Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Primeval; they belong to their rightful creators.

WARNING: SLASH and CHARACTER DEATH; AU for HP since NO MAGIC; it will be all muggle.

Genre: Angst, romance, tragedy.

NOTE: Unlike Primeval, Stephen didn't get involved with Helen again. Magic will NOT exist in this reality.

Summary: When Stephen sacrificed himself, he didn't just leave his friends behind.

Pairing: Harry/Stephen with mentions of pre-Harry/Becker

Harry sat at the gravesite of his lover and best friend; Stephen Hart. Clutched in his hand was a small plastic dinosaur, a gift that Stephen had jokingly presented to Harry months ago. The blue-eyed man had always teased Harry about his constant awe of the magnificent beasts, but would later say that the look on his face never failed to make Stephen smile, and his heart to warm. Harry would blush and try to change the subject, and Stephen would laugh and sneak in a quick kiss, leaving the raven-haired male even more flustered.

"Sometimes I wish I could see the creatures the way you do," Stephen would say.

"Like Connor does?" Harry would banter back, and laugh as Stephen would wrinkle his nose.

"Definitely not like Connor," the reply was always said with a tone of mock disgust that made Harry grin at him and waggle his eyebrows.

"Then like what?"

"Like they were the most important things in the world," Stephen had almost pouted when he spoke the sentence, and it would have made Harry laugh again before he reached up and kissed the sulky man.

"More like the second most important thing," Harry would have teased, and Stephen's expression would have softened, and later he would have turned serious and show how important Harry was to him lovingly as they arrived back to their shared flat…

… But Stephen couldn't do that anymore. A dead man couldn't speak, nor love, or appreciate Harry's way of thinking or seeing of the world. He was an empty shell, just like what Harry felt now that his heart had been taken away from him. And it was all because of one screwed up sociopathic woman with a God-complex.

Helen Cutter always managed to hurt those who turned on or wronged her in any way. For Nick, her husband, it was sleeping with her student, Stephen, and then disappearing for eight years before coming back to mess with him again. For Stephen, it was not only the momentary agony of the belief that Harry and the rest of the ARC team had been killed, but it was also ultimately his life. It was a choice between Nicks' or his, when Helen had broken the locking mechanism on a door that would keep out deadly creatures from the past and future. The only way to lock it was from the inside, with them; and he chose to die.

"You selfish bastard," Harry snapped at the gravestone before he shakily shoved the small toy into his pocket. The man had made Harry promise to try not to get himself killed in a stupid, self-sacrificing act of heroism, only to do it himself. "How could you leave me?" Harry choked out.

Tears had escaped dulled green eyes, and Harry's throat was sore from all the screaming that came out during the nightmares that now plagued him every time he closed his eyes. Harry couldn't sleep anymore without seeing the bloodied form of Stephen, arm outstretched towards Harry who could only stand there, feet seemingly glued to the floor, and unable to do more than scream out Stephen's name as predators from the past and the future descended on his lover, and ripped him apart.

Harry had spent a good amount of time blaming Cutter for allowing Stephen to die. Though he eventually realised that there was nothing the Scottish man could have done -not that it made it any easier for Harry to accept- and eventually returned to treating Cutter more like he used to do.

Then Helen happened again. Only this time, it was Cutter who had been murdered. Harry clutched at his hair, tugging on the messy strands, as he stared hard at the gravestone in front of him.

"If you were here," Harry accused softly, "then I wouldn't have lost the both of you. If Cutter had died in your place, you wouldn't have let Helen shoot you like Cutter did. He still believed that there was some part of her that was good."

Releasing his hair, Harry swiped at some stray tears angrily.

"It's your fault!" Harry suddenly snarled, "if you hadn't of died, if you hadn't of trusted Helen even a tiny bit, then we'd all be here still. And I wouldn't be all alone!"

He hated how Abby and Sarah and Lester could still continue to work the job and pretend that everything was alright. He hated how Connor had closed in on himself, his easy-going nature and the last shreds of naïvety stolen away from him the moment Cutter died. And he hated how Becker thought that he could comfort Harry, in his awkward way that made Harry feel like it wasn't the end of the world. And made his stomach flutter and his skin to warm when the other man would pat his shoulder, or just stand beside him silently, refusing to leave him alone to drown in his grief.

The guilt Harry felt after those little moments when he allowed himself to smile or open up to the soldier hurt so much. It was like the highest betrayal to make against Stephen. So Harry had tried to keep his distance; and so far it was working, despite Abby's meddling.

Stephen wouldn't have liked it if he were with them. The blue-eyed man would've become jealous, and would have acted like a right prat to the soldier. But Becker wouldn't even be at the ARC if Stephen hadn't of gone. However Stephen had been a self-sacrificing idiot in the end, saving everyone from the different creatures that had resided in that room.

Just then Harry's mobile started to ring, breaking Harry out of his melancholy state. He gave a small huff of irritation and dug the small silver device out of his coat pocket and accepted the call.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly.

"Another anomaly," Jenny's voice answered, "by the train station. Where are you now so that I can get someone to pick you up?"

"I can make my own way there," Harry tried to keep the sharpness out of his tone.

"If you're sure…" And Harry rolled his eyes, biting his tongue to keep in a sarcastic retort. Going to visit Stephen always left Harry feeling raw. "I'll text over the co-ordinates."

"Thanks," Harry ended the conversation and pressed the phone to his forehead. He took a moment to gather himself before he forced himself to his feet, brushing off the grass that clung to his trouser legs. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes and cheeks in an attempt to wipe away the tear stains and the bloodshot look Harry knew he had.

"I'll be back again soon, Stephen," Harry said to the headstone of his deceased lover, "Seems that the world keeps on spinning despite you not being in it." Harry took a step back, "it seems so wrong that it keeps doing so."

Straightening up, Harry forced himself to turn his back and head back to his car. The pain in his chest didn't hurt as much that day, when he left the cemetery and Stephen, the constant ache was still there but today his heart hurt a little less. Maybe it was because he was so tired, and so drained. But yet Harry felt both relief and more guilt over it. His fingers felt for the familiar shape of the small dinosaur toy in his pocket, and clutched it tightly in his palm so that the sharper edges dug into his skin.

Harry bit his lip. He'll come back as soon as they've finished with the new anomaly, and he would tell Stephen about what creature they had dealt with, and how Connor would have most likely needed rescuing again either because of his bad luck or him being distracted by Abby. Both were a high possibility. He nodded his head and pulled out his keys. He couldn't stay away from Stephen for too long. The man had always been so impatient.

So, yeah, didn't know how exactly to end it, but there we go. I also apologize for any spelling mistakes.