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The Tainted Blood of the Father	By : StarLightMassacre Category: Supernatural > Crossovers Views: 7278 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or Supernatural; all rights go to J. K. Rowling and Eric Kripke respectively. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Last Time

Harry had to smile at that as he realised that what he was feeling right now, it was the protection and the safety of having a brother to look out for him, someone he could rely on. He’d never felt anything like it before. It felt really nice and if he wasn’t careful, then he’d find himself getting addicted to it very quickly and very easily. It was a nice thought, one that he held onto tight. He liked having brothers, he liked having a family to call his own. He didn’t think he could leave now, even if he tried to. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to get to know his new found family and he wanted to stay with them for as long as they wanted him.

Chapter Four – Friction

The tablets that Bobby kept giving to him and insisting that he take regularly were making him really drowsy and sleepy. He was more often than not tucked up on the sofa with a blanket that was repeatedly tucked around him if he so much as shifted under it, sleeping off the effects of the strong painkillers. He’d never been allowed to have any painkillers before, so the strong ones he was being given affected him so much more than they would have had he actually taken so much as a paracetamol tablet with the Dursleys.
A heavy hand would jerk him from his sleep at five-ish in the afternoon and he’d peer blearily up at John who would smile at him and tell him that it was time to eat. He’d wake up a little over dinner and afterwards he’d translate more of the book that Bobby had given to him or he’d do some more research on creatures or he’d be snatched by Dean to watch a film with him.
He’d had several more nightmares, his wrappings were changed daily as John checked on the stitches in his back and he’d gotten a little more used to the four men. It wasn’t quite so awkward anymore and as the end of his first week with his biological Father and two older brothers dawned, he found that he’d stopped flinching when one of them raised a hand to scratch their nose or to tug at their hair.
They’d noticed too, Harry guessed, as they had been very careful and deliberate around him, but since he’d stopped his flinching, they’d stopped tiptoeing around him quite so much, though they were still very gentle with him. Much gentler than they were used to being he reckoned, from the awkward nature of their conversations and actions. He only needed to observe how they acted and spoke to one another to discern that how they treated him was different, that they took more care with how they spoke to him and were very aware of what they were saying and how they were acting.
He was caught in the grips of yet another nightmare when a careful hand woke him. He shot up, his heart racing and his breathing stuttered, looking around fearfully.

“Are they here?” He asked sleepily, still caught up with his nightmare.

“No, Harry. No one is here.” Sam replied softly, patiently.

Harry panted hard, still panicking and he tried to catch his breath.

“Just breathe through it, Harry. You’re alright, you’re safe here.” Sam insisted strongly and calmly.

Harry surged up and he wrapped his skinny arms around Sam’s neck and he clung onto him. After a moment of surprised pause, Sam wrapped his arms around Harry’s back, taking care with his horrific bruising and his stitches and hugged him back as Harry panted against his neck, trying to calm himself down.

“Shh, it’s alright. It was just a dream.” Sam soothed him.

Harry shook his head. “Wasn’t a dream.” He mumbled. “It was a memory.” He admitted.

Sam’s jaw clenched and he made absolutely sure that he didn’t convey his anger through his body as he calmed Harry down. It was just lucky that he’d gotten up to take a piss and he’d decided to come down to check on Harry before going back to bed. He’d had a feeling that Harry needed him, so he’d come down to check and Harry had needed him.
Their Dad had decided to leave Harry on the settee where he’d fallen asleep instead of waking him up to go to bed and now Sam wondered if that was such a good idea as he watched his younger brother peer around carefully, looking for intruders or for the object of his nightmare, what Sam assumed was his relatives.
Sam stroked Harry’s unruly, messy, curly hair and just held him.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep, or do you want me to stay down here.”

Harry averted his gaze and Sam knew then, almost immediately, that what Harry actually wanted, he didn’t feel comfortable asking for. They were getting better and Harry had stopped flinching and cowering if one of them moved too suddenly near him, but they still had a long way to go yet.

“I can’t help you with what you want if you don’t tell me what it is you actually want in the first place.” He coaxed gently.

Harry just twisted his fingers uncomfortably and Sam tried to think of what he would have wanted when he was around Harry’s age and he’d had a bad nightmare. It was difficult as their situations were completely different and he had never been abused, but when he’d been little and their Dad had been gone, he’d always crawled into Dean’s bed. He’d always sought out the protection of his older brother to use against his nightmares.

“You want to sleep, but you don’t want to be alone?” He hedged.

Harry just nodded and Sam smiled at the small show of trust.

“Come on. You can stay with me.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You aren’t. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise, Harry. You’re my brother and I want to look after you and I want to help make you feel better, if that means that you have to put up with my elbows and Dean’s strange grunting and mumbling to help you sleep more peacefully, then so be it.”

Sam got Harry up the stairs and into his bed, scooting him against the wall and then lying in front of him. Dean had always told him that he was always to be against the wall to protect him from anything that came through the door. Their Dad’s bed was always the one nearest the door and his and Dean’s bed had always been the one against the wall and Dean had always slept in front of him like a shield. It was strange how he was now doing the same for Harry. How protecting him, shielding him like this came as second nature to him when he’d never done it before.
He fell asleep with a sleeping Harry pressed close to his chest. It felt nice to be the big brother for once and though it had only been a week, Harry was definitely getting closer to them all, to himself in particular. Harry was still wary around their Dad and Bobby, but Dean was definitely forcing himself through the icy barrier by sitting with Harry for hours on end and watching movies with him, quoting the lines and making Harry laugh.
But still, it was him who Harry turned to when he had a bad dream, it was him who Harry looked for when he was feeling unsettled and wanted some reassurance. It had to have been from their first night together, when he’d taken the plunge and shown some trust in Harry first, before anyone else, and he had told him about Jess. There was nothing else that stuck out really that would have made Harry seek him out in particular, but he was glad. Harry needed someone to talk to, to help him through the horrific memories of his past. Sam just wanted to help his little brother, even if it meant sleeping in the same bed with Harry pressed close to him. He didn’t care what he had to do, he’d do it in a heartbeat and if there was any way that he could take the pain away from Harry, he’d gladly do that too.
Of course being startled awake at day break by their Dad bursting into the room, ordering them awake because Harry was missing was a very disorientating, alarming experience.

“Uh? Was ‘appening?” Dean asked sleepily, sat up, knife in hand as he brandished it outwards towards their Dad.

Of course by this point their Father had seen that Harry was cowering behind Sam, having been startled awake and then terrified by all the noise.

“Nothing, false alarm.” John grumbled uncomfortably.

Dean groaned and he let himself fall back onto his mattress, shoving his knife back under his pillow. Sam followed Dean’s lead and he fell back to his mattress, hoping for another hour or so of sleep, but Harry was now wide awake, his body thrumming with adrenaline, and he knew that he’d never be able to get back to sleep now, so he slipped carefully out of the bed and he followed John’s footsteps down the stairs.

“I take it you found him?” Bobby asked.

“In bed with Sam.” Harry heard John answer with a sigh. “Why didn’t I think to check their room first, before I went storming in? I frightened him half to death.”

“I’m okay.” Harry said with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

“I saw you gone and I just panicked.” John admitted and Harry could see how unhappy he was with saying it, even as he did the now very familiar once over with his eyes, visually checking him over.

Harry smiled. “I was the one who came here, remember. I like it here, I like all of you. I’m not going to run away in the middle of the night.”

Bobby and John shared a look and Harry frowned, wondering what on Earth they could possibly be thinking. Surely they didn’t expect him to be kidnapped in the night from under their very noses, did they?

“What?” He asked as he looked at them. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”

“No, nothing.” John said immediately.

“For some strange reason, I don’t actually believe you.” Harry said, but he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. All of us have secrets and some of those secrets shouldn’t be shared.”

Harry lost himself in thought, gazing at a section of wall without really seeing it as he thought to the Dursleys, to Voldemort’s rebirth and the distance his friends had put between them at the end of the school year. He thought of Cedric’s death and Sirius, his Father’s oldest friend who hadn’t once mentioned that he’d been a surrogate baby and had a living family in America. He wanted to know why. He should have been told about it!
He ground his teeth together and he clenched his fists and that was when John touched his back, between his shoulder blades and steered him to the kitchen. After a small flinch at the suddenness of the touch, Harry allowed himself to be led into the kitchen and he sat down heavily.

“Why are you angry?” John asked him.

“Because those damn people didn’t tell me about you!” Harry hissed. “How could they keep something like that from me?! They must have thought that I’d never find out on my own, which makes it all the worse.”

Harry didn’t voice what he really thought…that they’d never really expected him to defeat Voldemort on his own, a mere fourteen year old boy. They hadn’t expected him to live long enough to find out about his surrogacy or his real Father and John himself had said that he hadn’t thought about James or Lily since his Wife had died. No one would have come looking for him and if he’d done as he was told and not gone to Gringotts that day…then maybe he would never have found out about his real family either.
He dropped his head into his hands, his elbows propped up on the table as he hid his face from the two men watching him. Perhaps it had been a mistake sending Hedwig to Sirius, it had been over a week since he’d sent her off and she hadn’t returned yet, maybe it would have been better if he’d sent a postal owl and kept Hedwig with him, she was his first ever friend and if Ron had turned on him again, and taken Hermione with him this time, then she was in fact his only friend.
A glass of orange juice was placed in front of him, along with a small cap full of the pills that he needed to take and Harry sighed, automatically reaching to touch the stitched wound in his back. It was getting better and the pain was nowhere near what it had been when he’d been walking around with it open and untreated, but John and Bobby both insisted that he still had to take the pressed powder tablets and liquid capsules that made him sleepy and drowsy.
He was watched like a hawk as he threw all of the pills into his mouth at once and then gulped them down with the entire glass of juice. Bobby topped up his glass for him and then he was left alone as the two older men started talking about tools, cars and car parts that sounded completely foreign and alien to Harry, and thus went completely over his head.
Sam was the first of his brothers to get up over an hour later and he happily accepted the coffee handed to him by John and he sat right beside Harry, who hadn’t felt like doing much of anything as he brooded and fumed silently to himself.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Sam asked in clear concern.

“Fine.” Harry grunted.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Well I am!” Harry all but hissed.

“Harry, if you…”

“Sam.” John cut in, a clear warning in his voice.

As soon as John had reprimanded Sam, Harry found himself with a sullen, brooding buddy as Sam clenched his body and silently fumed next to him.

“They’re like two peas in a pod.” Bobby chuckled to himself.

“Who killed whose dog?” Dean asked as he waltzed into the kitchen and caught sight of them both.

Harry and Sam just glared at him, unknown to them, they had exactly the same expression on their faces.

“Now that’s creepy.” Dean told them, pointing the car keys in his hand at the both of them. “Don’t start mimicking Sam, Harry. I have all the bitch I can handle from Sam alone, I can’t handle it if you start bitch facing me too.”

Harry pouted and looked down at the table. Dean ruffled his hair.

“That’s more like it, you look cuter when you’re all pouty.”

Harry swatted away his hands and went back to glaring, biting his tongue to stop the torrent of words that wanted to fall out of his mouth.

“Go and get breakfast before you end up six feet under, you idjit.” Bobby told him.

“Alright, alright.” Dean conceded and he had a huge grin on his face. “I told you that sleeping together would only lead to heartbreak!” Was his parting shot as he left.

Sam groaned and put his head in his hands.

“What does he mean?” Harry asked, still angry, but now mostly curious too.

“Nothing, ignore him.” John said quickly and Harry looked at John, before looking back at the door.

He dashed out, forced his battered trainers onto his feet and darted out of the front door. He caught up to Dean just as he was starting the engine and he climbed into the car beside him, closing the door lightly.

“You want to come for a ride?” Dean asked him, slightly surprised at the sudden appearance of his youngest brother.

Harry nodded his head.

“Get your seatbelt on.” Dean told him.

Harry turned and grabbed the seatbelt, clicking it into the lock before looking back at Dean, who started the car and started manoeuvring them over the gravel.

“You’re still in your pyjamas.”

Harry looked down at himself and shrugged. “They’re only jogging bottoms and a long sleeved shirt, no one will know they’re pyjamas.”

“You need to get away from Sam and his constant mothering?” Dean asked with a smirk as he drove out of the scrap yard. “He never lets anything drop and he’s always pestering.”

“I don’t mind. Most of the time.” Harry said quietly. “But sometimes I just want…I want…”

“You want to be left the hell alone?” Dean filled in for him and Harry grinned, nodding.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, well come to me next time, not Sam. I won’t constantly bug you about your feelings or whatever and I’ll leave you to get on with it. You’ve survived this long without telling anyone continuously how you’re feeling every five minutes, right?”

Harry nodded and he settled back against the soft leather.

“Why does me sleeping with Sam lead to heartbreak?” He asked curiously as Dean stopped at a set of lights.

“Dude, don’t ask that!” Dean told him, looking like a deer in the headlights.

“You’re the one who said it!” Harry pointed out with a frown. “Did I do something wrong?”

“God, no.” Dean replied, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else and he drove off again, looking obsessively at the road.

“Is it wrong for me to sleep with Sam?” Harry tried.

Dean pulled a face. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?” Harry demanded, getting more and more confused by the minute.

“Like that!” Dean insisted.

“Would it be better if I slept with you instead?” Harry asked.

Dean almost swerved the car into oncoming traffic. “Dude, stop!”

“I don’t understand!” Harry said, biting his lip nervously. “It was only because I was having nightmares.”

“That’s fine, just stop saying it like that.” Dean insisted.

“You’re the one who said it like that in the first place!”

“Yeah and now I’m thoroughly regretting it!”

“But what does it mean?” Harry asked.

“Nothing. I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Dean said firmly.

Harry bit his lip and nibbled on it, wondering if he should press his luck or not, but he still wasn’t all that comfortable with any of these new people, so he blew out a breath and settled down.

“Okay, but I’m going to hold you to that.” He insisted and he actually saw Dean blowing out a relieved breath of his own. “How old do I have to be to know what it means?”

“Eighteen.” Dean replied promptly.

“That’s three years away!” Harry replied, completely appalled.

“Hopefully you’ll have forgotten about it by then.” Dean insisted.

Harry grinned. “Nuh-uh. I’m going to write it down so I remember to ask you.”

“Dude, that’s not fair!” Dean told him and Harry laughed.

“You said I could ask when I was eighteen, so I’m going to ask when I’m eighteen. If I don’t get Sam to crack first.”

“Good luck with that, Sammy’s more interested in preserving your innocence than anyone else.”

“What does that mean, preserving my innocence?”

“Fuck it!” Dean cursed. “Just forget I mentioned anything and keep that one for when you’re eighteen too.”

“What if I ask Bobby? Will he tell me what it means?”

“Hell no.” Dean actually laughed at that. “Him and Dad are more inept at this than I am.”

“So Sam’s my best bet?”

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

Harry shook his head. “I want to know what it means.”

“You’ll find out…when you’re eighteen.” Dean told him as he pulled into a diner. “Do you want to come in with me?”

Harry nodded his head.

“Then don’t mention any of this inside and stay close, alright?”

Harry nodded again and climbed out of the car, making sure to shut the door carefully as Sam had told him that Dean loved his car and he didn’t want to be in his brother’s bad books for slamming the car door too hard.
He trotted to Dean’s side and stayed close as they went inside and Dean gave their usual breakfast order to the waitress, stipulating that it was to go.
Harry looked around curiously, at the strange looking diner, all the people and the strange foods that were actually being ordered for breakfast. It was all fascinating to him.

“I put some extra fruit and another bottle of juice in your order for your little one, free of charge.” The kindly looking waitress told Dean with an adoring smile to Harry, who smiled back shyly as she handed Dean’s order to him in a large paper bag.

Dean looked like he was going to have a fit where he stood. Harry grinned evilly.

“Thank you very much. My Daddy always forgets to get me extra juice.” Harry told the woman, who all but melted in her shoes and gave him a soppy, simpering smile.

“You’re so adorable, dear! You must be so proud of him, he’s so polite!”

“My Daddy’s a good man.” Harry told her, trying to keep himself as serious as he could when all he wanted to do was burst out laughing. He might have already ruptured several ribs thus far.

Dean spun him around and pushed him at the door. “Get in the car!” He ordered as Harry all but cackled, losing the fight against his laughter as he left the diner and the curious waitress who didn’t know what she’d said or done wrong.

He made it back to the car with Dean shadowing him and he climbed in, wiping his eyes of the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

“Hold this.” Dean said shortly, in a foul mood and Harry laughed all over again as he clutched at the large paper bag and listened to Dean’s muttering about fathering babies and having teenaged sons and how he was too young to have Harry for a son.

He was still muttering when they arrived back at Bobby’s and Harry was still laughing hard enough to have tears streaming down his face.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Sam asked him concernedly as he walked into the kitchen with the paper bag, misunderstanding the tears on his cheeks.

Harry started laughing all over again and he put the bag on the table and all but collapsed into a chair still laughing as Dean came striding in, in a bad mood.

“He is not coming on the breakfast run with me again!” He told the room at large and Harry roared with laughter, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands as he tried to calm himself.

“What happened?” John asked, looking on with a smile as Harry had a giggle fit.

“Nothing!” Dean insisted quickly. “But he’s not allowed outside of this house ever again.”

Harry chuckled a bit and took a few deep breaths, calming himself as he grinned widely.

“The nice waitress gave me extra fruit and juice for free.” Harry said happily as he took the Styrofoam box of food from John and the two bottles of juice and the Styrofoam box of fruit that had black marker on the top spelling out ‘for the little cutie.’

“Little cutie?” John questioned as he read the top of the box.

Harry grinned. “I’m very used to people thinking that I’m much younger than I am because I’m so short. If it gets me free stuff, I don’t mind so much.”

“Not another word.” Dean warned him and Harry set off laughing again.

“What happened?” Sam asked, looking happier himself as he grinned with Harry.

“She thought that…”

“I won’t answer your questions at eighteen!” Dean threatened him.

Harry pouted.

“I’ll answer any questions you have at eighteen.” Sam insisted and Harry grinned.

“She thought that Dean was my Dad.” He giggled and Dean groaned and slammed his head into the table top. “She praised him on how polite and well-mannered I was and she said he was a good Dad.” Harry laughed again.

Sam snorted with laughter and Dean picked himself up.

“The little shit egged her on too!” He complained. “‘My Daddy’s a good man, he likes me eating lots of fruit.’” He mimicked and Harry burst out laughing again. “He’s staying here next time.”

“Your face was a picture.” Harry said with a massive grin.

“That thing is evil.” Dean told John, pointing to Harry, who wiped his eyes again and unscrewed his first bottle of juice and took a sip so that he could calm down.

“I got free stuff, didn’t I?” Harry asked happily.

“You don’t deserve it at my expense.” Dean complained.

“Eat your food, the both of you.” John told them and Harry, still giggling a little, dug into his breakfast with relish while Dean moodily stabbed at his own.

The free fruit tasted extra sweet because of how he’d gotten it and he wiped the pineapple juice from his mouth and tried not to laugh at the look on Dean’s face.
He was in a much better mood than he’d been when he’d woken up and he decided that today he was going to go outside in the sun for a bit. He got changed into the only pair of shorts he had and one of his smaller tee shirts, it showed nearly every half healed cut and bruise that he had, but it was an incredibly warm day and he was going to be outside and after what had happened on his second day here, it wasn’t like John, Bobby, Dean and Sam hadn’t seen every bump and mark that he had on him anyway.
He made his way outside and he wandered a little, smiling as the sun warmed his skin. It did not take long for someone to join him and when he next looked around, John was sat on the porch, cleaning an array of guns. Harry hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask him why he had so many guns yet.
Dean joined them not half an hour later as he crawled under the hood of the car and he was covered in grease and oil up to his elbows when Harry next looked at him as he wandered around the grassy outer areas of Bobby’s front driveway, digging for bugs and other animals that he could look over.
By the time he turned back around, Bobby and Sam had joined John and Dean and Harry grinned. He liked it here, he really did and he felt so safe and happy as he found a butterfly on a patch of wildflowers and he picked it up on his finger, ever so gently, looking it over with his eyes, taking in its pattern and beautiful colours.

“Why does it stay on you?” Sam asked as he wandered close by. “Every time I go near butterflies they dart off. It doesn’t even seem bothered by you.”

“He’s not bothered by me.” Harry said with a smile. “He can tell that I don’t mean him any harm so he’s happy to let me handle him. It would be easier if I had sugar water, they like sugar water, but he can sense that I’m not going to squash him or pull his wings off because I’m not some sick bastard who would harm a defenceless animal that’s as beautiful as he is.”

“What breed is he?” Sam asked curiously.

“Eastern tailed blue.” Harry replied as he tilted his finger to check underneath the butterfly’s body. “In perfect health and in his prime too.”

Harry moved his hand out and the butterfly flew off. Harry watched him until he couldn’t see him anymore before he turned to look all the way up to Sam.

“I did say I liked animals more than people, Sam. I know a lot about animals, but people always confuse me.”

“It’s no wonder with how you grew up.”

Harry grimaced and Sam seemed to realise exactly what he’d just said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine. It’s all true after all.” Harry sighed. “I’m completely useless at talking to other people and I’m totally socially inept. I don’t like people and I hate being forced to interact with them. I never know what they’re going to do or say and I hate not knowing.”

Sam put a hand on his shoulder and bent down until he was eye level with him, which meant he was bent almost completely in half.

“We’re not like those people, Harry. We’re going to help you, not hurt you. You’ll see.”

Harry smiled and stepped forward to hug Sam. He liked the feeling of those big arms holding him back too.

“Thank you, Sam.” Harry said. “Now tell me why Dean said you’re preserving my innocence. What does that mean?”

“Nope.” Sam said with his own grin as he ruffled Harry’s hair.

“You’re both horrible.” Harry scoffed. “I just want to know! I’m curious.” He insisted.

“Not until you’re eighteen.” Sam told him.

“Fine, I’ll just ask Google.” Harry grinned.

“Don’t. Seriously, don’t. It’ll scar you for life.” Sam said seriously and Harry frowned, trying to figure out if Sam was actually being serious or just joking. He couldn’t tell.

Sam left him to go to Dean and Harry wondered if Sam was telling him the truth about asking Google about his innocence. He didn’t think he was all that innocent, especially not after the tri-wizard tournament. Then his brothers didn’t know about that, so maybe they just thought that he was innocent when in actual fact, he wasn’t.
He sighed and sat himself on the scrubby, ill-kempt grass. He had grass stains all over and a couple of blades stuck to his knees and his hands were dirty, but he didn’t mind. It reminded him of Privet Drive though and all the times he was forced outside in the sweltering heat to do the gardening before he could eat and even then sometimes he wasn’t allowed any food afterwards, just a glass of water. He liked it better here as he watched Dean shout at Sam for doing something to the car that he didn’t like.

“Don’t touch my baby again!” Dean yelled at Sam’s retreating back.

Harry chuckled as he watched them, trying to figure out how they acted and reacted to one another as they interacted. It was all strange and new and no brothers he’d ever known ever acted like Sam and Dean did. Then again he only really knew the Weasleys.
Harry got up again, ignoring the pinch of pain from his body, and he went looking at the solitary tree that was within Bobby’s boundary lines, hoping to find a bird or maybe some more butterflies or even a beehive.

“Don’t go trying to climb that.” John called to him from the porch. “You’ll rip out your stitches.”

Harry smiled and he turned around and he went to sit beside John, watching him curiously.

“Do you know what this is?” John asked him as he clicked open the gun and rubbed an oily cloth over it.

“A gun.”

John snorted. “Do you know what sort?”

Harry stared at the gun, but it just looked like a gun to him. A very big, long gun. He shook his head.

“I just know that it’s a gun.”

“How do you not recognise a shotgun when you see one?”

“I’ve never seen one before.” Harry insisted. He studied the shotgun though…Ellen had threatened to use it on Paul if he had come into the Roadhouse after him. He understood better now why it would have been such a huge deterrent.

“You’ve never seen a shotgun before?” Dean asked him as he sat on Harry’s other side, wiping his hands clean of oil on a rag.

Harry shook his head.

“Not even in cartoons?”

“I’ve never been allowed to watch cartoons.” Harry told them softly.

The both of them took deep breaths and looked to be restraining themselves from shouting or from violence. Harry watched them curiously, a warm flutter in his belly at the new, unfamiliar emotions running through him.

“This is a handgun.” Dean told him, taking a gun from the pile that John had beside him.

Dean checked it over before he placed it in Harry’s hand and Harry frowned, passing it from hand to hand.

“Are you right or left handed?” Dean asked him suddenly, as if it had occurred to him that maybe Harry was left handed, which would compromise his grip on the right handed gun.

“Right handed. It’s just really heavy.” Harry said as he passed the gun into his right hand. “Is this country really so dangerous that everyone needs a gun?”

“Yes.” Dean told him shortly as he twisted Harry around and cupped his hands, showing him how to hold the gun and repositioning his hands and his back, kicking his legs further apart.

“Right foot forward.” John said from the side lines as he watched critically.

Dean used his own foot to push Harry’s further forward and Harry was seriously uncomfortable with the way that he was standing.

“This is horrible.” He complained as he tried to hold his body steady. “How do you do this for longer than ten seconds?”

“Practice.” John told him. “Practice and routine.”

“How does a gun protect you?” Harry asked curiously. “Having a gun doesn’t stop other people from shooting your head off.”

“The idea is to shoot them before they blow your head off.”

“Bloody savages.” Harry complained. “Death isn’t a game. I don’t like it and I don’t like holding this.”

Harry handed the gun back to Dean and wandered into the house to get his books. He came back out and he got the distinct impression that he’d interrupted an argument between Dean and John as he sat in the rickety chair on the porch and cracked open his book to carry on from where he’d left off.
From the mutters and hisses and then finally John stalking off, Harry assumed that whatever fight they’d been having, that Dean had actually won it.
He used the weathered old table to rest his notebook on and he spent another few hours reading and writing. John, who’d driven off in his big truck, didn’t come back in time for lunch.
When dinner time rolled around and John still wasn’t back, Harry was worried that he’d done something to ruin everything, but Dean and Sam didn’t even seem bothered or at all concerned that their Father was gone and hadn’t yet come back. It helped to calm him down a little, perhaps this was a usual occurrence? Maybe John always left for a long time after an argument.
Even so, by the time the night rolled around, Harry was almost a nervous wreck and he couldn’t focus or concentrate on anything as he sat and waited for John to come home. He wanted the assurance that he hadn’t upset him or angered him in anyway and not getting that reassurance was almost painful.
When eleven O’clock came around, and Bobby had forced two pills onto him, Harry was too drowsy to keep himself awake and it was Dean who forced him up to bed, taking the place that John usually did as he was escorted up the stairs, just in case he toppled over due to the strong painkillers, and even tucking him in.

“I used to do this with Sam.” Dean muttered nostalgically.

“But you’re only four years older than Sam.” Harry frowned.

“Sometimes it felt like I was twenty years older than him.” Dean said quietly as he made obsessively sure that the blankets were tucked around him. “You’re going to be fine, Harry. We’re going to make sure you’re fine.”

Harry got the impression that Dean was just rambling through his thoughts as he stared at the blanket covering Harry’s body.

“We’ve come to care for you a great deal, which is saying something given how dysfunctional we all are.” Dean laughed humourlessly. “But you can bet that we’re gonna protect you. There is nothing that’s ever going to touch you again, not without going through me first. I’m always gonna protect you and Sammy.”

“I can take care of myself, Dean and I’m not stupid. I know how to get myself out of trouble.”

“You don’t have to anymore.” Dean told him firmly. “You have me now.”

“Is…is he coming back?”

“Who, Dad? Of course he’s coming back, once he’s cooled off and pulled his head out from the inside of his arse.”

Harry gaped at Dean and his brother chuckled and ruffled his hair, frowning as it uncovered the lightning bolt scar on Harry’s forehead. He rubbed his thumb over it, but it was smooth, there wasn’t anything there to feel. It was an old scar, ages old and Dean had to swallow down a tidal wave of anger that wanted to rage out about the people who had done this to his own brother, about the people who were supposed to have cared for and protected him.

“Get some sleep and don’t worry about Dad, he’ll be back before you know it.”

“What if he isn’t back?”

“He will come back.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about him, Harry. Just let the painkillers do their job and get some sleep. If Dad isn’t back soon, me and Sammy are still here for you. But Dad will come back sooner or later, he always does.”

Harry nodded and he stopped fighting against the drowsiness caused by the pills he’d taken. He couldn’t wait until he no longer needed them.
Dean stayed and watched as Harry slipped off to sleep under the effect of the strong painkillers and he sighed, allowing the anger he felt to finally show, at those people and at his Dad for leaving like he did and making Harry so worried and insecure. All because of an argument over Harry not wanting to touch a gun.
Their Dad had wanted to force Harry into handling one and force him to learn how to shoot. Dean had argued against it when he’d seen the disgust on Harry’s face as he handed the gun back to him. Harry was never going to be comfortable handling guns and there was nothing that they could do about it. He was from a different country, one which didn’t have guns and where handling any sort of gun was illegal. Harry was from a different world to the one they lived in and they couldn’t change that. Forcing Harry to adapt completely to them wasn’t fair and Dean didn’t want to force Harry into doing anything that he didn’t want to do, especially when it wasn’t needed. It wasn’t like Harry was ever going to be going on hunts with them. Surely that wasn’t what their Dad was aiming at, because if it was, Dean wouldn’t allow it.
Dean smiled as he brushed the back of his fingers over Harry’s baby smooth cheeks before he sighed, tucking Harry in more firmly before leaving the room and going back downstairs. He needed to talk to Sam about what had happened with the gun and his fears over what their Dad wanted to teach Harry. They needed to protect Harry, and teach him how to protect himself, but that didn’t mean they had to force him to become a hunter like them either.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

John didn’t come back the next day and Dean and Sam noticed the drastic change in Harry as he withdrew completely into himself. He barely ate anything, despite their coaxing and he refused to take his pain pills despite Bobby’s best efforts. They all noticed that he was in pain too as he kept shifting his stitched shoulder agitatedly and flinching if he twisted his body even slightly.
Dean had already slipped out and left a very angry voicemail for their Dad, telling him exactly what his absence was doing to Harry. He couldn’t believe that his Dad had just gone and left for this long without calling Harry at least, they all had his cell number after Sam had suggested they all swap numbers, just in case.

“I knew he was angry, but this is fucking stupid.” Dean complained to Sam as they watched Harry angrily bat away another attempt that Bobby had made to get him take the pills.

“Harry’s so insecure at the moment that he’s getting stressed.” Sam told him with a sigh. “He’s back to being uncomfortable around us because he’s blaming himself for Dad leaving. He doesn’t know any of us well enough yet to know that this is just what Dad does.”

“I wish we could just get him to eat something.” Dean growled. “He hasn’t eaten properly all day and he’s skin and bone as it is.”

“He needs those painkillers too. It has crossed my mind that maybe he’s punishing himself for Dad leaving.”

“What? Why?!” Dean demanded. “He had no part in that. If anyone’s to blame it’s me!”

Sam bit his lip and looked at Harry before looking back to Dean. “He kept an open wound in his back, Dee. I’ve been looking things up online and I checked into why someone would do that and I found a site that mentioned something similar, what I read made sense. Harry said it himself that he was ‘punished’ for stupid reasons and I read that a child who is constantly punished for small things or even made up things, they start to punish themselves for things that they think they’ve done wrong. The open wound in his back, not taking his painkillers, it adds up, Dean.”

“So you’re saying that Harry isn’t eating or taking his pills because he’s punishing himself because he thinks that he’s the reason that Dad’s gone?”

Sam nodded.

Dean cursed. “I’m going to fucking kill Dad when he gets back for this. Right, you read the site, what do we do to stop him punishing himself for shit that isn’t his fault?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s a state of mind, Dean. It’ll take time to get him to stop thinking like he needs to punish himself when things go wrong.”

“So, you’re saying that we do nothing?!” Dean demanded, giving Sam a look, incredulously raised eyebrow and all.

“I’m saying that we can try, but we’re not going to change a childhood of abuse in a couple of hours. We need to be patient with him.”

Dean nodded and shoved a hand through his short, bristly hair. “Right, I can try to talk to him, tell him it was my fault Dad left, not his.”

“Don’t expect it to work, he’ll likely think you’re just saying that to get him to eat or take his pills.”

“For fucks sake.” Dean groaned. “Won’t anything work? I can’t sit here and watch him starve and writhe around in pain.”

“I’ve got an idea, it might not work, but I can try.”

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’ll try anything at this point.”

Sam shook his head. “No, you won’t like it and if this doesn’t work, he’ll need you.”

“Sam!” Dean hissed at him as his brother made his way over to Harry. Sam ignored him and Dean cursed and wandered back into the safety of the kitchen, Bobby joined him a moment later, looking old and weary.

“That kid’s more stubborn than all of you.” He complained as he wiped his forehead with the side of his hand and replaced the ball cap on his head. “What’s Sam saying to him?”

“No idea, but if it works I don’t care. I can’t believe this!” He burst out, resuming his angry pacing. “A week he’s been with us and Dad already bails! We all knew it was gonna be difficult, but at least me an’ Sam are trying here, Bobby! We don’t get the option of bailing and going to hunt, not with Harry, but at the first sign of trouble, that’s exactly what Dad does! Doesn’t he care about any of us at all?”

“He does and you know he does.” Bobby told him sternly.

“I do, but Harry doesn’t!” Dean said through clenched fists and gritted teeth. “He could have at least told Harry where he was going, he could call him and say when he’s coming back! No, he just left and now Harry feels abandoned and he won’t eat or take his pills and I don’t know what to do here, Bobby! What am I supposed to do?”

“You sit down and grab a coffee.” Bobby told him. “Let Sam talk to him and then if that doesn’t work, we’ll try something else. We ain’t giving up on that boy.”

Dean breathed out deeply and sat heavily in a chair. Bobby made him a coffee and placed it in front of him as they both sat quietly, trying to listen out for anything from the other room, but it was all silent.

“I can’t stand this.” Dean complained half an hour later. “How do we know they’re still in there?”

“They’re still there.” Bobby told him. “Give Sam some time to talk to him.”

At the hour mark, Dean’s foot was continuously bouncing off of the floor and he was feeling antsy about sitting still for so long. He was just about to go and drag Sam away and demand what was happening when Sam himself walked into the kitchen.

“Well?!” He demanded, more angrily than he’d intended.

“He ate an apple and took his pills. He’s sleeping.” Sam told him softly as he sat himself in a chair.

“How’d you manage that?” Bobby asked as Dean blew out a relieved breath.

“I, sort of blackmailed him into it.” Sam admitted with a sigh. “I told him that he was upsetting us by not eating and not taking his pills because I knew the last thing that he would want to do at the moment is upset us like he thinks he’s upset Dad. He likes it here, he likes being with us, he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that.”

“So, you tricked him into it by using us potentially abandoning him like he thinks Dad has if he didn’t do what we say?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded. “Basically. We both know that we’d never throw him out on his ass, we just needed to get him to eat something and take those pills. I never actually said we’d abandon him, I said he was upsetting us, which he was. I just left him to come to his own conclusion about what that meant and as an abused kid, he is overly paranoid and he overthought it and he came to the worst case scenario first an took it as the truth which is us sending him back to where he came from.”

“That’s not right, Sam.” Dean growled.

“I know it’s not!” Sam defended. “I told you that you wouldn’t like it, but he ate something and he took his pills. Now as soon as Dad’s back and smooths this over, we can go back to reassuring him and breaking this mind set of his.”

“What mind set?” Bobby demanded.

Sam sighed. “He wasn’t eating or taking the pills as a sort of punishment to himself because those people he lived with used to punish him for stupid reasons or even fabricated ones that Harry never actually did.”

“They made up bad behaviour just so they could punish him?” Bobby asked, appalled.

Sam nodded. “Now Harry thinks it’s normal to punish himself if he does things that he thinks are his fault.”

“And he thinks that Dad getting angry and leaving is his fault.” Dean added.

“So he’s starving himself and not taking his pills so he’ll be in constant pain as a punishment to himself.” Sam finished.

“Oh hell.” Bobby sighed and massaged the area just under the rim of his ball cap. “John needs to get back here yesterday.”

“Don’t we know it.” Sam sighed. “But hey, Harry’s sleeping right now, we need to call around a bit and see if anyone’s seen Dad. I’m not sure using the excuse of us being upset is going to work a second time on Harry, so when he wakes up, he’s probably not gonna eat or take any more pills if Dad’s still not here.”

“I’m gonna kill him when he gets back.” Dean said seriously.

“Get in line, kid.” Bobby told him, just as seriously.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Harry woke up slowly and in stages. He frowned as he found that his eyelids were heavy and he was overly warm. He slipped an arm out of the blanket that was tucked up around him and thought of maybe opening his eyes and sitting up, but he was so comfortable that he didn’t really want to. Not yet.
At least he didn’t until someone carefully took his arm and gently manhandled it back under his blanket before tucking the blanket back under his chin. He blinked while his eyes were still closed before he peeled them open carefully, staring blearily up through the searing light at a sheepish Dean.

“Time’s it?” He asked sleepily.

“Almost five.” Dean answered, sitting on the edge of the settee and blocking out most of the light streaming in through the living room window.

Harry forced his eyes open and blinked a couple of times, raising his hands to rub at them to get them used to the light level before looking back at Dean, who was smirking at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just really cute.”

Harry scoffed and went to sit himself up, but he suddenly found himself pulled up by Dean’s large hands. The blanket was automatically tucked in around his hips to keep his legs covered. He was used to Dean’s teasing and fussing by now and he mostly ignored it.
Harry yawned widely as he woke up more and he looked around the deserted living room.

“He’s still not back, is he?”

“Nah, not yet. He will be though. He does this all the time, Harry. Hell before you went looking for us, me and Sammy hadn’t seen him in about nine weeks.”

“But why?” Harry asked.

“We have the same job, but Dad is in a class of his own, so me and Sammy stick together and Dad goes off and does another job elsewhere.”

Harry frowned and bit a heavily scabbed lip.

“Stop doing that, you’ll pull the scab off again and make it bleed and it’ll take twice as long to heal.” Dean chastised him, using a thumb to ease the lip out from between little teeth.

“Am I stopping you all from doing your jobs?” He asked guiltily, his large green eyes so wide and pathetic that Dean wanted to hold him close and keep him shielded from everything bad in the world.

“No!” Dean replied immediately. “To tell you the truth it’s been great taking a break for once and meeting you is way more important.”

Harry’s cheeks went slightly red as he blushed, but he looked very pleased, so Dean assumed that he’d definitely said something right and he mentally applauded himself.

“Come on then. Up you get. Bobby’s got dinner on and you probably need to stretch your legs.”

Dean helped Harry stand and then tried not to hover over him as he stretched out his back and then made his way to the kitchen.

“Hey sleeping beauty.” Sam greeted with a smile.

Harry actually smiled back and sat next to him. Sam threw an arm around him, careful of his still bruised body and the stitches and gave him a short hug, but it made Harry smile widely as he accepted the glass of milk that Dean put in front of him.
Harry frowned at the glass and he sighed, drinking it down with a grimace.

“Do you not like milk?” Dean asked with a frown.

“I’ve never had it before.” Harry said as he pulled a face at the slightly sour, strange taste of the white liquid.

“Do you like cheese or yoghurt?” Bobby asked him.

Harry shrugged. “Cheese is alright, but I haven’t tried yoghurt either.”

“How much cheese do you eat?”

“Not much, why?” Harry asked with a frown.

“You probably have a calcium deficiency.” Bobby told him. “God knows what else you might be deficient in thanks to those people.”

Harry looked down at the table.

“Hey, that’s not your fault, Harry. It’s theirs.” Sam told him gently. “We’re going to take care of you now that you’re staying with us permanently.”

Harry looked back up quickly before looking at all three of them. “I can stay?”

“Of course you’re staying!” Dean burst out. “Face it, you’re stuck with us now.”

Harry grinned so widely and happily that it stretched one of his scabs too far and it cracked and started to bleed. Dean sighed and tore off a sheet of paper towel and cleaned it up for Harry, whose wide, expressive green eyes stared into his unwaveringly. The trust and happiness in those eyes hurt Dean’s heart. He really was going to kill his Dad. He didn’t know how he could stay away from Harry, not from those puppy eyes that were so happy.
Bobby served up large plates of food and they all watched subtly, but worriedly, as Harry seemed to just sit there and stare. They wondered for half a moment if he was going to refuse to eat again before he snapped himself out of whatever thoughts he was thinking and shifted slightly closer to the table, picked up his fork and he just started eating with no fuss. His eyes were still slightly distant, and he seemed to be eating on automatic, but at least he was actually eating now and they could all take a moment to just breathe in relief over that. How long it would last, they didn’t know, but for now, Harry was eating an actual meal and he seemed somewhat happy for the first time since John had left.

“You want to watch a film after dinner?” Dean asked him. “I went out and got soda and popcorn.”

Harry smiled at that and he nodded. “Yes, please.”

“God you make me feel like an uncouth heathen.” Dean complained.

“You are an uncouth heathen.” Sam pointed out and Harry chuckled, turning away and drinking more milk.

“Laugh it up, I’ll corrupt you yet! You’ll be an uncouth heathen too in no time!” Dean told him and Harry laughed again. “There will be no more of this polite Britishness.”

Harry couldn’t help the laugh this time as Dean impersonated the accent of a stereotypical Englishman…very badly.

“Ow!” He complained, scowling and touching his hand to his ribs.

That was the end of his peace as Bobby stood and got his pills for him and Dean got him a glass of water to gulp down the pills. He was watched closely and he sighed, but he was feeling odd, strange, he had never felt so many confusing feelings before in his life. He didn’t know how to deal with them or even how to interpret them, so he pushed them away again.
Once he was done, he allowed Dean and Sam to sandwich him between them with glass bottles of coke, crisps and popcorn and Dean put another old film on for him to watch. It was nice to share in with such a personal bond with his two brothers, sharing in with something that they liked to do and he found himself relaxing and laughing with both Dean and Sam, spreading out between them, not even noticing that he was touching them both or that they were touching him. He didn’t care and he was completely comfortable between them both.
The evening passed quickly because he was enjoying himself so much and Dean even allowed him to stay up past his ‘bedtime’ to watch one final film. Laughing at Dean, who was quoting the lines at him and Sam, who told him to shut the hell up already, which made Harry laugh more.
It was gone midnight by the time Bobby insisted that Harry go up to bed and he did so reluctantly, with both Sam and Dean escorting him.

“Go do your teeth, dude.” Dean ordered and Harry, who had just popped his head out of the hole of his pyjama top, nodded and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face.

He crawled into his bed and wriggled around a little to get comfortable as Sam and Dean hovered over him.

“Are you alright?” Sam asked him.

“Don’t engage his brain before he goes to sleep, Sam!” Dean said. “Let him go to sleep.”

“I’m okay.” Harry said softly.

“No pain?” Dean asked, staring at him hard.

Harry shook his head as he was tucked in. “No. I’m okay, really.”

“Don’t worry about Dad.” Dean told him. “He will be back and it was me who made him leave. It was me he was arguing with.”

“Over me.” Harry said.

“Nah, not about you, about our job.” Dean insisted so blithely that Harry had no other choice but to accept it and not argue.

He nodded, settling down, and he yawned widely. He closed his eyes and laid still, waiting as he heard his brothers leave the room. He turned onto his back and opened his eyes, staring up at the dark ceiling.
He wondered if John would come back. He knew he shouldn’t have made so many waves, the Dursleys had taught him that much. He grimaced as he remembered some of the hard, painful lessons that he’d had to learn over the years. He should have known better than to argue or make waves.
He took a deep breath and rolled back onto his side, looking at John’s empty bed beside his own. He bit his lip and he swore to himself to do better. He didn’t want to go back to the Dursleys, not ever. He couldn’t go back to being a slave or a punching bag now, not when he knew that he had a biological Father and two, full blooded brothers. It just wouldn’t be fair, so he swore to do better, he swore not to make any more trouble. He didn’t want to give John, or Dean and Sam, any reason at all to send him back to Britain, back to his painful existence with the Dursleys and the dangers of the magical world. He had to just shut his mouth and do everything that he was told to do, even if he didn’t like it. As soon as John came back, as Dean and Sam insisted that he would be back at some point, he would ask to learn how to use the guns, even though he didn’t like them and the thought of actually using them on either a person or an animal made him want to throw up. He needed to be better, he needed to act how they wanted him to act or they would send him straight back to the Dursleys and he knew that he would never get a second chance like this ever again. He had thought that the Dursleys were his only blood relatives, but one trip to Gringotts had disproved that. He was not at all blood related to the Dursleys and he had a living Father and two older brothers, and that was more than he had ever thought he’d get after learning of his own ‘story’.
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He couldn’t give them a reason to get rid of him. He couldn’t argue or make waves. He would do everything that he was now told to do with no questions or fussing. He really wanted to stay here and not just because he didn’t want to go back to Britain or to the Dursleys or the waiting war with Voldemort, but because he had come to like it here, he had come to like Sam and Dean and he wanted to stay with them. He wanted to get to know them better, Bobby and John too, and he wanted to know them properly, like real family and he wanted them to like him in return.
Sighing out loud in the darkness of his room, he made up his mind to be better, to try harder. He was very used to doing as such at the Dursleys, and at Hogwarts too if he were honest. No one truly knew who Harry Potter was because no one wanted to know who the real Harry Potter was. He hadn’t even known his own name or parentage, so really, how could he expect others to know the real him when he didn’t even know who the real him was. He felt more alone in that moment than he ever had before, devoid of his own personality and sense of self. Who was he truly? It was sad when he realised that he couldn’t even answer that fundamental question. He didn’t know who he was as he’d never truly known himself.
He’d never been allowed to express himself or his own desires, the Dursleys had seen to that, and then he’d been thrust into a mould when he escaped to the wizarding world. He was to be their saviour, the Boy-Who-Lived, their little scapegoat and a sacrificial lamb all rolled into one and he’d never even gotten the chance to say no to all of that. It had immediately been dumped on his shoulders, from the very first moment that Hagrid had taken him into the Leaky Cauldron and he’d had his hand shaken by every patron inside the pub. From that moment onwards, he had been forced to take up the mantel of the saviour, of the wizarding world’s expectations and he had never had any other choice but to shoulder that pressure too.
He had thought that by coming here, by finding his true blood family, that he could finally find out who he truly was, what he truly wanted, but it seemed that he was destined to always live up to the expectations of others, never those of himself. He was not going to get the chance to do what he wanted to do, he was not going to get the chance to explore himself. He had gone from one mask, to a mould and now he was going to have to make a new one to fit in here too. It wasn’t fair, but he had to make the best of it.
He had two options now, the Dursleys and Hogwarts, or here with the Winchesters and out of the two options, being able to stay here, with his real Father and his older brothers, it was the better option in his opinion. It was the one that he wanted and being able to choose that for himself was more than he’d ever gotten to choose for himself in his life. It would be alright, he consoled himself. Everything would end up fine, because he was now going to force himself into a new mould, one that would allow him to fit in perfectly here, with his blood family, so that they wouldn’t have a reason to ever get rid of him. Everything would be fine as long as he was allowed to stay here with his family, so he would make it happen, no matter the cost or personal sacrifice it required.

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A/N: I promised this chapter tonight and I was determined to do it. So here we have our next chapter for Tainted Blood. Don’t worry about John either, he’s just doing what John does, he’ll be back.
For those asking about Hedwig, it’ll take her a while to reach Harry, but she is on her way.
Our next update will be The Rise of the Drackens, now that real life is actually cutting me a break, so if you’re reading that fic, I’ll see you next week.
As always, I hope that you’ve enjoyed this chapter and I’ll be back with it whenever I can between all my other fics,

StarLight Massacre. X
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The Tainted Blood of the Father