A/N: Hello. My first fanfiction. Don't be nice unless you want to be. I
swear it will be long AND that I will finish it. I know this first bit is
short; I just wanted to get it up before I chickened out. Oh yes, and it
is slash. I'm sappy and romantic. So, if you're looking for angsty
darkish stuff...that's not me. What I am, is someone with severely
homophobic parents, being bisexual myself and still (to them) being in the
closet makes me want to write a happy ending story. Can't help it. Plus,
I hate it when people start things they don't finish. Even if it sucks,
there will be an ending (way to sell, eh?). If you're going to read this
whilst I write it, my name is Rebekah, I've been to a whole bunch of
different countries, so my writing style is strange and I love everyone.
This fic is rated R, quite frankly I don't think it will get that graphic,
but you never know...
For the fic itself: I'm not anti-Ron. He's just having a hard time, so when we get to that bit in the next chapter (which I will write tonight and post then) don't hate me. Everything's going to be jolly in the very end.
Disclaimer: I'm only going to say this once, so bugger off if you don't like it. They're not mine. The plot is mine, so are any new characters created (you know, like students). It's slash. Don't like it then don't read it.
Here we go:
The morning air was crisp, hailing that soon fall would be over and winter in full swing. Harry pulled the collar of his coat tighter around his freezing ears. Not much farther, he thought as he worked his way down the sidewalk of a street in muggle London.
It really wasn't much farther. A few more blocks and he'd be in the Leaky Cauldron having a beer and renting a room for the night. Who'd have thought, Harry Potter, one of the richest wizards alive, and the savior of wizards everywhere (Well, all but the dark ones, but who really cares about them, anyway?) homeless? Not that he couldn't afford a home, but renting to him? Not on your life. He was a liability. The lackeys, the weak willed gofers of the dark side had been captured and sent to Azkaban, a place that had held nary a whisper of its old terror since the dementors had left in Harry's sixth year, but the darkest of the dark wizards still remained. Some of those wizards had plans for revenge on Harry, and others were Voldemort-wannabes doing who-knows-what in the dark alleys and hidey- holes of both the wizarding and the muggle world.
"Hello Harry, what'll it be?"
Wrenched from his contemplations, Harry looked at Tom and smiled, "Just a beer Tom, and could I get a room?" It always made Harry feel warm inside when he looked at Tom. He'd lost one of his eyes during a battle, but it hadn't fazed him. He kept on like always, running his inn and taking good care of those who needed him. Unlike some other...best not go down that road, Harry, his common sense told him, only pain.
Harry made his way up to his room. Opening the door, throwing his stuff on the floor, flopping himself down on the bed, and wondering once more if he was really going to do this. He'd received the owl from... (Would he be able to call her by her first name, after all this?) probably not, Professor McGonagall, telling him what he would need and when to arrive. He was to start teaching at the beginning of second term as the current DADA teacher was pregnant. This, too, made Harry smile, the newest development of the wizarding world: providing men with a way to have children. Of course, as many modern muggle medical science advancements had been helped along by the Nazis, this spell had, shall we say, a nefarious spawn. It had started as a way for Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy to propagate. They wanted, not to create something greater than Voldemort (that would be unthinkable), but to create the greatest subject and heir were the Dark Lord to (heavens forbid) fall. Thankfully they had never finished. A very pregnant Lucius had died, and Voldemort was slain not too long after. Now the spell had been purified and perfected and many men through out the wizarding world were giving gestation a try (Surprisingly, a great deal of them were heterosexual men married to women. The "you want a baby so badly then you have it" sentiment was running rampant.). Harry was in love with the spell, knowing that, if he were to ever find that someone, they could have children of their own.
Smiling, he went to sleep. His mind was, for the first time in a long time, on the future.
For the fic itself: I'm not anti-Ron. He's just having a hard time, so when we get to that bit in the next chapter (which I will write tonight and post then) don't hate me. Everything's going to be jolly in the very end.
Disclaimer: I'm only going to say this once, so bugger off if you don't like it. They're not mine. The plot is mine, so are any new characters created (you know, like students). It's slash. Don't like it then don't read it.
Here we go:
The morning air was crisp, hailing that soon fall would be over and winter in full swing. Harry pulled the collar of his coat tighter around his freezing ears. Not much farther, he thought as he worked his way down the sidewalk of a street in muggle London.
It really wasn't much farther. A few more blocks and he'd be in the Leaky Cauldron having a beer and renting a room for the night. Who'd have thought, Harry Potter, one of the richest wizards alive, and the savior of wizards everywhere (Well, all but the dark ones, but who really cares about them, anyway?) homeless? Not that he couldn't afford a home, but renting to him? Not on your life. He was a liability. The lackeys, the weak willed gofers of the dark side had been captured and sent to Azkaban, a place that had held nary a whisper of its old terror since the dementors had left in Harry's sixth year, but the darkest of the dark wizards still remained. Some of those wizards had plans for revenge on Harry, and others were Voldemort-wannabes doing who-knows-what in the dark alleys and hidey- holes of both the wizarding and the muggle world.
"Hello Harry, what'll it be?"
Wrenched from his contemplations, Harry looked at Tom and smiled, "Just a beer Tom, and could I get a room?" It always made Harry feel warm inside when he looked at Tom. He'd lost one of his eyes during a battle, but it hadn't fazed him. He kept on like always, running his inn and taking good care of those who needed him. Unlike some other...best not go down that road, Harry, his common sense told him, only pain.
Harry made his way up to his room. Opening the door, throwing his stuff on the floor, flopping himself down on the bed, and wondering once more if he was really going to do this. He'd received the owl from... (Would he be able to call her by her first name, after all this?) probably not, Professor McGonagall, telling him what he would need and when to arrive. He was to start teaching at the beginning of second term as the current DADA teacher was pregnant. This, too, made Harry smile, the newest development of the wizarding world: providing men with a way to have children. Of course, as many modern muggle medical science advancements had been helped along by the Nazis, this spell had, shall we say, a nefarious spawn. It had started as a way for Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy to propagate. They wanted, not to create something greater than Voldemort (that would be unthinkable), but to create the greatest subject and heir were the Dark Lord to (heavens forbid) fall. Thankfully they had never finished. A very pregnant Lucius had died, and Voldemort was slain not too long after. Now the spell had been purified and perfected and many men through out the wizarding world were giving gestation a try (Surprisingly, a great deal of them were heterosexual men married to women. The "you want a baby so badly then you have it" sentiment was running rampant.). Harry was in love with the spell, knowing that, if he were to ever find that someone, they could have children of their own.
Smiling, he went to sleep. His mind was, for the first time in a long time, on the future.