Fics: Bundle of x-over fics
A long, long time ago (February-ish)
modestroad and I were bombarding each other with odd little fic challenges. X-overs. So here's the ones I did...now that I've finally got off my ass and had them betad.
Exclusive to LJ .
Title: Crime Scene Obliviation
Fandom: Harry Potter/CSI
Author:
rospberry
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco, Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There's been a murder, and Draco knows just how to deal with it. (Harry/Draco SLASH)
Author's Notes: Betad by the fantastic
amightypenguin.
Las Vegas had been a mistake; Harry could see that now.
They should have waited until the last of the Death Eaters had been rounded up, then they wouldn't have had to deal with the consequences of an attack. As it was they were stuck, waiting to be questioned, as the Las Vegas police department swarmed over their hotel room trying to determine the cause of death of one Theodore Nott.
Draco was typically unconcerned, lounging against the door as he watched the CSI team gather evidence. His grey eyes lingered on the tight arse of a tall, dark-haired CSI; the bloke with the Texan accent, Harry realised, and glared at his boyfriend in irritation. It wasn't the looking that bothered Harry - he was well used to that, it was just Draco being Draco - it was the looking when they were both on the verge of being arrested that annoyed him.
Draco must have felt Harry's stare because he lifted his eyes and looked directly across the room, smirking; he bobbed his head suggestively in the direction of the CSI.
Harry scowled and started towards him, skirting the investigation. When he was within whispering distance of his boyfriend he hissed, "Pack it in."
"Pack what in?" Draco asked innocently. "I'm just standing here."
"Oh, grow up, Draco. At least try to look bothered."
"Why?"
Harry kept his voice as low as he could. "Because there's a dead body on the floor, and you should be upset. We stumbled on a burglar, remember?"
"How could I possibly forget? Your telephone call to the police was so appropriately impassioned. It almost had me in tears."
"For fuck's sake," Harry muttered under his breath. He looked at the busy CSIs and caught sight of the one in charge, Grissom, who was watching them closely, a notepad and pencil in his hands. Harry shifted uncomfortably under the intense stare, feeling like he was being visually dissected; he folded his arms across his chest. "They're watching us," he said.
"So what? If you keep going like this you'll get an ulcer," Draco observed idly. "You know full well that nothing's going to happen. We let them do their investigating, wait for the moment they try to blame us, and then Obliviate them. They won't remember a thing."
Grissom's eyebrows raised and Harry frowned. The man was on the other side of the room, there was no way he could have heard that, surely?
To Harry's horror the CSI started across the room towards them, exchanging a few words with the Texan as he passed. He could feel Draco practically vibrating with excitement; the blond was loving this.
"Behave," Harry said quietly.
"I always behave, Harry," Draco replied.
Harry would have laughed if he weren't so nervous. He tried to calm down as the CSI approached. Grissom was looking directly at Draco.
"Mr Malfoy, is it?"
"That's correct," Draco said. "Draco Malfoy. And this is Harry Potter."
Harry smiled tightly as Grissom shifted his focus to him. The man spoke. "I'm Gil Grissom of the crime lab," he said.
"Yes," Draco nodded. "The police mentioned who you were earlier."
Grissom smiled. "Good, then I just have a few questions, if you don't mind?"
Harry's mind was blank, and even although Grissom was staring directly at him, it was Draco who answered. "Question away," he said. "We've nothing to hide."
"Obliviate?" the CSI said abruptly, his eyes whipping back to Draco. "May I ask what that means?"
Harry's stomach flip-flopped. How the hell…? "Certainly," he heard Draco say, and he whipped his head around to stare at the blond in horror.
"Draco…" he said, but Draco ignored him as he answered.
"It means that we'll wipe your memories of what's happened here and implant a more reasonable explanation - one that doesn't implicate us."
Grissom looked faintly amused: a small twitch of his lips and the barest flicker of an incredulous eyebrow. "And how do you intend to do that?"
"Cast a spell, well, a Memory Charm."
"A spell?" Harry wondered how the man could sound so calm; he should be thinking they were completely bonkers by now. "But wouldn't that require a lot of preparation?"
"No, not really. It just requires a wand." Bloody hell, Harry thought. Why couldn't Draco just shut up?
"A wand?" The eyes sparkled with interest. "Do you have that with you?"
"I always have my wand with me," Draco answered, slightly offended.
"May I see it?"
No! Harry screamed in his head. Draco, don’t you dare. But the blond was already pulling out the wand and showing it to the fascinated CSI. And then the man was reaching out to touch it, fingertips on the wood, and Harry heard Draco voicing the words. Instantly, Grissom's eyes glazed over.
"See, Harry, piece of cake," Draco said softly. "Now, it looks like we've got a lot of work to do, so why don't you get your wand out and get on with it. Then we can go shopping."
*
They were walking through the hotel's promenade when they saw Gil Grissom again. He was deep in conversation with the Texan CSI.
"An unfortunate accident," he was saying. "Some loose wiring… and he had just come from the shower. The minute he switched on the light, he had no chance."
As Harry and Draco walked past he looked over at them, the vaguest hint of recognition flickering across his eyes. He frowned and half-nodded his head in greeting.
Harry smiled back politely and walked on, practically dragging Draco, who clearly had intended to stop.
They heard the Texan ask, "Know them?"
"No," Grissom answered hesitantly. "At least, I don't think so."
And then they were out of earshot, and Harry finally breathed out a sigh of relief.
"You worry too much," Draco said, taking Harry's hand in his and squeezing his fingers. "Come on, I really want to buy a Rolex."
Harry allowed himself to be led towards the shops, smiling at his boyfriend's enthusiasm. Maybe the holiday wouldn't be so stressful after all.
Neither noticed the figure watching them from the shadows, a wand held in a sure-fingered grip.
*
Title: Choices Made
Fandom: Prison Break/X-men
Author:
rospberry
Characters/Pairing: Jean Grey, Michael Schofield
Rating: G
Summary: What might have happened in the pilot episode if a certain mutant had been there.
Author's Notes: Betad by the brilliant
mayalaen.
Focus. Determination. Gut-wrenching fear.
When he brushed past her in the bank, the strength of his emotions slammed into Jean Grey's psyche so powerfully she flinched away from him.
Once the connection was made, fragments of his thoughts battered against her, and she struggled to erect a mental shield.
Gun. Pocket. Gun. Linc, I'm coming. Linc, I'll save you.
Jean dropped the pen, forgot the half-written check, and turned to see who was projecting so violently - who exactly it was that was planning on holding up the bank. She stared in complete bewilderment at the handsome man, in the tailored cream suit, walking toward the counter.
He was going to rob the bank?
No, there was something wrong - aside from the obvious. Jean had enough experience with monsters, both human and mutant, to know that. Without even considering the consequences of her actions, she concentrated on the man's hand, mentally blocking its movement toward his pocket as he stopped before a smiling bank clerk.
His smooth brow furrowed in consternation as he strained, not hearing the words of the concerned clerk asking if he was all right. He fought Jean's hold, his subconscious strength stronger than he probably knew - surprisingly strong, in fact, for a human - but he had no chance.
Jean felt the instant he gave up, his body and mind sagging with defeat. She saw him focus his on the clerk, answer her panicked enquiries with an apology, and then he was walking across the bank floor, past Jean and straight to the door, his intense blue stare hiding the screams of frustration Jean felt leaching through her mental blocks.
She caught up with him a street away, and with a gentle touch of suggestive thought, invited him for a coffee.
A little while later she asked him who Linc was.
Seconds after that, he told her everything.
*
Title: Tick Tock
Fandom: Harry Potter/CSI
Author:
rospberry
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco, Gil/Sara, Ron
Rating: R
Summary: Draco misunderstands. (Harry/Draco SLASH)
Author's Notes: Betad by the fantastic
amightypenguin. This is a sequel to
modestroad's Magic where Harry (and a very drunk Draco) met Sara.
It was not, however, the last time that Draco saw Sara.
Draco had realised, quite early in their relationship, that Harry assumed that everyone, after a few beers, reached a similar state of memory-dissolving inebriation as he did. And Draco, quickly realising he could use it to his advantage, had done nothing to dissuade the Gryffindor of the notion.
The ruse had managed to get Draco his first kiss, his first blow job, and their first most fantastically sordid shag in a back alley; all because of Harry's mistaken belief that Draco would remember nothing in the morning.
So, when he saw Sara leaning and whispering in Harry's ear, he knew exactly who she was and where they had met her. What he didn't know was why she was leaning in so close to his boyfriend and what the hell they were whispering about.
A stark memory flashed through his mind of a phone call a couple of years before: Harry racing off, returning later distracted and evasive. Draco knew it was Sara he had been with, and his mind had created a multitude of scenarios that forced Harry to never mention their interlude. In the end he decided it was best to forget it; it was clear that whatever had happened was over and Harry was at home, with him.
So intent was he on his thoughts, Draco barely noticed Sara walking off. He heard Ron speak, and saw the tender smile on Harry's lips, the soft spoken words about love. He couldn't bring himself to meet Harry's eyes as somewhere inside his heart shattered into a million pieces.
They sat for a while longer, Harry and Ron chatting and laughing, neither noticing Draco's silence; he was often quiet when Ron was around, lessening the chances of saying something offensive and upsetting Harry. Usually he didn't mind sitting beside them, sipping warm beer and taking the opportunity to observe the man he loved. To watch the way his body moved relentlessly, like a child with an excess of energy; words punctuated by flicks of his hands, the bench reverberating with each fidgeting shift.
But this time, he felt lost, lonely, and stared through misting eyes at the other two men.
Abruptly he stood, forgetting the bench was fixed to the table and banging the back of his calves against it. Startled by the jarring thud, Harry and Ron looked up.
"You all right there, mate?" Ron asked.
"Fine," Draco said abruptly, sliding along the bench and keeping his head bowed, letting his hair obscure his face.
"Draco?" he heard Harry say worriedly. "Is something-"
"Merlin's balls. Can a man not go to the toilet without facing an inquisition?"
There was a stunned silence, and Draco, free of the bench, spun on his heel, striding towards the door of the pub without glancing back. He neither expected, nor heard, anyone following as he entered the pub.
The interior seeming dim and claustrophobic after leaving the bright afternoon sunshine, and Draco paused to let his eyes adjust. The main bar was empty of customers: they were all outside. Only a lone barman was propped on one of the bar stools, reading a paperback, his other hand delving into a packet of crisps. He glanced up when Draco came in, and then turned his attention swiftly back to the book when Draco made no move to go to the bar.
Draco headed straight through the main bar and past the sign-posted toilet door, walking through into the even dimmer lounge beyond. A wizened-faced Muggle sat cloistered in a corner, a pint in front of him, and an equally ancient dog lying across his feet. Neither paid Draco any attention as he moved quickly towards the exit to the outside world.
Once out on the street, on the opposite side of the building to Harry and Ron, he kept walking. The streets were busy, families were out enjoying the warmth of the day, and quickly Draco lost himself in the crowds, leaving the pub far, far behind.
He was aware he was running away, not wanting to sit for one more second with the treacherous thoughts thundering through his head. He wanted to scream at Harry, to ask why, but that wasn't the Malfoy way. For his boyfriend to be so blatant about it all, in front of Weasley no less, was almost too much to bear.
Why did that woman, Sara, have to come back? She'd intrigued him: a Muggle that, for once, hadn't inspired in him the customary feelings of derision. The sharp intelligence in her eyes had taken him by surprise, and from the first moment he had noticed her, he had felt a sense of familiarity, of kinship. In retrospect, Draco realised, the copious amounts of alcohol he'd ingested may have had more than a little to do with his romanticised imaginings.
He'd noticed the interest she had in Harry and had thought it amusing at the time; he could hardly fail to notice Harry's awkwardness when he'd returned to the table and the way the conversation was stilted. He'd never seen Harry so eager to leave a pub in his life, and at home later, when they were in bed and Draco had mentioned Sara's name, Harry face had held traces of denial and doubt. And that made Draco wonder just what he had missed.
And then she had phoned Harry.
Draco's boots clipped on the pavement, his long strides and purposeful manner clearing a path before him. A couple of tourists, however, were so intent in their perusal of a stand of postcards that they didn't see Draco coming until the woman took a step back and Draco cannoned into her.
"I'm sorry…"
"My apologies…"
They spoke at once. Draco automatically reached out a hand to catch her as she stumbled, his troubled grey eyes focusing and narrowing as he registered the woman he was aiding, and he retracted his hand like a scalded cat. The blossoming smile froze on Sara's face.
"Hey, Draco," she said carefully. "You probably don't remember me, right? I'm Sara, and this is-"
"Oh, I remember you quite well. It would be hard to forget the woman my boyfriend's in love with."
Sara's curved eyebrows arched in surprise and she stared at him. "I…er…what?"
Draco registered movement from the corner of his eye, and an older man moved to Sara's side, sliding a hand protectively around her waist as he smiled brightly at Draco. "Gil Grissom," he said, thrusting out his free hand, which Draco eyed with disdain but shook politely nonetheless; it was hard to ignore ingrained social etiquette. "You must be Draco, the guy Sara's told me so much about."
"She's told you about me?" Draco said, surprised.
"You and Harry, both. You made quite an impression."
Draco looked over at Sara, standing silently at Grissom's side, and he said scathingly, "I'm sure we did. Harry especially."
A mother with a pushchair was heading along the pavement towards them, and her impatient, "Excuse me," interrupted any response.
The trio moved out of her path, Grissom voicing apologies, before he turned back to Draco. "I think there are some things we need to discuss," he said. "What do you say we find a diner and-"
"This is England. We don't have diners here, we have restaurants." Draco's lips curled derisively. "And I have nothing to discuss with either of you, so if you'll excuse me…"
He made a move to go past them when he felt a hand grip his arm. Sara's hold was surprisingly strong, not budging when he tried to pull free. "Unhand me this instant," he said.
"No." Her face was tense, lines etched across her brow. "We obviously need to talk."
"No, we do not."
"Yeah, we do. Or at least I do; you can just listen. Gris," she said, looking at Grissom with a reassuring smile, "could you give us some time?"
They exchanged a long look, Draco could almost see the exchange of words through eyes, and finally Grissom nodded. "I'll be in the book store."
"Thanks," she said and smiled when Grissom pecked her on the cheek. He extracted his arm from her waist and walked away. Draco felt sick.
"I don't want to talk to you," he repeated, but she ignored him, turning and hooking her other hand into the crook of his elbow.
"C'mon," she said. "Let's walk."
Her touch was abhorrent to him but they were on a crowded street, and unless Draco wanted to make a scene, he had no choice but to go with her. Walking rigidly, he allowed her to lead him onwards, his unhampered hand feeling the reassuring solidity of his wand in his pocket. One swish and flick and she would be nothing more than a distasteful memory.
"So, where did you get the idea Harry's in love with me?"
"Please," Draco said, "don't insult my intelligence. I'm not blind." He felt her looking at him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the street ahead; ignored the ice forming in his gut. "And I'm not going to cause you any problems either. If it's you Harry wants, know that I'm not going to stand in the way."
He heard her inhalation of breath, the faltering of her movement. "You'd give him up so easily?" She sounded shocked, a little scornful.
"Not easily, no. But I know when not to fight, when the battle has already been lost," he said coldly, the walls building with every word. "All that's important is what Harry wants, and if it's you that makes him happy, then I'll stay away."
"You have got to be the most clueless guy I have ever met," she said. "Hell, you're even worse than Gris. At least he doesn't jump to crazy conclusions."
"The truth," Draco corrected. He was growing tired of the pointless discussion. He wanted to leave. If he went back to the flat now, he would have time to pack up and go before Harry returned home. There would be the minimum of fuss, and it would be easier for both of them in the long run. He could go to his mother's in France, she would adore a visit, and then-
"Draco," Sara said sharply, digging her heels in and forcing them to stop, "you're not listening to me." Her hand fell away from his elbow and he felt relieved.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I'm sure you were saying something astonishingly astute," he said, finally looking at her face. "Please continue."
She spoke fiercely. "I said you are making a huge mistake. You don't give up on the love the two of you have without fighting tooth and nail for it. You never, ever give up, no matter what."
"Not even when your boyfriend loves someone else?"
"Godammit, Draco," she punched his arm with a fist and he recoiled. "He. Loves. You. Is that so hard to understand?"
Draco leaned forwards, sneering. "If he loves me so much, then why did he sleep with you?"
That shocked her; brown eyes wide with surprise. "Where did you get that crazy idea?" she said. "I'm with Gris."
"You weren't back then. I remember you mentioned that." He felt triumphant at the knowledge.
"No," she acceded. "But I'm with Gris because of Harry."
"Because you slept with him."
"No, you idiot, because I talked to him."
"That's a novel way of putting it," Draco said.
She looked incensed, a pink tinge to her cheeks as she lifted her chin. "I'm only gonna say this once more: I did not sleep with Harry. I met him, asked him to help me forget something that had happened, and when he refused, I went home to Gris."
Draco stared at her earnest expression, and tried to hold onto control. "And I'm meant to believe that? How stupid do you think I am?"
"Very," she snapped. "But you know what? I don't care what you believe. I'm meant to be on vacation with Gris, showing him London, not wasting my time with you." She began to turn away, but had one last parting shot. "Maybe you're doing the right thing, you know: Harry deserves to be with someone who trusts him. You don't deserve him."
Draco gaped at her as she walked away, watching her weave her way effortlessly through the people on the street until she disappeared from view. He distractedly rubbed at his arm, massaging his fingers into the spot where she punched him. If she was to be believed, she'd only talked with Harry. It was a big thing to consider. For so long Draco had convinced himself of the other possibilities, finding it far more probable that Harry would take love elsewhere when it was offered, still disbelieving Harry had chosen him over everyone else. Why would the nation's hero want to be with a Death Eater's son? Every day the thought plagued him.
A pedestrian thudded into him, jolting him from his thoughts, and suddenly he had the desire to be away from the crowds. He started to walk, carefully at first, and then quickly, scanning the side streets for one empty of people. The first one he saw, he darted down it, pulling his wand as he went. A quick look to and fro to ensure no one was watching and he Apparated away, his thoughts focused on home, the flat he and Harry shared.
In an instant he was in the centre of the living room, and he let out a sigh of relief.
"Where did you go?" Harry's voice, quiet and tense, came from the armchair to his right.
Draco stumbled over his words, unprepared. "I...I went for a walk."
"A walk? Why didn't you tell me? I could have come-"
"I wanted to be alone." Draco cut him off. He looked over to the chair, appalled at the hurt expression on Harry's face. He tried to make it better. "Weasley was annoying me."
"Stop lying to me, Draco, and tell me the truth."
What was the truth? Draco wondered. How could he explain it to Harry when he didn't know himself? "It's nothing," he said, "really. I just needed some air."
"I've know you too long, I know when you're hiding something. Please, tell me. I need to know what I've done wrong." Harry sounded lost, and Draco turned away, making a big thing of pulling off his jacket. "Is it Sara?"
Draco froze, one arm still caught in the sleeve. "What?"
"It's something to do with Sara, isn't it? I saw the way you looked after she'd left: like you'd realised something…something big." Harry sighed angrily, and for a moment Draco was fearful, but when Harry continued it was clear the anger was directed inward. "I wish I was better with words, like you. I can't…I'm not able to describe what I saw. I know I didn't imagine it, though. You saw something when Sara was there, and you decided. What did you decide?"
Draco's shoulders slumped, and he let the jacket slide off his arms to the floor. He kept his back to Harry. "I decided to leave you."
There was silence, and he waited, wanting to turn, but terrified to do so.
"Why?" It was so softly spoken, if Draco hadn't been motionless, he would have missed it. A clock ticked on the mantle-piece as he struggled with his reply.
"Because I thought you were in love with her."
The clock ticked loudly, clicking through seconds before there came another sound. A half choke, and another, and Draco pivoted on his heel to see Harry with his face pressed into his hands, his shoulders hitching with each sob. "Oh, Merlin, Harry," he said and swiftly moved to his side, dropping to his knees and touching a hand to Harry's hair. "I'm sorry."
It was heart-wrenching to see Harry so broken, and to know that he, Draco, was the cause of it. He stroked his fingers through Harry's hair, making small shushing noses in his throat, and was shocked when Harry batted his hand away.
"Leave off, you idiot," Harry said, lifting his head, "I'm not crying, I'm laughing." Draco sank back to the floor, staring incredulously at Harry, who was, indeed, laughing; soft chuckles making his shoulders hitch. "You thought I was in love with Sara? Bloody hell, that's all that's wrong with you? I thought it was something important."
Draco felt a surge of righteous anger and he snapped back, "It was important. Is important. I thought you'd slept with her."
Harry laughed out loud then, speaking through hiccupping gulps of air. "I'm…gay…you...twat. And…I'm with you." He took a calming breath. "Why would I sleep with her? Why would you even think that?"
"Because she fancied you, because you went off to meet her and you never told me why."
"You never asked," Harry said, sobering.
"Yes, I did."
"When?" He frowned, obviously thinking back. "I don't remember you…"
"Well, I didn't ask directly. But it should have been clear."
"Draco, it's me - Harry - remember? You have to remind me when it's your birthday. How would I know you were bothered about…wait," he paused, eyes narrowing, "you though back then that I'd slept with her?"
Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Not straight away, but later, after I'd thought about it."
"And you didn't think to talk to me? Even when you thought I'd been shagging a woman behind your back?"
"I thought," Draco said haughtily, "that is was best not to dwell on it. I thought it was only a one off."
"Until today?"
"Yes." Draco nodded. "Until you said you loved her."
"Until I said I what? What the…? When exactly did I say that?"
"You were talking about love…and it being magic. Once she'd gone. And I thought…"
"I was looking at you, you twat. But you must've had your head so far up your arse you didn't notice. Christ, sometimes I wonder why the hell I was cursed with you."
Draco flinched back at the angry words, knowing he'd earned them, not daring to speak back. He'd screwed up, with each passing second it was becoming clear, and truly he had no right to expect Harry's forgiveness. He pulled his knees to his chest and hooked his hands around them.
"You're such an idiot, Draco, seriously. I can't believe you thought I'd fallen in love with someone else and didn't say a word. If I thought you were fucking around on me, I'd rip your balls off, and whoever you were shagging. Fucking hell, do you not care about us at all?"
Draco pulled his knees closer and dipped his head, screwing his eyes closed against the annoying tears that threatened. "Of course I care, Harry. I love you more than anything in the world; that's why it's important that you're happy. Even it means not being with me."
There was a thump, and he felt fingers tug at his grip, pulling his hands free. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to see Harry kneeling before him, hands resting on Draco's knee caps to pull his legs apart. Draco shifted, allowing Harry to slip closer, leaning in.
"I would never, ever be happy if I wasn't with you. I love you, too, Draco, and you need to get that through your thick skull or else I'll never ask you to marry me."
Draco gaped. "What?"
"You heard me," Harry said with a shy grin. He leaned in further, and Draco could smell the not so unpleasant aroma of beer on his breath. "But that's a discussion for later, don't you think?" He dipped his head forwards and kissed Draco, a gentle touch of lips. "I have a lot of built-up anger to get rid of," he said, "and I happen to know this great little alley."
Feeling shell-shocked, Draco could barely manage a nod, allowing Harry to pull him to his feet and feed him arms back into his jacket.
As they readied to leave, Harry turned to Draco, a questioning look on his face. "What made you change your mind?"
"About what?"
"You'd decided I wasn't in love with her when you came back."
"Yes…um…well, that's a long story."
"You talked to Sara, didn't you?"
"I encountered her, yes," Draco reluctantly admitted.
Harry chuckled. "She's a hell of a woman, isn't she?"
Draco had to agree. "Yes, Harry, that she is."
Harry twined his fingers through Draco's and readied his wand. "Good, you can tell her that at our wedding."
And with a pop, they were gone, leaving nothing but an empty room and a ticking clock.
modestroad and I were bombarding each other with odd little fic challenges. X-overs. So here's the ones I did...now that I've finally got off my ass and had them betad.
Exclusive to LJ .
Title: Crime Scene Obliviation
Fandom: Harry Potter/CSI
Author:
rospberry
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco, Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There's been a murder, and Draco knows just how to deal with it. (Harry/Draco SLASH)
Author's Notes: Betad by the fantastic
amightypenguin.
Las Vegas had been a mistake; Harry could see that now.
They should have waited until the last of the Death Eaters had been rounded up, then they wouldn't have had to deal with the consequences of an attack. As it was they were stuck, waiting to be questioned, as the Las Vegas police department swarmed over their hotel room trying to determine the cause of death of one Theodore Nott.
Draco was typically unconcerned, lounging against the door as he watched the CSI team gather evidence. His grey eyes lingered on the tight arse of a tall, dark-haired CSI; the bloke with the Texan accent, Harry realised, and glared at his boyfriend in irritation. It wasn't the looking that bothered Harry - he was well used to that, it was just Draco being Draco - it was the looking when they were both on the verge of being arrested that annoyed him.
Draco must have felt Harry's stare because he lifted his eyes and looked directly across the room, smirking; he bobbed his head suggestively in the direction of the CSI.
Harry scowled and started towards him, skirting the investigation. When he was within whispering distance of his boyfriend he hissed, "Pack it in."
"Pack what in?" Draco asked innocently. "I'm just standing here."
"Oh, grow up, Draco. At least try to look bothered."
"Why?"
Harry kept his voice as low as he could. "Because there's a dead body on the floor, and you should be upset. We stumbled on a burglar, remember?"
"How could I possibly forget? Your telephone call to the police was so appropriately impassioned. It almost had me in tears."
"For fuck's sake," Harry muttered under his breath. He looked at the busy CSIs and caught sight of the one in charge, Grissom, who was watching them closely, a notepad and pencil in his hands. Harry shifted uncomfortably under the intense stare, feeling like he was being visually dissected; he folded his arms across his chest. "They're watching us," he said.
"So what? If you keep going like this you'll get an ulcer," Draco observed idly. "You know full well that nothing's going to happen. We let them do their investigating, wait for the moment they try to blame us, and then Obliviate them. They won't remember a thing."
Grissom's eyebrows raised and Harry frowned. The man was on the other side of the room, there was no way he could have heard that, surely?
To Harry's horror the CSI started across the room towards them, exchanging a few words with the Texan as he passed. He could feel Draco practically vibrating with excitement; the blond was loving this.
"Behave," Harry said quietly.
"I always behave, Harry," Draco replied.
Harry would have laughed if he weren't so nervous. He tried to calm down as the CSI approached. Grissom was looking directly at Draco.
"Mr Malfoy, is it?"
"That's correct," Draco said. "Draco Malfoy. And this is Harry Potter."
Harry smiled tightly as Grissom shifted his focus to him. The man spoke. "I'm Gil Grissom of the crime lab," he said.
"Yes," Draco nodded. "The police mentioned who you were earlier."
Grissom smiled. "Good, then I just have a few questions, if you don't mind?"
Harry's mind was blank, and even although Grissom was staring directly at him, it was Draco who answered. "Question away," he said. "We've nothing to hide."
"Obliviate?" the CSI said abruptly, his eyes whipping back to Draco. "May I ask what that means?"
Harry's stomach flip-flopped. How the hell…? "Certainly," he heard Draco say, and he whipped his head around to stare at the blond in horror.
"Draco…" he said, but Draco ignored him as he answered.
"It means that we'll wipe your memories of what's happened here and implant a more reasonable explanation - one that doesn't implicate us."
Grissom looked faintly amused: a small twitch of his lips and the barest flicker of an incredulous eyebrow. "And how do you intend to do that?"
"Cast a spell, well, a Memory Charm."
"A spell?" Harry wondered how the man could sound so calm; he should be thinking they were completely bonkers by now. "But wouldn't that require a lot of preparation?"
"No, not really. It just requires a wand." Bloody hell, Harry thought. Why couldn't Draco just shut up?
"A wand?" The eyes sparkled with interest. "Do you have that with you?"
"I always have my wand with me," Draco answered, slightly offended.
"May I see it?"
No! Harry screamed in his head. Draco, don’t you dare. But the blond was already pulling out the wand and showing it to the fascinated CSI. And then the man was reaching out to touch it, fingertips on the wood, and Harry heard Draco voicing the words. Instantly, Grissom's eyes glazed over.
"See, Harry, piece of cake," Draco said softly. "Now, it looks like we've got a lot of work to do, so why don't you get your wand out and get on with it. Then we can go shopping."
*
They were walking through the hotel's promenade when they saw Gil Grissom again. He was deep in conversation with the Texan CSI.
"An unfortunate accident," he was saying. "Some loose wiring… and he had just come from the shower. The minute he switched on the light, he had no chance."
As Harry and Draco walked past he looked over at them, the vaguest hint of recognition flickering across his eyes. He frowned and half-nodded his head in greeting.
Harry smiled back politely and walked on, practically dragging Draco, who clearly had intended to stop.
They heard the Texan ask, "Know them?"
"No," Grissom answered hesitantly. "At least, I don't think so."
And then they were out of earshot, and Harry finally breathed out a sigh of relief.
"You worry too much," Draco said, taking Harry's hand in his and squeezing his fingers. "Come on, I really want to buy a Rolex."
Harry allowed himself to be led towards the shops, smiling at his boyfriend's enthusiasm. Maybe the holiday wouldn't be so stressful after all.
Neither noticed the figure watching them from the shadows, a wand held in a sure-fingered grip.
*
Title: Choices Made
Fandom: Prison Break/X-men
Author:
rospberry
Characters/Pairing: Jean Grey, Michael Schofield
Rating: G
Summary: What might have happened in the pilot episode if a certain mutant had been there.
Author's Notes: Betad by the brilliant
mayalaen.
Focus. Determination. Gut-wrenching fear.
When he brushed past her in the bank, the strength of his emotions slammed into Jean Grey's psyche so powerfully she flinched away from him.
Once the connection was made, fragments of his thoughts battered against her, and she struggled to erect a mental shield.
Gun. Pocket. Gun. Linc, I'm coming. Linc, I'll save you.
Jean dropped the pen, forgot the half-written check, and turned to see who was projecting so violently - who exactly it was that was planning on holding up the bank. She stared in complete bewilderment at the handsome man, in the tailored cream suit, walking toward the counter.
He was going to rob the bank?
No, there was something wrong - aside from the obvious. Jean had enough experience with monsters, both human and mutant, to know that. Without even considering the consequences of her actions, she concentrated on the man's hand, mentally blocking its movement toward his pocket as he stopped before a smiling bank clerk.
His smooth brow furrowed in consternation as he strained, not hearing the words of the concerned clerk asking if he was all right. He fought Jean's hold, his subconscious strength stronger than he probably knew - surprisingly strong, in fact, for a human - but he had no chance.
Jean felt the instant he gave up, his body and mind sagging with defeat. She saw him focus his on the clerk, answer her panicked enquiries with an apology, and then he was walking across the bank floor, past Jean and straight to the door, his intense blue stare hiding the screams of frustration Jean felt leaching through her mental blocks.
She caught up with him a street away, and with a gentle touch of suggestive thought, invited him for a coffee.
A little while later she asked him who Linc was.
Seconds after that, he told her everything.
*
Title: Tick Tock
Fandom: Harry Potter/CSI
Author:
rospberry
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Draco, Gil/Sara, Ron
Rating: R
Summary: Draco misunderstands. (Harry/Draco SLASH)
Author's Notes: Betad by the fantastic
amightypenguin. This is a sequel to
modestroad's Magic where Harry (and a very drunk Draco) met Sara.
It was not, however, the last time that Draco saw Sara.
Draco had realised, quite early in their relationship, that Harry assumed that everyone, after a few beers, reached a similar state of memory-dissolving inebriation as he did. And Draco, quickly realising he could use it to his advantage, had done nothing to dissuade the Gryffindor of the notion.
The ruse had managed to get Draco his first kiss, his first blow job, and their first most fantastically sordid shag in a back alley; all because of Harry's mistaken belief that Draco would remember nothing in the morning.
So, when he saw Sara leaning and whispering in Harry's ear, he knew exactly who she was and where they had met her. What he didn't know was why she was leaning in so close to his boyfriend and what the hell they were whispering about.
A stark memory flashed through his mind of a phone call a couple of years before: Harry racing off, returning later distracted and evasive. Draco knew it was Sara he had been with, and his mind had created a multitude of scenarios that forced Harry to never mention their interlude. In the end he decided it was best to forget it; it was clear that whatever had happened was over and Harry was at home, with him.
So intent was he on his thoughts, Draco barely noticed Sara walking off. He heard Ron speak, and saw the tender smile on Harry's lips, the soft spoken words about love. He couldn't bring himself to meet Harry's eyes as somewhere inside his heart shattered into a million pieces.
They sat for a while longer, Harry and Ron chatting and laughing, neither noticing Draco's silence; he was often quiet when Ron was around, lessening the chances of saying something offensive and upsetting Harry. Usually he didn't mind sitting beside them, sipping warm beer and taking the opportunity to observe the man he loved. To watch the way his body moved relentlessly, like a child with an excess of energy; words punctuated by flicks of his hands, the bench reverberating with each fidgeting shift.
But this time, he felt lost, lonely, and stared through misting eyes at the other two men.
Abruptly he stood, forgetting the bench was fixed to the table and banging the back of his calves against it. Startled by the jarring thud, Harry and Ron looked up.
"You all right there, mate?" Ron asked.
"Fine," Draco said abruptly, sliding along the bench and keeping his head bowed, letting his hair obscure his face.
"Draco?" he heard Harry say worriedly. "Is something-"
"Merlin's balls. Can a man not go to the toilet without facing an inquisition?"
There was a stunned silence, and Draco, free of the bench, spun on his heel, striding towards the door of the pub without glancing back. He neither expected, nor heard, anyone following as he entered the pub.
The interior seeming dim and claustrophobic after leaving the bright afternoon sunshine, and Draco paused to let his eyes adjust. The main bar was empty of customers: they were all outside. Only a lone barman was propped on one of the bar stools, reading a paperback, his other hand delving into a packet of crisps. He glanced up when Draco came in, and then turned his attention swiftly back to the book when Draco made no move to go to the bar.
Draco headed straight through the main bar and past the sign-posted toilet door, walking through into the even dimmer lounge beyond. A wizened-faced Muggle sat cloistered in a corner, a pint in front of him, and an equally ancient dog lying across his feet. Neither paid Draco any attention as he moved quickly towards the exit to the outside world.
Once out on the street, on the opposite side of the building to Harry and Ron, he kept walking. The streets were busy, families were out enjoying the warmth of the day, and quickly Draco lost himself in the crowds, leaving the pub far, far behind.
He was aware he was running away, not wanting to sit for one more second with the treacherous thoughts thundering through his head. He wanted to scream at Harry, to ask why, but that wasn't the Malfoy way. For his boyfriend to be so blatant about it all, in front of Weasley no less, was almost too much to bear.
Why did that woman, Sara, have to come back? She'd intrigued him: a Muggle that, for once, hadn't inspired in him the customary feelings of derision. The sharp intelligence in her eyes had taken him by surprise, and from the first moment he had noticed her, he had felt a sense of familiarity, of kinship. In retrospect, Draco realised, the copious amounts of alcohol he'd ingested may have had more than a little to do with his romanticised imaginings.
He'd noticed the interest she had in Harry and had thought it amusing at the time; he could hardly fail to notice Harry's awkwardness when he'd returned to the table and the way the conversation was stilted. He'd never seen Harry so eager to leave a pub in his life, and at home later, when they were in bed and Draco had mentioned Sara's name, Harry face had held traces of denial and doubt. And that made Draco wonder just what he had missed.
And then she had phoned Harry.
Draco's boots clipped on the pavement, his long strides and purposeful manner clearing a path before him. A couple of tourists, however, were so intent in their perusal of a stand of postcards that they didn't see Draco coming until the woman took a step back and Draco cannoned into her.
"I'm sorry…"
"My apologies…"
They spoke at once. Draco automatically reached out a hand to catch her as she stumbled, his troubled grey eyes focusing and narrowing as he registered the woman he was aiding, and he retracted his hand like a scalded cat. The blossoming smile froze on Sara's face.
"Hey, Draco," she said carefully. "You probably don't remember me, right? I'm Sara, and this is-"
"Oh, I remember you quite well. It would be hard to forget the woman my boyfriend's in love with."
Sara's curved eyebrows arched in surprise and she stared at him. "I…er…what?"
Draco registered movement from the corner of his eye, and an older man moved to Sara's side, sliding a hand protectively around her waist as he smiled brightly at Draco. "Gil Grissom," he said, thrusting out his free hand, which Draco eyed with disdain but shook politely nonetheless; it was hard to ignore ingrained social etiquette. "You must be Draco, the guy Sara's told me so much about."
"She's told you about me?" Draco said, surprised.
"You and Harry, both. You made quite an impression."
Draco looked over at Sara, standing silently at Grissom's side, and he said scathingly, "I'm sure we did. Harry especially."
A mother with a pushchair was heading along the pavement towards them, and her impatient, "Excuse me," interrupted any response.
The trio moved out of her path, Grissom voicing apologies, before he turned back to Draco. "I think there are some things we need to discuss," he said. "What do you say we find a diner and-"
"This is England. We don't have diners here, we have restaurants." Draco's lips curled derisively. "And I have nothing to discuss with either of you, so if you'll excuse me…"
He made a move to go past them when he felt a hand grip his arm. Sara's hold was surprisingly strong, not budging when he tried to pull free. "Unhand me this instant," he said.
"No." Her face was tense, lines etched across her brow. "We obviously need to talk."
"No, we do not."
"Yeah, we do. Or at least I do; you can just listen. Gris," she said, looking at Grissom with a reassuring smile, "could you give us some time?"
They exchanged a long look, Draco could almost see the exchange of words through eyes, and finally Grissom nodded. "I'll be in the book store."
"Thanks," she said and smiled when Grissom pecked her on the cheek. He extracted his arm from her waist and walked away. Draco felt sick.
"I don't want to talk to you," he repeated, but she ignored him, turning and hooking her other hand into the crook of his elbow.
"C'mon," she said. "Let's walk."
Her touch was abhorrent to him but they were on a crowded street, and unless Draco wanted to make a scene, he had no choice but to go with her. Walking rigidly, he allowed her to lead him onwards, his unhampered hand feeling the reassuring solidity of his wand in his pocket. One swish and flick and she would be nothing more than a distasteful memory.
"So, where did you get the idea Harry's in love with me?"
"Please," Draco said, "don't insult my intelligence. I'm not blind." He felt her looking at him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the street ahead; ignored the ice forming in his gut. "And I'm not going to cause you any problems either. If it's you Harry wants, know that I'm not going to stand in the way."
He heard her inhalation of breath, the faltering of her movement. "You'd give him up so easily?" She sounded shocked, a little scornful.
"Not easily, no. But I know when not to fight, when the battle has already been lost," he said coldly, the walls building with every word. "All that's important is what Harry wants, and if it's you that makes him happy, then I'll stay away."
"You have got to be the most clueless guy I have ever met," she said. "Hell, you're even worse than Gris. At least he doesn't jump to crazy conclusions."
"The truth," Draco corrected. He was growing tired of the pointless discussion. He wanted to leave. If he went back to the flat now, he would have time to pack up and go before Harry returned home. There would be the minimum of fuss, and it would be easier for both of them in the long run. He could go to his mother's in France, she would adore a visit, and then-
"Draco," Sara said sharply, digging her heels in and forcing them to stop, "you're not listening to me." Her hand fell away from his elbow and he felt relieved.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I'm sure you were saying something astonishingly astute," he said, finally looking at her face. "Please continue."
She spoke fiercely. "I said you are making a huge mistake. You don't give up on the love the two of you have without fighting tooth and nail for it. You never, ever give up, no matter what."
"Not even when your boyfriend loves someone else?"
"Godammit, Draco," she punched his arm with a fist and he recoiled. "He. Loves. You. Is that so hard to understand?"
Draco leaned forwards, sneering. "If he loves me so much, then why did he sleep with you?"
That shocked her; brown eyes wide with surprise. "Where did you get that crazy idea?" she said. "I'm with Gris."
"You weren't back then. I remember you mentioned that." He felt triumphant at the knowledge.
"No," she acceded. "But I'm with Gris because of Harry."
"Because you slept with him."
"No, you idiot, because I talked to him."
"That's a novel way of putting it," Draco said.
She looked incensed, a pink tinge to her cheeks as she lifted her chin. "I'm only gonna say this once more: I did not sleep with Harry. I met him, asked him to help me forget something that had happened, and when he refused, I went home to Gris."
Draco stared at her earnest expression, and tried to hold onto control. "And I'm meant to believe that? How stupid do you think I am?"
"Very," she snapped. "But you know what? I don't care what you believe. I'm meant to be on vacation with Gris, showing him London, not wasting my time with you." She began to turn away, but had one last parting shot. "Maybe you're doing the right thing, you know: Harry deserves to be with someone who trusts him. You don't deserve him."
Draco gaped at her as she walked away, watching her weave her way effortlessly through the people on the street until she disappeared from view. He distractedly rubbed at his arm, massaging his fingers into the spot where she punched him. If she was to be believed, she'd only talked with Harry. It was a big thing to consider. For so long Draco had convinced himself of the other possibilities, finding it far more probable that Harry would take love elsewhere when it was offered, still disbelieving Harry had chosen him over everyone else. Why would the nation's hero want to be with a Death Eater's son? Every day the thought plagued him.
A pedestrian thudded into him, jolting him from his thoughts, and suddenly he had the desire to be away from the crowds. He started to walk, carefully at first, and then quickly, scanning the side streets for one empty of people. The first one he saw, he darted down it, pulling his wand as he went. A quick look to and fro to ensure no one was watching and he Apparated away, his thoughts focused on home, the flat he and Harry shared.
In an instant he was in the centre of the living room, and he let out a sigh of relief.
"Where did you go?" Harry's voice, quiet and tense, came from the armchair to his right.
Draco stumbled over his words, unprepared. "I...I went for a walk."
"A walk? Why didn't you tell me? I could have come-"
"I wanted to be alone." Draco cut him off. He looked over to the chair, appalled at the hurt expression on Harry's face. He tried to make it better. "Weasley was annoying me."
"Stop lying to me, Draco, and tell me the truth."
What was the truth? Draco wondered. How could he explain it to Harry when he didn't know himself? "It's nothing," he said, "really. I just needed some air."
"I've know you too long, I know when you're hiding something. Please, tell me. I need to know what I've done wrong." Harry sounded lost, and Draco turned away, making a big thing of pulling off his jacket. "Is it Sara?"
Draco froze, one arm still caught in the sleeve. "What?"
"It's something to do with Sara, isn't it? I saw the way you looked after she'd left: like you'd realised something…something big." Harry sighed angrily, and for a moment Draco was fearful, but when Harry continued it was clear the anger was directed inward. "I wish I was better with words, like you. I can't…I'm not able to describe what I saw. I know I didn't imagine it, though. You saw something when Sara was there, and you decided. What did you decide?"
Draco's shoulders slumped, and he let the jacket slide off his arms to the floor. He kept his back to Harry. "I decided to leave you."
There was silence, and he waited, wanting to turn, but terrified to do so.
"Why?" It was so softly spoken, if Draco hadn't been motionless, he would have missed it. A clock ticked on the mantle-piece as he struggled with his reply.
"Because I thought you were in love with her."
The clock ticked loudly, clicking through seconds before there came another sound. A half choke, and another, and Draco pivoted on his heel to see Harry with his face pressed into his hands, his shoulders hitching with each sob. "Oh, Merlin, Harry," he said and swiftly moved to his side, dropping to his knees and touching a hand to Harry's hair. "I'm sorry."
It was heart-wrenching to see Harry so broken, and to know that he, Draco, was the cause of it. He stroked his fingers through Harry's hair, making small shushing noses in his throat, and was shocked when Harry batted his hand away.
"Leave off, you idiot," Harry said, lifting his head, "I'm not crying, I'm laughing." Draco sank back to the floor, staring incredulously at Harry, who was, indeed, laughing; soft chuckles making his shoulders hitch. "You thought I was in love with Sara? Bloody hell, that's all that's wrong with you? I thought it was something important."
Draco felt a surge of righteous anger and he snapped back, "It was important. Is important. I thought you'd slept with her."
Harry laughed out loud then, speaking through hiccupping gulps of air. "I'm…gay…you...twat. And…I'm with you." He took a calming breath. "Why would I sleep with her? Why would you even think that?"
"Because she fancied you, because you went off to meet her and you never told me why."
"You never asked," Harry said, sobering.
"Yes, I did."
"When?" He frowned, obviously thinking back. "I don't remember you…"
"Well, I didn't ask directly. But it should have been clear."
"Draco, it's me - Harry - remember? You have to remind me when it's your birthday. How would I know you were bothered about…wait," he paused, eyes narrowing, "you though back then that I'd slept with her?"
Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Not straight away, but later, after I'd thought about it."
"And you didn't think to talk to me? Even when you thought I'd been shagging a woman behind your back?"
"I thought," Draco said haughtily, "that is was best not to dwell on it. I thought it was only a one off."
"Until today?"
"Yes." Draco nodded. "Until you said you loved her."
"Until I said I what? What the…? When exactly did I say that?"
"You were talking about love…and it being magic. Once she'd gone. And I thought…"
"I was looking at you, you twat. But you must've had your head so far up your arse you didn't notice. Christ, sometimes I wonder why the hell I was cursed with you."
Draco flinched back at the angry words, knowing he'd earned them, not daring to speak back. He'd screwed up, with each passing second it was becoming clear, and truly he had no right to expect Harry's forgiveness. He pulled his knees to his chest and hooked his hands around them.
"You're such an idiot, Draco, seriously. I can't believe you thought I'd fallen in love with someone else and didn't say a word. If I thought you were fucking around on me, I'd rip your balls off, and whoever you were shagging. Fucking hell, do you not care about us at all?"
Draco pulled his knees closer and dipped his head, screwing his eyes closed against the annoying tears that threatened. "Of course I care, Harry. I love you more than anything in the world; that's why it's important that you're happy. Even it means not being with me."
There was a thump, and he felt fingers tug at his grip, pulling his hands free. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to see Harry kneeling before him, hands resting on Draco's knee caps to pull his legs apart. Draco shifted, allowing Harry to slip closer, leaning in.
"I would never, ever be happy if I wasn't with you. I love you, too, Draco, and you need to get that through your thick skull or else I'll never ask you to marry me."
Draco gaped. "What?"
"You heard me," Harry said with a shy grin. He leaned in further, and Draco could smell the not so unpleasant aroma of beer on his breath. "But that's a discussion for later, don't you think?" He dipped his head forwards and kissed Draco, a gentle touch of lips. "I have a lot of built-up anger to get rid of," he said, "and I happen to know this great little alley."
Feeling shell-shocked, Draco could barely manage a nod, allowing Harry to pull him to his feet and feed him arms back into his jacket.
As they readied to leave, Harry turned to Draco, a questioning look on his face. "What made you change your mind?"
"About what?"
"You'd decided I wasn't in love with her when you came back."
"Yes…um…well, that's a long story."
"You talked to Sara, didn't you?"
"I encountered her, yes," Draco reluctantly admitted.
Harry chuckled. "She's a hell of a woman, isn't she?"
Draco had to agree. "Yes, Harry, that she is."
Harry twined his fingers through Draco's and readied his wand. "Good, you can tell her that at our wedding."
And with a pop, they were gone, leaving nothing but an empty room and a ticking clock.