Chapter 3: Bonding time

"You're going to let me stay here with Harry," Deadpool said, pulling a gun from somewhere and holding it in his lap. The two Dursleys were still sitting on the couch, cringing back in fear. "I have some unfinished business with him. If you don't let me stay, or you call the cops, you'll be dead. I have no issue killing you. At all," he said the last words with a great deal of cheer as if it would make him the happiest man in the world, which it would. For all of two seconds. Then he'd be looking for something else to kill.

"You can't do this," Petunia stated, clutching her husband's fat hand.

"You'll never get away with it," Vernon said, holding his wife's hand just as hard. "We're good upstanding citizens. No one will believe you belong here," he finished with a gloat.

"I don't care what your neighbors think," Deadpool said, casually raising the gun, but pointing up the stairs.

That caused both Dursleys to blanch. Dudley was up there.

Deadpool would never kill a kid, but they didn't need to know that. "I will be staying," he said, finality in his voice. "Besides, the author says I must. Damn bitch that she is." He looked straight at a wall and stuck his tongue out.

The Dursleys were more convinced than ever that the man was straight up crazy. Who talked like that? Only a mad man. They decided to do what he wanted, perhaps he'd go with the boy to that school of his. Vernon actually got contemplative over that thought. It would serve the magicals right for dumping the freak on his normal family.

"But, how would we explain you?" Petunia wanted to know. "Like Vernon said, no one in this neighborhood would accept that you belong." She was glancing at the window, like the neighbors were already talking. Which they were, but she didn't know that.

"Tell them the truth, no one will believe you. I mean what can you say? A mass murderer is protecting a wizard child from his magic hating family?" Deadpool stated, lifting an eyebrow, not that they saw it, but it was in his tone.

The Dursleys exchanged looks, knowing what the man said was true. No matter how they spun it, no one would believe them. It was bad enough they had to constantly make excuses for the Potter brat, now they would have to explain why a man in costume was at their house. Their lives just got harder.

Deadpool didn't care. He was going to crash in the guest bedroom, and make sure that Harry got some training before he went to that school the boy had been shopping for. He didn't know how much time he had until the kid left, but he would make as much progress before then. Then he would see about how to get into the school. There was no way he could pass as a student. And with his costume he couldn't pass as a teacher.

He'd find a way, or the author would make up some bullshit that would be totally unbelievable. Fanfiction writers were strange that way. He did love how they messed up the timelines though. Hey, maybe he was in a crack fic, that would be cool. Then he wouldn't have to mind his Ps and Qs.

Then again, he could just bully his way in. They really couldn't stop him if he just showed up and hung around. He was nigh on indestructible. He had died so many times, that he was sure that even magic couldn't kill him. Though the look on their faces when they tried would be worth the trouble it would be.

"Right," he said, putting his gun away, somewhere, and putting his hands on his knees. He then stood and started out of the room. "Just remember my threat and we'll get along just fine," he said over his shoulder. He then went up the stairs. He noted the fat kid was looking out of a crack in his door. Just to fuck with the kid, he lurched forwards and said, "Boo."

Dudley squeaked and slammed the door shut. Harry, who was watching, laughed his arse off. "That was great," the boy said, waving Deadpool to his room.

"I was just fucking with him. I'd never hurt a kid," the masked man said, taking a seat on the bed, which was the only place to sit. The desk had a chair, but it didn't look like it would hold his weight. "Don't tell the fat pig or the horse that. I used that threat to keep them in line," he warned Harry.

"I won't. So, how are we going to train? It's not like there's a gym here," Harry asked, taking a seat in the desk chair.

"Is there one nearby?" Deadpool asked, already going over how he was going to get the kid up to snuff without one. There were tons of things that could be used in place of gym equipment.

"I don't know. I'm not allowed to roam the neighborhood. They've got everyone convinced I'm some kind of delinquent," the messy-haired boy said, with sadness evident. He hated that the whole place thought that of him. He'd never hurt anyone in his short life. And he didn't plan on breaking the law, ever.

"I'll look around tonight, after I get you all locked in for the night," Deadpool said, stretching out on the bed.

"Locked in?" Harry said with trepidation. He didn't want to be locked up.

"I have to keep the walrus out of your room, especially when I'm not around," the man said, pulling his mask off. As much as he didn't like people seeing his face, that mask was hot. "I don't trust him not to take all this out on you," he added, wiping the sweat off his face.

"Oh," Harry said, silently agreeing with that assessment.

"Don't worry about it, kid. I'm still one scary motherfucker," he said, sitting up and tucking his mask in one of his many pouches.

"What are you going to wear? You can't stay in costume all the time," Harry asked, concerned for the man who was helping him.

"You let me worry about that," Deadpool said, standing up and stretching. "Hungry?" he asked to change the topic, that and he was starving as well.

"Starved," Harry said, getting up to follow the man downstairs. "I could eat a whole cow," he added, just to make sure the man understood just how hungry he was. Even when they made him miss meals, he had never been this starved. It was like his bones were crying for substance.

"Well, let's get you fed then," Deadpool said, starting down the stairs with a whistle.

"Are we going to eat here?" Harry asked, not really wanting to eat around his relatives.

"No, there has to be a restaurant nearby," the masked man said, going to the front door. He put his hand on the knob then paused. He reached behind him and pulled out a set of clothes. He quickly put them on. Just a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Not that he cared what people thought, but he'd get better service if he was dressed in civies.

"You look different," Harry commented as he watched Deadpool pull on the hood, which hid his entire face.

His costumed feet stuck out like he was wearing red slippers. And his hands were in red gloves. The rest of him was covered by the clothes, but he still looked weird. Not as strange as he would have if he hadn't put the clothes on, but still…

"Yeah, not seeing the mask can do that. Besides, I can't eat with it on, and I don't want people to barf looking at my ugly mug," the man said, opening the door and going outside.

They wandered out of the residential area and were soon in a shopping center. There was a small diner off to the side, so they went there. After being seated, they looked at the menu.

"Order what you want, kid," Deadpool said, already knowing what he wanted. He had never had British fish and chips, so he wanted to see if it differed from the American kind.

"I'm really hungry though," Harry warned the man, trying to get over the novelty of being in a restaurant. He looked at all the choices and decided on the adult sized Shepherd's pie. If he was still hungry later, maybe he could have dessert. He'd never had any before, except for the measly stuff they served at school. He wondered if Hogwarts was better.

"I'm cool with that," the man said, waving over the waitress. He put in the order and added a large side of fries, or chips as they were called here, for Harry. If he was right about the kid, then he would need to eat as much as he could. He would probably change a bit overnight, and for the foreseeable future.

"Thanks," Harry said with a grin. He was going to enjoy time with this man. Hopefully, Deadpool didn't kill anyone that didn't deserve it.

They ate their dinner, had seconds, and had some blueberry pie with ice cream afterwards.

Wade had to admit the fish and chips were better here. Perhaps it was the batter? Oh well, Americans can't be great at everything.

With full bellies they decided to go back to the Dursleys, after Deadpool made a quick stop to get the lock he wanted for Harry's room.

From what he'd seen so far there wasn't a gym near the house. So, he'd have to make it up as he went along. He'd snag Vernon's credit card and make the fat lard pay for it. It would serve the man right for all the abuse he had given Harry. For all he knew, the fat man was getting paid to take care of Harry. He'd have to do some questioning to see if he was.

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"Give me your credit card, fatboy," Deadpool said after the kids were put to bed for the night. The lock on Harry's door was high enough to keep the door from opening. Instead of a keyed lock he got a slider. That way if Harry needed to get out, he could.

"I most certainly will not," Vernon blustered, standing to his full height. Like that had worked before.

"You most certainly will," the masked man said, pulling a gun and putting it directly on Vernon's forehead. "Or I will decorate the wall behind you with your lovely pink brains. I find that type of decoration delightful, but I'm sure you, and your wife, will disagree," he said, cocking the gun. "Tick, Tock, fatboy," he said, making the ticking noise of a clock.

Vernon didn't say anymore, he just opened his wallet and took out one of his credit cards, and handed it over.

"Smarter than you look," Deadpool said, putting the gun away, somewhere. "I have a question, and believe me I will know if you lie, do you get money to raise Harry?" he asked, tucking the credit card into the pocket of the jeans he still wore.

"I… that is to say… I mean… yes, dammit. I deserve to get money for having tha…" was as far as he got when he felt the metal of the gun on his forehead again.

"You did a piss poor job of it," Deadpool said as if talking about the weather. "I'll be taking that money as well," he added, tapping the nozzle of the gun on the man's forehead, as it to remind him that it was still there.

"You can't," Petunia said, wringing her hands at just how fucked up her life was at the moment. "Dudley needs that money," she added, like it would make a difference.

"No, Dudley needs your money. Harry needs Harry's money. See how that works, Harry/Harry's money. They go together, like pb&j," Deadpool said, taking the gun off the man's head and pointing to the woman.

She shrieked and moved back until she hit the wall. "Please, my baby needs to eat," she pleaded like they were suddenly made dirt poor.

"You are stupid, aren't you?" the costumed man asked, releasing his grip on the gun and stowing it away. It had served his purpose. "Your whale of a kid could stand to lose a pound or two, or stones as you call them. Though I don't' know how many pounds equal a stone. Meh, I don't care. The point is your boy is fat." he added, tilting his head to the side as if she had just become interesting. "You really don't see how you're hurting your own kid, do you?" he asked, baffled as to how they could think spoiling the child was healthy. "Surely, your doctors have told you to lose weight?" he asked Vernon.

"Like they know anything," the man grumbled, ignoring the fact that he could hardly move half the time, or breathe for that matter. He was just hefty.

Deadpool looked to the side and said, "Can you believe this shit?" Then he turned back to the two clueless people. "Just get me the money," he snarled and left the room, grumbling to himself about self-destructive people.

"Vernon, what are we to do?" he heard Petunia ask. So, he slowed down to listen.

"I'll get him when he sleeps," the fat man said in something close to a whisper, but not quite.

"How?" Petunia snapped. "Do you have a gun?" she asked in a tone that said he'd better not have one.

"Of course not, Pet. I just mean I will…. Um… choke him, yeah. He has to sleep some time," Vernon said in that not so quiet whisper. At least one of them was cautious enough to not speak loudly.

Just to fuck with them Deadpool called out, "Think again, fatboy." Then he muttered to himself that he really needed to come up with some more nicknames for the fat man. "Get it together, Fairywm, think of something better than fatboy," he grumbled, looking at the wall again. Then he went out the window of the guest room. He needed to get the lay of the land. Harry would be different soon, healthier, and smarter.

He, Deadpool, needed to figure out how to train that.