Disclaimer: This never was mine and never will be. The Lindells are mine, though. If you really want them - ask.

Just awarning from theauthor - This story contains much fluff and philosophic conversations. Feel free to argue my points. I love a good debate.

Chapter 1 - Hold Me When I'm Here

Harry's good mood as he walked away from his friends quickly evaporated as the summer went on. All the letters from his friends were sympathetic-too sympathetic. They were so patronizing. He growled in frustration as he crumpled Ron's latest letter in his hand and tossed it across his room. They all seemed to think that he felt like it was his fault that Sirius died. They all went along the lines of "Oh, Harry, don't feel too bad" and "It was Sirius' choice, Harry" and "He went the way he would've wanted to, in battle."

Why couldn't they just figure out that he didn't want their sympathy, or their pity? All he wanted was some time alone so he could figure things out and get himself sorted out. By now Sirius' was more like a dull, deep, ever-present ache than the sharp, knifing agony that he had felt at first.

The problem with the ache of Sirius' loss dulling was that the horrifying prospect of his future had become even clearer. Harry was now fighting another battle within himself to try to come to terms with this new development. He didn't want to kill anyone. He didn't even know if he was capable of such an act.

With a sigh he rolled onto his back to look out the window. The humidity of the day had not lessened as the dark clouds came rolling in, but it was obvious that the rains would soon come down, hopefully bringing in relief from the heat. On impulse Harry stood up and made his way through the house and outside. Harry made his way down the sidewalk, knowing full well that when it did rain he'd be caught in the middle of it.

Harry raised an eyebrow as he watched some moving vans pulling up to a house just three houses down from number 4. He'd known that the old Miller house was up for sale, and had been bought, but he had only half registered this fact. Now he drew closer, interested. A van drove up behind the movers and a man and his wife climbed out, shortly followed by four kids.

The first was a young man a few years older than Harry, well built with a kind face. Next came a girl of about Harry's age, with two younger siblings, twins by the looks of it, one boy and one girl. The whole family was dark skinned and had dark hair. It was the twins who noticed him first, bored quickly by the house and beginning to search their surroundings. They slipped over to Harry unnoticed by the rest of their family.

"Hi!" the girl was the first to speak, grinning up at him. For the first time in what felt like ages, Harry grinned too.

"Hey," he answered bending down so that he was at their level. "Are you going to be moving in here?"

"Yep," replied the boy. He had a distinctly American accent. "My name is Devon. What's yours?"

"I'm Harry," he told them.

The girl spoke up. "I'm Robyn. My older sister Tristan and brother Kurt are over there with our parents."

Just as the rain was beginning to fall the father strode over to them. "Come on kids, lets go inside and check it out." Seeing Harry, he added, "do you want to join us? It looks like it's gonna be raining cats and dogs soon." Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding. He followed them into the house. Once in the door the older man turned to him and held out a hand. "I'm David Lindell," he introduced himself. Harry leaned over and took the proffered hand.

"Harry." He said shortly.

"Dad!" cried a obviously female voice. The teenage girl came tearing down the stairs to the front hall. Blond streaks were striking against her dark hair. The clothes she wore were punkish but appropriate, setting off the well-shaped curves of her body. Harry caught himself staring and blushed, but neither father nor daughter noticed.

"Kurt's taken over bedroom by the bathroom, and I claimed it on the way up!" she complained loudly.

"The early bird catches the worm, sissy!" proclaimed the young man who was now descending the stairs. "Too bad, so sad." He reached out and tugged lightly on a lock of black-gold hair.

Tristan aimed a couple of punches at his stomach and sent another flying towards his face. Kurt managed to block each punch and ended the quick scuffle by knocking her legs out from under her. Soon Tristan was glaring up at her victorious brother from her uncomfortable position on the floor.

"I thought that deciding who got which room was your mother's job," groaned their exasperated father.

"It was," the siblings said in unison.

"But she told us just to come straight to you," offered Kurt.

"After all, we'd just end up asking you eventually," continued Tristan, pulling herself up to her feet.

"True enough," admitted Mr. Lindell. "Alright, rock paper scissors, best out of three."

"You have got to be kidding me! Come on, Dad, rock paper scissors? That's so lame!" Tristan protested.

"You just don't want to do it that way because you know I'll win!" taunted her brother.

"Wanna bet, dog breath? Fine, I'll take it. Ready? Okay, rock-paper-scissors! Dammit!"

Harry couldn't help but smirk a little as Tristan instantly lost the first round to her brother – scissors to rock. When she lost the second time he laughed outright at the indignant look on her face.

"Oh, shut up," she scowled turning in his direction. He grinned at her as she registered that she had just ordered one of her new neighbours to shut up.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry – I was sure that it was just dad! I didn't mean to be rude. I'm so sorry," she apologized quickly.

"It's okay," Harry waved it off. "I've had worse said to me, that's for sure. I'm Harry Potter." He offered her a hand.

"Tristan Lindell."

"I'm Kurt," the older brother stepped in. He grinned at Harry as they shook hands. "So you're going to be one of our new neighbours, eh?"

"So it would seem," messy-haired young man answered dryly. "Where'd you move up from? I would guess the United States, maybe, from your accents."

"The U.S.? Hah!" Beside Kurt, Tristan threw back her head and laughed uproariously. Kurt didn't laugh outright, but a quirky smile played around his lips.

"No, not the U.S." he said, rather unnecessarily. Harry had picked up on that quickly. "We moved here from Canada."

Still a bit put out from the girl's laughter, Harry questioned, "But Canada's right above the U.S., isn't it? What's the big fuss about?"

"That's a bad question, my boy," replied Mr. Lindell. "The answer is both complicated and simple, and it could take all night to answer."

"The short answer is all about our Canadian pride," explained Tristan. "We enjoy being different from the U.S. There's a lot more to it than that, but it would take too long to explain."

"I don't think that I'm going to try to get into it," Harry answered. "I'm sure that I'll figure it out over time."

"Well that rain doesn't look like it's going to let up. I guess we'll have to finish unloading our stuff in the rain," announced Mr. Lindell from the doorway.

"Do you want some help?" Harry asked. "I could lend a hand."

"That would be great, but only if it's okay with your parents," Mr. Lindell said.

Harry shot him a rueful smile, "I don't live with my parents, I live with my aunt and uncle and cousin Dudley. To be frank, I doubt that they care where I am as long as I'm not doing anything to get them in trouble."

Tristan gave him an amused glance. "Do you often get into trouble?" Harry only grinned at her, and followed her father into the rain.

It took another hour to haul all of the Lindell's belongings inside. Fortunately, they didn't have any large or heavy furniture to bring in, mostly just boxes of personal things. When Harry asked about it, Mr. Lindell explained that they had sold their old things in Canada and were planning to buy new furniture here in England.

When the group of three – Harry, Kurt, and Mr. Lindell – had finished unloading, all were thoroughly soaked and somewhat cold. Mrs. Lindell swooped down on them in a manner reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley, loaded with towels and changes of clothes. She insisted that they dry off and change, and told Harry in no uncertain terms that he would be staying for dinner.

As they were shooed upstairs, Kurt smiled at Harry. "You've been adopted." He declared. "Mom's obviously quite taken with you. There'll be no escaping us now."

Harry laughed. "She reminds me of my friend's mum. She's always standing by with a hug and great food, and once she decides that she likes you, you're part of the family."

"Yeah, that's what my mom is like," Kurt agreed. "Use the bathroom to get changed. It's the next door down the hallway."

Harry stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He looked at the clothes that had been unceremoniously dumped into his arms. They were obviously Kurt's clothes. They would be too big for Harry, but would definitely fit better that Dudley's clothes. Harry set the folded clothes on the bathroom counter and proceeded in stripping off his sopping clothes. He hung them over the curtain rail to dry, and quickly worked at drying himself off.

Just as he was finishing, the door swung open. Harry swore silently, realizing that he had forgotten to lock the bathroom door. Well, he sighed inwardly; at least he had kept on his boxers.

Tristan froze when she caught sight of him, and a small "Oh," escaped her mouth. Harry felt his face burning as he fumbled for something to say.

"I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Tristan after an awkward moment.

"No, it's alright-" Harry started.

"I'll just – go," Tristan beat a swift and undignified retreat, shutting the door behind her. Harry stood still for a moment before chuckling in an embarrassed way and moving to lock the door behind her. He dressed hurriedly and stepped out of the bathroom, his wet clothes wrapped in the towel that Mrs. Lindell had given to him.

Harry walked into the messy kitchen to find Mrs. Lindell setting plates of food on the ground where Tristan was setting up a sort of picnic area. Tristan glanced up and caught his eyes. Both blushed and looked away. Tristan stood and approached him with a sheepish look on her face.

"Look," she murmured quietly, "I'm sorry about that. I should have knocked before just walking in…"

"No, it was my fault, too," Harry acknowledged. "If I had any brains at all, I would have thought to lock the door."

Tristan laughed softly and then gestured to the scene before them. "No table yet," she sighed, changing the subject. "So this is what we've got to make do with. We're lucky that the stove came with the house, or there wouldn't be a hot supper tonight."

"You know, if it's too much trouble, I can just go home. I mean, you just moved in, and I don't want to intrude…"

"No, no, no," Mrs. Lindell cut in. "Absolutely not. You were did a marvelous job, helping out with those boxes, and we didn't even ask. Giving you some good food is no hardship at all, dear."

"Thank you, ma'am," the raven-haired boy nodded to her politely.

"Now, none of that. I hate being called ma'am. Call me Ann, dear. It makes me feel a little less old."

"But you are old, mummy dearest!" exclaimed her eldest son, appearing with the twins in tow behind him. David Lindell followed only a couple of steps behind the group.

"She's right, Harry," he said. "I would much prefer to be called David, if you don't mind."

"Alright…David."

"Do you need to call home or anything, Harry?" asked Ann.

"Er…I don't need to call home, but I would appreciate it if someone could tell me what to do with my wet stuff."

"Give it to me," Tristan held out her hands. "I'll shove it in the dryer – another one of those things that came with the house."

She walked out of the kitchen with his things as everyone else settled around the picnic area. The twins marveled at the idea of a picnic indoors and Harry shared an amused look over their heads with Kurt.

Tristan was back in the kitchen before long, and she settled down between Robyn and Harry.

"Let's say grace." David began. Harry copied Tristan, folding his hand and bowing his head as David began to speak.

"Dear Lord, we thank you for this day and every thing you have provided for us. Thank you for giving us safe travel and comfort as we leave behind our friends and family back home. Please be with us as we start a new life in a strange place. In Your Name we pray, Amen.

"Dig in," invited David, looking up. The family went at it with vigor, and Harry joined them eagerly. He was suddenly hungry, with more of an appetite than he had had all summer.

"So, Harry, tell us about the neighborhood. What's it like around here?" queried Ann.

"Well, there's a park right down the road and the elementary school's nice enough, I suppose. You should know that we have a bit of a bully problem around here, though."

"Really? And who are these bullies?" demanded Kurt sharply.

Harry winced slightly before answering. "My cousin and his friends, mostly. They like to pick on kids with no self defense. That used to be me, but things changed over the last few years."

"Did your aunt and uncle make them stop?" demanded Devon, across from him.

"No." Harry answered shortly.

"Why not?" questioned Ann, genuinely curious. Her dark brown eyes looked on sympathetically. Harry sighed softly, chewing on a piece of chicken before continuing.

"They don't like me very much I guess," he finally shrugged.

"Of course they do," asserted Ann. "You are their family. They probably just don't know how to show it."

Harry chuckled darkly. "Here's an example of how much they don't like me: before my parents died, they arrange for me to get my education at a boarding school starting when I turned eleven. When my aunt and uncle found out. At first they tried to stop me from going altogether, and when they couldn't do that, they told everyone that I went to St Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. So now everyone around here thinks I'm a criminal!"

"Are you?" Harry turned to Tristan with a look of indignation in his emerald eyes. She chuckled. "Don't worry – I'm sure you aren't incurable."

That made Kurt snort into his potatoes, and even Ann had to suppress a smile. Harry sat back and let his face fall into his palms. When he pulled them away again, he shook his head at her. Tristan simply smirked at him.

The rest of the evening passed smoothly, the Lindells welcoming Harry with open arms, and Harry finding a sort of companionship with the family that he had rarely experienced in the muggle world. When dinner was over Harry rose to go home, thanking Ann profusely for the meal.

"No, Harry it was a pleasure having you. Do come back again soon, dear." Ann smiled gently at him. Tristan came up shaking her head.

"Your clothes are dry yet," she informed him, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "You'll have to come back tomorrow to get them."

Harry nodded. "I'll be back tomorrow, then."

"On a brighter note, it looks like the rain has stopped. See you tomorrow, Harry."

"Bye everyone, bye, brats," Harry responded, ruffling the twins' hair. They giggled as Harry walked out the door.

Striding back to number 4, Harry basked in the memory of the night. The Lindells might never know it, but their kindness had driven away the ache of loss and responsibi-lity for that night and Harry was eternally grateful for those few hours of respite. He realized with a start that he had almost laughed more in this one night than he had in the last month.

Please review. Every good author loves 'em. And I really enjoyconstructive criticism. Any suggestions or ideas on how to improve are welcome.

Smile:P

Jasperite