Speak Now: A Remus Lupin & Harry Potter Hurt/Comfort Mentor Fic

Victims

Lupin's disappointment burned.

Harry felt it when he stepped back into the Gryffindor common room, and it weighed on him when he settled into bed. He felt much like he had back in the third year, when Lupin had confiscated the Marauder's Map from him and scolded him for risking his life and dishonoring his parents' sacrifice. He was surprised, then, how much more a lecture could hurt coming from someone who he respected. Snape didn't hold back with his cruel words, but they never stung nearly as much as Lupin's careful, gentle chastisement.

He wasn't sure what Lupin was going to do next, and thinking about it kept him awake, tossing and turning. He was pretty sure Lupin would talk to McGonagall now, and he couldn't imagine it going well.

But what followed in the next few weeks didn't give Harry any clues about what Lupin might have done or said. Umbridge was as horrible and unhelpful in class as she ever was, but he couldn't tell whether she was getting worse because of something he did, or if it was just a natural escalation. He avoided any more detentions with her, but he would have happily accepted another nine detentions over what did happen.

Banned from Quidditch. For life.

Harry considered reaching out to Lupin, but he knew it wouldn't help. There would be nothing he could do. He did send a message by Owl, as he'd been occasionally writing to Lupin along with writing to Sirius, but there was no point in meeting face to face for this. If Harry were injured, Murtlap could help. But there was nothing that could have helped with this.

He was able to distract himself with other matters over the holidays, but there were new complications when classes resumed. Umbridge released a new order that forbade Hogwarts professors from speaking with their students about anything other than their academic subject areas.

It was a frustrating development, though far from the worst they'd had. At least it lead to some funny stories in classes. Harry's favorite was when Lee Jordan reminded Umbridge that she wasn't allowed to tell him off for playing Exploding Snap in class, because it wasn't part of the curriculum.

A few days later, Harry passed Jordan in the corridors.

He was smiling a bit—he almost always was—but Harry knew what Jordan's smile looked like, and this wasn't it. The corners of his eyes twitched just a bit, and his breathing was a bit labored. Harry glanced down at his hand. He'd wrapped it in a scarf. The fabric of the scarf was already red, so anyone who wasn't looking for it might not notice that blood was seeping through.

Jordan passed by, giving Harry a quick nod. Harry glanced around him to make sure no one was around, then turned to call after Jordan, "What did she make you write?"

Jordan stopped short, whirling to face Harry. "How did you know?"

Harry held out his own hand. "I must not tell lies."

Jordan's eyes widened when he saw the mark, then he smirked and glanced down at his own hand. "I must behave."

Harry winced. The shorter sentence meant more repetition over the same areas—no wonder he was bleeding so badly. And internally, he was kicking himself. Lupin had been right. Harry had been so convinced that he would be Umbridge's only victim, but Lupin had known better. This was Harry's fault.

"It's gonna be a wicked scar," Jordan said. There was humor in his voice and a curl to his lips, but the pain in his eyes ruined the effect.

Harry made himself smile along, but his eyes fell back on the bloodied scarf. Jordan had been headed away from the common rooms, so maybe . . . "Are you going to tell Dumbledore?" Harry asked.