Hey, I posted another Insert yesterday, part 2 of Alteration, so if you haven't read that please go back and do so (if you care to follow that story anyway)

Warnings: not-quite-slash, mentioned abuse/neglect, bullying, sequel to First Crush (Insert #4) but I suppose it could be read individually

Disclaimers: Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisuko Hatori and associates of whom I am not one. Harry Potter belongs to JKR, Warner Bros, Scholastic, and tons of other companies I'm sure. But not me.

Featuring: Ickle!Harry, Defender!Takashi, and Grateful!Harry

Sorry to break up Alteration, but this was my original plan for what I wanted to post for Harry's birthday, and there's no better time to do it! I mean, y'know, unless you wanted me to wait another year for it.

Savior

Harry braced himself for the impact to the ground with practiced ease. Really, this was nothing new, and the slight rebound from hitting the play structure was enough for him to prevent his head from getting hit too hard. Even though he was only five years old – as of that same day – Harry knew how to protect himself from undue injury without his attacker realizing that he wasn't doing maximum damage.

It helped that his attacker was Harry's cousin, an obese child with blond hair and watery blue eyes, since Dudley Dursley, also age five, wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. Even though neither boy was in school yet, Harry knew his cousin wasn't smart. Of course, Harry wasn't smart either – no, he was a worthless freak – but he thought he might be smarter than Dudley.

"I told you not to come near me!" Dudley wailed, tears streaming down his fat cheeks. As Harry's birthday "treat" for the year, he was allowed to go to the park with his aunt and cousin. He wasn't allowed to play, just go and watch other children have fun while he listened to his aunt tell the neighbors about her woes raising a trouble child like him, and how she thought he might be autistic or have Hyperactive Attention Deficit Disorder or maybe he was just a crack baby since his whore of a mother had probably been drinking and doing drugs while he was in the womb.

Harry didn't know what a womb was, or what autistic meant, or a lot of what his aunt said really, but he figured it wasn't anything nice.

However, Petunia had left to use the public toilet – "Nasty, dirty thing, but I'll not be walking home in this heat only to walk back" – and told Harry to bring Dudley the sack lunch she had packed for him. Harry had helped, but Petunia had done anything that involved the stove since Harry still couldn't see over the counter. Harry had a sack lunch too, but his only had a sandwich and a banana in it while Dudley was given two sandwiches, a bag of crisps, some cookies, string cheese, and a Mars Bar.

Thus leading to the current situation. Harry had tried to give his cousin the back, but Dudley had a tantrum and knocked him over. All of his food was now scattered on the bark chips surrounding the play area, Harry's head hurt from being pushed into the play structure, and he was going to be in big trouble when his aunt returned from the loo.

"You stupid, you-" Dudley let out an angry yell, and even though Harry could see some other kid's parents coming, they couldn't stop Dudley from kicking Harry in the stomach. The small child, who really didn't look like he could be five and seemed more a street child with his baggy clothes and overall grungy appearance, released a cry of pain but managed to bite back the bile that threatened to rise in retaliation of the blow.

This was normal. He just had to keep quiet and apologize and eventually his aunt would placate Dudley with some promise to go out for ice cream, and Harry would get swatted on the back of his head when they were out of the public, but that was fine. He probably wouldn't get to eat his lunch or dinner either, but considering it was his birthday Harry expected no less.

"Hey kid, get off of -" Harry's hearing of some adult's comment was cut off as he was kicked hard enough for his head to smack against the metal play structure again. It hurt, but he kept his whimper as quiet as possible.

About when he was expecting either another kick or for an adult to start pulling Dudley away, there was a dull "thwack" from somewhere in front of Harry, and he only just dared to open his eyes.

What he saw was truly an illusion, there was no other explanation.

A tall man - a very tall man, almost two meters Harry was sure - was standing over Harry in a very nonchalant stance. All Harry could make out aside from the man's height was that he had spiky hair. The man was facing Harry, but because of the sun over his head and Harry's own degenerating eyesight (Uncle Vernon said he wouldn't get Harry glasses unless it posed a problem at school come fall) his features were obscured.

Behind the man, Harry could see his cousin, and as another dull "thwack" sounded, and Harry realized that his cousin was kicking the man, and he didn't so much as twitch in response! Even Uncle Vernon would wince if Dudley hit him, but this man seemed impervious to the vicious attacks.

Another adult, a large woman (compared to Aunt Petunia, but not Aunt Marge) arrived and pulled Dudley away, already taking him to the lady's washroom where Petunia was still "powdering her nose" whatever that meant. With Dudley gone, the man took a step back from Harry, and the child tried to push himself into a sitting position, ignoring the way that the world swayed and the bark chips made the scraps on his hands hurt worse.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and the man opened his mouth, but another voice than the man's broke through beforehand.

"Sir, are you okay? I saw that kid hitting you -"

The man turned his head to the side, and now Harry could get a better gauge of the shape of his face. High cheek bones, a long nose, a soft face... he was a handsome man, but also very pretty in a manly way. Uncle Vernon probably would have called the man a poof were they to meet and if the man weren't so intimidating-looking.

"I'm fine."

His voice was low and smooth, bearing with it a slight rumble. Harry decided he liked that voice more than the simpering falsetto of his aunt or the deep gravelly tone of his uncle. It sounded friendly, not dangerous.

Harry Potter had never been taught that he should keep away from strangers, and so was not the least bit wary of this man, because he had taken hits from Dudley for Harry and didn't mind even though another adult was concerned about it. Even if he had known to keep away from strangers, Harry would have liked this man.

Harry couldn't see the other adult, but apparently the other adult hadn't seen him either, because when he tried to broach the subject with the tall man, the smooth, low response was, "He hurt this child for more than he could ever harm me." And then another face came into Harry's view, though he could make out no features other than a surprised and vaguely horrified expression.

"Oh! Do I need to call an ambulance? Only he doesn't look too good and -"

"I have a first aid kit, but thank you," the tall man interrupted. Before Harry had even realized the tall man had moved, two arms were wrapped around him and had lifted him from the bark chips, holding him in just the right way so as not to aggravate any of the bruises or scrapes on him.

However, Harry was paying more attention to the man's face. Now that the sun fell on it, Harry could only reaffirm his thought of "handsome and beautiful". He looked like one of the models in one of Aunt Petunia's magazines, with his steely gray eyes, tan skin, and tall stature. Without realizing it, this became Harry's image of a defender - strong, compassionate and self-sacrificing - although the exact appearance of that image would fade over time.

Harry was settled on a bench where a backpack lay in wait. The man opened the smallest pouch and produced a small jar like what lip balm came in. The child watched curiously as the man spread it on the bruises that were yet to form. He had to lift his shirt - the man made a movement that Harry didn't understand before looking confused and asking that the shirt be lifted - so that he stomach could be tended to.

It was as the man was inspecting the back of Harry's head where it had impacted on the play structure that Petunia returned from the lavatory, looking flustered with Dudley being dragged behind her. Her eyes landed on Harry, and for a moment he thought she was going to just walk away and leave him at the park (not a first, certainly) before her eyes fell on the man who was helping Harry. She instantly changed direction with a strange look in her eye and walked with a purpose toward the bench.

"Oh dear, I've told you not to pick fights." The child in question jolted at the sugary-sweet tone of his aunt. That almost made it sound like she didn't think he deserved it or something. "I'm sorry he was a trouble to you, Mr...?"

"Mori," he said swiftly. "Mr Mori."

Somehow, Harry knew he was both lying and telling the truth. Maybe that was part of his name?

"Well, thank you for taking care of my nephew Mr Mori," Petunia went on, completely oblivious to the disgusted look that she was on the receiving end of. Harry couldn't help but wonder why Mori - if that was his name - was looking at his aunt like that, but said nothing. "He's always getting in trouble, and I was quite concerned when I was told that he picked a fight -"

"If your son were not so violent, I doubt Harry would be injured," said Mori, and Harry realized how he knew that look and that tone; it was the same expression his uncle wore while looking at him.

What he didn't realize was that, up to this point, no one had said his name aloud, and therefore Mori shouldn't know it.

"V-violent? My Dinky Diddy-dums?" Petunia stammered, as if the idea was foreign. Well, it must have been. Harry didn't know what "violent" meant, but it obviously didn't mean anything nice about Dudley. "He wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"So he didn't; he hurt a child."

"The boy is always provoking my Dudders," Petunia snapped back with surprising anger. "It's not -"

"Mummy!" Dudley didn't like to not be the center of attention. "He got my lunch everywhere!"

"Oh Duddykins, we'll go out for lunch and I'll buy you whatever you want to eat," Petunia simpered over the child.

"Would one hundred pounds be enough?" Mori's voice broke through. One hundred pounds... even Harry knew that was a ridiculous amount of money to spend on lunch. Of course, Harry had never so much as held a single pound note himself, but he always heard his uncle complain about how the power bill went up three pounds or how Harry cost them at least an additional five pounds a day for food, and a hundred was a big number.

"E-excuse me?" Petunia's jaw was dropped. Apparently one hundred was a really big number.

"I said, would one hundred pounds be enough compensation for the lunch that Harry supposedly scattered?" Harry couldn't see Mori's face anymore, because he was turned fully to Harry's aunt, but the imagination was a wondrous thing. Mr Mori looked like a real savior in Harry's mind, though in reality he mostly looked intimidating.

"I- Yes, of course!"

"Good." Mori's hand slipped into his back pocket and pulled out a slim wallet. A single note was pulled out with a big "100" on it, which Petunia snatched up quickly. "If you'll excuse me, I need to finish making sure that Harry-kun is okay."

While Harry was still wondering what "kun" meant (was he being called a raccoon?), Petunia was already fleeing the park with Dudley in tow. It seemed like it was a "leave Harry somewhere and make him find his own way back" kind of day.

"You got ripped off," the child stated after a moment.

"No I didn't," Mori countered, as if that made him right. Harry pouted. The man was not right. A hundred was a really big number; even though Harry could count that high, Dudley couldn't, and it still took a long time to get that high, so it had to be a lot of money. More than enough to buy all the food that had been in Dudley's lunch - which was still scattered in the bark chips.

"Yeah huh! A hundred is a big number," Harry pouted extra hard to prove his point. His aunt usually hit him if he pouted, but he had learned that strangers thought it was cute.

Mori was no different and smiled a little, "Not to me. A hundred is pocket change."

Harry's eyes widened. Pocket change? Even for Dudley, pocket money didn't go past five pounds, and Dudley always got whatever he wanted. Was this man rich? Maybe he was so rich that he had twenty mansions and ten elephants and owned his own beach!

It wasn't until Mori said, "I do" that Harry realized he said it out loud.

It took about five seconds to process it before Harry's eyes bugged out. "Really? Even the elephants?! But they're huge and their food must cost a lot! I've only seen them in a picture book at Mrs Figg's house, but aren't they really really big?"

The smile grew. "Even the elephants."

All Harry could say to that was, "Wow."

Even as the memories grew fuzzy over the years, Harry would recall his fifth birthday in an abstract way and know it was the best birthday of his life before Hogwarts, and even for some years into his career as a student of magic. Mori - who, the first time Harry called him "Mr Mori" out loud, told him that "Takashi-nii" was better - took Harry to a restaurant for lunch. He'd never been to one before and didn't know what to order, but Takashi ordered him chicken pasta and even bought him a treacle tart for dessert, all of which swiftly became Harry's favorite foods.

After lunch, Takashi took Harry to a different park from the one where he had been with his aunt, and it was around then that Harry realized that his bruises from Dudley never even got to turn purple, and that he didn't hurt at all, like magic (though he would never ever say it aloud unless he wanted to get hit). Harry was encouraged to play with other children, and he met a girl his age there with poofy brown hair and no front teeth.

All the while, Takashi watched from a bench. He had a book in his lap, but whenever Harry looked over at the nice man, he was always looking straight back. Something about that made the child very happy; later he would think it was because the man cared.

If the day had never ended, Harry would have been happy. He spent a good hour just sitting next to Takashi. The man talked to him a lot, though he seemed uncomfortable with it, like he usually didn't talk much. Harry tried to talk too, but he didn't know what to say and was always mispronouncing things, so he kept quiet mostly.

Unfortunately, as all good things must, Harry's time with Takashi ended at five o'clock. Takashi boarded a train with him and took Harry back to Little Whinging without being told where to go, and all the way up to the front door of Number 4, Privet Drive.

Uncle Vernon pulled into the drive just as Takashi was raising his hand to knock on the door, which stopped him mid-action.

Harry was pulled inside by his aunt before his uncle noticed Takashi at the door, and Vernon didn't enter the house for a good ten minutes, looking a bit pale and green when he did so. Takashi followed him in long enough to say good-bye to Harry and apologize for not being able to give him a birthday gift before getting into a stretch limousine that had parked in front of the house and leaving.

The child wanted to run after the car, but he didn't. Even having such a great experience once made him realize that maybe what he was going through wasn't normal, and heknew his world had been changed by two words that had been given to him.

"Have hope."

"How'd it go?" Takashi slammed the car door shut and moved to buckle in.

"Traumatizing," he replied succinctly to his fiancee.

"I wasn't that bad," Harry pouted, lower lip sticking out in a way that they both knew would make Takashi kiss the expression away. The car was already a block down for the mini-snog was over. "So, what was traumatizing?"

"Your aunt hit on me -" Harry gagged on his own spit, horrified at the mental image, "- and you were quiet."

"I suppose you were pretty wordy with me back then," Harry murmured quietly as he leaned against Takashi's side. The older man made a humming sound of acknowledgement, and the younger couldn't hold back a smile. "You used up this week's quota for words to get him to open up, didn't you?"

"Try a month's," this was said in good humor, and there was a small rumble of laughter from Takashi's chest that elicited a chuckle from Harry.

"You poor thing," Harry sighed. "But now you know what's it like to hold a one-ended conversation."

Takashi raised an eyebrow that Harry couldn't possibly see from his position.

"Oh, you're responsive enough, I'm not denying that."

The eyebrow lowered, but then the other raised.

"Not like that! Geez... Keep those thoughts to yourself until after dinner, will you?"

A smirk twitched into place.

"It's my birthday, and what I say goes. You got the same treatment, and our vacation is ending soon, y'know."

Gray eyes rolled heavenward and Harry laughed.

"I said 'til after dinner. Doesn't mean you should give up hope."

The smirk returned, and Harry blushed.

Throughout the entire conversation, Harry hadn't looked up once. But, then, they were getting married a week their time (18 years a one week real time), so perhaps it was expected that the couple could converse so easily.

"Thanks."

Takashi raised an eyebrow again, and Harry's face was red enough to make a Weasley proud.

Because Takashi knew just what buttons to press to make Harry cancel dinner altogether.

Author's Note: Mah, sorry about breaking up the chapters like this... in October or November I'll reorder the chapters to make more sense, okay? But for now it stays as is, interruptions and all, to allow for reviews. :) It'll make things easier on me at least (and I do so love reviews). I've got one more part that I want to write for this... semi-series I guess you could call it. I mean, it's definitely a sequel to First Crush, but... not really? In a way? Er... yeah. Anyway, Alteration Part 3 will be out... sometime in August. I dunno. I still need to think of a good occasion for it. Maybe Aunt Marge getting blown up or something.

Happy Birthday to Harry Potter, age 29 (19 HPatHC timeline, but that doesn't matter), and to Joanne Kathleen Rowling... but I dunno how old she is, nor do I care enough to look it up. So no fic for her ;P All the love goes to Harry!