CHAPTER 2

Harry's back was straight as a steel rod as he shot up in the soft, foreign bed. He relaxed minutely as memories of the seemingly kind-hearted Remy came back from the previous night. Letting his eyes roam, Harry took in his surroundings.

The room was simple, a bed king bed, dresser and wardrobe, and had two doors leading out into the larger living space.

As if he had sent out some psychic signal, a knock sounded at the door.

"Yo' up, cheri?" asked the soft voice through the door.

"Yea," Harry answered, wariness colouring his tone.

"Can I come in?" he continued.

Harry panicked when he realised that he wasn't wearing a shirt or his glamours.

"Uhh…" he responded intelligently.

"I be comin' in, cheri," stated the Cajun, opening the door slowly a moment after and stepping around it. Harry felt claustrophobic – even though the room was spacious – with the two of them in the small space.

As if by magic, Remy pulled the door open and moved to the side to sit on a chair in the corner. Harry could leave if he wanted.

"What do yo' remember?" he asked. Harry shrugged.

"You're name is Remy," he answered dutifully but in a quiet voice, "but it's also Gambit, which I don't understand. You can do some special form of magic, and you seem to care."

Remy nodded.

"Good," he said, "but magic? I be sure to avoid de Voodoo, cheri."

"Voodoo?" Harry suddenly worried. "You're not a wizard, are you?"

"Wizard?"

"Bloody hell," Harry murmured, burying his face in his hands as he continued to mumble. "Well done, Potter, you've gone and broken the Statute now. Wonder how the Ministry will take this one?"

"Cheri?" the thief asked tentatively.

"Yea?" Harry answered tiredly, rubbing his hands down his face.

"Whatcha mumblin' about; yo' ok?"

Harry sighed.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," he muttered, turning to face the mutant head on. His green eyes glittered angrily as he started to speak.

"The Statute is a Wizarding law in place that forbids us from telling muggles – normal people – about magic. I just blew it, and the Ministry – who create and enforce the laws – hate my guts."

"This ain' Voodoo, non?" demanded Remy shakily. He respected the art, but that didn't mean that he had to like it.

"No," Harry looked thoughtful, "I suppose Voodoo would fall into the illegal Black Magic category… If you don't have magic, then how did you do what you did with the card?"

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Did you trick me?" he asked. Remy leaned back, eyes wide at the sudden turn in the teen he had rescued.

"I may be a t'eif, cheri," he said confidently, "but I ain' never trick yo' like tha' jus' ta get yo' ta come ta my home. Yo' was hurt, an' I wan'ed ta help yo'."

Harry sighed, though still on guard, and pulled a small, silvery, braided bracelet from his wrist. It was tightly woven Acromantula silk; a gift from Luna.

"Do it to this, then," he said, holding his hand out. Slowly, so as not to startle him, Remy stood and walked over to him, reaching out and taking the bracelet. With barely a thought, the bracelet glowed his signature purple-red as he charged it with his energy.

The teenager smiled.

"Thank you," he said, taking the bracelet back and sliding it over his left hand, as though Remy had just done something massive for him.

"Yo'r welcome?" Remy asked, unsure how to respond. A small grin shaped Harry's lips.

"How does that work if you don't have magic?" he asked curiously. The mutant's eyebrows pulled down for a moment in thought before he moved towards the bed.

"Can I sit on da bed ta explain, cheri?" he asked. After receiving a nod, he sat on the end corner and crossed his legs like in the alley the night before.

"I be a mutant, cheri," he started. Harry's eyes widened. "I can do what I do because I got a gene in me dat messed me up a li'l bit –" he paused for a moment "- kinda like da magic yo' was talkin' about."

Harry, to his surprise, nodded in understanding.

"That's probably why my Uncle chose New York to drop me off, then," Harry said. Remy's eyes glowed a little at the mention of Harry's uncle.

"Why is dat, cheri?" he murmured lowly, almost growling.

"He was probably hoping some mutant would come along and finish me," Harry answered bitterly, shoulders hunched.

"Would yo' like me ta go an'… give 'im a demonstration o' mutant abilities?"

Harry's eyes widened.

"Why?" he asked, surprised at the anger.

"Because he hurt yo', cheri," was the growled response, "an' I don' tolerate abuse."

Harry's surprised expression slackened into one of what could most closely be described as affection.

"No one's ever been angry on my part before, Remy," he whispered. The anger left the Cajun.

"Not even yo' friends, cheri?" he asked, voice soft. Harry's eyes grew hard.

"Every friend I ever thought I made was merely a tool to get me to sacrifice myself for 'The Greater Good'," he said sharply, voice mocking. Remy was shocked.

"Yo' neva had a true friend?"

"Never," Harry shook his head. Remy growled, causing the teen to jump.

"Sorry, cheri," he apologised, "but dat be makin' me angry. I be willin' ta be yo' friend any day o' da week, cheri."

"No strings attached?" Harry asked, again suspicious. Remy was honestly surprised by the mood swings of the teen, but then – thinking on everything that he'd uncovered so far – decided that, not only was he well within his rights to be unbalanced, but he himself was just as bad.

"Non, cheri," he answered, "no strings attached."

Harry smiled at him.

"Thank you," he whispered again.

"Not a problem, cheri."

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

"What, cheri?"

"That," Harry attempted to mimic it, "sherry…"

Remy smiled at his terrible pronunciation.

"I be from New Orleans," the way he said it made the name of the city seem to slur, "it merely be a term o' endearment. I be tryin' ta stop, if yo' like?"

"No," Harry said quickly, "it's fine!" He wouldn't admit it, but he rather liked it. It made him feel wanted more than any of the meaningless nicknames those traitors had given him. The only true one had been Luna, but they had killed her in the DOM battle and blamed it on the Death Eaters. Harry scowled, expression darkening.

"Harry?" Remy, as an Empath, could feel the sadness and anger rolling off the teen as his expression darkened.

"Just remembering," he answered. The way Remy said 'Harry' sounded almost exactly like when he used that little term of endearment that Harry secretly liked.

Remy knew better than to push; he just sat at the end of the bed and waited. Finally, Harry snapped out of it.

"Where's the kitchen?" he asked suddenly. Remy watched him with a curious eye.

"Why yo' be wantin' ta know dat?" he asked.

"I want to make you breakfast as a thank you for helping me."

"Yo're restin'! Yo' need ta get better, cheri," protested the mutant. Harry looked at him sadly, the dreaded puppy-dog-eyes making an appearance.

"Please, Remy?" he pleaded, "just for today! I want to thank you!"

Remy caved with a sigh.

"Ok, cheri," he conceded, "but only dis once, yo' hear?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry laughed with a salute, climbing out of the bed and quickly pulling his torn baggy shirt over his head as he made his way to the bedroom door. Remy stopped him with a gentle, long-fingered hand.

"Not so fast, cheri," he said, "yo'r not wearin' dem rags no more. I got clothes dat fit yo'."

"You sure?" Harry asked, uncertain. He'd never worn anything other than Hogwarts robes and Dursley hand-me-downs. Remy nodded determinedly, standing up and dragging Harry gently across the hall to his own room.

"Sit on de bed," he commanded. Harry obeyed, watching with mild interest as the wardrobe was opened and some clothes pulled out. They would still be a bit big – as Remy was far bulkier than him due to his malnourishment – but they would fit better than anything he had worn before.

"Thanks," he murmured for what felt like the millionth time that morning as he stripped down to his underwear and changed quickly.

Remy watched, fascinated, as Harry changed right in front of him. With all the scars he could see, and the abuse he knew had been suffered by his new companion, he had expected a strong defence of his privacy. As if sensing his surprise, Harry looked him in the eye and answered the unasked question.

"You've seen," he said, "you already knew. If there were others, I wouldn't be as open."

Remy smiled at the trust already shown in him.

"Now, where's that kitchen!" Harry demanded mockingly. Remy laughed and led the way.