Harry didn't think he'd ever quite get used to the feeling of Apparating, but today, the disorientation and slight nausea might as well have been the best feeling in the world.

He was out. He was safe.

Remus and Harry appeared in the living room at Grimmauld Place. Harry wondered if there were extra people staying there—it was a little messier than usual, with dishes washing themselves in the sink and coats slung over chairs and furniture.

And Sirius lay on the floor of the living room in a full body bind.

"Ah. Sorry about that." Remus took out his wand and muttered a counter curse.

Sirius jumped to his feet and threw his arms around Harry. "Are you alright?"

Harry gasped a little for breath. "I'm fine."

"You're sure?" He gripped Harry's shoulders and held him at arm's length. "What did they do to you?"

"Nothing."

"Harry," Remus said in a warning voice.

Harry grimaced. He didn't want to talk to Sirius about this. For one thing, it was embarrassing. He had been so certain he could last two weeks at his relatives' house, especially with the protective spell over him, and he couldn't even do that. Aunt Petunia hadn't even been hurting him; whatever alarms had been triggered at Grimmauld Place had probably been a result of his own accidental magic more than anything else. On the other hand, Uncle Vernon had knocked his head against a wall, and Sirius wouldn't deal well with that knowledge. Even Remus had barely kept it in.

But Remus had just charged in and rescued him. Harry couldn't just shrug and refuse to speak; he had to say something. For the life of him, though, he couldn't figure out what to say.

Remus spoke first. "Sirius, Harry has been through an ordeal. Why don't we let him rest, and we can talk to him in a little while?"

Harry could see Sirius fighting his urge to resist, his mouth opening and closing, breathing in to speak and then holding himself back. Finally, he sighed. "Get some rest, Harry," Sirius said. "We'll talk later."

----------------------------------------

Remus spent the next hour out in the common area on the couch in front of the empty fireplace. He held a shot glass of firewhiskey in his hand, but he never actually brought it to his lips.

Within the first fifteen minutes after his arrival, Kingsley dropped in to ask whether Harry was alright, and five minutes after that, Tonks came in with the same question. He told them both the same thing: that they should leave Harry alone until he was ready to talk. He was thankful they had asked him first.

Something terrible must have happened at the Dursleys. It was the only thing that would explain the strength of the accidental magic outburst he'd seen, especially given the fact that Harry should really be too old for that by now; the boy was almost sixteen. His uncle had been hurting him when Remus had arrived, but that didn't seem to be what had caused the explosion; more likely, his uncle was punishing him for an outburst he couldn't control. Remus paced and counted his breaths—Vernon Dursley made him want to forget all reason and take justice into his own hands. He couldn't blame Sirius for wanting the same, and he couldn't imagine what Harry must have gone through, or what he might be thinking or feeling now.

It took almost the full hour for it to occur to Remus that he had projected his own needs onto the boy. He hadn't actually asked Harry whether he wanted to be alone, or if he talk about anything. He's just assumed.

Remus had forced himself to take some time away from Harry to collect his thoughts and allow Harry to collect his own, and to protect the boy from prying questions. But just because Sirius had been overwhelming him didn't mean Harry wanted to be alone after such a traumatic event. Remus hadn't even asked. He could have kicked himself.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

For all Sirius's promptings and Tonks's confidence, Remus really had no idea how to be a guardian.

Remus knocked on the door and waited for Harry to invite him in before stepping into the guest room where Harry had been staying. It hadn't mattered before, but it only now struck Remus how depressing and bare the room was. A bed, a small desk, a plain dresser, off-white walls. He wondered whether Harry had ever been allowed to have a room that was his own space, decorated according to his own tastes.

The room could wait. As soon as Remus's eyes fell on Harry, who sat on the edge of his bed, he knew he'd made a serious mistake. Harry was covered from head to toe in debris from the explosion. His face, hands, and arms were marred with cuts and scrapes that Remus hadn't even noticed before. He looked the way James used to look when he was on edge—holding his head high, but with his jaw tense, flinching ever so slightly at sudden movements. Other than maybe to shower, Harry didn't need to be alone.

"Hang on, Harry, I'll be right back." Remus walked over to the nearest medicine cabinet and picked up some supplies. He wasn't a healer, but he could relieve some of the boy's pain. He pulled the chair from the desk over to sit across from Harry, poured a bit of essence of Dittany onto a cotton pad, and leaned over to dab it into the cuts on Harry's face. Harry hissed as the liquid sank into a couple of the deeper cuts, but he held still as Remus worked.

When Remus finished with Harry's face and moved onto his hands, he asked what he should have asked an hour ago: "How are you, Harry?"

"I'm fine."

Remus tried to hide his disappointment. "I had believed you were past lying to me."

Harry sighed. "It was accidental magic. My uncle got pretty upset."

"Something must have made you quite angry to trigger that size of explosion."

Harry looked away.

Remus set down his supplies on the desk and leaned forward, looking Harry right in the eyes even as the boy avoided his gaze. "When I Floo-called, you told me everything was fine at the Dursleys. I offered to send food to your bedroom, and you asked me not to."

"Please don't tell Sirius. He'll do something reckless."

Sirius wouldn't like that, but his safety and Harry's comfort were more important than what he liked and disliked. "You have my word."

A short pause, and then, almost whispered, "They put me back in the cupboard."

An icy chill ran through Remus's veins. A dark thought crossed his mind—he wished he hadn't spared Vernon, and for a moment he relished the memory of the man cowering before him—but Remus pushed that aside. Harry needed him here, not in prison. For a moment Remus couldn't speak, but even when he could, he chose to remain silent, to give Harry space to open up if he wished.

"My aunt was saying terrible things about my parents. It was almost like she was trying to provoke me."

Remus nodded, hoping the sympathy he felt showed in his face, still forcing himself to remain quiet.

"I—I just don't understand. Why they hate me, you know? I know my uncle is afraid of magic, and I get the feeling my aunt was . . . jealous of my mom?"

"I think there's probably a lot of truth to that."

Harry's eyes finally met Remus's. "Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful to be here, but I just can't help but wish . . . I think part of why I wanted to go back was, I wanted to see if I could work things out, you know? And I couldn't even last two weeks."

"Harry." Remus firmed his voice. "It is nothing to be ashamed of."

Harry shrugged and looked away. His eyes shone, but he blinked a few times.

"Son, if you need to . . ." Remus couldn't quite get out the word cry. "Your secret is safe with me."

"No, I'm—I'm okay."

Remus wished he knew what to say or do for the boy, but he wasn't going to make the same mistake as last time and assume he knew. "What do you need from me, Harry?"

He shifted his weight slightly on the bed. "I, er, I don't know if it's too much to ask . . ."

"Name it."

"I'm starving, but I don't want to see anyone else. Not just yet."

"You're quite welcome to eat in your room. I'll bring you something. I've saved some leftovers from dinner last night, I can cast a heating spell."

"Thank you, sir."

"When you are ready to come out . . . ah, fair warning, there might be a bit of a crowd."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "The Order?"

"Just a few members, hiding out after a mission until things settle down. Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor Moody."

"Thanks for the warning."

"I won't keep you waiting any longer." Remus stood.

He was halfway to the door when Harry spoke again: "Er . . . Remus?"

Remus turned back toward Harry. "Yes, my boy?"

"I've got a headache, from . . . well, you know. I don't know if you have, er, a potion or something . . ."

Remus gave him a slight smile. "I'll be right back."

"Thank you, Remus."

"Of course." With that, Remus left the room.