A/N: One day I plan to be bold and NOT start a chapter with Harry waking up and end the chapter with him falling asleep. Really. One day I'm sure I'll manage it. I can't help it! It's just such an easy, logical place to end things, and I'm terrible at beginnings and ending. Particularly endings. Also this fic is SO LONG. CHARACTERS WHY WON'T YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY. I have about another six or seven chapters AT LEAST in my head, and I've only finished 3 assignments out of the 20 I have this semester at uni. Please kill me.

God, I don't even know. I'm sure there are many wonderful insightful comments I could make, thanking reviewers and answering questions but I'm so tired. All the time. Also I always update late at night when I should already be in bed because I don't know, I'm a terrible person I guess. I have to be at work at 8 tomorrow morning, and I need to leave an hour earlier to get there on public transport, so I'll be up at six, and I probably won't fall asleep until about 2 even if I go to bed now at 10. I'm so tired.

The gentle knock on the door didn't wake Harry up - Kurt's yelp when Harry unconsciously grabbed him at the sound did. The wizard sat up in one movement, going for his missing wand holster again as Kurt rolled off the side of the bed.

"Harry!" Kurt yelped from the ground. "Good grief, it's just someone at the door!"

"Sorry!" Harry rubbed a hand over his face, scrambling over to Kurt's side of the bed to help his boyfriend up. Kurt's hair was sticking up at every angle but Harry was still too shaky and confused to laugh. "Sorry, I was - I didn't -"

"It's fine, sweetie, I'm just grumpy when I wake up," Kurt waved off Harry's apology around a yawn, sitting back on the bed and running his fingers through his hair. "Come in!"

The door began to creep open as Harry tried to rub the fuzziness out of his eyes. It felt like barely any time had passed at all, but the last beams of sunlight that had been slipping through the window when he'd fallen asleep were gone, replaced by the white light of the street lamp. Kurt reached over to switch on his bedside lamp, sending vaguely ominous shadows across the room, bathing the figure in the doorway in light. Harry's stomach dropped when the figure's height registered; he'd assumed that the person knocking was Burt or Carole, but neither of them were nearly that tall.

"I brought you dinner," Finn shuffled his feet in the partially open doorway, balancing a tray with two plates on it against his hip. Kurt's head snapped around from where he had been staring at his hair in his vanity with horror, his blue eyes widening when he saw his brother hovering at the entrance. "Burt, uh, asked me to bring it up. Can I come in?"

"Um, maybe - just give me the tray," Kurt scurried forward, shooting a worried look at where Harry sat perfectly still and silent on his bed. "We're pretty tired, so thank you for bringing this up but could you please go?"

"I wanted to talk to Harry," Finn protested, looking over Kurt's head desperately. "Please? Just for a minute."

"Finn, I really don't think now is the best time," Kurt warned him. Harry surprised himself by speaking up, his voice oddly calm and even.

"It's okay. I'll talk to Finn."

Finn's face split into a grin even as dread rose in Harry's throat. He didn't want to speak to Finn - didn't want to be reminded of "He's dangerous, Kurt, he hurt Azimio,"or of Finn's back as he'd run off down the hallway - but the other boy was so hopeful he couldn't say no. It would have felt like kicking a puppy. So Harry focused on keeping his breathing even and ignoring the memories of Finn's voice calling him dangerous as Finn sat down at Kurt's desk.

It wasn't easy. Finn had been one of the first people to really welcome him to the US when he'd first transferred - after Kurt had introduced them and Harry had stood up to the jocks, he had taken it upon himself to integrate Harry with the boys of New Directions. He'd always invited Harry to video game nights, and staunchly stood up for him and Kurt when they walked down the hallways together. They weren't super close, but Harry liked Finn. They were friends - or they had been. Hearing Finn call him dangerous and warn Kurt away from him, watching him flee rather than speak to him when the whole school thought he was a freak... it had hurt more than Harry had thought it would. How is it that I've been in this country for less than a year but these people have already gotten so deeply under my skin?

"I, uh - just wanted to say, um. Sorry for being so weird before you got... sick," Finn cringed at Kurt's quiet huff, and hurried to specify. "I mean, I'm sorry I said you were dangerous and avoided you and stuff. I shouldn't have been so, like, not-sensitive. I was just worried about Kurt, you know? I mean, I'm his brother, I'm meant to protect him, but I should have thought about what you were going through. Rachel did a bunch of research, she said you've got this thing called - called post-dramatic distress disease or something and that's what was making you so jumpy -"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder," Harry corrected faintly. He felt a little light headed, a bit detached from the scene. Finn nodded eagerly, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Right! That. She said that your anxiety attacks and stuff were, like, completely out of your control. I didn't - she said you really couldn't have stopped yourself hurting Azimio if he scared you at the wrong time, but that you wouldn't hurt Kurt or us because we know not to touch you and stuff and we wouldn't attack you and - it was really confusing but she said that you're not dangerous, you're just sick but you'll get better and I didn't - I didn't get it. So I'm really sorry I was a jerk to you, Harry. So, so sorry."

"It's all right," Harry murmured, slowly grasping at the blankets underneath his hand. Something was dawning on him slowly, something that distracted him enough that he didn't notice Kurt's start when he said, "You - you really have a point."

"Harry," Kurt sighed, but Harry shook his head.

"No, really - I'm not being self-deprecating or anything, I'm just thinking - from Finn's perspective I really would have looked dangerous. He didn't know I had PTSD - how could he? He didn't know that I was actually ill. From where he was standing I just lost my temper and randomly almost broke someone's arm, and then spent time alone with his brother."

"Yeah!" Finn enthused, shrinking back when Kurt hit him with a deadly glare. "I mean, I'm still sorry that I was a jerk but-"

"I get it," Harry interrupted. It felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders; Finn didn't hate him. He just didn't know. It was like he'd told Burt - Finn was just a kid. Like Puck and Brittany and well, all of them. Harry included. "I do, Finn. Consider your apology accepted. I'm sorry that I've taken over your house recently."

Finn laughed a little, visibly relaxing, "Dude, you couldn't even walk. Where else were you going to go?"

"Yes, well, that's all very well and good but I think Harry and I should eat now," Kurt burst in before Finn could make Harry blush any deeper. Finn jumped a little before clambering to his feet, lumbering towards the door.

"Right! Yeah. It's really good lasagne, Kurt, thanks for cooking."

"You're welcome," Kurt smiled a little, angelic and innocent. "I'm glad you enjoyed your low-fat, vegetarian meal."

"Wait, what?" Finn yelped as Kurt shut the door on his back. Harry smiled when he could hear Finn through the door. "Dude, that's just wrong."

"So that went well," Kurt said brightly, grabbing the dinner tray off his desk and bringing it over to his boyfriend. "I was worried Finn was still going to be weird about it, I hadn't realised he genuinely didn't understand that you were diagnosably ill. I forget that he needs little words and simple explanations sometimes."

Harry nodded, taking his plate from Kurt's outstretched hands gratefully.

"Yeah, that was the easiest thing I've done all day," the wizard sighed a little, mostly content. "If only everything else could be that easy. I still have to work out where I'm living and how to speak to my therapist, and catch up with school work and get to the point where I can actually go back to schooommmph."

Kurt shut Harry up quite effectively by shoving a tomato from the salad into his mouth while he spoke. While Harry did his best to chew and not choke, Kurt shook his head, "Yes, Harry, you're going to be busy in the next couple of weeks. Now shut the hell up, stop worrying, and start eating. After dinner I have to finish my homework, but after that we're watching Snow White and Mulan and forgetting that this week has sucked, and that next week will probably suck too. All right?"

"Yesh Kuwt," Harry managed to get out around the second piece of tomato he'd been assaulted with when Kurt had thought he was about to interrupt. He focused his attention on the meal in front of him; Kurt was right, he'd have enough to worry about tomorrow without starting today.

It was dark, it was so dark and he needed to get out. The wolf was right behind him, growling in rage and spit flicking onto the back of Harry's neck as he ran, he ran and he ran through the darkness. He was tripping on things, what was he tripping on? Bodies everywhere, on the ground and he was tripping over them, slipping in their blood but ignoring them, abandoning them so he could get away from the wolf. He reached the door and it was locked, he was clawing at it but it was locked and he couldn't get out-

The cold water hitting the back of his head shocked him awake, pulling him back to the land of the living with a muffled cry and a thump as he hit the door. For a moment he was confused - where am I, this isn't Kurt's room, this isn't my room, where where where - but Kurt's voice hissing out, "Harry! Harry!" brought him down. Harry looked around wildly, confused and out of breath and... wet.

"Did Hermione tell you to do that?" he murmured, rubbing the back of his head and shaking the water off of his hand. Kurt let out a strangled laugh.

"She said it - that throwing water on you from a distance, I mean - was one of the only ways to wake you without risking triggering your - your training," he whispered back, placing the empty glass in his hand on a nearby table. Harry looked around the room with blurry eyes - he didn't have his glasses on, but he could tell that he was in the Hummel living room. It was still dark, and the only light in the room came from the lamp beside the couch where Kurt had been sleeping.

"How the hell did I get out here?" he wondered aloud, and Kurt shook his head.

"I woke up to find you staggering down the stairs," Kurt walked forward to help Harry to his feet. When the wizard was upright Kurt straightened out his pyjamas fussily, smoothing back Harry's hair and yawning a little. "It took me a few seconds to work out you were asleep. Come on then."

Harry let Kurt slip an arm around his shoulders and lead him away from the door, leaning gratefully into his boyfriend's side as his heart-rate slowed and the last of the sleep cleared from his eyes.

"So now I can add sleepwalking to my repertoire," Harry deduced, shaking his head. He started when Kurt pulled him past the couch, leading him towards the kitchen. "Um, love? Where are we going?"

"To the moon," was all Kurt replied, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, all right, stupid question, but why are we going to the kitchen?"

"So I can get you some warm milk," Kurt guided Harry through the kitchen door and into a chair at the table, patting Harry's cheek affectionately when he looked confused. "Do you like warm milk?"

"I - don't recall if I've ever had it?" Harry squinted at nothing, trying to recall if any of his (admittedly many) late night excursions to the Hogwarts kitchen with Ron had included warm milk. He couldn't remember any, and when Kurt tutted Harry shrugged. "We drank this thing at my school - it was like warm, buttery ginger beer - when we needed to sleep. Or anytime we could get away with it really, it was delicious."

"Well so is warm milk, just give me five minutes," Kurt yawned as he grabbed a pan from the cupboard, putting it on the stove while he went to the fridge. Harry couldn't help but yawn along with him, becoming aware of the exhaustion seeping into his bones. If he squinted a lot he could see that the clock above the fridge said it was a little after three in the morning, so he'd slept for at least six hours, but he felt like he'd been up for days.

He and Kurt had watched Snow White and Mulan on Kurt's laptop, cuddled up on the bed with a big bowl of popcorn Carole had made for them. Kurt had then put on Sleeping Beauty but, somewhat poetically, Harry had fallen asleep before Maleficent had even arrived at the party. Kurt must have snuck downstairs at that point, though Harry couldn't imagine how; when he'd fallen asleep it had been with his head resting on Kurt's shoulder.

"You don't have to keep sleeping on the couch, you know. We can swap," Harry drummed his fingers on the table, peering out through the open kitchen door to the blurred image of the blankets tossed over the back of the couch. Kurt shook his head as he watched the pan, stirring the milk with a wooden spoon.

"I don't think so. If you've started sleep walking during your nightmares I don't want you that close to the door with no-one there to stop you."

"That's - that's a good point, actually," Harry let his words trail away, scowling at his hands. Goody. Now they're probably going to have to lock me up at night, if not tie me down. But they can't tie me down, if my magic comes back it'll lash out if I'm restrained. How can I stop myself from sleepwalking? It's not exactly a conscious action - hell, I'm asleep, it's unconscious by definition. I'll have to ask Hermione if there's a potion or something... but can I really ask more of her than I already have? She's got so much on her plate, I don't want to add to that-

Kurt plonking a mug on the table in front of him jolted Harry out of his thoughts. He picked up the mug with a quiet, "Thank you," waiting until Kurt had sat down with his own mug to take a sip.

"This is quite good," Harry noted, squinting at the mug as if trying to divine its contents. "Is there honey in it?"

"Honey and a little hint of vanilla," Kurt confirmed, smiling as Harry took a longer sip. He toyed with his own mug for a few moments, sipping at it slowly, before he say it down and reached for Harry's hand. "Do you want to talk about what you were dreaming?"

Harry winced against his mug, letting Kurt intertwine their fingers as he thought. The wizard stared into his milk as he replied, "It was just the usual sort of thing, really. I was running away - I guess that's why I was sleepwalking. I don't know."

"What's 'the usual sort of thing'?" Kurt asked gently, giving Harry's fingers one last squeeze before dropping his hand and picking up his mug. "You've never - we've never really talked about what you dream, just that you do."

When Harry hesitated Kurt hurried to reassure him, "You don't have to say if you don't want to, sweetie. Or if you can't. But I want you to know I'm happy to listen."

"I know," Harry smiled, glancing up at Kurt through his fringe. Even without his glasses he could see the way Kurt's eyes sparkled, and it warmed his heart as surely as the milk did. "I know I can, but I don't want to - they're sometimes memories, and they can get pretty gruesome."

"You don't need to go into details if you're worried about scaring me," Kurt reassured him. "But I'm not too easy to gross out. My mom, she - it took her a long time to die. She had stomach cancer, and it was... messy. I was only a little kid, so I couldn't really help but I was around it, you know? I'm not overly squeamish, is what I'm saying."

Harry had grabbed Kurt's hand the moment he'd mentioned his mother, listening carefully as Kurt spoke. Kurt didn't often speak of his mother, and Harry cherished every moment he did; he never felt closer to his boyfriend then when Kurt was sharing those private parts of himself. Kurt took a deep breath when he was done, composing himself as Harry squeezed his hand.

"It's not always the same thing. The same part of my life, I mean. I'll dream of fighting, of my uncle, of Remus..." He trailed off, the growl and snarl of the werewolf ringing in his ears. Kurt watched him with compassion as Harry forced a weak, fake laugh. "Usually it's a combination thereof, though. Like, I'll be running from my uncle and all of a sudden there's blood on my hands and Kingsley is on the ground..."

Harry's breath caught, and Kurt grabbed his hand again. The other boy have the wizard a moment to compose himself before asking, "What was it tonight?"

"Remus," Harry whispered, looking down at the table without really seeing it. "Just - I felt so betrayed. I still do. He promised he'd never hurt me and then he just - he could have killed me. I think he was trying to. I know he didn't know who I was but he tried to killme. And I keep dreaming about it. About running through the house, trying to work out how to stop him without hurting him, about how if I didn't and he got outside he might go after the neighbours or something. And I can still hear the wolf right behind me - "

"The wolf?" Kurt interrupted, startling Harry out of his musing. By the time Harry looked over at him he was already shaking his head and waving it off. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted, go on."

Crap, I called Remus a wolf, how can I explain that, there's got to be something - wait, I could tell him... and it's actually kind of true...

"It was his codename," Harry looked down at his mug, mind working overtime. "Wolf was Remus's codename, when he could fight. It's just easier to think of the - the man who attacked me as the wolf rather than Remus."

"Wolf," Kurt repeated slowly, tilting his head curiously. "Did that have any significance or...?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed humourlessly. Even though he was technically lying, it felt like the truth. "Because he was a gentle guy usually, but sometimes he turned into a beast. Like a werewolf."

"Gosh," Kurt let out on a breath. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, it's - it's accurate."

They sat quietly sipping their milk for a few moments, before Kurt looked over again, "What else do you dream?"

Harry thought. He'd never really talked about his dreams before - Hermione and Ron knew he had nightmares, but they mostly assumed they were just about Voldemort and fighting. For the most part that was true, but sometime... "I dream about being a little kid again, sometimes. About my uncle, my - my blood family."

"They hurt you, didn't they?" Kurt whispered, grasping Harry's hand. The wizard glared down at the blurry tabletop.

"He never put me in hospital or anything," he murmured, thinking back to the dark days of his childhood. "But they'd slap me if I got in their way or did something wrong, and once or twice he - he used his belt. When I really screwed up. It was mostly..."

Harry trailed off, staring at the wall as Kurt traced gentle patterns onto the back of his hands. He took a deep breath and tried again, "I didn't even know my name until I went to school when I was five. They just called me boy. I was cooking and cleaning from the age of about three - not just chores, but all of the washing, all of the dusting, the gardening, the sweeping, the vacuuming - anything I was big enough to do, I did. And then I slept in the cupboard under the stairs, because my cousin needed two bedrooms just for all his toys, and the guestroom was for my uncle's sister when she visited. They told me I was worthless, a waste of space... that I should have died with my drunk father and my whore mother."

A gentle hand on his cheek made Harry pause. It wiped away tears Harry hadn't realised he'd let fall, and the wizard looked over to his boyfriend bleakly. Harry couldn't tell without his glasses, but it looked as though Kurt had teared up too. Before he could lose his nerve he forced out the rest of his thoughts, "I just keep going back there in my dreams, back to being that subhuman creature that couldn't protect itself... or I go back as myself, and I can't keep myself from tearing them apart. I mean, I hate them but I don't want to be a murderer-"

Kurt's lips pressing firmly against his shut Harry up before he could begin to panic. After a long moment Kurt broke the kiss, leaning across to rest his forehead against Harry's.

"Harry, you know I don't like to swear much," Kurt began, making Harry blink in confusion.

"Uh, yeah?" Harry asked, but Kurt just shushed him and continued.

"I don't like to swear because I can usually find a way to express myself without resorting to vulgarity. But sometimes you need to fight obscenity with obscenity, so believe that I am being completely honest when I say that your aunt and uncle are massive fucking bastards."

Harry choked on a teary laugh, and Kurt went on vehemently, "They were totally fucking stupid, they were totally fucking evil, and they, not you, are total fucking monsters. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Kurt," Harry wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, but Kurt was unmoved.

"Repeat after me: 'my aunt and uncle are stupid.'"

"My aunt and uncle are stupid."

"'My aunt and uncle didn't know what they were talking about, I'm awesome.'"

"My aunt and uncle didn't know what they were talking about."

"'I'm awesome.'"

"I'm awesome."

"'They are monstersfor doing that to a child.'"

"They are monsters for doing that to a child."

"'I did nothing to deserve the way they treated me, and they can go to hell.'"

"I did nothing to d-deserve the way they treated me, and they can definitely go to hell."

"'Also I am handsome.'"

"Nice try, Kurt."

"It was worth a shot," Kurt shrugged, grinning a little at Harry's droll look. "One day, Harry Potter, you will be as charmingly vain as me."

Harry snorted, propping up his head on a hand, "You're not vain, you're always complaining about your weight, your skin, whatever."

"Ah, but I don't complain about my hair," Kurt waved a finger in Harry's face, flushing when Harry caught the hand and pressing a kiss to his fingertips.

"You shouldn't complain about any of it," Harry kissed Kurt's knuckles next, gazing up into what he could see of his boyfriend's eyes. "You're so handsome."

"I'm so pale," Kurt mumbled, his eyes glued to where Harry was still pressing feather light kisses to his palm. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Kurt, because an Englishman is really going to have a problem with pale skin," Harry arched an eyebrow, kissing the blue veins that almost glowed on Kurt's pale wrist. "Really, love? I love your skin. It's so soft and smooth, and you seem to glow sometimes. It's really lovely."

"Well, who am I to disagree with such passionate defence of it," Kurt agreed breathlessly, his cheeks still pink as Harry turned his hand over to press one last kiss to the back of it.

They were quiet for a second, before Kurt ventured to ask, "You were saying before - it just made me wonder, you don't have to tell me... did Ron and Hermione have codenames?"

Harry perked up a little, his mind moving from Remus and the Dursleys or even his own insecurity to something he could actually tell the truth about, "Not official ones, since they weren't technically meant to be fighting, but we gave them ones - me and the Au - other soldiers."

"Can you tell me what they were?" Kurt smiled, leaning forward conspiratorially. Harry laughed a little, thinking of Ron and Hermione's faces when they'd first gotten their names.

"Ron was Cannonball," Harry began, remembering Ron's delight with the name; one of the Aurors suggested it when Ron's orange hair reminded him of the Chudley Cannons, without even knowing that it was Ron's favourite team. Hermione had been less pleased with her nomenclature. "Hermione's was Skirt."

"Skirt? Why Skirt?" Kurt laughed a little, sipping at his cooling milk. Harry grinned back.

"She turned up to battle still wearing her uniform, including the short pleated skirt," he shook his head at the memory of the good-natured teasing Hermione had gotten from the Aurors for her less than battle-appropriate attire. "She wasn't happy when the name stuck. Didn't think it was dignified. Ron got himself a lovely bruise by pointing out that running around a battlefield flashing her knickers wasn't exactly dignified either, but she'd done that."

"Oh, poor Hermione," Kurt giggled to himself, rocking back in his chair. "She's got so much to give, but she'll forever be remembered as the Battle-Flasher."

"I dare you to call her that the next time you see her," Harry teased Kurt lightly, knocking his boyfriend's foot with his own and drinking from his mug. Kurt shook his head.

"There is nothing on this Earth you could give me that would make me do something that stupid," Kurt drained his mug and dropped it back to the table. "I may not know her as well as you do, but I know her well enough to realise that I would probably lose my testicles if I called her that to her face."

"Almost certainly," Harry agreed, going to take another sip of his milk. To his surprise only a little bit was less, and he drained the mug in a single sip. Kurt had already finished his, and when Harry put his mug down the taller boy stood and picked it up.

"Why don't we," Kurt began, taking both mugs over to dishwasher. "Go and sleep on the couch. You must be sick of my room, and I'll have to be up in a couple of hours anyway. We can cuddle until I have to get ready for school. I'm not sure I'm going to sleep anymore anyway."

"Can we?" Harry rubbed at his eyes, smiling sheepishly at his boyfriend. "I can't think of anything I'd like more than for you to be holding me right now."

"With pleasure," Kurt confirmed, holding out a hand and squeezing when Harry took it. The boys made their way back into the living room, Kurt settling on the couch first so Harry could snuggle up against him. Harry fell asleep listening to Kurt's soft, sweet voice singing gently against his hair, his long fingered hands rubbing circles on Harry's back;

No one's gonna hurt you,
No one's gonna dare.
Others can desert you,
Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there.

Demons'll charm you with a smile, for a while,
But in time...
Nothing can harm you
Not while I'm around...