A/N: I own nothing but the usual.

Note – This is the ONLY HP/Twilight x-over I've ever written, or THOUGHT of writing. He/She who gets it best DAMN well appreciate it, because I did NOT like the Twilight Saga. The movies sucked, and while I think some of the FanFictions are pretty awesome in some respects, the Books were bad too! Sorry if I burst your bubbles, people, but I am of the opinion that real vampires SHOULD NOT SPARKLE! I prefer my spontaneously-combustible vampires, thank-you-very-much!

…

As you can see, it took quite a lot to make me write a Twilight work of any kind. The inspiration?

Twinkies.

I kid you not, I ate a whole box of Twinkies, and this is what happened. When I ran out of Twinkies, I couldn't write any more, and so it is up for adoption.

COLLAR RULES

1. Edward can read Harry's mind.

2. NONMAGIC

3. Harry is gay, and he MUST be all panic-driven about it because of the Dursley's.

4. Harry is afraid of Carlisle for being a doctor, but utterly adores Esme. Nervous about Emmett for being so big, and Alice for being so hyper. Likes Jasp. & Rose. Just for some weird reason you can make up, but is still shy. Only likes Edward because he makes Bella happy, and doesn't like him when he makes her unhappy or sad.

5. NOT A Harry/Jacob FIC! Pick someone else, PREFERABLE someone from the Vulturi, because I've seen all the Cullens and Wolves done, and they get BORING! (Pouts) The Volturi are always fun, though~!

6. The scene at the end (Minor Spoiler alert, I guess). You must have them end up taking Harry to Doctor Cullen OR sending for Doctor Cullen, and therefore introduce his utter terror of all things doctor.

Okay, that's it.

No flames from Twilighters or Twi-Nazis! I will use them to roast you with! (Rolls eyes) Seriously, "Which team are you on, Edward or Jacob?" Puh-lease!

Just

R&R Already!

Forks and Spoons

PROLOGUE

"Hello?" Charlie Swan said into the phone sleepily, rubbing brown eyes wearily. He'd just gotten to bed, having been unable to sleep all night. It was five-thirty in the morning. He had to be at work in two hours. Sighing, he rolled out of bed.

"I'm looking for Charlie Swan?" A woman's voice said over the phone; Charlie grimaced. He might as well wake Bella up so she could shower and such before school. Absently, he noted that the woman on the phone had an English accent. Odd.

"Speaking," he replied, pulling on pants.

"This is Jennifer Wilks with Social Services," the woman said calmly; Charlie froze, startled.

"What's this about?" He asked warily.

"Your cousin Vernon Dursley has been arrested," she told him coolly, "as has his wife, Petunia. Mr. Dursley's sister is willing to take their son, but she was unwilling to take in Petunia's nephew, who has been staying with them since the death of his parents." Charlie was stock-still as his mind flashed back. He remembered Vernon, a cruel little shit who had a temper and an obsessive need to make others feel bad about themselves unless he wanted something.

"What," he said coolly. "Were they arrested for, Ms. Wilks?" Silence, then the woman cleared her throat.

"Child abuse, criminal negligence, and child endangerment," she replied quietly. "All against the nephew, none against their own child." Charlie was pale, now, his clothes forgotten.

"And you called me," he trailed off.

"The nephew, Harry Potter, needs a guardian," Wilks told him simply. "We prefer to ask family before setting children into foster homes. He's fifteen, and very well behaved," there was a slight edge when she said it; Charlie pursed his lips.

"What was the extent of the abuse?" he asked quietly; Ms. Wilks sighed softly.

"Mental, physical, and emotional," she said. "We believe there might have also been sexual, but Harry's not talking. He's been well… trained, not to talk to the police or workers, and he's deathly afraid of doctors and hospitals, as he showed by nearly seizing when he realized he was in one after he woke up." Charlie closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'll take him," he decided after a few moments of silence; Ms. Wilks's sigh of relief crackled over the line.

"I'll fax you the paperwork," she said; Charlie gave her the fax for Forks Police Department. "After it goes through, I'll fly over with Harry myself. Thank you for speaking with me at this time, Mr. Swan," Charlie grunted and said goodbye, before hanging up. Staring at his hands, he sighed softly, eyes closing. Child abuse. God.

"Dad?" Bella asked sleepily from the door; Charlie looked up wearily at his daughter. "Who was that?" Charlie looked down at the phone.

"That," he said quietly. "Was the Social Services officer in London. Your cousin Harry is going to come stay with us for a while." Bella stared at him, sleepy brown eyes confused.

"I have a cousin?"

ONE

Bella sat on a bench in the airport, waiting as the plane holding her unknown cousin landed and began to unload. She had a sign with his name written in large, red magic marker, and was biting her lip nervously. Charlie had wanted to be there, but he had to work. Since the plane wouldn't land until after school, Bella had agreed to go and pick him up. In all honesty, she didn't mind. She was curious about her younger cousin, and had really wanted to meet him. Now they had a good hour and a half to talk on the ride back to Forks.

Standing, she moved hesitantly into the crowd of people also waiting as the plane-riders walked out. Carefully, she held her sign, shifting from foot to foot. Her eyes dragged over the people, looking for anyone who could be her cousin. As she watched, though, a woman in a navy business skirt and jacket, with a purple blouse, walked towards her. Her hand rested on the shoulder of a small boy, who had messy black hair, pale skin, and was incredibly thin. He was picking at a black t-shirt and blue jeans, both of which looked brand new, and kept his head down. The woman looked around, saw Bella, read her sign, and smiled, turning the boy toward her. When they got close; Bella blurted,

"Harry Potter?" The boy glanced up, and Bella saw a dark purple bruise took up most of the left side of his face, swollen and painful looking. His eyes, she also realized, were the most gorgeous shade of green she'd ever seen, half-hidden behind glasses that also looked new, with small, rectangular lenses. The woman offered her hand with a polite smile.

"Jennifer Wilks," she said; Bella blinked and took her hand.

"Bella Swan," she replied. "I'm Charlie's daughter." She glanced at her little cousin, and marveled that this tiny boy was fifteen. Wilks placed her hands on the boy's shoulders gently, but he still flinched, looking at his new black and white Nikes once more.

"This is Harry," she said gently. "Harry, meet your cousin, Bella." Harry glanced up at her through his bangs.

"Hello," he said, voice soft and lilting, almost musical. He had the smallest amount of hoarseness that suggested he either talked too much (Not likely, Bella thought) or too little. She smiled and carefully offered her hand, not moving too fast.

"Hello, Harry," she said warmly; he hesitantly took her hand, his fingers long and thin. His entire hand and wrist looked so delicate that Bella was afraid it would break, until she felt the thick calluses on his palm and fingertips. It was a hand that worked hard and worked well, and she firmed her handshake a bit, still smiling. She wouldn't treat him like glass for the most part, she decided. More like aluminum. Strong but easily torn and crumpled.

"I leave him in your hands, Miss Swan," Wilks announced, then squeezed the boy's thin shoulders gently, before letting go. Bella continued to hold her tiny cousins hand, and he didn't pull away. They stared at each other for a few seconds, before Bella smiled.

"Let's go get your stuff," she said; he nodded slightly. Holding his hand, the seventeen-year-old led him to the luggage area, where he patiently waited, before pulling out a dark green backpack and a medium sized wheeled suitcase. When Bella noticed him shift while picking it up, favoring his right side, she silently scooped up the suitcase by the handle, pulling out the lever so it would wheel, and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he murmured; she smiled and took his free hand and his backpack, leading the way through the rest of the airport. When they reached her old monster of a truck, Bella put his things up front.

"It's almost always raining in Forks," she explained; Harry gave her a thin smile.

"Sounds like England," he said; Bella chuckled.

"Lots of rain, little sun, everything's the same, and not much fun," she rhymed; Harry let out a small laugh.

"Exactly like England, then," he said. "I'll feel right at home." Something flashed in his eyes, sad and pained, but his face never twitched from its small smile. Bella climbed in and buckled up, and Harry did the same. As she drove, Bella chatted cheerfully about Forks. The school, the people, the weather. About Charlie, the Blacks, the Cullens, her friends at school. She told him about the woods and beaches, the animals and the sights. Harry listened, utterly silent, but focused on her, bright eyes filled with the desperate need to know his new home, seeming to absorb her every word. Bella found it surprisingly relaxing. He was a great listener.

She didn't even realize how fast time had gone by until she was pulling into her driveway. Startled, she blinked rapidly, staring at the white house. Harry silently observed her, then looked at the house.

"That is the most I've ever talked in, well," she blinked. "Ever." Harry gave her that small, almost-not-there smile that she was getting used to seeing. "I'll show you to your room, okay?" she announced, and they climbed out of the truck. Harry glanced at it, observing and taking in details; Bella smiled at him.

"It's not much to look at," she said, picking up his backpack. "But it runs, and it's mine, so it's perfect." Harry looked at her, hesitantly.

"I like old things," he said softly. "They're much simpler and more reliable." Bella nodded, taking his hand and tugging. He grabbed his suitcase's lever and silently followed her. She led him on a tour of the house, pointing out rooms and pictures, and chatting about this and that. Harry merely listened, taking it all in.

"This is your room," she announced, opening the door to the guest room. Charlie and her had cleaned it thoroughly, though it still smelled faintly of mothballs. Harry looked around, leaning his suitcase against the wall. Bella set his pack beside it, and fidgeted nervously. "It's not much, and kind of small, and smelly, but-" Harry interrupted, something he hadn't done once before.

"It's perfect," he murmured, turning a sweet smile on her, which was wider and warmer, lighting up his eyes. Bella was immediately hit with the desire to make him smile like that more often. It made her pretty cousin beautiful, even with the nasty bruises. She smiled back, and felt happiness bubble up inside her without knowing why. She helped him unpack, watching as he neatly and efficiently folded and sorted his clothes into the small brown dresser, hung things in his tiny closet, and placed his backpack beside the chair of his old, creaky desk. The dark green comforter of his bed was straightened and smoothed, his pillows neatly fluffed and rearranged, and his lamp turned slightly so that the switch was pointed towards the bed. Then he sat in the desk chair and just looked around, expression serene and pleased. Bella smiled at him warmly.

"Want to help me make dinner?" She asked; his face immediately brightened.

"I love cooking," he said softly; she smiled and once more took his hand, now out of absentminded habit.

"Charlie will be home in an hour," she told the boy cheerfully. "What would you like to make?" He bit his lip, nibbling it as he thought. Bella thought he looked adorable.

"Lasagna?" he asked softly; Bella pursed her lips, then nodded.

"I've never made it before," she told him, "but I can learn! And I can run to the store to get things that you need. Should we have anything with it?" He tilted his head.

"Corn would be good," he said as they entered the kitchen. Immediately, he set to getting things ready, cleaning dishes efficiently and quickly. Bella got a can of sweet corn and the can opener. Harry snatched up a pen and a piece of paper, and began to scribble down a list of things he'd need.

"If you can't find some of this," he said softly, "or if it's too expensive, we can improvise." Bella nodded and pulled on her coat, grabbed her wallet, and was out the door and in her truck, driving to the store. Harry set about, opening the can of corn and dumping it into a pot after pouring out most of the liquid in the can, adding a scoop of butter in. He stirred it carefully, watching as the butter melted. He tossed in a bit of pepper and some salt, and stirred. Fifteen minutes later, Bella returned with three bags of food, everything from the list. Harry set her to stirring the corn for a few minutes while he got everything ready. When he was done, he set the corn on simmer and showed Bella how to put the pasta noodles into the boiling water.

TWO

An hour and a half later, Charlie walked in with a twelve-pack of beer, and nearly drooled as the smell of food slammed into him and soft laughter filtered in from the kitchen.

"Bella?" he called; she poked her head out of the kitchen, a smudge of red sauce on her eyebrow, of all places. She grinned at him, brown eyes sparkling brightly.

"Hey, Charlie!" She greeted happily. "It's almost done, so go ahead and wait in the living room. Me and Harry will get you when it's ready. Oh!" She blinked as Billy Black wheeled in, Jacob standing behind him. "Hi Billy! Hi Jacob! You staying to eat? We went a bit overboard," she said teasingly, glancing over her shoulder. A soft, male voice laughed beautifully.

"Sorry," a musical voice called sweetly, accent adding an interesting lilt to his words. Bella grinned; Billy sniffed the air eagerly.

"Definitely staying, then," he announced; Jacob snorted, amused, but nodded eagerly, stomach rumbling. Bella beamed at them, face lighting up beautifully. It was the happiest Charlie had seen his daughter in a long while. She'd gotten closer to it when she'd started dating that Cullen boy, but not this happy. He was suddenly; insanely glad he'd agreed to take his nephew in. Bella disappeared into the kitchen, and Jacob wheeled Billy over to sit beside Charlie's chair. The Chief handed his old friend a beer, opening one himself as he sat. Jacob moved towards the kitchen, sniffing, sighing happily at the aromas.

"Careful, Bella," the musical voice from before warned. "The pan is hot." A small boy with black hair and pale skin stood, his back to the doorway, watching as Bella carefully carried a pan of cheesy lasagna to the table and set it down. Beside it was another pan, thinner with less cheese, and a pot of corn. Jacob took a slow, deep breath, sighing happily. Then he knocked on the doorframe, so he wouldn't startle them.

The boy turned, and froze, blinking up at Jacob. Way, way up. He stared, shocked, gorgeous green eyes huge with disbelief.

"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed. "What do they feed you Americans? Steroids?" Jacob burst out laughing, and Bella giggled in the background. Harry put his hands on his hips, frowning up at him. "I felt bleeding short back home, but come over here and feel like a bloody midget! I demand you shrink," he ordered, "right now." He crossed his arms and tapped his foot, waiting. Jacob and Bella were nearly in stitches, they were laughing so hard. A small smile lifted the boys pink mouth, before he firmed it into a stern expression.

"Do not laugh at me!" He said, looking indignant though his eyes were filled with shy mirth. "I demand you stop laughing! Stop that! No food for you!" he threatened, shaking a finger at Jacob, then at Bella. "Or you! Naughty children," he sniffed, nose in the air and acting prim. Jacob was howling with laughter, hands on his knees and eyes starting to tear up. Bella was collapsed against the fridge, giggling so hard she was gasping for breath. Charlie came in, Billy right behind him.

"What on Earth is going on in here?" he asked, bewildered; Harry gave him an absolutely serious expression.

"Drugs," he said promptly, pointing at the laughing teens. "These delinquents have obviously partaken in illegal paraphernalia, Chief Swan, and in the house of a man of the law no less!" He frowned at the laughing teens disapprovingly, wagging his finger. "For shame!" Charlie snorted and covered his mouth; Billy snickered. Harry frowned at them. "What is the matter with you Americans? What is so bloody funny?" Bella gasped for breath, giggling still.

"It's," she gasped, "it's th-the acc-accent!" She choked out, laughing; Harry looked offended.

"That's not polite at all!" He cried, pouting, before a smile twitched his lips and a giggle escaped. Instantly, his eyes went wide and he clapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh no! It's contagious!" He cried, looking properly horrified, before cracking up with the others. When the laughter had wound down to a few snickers, Harry and Bella began to dish out the food.

"The smaller one I made myself," Bella said proudly. "Harry taught me how. Of course," she added, taking a mouthful of Harry's lasagna and sighing blissfully. "It's not nearly as good as the one he made." Harry blushed and ducked his head shyly. Jacob was on his third helping, and merely grunted, digging into the food eagerly. Harry was on his first, and was eating slowly, cradling the plate close and savoring every bite. He'd eaten his corn first.

"So, Harry," Billy spoke up, full from his two large slices of lasagna and corn, leaning back in his wheelchair. "Are you excited about school?" Harry glanced over at him.

"Yes, Billy," he replied simply, smiling slightly. He'd made the mistake of calling him Mr. Black earlier in the meal, and had been accused of making him feel old. As it was, he somehow managed to sound more formal, calling him Billy. It drove the older man nuts and had Charlie snickering.

"What classes are you taking?" Jacob asked curiously; Harry nibbled his lip, thinking.

"Honors English one, Algebra one, World History, Physical Science, Art, Physical Education, and Spanish." He blinked, then nodded. "My ELO class is Art, which is good. I like art," he murmured shyly, ducking his head. Jacob blinked.

"You're a freshman?" He asked, bewildered; Harry nodded. "You're older then I thought." Harry gave him a narrow-eyed look.

"That was a jab at my petite form!" He accused. "I may look like I'm eleven but I could still kick your bloody arse from here to England and back, Big Boy!" He snarked, scowling and looking affronted. Jacob smirked.

"Someone has height issues," he taunted playfully; Harry smirked.

"At least I'm not over-compensating for my, ah, short comings, eh?" He mocked; Jacob blinked, not getting it. Billy and Charlie choked, snickering, and the tall boy glared at them.

"What?" He demanded. Charlie leaned over and whispered in his ear. Jacob's eyes grew wide. "Oh… Oh!" he glowered at Harry, who was smiling innocently up at him. "Not cool, Short-Stack, not cool at all." Harry tilted his head cutely, giving him huge, cocker spaniel-worthy, puppy-dog-eyes. Jacob winced and looked away, coughing to clear his throat. "I loose," he told the adults simply. "He's got weapons of uber strength to use against me, and a British vocabulary." Billy patted his son's broad shoulder with a calm nod.

"The Britishness is the fulcrum of his power," he assured his son; Harry turned those puppy-dog-eyes on the older man, who blinked, startled, then looked at Charlie. "You're doomed," he told his friend, who sighed.

"Doomed," he agreed; Bella looked at the three men, then turn to Harry with an eager expression.

"Teach me, Oh Wise One Of Epic Puppy-Dog-Eye Proportions, teach me!" She begged; Harry nodded solemnly.

"Very well, grasshopper, very well," he said; Charlie groaned as they burst into giggles.

"Totally doomed," he muttered, morose. Everyone laughed, and he smiled. Billy and Jacob said goodbye ten minutes later, taking home half of the remaining lasagna at Harry's insistence, declaring that Billy needed more food since Jacob seemed to eat it all and turn it into muscle. That earned him a grin and a swat from Jacob, which he dodged with surprising ease.

They left after that, and Harry found himself cuddling next to Bella on the couch, Charlie in his chair, and watching a show called Criminal Minds. He really liked Morgan and Reid, as well as Garcia. He thought their interactions were fun and amusing. As he watched it, though, Jetlag caught him, the evil thing, and he fell asleep. Charlie, when the show was over, gently carried him upstairs and kissed his head, covering him up with his blanket and setting the small alarm next to the bed for six. He kissed Bella goodnight and went to bed himself, a smile on his face.

He was definitely glad he'd taken his nephew in.

THREE

When Bella and Charlie got up at six, it was to the delicious smell of cooking food and coffee. They both got dressed and stumbled downstairs fifteen minutes later, half-asleep and hungry. Harry was dressed and ready to leave, his bag beside one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He was humming softly as the small radio on the shelf played country music at pitch that was barely above a whisper. He looked up, green eyes bright and shy before he went back to cooking, flipping the pancake that was cooking in the pan. Several more were already on a plate and waiting, with a plate of perfectly cooked bacon and sausages.

"I thought you'd both like a hot breakfast," he said shyly; they both eagerly dug in, Charlie drinking a cup of coffee as he ate. They were both wide awake by the time they finished, and Harry sat down with two pancakes, three pieces of bacon, and two sausages. He drizzled them all with syrup and neatly ate them, faster then the Swans had thought possible with such neatness. He didn't get a single drop of syrup on his clothes or the table, either.

"How long have you been up, Harry?" Bella asked, curious; Harry took a drink of his own cup of coffee, black with only a little sugar.

"Since four-thirty," he told her. "I cleaned the dishes, the kitchen, and the living room. Took out the trash, took the clothes out of the dryer, folded them and hung up the clean towels in the bathroom." He didn't so much as twitch as he said it, even though Bella and Charlie were staring at him, mouths open, shocked. "Your clean clothes are in separate baskets to the right of your doors," Harry added absently, adding another spoonful of sugar to his coffee and stirring it in idly.

"You didn't have to do that," Charlie finally managed; Harry blinked, giving him a bizarre look.

"I like cleaning," he said simply. "And besides, I don't do well with boredness," he admitted with a sheepish look. "I tend to go looking for trouble when bored, and usually find it." He gave them both a serious look. "If you don't want me to do anything to your rooms, tell me now," he told them. "Or else you might come home and find everything organized in a way you aren't used to." Bella blinked slowly, then looked at her dad. Charlie took a gulp f his coffee and sighed.

"Nope," he finally said; Bella shook her head.

"Clean away at it," she told him; he smiled beautifully.

"Excellent," he declared. He took the empty plates and promptly washed and dried them, putting them back into the cupboards. Charlie left for work, and Bella darted upstairs to get her bag. Then the two teens were off to Forks High School.

Bella held her younger cousin's hand on a whim, and he squeezed it gently, nervously, as they pulled into the school parking lot. Parking, Bella hopped out, bag over her shoulder; Harry got out as well, his green backpack looking large and heavy on his back. He didn't even twitch at the weight, but was quickly on Bella's side of the car, head ducked and eyes locked on his shoes, hand wrapped tightly around hers. She smiled gently down at him and led him to the front office, noticing that the Cullens weren't in yet, and the parking lot was half empty. They were early, she realized with bemusement. She usually got here about ten minutes before the bell rang.

Entering the office, she waited as the secretary looked for Harry's sign-sheet and schedule, staring at him as much as she could. Harry had hid himself slightly behind his cousin, black hair blocking most of his face. Bella handed him his papers, and gently led him to his assigned locker, showing him how to open the lock. He opted to just carry everything with him, clutching the strap of his pack tightly. Bella walked him to his first class before the bell rang, and he hugged her tightly, fearfully, without any embarrassment. She hugged him back and kissed his forehead on a whim.

"You'll be perfectly fine, Harry," she assured him, smiling. "My next class is next to yours, so I'll walk you to that one as well, okay? We'll meet by the water fountain, okay?" He nodded and reluctantly slipped into the math classroom, handing the teacher, Mr. Eriks, his sign-in sheet. The teacher nodded and gave him a seat in the middle. Harry sat and pulled out his math book and calculator, setting them to one side. He pulled out a blue notebook and a sharpened pencil, fiddling with it nervously.

The class slowly filled up, last-minute students rushing in seconds before the tardy bell. Everyone glanced at him, and Harry ducked down a little in his seat, never lifting his head. Mr. Eriks introduced him without asking him to stand and talk, then turned and started scribbling down notes and problems. Harry wrote them all neatly in his notebook, peering at the board through his hair. When he was finished, he turned to the page in his book their homework was on, and efficiently had it all finished before the bell rang. Waiting for class to end, he drew on a blank page in his decided "Math" notebook, and neatly drew a lily, it's stem long and realistic. Around the edges of the paper, he drew leafy vines, curling and stretching out towards the lily. He finished as the bell rang, and stood, moving to the front of the room quickly after putting his things away. Mr. Eriks signed his sheet and he left. A couple of kids started to talk to him, but he moved too quickly.

He met Bella at the drinking fountain, as planned. He grabbed her hand, holding onto it tightly as he pressed close, shaking slightly. He didn't like this many people looking at him.

"How you holding up, kiddo?" she asked gently as she led him towards Honors English. Harry grimaced slightly, and she smiled. "Attention getting to you, huh?" Harry nodded; she let go of his hand to wrap an arm around his shoulder in a gentle hug, kissing his head. "Same way when I first got here a few months ago," she assured him. "I still get treated like a sideshow every once in a while. You get used to it after a while." She hugged him again and left him at the door. Harry sighed and slipped inside, handing Mrs. Douglass his papers. She gave him a narrow-eyed glance, taking in his jeans, gray shirt, and brown windbreaker, before stabbing one talon-like finger at the chair directly in front of her. Harry sat without complaint, pulling out his English things and a red notebook and the same pencil, which he sharpened in a hand-held sharpener. A girl with blond hair and an eager smile bounced over to the seat next to him.

"Hi!" she said, voice high and bubbly. "My name's Katie! My big brother Mike knows Bella. Are you her brother?" Katie demanded curiously, all but bouncing. Harry gave her a wary look through his hair, not lifting his head.

"I'm her cousin," he told her, voice soft and quiet; she squealed and he winced.

"You're British!" She cried loudly; he shrugged silently. "Oh my goodness! Say something British, please, please, please!" She looked at him so eagerly; Harry sighed.

"Ta, luv," he said; she clapped her hands, giggling madly. Harry prayed for class to be over already.

"So why are you living with Chief Swan, Harry?" She asked; Harry didn't bother wondering how she knew his name.

"Personal reasons," he replied simply. She pouted.

"Aw, come on! You can tell me," she tried, leaning closer. He leaned away, uncomfortable, and she huffed when he didn't say anything. "Fine, be mean," she said stiffly. "I'll find out eventually, you know." Harry ignored her and opened his notebook, drawing a picture of his cousin smiling with him right beside her, her arm thrown around his shoulders and squeezing him close. He got halfway done when the tardy bell rang and he had to stop, closing the notebook silently. Mrs. Douglass glared hawkishly around the classroom, then sniffed.

"We have a new student," she said stiffly. "Stand and introduce yourself, Mr. Potter," she ordered; Harry, terrified, stood slowly and turned, facing the class.

"My name," he said softly, "is Harry Potter." He started to sit down when the teacher glared at him.

"Lift your head!" She barked. "And don't mumble, it's rude." Harry found himself lifting his head and giving her the full impact of his bright green eyes, glaring. Then he looked at the class. Several people gasped at the sight of his bruised and swollen face, but he ignored it, lips thin in irritation.

"My name," he said stiffly, loudly. "Is Harry Potter." his eyes glared at the teacher as he turned promptly and sat down again, body stiff, ducking his head again so his hair covered his face. Mrs. Douglass scowled at him, but turned and started writing things on the board. Harry opened to the next clean page in his English Notebook and silently wrote them down, as well as the assignment, which was to write a short story regarding a favorite subject. It had to be fiction, and have at least seven hundred words. Harry, finished with that, turned back to his drawing. Finishing, he signed it To Bella, Love Harry and gently tore it out. He slipped it into his pocket after carefully folding it. He planned to put it on her pillow when he cleaned her room after school. When the bell rang, he got his paper signed, and was dragged from the room by Katie, who chattered on about how great the town was and such. Harry zoned out, digging his feet in until she stopped.

"I have to wait for Bella," he told her softly, head ducked. She shrugged and stayed by him, chattering and bouncing in place, holding his limp hand happily. Harry let her, eyes peering through his hair at his cousins Biology class, waiting. Soon, kids were piling out of the classroom. A handsome blonde boy with blue eyes walked out and Katie squealed, making Harry flinch slightly, and bounced, waving.

"Mike!" She cried at the blond. "Mike! Come meet Harry! He's my new best friend!" Mike smiled slightly and came over while Harry gave the taller blonde girl a look from the corner of his eye. I never agreed to that, he thought, then gave a mental sigh. Oh well. Have to socialize some how. He looked at his hand for a moment, not noticing his cousin exiting the room hand-in-hand with someone. I think I've lost all feeling in my fingers. Experimentally, he twitched his pinky. Nope, just numb then. Good, I need that hand for cleaning. And if I break my right hand…

Harry flinched sharply when a hand suddenly entered his line of vision, head snapping back to stare, wide-eyed, up at Mike, Katie's brother, who was smiling at him with a warning in his eyes. That if-you-hurt-my-sister-I'll-dismember-you-and-they'll-never-find-the-body type of gleam that made Harry think of mobsters, for some reason.

"Mike Newton," the blonde boy greeted. Harry warily took his hand.

"Harry Potter," he managed; Katie bounced again, grinning.

"He's Bella's cousin! From Britain!" Harry mentally sighed when Mike let go of his hand, flexing the sore limb. I don't know why he had to squeeze it so damn hard, he mentally groused, then looked around. Bella was standing a little ways away, next to a tall, handsome boy who had tawny hair and amber eyes, and a rather nice facial structure. Harry caught every line, mentally drawing it, and decided that he complimented his cousin very nicely. Slipping his hand carefully out of Katie's grip, he quickly moved to his cousin, cuddling into her side. She smiled and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, kissing his forehead.

"I see you made a friend," she teased; Harry peered up at her.

"She wouldn't take no as an answer," he muttered, reaching into his pocket. He hesitated, then handed her it. Curious, Bella let go of the boy's hand and lifted her arm off of Harry's shoulder to unfold it. When she did, she gasped slightly, eyes wide.

"Oh, wow," she whispered; Harry shifted on his feet.

"I got bored," he said uncertainly. Does she like it? I messed up on the fabric folds, I know I did. Oh, damn, I hope she likes it… Bella wrapping him in a hug had him tensing, frozen as fear flickered through him, before he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. She's not Vernon or Petunia, or Dudley, he scolded himself firmly. She's not going to hurt you. She's not like that! Flashes of the times when his relatives had been nice to him, only to hurt him ten-times worse flashed through his mind, as if taunting him. He mentally flinched. That was different! They were different! Bella seemed to realize that she'd accidentally caused a minor panic attack and quickly let her trembling cousin go. But it was too late.

"Harry?" she asked softly, kneeling down, and he looked at her with wide, glazed green eyes, flashbacks flooding him. His uncle calling him a freak and beating him; his Aunt Petunia beating him over the head with a frying pan, sneering. Ripper chasing him up the tree; Dudley pushing him into a puddle. His uncle squeezing his arm hard enough that he heard the bones break. His aunt slamming the car trunk on his fingers, breaking them viciously. His uncle whipping him. His cousin playing Harry Hunting with several of his friends. His aunt throwing frying bacon grease on his bare back when he burnt the bacon. His uncle slipping into his cupboard at night to-

"Harry!" Bella said sharply, pale with fear, clutching his face and staring into his eyes. "You need to breath, okay? Slowly, easy, breath, okay?

"I'll go and get the nurse," Mike said as Katie stood nearby, blue eyes wide and scared. Harry shuddered, tears sliding down his face as he stared into his cousin's eyes.

"Hurts," he whispered softly; she nodded, fingers rubbing his temples gently as he gasped for breath.

"Stay focused on me, sweetie," she whispered, pale and scared. "You have to focus, okay? My voice, my face, my touch, okay? Hear me, see me, feel me, okay, Harry?" The boy nodded weakly, eyes locked on hers. His breathing had started to even out when the nurse and principle came rushing down the hallway with a wheelchair. Harry's shivering and trembling continued at a smaller degree as Bella helped him into the chair and escorted him to the nurses office, holding his hand the entire time, murmuring and talking to him softly, soothingly. Edward followed silently, staying a little ways away from them both, amber eyes a few shades darker then they had been before.