We'd Be Strangers
Summary (full): Imagine a world in which nothing is not not resolute. Where time can be turned, abused, and used. Where kings and queens hide in secret to our world and their world. A world possessed by a family with the ability to eliminate our decisions, our existence, and our Earth. Turmoil in our world froths, a chosen sovereign coddled in false truths but protected by unseen guardians. A decision to avert a collection of deaths can ultimately lead to the unraveling of both worlds or the gathering of affection connecting each world to another.
Parings; TRM/OC, RB/OC, JP/LE, LM/NB, SB/?, SS/?, RL/OC? - Warnings; this has slash (M/M), a pinch of uncesored language, and a dash of smut.
Author's Note: Hello friends. *wink* I will only repeat myself once, or maybe twice, I do NOT under ANY circumstances own anything that you recognize (well duh this is a fanfic); such as Harry Potter (again on a Harry Potter fanfic), or any refrences to others . . . coming later.
A Harry Potter Fan Fiction
Prologue
Potter Manor, Ipswich, England; 2027, 11:07 A.M.
"Give it back!" the young girl screamed to the older boy clutching her doll. The boy, James, laughed and held the doll high in the air so that the jumping girl could not reach it. His cheeks flushed with mirth, hazel eyes glittering, and glasses sliding down his nose, he was the epitome of mischief. The girl, with fiery hair twisting around her face and shoulders, and unlike her brother a blushing face with anger and intolerance, arms braced and nose scrunched on a freckled face; getting ready to scream again. Thick-lashed sage eyes peered at the two on a round youthful face.
"Daddy," he whispered. "Jamie and Lily are argu'ing." Albus tugged at the sleeve of his father's shirt and pointed to the scene as soon as he held the man's attention. His almond shaped eyes crinkled and narrowed.
"James, give Lily her doll back now!" the man stated firmly, leaving no room to argue with. "Honestly! I turn around for one moment and those two have already gotten into mischief." He grumbled under his breathe, shifting his weight to the opposite foot while holding Albus. Lily smirked triumphantly and held her palm forward, the other placed on her hip. James sighed and muttered "joy-killer" and let the doll drop to his sister's outstretched hand.
"Hmm, now let's go upstairs to see your grandfather kids." the man said scooping Albus into a more comfortable position. James and Lily gazed at the great marble stairway and looked back at each other. No word needed to be spoken as they turned and scrambled up the stairs. Albus glanced at his father with furrowed brows.
"Where is Daideó?" Harry looked down at his son. He nudged his head toward the grand staircase where his other children were racing to the top. "Upstairs." Albus nodded his small head, unruly hair bouncing. Harry walked toward the stairs and started to climb them.
He watched out the 4th story window with a soft smile pulling at wrinkled skin. His hazel eyes turned to the faded maroon of the walls and rich tapestries. Squeals and jovial giggles rang in the halls. Shadows traveled across the walls where the mahogany door was cracked open.
"Daideó!" shouted his grandchildren minus one. Lily sprinted to her grandfather and climbed on his lap. She kissed his cheeks and looped her thin arms around his shoulders. James followed his sisters lead and leaned forward to kiss Daideó's lined cheeks. "Father." "Daideó!" spoke Harry and Albus in unison. Albus leaped out of his father's arms and into his grandfather's.
"Hello, my favorite grandchildren." Spoke the older man with mischievous eyes.
"Were you're only grandchildren, Daideó." James admonished. "And so you are." He raised his eyebrows. The he turned to Harry. "How are you my son?"
Harry chuckled and replied to his father, "Could be better, but that isn't exactly news with this handful." He motioned to his own children who were crowded around their Daideó. "Where's Ginny?" Daideó asked.
"Mama's over at a friend's house." Lily stated matter o' factly, her eyes wide. "Is she now," Daideó grinned at Harry who ruffled his own inky hair sheepishly. "Let us have some afternoon tea."
Potter Manor, Ipswich, England; 2027, 3:45 P.M.
"Who's that?" Albus pointed a dusty finger at an old, yellowish newspaper, a picture the object of the young one's question. Daideó's and the others glanced at the boy.
"This old thing?" Harry picked up the paper and blew on it so that the dust that had settled on it showered the air. He whistled in awe and read "1982." "Wow dad this is even older than me!" he exclaimed. Daideó's face lost its smile and his eyebrows furrowed with a frown. James cocked his head at his grandfather, but offered nothing.
"Now Albus what was it that you asked?" Harry coughed out in between gulps of musty air. "That. Who's that?" the sage-eyed boy pressed his small pointer finger to the picture. Now it was Harry's turn to frown. He glanced questioningly at the eldest in the room. "Give it here," the man rasped, holding out veined hands. His grandchildren grouped around him as if he were holding a cow leg and they starving wolves. Once he held the newspaper his entire face glowed with recognition, approval, and was it melancholy. The children pressed their faces around the paper, grasping the chair the elder was settled on for support.
"Who is he?" Albus chirped again. Crow's feet pulled at the old man's eyes as he trained them on the highlighted picture, a young man's portrait. His hair dark and skin pale. Clothed in a fine embroidered vest, waistcoat, and a pristine cravat. His photograph spoke of aristocracy and ignorance, but his eyes held a hardship and coldness of one who had not a life of royalty but of solitude and a great sadness.
"Our New Leader." Harry read from over his shoulder. "Who . . . is that?" he questioned in confusion.
Daideó huffed "Do they not teach you your history?" then he shook his almost white hair, strands blew in his line-of-view. They glowed as if they were pearls in the dimming sunlight. He remembered the days when his locks were darker than Harry's and his skin as youthful as Albus's. The memories when the man in the picture held the same healthy, youthful appearance as he. Their laughter, his wife's throaty laughter, and the other's laughter. He remembered her and him sittingtogether against the amber sky, telling them of who they were and what had become of them and their lives. The pensive display clear on her face when she told them of their troubles and bloodshed that would soon be their own.
Harry, James, Lily, and Albus waited patiently for him to speak. Daideó hesitated; he had never spoken this tale to anyone – not even amongst his fellow live friends. "His name is Tom." His pearl eyelashes brushed his skin.
"Is?" asked James. "Don't you mean was?" Lily placed her two cents in. "No." he shook his weighted head.
"He is still alive?" Albus mumbled not really knowing the reality of his words. The old man expressed a tender but amused smile.
"Yes."
"The headline acknowledged he was our leader. Was it true?" Harry queried, blowing his messy tresses out of his glasses.
"No. . ." Daideó stopped. His withered palms quivered. "He is our King."
"We don't have a king. I would've knew if we did! Heck, Daddy would've knew to!" challenged James. Lily nodded her orangey hair as well but then sternly glowered at James for his use of language. Albus gave a toothy smile in agreement. "James . . ." Harry warned. James just shrugged his shoulders.
Daideó waved his hand in a flourished manner. "I should not be surprised at how much the Ministry keeps from you. But they should at the very least recognize his power; after all he does allow them to continue with the pretense that they are still in charge."
"Are you grateful toward this so-called King?" contested Harry.
"I am. When he was but a mere child he faced treacheries that no other mortal could even compare to. He assisted our world to become greater than it was, greater than it is." The enduring man presented.
"You act as though you know him, father."
"I did. I still do. We were close friends when I was in my 7th year at Hogwarts." Daideó's eyelids fluttered close when he revealed the absolute truth.
"You went to school with a King!" squealed Lily. "What was 'e like? Was 'e nice? How'd you become fr'nds?" Albus spewed. James eagerly leaned forward, thinking himself too old to beg. "I guess I know what we're doing for the rest of our visit," murmured Harry. He too was interested in hearing this story.
"Settle down my children and I will tell you a story that starts long before your generation. A memoir that surpasses even Merlin's knowledge. Beware though, of the truth that you seek. For you may not like what you hear."