A/N:Holy fishsticks this story is hard work. I am seriously struggling to get any decent work done on it at all. Still, this chapter is a long (and hard) one - wait, that sounded bad. There's an action sequence in it that I'm not totally happy with, it feels really rushed but there's so much else going on I wasn't sure whether I should drag it out. Hopefully the rest of the chapter makes up for its crappyness.
He was drowning. His cupboard was filling with black liquid and he was drowning and he every time he tried to speak a spell or call for help he was pushed back down, choking, spluttering, his chest burning -
Harry dodged the first blow still asleep, the feeling of his body shifting out of bed and across the room waking him. He was only semi-conscious by the time his brain registered that he was under attack, that someone, something, was in his room and trying to kill him, and he stumbled out of the way. A second blow struck him at an angle, the rough force hitting his side and sending him crashing into his desk. Eyes still shut, he threw up a Shield, forcing his attacker away as he finally snapped into real consciousness, his wand flying into his hand, curse on his lips, ready to defend himself from -
Remus.
The wolf stood before him on all fours, the twisted figure of half man, half wolf. He'd know the sight anywhere, the rough, grey and black fur, the scarred flesh in bald patches, long snout, sharp teeth... He'd seen Moony in wolf-form before, several times, but not like this. Not snarling and drooling like a rapid dog, claws extended and teeth bared in a snarl. The pain in Harry's sides and face faded as battle-readiness sunk in, his magic rising and his heart racing. He managed to get out half a thought before the wolf attacked again.
Wolfsbane, he forgot to take his Wolfsba-
Harry ducked and rolled out of the way, his magic giving him an extra split second to react and allowing him to dodge the wolf's claws. He shot off a quick, "Stupefy!" knowing it wouldn't knock a werewolf out, but hoping it would make it hesitate. It worked, the bright light and uncomfortable rush of the spell making the wolf flinch back, and Harry used that moment to dive over his bed and catch himself on his hands, springing off his palms and out the door, charming it shut behind him.
He had a moment to catch his breath as the wolf in his room howled and bashed at the sealed door. The wood splintered under the inhumanly strong paws of the wolf, and Harry planned.
Only room that will hold him is the basement, got to get him there without getting killed. Most spells too weak to stun wolf, and can't risk killing him by cursing him. Got to stay on him, can't let him escape house. In pain, bleeding - not life threatening. Once he's broken through the door - ten, nine, eight - run to basement, make sure he follows - seven, six, five - work it out from there - four, three, two, one-
The door shattered and Harry started running. He could feel the wolf right behind him, only barely managing to avoid claws with the help of magically enhanced speed and reflexes. He tore through the house, pushing things over to slow the wolf down as he rushed to the basement. Several times the wolf managed to swipe at him, sending him crashing against walls and shattering furniture, but Harry just forced him away with a surge of unfocused magic and kept running. He dodged and ducked, swearing when his magic failed to shove Remus back like it should have, sweat pouring down his face like a flood with every increasingly shaky step he took. When he finally reached the basement he jumped nearly clean down the stairs into the dark room, barely noticing the torn up walls and shredded furniture as he turned to throw up a Shield Charm. The wolf was growling and snarling behind him, lashing at the golden shield around the boy and making Harry grit his teeth as it sapped at his energy.
Throw Shield out, knock him down. Only has to fall for long enough for me to reach the top of the stairs. May exhaust me, one shot at this, three, two, one-
Harry forced the Shield out of his wand, knocking the werewolf back with it. He sprinted back to the staircase, letting his magic boost him up the stairs and out the door. The wolf was right on his heels, and when Harry slammed the door shut he heard it smash against the wolf's snout. The teenager sealed the door with what felt like the last of his magic, shouting a charm that would only allow Remus to exit when he was in human form again.
It was three minutes since Harry had been woken up by the wolf's attack, and finally the world rushed back to the boy. His magical awareness receded, his heart rate began to slow, and he lowered his wand cautiously. Pain started seeping back into his consciousness, in his sides, his head, his face, and he noticed blood dripping down his chin to stain his shirt.
Fuck.
Harry collapsed back against the wall opposite the basement door, staring at it blankly as the last few minutes began to process. Remus attacked me. Actually, honest-to-God attacked me. He could have killed me if I wasn't trained for it. He would have killed anyone else who was staying here. Fuck, what if he got out? He could have attacked our neighbours...
Harry jumped to his feet and rushed to the front door, sighing in relief when he saw it was still sealed. He noted claw marks in the walls of the hallway, and when he went to check the windows in the living room he found the couches overturned. Every room he went into added to the growing rage in his chest, a burning fury that made him clench his fists and stalk more fiercely with every cracked wall and torn piece of furniture.
Goddamn it, with my magic being as unpredictable as it is right now I'm going to have to fix most of this the muggle way. How the hell could he be so irresponsible as to not take his Wolfsbane? Didn't he learn his lesson in my third year? He could have killed me. And now I'm going to have to stay up for the rest of the night - which, granted, is only a couple of hours - to fix this mess before I go to school. And fuck, school! I have to leave in four hours if I want to get there in time for Glee, goddamn morning rehearsals. This is just fucking perfect.
Harry stalked upstairs to the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet to snatch up a Pain Relieving potion and sculling it, throwing the empty vial into the bin and slamming the cabinet shut. He avoided looking at his face as he always did, just splashing water onto his face to wake himself up and wash away the blood from his split lip. He glared at the red-tinged water slipping down the drain, clutching at the edge of the sink with white knuckled hands.
Okay. I have about three, four hours to get the house to some level of order in case of visitors. I have to make sure there is no major structural damage. I have to make sure Remus hasn't alerted the neighbours to strange happenings, or alerted the American Wizarding Police that there is an unregistered werewolf in a muggle neighbourhood in Ohio. Oh, and I should probably do the homework I was too tired to do yesterday. Goody.
He stomped out of the bathroom, sighing a little when the potion sunk in and the pain started fading. At least I'm not going to ache while I deal with this.
He started in the entryway, cleaning up broken glass from photo frames and putting the rug back into place. There wasn't much he could do about the cracks in the walls or the tears in paint, but he vacuumed and swept up the broken side table, and put the shredded coats that had been hanging on the coat rack in the laundry to be fixed later, when his magic was working right again. He worked his way through the house steadily, righting over-turned tables and chairs, having to struggle with the couches for several minutes before giving them up as too heavy for him alone to move, and swept and vacuumed up broken glass. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, pressed against his every movement, making him stumble and struggle occasionally, but he ignored the steadily growing ache in his face and side and just did what needed doing. By the time sunlight was peeking through the curtains and Remus would be changing back most of the house was back in order; at least, all that could be done without magic. Harry sighed when he heard the basement door open, prodding at the broken TV with his foot. The rage he'd felt at his guardian's irresponsibility was still there, just under the surface, and he could only hope to get through the conversation without resorting to shouting.
He heard the frantic footsteps go upstairs, Remus shouting desperately, "Harry! Harry, where are you?"
"I'd down here," he called half-heartedly, not turning to face the doorway just yet. He could hear the footsteps stop on the steps and turn, rushing towards his voice. He put his hands on his hips, idly wondering what Remus would do all day now that the TV was out of commission as the werewolf approached the living room.
He heard the man stop in the doorway, taking in the destruction he'd wrought, and Harry clenched his fists.
"I'm sorry," Remus finally muttered, his voice weak and shaky. Harry huffed and dug his nails into his palms.
"I told you," the teenager ground out, squeezing his eyes shut against the rage burning in his chest. "I told you that taking so many Droughts would get us in trouble."
"I know," Remus's voice was hoarse, pleading, but the throbbing in Harry's side kept his anger alive. "I know, Harry, you were right. I just - I just forgot-"
Harry whirled around, fixing the pale man with a hard glare, barely registering the look of shock that passed the man's face when he caught sight of Harry's, "You forgot? You forgot that you're actually deadly without your Wolfsbane? You forgot that we're in a muggle neighbourhood where no one could defend themselves from you if you got out? You forgot that I was sleeping upstairs? What if I hadn't moved in time, Remus? What if I had been anyone else? I would have been dead."
"Harry-" Remus began, his eyes wide and horrified, but frustration was pouring out of Harry, the stress that had been haunting him before he'd fallen asleep the night before was centring on the target in front of him. He cut his guardian off.
"On top of this, you've completely trashed the entire house. My magic isn't working right for some reason - it's damn lucky I was able to fight you off - so I can't fix it - and thanks so muchfor your help last night, by the way - but I know I have to because you're too fucking useless to actually take responsibility and do it!"
Remus flinched back, and Harry took a step forward.
"What the hell happened, Remus? Because you were coping fine when we got here! I actually felt like I had a father for the first time. I actually felt like maybe, just maybe, I could be a child for the only time in my life. But no. You just had to keep upping your dosage until once again, I had to step up. You know what? I'm fucking sick and tired of having to step up and do the right thing because the adults in my life, the people who are actually meant to be dealing with all this shit, decide that they can't be bothered!"
"Harry, it's not that, I just get so anxious-" Remus tried to interject, but Harry silenced him with a humourless laugh.
"Bullshit. You weren't anxious last night when you overdosed, Remus. Remember? You weren't scared or panicky. You felt guilty because you knew you'd dropped the ball and you couldn't grow up and handle it, so you took your drugs and left me on my own to handle something that I shouldn't have had to," Harry's fists were clenched so hard at his side he was sure he was breaking the skin, but he didn't stop. "It seems like I keep having to do things I shouldn't have to because of you. I shouldn't have to lie to my friends and teachers about my home life. I shouldn't have to take care of you like you're a goddamn toddler. And I shouldn't have to keep making excuses for why you've regressed to childhood right when you needed to grow up."
Harry cut himself off with a disgusted sigh as Remus broke down in front of him, sobbing weakly into his hands and shivering from head to foot.
A small part of him noted that while usually his magic would be going haywire if he was this angry, right now there was no hint of it; not a flicker, not a spark, nothing. That part of him was soon quietened by Harry's rage over taking him again, and his voice became louder, "You had one thing I needed you to do, Remus. One thing! Just remember to take the potion that you have been doing three times a month for the last Merlin knows how many years. I didn't need you to be an adult. I didn't need you to actually put any effort into something. I just needed you to not try and kill me and you couldn't even do that!"
Remus was shrinking into himself with every shout, and Harry just kept moving forward. The tears in the man's eyes just fuelled the fire, and Harry found himself standing in front of Remus with his hands clenched in shaking fists at his sides, chest heaving, lips curled back into a snarl. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, managing to force his rage down for long enough to say, "I need to leave for school in an hour. Between now and then, I need to shower, do my homework, and get ready. Please try not to destroy anything else while I'm gone."
Harry stalked out of the room, ignoring Remus's weak sob as he stomped up stairs. He showered in about two minutes, scrubbing down over the soreness in his body none-too-gently in frustration. The heat helped a little, but Harry still winced when he bumped into his cracked desk on the way to his wardrobe. He threw on the first clothes he grabbed, not even bothering to wonder if Kurt would approve, and began to gather up the homework that had been scattered off his desk last night. Some things were torn - a couple were even blood stained - but he piled them on his desk anyway, picking up his chair from where it had been tipped over and attempting to get to work.
Right, so I have 30 math problems, two pages of Spanish translation, I need to read two chapters for history, and write a proposal for a project for Literature. Mr Schue will understand if I need another to finish those, I can read the chapters after Glee, and the teacher probably won't notice if I don't hand in my proposal. Maths it is.
Harry eventually found his calculator on the carpet under his bed. The screen was cracked but it was still working, so the wizard started making his way through the math problems, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice that the liquid paper on both sides of the worksheets were covering blood drops. That can't be hygienic, but what else can I do?
He finished the problems as fast as he could, rushing through the last couple as the minutes dragged on, and by the time he'd faked the last question - it doesn't matter if it's right, as long as it's done- he discovered he should have left ten minutes ago.
"Fuck," he muttered, sweeping his books off his desk and shoving them into his bag, wincing when he heard paper scrunching. He ran a brush through his hair a couple of times before he ran out the door, pointedly ignoring the still trashed house and Remus's shut bedroom door as he ran to his car, jumping in and peeling out of the driveway as fast as he could. He cursed again when he saw the clock in his car - he was probably going to be the last one in. Here's to hoping they don't hide behind things when I walk in.
He pulled into the car park at McKinley ten minutes after Glee rehearsals had started. With Regionals being only 16 days away, things were getting more intense. He could only hope his being late didn't further cement the club's less than stellar view of him. He could hear the club's vocal warm ups from down the hall and broke into a job, rummaging through his bag with one hand to tug out his rumpled sheet music. Guess it's now or never.
He slipped in as quietly and unobtrusively as he could, but most of the club still glanced over. He shot Mr Schuester an apologetic look as the warm up paused and the teacher looked over to him with a frown.
"Sorry I'm late," he attempted to smile, even though it would be hard for them to see behind his veil of hair. He thought about trying to explain his tardiness, but quickly dismissed it. How do you explain, 'my guardian turned into a wolf and tried to kill me, trashing the house in the process' in a muggle-friendly way?Mr Schuester's frown didn't lesson, and Harry cringed at the man's hard tone.
"Try not to let it happen again, Harry," the teacher, nodded him towards the group, and the wizard scurried over, slipping next to Tina at the end. "We need to focus with Regionals being so close."
"Sorry," he muttered again, trying to shoot a smile to Tina. To his dismay, she glanced away, shifting her weight so she was closer to Mercedes on her other side. The wizard glanced around the group, noting that Mercedes, Artie, and Mike all avoided his eyes, Rachel, Quinn and Puck looked at him with curious worry, and Finn actually glared at him. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach; the fear, the curiosity, the anger... it was like being back in the Wizarding World. Only Kurt, Santana, Brittany and Sam looked at him normally, sending him smiles and waves of greeting and soothing his hurt just a little. He focused his attention back on the teacher, trying to ignore the worry the man hid behind sternness.
"All right, we'll run through that one once more, then we'll start going through choreography," Mr Schuester nodded to the pianist, and the scales started up again. Harry followed along quietly, eyes on his feet lest he accidentally catch Tina's eye and see fear. It was all going fine for a few minutes, until the scales ended and Mr Schuester clapped his hands. "Okay, everyone get into position for the Duran Duran number. Finn, try not to trip on Artie this time. Harry, could you get your hair off your face? You're muffled. Brittany, please put down the watermelon."
Harry ran his hands through his hair without thinking, brushing it aside like he usually did for Glee. It wasn't until Rachel took one look at him and shrieked that he remembered why he hadn't in the first place.
Oh, right. Hitting the desk probably bruised me. Maybe I should rethink my stance on mirrors on days when I'm injured.
"Oh my God, Harry, what happened?" the diva's hands had flown up to her mouth, and all the Gleeks turned to see what had made her scream. There were several gasps as the club members caught sight of Harry's unobscured face, with both Puck and Artie swearing quite fiercely and Santana grabbing Brittany's hand. The wizard felt his face heat up a little and tried to laugh.
"Oh, right. That. I - tripped last night and hit my face on my desk. How bad is it? I didn't look in a mirror," he attempted to sound light-hearted, but he couldn't help but cringe when Kurt stormed over to him, tilting his head up so his face was in the light. "Ow! Be careful, love, that's sore."
"Harry, your whole face is black and blue," Kurt's voice was trembling, but his eyes were narrowed in anger. "You can't have tripped and hit both sides of your face."
"Is it?" Harry furrowed his brow a little, trying to remember how he'd fallen when he'd been struck. I thought I only hit the right side of my face against the desk? I must have taken another blow without realising. It did happen pretty fast."I hadn't noticed. The left can't be too bad, surely? It doesn't hurt much."
"It's bad enough," Kurt said curtly, still eyeing Harry's face critically. Harry glanced to the side, not wanting to watch his boyfriend map out his bruises. He could see Rachel clinging to a guilty looking Finn's arm and hissing in his ear, and various gleeks exchanging worried looks and whispers. He jumped a little when he felt a third hand on his arm, looking back over to see Mr Schuester standing on his other side. The man's eyes were wide and his face was pale as he took in the injuries on his student, and he pursed his lips.
"This didn't happen in a fall, Harry," the teacher said flatly, attempting to manoeuvre Kurt out of the way to get a better look. "Like Kurt said, if you tripped and hit your face it wouldn't be on both sides. And this is really deep, Harry, and your lip is split in two places... you need to go to a doctor."
"No I don't, it's just a bruise," Harry protested, pulling back away from both of them. He glanced around the room again, dropping his eyes when he saw how many gleeks were looking at him with morbid fascination. Quinn looked ready to run over and hug him, as did Rachel, and both Sam and Puck looked furious. Finn and Artie were exchanging guilty looks, and Santana was trying to sooth a confused Brittany. Mercedes, Mike and Tina just huddled together, staring at him wide eyed as he tried not to panic. "Look, I'm really fine, see? It's just a little bruising. I've had worse."
To Harry's horror, Kurt actually let out a little sob, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling to stave off tears, "I'm I really meant to believe that you fell after how angry Remus was yesterday morning? How he shouted at you over nothing?"
"That was different," Harry protested, shaking his head violently then wincing when pain shot through his head. "Ow. But he was withdrawing then. He wasn't last night, he took his meds and went to bed. He didn't even eat dinner."
Instead he almost ate me. And dinner almost ate me. And dinner ate itself. Last night was a weird night all around, actually.
Mr Schuester looked utterly unconvinced, and he and Kurt shared a look that made Harry wince, "Can we please just do the choreography? Like you said, Regionals is soon and we need to practice."
The teacher saw the bruised student glance over at the still staring group and sighed, "We'll talk about this later, Harry. For now, yes. Let's get back to work."
"Mr Schue-" Kurt protested, but the teacher silenced him with a soft,
"Don't you think this would be a better conversation to have in private?"
Kurt shut his mouth with a snap and paused, finally nodding reluctantly, "Can I at least go and grab him some ice from the nurse's office?"
"Good idea," Mr Schue agreed softly, before stepping around Kurt to get between the boyfriends and the rest of the group. "Okay, guys, from the top!"
"I don't really need ice," Harry tried to insist, but Kurt waved him away with a scowl.
"Shut up. I'm mad at you," the taller boy hissed, shooting a glance at the back of Mr Schue's head before leaning in to add. "I know you're lying to me about falling, Harry. Even when you're tired your reflexes are too fast to let yourself fall. Didn't you once tell me you can defend yourself from attack in your sleep? How am I meant to believe you fell hard enough to do that to yourself?"
"I did fall," Harry insisted, glancing over at the now moving group, mentally thanking Mr Schuester for distracting them so Harry and Kurt could talk. "I just..."
He finally looked Kurt in the eye, his stomach churning when he saw the worry and anger and hurt in Kurt's beautiful eyes. Didn't I tell myself I would never lie to him unless I legally had to? This doesn't count.He took a deep breath.
"I hit my face against my desk, Kurt, I really did, I just... had some assistance getting there," he admitted softly, dropping his eyes again. Kurt's breath caught and Harry rushed to reassure him. "It's not that bad, and it was an accident. He was just - there was an issue with some of his meds and he was a bit out of control. I gave him an earful when he woke up this morning, that's for sure."
"Remus did this," Kurt said flatly, his voice soft enough that Harry was fairly sure no one else would hear them. "He hurt you."
"Not intentionally," Harry hurriedly pulled Kurt out the door of the choir room, suddenly aware of the pianist watching them with alarm. "And he didn't hit me or anything, Kurt, he just... knocked me down. Like I did to Mr Schuester the other day."
"Hard enough to do that?" Kurt prodded Harry's cheek with narrowed eyes, and Harry flinched.
"I hit the desk hard enough to do that, yeah. It's not a big deal, Kurt. I can handle it."
Kurt looked at him for a long moment, before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the unsplit side of Harry's mouth. Harry returned the kiss automatically, looking up hopefully when Kurt pulled away. His boyfriend still looked disturbed and conflicted, but he gently pushed Harry back towards the choir room and started down the hall.
"I'm still getting you ice," he grumbled as he left, leaving Harry to go back inside on his own. He quickly stepped back into line next to Tina, who looked over at him this time and smiled weakly. The pity in her eyes made him flinch and look down at his feet, and he moved through the steps of the dance automatically.
There were moments in this routine where he stepped with Quinn, twirling her in his arms. She squeezed his hands for a second and looked into his eyes with compassion. She bent forward and leaned close to his ear.
"Artie and Finn are being stupid. I know you're not dangerous."
Harry looked up at her gratefully, his first genuine smile of the day touching his lips, "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me for being your friend," she whispered before she danced away, leaving Harry to have to catch up with the other boys. His heart felt a little lighter at Quinn's reassurance.
I guess she's had experience with friends judging her, he considered as he moved, ducking Finn's elbow on reflex. Now I just have to earn her faith in me by not disabling another footballer. I wonder who else doesn't believe them? I wonder who does? Fuck, I hope I don't split the club into sides over this. They're a family, they don't need me messing things up for them like that.
Kurt came back in with a bag of ice when Mr Schuester was helping Finn with one of the more complicated moves. He stalked over to Harry and pressed it against his face with tenderness that belied the scowl on his face. Harry brought a hand up and placed it over Kurt's on the ice bag, pleading with his eyes for Kurt to not be angry with him. The taller boy's gaze softened and he sighed, pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead and resting his chin on Harry's head. Harry leaned into the touches gratefully, and sighed a little when he felt how the ice soothed the pain ever so slightly.
"You don't have to do this alone," Kurt murmured, his voice tight and strained. "You don't, Harry."
"I do," Harry objected softly, shrugging a little. "But it's okay. I'm used to it."
"You are so frustrating," Kurt's voice was fond, and he pulled away to shoot Harry a wry look. "One day, Harry Potter, one day you will believe me when I say you're handsome, believe me when I say you don't have to do things on your own, and believe me when I say that green and silver would look amazing on you."
"I believe the last one, I'm just ignoring it. I have bad associations with those colours," Harry grinned. "The first two are crap, though."
Kurt made a frustrated noise and poked Harry playfully. His finger his Harry's rib on a deep bruise, and the wizard couldn't help but hiss and pull away, his hand flying up to protect his chest. There was a moment where both of them froze.
Well fuck, that's not good.
Kurt's face twisted into a scowl and he grabbed the hem of Harry's t-shirt with rough hands. He yanked it up so that it was above Harry's face, swatting away the hands that tried to stop him, and stared hard at Harry's torso.
Harry had looked at his torso in the shower, so he knew what was provoking the gasps around him; layers and layers of purple bruises and red scrapes, deep and angry on his pale skin. On his right it was from hitting the desk hard enough to crack the wood, so it was mottled and covering his side. On the left it was from Moony's big paw, with four tiny cuts where the wolf's claws had nicked him. It was deep and black and shaped vaguely like a hand; Kurt's knuckles were white on Harry's shirt.
"Mr Schue," Kurt ground out, his teeth gritted and his voice wavering. The teacher turned before Harry could tug his shirt back down and caught sight of the bruises and scrapes. As Harry pulled away and tried to tug down his shirt the man rushed forward, his hand closing around the hem of Harry's shirt next to Kurt's, holding it up so he could see. Harry pulled on it more desperately, glancing around at the wide-eyed stares of his friends as the shirt stretched from his efforts.
"Please let go," he begged the two men in a whisper. The tightness in his voice seemed to startle both Kurt and Mr Schuester into obeying, dropping his shirt back into place and covering his injuries. Harry smoothed it down, his eyes on his feet as his mind began to race.
Fuck fuck fuck, there is no way they'll let this go now. Why didn't I try to heal it? Right, my magic isn't stable enough, fuck. What if Mr Schuester tells the police? What if they try to send me away? I don't have anywhere else to go, and I'm not a permanent citizen anyway, could they send me back to England? They can't send Remus to a muggle prison, this will bring American Wizarding Law Enforcement down on us. What do I do what do I do what do I do-
"Harry, deep breathes," Kurt's voice soothed him, a gentle hand slipping behind his back to rub his shoulder gently. Harry glanced up at his boyfriend with damp eyes - he'd started hyperventilating without realising. Mr Schuester was shepherding the two boys out of the choir room, quietly instructing the gleeks they were leaving behind as he followed. Harry allowed himself to be led through the hallways, focusing on keeping his breathing even as Kurt and Mr Schuester walked quietly at his sides.
I can't Obliviate everyone, not with my magic like this, maybe if I ask someone back home to undo any charges brought against Remus I can - no, I can't tell anyone where I am, I'm alone, I have to do this on my own, fuck - did I take a Calming Drought this morning? I can't remember. I don't think I did. Merlin, I have to calm down - they know, they've seen, but he isn't abusing me, he's not, it was just one bad day, I need to think of an excuse. What can I say? I don't know what to do...
The wizard allowed himself to be ushered into the empty Guidance office. He collapsed into the chair Kurt motioned him to, letting his boyfriend cling to his hand as Harry looked resolutely at his knees. Mr Schuester leaned against the front of the desk, arms folded, and for a moment there was a pause. Reluctantly, Harry broke the silence.
"He hasn't been abusing me."
Mr Schuester sighed and Kurt tightened his grip on Harry's hand, and Harry looked between them imploringly, "Really. Last night was the first time he'd ever... and he didn't mean too. He just..."
Harry trailed off, thinking furiously. Inspiration flashed through him and he ran with it, "He was so out of it. His medication... it's not good. He didn't knock me into a desk, he... knocked me down the stairs."
Kurt gasped, one elegant hand flying up to his mouth, but Mr Schuester looked unconvinced. Harry tried to look sincere, "It was an accident, really. When he sobered up and woke up this morning I went mental at him, told him that he almost killed me because of those stupid drugs. He feels terrible about it."
"That may be so, Harry, but he still hurt you," Mr Schuester's voice was gentle, soothing, but Harry just shook his head, clutching at Kurt's hand tightly.
"Not intentionally," he argued, looking down again. "It was an accident."
There was a pause, and the wizard could sense the silent conversation happening above him. Kurt squeezed his hand gently, and the wizard looked up automatically. Kurt's expression was hesitant, thoughtful, and after a quick glance at Mr Schuester, he began to speak, "Harry... one of those bruises looked like a hand print."
Paw print.
"From when he knocked me," Harry clenched his empty fist thinking of how the werewolf had struck him, of how hard he'd hit his desk... Kurt nodded.
"So he hit you, knocked you off balance, and you fell down the stairs?" Kurt confirmed, looking into Harry's eyes carefully. Harry winced.
"He didn't hit me, he just..." Harry trailed off, thinking of the bruise on his side. He cringed. "...yes. That's what happened."
"Okay," Kurt let out a long breath. Harry could feel his boyfriend's hand trembling a little in his own, and he could hear the shakiness in the boy's voice. "Okay, that's - we can deal with this."
You shouldn't have to, Harry thought, taking in his boyfriend's pale face and trembling mouth with miserable eyes. You shouldn't have to deal with my problems. God, this is all wrong. This is all so fucking wrong.
Mr Schuester was looking carefully between his two students. He took a deep breath before he spoke, "Can I see it again, Harry? The bruising on your chest?"
Harry flinched, and the man raised his hands in surrender, "Only if you're comfortable with it. I just want to make sure they aren't worse than they looked in the choir room."
The choir room where everyone saw them. Fuck, why did everyone have to see? Why did... why did Kurt have to show them like that?
Harry glanced at Kurt, who smiled weakly. A kernel of anger started burning in Harry's chest when he thought back to how Kurt had forced his shirt up in the choir room, called attention to the bruises, made Harry deal with it like he was having too... He took a deep breath and forced the anger away. They've already seen them once... he shakily raised his hands to the hem of his shirt and peeled it up, letting it stop just above the bottom of his ribcage. Kurt hissed in sympathy when he saw the bruising, and Mr Schuester grimaced. For a long, uncomfortable moment, both men just stared, taking in the deep purple on Harry's ribs, the scrapes on his stomach, the huge almost-hand print on his side. The whole thing was mottled and ugly, on top of Harry's already hideous scars, and he cringed at the thought of Kurt seeing them.
I must look like a monster to him, just a total fucking mess. How could he want to be with me? Why did he have to see them, have to show them? Damn it, I can't deal with this, I can't I can't I can't.
"Sweetie, take a deep breath, you're hyperventilating again," Kurt soothed him, reaching out to put a hand on Harry's shoulder. The wizard pulled away from his touch, lowering his shirt with a fierce scowl at his knees. He kept seeing the looks on his friends' faces in the choir room, Quinn's tear-filled eyes, Sam's horror, Puck's anger... They won't be able to look at me the same way again. They'll pity me as well as fear me. Why couldn't he have asked about it in private? Why did he have to show them? Kurt hesitated when Harry pulled away from him, and the wizard could see him lower his hand. There was an uncomfortable pause as Harry slowed his breathing, forcing back his fear and anger to try and focus on fixing this.
"Harry," Mr Schuester began carefully, and Harry looked up to catch his eye. The teacher looked regretful, worried, and the boy tensed in anticipation. "I have to report this."
Harry's stomach dropped, and he could feel his face lose what little colour it had. Kurt reached out to grab his hand, but Harry snatched it away and got to his feet, his breathing speeding up again.
"You can't," he forced out between breaths, clenching his fists at his sides. "Sir, you can't-"
"Your guardian almost killed you, Harry. That can't just go away," the teacher stood up straighter, trying to persuade Harry with logic, but the wizard just shook his head.
"You can't," he insisted, his throat feeling tighter every second. "I have no one else, do you understand? No one. There is no family to send me to, no one to take custody. If he's arrested or I'm sent away, they'll put me into foster care."
Both Kurt and Mr Schuester flinched at Harry's frantic words, and Kurt raised a hand to his mouth. Harry went on, his words tumbling over one another.
"I don't even know what kind of visa I have - what if they send me back to England? What if they send me back to the Dursleys? Then I would be getting abused, Mr Schuester, genuinely, actually abused, not one stupid mistake on Remus's part. And Remus - he needs help, prison would destroy him, and it was an accident anyway. Please, you can't tell anyone-"
"Harry, I have to," Mr Schuester interrupted, taking a cautious step towards the shaking teenager. "I can't let you go back to a home where your guardian - intentionally or not - is putting your life at risk. His drug use - and I know that it's prescription, I understand that it's for a medical issue - but it's out of control."
"I can handle it," Harry insisted, his voice breaking on the last word. He forced certainty he didn't feel into his words as he tried again. "I can handle it, Mr Schue."
The teacher paused, rubbing his face with one slightly trembling hand, "Harry... I don't think you can."
The rage that shot through Harry at these words surprised even him. Had his mind been a little clearer he would have been shocked that nothing broke or shattered when it hit him, that his magic didn't react at all, but instead he just went perfectly still. Everything he was feeling, everything he had felt in the last year focused on that moment, into that freezing rage, and he spoke very clearly, "I have handled far more than this. I have been through far worse things than this. What I can't handle is people meddling in things that don't concern them, so let me make this clear."
He focused his flashing eyes on Kurt, his resolve not weakening at the sight of his boyfriend's damp eyes, "If the police get involved in this, none of you will ever see me again. This is my life. Remus is my responsibility, and I. Can. Handle it."
There was a pause while Kurt and Mr Schuester stared at him with wide eyes. Harry's hands were shaking and his mind was racing, but he turned without a word and stalked towards the door. Mr Schuester's voice stopped him.
"You're wrong, Harry."
Harry's hand tightened on the doorknob. The teacher continued softly, "He shouldn't be your responsibility. You're meant to be his."
"Yeah, well, that's not how it works for me," Harry muttered, pulling the door open with a hard tug, trying to ignore how heavy it felt. He stomped outside and down the hall, back towards the choir room. I have to go home, get my Calming Drought, then get back to school before the first bell. What can I say to the glee kids? Will they even be able to look at me? I don't think I can handle this. I don't know what to do.