A/N: Quality may go down near the end because I got bored of editing. Sorry not sorry.

Sunlight greeted the neighbourhood of Surrey at the crack of dawn. In the house with the gold fixture of Number Four on its door, up on the first floor, a young teen stirred. Sun beams shone through the large window in the bedroom he was in. The paper thin curtains were worthless against the glowing ball of fire in the sky.

While the sun only continued to rise further, a pair of emerald green eyes finally fluttered open. The rays of light tattooed across him through the cracks of the hastily pulled curtains. It lit his face with a greater and greater intensity like nature's alarm clock, signaling the glorious start of a brand new day.

It was with a soft moan on his lips that the emerald eyed teen finally sat up. The warmth that had gathered in his covers overnight slowly dissipated into the cold, open room. He took a deep breath, arms gracefully pulled above his head in a stretch.

"Morning already?" the teen murmured.

With another pop of his back, the teen pulled himself out of his sleeping bag. He moved silently across the carpeted floor until he managed to settle himself by the ledge of the window. He nudged a side of the curtains aside, careful not to rattle the empty birdcage hung in front of it.

There were soft, brilliantly white feathers littered on the cage floor which the teen took to observing. Owl, perhaps, Kurama guessed, drawing from all he remembered in his old life living in the wild outdoors.

He hummed thoughtfully to himself at new piece of information, perhaps just slightly wistful at the lack of iconic black cats and bats. Yes, he really wouldn't mind seeing a bat or two.

Kurama turned outside. The early birds were chirping in the distance. The golden-yellow sun cast its magic on the morning dew, creating a glistening field of lawn in front of every building.

And in the house of number four, the teen with magic finally stirred. Harry sat up quickly in bed, as if honed by instinct, as his hand snapped out to grab his owl-round glasses from the the bedside table.

The redhead by the window watched, only reacting once the other teen's glasses were worn, knowing only then would Harry be able to see him. Kurama cocked his head apologetically in a practiced movement. "Did I wake you, Harry?" Kurama enquired softly, "I apologise."

Harry rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the bright light. He crawled off his warm bed with half a stumble as he made his way clumsily towards the window. "No, you didn't wake me, Shu-Shuuichi. I should be up by now anyways," he mumbled out, fumbling over his cousin's name.

Shuichi smiled and moved aside for Harry. "Most boys your age aren't early risers," Kurama commented.

Harry frowned, "You're my age."

With a shrug and a tilt of the head, Kurama laughed as he answered. "Well, I've always been an exception," the redhead confided cryptically.

Perhaps there was something a little more to his words, but Harry couldn't understand it. He could only take the sentence on face value. "Me too," Harry agreed, after a little while of thought, "I'm a bit different from my friends … but that could be a, uh, cultural thing."

"Really?" Kurama encouraged.

Harry, of course, knew better than to mention anything concerning the oddness that was the wizarding culture, no matter how dearly he might have wanted to. "Yeah," he said instead, "we grew up differently."

Kurama hummed noncommittally.

Harry bit his lip nervously, uncomfortably feeling like he was letting his cousin down by being so vague. "So, uh, I like your hair," he blurted out a second later. Perhaps he was trying to praise the redhead to cheer up the low mood that seemed to envelope the two of them, but the timing was off, and the statement was so abrupt that it was nothing more than an embarrassment. It did, however, make Kurama chuckle from the sheer innocence that was Harry. The awkwardness that were sixteen-year-olds were always a source of amusement.

"Thank you," Kurama said, still chuckling under his breath. "I'm glad you like it. I've been mistaken as a female well enough from it."

Harry's blush was more than telling. Kurama arched an eyebrow at the boy and Harry ducked in response. "Sorry!" he cried out with a giggle. It seemed he did also mistake Kurama when they first met. "But I realised when you spoke!" he added hastily, to show he was somewhat competent at telling genders apart. The amused twinkle in Kurama's eyes, had Harry pressing his flushed face against his hands. "Seriously, can we talk about something else now?" Harry pleaded, mortified.

With politeness ingrained into him, Kurama conceded, letting the poor boy off the hook. "Alright, anything in particular?"

Harry perked up eagerly at the invitation. There were a lot of things the teen wanted to know - there were an endless possibility of things to ask the relative he didn't even know he had, to make up for the years they'd lost apart. "What school did you go to?" Harry began curiously, trying not to let it sound like the start of a long, long interrogation on his part. "And I heard something about a scholarship – that's why you're here?"

Kurama nodded. Even without the expert skills he'd acquired in his time as Youko, he could've easily woven answers to please Harry's questions. Lies were second nature to Kurama, hidden within hints of truths so beautifully that one couldn't tell one from the other. "I am studying in Meiou High, a local highschool in my home neighbourhood," he said smoothly, "I applied to an international studies scholarship programme, and luckily ended up as one of the accepted participants. I vaguely recalled I had relative around here and I must have mentioned it to the advisor because days later he came up to me and told me he'd gotten in contact with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon! While I can't deny I'm embarrassed for intruding into your family before my boarding finally begins, I'm actually quite pleased to finally meet you, Harry."

Harry grinned, feeling warmth at the pit of his stomach at Kurama's honest words. It was great to know he wasn't the only one looking forward to this meeting. "You're not intruding. I'm glad you're here!" As for why Uncle Vernon would like Shuuichi stay despite his intrusion into the house, Harry supposed it was a way to get him to stop messing around with his wizarding equipment. With his cousin here, Harry knew better than to leave things in sight, a fact that Vernon would take full advantage of. Not to mention Shuuichi must be smart in order to receive a full international scholarship – Vernon knew the benefits of establishing and keeping worthy contacts.

Harry didn't like how his cousin was more or less being used by his relatives, but he couldn't really do much about it.

It was then his door rattled as his Aunt knocked furiously on it. "Harry! Get up this instant, Boy! Just because your cousin is here is no reason for you to slack off on your chores! Do you want him to show him how irresponsible you are?" the woman called through the door.

"Err." Harry looked a bit frantic, no doubt humiliated at his aunts words, in front of his cousin no less.

"Are you listening to me, Potter?"

Harry shoved himself off the ledge he was perched on, quickly standing up. "Sorry," muttered the raven-haired boy, glancing at the time in surprise. "I'm in charge of breakfast," he apologised, scurrying off.

With an arched eyebrow, Kurama followed after the boy. There was nothing else to do in the room, after all (except snoop through Harry's thing, of course, the Youko in Shuuichi muttered. But since he still didn't know much about wizards, he'd prefer to put it off in case there was some sort of curse in place. How dull.)

Sometimes, when Kurama was bored, he wished Hiei was here with him, despite how moody and quiet of company the fire demon may be. The fire demon was someone he could talk to as an equal. However, considering he had persuaded Hiei to watch over his family while he was away from Japan, he supposed Harry's company would do. The boy was equal parts awkward and docile, but there was a fire that burned beneath his emerald green eyes. Kurama couldn't wait to see the soul that lied underneath that unassuming demeanor.

Breakfast was a quiet affair.

Kurama sat uncomfortably in front of his Aunt and Uncle as Harry slaved away in front of the stove. All of his attempts to get up to help were rejected by both Harry and the other two. Harry insisted he shouldn't exert himself, being his guest and all, while his Aunt and Uncle demanded him to let Harry finish his chores alone so as to not let Harry become lazy. And so, Kurama had to endure small talk with his Aunt and Uncle.

Dudley, it seemed, was yet to be up yet. Kurama wasn't particularly pleased with the favouritism that seemed to be present in this household (really, Vernon, Harry was the lazy one?), but he knew better manners than to point it out.

Breakfast was over soon, sped by Harry's quick culinary skills. Not soon after, Vernon left for work with a peck on the cheek to his wife, and Harry disappeared off back into his bedroom, claiming he had to finish up his summer homework. Dudley, still, wasn't up yet. This left Petunia and Kurama in the kitchen alone.

Petunia got up to wash the dishes from breakfast. As there was nothing else to do, once again, Kurama offered his assistance. This time it was accepted.

"I appreciate your help," the woman said as she handed off wet dishes for Kurama to dry.

Kurama shot the woman a smile, to which Petunia cringed to, head quickly snapping away from the teen's face. Kurama stared curiously at her. It wasn't the first time the woman had done such things. All throughout breakfast Petunia seemed overly conscious of Kurama's attention. Anytime the redhead spoke politely to her, Petunia seemed unable to handle it and would drop her eyes from his gaze. Kurama supposed he didn't particularly care how the woman treated him, but the curious fox that he was, he couldn't let a mystery lay unsolved.

"Aunt Petunia," Kurama began with all the worry of an uncertain teen, "Have I angered you in some way?" he asked, projecting an expression not many could ignore.

Petunia's eyes widened at the accusation, biting her lip. "Oh- of course not Shuuichi," she said hastily.

Kurama didn't let it drop. "Is that so? I'm relieved. You've just never seemed to want to look at me," the teen added pitifully, quite deliberately.

As Kurama had predicted, the woman wringed her hands uncomfortably. She dropped the last of the dishes back into the soapy sink, pulling off her gloves.

"Aunt Petunia?" Kurama said wonderingly as she slipped back into the chair by the kitchen table.

"I-I apologise," the woman finally said. "It's not you – you just look remarkably similar to someone I know," the woman admitted, unable to help herself confessing to the young teen who was so worried about something that wasn't his fault. That teen could have the whole world eating out of his hands from his looks and personality alone. Petunia supposed she was no different – and the fact that he looked so much like her precious Lily when she was younger (back then when they still loved each other as sisters more than anything else), only made her spill out her thoughts so much easier.

Kurama's head tilted curiously, "Is that so?"

Petunia nodded. "Have … Did your mother ever show you pictures of her brother's wife?" the woman asked.

"That would be Harry's mother? Your sister? Mother might have, but it was ages ago, I'm afraid. I don't quite remember anymore," Kurama lied barefacedly.

Petunia let out a sigh, but didn't move from her chair. "You resemble Lily," she said at last, staring at her family photos as though she expected to see the ghost of her sister's face plastered over one. That lithe and elegant figure and charming smile of Shuuichi's pulled at haunting memories Petunia tried so hard to forget. Was this divine retribution?

Those green eyes of the teen seemed to pierce into her soul. Unlike the one of her charge, Harry, these eyes held depth and wisdom that only the most experienced adults had. The way they looked at her tugged at her heart, wrenching up the feeling of guilt she tried ever so hard to forget.

"Her hair was red like roses, and eyes emerald green. Everyone loved her," Petunia found herself confessing. Her voice was tight and even, like the woman herself was uncertain how she should be feeling, stretched out in all directions. Was she remorseful at the loss of her sister? Angry that she hadn't been a witch as well to experience all those wonderful tales Lily always recounted to the family when she came home every summer? Was she jealous of the love everyone gave Lily, the beautiful child of the family, the one everyone gravitated to, the one everyone loved more than Petunia? Was she scared that this look-a-like was a curse from Lily, trying to torment Petunia because she realised how she was treating Harry? Was she livid at those wretched wizards for ruining her life by mercilessly killing their family for being normal.

Petunia buried her face into her hands.

Kurama let out a soft breath, considering the woman's posture thoughtfully. "I see. You loved your sister dearly, didn't you?" he said. He could see the building of this woman's character. Love turned to jealous turned to hate. But fundamentally, there deep in her, the loved never left, merely wrapped up in a shell of regret that she couldn't shake off. Petunia wanted to deny it, but Kurama only shook his head, "No, you did, no matter what you're trying to tell yourself. I can see it in you."

"That doesn't matter," Petunia finally scoffed, her hard voice her only defense. "You were only bringing up memories I didn't want to remember. That was all. I'm sorry I was rude to you."

Kurama shook his head once more. "That's not true, Aunt Petunia. I believe it wasn't because you 'didn't want to remember', but rather because you 'couldn't bear to remember', scared of how to face yourself and your family once you let yourself realised how you've been acting."

Petunia rose in her chaired, anger rising in her at the teen's baseless accusations. Shuuichi only smiled softly in response. "I only want best for family. Think about it, won't you?" the teen said before Petunia could put a word in. With that, Kurama disappeared back to Harry, leaving the woman alone with her thoughts.

Petunia sank back into the hard wooden chair, body slouching onto the table in defeat. She hated that boy – no, she wanted to hate that boy for the words he was spouting – but she couldn't. Not when deep, deep in her heart she knew he was right.

Petunia got up from her seat once more, heading back to the sink to finish up the dishes. She didn't know how such a young teen was so insightful and wise, but perhaps Lily had a part to Shuuichi's appearance in front of their family. Lily always loved her and wanted the best for her. Maybe her sister was finally tired of Petunia wasting her life away in lies and unnecessary resentment and finally decided to step in. That sure seemed like something precious Lily would do.

The night came surprisingly soon.

Kurama awoke the first second he heard a whimper from his cousin's sleeping form. It wasn't the first night he'd heard Harry crying out in his sleep. The paranoid demon that he was, Kurama was a surprisingly light sleeper, and he woke up easily at any disconcerting sounds. Harry was chock full of nightmares - Kurama had a feeling with all the adventures Harry had against the Dark Lord, the boy's sleep was plagued with fear and death. Kurama didn't like it. Harry was sixteen – just barely older than his step-brother Shuichi - and yet mentally scarred of someone decades older.

Kurama slowly rose from his sleeping bag, quickly shedding off his sleep. Human body or not, Kurama was still a fox demon underneath that exterior, and sleep had always been a rare luxury demons - he had survived with less before.

Kurama leaned in towards his cousin to study the boy's slumbering form. Harry was struggling in his sleep, wrestling for movement under his tangled bed sheets. "Calm down," Kurama murmured soothingly, hoping his voice would subdue the boy.

Harry only cried out instead. "No, no, don't," he seemed to be muttering, tone full of fear.

"Everything's fine," Kurama promised.

But Harry only moaned all the louder, seeing things the redhead couldn't. Somehow things weren't fine with whatever Harry was seeing, if his need to raise his voice was any indication.

The red head slowly lifted a hand, wondering if the comfort of a warm, protective hand would calm the boy down. It didn't. In fact, the moment he touched the boy, Harry lashed out. The raven-haired boy's arm flung out, trying to dislodge the hand. His body jerked, arm pulling back and elbow slamming into the drawer where his owl-round glasses laid.

"Ah," Kurama murmured out loud, belatedly realising his mistake. To a normal child, yes, perhaps a hand would be comforting. But to a child who had known danger and war for his whole life, a hand could mean anything from pain to capture by the enemy.

Kurama quickly retracted his hand, kneeling silently by Harry's side instead. He set his keen eyes on the teen, watching for further behaviour. The teen thrashed in place, arms waving wildly, looking too much like a child frantically trying to find his lost safety blanket. But there was nothing Kurama could give him. Perhaps if Harry's bedroom had any sort of personality, that would make the task so much easier. However, Harry's room was bare to the bones with only the bare essentials - a bed, a table top, a lamp, wardrobe and bed stand. There wasn't even the expected stuffed animals Kurama could try to tuck into Harry's hold.

Apologetically, Kurama could only watch and hope for the best. He spoke softly to Harry, but the teen didn't seem to be able to hear. What he didn't expect was for the kid's hand to sudden crash onto his arm, nor for harry to clamp down on it, weakly trying to hold it in place.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Harry was crying out now, in a voice so pitiful.

Kurama gave a worried glance at Harry, hand rubbing gently over the sleeping child's. "Harry," he murmured, leaning over the kid. "You're having a nightmare, Harry. Calm down." Kurama didn't expect the boy to comprehend what he was saying, in the sleeping state that he was in. Still, he was pleased when Harry did calm, even if it was only a bit. Slowly, but certainly, Harry's eyelid seemed to gradually crack open half an inch. They were dazed and unseeing, still in the world of dreams, but it was a start.

Kurama didn't know how much Harry could actually see, half-blind and half-asleep, but it seemed that colours seemed to pertain to him. Harry suddenly warbled out a "Mum" soft and strained. Kurama supposed, from what Petunia had mention, he looked remarkable similar to Lily Potter. Though, for Harry, without his glasses, it was likely just the resemblance in the blinding red of his hair.

Kurama considered correcting the boy for a second, but he dismissed the idea not a moment later. If his resemblance to Harry's mother was calming the boy, he would use his looks to his advantage.

"Everything is fine, Harry," Kurama soothed over the teen's pitiful slurring of incomprehensible words.

"Fine?" Harry seemed to asked, sounding so doubtful of those very words.

Shuuichi pulled himself closer to the boy. He stroked the teen's head in a calming manner he dimly remembered Shiori doing to himself when he was still a child. "Yes, fine," Kurama agreed. "You've done a great job." Harry's eyes fluttered in response. It might have been his imagination, but Kurama though he saw a loving grin on Harry's face, directed at the one he thought was his mother, before Harry finally relaxed into his touch.

Tension drained from the teen's body as he slumped back into his lumpy mattress. Harry's face pressed strongly against Kurama's hand before a minute later, he seemed fast asleep once more.

Shuuichi gathered Harry's blankets up and laid them evenly on him, tucking Harry in as his own mother had always done. Harry only snuggled in deeper, seemingly able to find comfort in the heat of Shuuichi's body sitting next to him. So, Kurama stayed still, staring off into the distance, letting Harry unconsciously lean in against him like a moth seeking after light.

What was he supposed to do now, Kurama wondered. Whatever he may have originally felt about this mission, the moment he got to know Harry, Kurama felt invested in the boy. Harry was family, despite Shiori's lack of talk about him. It honestly didn't help that the boy was so pitifully haunted that Kurama's big brother side (the side that emerged when he gained his step-brother) couldn't let him go.

Kurama looked down at the bag he'd packed for his journey here, trying to remember if there was anything useful in there - he desperately needed more information on his cousin if he wanted to stop feeling so ignorant and helpless. Kurama hated that feeling, and more so now than ever before.