A/N: This chapter just would. Not. END. I'm so sorry, I started this the day after I posted the last chapter but between assignments (so many assignments, so very many assignments) and getting sick (so very sick, I thought I was going to cough up a lung) I just couldn't get it posted. But, here it is. Over 8,000 words and 18 pages of faffing about. Seriously, nothing really happens, but there are some funny bits? I need to learn how to do time lapses without it looking as awkward as fuck. Also Harry cries a lot, but that's more realistic than anything. The next chapter will be faster, I promise! Well, actually, it's coming up to the end of semester and I have four assignments due and two exams in the next two weeks, but after that… I have another two exams but after THAT I'm free for a few weeks! And the next chapter is already started because it ran on into this one and I had to cut it down.

Thank you, as always, to everyone who reviews. It just makes my day. Please don't spoil me for episodes 3x20 or 3x21, I have remained unspoiled thus far and really don't want to get spoiled now. Thanks! Enjoy.

"It's my fault."

"Harry-"

"It's my fault, Hermione, he's killed someone and I could have - fuck, it's my fault."

"Harry, sweetheart, it's not. Please sit down, we should talk about this-"

"There's nothing to talk about, Hermione!" Harry's voice was hoarse from the stomach acid still burning his throat, and from repeating those frantic words over and over again. Hermione stood in front of him in the Hummel's upstairs hallway, watching him with damp, frightened eyes as he paced around the confined space, pulling at his hair and clothes and shaking so hard he could barely speak. Ron had snuck up the stairs behind her and was hovering on the top step like he wasn't sure if he should leave Hermione to take care of it or not. Harry barely saw him. "He killed someone, Hermione, and if I hadn't freaked out and had just followed him and stopped him like I should have it wouldn't have happened, someone is dead because I was pathetic and couldn't handle it and it's my fault, my fault, it's all my fault-"

Hermione's arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning him in place. He struggled for a moment, trying to go back to tugging at his hair, but she didn't let up, "Harry, stop. First of all, we don't even know if he did kill someone. Neville said that they think, for all we know their only proof is that Remus is saying he did and he hallucinated the whole thing - and that's a real possibility. I've been listening for any news, I haven't heard anything about a werewolf killing someone recently. Secondly, even if he has killed someone it is not your fault. For Merlin's sake, you weren't even conscious for most of the time he was missing, what could you do? And don't try to say you should have been conscious for it, that's just stupid and you know it. Calm down, Harry, please."

"It's my fault," Harry could hear himself moan, but it sounded far away. All he was really aware of was this crushing guilt overwhelming him, making him want to tear out his hair and scratch up his skin and hurt himself until he'd bled like he deserved. He could vaguely hear Hermione's distraught voice murmuring, "Oh, sweetheart..." but all he could do was slump into her arms and weep. "It's my fault. I should have stopped him. I should have helped him."

"You did everything you could," Hermione murmured into his hair. Harry couldn't really hear her over his own self-recriminations, but he soaked up the comfort none-the-less. Her arms were warm and her words, though muffled, were soothing; he clung to that feeling to keep away the panic biting at his heels.

He let himself be guided back into Kurt's room, automatically curling up on the bed when they reached it. He buried his head in his hands, digging his fingers into his scalp and rocking a little - anything to ease the overwhelming sting of guilt that was rocking through him. He could faintly hear Hermione talking, handing Ron the letter that had started it all, but he didn't really register it. He was being consumed by my fault, my fault, my fault -

There was a slight dip in the bed next to him, and Hermione's soft, familiar hand stroked across his hair.

"He isn't your responsibility, Harry," she murmured as he wept. "For Merlin's sake, you were his. Whatever he's done, he's done alone. Please, please don't blame yourself for this. It's not your fault."

"Please leave me alone," Harry choked out, his friend's empathy and comfort almost burning him in his guilt. The witch hesitated and Harry went on, nearly incomprehensible through his tears. "Please, I just - I need to process. I need to be alone."

"Harry, if I leave you alone, you won't do anything... stupid, will you?" she asked hesitantly, resting her hand on the back on Harry's neck and squeezing a little. Harry shook his head.

"No, I - Kurt, I promised Kurt I wouldn't hurt myself or anything. I won't," he shuddered a little, panic and grief making him curl up tighter. "Please, just... I want to be alone."

"I'll be right downstairs if you need me," Hermione agreed reluctantly, and the weight next to Harry disappeared. He could vaguely hear her pad her way out of the room as his sobs picked up again, and then he was alone. He grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and buried his face into it, ready to sob out his heartbreak and wallow in his guilt, but a faint scent caught his attention. It must have been the pillow Kurt usually slept on, though Harry didn't know why he hadn't taken it downstairs where he'd been sleeping; even though it had been sitting in a pile in the corner for countless days, it still smelt vaguely of Kurt's shampoo. Grief still rose in Harry like a wave, but the vicious guilt, the overpowering sense that this was my fault, I could have stopped this, the panic that had been threatening to overwhelm him began to... ease. It felt like Kurt was there with him, in a way. Kurt, who said over and over that Harry was worth the effort. Kurt, who kept his secrets and never demanded more than Harry could give. Kurt, who believed in Harry and accepted Harry despite everything... even faster than Ron and Hermione had. Kurt, who said he loved Harry without reservation. He'd be horrified, if he were here, knowing I was thinking like this. I can't – I have to try – I have got to try to let go of this, but I don't know if I can…

Harry still cried. He wept his grief into the pillow clutched in his hands for the father he'd almost had and the great man the world had lost - it really seemed like Remus was just gone, now - but he let his guilt and shame bleed out with his tears. For Kurt's sake.

By the time he'd cried all he could cry it was around lunchtime. He stopped in the bathroom before going downstairs to splash water on his face, sighing a little when he saw how pale he was and how red his eyes were - I actually looked better this morning, isn't this just lovely - before slowly making his way down the stairs. Hermione and Ron's voices were drifting from the kitchen, and as he snuck forward he could hear what they were saying.

"No, Ronald, we're not going to put crisps on our sandwiches. We're having ham and cheese or chicken or something vaguely healthy like that, because we're not 12. Can you at least pretend to be an adult?"

"Aww, come on, 'Mione. Finn showed me how to make Pringle-and-Nutella sandwiches the other day, they're brilliant! And Burt said we could use anything in the fridge or cupboard."

"I don't care, it's disgusting! Look, they mayonnaise, don't you like chicken and mayonnaise sandwiches?"

"Only when my mum makes them, she uses home-made mayonnaise."

"She does make good mayonnaise. I really must get the recipe."

"I'll butter her up for you. If you let me make my sandwich, that is."

There was a deep sigh, followed by a put upon, "Fine. But you are not making one for Harry too. He needs nutrition, not... whatever that is."

"You're such a buzzkill, Hermione."

Harry stifled his laughter in his hands as he watched them for a moment through the kitchen doorway. They were pottering around one another like an old married couple, bickering and shooting one another warm, amused smiles when the other wasn't looking. If he didn't know them so well he'd have thought they were in love, but he knew better. They were just family. His family.

"What if I want a crisp and Nutella sandwich?" he quipped from the doorway, leaning against it and looking at them with bashful eyes. Ron and Hermione looked over at him at the same time, their smiles warm and inviting when they saw the contentment on his face. Hermione carefully arranged her expression to mild disapproval at his words, but the happy glint in her eyes gave her away.

"If you want to eat that monstrosity be my guest," the witch sniffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "But I will force feed you salad afterwards. That thing has about as much nutritional value as lard on toast."

"I think I might stick with ham, then," Harry grinned as Ron defiantly added another layer of the thick chocolaty spread on top of his crisps. As the smaller boy made his way over to the fridge he stopped to pull Hermione into a brief hug, accepting the kiss on the head gratefully. He whispered to her as he pulled back, looking up into her eyes with a smile. "Thank you for giving me space and letting me cry. I really needed it, I think."

"Whatever you need, sweetness," she whispered back with a grin, her smile fading into a look of dismay at something over Harry's shoulder. "Ronald, you are not putting sprinkles on that thing too, surely?"

"Sprinkles improve everything," was Ron's arch reply, and Hermione scurried over to try and wrestle the little shaker out of his hands. Harry just laughed a little and went to the fridge, determinedly not thinking about Remus or guilt or anything. He'd cried enough; now he was just going to enjoy his afternoon with his family.

When they'd finally made their sandwiches they sat on the couch to eat them, Ron cheerfully turning on the TV to a music station with the usual assortment of barely clothed women. Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him, turning instead to face Harry.

"We may have to replace all the food Ron added to that sandwich," the witch sighed, rolling her eyes in disgust as Ron took a pointedly large bite behind Harry. Harry nodded seriously.

"Don't worry, I will. I already plan to pay them back for all the money they've spent on me in the last week."

"We already offered, mate, they said no way," Ron mumbled around his mouthful, nudging Harry with his elbow as Hermione nodded.

"It's true. We said we'd pay for whatever you'd needed and used but Mr Hummel said he wouldn't accept a cent," Hermione balanced her plate on her knee in order to pat Harry on the knee as he shifted uncomfortably. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart, you weren't exactly eating much. We'll just replace all of that chocolate stuff Ron's used today and a few more tubes of Pringles - "

"And another packet of sprinkles," Ron added, mouth still full of chocolate. "And some crackers."

"You're disgusting," Hermione informed him seriously, her nose wrinkling a little as she looked away. "Disgusting, Ronald Bilius Weasley. Harry, how's your sandwich?"

"It's fine," he smiled at her as he took a little bite, making sure he'd swallowed before he spoke again. "I don't have much of an appetite, but it's fine."

"Well, eat up. You're much too thin," Hermione raised an eyebrow as Ron suddenly perked up and looked around frantically before relaxing just as suddenly. "Something the matter, Ron?"

"Oh, nothing. I just could have sworn I heard my mum for a second there," he smiled sweetly at Hermione's annoyed huff, and Harry sunk down in between them with a snicker. "I guess I must have been imagining things, right Harry? No one in here sounds like my mum."

"Don't drag me into this, I'm just eating my lunch."

Eventually they managed to finish their meals, in between jokes and playful arguments, and Harry urged them both to sit as he cleared up their plates. Their well-practiced bickering created a soothing soundtrack as he pottered around the kitchen, slipping the plates into the dishwasher and wiping down the benches. It was comfortingly domestic. It reminded him of that day he'd spent with Kurt the week before - or is it two weeks? God I'm confused- not thinking, not worrying, just being together.

But there's plenty to worry about, Harry conceded as he leant against a bench, sighing and pinching his nose to ward off the headache creeping at his skull. Hermione needs to go home as soon as possible, and I still don't know where I'm going to live, and Remus...

Harry blinked back tears with a scowl, gripping the edge of the bench in one hand as the bad feelings he'd been holding back welled in his chest. No. No more crying. I can't keep falling apart, I just need to stop falling apart like this.

"Doin' all right, mate?"

Ron's soft voice broke Harry out of his thoughts, and the smaller wizard turned to look at his friend. Ron was hovering in the doorway, staring down at Harry with sad eyes and a weirdly solemn look on his freckled face. Harry smiled weakly, trying to hide the tremor in his hands by folding his arms resolutely over his chest.

"'mfine," Harry muttered, forcing out a little laugh as he turned back to look out the kitchen window. "I'm just - I'm really sick of crying all the time."

"Yeah," Ron agreed easily, coming up behind Harry to drop a hand on his shoulder. He didn't say anything more, just standing with Harry as the other boy got his composure. Harry took a few deep breaths, looking up until his eyes dried, and shook his head.

"Do you think he's really done it?" he asked softly, not looking up at Ron. "Do you think he really killed someone?"

"Honestly?" Ron let out a long sigh, his voice as earnest and matter-of-fact as Harry had known it would be. "I think it's probably equally likely that he didn't. We really have no way of knowing. I mean, could he have? Yeah, obviously. Crazy werewolf roaming free, that's a disaster waiting to happen. But he could just as easily have imagined it."

"If he has-" Harry began. Ron cut him off, squeezing his shoulder firmly.

"If he has then it is nobodies' fault but his."

"If he has," Harry began again, twisting under Ron's arm to look up at his friend's face. "I need you to help me do something."

Ron nodded easily, not hesitating for a second. Harry took a deep breath, "If whoever it was - if they have a family... I want to help them. I know I can't meet them or anything, but... Merlin, Ron, what if it was a father? Or a mother? I have to do something."

"I'll help you track them down," Ron agreed easily, looking back out the window. "And help you do whatever. You know I'll help, mate. But you don't need to do that. It's not your responsibility-"

"I know," Harry interrupted, looking down his folded arms. "I know but - I'll feel better if I do."

"All right," Ron clapped Harry on the back enthusiastically. "No worries. That shouldn't be hard. Hey, did Hermione tell you that she has to leave?"

"Yeah, I meant to talk to her about that, actually," Harry looked over his shoulder at the doorway to the living room. He could faintly hear the TV changing channels and Hermione's disgusted mutterings on what she was seeing. "I was thinking maybe she could leave tomorrow, that will give her all the time she needs, right? We'll be fine here."

"Sure," Ron shrugged, gesturing Harry towards the door and beginning to wander out. "I can stay another week at least, so we're not bailing on you at once."

"Just go whenever you need to," Harry protested, smiling a little when he got to the door as saw Hermione glued to the History Channel. "You don't need to put yourself out for me anymore than you already have."

"It's fine, mate. I have about a fortnight before I get my exam results anyway," Ron looked a little ill at the thought of getting his results, and Harry gave him a pat on the back.

"You were studying like mad, I'm sure you did fine. Right, Hermione?"

"If he doesn't, the thing was rigged," Hermione agreed distractedly, squinting at the ruins on screen. "He spent more time worrying and studying for those exams than I did for my OWLs."

"Hermione, no one has ever, or will ever, study more for anything than you did for your OWLs," Ron rolled his eyes, but even as Harry stifled a snicker into his hand Hermione was shaking her head.

"He wrote terms and definitions he needed to remember on his ceiling so he'd absorb them while he was trying to sleep," the witch informed Harry, holding Ron's arm back as he tried to cover her mouth with his hand. "And he charmed the tiles in the shower to act like flash cards. To be honest, I wish I'd been that clever about studying when I was at school. It was kind of ingenious."

"Kind of mental, more like," Harry mumbled, laughing at Ron's indignant, 'Oi!' and catching Hermione's arm. "I actually wanted to talk to you about when you want to leave."

Hermione hesitated, biting her lip, "...are you sure you're still okay with me going? I mean, with this news about Remus..."

"I'm sure," Harry said firmly, his mouth pinching a little at the reminder. "You've worked too hard to lose now. Ron's sticking around, and I've got everyone here. It'll be fine. You could leave tomorrow if you wanted to."

"I want to see Puck before I go," Hermione admitted, smiling a little. "Do you think he'll want to see me-?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed immediately, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Hermione, I don't know what you did to that boy - and I don't want to know, by the way - but he's completely infatuated with you. Every time we talk he's all, 'Yeah, but seriously, dude, has she mentioned me at all? Even a little?'"

"Oh, be nice," Hermione huffed at Harry's fairly accurate imitation. "It's kind of sweet. I just wish he'd told me how he felt; I hadn't even considered it as anything more than physical. I didn't realize... he never said anything like that in his text messages or on the phone."

"He just pined away for you from afar. Hermione, you heartbreaker," Ron shook his head with faux-disappointment. "Leading that poor boy on like that, using him for sex..."

"I thought that's all he wanted! Leave me alone," the witch protested, grabbing a pillow off the couch to smack Ron across the face with. "Anyway, how about I leave on Sunday? That gives me today and tomorrow to see Puck and do anything else you need me to do."

"Whatever works best for you," Harry agreed with a nod, nodding at the laptop she'd left on the coffee table. "You'll just need to book your flights."

"I hope I can find some discounted tickets..." Hermione mumbled as she reached for the computer, not noticing Harry freezing up behind her. "Though at this late stage it's unlikely..."

"You don't need to get discounted tickets because I'm paying for it, right?" Harry looked between Ron and Hermione suspiciously, frowning. "You've been using the money from my account to visit me, right?"

Ron and Hermione shared a sheepish look and Harry threw up his hands, "You're both impossible! You've been using your own money for this? Why?"

"Mate, come on, we don't want to rely on you for everything. That's your family's money," Ron protested. Harry shook his head.

"You're right, it is my family's money. And you guys are my family, so it's your money too."

"Harry..." Hermione trailed off as Harry took the laptop from her hands, determinedly tapping flights to Londoninto Google with two fingers.

"I know I can't convince you guys to accept too much from me, and that's fine, but if you're coming to visit me at least use my money and fly first-class. For my sake - if I'm going to be dragging you out to the arse-end of Nowhere I want you to be comfortable at least."

"All right, fair enough," Hermione agreed reluctantly, taking the laptop off of Harry. "I'll fly first-class, all the add-ons. Will that make you happy?"

"Thank you," Harry relaxed back against the couch. At Ron's amused look Harry stuck out his tongue. "Oh shut up, I don't get bossy about much but if you two are going to be stupidly sacrificing, I'm going to step in."

"Because you're never stupidly self-sacrificing," Ron snorted. Harry just flipped him the bird.

Hermione began tapping away at the laptop and Ron surreptitiously turned the TV back on, and Harry sighed a little and sunk back in between them. His bones felt like lead; this day had been dragging on forever. Thinking about Remus, the not-knowing what was going to happen, what had happened, what would happen to Remus or Harry or what was going on... Harry's throat felt uncomfortably tight, and he dug his nails into his legs. Ron and Hermione were bickering again, this time over the TV channel, but even the familiar sound of their voices couldn't pull him out of his head. His distraction was gone and it seemed that right now distractions were his only hope of getting through the day. He pulled his knees up under his chin, burying his face against them and wrapping his arms around his legs. He heard the conversation around him falter, but he shook his head a little and whispered, "I'm fine. Just... keep talking."

"All right," Hermione agreed after a moment's hesitation, placing a hand faux-casually on Harry's back. "As I was saying... this music is terrible, Ron, why would you want to watch the videos?"

"Hey, if I thought I could get away with turning the sound off and just watching the dancers I would," Ron joked back, and the argument resumed. Harry tried to focus on it, tried to quiet the little voices in his head that never really went away - it's all my fault, I should have helped him- but all he could really do was sit and wait for the worst of the feeling to pass.

Harry kept sitting like that, with Hermione's arm loosely around his back, until Burt came home about half an hour later. Harry could vaguely hear the man pause in the doorway before making his way cautiously inside. Harry tried to force himself to look up at him, but the anxiousness twisting at his insides almost choked him as soon as he did. He buried his face back into his arms on his knees and just listened.

"So how's the morning been, then?" Burt's voice was just a little dry, a little droll, and Hermione sighed.

"Well..."

"Is there anything I can do?" Burt asked when she trailed off, and Harry felt Hermione shift next to him.

"He was doing pretty well until... well, we got word from the people looking for... Remus."

"Oh," Burt was quiet for a moment, and Harry could almost feel the curiosity and rage dripping from his words. "And?"

"He's been placed in a psychiatric ward a few states away," Hermione answered slowly, and she began to rub soothing circles over Harry's back as a shudder ran through him. "They're not sure how he got there. And there's some concern that he may have..."

She hesitated again, and a flicker of grief rose in Harry's chest again, briefly overriding the fear clouding his eyes. He raised his head just enough to whisper out the rest of the story, "They said he might have killed someone."

"Jesus Christ," Burt swore under his breath as Hermione's hand stilled on Harry's back. There were thumping footsteps around the couch until Harry heard Burt collapse onto the matching chair nearby. "Jesus Christ. Are you - how do they know?"

"We have no details yet, it might be a hallucination he's having," Hermione rushed to clarify, tightening her arm around Harry when he started shivering. "But obviously it's rather upset Harry..."

"Slight understatement there, 'Mione," Ron muttered at Harry's bitter snort. Harry shook his head, still looking at his arms.

"I'm all right on and off," he murmured, rubbing a hand over his eye under his glasses with clumsy fingers. "I was upset and then I was fine and then I just got scared for no reason..."

"We've discussed this, mate, you're allowed to be all over the place right now," Ron nudged Harry's foot with one big hand, smiling his usually lopsided smile at Harry's annoyed huff. Harry could feel Hermione practically vibrating, and even though he didn't look up he knew she would be nodding her head frantically.

"He's right, and I know you're sick of hearing this, sweetheart, and I know you must be unbearably frustrated, but just give it time."

"That's what I'm doing," Harry grumbled, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "And I plan to continue to sit here, like this, giving myself time, until I stop wanting to hide under the coffee table."

"Right, you do that," Hermione patted his back again and shifted, presumably so she could talk to Burt. "Did you want the TV, Burt? We're not really watching it, and one of us can easily move."

"I was gonna have a shower, actually," Burt mumbled around a yawn, and Harry heard him drag himself to his feet. "We had a big shipment of parts 'nd crap come in today, had to unload the truck, so I'm covered in sweat as well as oil. Harry, no telling Kurt I did that kinda heavy lifting, yeah?"

Harry raised one of his hands from where they were still clasped around his knees to give Burt an affirmative high-five, and the man chuckled.

"'atta boy."

Ron and Hermione settled back as Burt's footsteps faded up the stairs, and Harry tightened his grip on his legs.

"You should send him one of those word messages," Ron whispered over his head. Harry could almost hear Hermione's eye-roll as she shifted.

"It's called a text message, Ron, and who should I be texting?"

"Puck, you dunce. Come on, you should see if you can see him tonight."

"What makes you think I even want to, Ronald?"

"The fact that you keep looking at your little phone, Hermione. Admit it, you like him."

"He's good in bed. And nice enough, I guess."

"I'm not a complete idiot, Hermione-"

"Really? When did that change?"

"Oi! Be nice. And even I've noticed that ever since he called you about Harry you blush whenever he comes up."

"Well, if you've noticed-"

"Hermione. Seriously. Text message him. Don't you think she should, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip to keep his snicker at bay as his friends' bantering began to sooth his frazzled nerves again. He worked up the courage to look up from his knees and smiled at Hermione as strongly as he could, "You should, 'Mione. He's been asking after you."

"You think I should?" Hermione bit her lip and looked over to her phone on the coffee table. Harry shifted uncomfortably when the witch rose slowly to grab it, not liking how exposed he suddenly felt, but he relaxed marginally when she sat back down. He curled up against her side automatically, and she slid one arm around him while she unlocked her phone with her other hand. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to ask if he wants to do dinner or something..."

"How come you listened to Harry's suggestion and not mine?" Ron protested, sliding over so he was right next to Harry and could see the screen of Hermione's phone. Hermione snorted as her thumb danced across the screen.

"I don't know, Ronald, maybe because he's actually managed to date someone at some point in his life? Which is more than you can say?"

"Ouch, Hermione," Ron pouted and Harry couldn't help the little laugh that bubbled up in his chest. It burst out from him a little hysterically, and when his friends turned to look at him he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, I just - I love you guys so much," Harry smiled against his arms, looking up at Ron and Hermione through his eyelashes. They both smiled back, Hermione looking a little sheepish as she went back to her phone as it buzzed.

"We love you too, you know," Ron nudged Harry again, this time with his arm. He nodded towards Hermione as Harry relaxed against his side. "Even Hermione, who's too busy sending sexy messages and setting up a snog to answer."

"Harry, I love you too. You know I love you too. Ron, shut up. And, 'Hi Puck, this is Hermione. Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?' is not a sexy message," Hermione grumbled, squinting at her screen. "Merlin, I wish he wouldn't use this texting language, it takes me forever to work out what he means."

"Let me see?" Harry suggested, holding out a hand. "Kurt uses proper English when he texts, but few of my other friends do. I'm pretty good at interpreting it now."

Hermione handed over the phone and smiled at Harry's relaxing posture, "You're feeling a little better, love?"

"I'm fine as long as I'm distracted," Harry muttered, slowly reading through Puck's text. Snds gd... Good grief, does he know what a vowel is? "It's when I'm not occupied that I start getting... yeah. Crazy and scared and such. I think it says, 'Hey, sounds good. Want me to pick you up from Harry's house at 7?'"

"Thank you, that's what I thought it said," Hermione took the phone back with a gentle sigh, and she leaned down to press a kiss to Harry's forehead before beginning to text Puck back. "It's not surprising that you're a little fragile, Harry. You're doing sowell as it is, but it's going to take time and work before that stops happening."

"I know, I know I know I know, I'm just sick of it already," Harry buried his face back into his arms, blinking back tears once again. "I want to feel okay again."

"You will," Ron's big arm snaked around Harry's shoulder and pulled him tightly against his side. "I mean, I thought I'd never be able to see water fountains again without crying after last year, but now I can."

"Yeah, you never did explain that particular reaction," Harry looked up again with exasperation. Ron's short-lived fountain phobia had been a source of great curiosity for both Hermione and Harry for six months; neither of them could remember so much as seeing a fountain during any of the battles they'd fought in. Ron was shaking his head.

"And I never will, mate. I never bloody will."

A door slamming upstairs make all three magical teens jump, and Harry ducked his head against Ron's side as footsteps approached and fear began to suffocate him.

"It's all right, sweetness, it's just Burt coming downstairs," Hermione soothed him, trailing a hand down Harry's back. Harry shuddered against Ron's side and nodded.

"I know, just - give me a minute," he mumbled into Ron's side, and he couldn't help but tense when the footsteps entered the room.

"How's it goin', kids?" Burt's rough voice seemed loud after the quiet conversations the three teens had been having. Ron was the one who answered him, his voice easily casual as if he didn't have Harry cowering against his side.

"Eh, not bad. Hermione managed to get herself a date."

Harry heard the thump of Hermione punching Ron's arm next to him, and couldn't help but smile a little at the sheepishness in her voice, "Just with Puck, Ronald, whom I was already dating. It's not like I was wooing men at the window or something."

"That's nice. Where's he takin' you?" Burt walked over to his armchair again, dropping into it with a relieved sigh. Hermione looked back at her phone with a little frown.

"A place named... Le Beau? French, I guess."

"Le Beau, geez, that's the fanciest place in town," Burt raised his eyebrows, nodding to Harry. "That's where little rich boy over there took Kurt for their one-month anniversary."

"One-month-aversary," Harry corrected automatically, nearly in unison with Hermione. He rolled his eyes as Hermione blushed, lifting his head from Ron's chest to explain to Burt. "Hermione's always been super pedantic about this; an 'anniversary' is by definition a year, because it's annual. If it's less than that, it's not 'ann', it's just a, 'iversary'. Or so Hermione insisted when we were twelve. But you're right about Le Beau - it's really expensive for Lima. I told you Puck was really into you."

"I didn't know!" Hermione protested, looking down at her phone with dismay. "If I'd known I would have paid him more attention..."

"You'd better dress up real nice for that place," Burt rolled his eyes, reaching for a magazine on the side table next to him. "They won't let anyone in anyone in blue jeans in - trust me."

There was a long pause, before Hermione spoke again, eyes wide, "But I didn't bring anything nice... I was in such a rush, I just threw in a few pairs of jeans and a bunch of jumpers. I don't even know if I have any other shoes than my sneakers. What am I meant to-?"

"Hermione. Go shopping," Harry sat up, ignoring the little thrill of fear that went through him when he was no longer tucked against Ron. At Hermione's grimace Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know you hate shopping as much as I used to, but it's really not so bad."

"Yes it is," Hermione grumbled, looking down at her simple tank top and cardigan sadly. "It means I have to look at all these clothes that they don't make for girls of human proportions and shoes that I couldn't walk in if my life depended on it... Why can't I just wear a pair of your black pants or something?"

"Because your legs are longer than mine, and you want to look nice for Puck anyway," Harry shared a brief amused look with Burt and Ron at Hermione's put upon pout, and shook his head. "Didn't you get on my case for making an effort with Kurt? Look, there's a small department store not so far away. It's not classy, but it'll do in a pinch. Take my credit card and text Kurt, ask him what he thinks you should wear and just find something that matches his ideas."

"You're being irritatingly logical," Hermione huffed, glaring at the snickering Ron over Harry's head. Harry smiled and rose up a little to press a smacking kiss to her cheek.

"That's because someone has to be the level-headed one, and when it comes to this sort of thing you can't seem to do that anymore," Harry grinned sweetly at her, pointing to her phone. "Do it. Text him. Then go and shop. It'll take half an hour and you'll have plenty of time to dissect another computer or learn a new language or do whatever you want to do."

"Oh, fine," Hermione sank down against the couch, tapping at her phone again with a pout. "I should make an effort for Puck, since he's taking me out somewhere so nice. But if Kurt tries to put me in something with ruffles..."

"I'm sure he knows you well enough to avoid ruffles," Harry assured her, crossing his fingers where Hermione couldn't see; when it came to what was fashionable, Kurt did have a kind of tunnel vision. The look Burt was giving him indicated that he know about that particular trait of Kurt's too.

"You feeling better, kiddo?" Burt asked quietly as Hermione scowled at her phone. Harry shrugged, digging his nails into his thighs to try and keep the ever-present panic down.

"I'm fine as long as I'm distracted," Harry looked at the still closed living room curtains with a faint frown, flinching slightly as faint, far-off movement behind it registered. "When I'm not distracted I'm still - you know. Insane."

"Anxious," Hermione corrected firmly, elbowing Harry hard in the side without looking up from her phone. "And your anxiety makes you liable to panic. You are not insane, Harry James Potter, and if you insist on saying you are I will beat you with a pillow until you capitulate. Understood?"

"Yes, Hermione," Harry agreed quickly, holding onto the spot she'd elbowed gingerly. She glanced over with a worried frown.

"I didn't hit a bruise, did I?" she murmured, and Harry shook his head.

"Nope, missed them. It's fine."

"If you want a distraction I could always grab your homework from Kurt's room, kid," Burt interjected, moving to get out of his chair. Harry nodded thoughtfully, forcing a grateful smile.

"That would actually be really great, considering Ron and Hermione will have to go in a little while."

When Ron shot him a confused look Harry rolled his eyes, "Hermione needs to go shopping and she drove you here. You know she's going to be too frazzled to pick you up later."

"Oh yeah," Ron frowned a little, looking at little put out as Hermione stared worriedly at her phone. "Yeah, that's a good point. Hermione?"

Hermione tapped at her phone frantically, huffing in frustration as her fingers fumbled on the screen. Ron rolled his eyes and Harry leaned back, out of the line of fire. Ron cupped a hand around his mouth and began to call, "Oi! Granger!"

"What, Ronald?" Hermione snarled back, glaring at him over her phone. Harry could see Burt chuckling at them from across the room and rolled his eyes with a grin. If there's one thing I can count on, it's that Ron and Hermione could argue over something they agree on.

"How long are you going to need to get ready for your love-in?" Hermione pursed her lips at Ron's somewhat dry tone, and looked thoughtful.

"Well, I'll need at least an hour to shop - Kurt's list of what I should wear was rather specific - and I need to shower, and wrestle with my hair, and - oh, I'll need make up, too..."

"You're dropping me off at the house before you go on this shopping trip," Ron informed her flatly, and Harry couldn't keep in his laugh. Burt was still chuckling as he wandered back out of the room, muttering about, "Just gonna grab that stuff, be back..."

"So you're going to need a lot of time, in other words," Harry spoke up, slowly sliding his legs down so his feet hit the floor. He focused on Hermione, trying hard to ignore the fear tingling down his legs, making him want to pull up his legs and curl up again. "What did Kurt suggest?"

Hermione raised her phone and tapped the screen, taking a deep breath before she began, "Let's see... 'a dress, knee length at least. Either blue or black, and something that shows off your arms, but wear a shawl to make it more modest. Stappy shoes, in a bright colour. Silver jewelry, maybe bangles.' There are over 10 messages. I have no idea how he types so fast."

"Nor do I," Harry smiled a little at Hermione's pout. "But now you know what you need to get, right?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed begrudgingly, shooting a nervous glance at the stairs before whispering. "I don't see why I can't just Transfigure something, though."

"Because the last time you tried to transfigure a nice dress for yourself it turned back into a shirt half-way through the evening," Ron whispered back, smirking at Hermione's glare. "And while no-one else minded the sudden strip-tease, you seemed to."

"I thought I told you never to bring that up again," Hermione grumbled. "Okay, so I've never managed to Transfigure anything more complicated than a shirt in the past, but I-"

"Hermione, just go shopping," Harry shook his head as Burt came back into the room, looking with some relief at the pile of books and papers in his arms. That'll keep me busy for a while. Never thought I'd be glad to have homework."Thank you for that, Burt."

"No worries, kiddo," Burt dumped the papers on the coffee table. "You two better get going, you sound like you got a big afternoon planned."

"Yes, you're right," Hermione jumped to her feet, shooting Harry an apologetic look when Harry flinched at the sudden movement. "Come on, Ron, we need to get our stuff together."

"But it's only, like, half past two in the afternoon, and he's not picking you up until seven. Surely you won't need five hours to get ready," Ron protested as Hermione dragged him to his feet, shooting Burt and Harry bemused looks as she suddenly darted up the stairs. "I thought we'd leave in an hour or two."

"No! That's not enough time!" Hermione shouted back down, and Harry nodded knowingly, thinking back to all the times Kurt had kept him waiting before their dates.

"It's true. With all the instructions Kurt's given her she'll need maybe two hours to shop, then showering, doing her hair, make up... Kurt spent three and a half hours just picking his clothes when I took him to Le Beau," Harry shook his head and reached for one of his textbooks on the coffee table, eager to begin distracting himself. He caught sight of Ron's gobsmacked look and shrugged, smiling wryly. "I don't get it either, mate, but I got used to it."

"Bloody mental," Ron rolled his eyes and shuffled towards the kitchen. "I guess I should make a few more phone calls before the weekend. Right, I'll go grab my stuff then. Burt, we used up a few of your things - the Nutella, the Pringles and your sprinkles - so I'll get you some more tomorrow, sorry about that."

"What Ron means is that HE used up all those things, because he's a pig," Hermione added archly as she flew down the stairs, a bag Harry hadn't noticed her carry up there safely in her arms. She hurried forward to squeeze Harry's shoulder with her free hand before snatching up her laptop from the coffee table. "Sorry to run out on you like this, sweetheart."

"No, it's good. Go have fun," Harry placed his hand on top of hers and smiled up at her. "Just - if you hear any more from Neville and Luna..."

"You'll be the first to know," Hermione promised, bending down over the back of the couch to kiss Harry's cheek. She started bellowing while she straightened, not noticing how Harry had to cover his ears. "Ronald! Hurry up! Kurt's now saying that I need a specific shade of blue and I have no idea if I'm going to be able to find it!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Ron grumbled as he came back into the room, the last two laptops that hadn't been packed away before lunch tucked under his arm. "Merlin's beard, woman, don't get your knickers in a twist."

"Don't be crude, Ronald," Hermione scolded him as they walked to the door, waving at Harry and Burt and Ron pausing to ruffle Harry's hair. "Good bye, you two. See you tomorrow, Harry."

"See you then. Have fun, Hermione!" Harry called after them, and Burt chuckled from his chair.

"Yeah, see you kids," Burt was shaking his head when Harry turned back around to face him. "Harry, I like your family, but they're a little bit crazy."

"It's true," Harry agree, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. With Ron and Hermione gone he felt painfully exposed and vulnerable. The tight ball of anxiety that they'd eased began to tighten in his chest again, and he tucked his legs back up under his chin without thinking about it. Burt went still, looking at him cautiously.

"Everythin' okay there, kiddo?" the man asked cautiously, fixing his ever-present cap on his head and leaning forward. Harry forced a smile and a shrug, trying hard to ignore the trembling that had started in his leg.

"It's just been a really long day," the teenager forced out a laugh, forcing back the jiggling in his leg. It started up again a moment later and he let out a frustrated breath. Burt nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I bet. What's getting you down?" Burt leaned back casually, reaching for the paper he'd left there this morning, letting Harry decide whether or not they spoke. I could honestly not be fonder of this man.

"It's just so hard," Harry admitted after a moment. "There's so much I should be doing, and I should be okay - I shouldn't feel like this, I should have to feel like this, and I feel guilty about feeling so scared and being so useless but it's also so unfair because it's - it's really not my fault that I'm so screwed up, and it's so unfair that I'm making you all deal with this because other people made me deal with it and I couldn't take it and I just kind of want to cry and scream but I'm so sick of looking like a mental person in front of people. I just want to curl up, on my own, and cry for about an hour but I shouldn't be so... I don't know. Self-indulgent? I don't know. I'm sorry."

Harry's shoulders slumped as he ran out of steam, and he looked at his knees broodingly, blinking back tears for the millionth time. There was a pause before Burt put down his paper and got to his feet and lumbered over to Harry's side. Harry looked up at him with bleary eyes, opening his mouth to apologise for his word vomit, but Burt raised a hand to stop him. The man reached forward and took Harry's glasses off his nose, placing them gently on the coffee table, before grabbing the pillow Kurt had left on of the shelf under the table for him to sleep on and placing it in Harry's arms. At Harry's confused, unfocused look, Burt patted his hair affectionately.

"Harry, no one in the world would begrudge you needing to cry right now. Feel absolutely free. Cry. Scream into that pillow until your voice goes. You don't want an audience, that's fine. I could use a nap, I'll just be upstairs if you need me. But let it all out, kiddo. That crap will eat you alive if you let it."

The first tear surprised Harry, slipping down his face and onto the pillow in a hot trail before he knew what was happening. Then he was burying his face into the soft fabric in his hands, letting the sobs and cries muffle themselves even as they rocked through him. He didn't hear Burt leave but he could sense that he was alone again, and the privacy was very welcome. He let himself scream his hurt into the pillow, sob with grief and guilt against it, and with every sound and tear the pain that constantly throbbed in his mind eased very slightly.

Remus... how could he how could I why didn't I it's done, it's over and what can I do I don't want to I just want to sleep and everything to be okay and I don't know what I'm going to do, I'm so tired, I'm so over it, I just just just want...