Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.

Sticks, Stones and Broken Bones

Chapter 20: Home, Sweet Home

As the storm raged wildly outside the window of Ron's cramped and starkly orange bedroom, Harry took a deep, steadying breath, and finally allowed himself to relax, revelling in the wonderful knowledge that he was completely protected from the wild elements now. He was tucked up in bed - warm, fed and watered - and had the comfort of knowing that Ron was snoring soundly across the room, and that the rest of the Weasleys were only a shout away if he needed them. Despite his exhaustion, and the faint lingering pain in his ankle, Harry smiled to himself as he burrowed deeper in the mountain of pillows and blankets that Mrs Weasley had tucked around him when she has seen him off to bed.

He was safe.

He'd briefly entertained the idea that Mr and Mrs Weasley would be mad at him for dragging Ron into the mess with Wormtail, but he should have known better. He should have known them better. Because as soon as he and Ron had arrived back at the Burrow - battered, bruised, hungry, and scared - Mrs Weasley had pulled both of them into a tight, emotional hug, holding them as if it would physically pain her to let go. Then Mr Weasley had asked them repeatedly if they were okay, his voice breaking a little more each time he spoke as he held on to their arms, gently, as if he was scared they would disappear any minute.

And then the rest of the Weasley family had arrived in the kitchen, and the cheering and whooping, the tears and the relief that had ensued would stay with Harry for a very long time.

Even Bill, the eldest Weasley sibling, had sat boneless in the kitchen chair, breathing heavily, with utter relief plastered across his face. He'd smiled at Harry, turning the relief towards him, and Harry remembered feeling both confused and amazed all at once; because Bill had never met him before today, but was still relieved he was okay. It didn't make sense to him, and at any other time, he might have brooded over it for hours, but for once, Harry decided he would worry about it another day. For now, he was just happy to be happy.

Merlin, he loved the Weasleys.

Harry smiled again, and finally closed his eyes, content to lie in bed, listening to the rhythmic pattering of the rain on the windows, safe in the knowledge that everything was okay. They had survived.

He were home.

"So how you doing, lad?" Aberforth asked gruffly, blinking in the midday sun. Last night's storm had passed quickly, and dawn had broken with clear, blue skies. Despite Aberforth's reservations about doing too much too soon, Harry had insisted that they had to make the most of the good weather whilst they could, and had been eager to spend time with the goats.

Rather than pushing it, Aberforth had decided to trust Harry to know his own limits. Besides, the old barkeeper thought with a small smile, it would probably be good for the boy. Aberforth reckoned it was because goats didn't judge you; they didn't care if you were scared, traumatised, or simply not okay. All they wanted was attention and food. It was simple, reassuring.

It was something Aberforth knew a lot about himself. Truthfully, it was why Aberforth had "adopted" the goats in the first place…

"I'm fine," Harry murmured as he absently stroked Brian. The boy seemed peaceful, outwardly calm, but Aberforth detected an undercurrent of something that troubled him, something that meant Harry was not nearly as okay as he wanted to seem.

Aberforth frowned. "Harry…"

Harry didn't lift his eyes from the goat. "Really, it wasn't that bad."

Unfortunately, Aberforth knew for a fact that it had been "that bad". According to the Weasleys' youngest boy - who had given a very detailed account of the whole experience - those four days on the street had been anything but fine. Aberforth knew he couldn't push the issue with Harry though. Harry would talk when he was good and ready, and not a moment sooner…

"She hugged me," Harry muttered, though he refused to raise his head.

Aberforth couldn't help the surprise that flittered across his face at Harry's unprompted confession, but he hid it quickly. "Who did?"

"Mrs Weasley," Harry replied, brow furrowed in confusion, clearly struggling to find the right words to describe what was bothering him. Aberforth was quite happy to give him all the time he needed though; in fact, he was proud that the boy was even making the effort to talk to him, and he would wait a lifetime for Harry speak if necessary.

"When we first got back after...well, you know," Harry continued after a moment or two. "She...she hugged me."

Aberforth frowned, but didn't voice his immediate and instinctive thought, and instead tried to see the situation from Harry's point of view; from the point of view of a traumatised boy who, through no fault of his own, just didn't understand what the word 'family' really meant…

"I understand why she hugged Ron," Harry continued uncertainly. "But why me? I'm not her son."

"She's hugged you before," Aberforth pointed out gruffly, feeding Brian as he talked to help put Harry at ease a little bit. The boy seemed a little more skittish that he had been before they'd been taken, and he couldn't help but feel that some of the progress that they'd made on Harry's birthday had been erased in the last couple of days. Which reminded him...

"Actually, if I remember rightly," Aberforth continued quietly. "You were the one who hugged Mrs Weasley. At your birthday party, wasn't it?"

"That was before…" Harry gestured away from himself and towards the street, obviously referencing the whole debacle with Wormtail. Aberforth frowned again, but this time not in confusion. Almost immediately, realisation hit…

"You thought she wouldn't want you anymore," Aberforth said with a heavy sigh.

"Not exactly," Harry replied quietly. "I just…it was my fault. If it wasn't for me, Wormtail would never have kidnapped Ron."

"If it wasn't for you, Ron might not have been alive and well enough to be kidnapped," Aberforth retorted. "You can't play the 'what if' game, Harry."

"Even so, it doesn't make sense," Harry continued with a mumble.

"Why not?" Aberforth asked, saddened by Harry's comment. "She cares about you."

"But why?"

"Because that's what families do," Aberforth replied simply.

"Even when I get her son kidnapped," Harry retorted bitterly.

"You didn't get him kidnapped," Aberforth replied, his voice quiet but firm. "If anything, you saved him, and kept him alive on the streets long enough for us to find you both."

Almost immediately, Aberforth could sense an argument brewing in Harry, and he decided this time to head it off.

"Even so, you're her son now too," Aberforth pointed out.

Harry frowned. "Not by blood."

Aberforth's own frown deepened. "There's more to family than blood, lad. I know that better than anyone. I know you haven't experienced much in the way of real family life, and that's not your fault, but the Weasleys are your family now, and that means that they love you. No matter what."

Harry seemed a little overwhelmed by that thought, so instead of pushing it, Aberforth sighed slightly as he ran a hand through his beard, and decided to change the subject to less difficult territory. He would let Harry think over what he'd said without pushing the boy too hard. Hopefully, over time, some of these ideas would begin to sink in, and he would finally be able to accept his new life.

"Arthur tells me you're going to start your schooling soon," Aberforth began casually.

"Erm...Not at Hogwarts, but yeah," Harry replied quietly. If he was confused by the rather abrupt change in conversation, he didn't show it.

"You don't sound too excited," Aberforth couldn't help but point out.

Harry sighed as he began to wring his hands nervously. The calm boy from before was well and truly gone now, replaced with a boy who seemed to be so tightly wound that he looked as if he might spring up and shoot away at any moment.

"It's not that…I really do want to learn magic…it's just…" Harry paused as he tried to formulate the words he wanted to get out. After spending so much of his life alone, Harry sometimes had trouble getting his points across, but Aberforth understood that. Again, he gave the boy time.

Finally, after a few minutes thought, Harry spoke. "It's Lupin."

Aberforth's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Remus Lupin?"

"You know him?"

"Yeah, Remus and his friends used to come in my pub when they were at Hogwarts. If I remember right, one of his best mates was a young lad named James Potter."

"My dad," Harry said heavily, and Abe knew that the information was no surprise to the boy. "Yeah, he told me that."

"You don't believe him?"

"Wormtail said the same thing."

"Wormtail?"

Aberforth knew who Wormtail was, of course. He knew the significance of that little discovery, having been informed of the whole tale by Albus. If Wormtail was indeed Peter Pettigrew – a very much alive Peter Pettigrew – the events of that Halloween night all those years ago might not be quite what people had always believed. Sirius Black might well be innocent, and a traitor might well still be on the loose. It was something the Order was considering very, very closely, and Aberforth knew that word was already out there to be on the look for either Pettigrew or a rat with a missing finger...

"Wormtail was the man who kidnapped us," Harry explained, and Aberforth nodded.

"Could he have been lying to you?" Aberforth asked. "About knowing your dad?"

"Don't think so," Harry muttered, and Aberforth was inclined to believe the boy. Harry, Abe knew, had learnt how to read people a long time ago. It was quite eerie to see the talent in action sometimes, but Abe tried not to let it bother him too much. It wasn't as if he had anything to hide from the lad…

"Have you asked Mr Lupin about it?"

"I don't want to," Harry replied bluntly.

"Why?" Aberforth asked, although he wasn't entirely surprised.

"I…I don't want to know," Harry muttered.

"Know what, lad?"

"I don't want to know if Wormtail really was friends with my dad."

Aberforth frowned. "Would it matter?"

"It would to me."

"Why?" Aberforth asked, although he reckoned he already knew the answer.

"How could he be friends with someone like that?" Harry answered, confirming Aberforth's suspicions.

"Because he was human," Aberforth replied, thinking back to Albus' adolescence and his friendship with Grindelward. "We all make mistakes, some bigger than others. And your dad was only young when those boys all met, remember. He couldn't have known what would happen."

"So how do I know I can trust Lupin?" Harry asked. "He's supposed to be one of my teachers, but how do I know he's not in league with Wormtail? If my dad was wrong about Wormtail, what's to say he wasn't wrong about Lupin too?"

"I reckon you'll have to make that judgement for yourself, lad," Aberforth sighed. "No one will force you to speak to the man if you don't want to, but I think it would be a damn shame if you didn't at least give him the chance to prove himself. From what I've seen, you're a good judge of character, Harry. You dad, god rest his soul, may have been wrong about Wormtail, but that doesn't mean he was wrong about Lupin." He shrugged slightly. "Just something to think about, that's all."

Harry nodded jerkily in reply as he turned his attention back to the goats, and Aberforth knew instinctively that he'd taken it as far as he could. The rest was up to Harry now.

Tired, cold and almost numb to his soul, Remus Lupin slowly made his way up to the front door of the Burrow. He was nervous - terrified really - and had been since the moment he'd received the letter from the Weasleys asking him to come to their home. Their message had been simple; Harry wanted to speak with him.

Even though he had brooded on the matter for hours since receiving the note, Remus didn't know whether to be happy or sad about that, so he settled on nervous instead as he knocked on the door.

Mrs Weasley answered, and immediately pulled him into a gentle, reassuring hug. After a few moments, she released him, gently patting him of the cheek as she pointed towards the living room.

"Remus," she said softly. "He's in there waiting for you. Arthur's taken the kids for a walk, so you'll have some privacy. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

And with that, she ushered Remus straight into the living room, and left him alone, standing face to face with James Potter's slightly smaller replica.

When Remus had first caught sight of Harry on the streets of London, he'd had to do a double take. Harry had looked so like his dad that it was almost as if he seeing someone from beyond the game. Looking now however, more closely and with panic no longer clouding his mind, Remus could see the stark differences between father and son.

For one thing, Harry looked older. Whether it was his expression, or his eyes, Remus didn't know, but James Potter had never looked so serious, so utterly world-weary, even at the height of the war. He had also never been so thin, but Remus didn't want to consider that part of Harry's life too deeply at the moment, just in case his anger got the better of him. He needed to remain calm. For Harry.

"I..er…I suppose I should introduce myself properly," Remus began quietly instead, his eyes fixed to Harry, almost afraid to lose sight of him now that he had been found. "I'm Remus Lupin."

Miraculously, Harry held his hand out. "I...erm...I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Remus shook it gratefully, but he was careful not to hold Harry's hand too hard. As strong as the boy undoubtedly was, he just seemed so frail…

"Do you…I don't know…do you want to sit down and talk?" Harry offered carefully.

"Yes, I'd like that very much," Remus replied, trying not to show how emotional such a simple suggestion had made him.

He followed Harry to the sofa and sat down, careful to give him plenty of space. Remus knew enough about Harry's past to know that the boy wasn't very comfortable being alone with grown men, particularly strangers, and Remus was determined to do everything he could to make Harry feel okay in his presence.

Once they were both sat down however, the tension grew rapidly, and it became very clear very quickly that neither of them knew what to say.

Remus almost felt as if he should be holding his breath as he waited for Harry to say something, anything. He felt like a man on trial, waiting for his sentence to be read out…

"So…er…" Harry began, obviously nervous himself. "What are you going to be teaching me, sir?"

"Excuse me?" Remus managed to get out, though he was sure it sounded as if he were choking on the words themselves.

"Mrs Weasley said that you're going to be one of my teachers," Harry continued quietly, deliberately. "What will you be teaching me?"

"I…er…" Remus wasn't usually this tongue-tied, but something about this boy was different, special. "You still want me to teach you?"

"I…don't have much choice," Harry replied, and Lupin felt his heart stop. "But I…you knew my parents, didn't you?"

"I did, Harry," Remus replied. "Very well."

"And you knew Pettigrew?" the boy continued carefully. Lupin got the distinct feeling that he was being put through some sort of test, and he was determined not to fail.

"I did," Remus replied, desperately trying to ignore the guilt hammering at his mind.

Harry didn't look surprised, which meant Albus had likely already explained a few things to the boy. Remus felt relief run through him at that realisation, despite his nerves.

"Did you know he was alive?" Harry asked. "That he was the traitor, not Black?"

"No," Remus choked out, "I didn't. Harry, I swear to you, I didn't know. I wish…well, I wish a lot of things that I can't change. I would if I could."

"Me too," Harry replied bluntly. Remus got the feeling that Harry had more to say, and this time he really did hold his breath. "Why did you never visit me?"

Harry's expression was blank, as if all emotion had been wiped from it as he asked the one question that Remus least wanted to answer. It was a skill, a practiced art that must have taken years to master. It made Remus sick to think of all the situations in which Harry had probably used it in his life.

"I…" Remus paused, but quickly settled on telling Harry the truth. "I did not handle your parents' deaths very well, I'm sorry to say. I was, quite simply, a mess. It took a long time to get my life back on track, and once I had, I believed you to be with a family who were better placed to take care of you than I was."

"Why didn't you even check?" For the first time, Harry sounded pained to Lupin's ears, and Lupin felt his heart break, because he knew then, for sure, that Harry not emotionless, but was instead simply holding his emotion back, as if he feared that his emotions would break him if he unleashed them and gave them the chance to run free.

"I couldn't, Harry," Remus choked out. "I couldn't believe that anyone could be a worst guardian for a child than I. Even one that I cared for more than I cared for anyone else in the world."

"I...I don't understand."

"I'm a…" Remus took a deep breath. "I'm a Werewolf, Harry. Every month…I change. I can't control it. I've never been able to control it. I'm a danger to everyone, and I'll understand if you don't want to be around me. If you're scared-"

"You don't look dangerous," Harry interrupted, with no trace of fear in his eyes. If he was scared after Remus' revelation, he wasn't showing it.

"I'm…I'm only dangerous on the full moon," Remus told him cautiously, still afraid of spooking him.

"Then…I don't see the problem," Harry replied. Remus felt his heart hammering in his chest.

"You…"

"I don't see the problem," Harry replied, only confusion in his eyes. "If you're only dangerous on the full moon, then surely you can just…I don't know...go somewhere far away from people until you're back to normal. I don't see why that's anything for me to be scared of."

"Oh, Harry," Remus told him. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that. You are...more like your mother than you know."

"You knew her too?"

"I did," Remus replied. "Not as well as your dad, but well enough."

"Can you…well I know you'll be teaching me magic, but can you…tell me about them sometime? I just…"

"Of course I can, Harry," Remus interrupted gently. "I'll tell you everything I know."

"Now?" Harry asked cautiously, and his eager expression almost broke Remus' heart all over again.

"Why not?" Remus replied calmly, much more calmly than he felt inside.

Remus waited for a beat, just to make sure Harry was sitting comfortably, before he began to speak.

"Well, they met at school," he began quietly, a small smile growing on his face as he allowed the memories to surround him. "Although it certainly wasn't plain sailing for them…"

And slowly, Remus began to tell the tale of a young boy with dark hair and glasses, who had fallen in love with a girl with red hair and green eyes, and of the young girl, who had eventually seen the good in that boy and had fallen in love with him too.

Harry hung on his every word.

A/N - So, first of all, hello once again. Secondly, I am so sorry for the year-long delay in getting this chapter out to you. In the A/N at the end of the last chapter, I mentioned a new story I had started working on. That story turned out to be a 38 chaptered, 130,000+ word monster. It's no excuse for leaving this story on the side for so long without an update, but hopefully it will go some way towards explaining it. I'm sorry, and I truly hope that there are still people out there who are still interested in this story. If you are, please let me know. I will be spending a bit of time working out the kinks in this story and fixing all the mistakes I've found whilst re-reading it, but I promise, I will also be working on the next chapter in order to try and make sure that there isn't such a long wait for the next update. Until then, thanks for sticking with me, and most of all, thanks for reading!