A/N: I think I might have to stick to a Saturday update schedule, I'm so freaking tired on Fridays I can't get the chapters done. I... cannot think of anything else to say except enjoy the trainwreck that is Harry's life!... so to speak.

They sat quietly then, Harry actually leaning his head against the armrest and drifting off. When he woke up Burt was gone and Kurt was setting up the DVD player, dressed in a grey kilt with black tights and a white turtleneck. Kurt's stylish grey comforter was on Harry's lap and half tucked around him, loose on his left presumably so Kurt could curl up next to him. When Kurt finally turned around, his face lit up to see Harry's eyes open and on him.

"You're awake! Good, I wanted your opinion on movies," Kurt reached for two DVD cases behind him, turning back to shoot Harry a charming smile. "I figure today will be a good movies-and-cuddling day. So classic Disney Cinderella or eye-candy-Ewan Moulin Rouge?"

"Cinderella," Harry decided after a moment's thought, not lifting his head from the arm of the couch. "I feel like a happy ending."

Kurt giggled, "Never say that sentence to Santana, but okay. Good choice."

"Wait, what?" Harry raised his head a little, frowning with worry. "What did I say?"

Kurt ignored him in favour of putting the DVD in and scurrying back to the couch. The taller boy curled up next to Harry, tugging the more-than-willing wizard into his arms and letting him rest his head against his chest. Harry listened to Kurt's heartbeat for a moment, before insisting, "Seriously, though. What did I say? How is wanting a happy ending dirty? I'm so confused."

"You're so cute," Kurt squeezed Harry a little tighter. "And maybe do ask Santana about it. She seems determined to be your personal sex-ed instructor now."

"You just like comforting me after she's traumatised me, sadist," Harry grumbled, snuggling closer and taking a deep breath of Kurt's body-wash and moisturiser. "I still remember how you grinned when I needed a hug after she demonstrating deep-throating on that banana."

"I like hugging you, so sue me," Kurt pinched Harry's side, making the smaller boy jump a little and make a protesting noise. "Now less bitching, more Disney."

"I can't guarantee I'll stay awake," Harry warned him, already yawning as the opening titles began to roll. Kurt ran long fingers through Harry's hair.

"That's fine, sweetie," Kurt assured him softly as the music rose from the television. "You sleep if you need to. I'll tell you how it ends."

The movie was over when Harry woke up, and Kurt was gone. He was curled up on the Hudmel's couch, clutching a pillow to his chest and with Kurt's comforter resting over him. He could hear quiet singing coming from the kitchen, so he carefully folded the blanket and padded over to the voice. Kurt was pouring something into a pan at the stove, and the smell of pancakes wafted over to Harry and made his mouth water. The clock over the bench read 11.15 but although he'd only slept for a few hours Harry felt amazing. If someone could find away to bottle Kurt's presence and sell it as a curative, they'd make millions.

"Good morning again, sleepy head," Kurt greeting the still yawning Harry over his shoulder. "I thought you might be hungry, so I'm making some pancakes. And we don't even have to give ten of them to Finn, since that sucker is at school."

"You sound a little too smug right now," Harry noted dryly, coming up behind Kurt to wrap his arms around the smaller boy's waist and rest his cheek against his shoulder blades. "And I'm actually, starving, yes. I think the last thing I ate was half of your muffin the other morning."

Kurt tutted disapprovingly, turning the pancake over then turning in Harry's arms. He shot the boy a stern look, "You see, that? That's why I worry about you. Not eating for almost 48 hours isn't healthy, honey."

"Well, I slept most of our date day and I was a little busy yesterday," Harry protested, unable to muster up any annoyance at the sight of Kurt's worry. "I mean, yesterday I missed breakfast because I needed to deal with Remus cutting his foot, and lunch because of the jocks, and dinner because Remus had a meltdown in front of Mr Schuester, and I'm trained to go a couple of days without eating anyway. It's no big deal."

There was a pause as Kurt processed Harry's unintentional confession. The wizard winced at Kurt's sad expression and dropped his gaze. Yeah, that'll calm him down, Potter, just remind him about your freakishly damaging past. That'll make everything better! I'm an idiot.

"Well, we're fixing that now," Kurt began slowly, apparently decided to file that information away for later. He nodded briskly, turning back to his cooking and nodding his head at the fridge. "Go and get some fruit out for me, would you Harry? Maybe chop it up if you're a little more co-ordinated now?"

"How did you know about me punching myself?" Harry protested, then cringed. "Oooh, I bet you were talking about getting into the car, weren't you."

"Yes. What did you do?" there was laughter in Kurt's voice as Harry wandered over to the fridge to grab some fruit. Harry sighed.

"I accidentally punched myself in the face when I was getting dressed," he confessed, rolling his eyes at Kurt's failure to stifle his laughter. "I swear, I'm so freaking unco-ordinated when I'm tired. Usually I can do a cartwheel along a beam while avoiding c-gunfire and juggling three weapons, but make me a little sleepy and suddenly I'm one of the three Stooges."

"Aw, sweetie," Kurt giggled, smiling at Harry as he set up with a cutting board and some fruit on the bench next to the stove. "Point out where, I'll kiss it better."

Harry fixed his best pout to his face and pointed to his left cheek bone, and Kurt leaned over and pressed a big kiss to it. Before he could lean back Harry turned his head and caught his lips in a kiss, playfully nipping at Kurt's bottom lip with his teeth before pulling back. Kurt's face was a little flushed, but his smile was wide as he turned back to the pancakes. They worked in relative silence for a view minutes, the only sound the gentle thunk-thunk-thunk of Harry's knife through the fruit and the sizzle of the pan, with the occasion bar hummed by Kurt. Pretty soon they had a feast of pancakes and fruit and obscene amounts of syrup, and they sat at the kitchen table to feed bites to each other. At one point, when Harry was wiping up a line of syrup that had landed on Kurt's cheek rather than in his mouth, he realised that today he had woken to Kurt's voice, slept in his arms, and made breakfast with him. Even though the circumstances were less than ideal it still felt somehow domestic, and that concept suddenly sounded amazing to Harry.

Whoa, slow down there, Potter, he told himself firmly, even as he playfully licked the syrup off his finger with a wink at the still giggling Kurt. You've been dating for two months this week. It's a bit soon to be thinking about buying curtains. Even though technically you already have bought curtains with him for your room but - I'm getting off track here. It's too soon to be thinking about living together, anyway.

"What are you thinking about?" Kurt asked him, popping a slice of apple into Harry's parted lips. Harry bit off a piece and quickly chewed it, making sure his mouth was clear before responding.

"Curtains," he answered honestly, shrugging at Kurt's raised eyebrow. "It made sense in my head. What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"I don't really care," Kurt shrugged, scooping up his last berry with his fork and offering it to Harry. "There's a Project Runway marathon this afternoon, but that's not until later. Beside, we're always doing things I like. We should do something you want to do."

"I like doing anything you like doing," Harry protested, quickly pulling the berry into his mouth with his teeth and swallowing it. "Really. I might not understand Project Runway or American Top Models or... the other one with the clothes, but your commentary keeps it entertaining for me, and you're there, so what could be better?"

"You have to have some hobbies other than spoiling me and music," Kurt persisted, picking up their plates and walking over to the sink. He waved away Harry's offer of help, quickly stacking the dishwasher with the used plates and pan, before turning back to pin Harry with a thoughtful look. "What did you used to do with Ron and Hermione in your spare time? When you were 14 and 15, for example?"

Harry paused, thinking about it. Kurt seemed to take his hesitation as something else, and he quickly backtracked, "If you can talk about it, that is-"

"Oh, I can," Harry assured him. He smiled a little and shrugged. "Most of it, anyway. I can't talk about the details of the classes or where the school was and stuff, but I can talk about things like that."

I'd love to tell you about Seamus somehow setting himself on fire every week in Charms in third year, or about Draco Malfoy: Amazing Bouncing Ferret, but I really can't. I say again; Fuck you, Statute of Secrecy!

"So what was a day like for you, then?" Kurt asked, his curiosity peeking through his usual hesitance. He sat back down next to Harry, wide eyed and interested, and Harry looked up with a frown, trying to work out what he could say.

"Classes started at 8.30," he began slowly, threading his fingers through Kurt's as he cast his mind back to Hogwarts. "We lived in dorms, separated by houses, age, and gender, so I lived in the... Red House boys dorm with the other boys in my year."

"How many others were there?" Kurt asked, squeezing Harry's hand. Harry smiled a little, thinking of Seamus and Dean and Neville, and how - by some miracle - they had all survived the war. Hell, Neville's almost as big a hero as anyone. Talk about taking a level in badass. I can't believe I ever thought he was a coward.

"There were four other boys in my year, and five girls. Most years were the same, so it wasn't a very big school, student wise," Harry looked down and his and Kurt's interlocked fingers. "Hermione would burst into the boys' dorm at about 8 to wake Ron and get me. She wasn't allowed in there, but it never stopped her. She knew that I wasn't able to wake Ron and he would just stay in bed if she didn't. We'd go to breakfast after Ron got dressed, and usually have to run to class. The whole school had lunch at one, and classes ended at four."

"That's a long day," Kurt commented, raising his other hand to rest his elbow on the table, leaning his chin on his palm to look at Harry contentedly. Harry shrugged.

"It was pretty intense. It wasn't..." he trailed off, thinking of Potions exploding and Charms going wrong and accidentally Transfiguring a desk... "It wasn't like a normal school. All the kids there... you had to be special."

He said the word like a curse, and Kurt ran a soothing finger across the back of his hand. The wizard sighed and relaxed, "After classes we'd usually just hang out. There weren't TVs or computers or even phones... nothing to connect us to the outside world."

"Really? How did people talk to their par - their families?" Kurt corrected himself mid sentence, wincing at his faux-pas. Harry just smiled at him reassuringly.

"Letters, mostly. We got mail every morning during breakfast. Well, some people did. I rarely did. The Dursleys certainly never wrote me, except occasionally on Christmas or to make sure I wasn't coming back for the holidays."

Kurt remained quiet, but his hand tightened on Harry's. Harry continued with a resigned shrug, "We would just spend time together. Ron and I would put off doing our homework for as long as Hermione would let us, then we'd do it all in one big lump. We played chess, we played cards... The three of us started a defence club, too. I can't really say more about that."

We also flew around on broomsticks, played Quidditch and Exploding Snap, and ate copious amounts of enchanted lollies. Can't really talk about that either.

"There was usually something going on, too, some big mystery or attack happening," Harry went on with a shrug. "I usually got dragged into it. I never could leave well enough alone if I thought something was happening."

"My little hero," Kurt smiled affectionately, and Harry cringed.

"Hermione told me I had a saving people thing once," he admitted, looking down at his lap. "I don't - it wasn't about wanting to be the hero. I didn't care about that. I just never really trust anyone else to do it. The adults in my life have been pretty useless thus far."

"I was getting that impression, yes," Kurt agreed dryly, squeezing Harry's hand again. When Harry glanced up Kurt leaned forward to press their lips together in a sweet kiss. When he pulled back there was such warmth in his eyes that Harry could have stared for hours. "Thank you for telling me all that, Harry. I get that there are things you can't tell me, and I respect that, but I want to know you."

"You do," Harry whispered, feeling something bright and happy well in his chest as he looked at his boyfriend. "Really. You might not know about my past but you know me. You know me as much as anyone does."

Kurt kissed him again, soft but definite, and they remained like that for a few long moments. Finally, Kurt pulled away with a happy sigh, "Come on. Let's go back to the couch and cuddle. We'll see if we can't find a TV show that appeals to you, Mr Amish boy."

"I'm not Amish, I'm just deprived. Just not MTV. Ron watched it when he was over here, and the jiggling was... disturbing."

"Are you sure you're not just straight-up gay?"

"...No."

The day was pretty well perfect from that point to when Finn came home. They flicked through TV channels, curled up under Kurt's comforter, cuddling and chuckling at the various shows flicking across the screen. Kurt showed Harry the trashiness of Maury Povich, laughing at the horror on the smaller boy's face as a woman brought in the fourth man for a paternity test for her child, and a re-run of the Hills, which both of them quickly decided was worse than murder. ("It's definitely worse than torture," Harry had cringed, wincing at the outraged shriek of the blonde woman on screen. "Much worse. I can confirm it.")

They sat curled up against one another and talked about nothing. Kurt had made them grilled cheese for lunch and let Harry doze off on his shoulder afterwards, waving off the smaller boy's apology for drooling on his sweater. ("It's wool, Harry. A little saliva will wash right out.")

Both Burt and Carole were going to be at work until after five, so it didn't surprise the two boys when Finn was the first home. Kurt waved at his brother vaguely, eyes glued to Project Runway, and Harry smiled up at the taller boy. The wizard felt a hint of uneasiness creep through the warmth in his bones as Finn dropped his gaze, unable to look Harry in the eye.

"Hey, Harry. I didn't know you were here," the tall boy muttered. Harry shrugged and lowered his gaze, Finn's awkwardness transmitting quite clearly.

"Burt said I could spend the day here, since Kurt didn't have to go to school either," he murmured, tracing a line on the arm of the couch as Kurt finally turned around, looking between Harry and Finn with a frown.

"Something wrong, Frankenteen?" the flamboyant boy snapped, tugging Harry a little closer to his side. Finn jumped a little at his fierce tone, but took a deep breath and spoke.

"Kurt, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a minute? Alone?" Harry stiffened at Finn's surprisingly firm words, and Kurt narrowed his eyes. After a long moment, Kurt nodded once, reluctantly dragging himself away from Harry's side to stand. He pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead as he rose, and Harry tried not to show how anxiety had began to flood in his veins. He watched the step-brothers walk to the kitchen, wrestling with himself.

Did I do something to upset Finn? He's upset at me, there's no question. Maybe it's something else, maybe he's having a problem with Rachel and wanted to tell his brother about it. Maybe there's a problem at school -

Harry had almost convinced himself that he was imagining Finn's coldness towards him and that his talk with Kurt was about something else when the shouting started. The step-brothers' voices cut through the door separating the kitchen and the living room and into Harry's ears, and the wizard sunk down in his seat.

"-sprained Azimio's shoulder, for startling him! That's not a normal reaction, Kurt-" Finn's voice was torn between frantic and furious, and Harry's blood ran cold. Sprained? Fuck, he's a football player, that could ruin his season.

"He is not dangerous, Finn! Or at least he isn't to me. He would never hurt me-" Kurt was all-out enraged, his voice rising shrilly, and Harry flinched. But I am dangerous. I actually injured someone the other day.

"He pushed Mr Schue over afterwards-"

"Well unlike Mr Schue, I know better than to touch a person having an anxiety attack unexpectedly."

"You're not listening to me, Kurt! I like Harry too, I do. But he isn't safe to be around. What if the next person to grab him when he's edgy is you, huh? I don't care that Azimio got hurt either, but it could be one of us next time."

Harry flinched at that, curling up in his seat. His mind flew to the day before yesterday, to feeling the bones in Azimio's arms creak under his hands, strained almost to the point of breaking. Then he pictured Kurt in Azimio's place, wide glasz eyes looking at him fearfully from a pale, frightened face.

I wouldn't do that, he thought to himself firmly as the argument continued. I would never hurt him. Not - not intentionally. But could I do it unintentionally? I didn't mean to hurt Azimio either.

The wizard shut his eyes and put his hands over his ears as his magic reacted to his growing anxiety by heightening his senses. The shouting became so loud it was deafening him, Finn's insistence of the danger he posed and Kurt's loyal rebuttals.

"-could actually break-"

"-would never-"

"-out of the team for god knows how long-"

"-Harry's your friend, Finn! Have a little-"

"-you're not listening to me!"

Harry squeezed his eyes tighter, and curled up in a ball. The words circling in his head (dangerous, monster, murderer) got louder, mixing with the shouts of the step-brothers in the next room. He wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. It felt like pressure was building up behind his eyes, matching the noise inside and outside of him note for note, when suddenly he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up, expecting Kurt or Finn or even Burt or Carole, but it wasn't. It was Remus.

"Harry?" the werewolf looked concerned, and far less grumpy than his morning. Harry looked around in confusion. He wasn't in the Hudmel's living room anymore; he was curled up on Remus' bed in his house.

Oh fuck, I Apparated.

"Shit," Harry swore, forcing his cramping legs down and shuffling over to the side of the bed. "Fuck!"

"What's wrong? When did you get back from Kurt's?" Remus asked, automatically straightening the sheets Harry had rumpled. Harry ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"I just unconsciously Apparated out of Kurt's house," Harry rushed out, scrambling through his pocket's for his phone. Remus' eyes widened.

"Was anyone in the room?" he urged his ward, running around the side of the bed to get to Harry. Harry shook his head, debating whether to call Kurt or not. No, then he'll know something is up. Wait until he calls me, see what he saw.

"He and Finn were in the next room. They would have heard it, but I'm not too loud when I Apparate so maybe they didn't notice," he chewed on his lower lip, looking over his shoulder at Remus when he felt a hand on his arm. The werewolf's eyes were still wide and his face pale, but he seemed more or less in control.

"What happened?" Remus urged him again, more quietly. Harry paused, staring into his eyes for a moment, then sighed.

"They were arguing about whether I was dangerous or not," he admitted quietly, looking down at his phone. Remus sighed a little and carefully patted his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you heard that, Harry," he said sincerely, sounding so much like the Remus who had taken him out of England that tears started prickling in Harry's eyes. "You're not dangerous. Your magic will warn you if you're about to hurt the wrong person. They don't know that."

"I knocked Mr Schuester over the other day," Harry countered, his hand tightening on his phone until the plastic creaked. Remus paused.

"Was he hurt?" the werewolf asked carefully, and Harry shook his head.

"It just knocked him down. He was crouching and I just..." Harry swung his arm out to show what he had done, and Remus nodded.

"You knocked him off balance. That isn't hurting him, that's an accident," the guardian soothed, and Harry leaned into the hand on his shoulder. Remus hesitated again, thinking hard. "When Mr Schuester was over here the other day, with the red-haired woman-"

"Ms Pillsbury," Harry informed him, thinking back to that conversation with a wince. Remus nodded.

"Right. I don't - I don't really remember the conversation that well. Did they want to talk about - that? About you pushing him?"

"No," Harry told him slowly, debating whether he should tell him. Well, he's all right right now, and I should wait for Kurt to call me, so it's probably best to warn him now. "They, ah. Were concerned about my... home situation."

Remus paused, and Harry looked up at him with a tense expression. Remus looked down at him with a troubled frown, "In what way? They don't think I'm hurting you, do they?"

"No," Harry assured him, not entirely sure that was true. Mr Schuester seems suspicious enough. "They're just worried that - you were high when you answered the phone, Remus, and then yesterday when Mr Schue came over he heard you say that our drugs were restricted... they think that I'm a kid, so, you know, it doesn't look good for a kid to be going home to a stoned guardian. "

"You are a kid," Remus murmured, his frown increasing. Harry just shrugged.

"Maybe, but I'm used to taking care of myself," Harry paused at the stricken look on Remus' face and rushed to reassure him. "Hey, no, I didn't mean it like that. You've been the best guardian I ever had, Moony. You're just - you're having some trouble coping. That's okay, I can handle it. You shouldn't have to worry about me."

If anything, Remus looked even more upset. Harry frowned, frantically trying to work out what he was saying wrong. He knows he's having trouble coping, so he can't be offended by that. Does he not think I can handle it?

Before Harry could find the words, his phone started ringing, Lady Gaga trilling out over the tiny speaker. He glanced at it, noting the picture of Kurt that had sprung onto the screen, and shot Remus an apologetic look as he raised it to his ear, "Hello?"

"Harry, where are you?" Kurt sounded breathless, and Harry could hear sounds in the background that made it sound like Kurt was outside. Harry sighed.

"I'm - walking home, Kurt," he lied, sharing a calculating glance with Remus. "I could hear you and Finn fighting and it sounded like you could use privacy, so..."

"When did you leave? I can't see you on the street," Kurt demanded, sounding a little confused. Harry winced, wishing he knew if Kurt had heard him Apparate or not. He thought quickly.

"About five minutes ago, I think?" he guessed, trying to calculate where he would be if he'd walked for five minutes from Kurt's place. Near the park, maybe? Maybe if I was running... pretty close to Tina's house, I think. Here's to hoping he doesn't ask.There was a pause, before Kurt's confused voice continued.

"So you didn't slam the door about two minutes ago?"

"No," Harry said honestly, wincing a little. At least they thought it was that and not me shooting myself or something."I've been walking for a while. Why?"

"We just heard something... I'll have to check that nothing is stolen," Kurt muttered, then went on. "I'm sorry you heard us fighting, Harry, but you didn't have to leave."

"I really did," Harry murmured, looking down at his feet. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Remus sit down on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hand, and it distracted him enough that he didn't think before going on, "I could hear what you were saying."

There was a longer pause and Harry rolled his eyes at himself. You are the smoothest man to ever live, Potter. Really. He quickly corrected himself in the horrified silence, "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything, I just have really good hearing."

"Harry, Finn doesn't really think you're dangerous-" Kurt insisted, his voice high and frantic, but Harry just sighed.

"Yeah, he does. And he's half-right. I am dangerous, Kurt, just not to you. I would never, ever hurt you, and if through some accident I did I would never forgive myself."

"I don't believe that. That you're dangerous, I mean," Kurt insisted stubbornly. Harry could almost see the way he would be clenching his jaw, and smiled. Kurt went on more quietly. "You have the skills, but you're not crazy. You're just jumpy. Azimio attacked you and you defended yourself. Was it too far? Sure. But you know that and now you're going to be aware of that. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Thanks, love," Harry sat down on the edge of Remus' bed, glad that his unconscious use of magic hadn't gotten him into too much trouble and that Kurt, at least, still believed in him. Even if I don't really believe in myself."I should go now. Still got a ways to walk."

"I can come and pick you up, you don't have to go," Kurt sounded kind of disappointed, and Harry winced.

"Sorry, Kurt, I really should get back to Remus, and Finn would probably like some space from me right now. I'll see you at school tomorrow, okay?" the wizard looked at his feet at the sigh Kurt failed to repress, and felt burning guilt in his chest as Kurt responded.

"Sure, sweetie. See you then. Get some sleep," the line went dead in Harry's ear, and he lowered the phone with a grimace. He glanced over his shoulder at Remus to find the man staring back at him with conflicted eyes. He tried to smile.

"I can cook a proper dinner, since I'm going to be home," Harry forced a cheery air into his words, getting to his feet with all the energy he could muster. Even though he had had more than enough sleep to make up for the previous day, knowing that his friends were frightened of him and that his magic was beginning to react without his permission was exhausting. Remus nodded slowly.

"If you like," the werewolf looked down at his hands, then up at the clock. "It's nearly four - can we do that soon? I want to be in the basement at five."

"Sure, I'll go start now," Harry assured him, forcing himself not to drag his feet as he left the room. "Come down in about half an hour, yeah?"

He heard the soft affirmative as he closed the door behind him, letting his head and shoulders droop forward as he wandered down the stairs. So my friends think I'm dangerous - they know I'm dangerous - the whole school knows about what I did to Azimio by now, my boyfriend is making friends with a much more attractive and far less fucked up than me gay boy, Remus is a nutcase, Mr Schue and Burt Hummel are meddling, and I'm pretty sure I've developed a tolerance to Calming Draughts. This... has not been my best week ever.

He jumped onto the bench and pulled out his wand, too drained to cook the muggle way, and quickly charmed the ingredients he needed with a spell. It didn't work so well.

Before the wizard knew what was happening, the chicken was being mashed in a bowl instead of the potatoes, the tomatoes were smashing against the door of the oven, and one of the potatoes started eating another.

What.

Harry jumped off the bench and sent another set of charms around. The Scourgify worked on the oven door, but the spell that should have de-animated the potato just made it larger. The pieces of chicken began trying to escape from the bowl, and his attempt to end the charm just seemed to make them angry.

"Uh, Remus?" he called out uncertainly, holding his wand out in front of him. What the fuck just happened? He pointed his wand at the animated potato. "Finite Incantatem."

It froze mid-bite, leaving only a tiny morsel of the other potato in existence. I'm... not going to think about how that worked. He turned to face the bowl of chicken pieces. Quite luckily, they were failing to escape up the sides of the glass bowl, and instead were just hissing at him angrily. Harry raised his wand again.

"Finite Incantatem," he repeated. Again, it only made the pieces writhe more and the hissing to get louder. They seemed to be learning, too, climbing on top of one another to reach the end of the bowl. Oh shit.

"Remus! Little help down here!" Harry shouted up the stairs, helplessly placing a larger bowl over the top of the chicken bowl so they couldn't actually climb out. It would be just my luck for them to escape and start taking over Ohio. How the hell did this even happen?

"Remus? Can you come downstairs, please?" Harry tried again, before shooting the still fighting food one final nervous look and shooting up the stairs. He opened the door to Remus' room without knocking, already talking. "Remus, I accidentally animated dinner somehow-"

Harry cut himself off with a frustrated sigh when he saw Remus asleep on top of his covers, two empty vials on the bed next to him. The teenager stomped over and snatched them up, throwing them into the bin over the other side of the room. He grabbed Remus' shoulder and shook him a little, "Remus, wake up. I need your help."

"Wha'?" Remus mumbled, his eyes half sliding open. Harry went on, still holding his shoulder tightly.

"I need your help. I just accidentally animated stuff and I can't make it stop," Harry tried, growling a little in frustration when Remus tried to fall back asleep. "Remus, please. I don't know what to do."

"Jus' de-animate it," the werewolf muttered, pushing Harry away. Even half asleep he still had super human strength, and Harry had to grab onto his arm to stop himself from falling off the bed. "Finite Incantatatar."

"It's... it's Incantatem, and I've tried that," Harry insisted, shaking his head despairingly as Remus just rolled back over.

"Dun worry about dinner," Remus slurred into the pillow, waving Harry away. "'m not hungry anyway."

"Fine, I won't, but what do I do about-" Harry cut himself off when Remus started snoring into his pillow. The teenager felt frustrated tears stinging behind his eyes and he sat down heavily on the side of Remus' bed. He was debating whether or not to wake the werewolf for one last attempt at advice when he heard glass smashing in the kitchen. Fuck.

He rushed back downstairs. Sure enough, the animated meat was crawling out of the smashed bowl on the tiled floor and crawling all over the kitchen. Harry's wand was in his hand in an instant, and he made one last attempt,

"Finite Magus!"

It was a desperate move, a somewhat dangerous move, nulling all magic within the kitchen. It made a few pictures fall as their Sticking Charms faded, and he'd have to reset the refrigerator, but the chicken pieces slumped to the floor with quiet plops. And now I don't have to worry about my animated dinner taking over Ohio. Rock. I think I can deal with a few bent photo frames.

He quickly cleaned the kitchen the muggle way, not trusting his magic, and went around the house to seal the windows and doors, as he did every full moon. As soon as he was done he dragged himself into the living room to slump on the couch. He hadn't eaten dinner, but decided against cooking anything else; he wasn't really hungry. Also, I may never eat chicken again.

He saw Remus dragging himself down to the basement shortly after, the werewolf bleary eyed but still awake enough to remember to lock the door, if the click Harry could hear was any indication. The basement was set up so that Remus had a comfortable, soundproof place to turn and no muggles could get in, but because Remus had access to Wolfsbane Potion his transformations were fairly untraumatic for both of them. He'd probably sleep through most of the night after the initial painful transformation at dusk, curled up on the soft mattress he and Harry had placed there.

Sleeping through the night sounds like a really good idea right now, Harry yawned and pulled himself up off of the couch. Merlin, I've done nothing but sleep for 24 hours and I still want more. I'm turning into an old man. Still, if I want to go to school tomorrow - which I should before Mr Schuester sends out a search party - I'd better go to bed. At 5 pm.

Harry sighed as he clambered up the stairs. When he got to his room he just pulled off his sweater and kicked off his shoes, scrambling under the sheets half heartedly, still in the soft jeans and t-shirt Kurt had picked out for him so many hours ago. His brain was buzzing uncomfortably, supplying him with an unending cycle of memories, Azimio screaming as his bones creaked under Harry's hand (he's just a stupid boy, he didn't deserve to be hurt), Finn's suspicion and fear as he begged Kurt to be safe (safe from me, safe from the monster who hurts people without meaning to), whispers down the corridors of Hogwarts in his second year when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin mixed up with the whispers from MicKinley (fuck, I'm never going to escape it, am I? Because I'm dangerous, I'm dangerous), Voldermort's eyes turning to blue right before he died (he died with my blade in his chest, died because of me, murderer, murderer) and the wizard was crying before he knew what was happening. Not a lot, just a trickle of tears down the side of his face, and he rolled over to bury his face in his pillow. He reached over to the bedside drawer and pulled out a Calming Draught, swallowing it down and squeezing his eyes shut against the tears pushing against his eyelids. He focused on the feeling of the soft cloth over him, on the silence of the house, on the warmth of his bed; anything to block out the noise in his brain. He latched on to the artificial calm of the Draught, clinging to it and forcing himself to slip into sleep. He knew he'd dream, knew he'd wake up tired, but it was worth it to get away from his thoughts.