(A/N: Sorry! Skyrim came out yesterday. I was distracted. -_-

Note about a few questions people have been asking me: Blaine will NOT try to break up Kurt and Harry. It took him months in-show to work out he liked Kurt, so here he's got no chance. Harry has some insecurity regarding him, but it's all in his messed up little head. XD Kurt and Harry will NOT break up or threaten to break up. It might not be super-sweet all the time (although it will be most of the time) but Kurt will never leave Harry. There WILL be moments of levity and fluff to break up the angst - I can't read pure misery either. And Harry's pretty wry about his problems anyway, so that helps. I'll try not to get so distracted by Saints Row 3 that I forget to update on time next week. '-_-)

The walk to Mr Schuester's car was silent, Harry repeatedly trying to ring through to Remus and getting no answer. The wizard crawled into the back seat, glad to be getting into a car that fit him for once, and sighed as he finally heard his guardian pick up the phone at the other end.

"'ello?"

"Remus, it's Harry," he spoke slowly, allowing the fuzzy voice on the other end to process that before continuing. "Look, I had an anxiety attack at school and one of my teachers and the guidance counsellor are bringing me home-"

"Slow down," Remus slurred, and Harry heard a noise like he was rubbing his face. "'m confused. Where were you?"

"At school, Remus. McKinley High, remember?" Harry's face flushed at the worried look Ms Pillsbury shot him over her shoulder. "You saw me leave this morning."

"Yeah, I - yeah," Remus seemed to sigh, and Harry could hear the home shopping channel in the background. "So you're at school?"

"I'm coming home now, because I had an anxiety attack. Someone startled me," Harry waited a moment for Remus to answer. He didn't. Harry closed his eyes, his headache starting to return. "Remus, you with me?"

"Harry, I think I need a Shake Weight."

"I don't know what that is, but sure. Why not. It can sit in the cupboard with the duck shaped serving platters and the $1600 worth of fake Royal Dalton figurines we both hate," The teenager ignored the confused looks from the others in the car and repeated himself. "Remus. I'm coming home. I'm bringing people with me. Is that okay?"

"People?" Remus seemed to start into the phone, finally catching on. "Oh, you're bringing people here? I should hide the owl."

"Yes, you should. Do that now," Harry listened as Remus started calling for the bird that was apparently in the living room. "Is there anything else you need to do before the guests arrive?"

"I don't think so. Here, birdie, birdie, birdie," Remus muttered into the phone, and Harry cringed. This man taught me a Patronus. He stood between me and a Dementor without hesitation. Remus, what happened to you?"I think there are vials lying around, but muggles see those as pill bottles anyway, don't they? That's not suspicious."

"It is if they're all lying around the house," Harry muttered, trying to hide the sound from the adults in the front seat. Mr Schuester shot him a sharp look in the rear view mirror.

"Harry, he knows we're coming. Maybe you should hang up now," the teacher said pointedly. Harry got the message; the teacher didn't want Harry warning Remus to hide any evidence of mistreatment. Why couldn't my teachers have been this diligent when I was a kid? Harry sighed and nodded.

"Remus? I have to go now. We'll be there in 10 minutes, okay?" he winced when he heard a slight crash and a muttered curse. "Everything all right there?"

"Yeah, I just ran into the coffee table. The owl is in your room, is that okay?"

"That's fine. See you in 10 minutes, all right?"

"Harry, Harry, we need a medicine ball!"

"I'll see you in ten minutes, Remus," Harry sighed and gave up, ending the call. Here's to hoping an Obliviate isn't in my future. If I have to do it, I'll probably get picked up by the American Law Enforcement Wizards. I wonder if the British Government will put in a good word for me?

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Mr Schuester tapping his fingers against the wheel. Harry stared sullenly out the window, pin-pricks of pain stabbing into his eyes and keeping him from dozing off. I'm so damn tired. When was the last time I slept without having a nightmare? Now I have to protect the Statute of Secrecy and somehow not get Remus in trouble at the same time. I just want to sleep.

"Harry," Mr Schuester spoke up from the driver's seat, looking at Harry in the rear-view mirror briefly. "I know this is hard for you, but we just need to make sure you're safe."

"Remus wouldn't hurt me," Harry snapped, then winced. Kind of taking it out on the wrong person here, Potter."Sorry. It's just - he's never hurt me, and he would never hurt me. He's been good to me."

"Being a guardian is about more than just not hurting you, Harry," Ms Pillsbury pointed out, turning in her seat to fix Harry with a surprisingly calm look. "It's about taking care of you and helping you. Protecting you. If this is what he's like all the time then he can't do that."

"I don't need taking care of. I've done that myself since I was two years old," Harry insisted, glaring out the window. He was just tired, so tired that it didn't even occur to him to censor himself. "He has helped and protected me. He got me out of England. He got me away from the Dursleys. He's done more for me than anyone ever has, and doing it hurt him. If he had stayed in England he wouldn't be like this. He's a mess now, because he helped me, so I'm going to help him now. It's fair."

"No, Harry, it isn't," Ms Pillsbury's voice was oddly soothing, and Harry looked over too her involuntarily. "It isn't fair because you're the child. You're meant to be protected and taken care of. It's his job as your guardian to do those things. Being protected and taken care of aren't privileges for you to trade, they're rights that you automatically have as a child."

"They haven't been," Harry shut his eyes again, unable to bear the pity in her big brown eyes. "But we're okay. You don't need to worry about it. He's not hurting me, he doesn't drink or shout or anything, he keeps the house clean. He's a good person."

"We're not doubting that, Harry," Mr Schuester assured the boy as they pulled into his driveway. "We're just worried he might not be a good guardian."

"Maybe not," Harry murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But he's the best I've ever had."

The wizard jumped out of the car as soon as it has stopped. He strode up the driveway and onto the path leading up to the porch, jogging up the last few stairs and making for the front door. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand landed on his shoulder, and it took a moment of real concentration to avoid accidental crushing the wrist attached to it. Mr Schuester was standing right behind him, apparently having run out of the car to follow Harry and make sure he didn't go into the house alone. His car door was still open, the ever-startled Ms Pillsbury walking around to close it, and Harry sighed.

"I just want to let him know you're here. He may have forgotten," the wizard tried to sound soothing, but even to his own ears he sounded weary. Mr Schuester tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder.

"I know, Harry, but I'm going to be honest; I don't trust you not to try and hide evidence of abuse from me," the teacher's voice was firm, and Harry bristled.

"I'm not being abused!" he protested hotly, ripping his shoulder out from underneath Mr Schuester's hand. "Remus has never and would never hurt me. He's unstable, but he's not a danger to other people. Just a little bit to himself."

"That's not much better," the teacher's expression didn't change, and Harry glared up at him, his green eyes glinting behind his hair and his glasses. "You don't need this kind of stress at your age, Harry."

"The only thing stressing me out right now is you," Harry snarled, whirling around to face the door. His magic had begun to pump in his veins, and he felt his temper flaring. "If you hadn't meddled I could be asleep in bed right now instead of - of - this."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Mr Schuester began to sound cautious, clearly hearing the rage building in Harry's voice. "But I have to know that you're safe, Harry. It's my job and my duty as your teacher."

"I appreciate that. I also appreciate that I've had two panic attacks today and it's not even lunch yet. I can barely think straight, my head hurts, and I'm exhausted, and instead of sleeping it off I'm having to defend my family from you," Harry turned around and yanked the door open, trying to blink back the tears in his eyes. I'm too emotional for this, I need to lie down. He strode into the house without waiting for a reaction or to see if he was being followed. He snapped his magical awareness out, trying to locate any current visible enchanted objects, but everything seemed to be either dormant or invisible to muggle eyes. He sighed when he walked into the living room to find Remus starting intently at the shopping channel, an empty vial sitting next to him on the couch. There was another one on the coffee table and another one sitting on the floor in front of the television. They were enchanted to look like typical orange pill bottles to muggles, which was usually a good cover, but right now it did not look good for Harry and Remus. The rest of the house was spotless, as it usually was, but Remus had a thing about picking up the empty Draught vials; if he didn't acknowledge them, he decided, they weren't real.

"Remus," Harry tried. His guardian looked over, his eyes widening when he saw Harry.

"Hello, Harry. Is school over already?" the werewolf smiled dazedly, patting the spot next to him on the couch. "I've bought us an at-home gym. Where do you think we should put it?"

"We'll find a place," Harry sighed, hearing Mr Schuester and Ms Pillsbury come up behind him. "Remus, we spoke on the phone, remember? I had an anxiety attack at school and some teachers brought me home."

Remus squinted at them for a moment, then his eyes went wide, "Right! Right, sorry. Thank you for bringing him home. I don't think I should drive today, and Kurt gave him a lift this morning. It's their two-month-aversary, you know."

Harry grimaces as Remus rambled, staggering to his feet to shake Mr Schuester's hand. He could see the panic in his guardian's eyes as some level of comprehension managed to seep through. He knew he was meant to be remembering something, doing something, but he just couldn't think what. The werewolf looked at his charge desperately, and Harry forced a comforting smile to his face.

"You had an anxiety attack?" Remus confirmed, rubbing his head. At Harry's nod he sighed. "Did you forget your-"

"I took my meds this morning, right after I woke up," Harry interrupted, not trusting Remus not to use the wrong term. He couldn't help the strain in his voice as he went on. "And I've had two attacks today. I'm exhausted."

"You must be," Remus patted him on the shoulder, and started to turn towards the door. "I'll get you some tea."

He froze when he noticed Mr Schuester and Ms Pillsbury still hovering in the doorway, "Oh. I'm sorry. I had forgotten you were there. Who are you again?"

"Remus, I'm Will Schuester, we met at Sectionals, remember?" Mr Schuester's voice was cautious, and Harry scowled at him. He's a grown man and one of the most brilliant wizards currently alive. Stop talking to him like he's a rabid dog. "This is Emma Pillsbury, the school's guidance counsellor."

"Hello," the little red head tried to smile at him, but she was staring wide eyed at the long haired werewolf like she expected him to attack her. Harry was a little less angry about this. She kind of always looks like she expects people to attack her. "We, um. If you have some time, we would like to talk to you about Harry."

"Harry?" Remus looked confused, looking over his shoulder to his ward. "Why do you want to talk about Harry? Did he do something?"

"No, no," the guidance counsellor assured him, stepping out from where she was half-cowering behind Mr Schuester with a nervous smile. "But we have some concerns we would like to raise with you, if we - if we can."

Remus looked at her for a long moment, then another. She was starting to fidget when he finally smiled and muttered, "Your hair looks like Lily's."

"Remus," Harry gently took his elbow, leading him back to the couch to sit down. "They want to talk to us. Are you up to it?"

"Of course," Remus looked at him like he was crazy. "I wouldn't I be, James?"

Harry closed his eyes. He could feel a familiar prickling behind his eyes, and he bit his lip. When he turned back to Mr Schuester and Ms Pillsbury, he had to fight to speak through the lump in his throat, "Please go. He thinks I'm my father. You won't get coherent conversation out of him today."

"Harry, I don't think we should leave you here-" Mr Schuester began. The hint of disgust in his eyes when he looked at Remus tipped Harry over the edge.

"Shut up!" Harry's shout made both educators jump, and Remus cringed back into the seat. Harry felt the frustrated tears jump into his eyes, and he shoved the hair out of his eyes with a jerky hand to glare Mr Schuester viciously. "Just get out of my house! All you're doing is stressing me out more and upsetting Remus, and now I'm going to have to calm him down before I can calm myself down and I'm probably going to panic again and it would have been fine if you'd just left well enough alone!"

"Harry, I just don't think this is a safe environment for you right now-" Mr Schuester tried to calm Harry down, placing himself between the raging teenager and Ms Pillsbury. The sight only made Harry angrier.

"I am safer here than I have ever been anywhere," Harry hissed, taking a step forward. His magic was swirling, but not lashing out because half his rage was directed inwards, at his memories. "Remus has never hit me. He's never flogged me for talking back. He's never locked me up in a cupboard for a week for dropping a plate. He's never told me he wishes I was dead or that I was a freak or that I deserve all the pain I've suffered. He cares about me and cares for me when he can, and right now I've got to take care of him but that's fine, because you know what? It's the best thing I've ever had. Now leave him alone and get out of my house!"

"James, calm down!" Remus cried out, jumping to his feet and clinging to Harry's arm. "Why are you shouting at Lily like that? You might wake Harry."

Harry felt the first few tears slip out of his eyes, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. There were a few seconds of silence as Remus looked between Ms Pillsbury and Harry in confusion, Mr Schuester looked at Harry with abject pity in his eyes, and Ms Pillsbury blinked back tears. Finally, Harry managed to rasp, "Please, just - just leave."

"We'll go," Ms Pillsbury assured him, grabbing Mr Schuester's arm. At the Spanish teacher's protesting look she insisted. "You're not in any physical danger, and it's probably best that we talk about this when we're all a little calmer. But please, Harry, get some sleep, okay? Don't worry about Remus, just look after yourself."

"I look after him," Remus corrected her, apparently back in the right time. "I'm his guardian."

"Yeah," Mr Schuester muttered as Ms Pillsbury started to tug him towards the door. "You are."

Harry just shut his eyes and stood in the centre of the room, tears pouring down his face and sobs catching in his throat. He heard Remus shift behind him, and then the sound of the TV turning up. After a moment, Remus was muttering.

"Harry, I think we should get a food processor. What's a food processor?"

Harry's resolve crumpled, and he just breathed out, "I don't know, Remus. Do what you want. I'm going to bed."

"Good night, Harry."

He dragged his feet the whole way upstairs, barely able to make it to his room before collapsing onto his bed. He jumped a little when something landed on his knee, but a glance through one slitted eyelid revealed the owl Remus had mentioned earlier resting on his knee cap. It was Pharaoh, Hermione's owl, and the only one of their birds to survive the war. Both Hedwig and Pigwidgeon died during the Siege of Hogwarts when the Owlery was set alight, and Harry still felt a little pang of sorrow when he thought about his beloved pet.

"Hey, Pharaoh," Harry held out his hand to be nipped, smiling weakly when Pharaoh hooted in greeting, batted the wizard's palm with his head, and held out its leg so Harry could unhook the letter. The teenager carefully detached the precious cargo, hauling himself upright to get the bird a treat. As the owl helped himself to the water beside Harry's bed, the wizard opened the letter and began to read.

Harry,

Sorry we haven't been able to call for a while, we're insanely busy here. This is just Hermione writing; Ron's fallen asleep in the chair next to me. To be honest, I damn near joined him. If I hadn't drunk my body weight in coffee in the last three hours I would have. I've been working my arse off trying to get these proposals written, but hopefully seeing something presented in their language of bureaucratic-bullshit will prompt the Ministers to change the anti-werewolf legislation. And I'm still working on getting Cultural Studies implemented as a course at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall is eager, but the Board of Directors doesn't understand why their children should learn about Goblin etiquette or Centaur culture. I'm sure you can imagine how little sleep I'm getting right now. I haven't even had time to text Puck! Tell him I'm sorry about that, would you?

Ron's still training 15 hours a day, seven days a week. His exams to reach the next stage of training are in less than a month, so his stress levels are through the roof. Two days ago he shouted at me for using the last of the milk, then spent twenty minutes crying because his socks didn't match. I don't think he's worn socks that matched in his life.

I'm glad things with Kurt are going well, and with Glee club. I'd love to be able to come to your Regionals performance, but I just don't see either of us having enough time. Can you get a recording of it? If you can, we promise to keep it away from Fred and George.

Lots of love,
Hermione and Ron.

PS: Harry, this is Ron. Hermione woke me up before she sent it. Just wanted to add my 'sorry' for being so absent lately. This training is killer! Why do I want to be an Unspeakable again? Bloody mental, I tell you. But just call if you need us, yeah? We always have time for you.

Hermione again. He's right, Harry. We've always got time if you need to talk, no matter how busy we are, okay? Just like you would do for us.

Harry's eyes were a little damp as he lowered the letter. His friend's warm voices echoed in his head as loudly as if they were sitting next to him. He carefully put the letter in the bundle he kept in his desk drawer, grabbing a bit of parchment and a self-inking quill to write back.

For a moment, he thought about telling them. Telling them how out-of-control Remus was, how his Calming Draughts weren't working anymore, how he was anxious all the time. He thought about telling them about the nightmares, the way he woke up feeling as though he'd never slept, about the way his magic had been behaving oddly for weeks. He knew they'd be over in a heartbeat, dropping work and training and commitments to make sure he was all right. He'd do the same for them, of course, but...

Hermione's stressed and overworked, and Ron wants to succeed in his training so much. I can handle this. They don't need to know.

He picked up his quill,

Dear Ron and Hermione,

Everything is fine here. Kurt loved his present, and rehearsals are going well...

Harry kept the letter short and sweet, praying that neither of them noticed how sloppy his handwriting was; he just couldn't make his hand stop shaking. When he was done, Pharaoh was asleep on the end of his bed. I'm with you, Pharaoh. The wizard left the letter in its envelope to be sent the next day, before collapsing onto his bed. He half heartedly kicked off his shoes and rolled over so his face was in the pillow. It wasn't yet noon, but he fell straight into a fitful sleep.

His Uncle is screaming at him, the words reverberating in his ears and his body. He's small, so small, barely more than a baby but his uncle just won't stop screaming. Murderer, monster, dangerous... it won't stop. There's light pouring out of his fingertips and it's tearing his uncle apart. He wants to stop, doesn't want to hurt him, doesn't want to be a murderer but he can't and his uncle is falling to pieces. He wants to run as the house burns down around him, and it's just so loud he can feel it in his bones but he can't, he can only stay and watch and hurt-

The light is fading. The fire is dying out and he feels warmth, not heat, flickering against his arms. A faceless figure with an impression of blue-green eyes is wrapping him in soft warmth, pressing a healing touch to his forehead. Words like a song pour into his ears, senseless in his state but soothing all the same, "It's okay, Harry, you're okay. Just sleep, all right? I'll talk to you tomorrow." The figure is leaving, but it's okay. He left his warmth behind and the house isn't burning anymore. Harry can see the sun and he drifts off into soothing white.

When Harry wakes the next morning there is a blanket over him, and his shoes are by his bed. There's a little note on purple paper next to his head, and Kurt's familiar neat handwriting on it.

'Good morning, handsome,' it read. 'I couldn't get a straight answer out of Mr Schue, so I came by to see you. You were sleeping, though, so I just got Remus out of your bathroom (he was cleaning the mirror) and left. You looked like you were having a bad dream - I hope you slept okay after that! Don't push yourself to come to school today if you don't want to, I'll get all your homework. The stuff from yesterday is on your desk. Text me when you wake up! ~Kurt'

Harry smiled slowly, the stinging in his eyes and the dehydration headache seeming less important than latching on to the warmth blossoming in his chest. He clutched the blanket to him for a moment, leaning back against his pillows and taking a deep breath. There was light streaming through the open curtains, so Harry dragged himself upright and over to his desk. He grabbed his phone with a clumsy hand, sighing in relief when he saw that he wasn't running late. I guess my body clock has synced to the alarm time. Maybe I don't need to buy another clock then? I'll probably only break it too.

Harry forced himself into action, shooting off a quick, "Good morning!" text to Kurt before dragging himself to the bathroom. He showered quickly with his eyes shut, the hot water soothing muscles that he hadn't stretched out yesterday, and he groaned gratefully when the muscle-relaxant potion Hermione had added to his body wash eased his aching. By the time he'd gotten out of the shower and towel dried his hair, Kurt had responded to his text with a cheerful, "Good morning to you, Mr Potter! Are you going to be at school today? :)"

"Sure am. I feel much better. Thank you for tucking me in last night. It helped," Harry texted back, blushing a little when he remembered that he still hadn't dressed. Naked texting feels... awkward, somehow. Time to dress.

He had managed to get on a pair of grey skinny jeans Kurt had all but ordered he buy by the time his boyfriend texted back. He idly reached for a random sweater as he read the message, grinning a little as he did.

"Anytime, sweetie. Don't forget to accessorise! See you later Xx."

Harry laughed a little and dropped his phone on his bed. His grin stayed on his face as he tugged out the navy blue sweater his hand had landed on, pulling it over his still damp hair and smoothing it down. At least it's comfortable. The wizard hummed to himself as he thought about seeing Kurt, meeting the boy in the parking lot or at his locker, taking his hand and walking down the corridors... the smile slipped off his face when a troubling thought occurred to him. Azimio. Everyone is going to know what happened - what I did to Azimio. Fuck, I hope they just assume he's a wimp and I'm not a psychopath. Will Artie still be freaked out? Surely he'll have gotten over it... but he did look frightened. Of me, no less. Harry frowned down at his mostly untouched box of accessories, eventually grabbing a smart leather belt in the same sort of colour as his sweater with a Union Jack buckle, and a grey and blue scarf. There. Accessorised. At least Kurt won't be mad at me today. Even if everyone else is.

Harry rushed through a handful of homework assignments, leaving any he didn't need to have completed that day, before heading down the stairs with his bag on his back. He thought Remus would likely be in bed, but a few noises from the kitchen made him rethink his stance. He wandered over with a sigh. Please just let me get through one morning without playing parent.

Remus was humming under his breath, an empty mug clutched between his hands and an old newspaper open in front of him. There was a pyramid of empty vials on the kitchen bench, and the teenager couldn't help but sigh.

"Good morning, Remus," he muttered as he walked across the kitchen to the refrigerator.

"G'morning, Harry," Remus slurred, smiling vaguely in his direction. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry scowled at the almost empty fridge, willing something edible to appear. Unless I want to make dinner for breakfast, I might be out of luck. Why do we have six chickens but no milk? Orange juice it is."Did you get any sleep?"

There was a long pause, before Remus tentatively asked, "...it's morning?"

"Yes, Remus, it's morning," Harry rested his head against the door of the fridge for a moment, orange juice in hand. Didn't he just wish me good morning?"You didn't sleep, then?"

"I guess not," Remus muttered. Harry shut the fridge door with a foot and turned, already opening the orange juice bottle. He damn near dropped it when he noticed a large pool of drying blood on the floor to his right.

"Uh, Remus?" he eyed it nervously, noting the pieces of broken glass scattered through the puddle, before carefully stepping around it to walk over to his guardian. "Why is the kitchen covered in blood?"

"Hmm?" Remus hummed idly, peering into the bottom of his mug as though searching for more tea. Harry looked him over carefully, finally spotting blood around the cuff of Remus's pants, and a few drops of blood on the ground.

"Remus, you stepped in broken glass, your foot is cut," Harry shook his head, more exasperated than worried, and dragged Remus's chair away from the kitchen table so he could reach his foot. The teenager crouched in front of his guardian and raised the bleeding foot so he could see. There was a deep gash to the sole of his foot, a little glint of glass still peeking out the edge, but it had mostly stopped bleeding. Harry shut his eyes for a moment.

"I'm going to run upstairs and get a salve," he carefully put Remus's foot down, shooting the man a firm look. "Do not wander off, you hear me? There is still glass in there."

"Okay," Remus agreed, slurring but cheerful, and Harry clambered to his feet. He took the stairs two at a time, not trusting Remus to stay put, and headed for the bathroom. He could heal a little cut with magic quite easily, but removing the glass would me more delicate a process. Not to mention disinfecting it. God knows how long he's been walking around on an open wound. The teenager grabbed a disinfectant balm from the bathroom cupboard, as well as a Pain Relieving Potion and some tweezers, before hurrying back downstairs. To his unsurprised exasperation, Remus was no longer sitting at the table. Instead, a little trickle of blood lead out of the kitchen and down the hall, towards the living room. Harry found his guardian struggling to untangle the lead of the vacuum cleaner from around a lamp.

"Remus, sit down," he rolled his eyes, moving all the equipment into one hand so he could tug Remus away with the other. The werewolf made a protesting noise as he was dragged to the couch and forced to sit, struggling as Harry pinned him there with one little hand.

"I need to vacuum," he insisted, fighting his ward's insistent movements. Harry felt a blood vessel in his head twitch.

"You've got a cut on your foot, Remus. Would you let me heal it? Then you can clean the blood off the carpet and vacuum to your heart's content," the teenager assured the man, rolling his eyes as Remus blinked in surprise and looked down at his foot.

"Oh. I have a cut," Remus thought that fact over for a few minutes while Harry picked up the injured foot and reached for the disinfectant balm. "Can you heal that?"

"No problem, just sit still for a minute," Harry squinted as he rubbed the soothing ointment onto Remus's still bleeding foot. He pulled the glass out with the tweezers, scanned the cut for deeper injuries, and healed it with a wave of his wand. It took less than two minutes, but by the end of it Remus was asleep against the side of the couch, snoring a little and drooling onto the seat. Harry just sighed and tried to spell away the last of the blood. The first time, nothing happened.

Harry frowned. That's... not right.

"Scourgify," he tried again, louder this time. The blood slowly disbursed, leaving the area clean, but the wizard was still uneasy. My magic has been a little unstable recently, but it hasn't just not worked before. This isn't right.

A glance over the still sleeping Remus's shoulder showed Harry that he was running late, so he pushed the thought aside to deal with later. Instead, he just arranged Remus so he wouldn't hurt his neck, slipped his wand back into its holster, and rushed back to the kitchen to grab his bag. It wasn't until he was halfway to school that he realised he'd left the orange juice out.