree with Tonks, he just needs some time alone.'

'For your information, Black, last time he took some "time alone", he tried to slice half his arm off. You would not know of course, you weren't there to stop him. Not that you ever would be out to stop anything.'

'What are you trying to say?' Sirius stood up, glaring at Moody.

Molly sighed loudly, putting her knitting needles down.

'For God's sakes, boys, stop it! This is neither the time nor place for you to fight about this. Sirius, sit down and be good for a while. Alastor, please go and check on Harlequinn.'

'Thankyou, Molly.'

Moody nodded slightly, then walked across the room, his wooden leg creaking loudly all the way.

When Moody reached the bathroom door, his hand stopped at the doorknob. When he said he would check on Harley, he didn't think over the fact that the boy would be in the shower right across the laundry, and most likely naked. He knocked three times. Silence. All he could hear was the ra-ta-tat of the shower water hitting the tiles, and he could smell a little wiff of shampoo from the vapour drifting through the keyhole. He cleared his throat, twice.

'Er, Harlequinn?'

Nothing. Moody was now slightly worried. He called louder this time;

'Harlequinn!'

Nothing, still.

Moody took a deep breath and opened the door - the first thing he saw was the naked, nicely-shaped body of a teenage boy, slumped against the shower-room wall, empty eyes staring up at the shower that was aimed right at his face. Moody's heart skipped a few beats - was he - dead? - he certainly looks - like he - no - he couldn't - please no -

Moody ran to him and into the shower, not even caring about the fact that his clothes were getting drenched.

'HARLEQUINN!'

The boy closed his eyes and sighed.

'Didn't you agree to call me Harley? And shouldn't you be a little more quiet if you've come to take advantage of me in the shower, Perv-eye? I mean the whole house probably knows you're here now,' Harley smiled weakly, and his voice was trembling a little, like he was trying to hide tears.

'What do you think you were doing? I thought you had - for a second there you had me thinking - don't bother, I only came to check on you, I'll - go, now -'

'Don't!' Harley interrupted, voice desperate, 'No, please, don't go.'

'Harley, I cannot stay here, I am going to get - '

'. . . Please?' the boy whispered, the tears now evident in his eyes.

Since when, oh god, did I become such a pathetic doormat? Moody sighed, nodding and sitting down next to the naked boy, letting the cold water soak his clothes, his favourite watch, his wooden leg. He knew he would regret this later, this was madness, he knew it, he just knew it - but he couldn't stop himself. Harley's hand found Moody's, and Moody held down a gulp as the boy's fingers tangled with his. They sat there in silence, water trickling down their bodies.

'I didn't ask for this, you know,' Harley whispered at length, staring at his own arm, 'I didn't ask for any of this. I just said I'll have it because I thought my parents would stop hurting me if I did. Because I thought that maybe I'd be loved, like all the other little boys my age and I - I was, for a brief while. They smiled, Moody, and for that one second of my life it seemed like they really loved me - and all the hurting was so fucking worth it, even when they burnt this into me, even when the deatheaters had me one by one - everything was worth it just for that one, perfect second.'

'Harley . . . .'

'I beg you - please don't take me to the ministry. I'm not a deatheater, well, at least I didn't want to be and you know, I'd rather die if it's going to hurt like this, I'd rather die if they're going to find me and take me away and kill me or torture me or something - I -'

'Harley! Shhhhh. I am not going to take you to the ministry. I am not going to let them hurt you or find you. You are going to stay here.'

'But you said I'm a useless twit -'

'I take that back.'

'But I am, I haven't been anything but trouble to you, I'm probably better off on the streets -'

'Don't say that.'

'I don't deserve all this - '

'Harlequinn! . . . We are going to - . . . I am going to protect you. You don't have to be scared any more, you won't have to hurt ever again. We will go and see Albus Dumbledore as soon as possible, we will ask if there is any way we can get rid of your mark, and meanwhile we will put a charm on it so that you will not have to see it, or feel it burn. There is bad magic in this world, you know that - but there are always the good ones to counter it.'

'You're going to . . . protect me?'

'Yes, Harley. I will not let them have you. The ministry, nor the deatheaters.'

'Mm,' Harley moaned softly, tipping his head on Moody's wet shoulder, and smiling a little.

'You can always have me, though - Alastor,' he purred into Moody's ear, then kissed the edge of Moody's lips as if to invite the older man to a deeper one.

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody twitched. As practised ex-Auror, (infact, the best Auror the Ministry ever had, if he may say so himself), he thought he could endure almost anything at all. Almost anything.

And this, was certainly not one of those things.

So he kissed him, knowing very well that this boy was going to be more trouble than anything he had faced in all his years as an Auror. A different kind of trouble - but in many ways, the best kind.