I own neither Fullmetal Alchemist, nor Harry Potter. I own the idea and the audacity, though.
Beware: crossover, maybe a few spoilers, violence, slash, tragedy (read character death).
This story is dedicated to all FMA and HP fans, but most importantly to Kara (Neo Diji) as an early birthday gift.
Enjoy.
Brynn

Prologue

Roy Mustang closed the door carefully, extremely quiet to avoid being noticed. It was well past midnght and the room he had sneaked in didn't by any means belong to him. It was much too small, much too tidy and much too empty.

In fact, there was hardly anything but the most necessary to survive – a desk, bent slightly under the weight of a stack of tomes, a case – virtually empty, though, as he could see through the half-open door – and a bed close to the window. The light-bulb over his head lacked the shade. He, of course, didn't intend to turn on the light anyway, but the realisation made the place seem even less personal, less inhabited.

As it was, the only light in the poky bedroom was provided by the thin slice of the Moon shining through the curtainless pane of glass. It fell on a face of a child. Subconsciously, Roy's eyes welled with tears. How many times had he told himself that he wasn't a child? How many times had he been told by others? Still, how could he believe it, having seen the pain, the fear, the weakness… all that made people human, all that made the Fullmetal Alchemist different from the rest of the dogs of Military. The way he was surprised by his emotions. The way he couldn't handle them…

Though Roy wasn't exactly the one to talk. Suppressing the guilt he sat on the edge of the bed, wincing when it was much harder than he anticipated. Had the child no self-preservation?

'No, he has not. At least until he's face to face with death… Like he happens to be a lot lately.'

Who were they trying to fool? They were all face to face with death daily, only Fullmetal got it worse than most of them, because he usually took care of the most dangerous stuff. This time they let him go from the hospital after only a week, and actually, he had managed to get out on his own. With crutches, of course, but on his own. Before he even got into the car he shouted at his brother to "Get Winry to come on Friday". Somehow even incapitated the child demanded (and received) respect.

Perhaps that was what made Roy interested.

The mechanic had, naturally, come as requested and patched up Fullmetal's automail, without leaving a wrench-shaped bruise anywhere on his body. She had intended to leave one – Roy knew because she voiced that intention in front of him – but seeing the pitiful state the child was in (because he had attempted to save ten or twenty more people before that building crashed on him) who could add more pain? Fullmetal didn't deserve more pain, though he knew how to handle it.

Perhaps that was why he intrigued Roy so much.

It was Tuesday now. Not yet five days since Fullmetal was fully mobile once again. And today he was assigned to a new mission. Roy's hand absentmindedly traced the thin blankets. The child under them was shivering, with cold maybe (it was rather chilly in the bare room, due to the lack of isolation) but, judging from the scowl on his much too old face, more likely because of the nightmare. Roy wasn't new to Fullmetal's nightmares, but he doubted there were more than four people (counting the child himself) who knew about them. That was why only Roy recognised the shallow but visible wrinkles on the skin that was supposed to be smooth for years to come yet. Alphonse must have known, too, but he had voiced the opinion that his brother is frowning too much when people call him short, or a girl, or a child…

'Sometimes I wonder… can the brother truly sleep? Does he not notice the nightmares?' A car outside gave a rather nasty back-shot and Fullmetal jerked. A soft cry escaped him.

"Not him… please… don't…" When the voice grew gradually quieter Roy leant closer to hear the end of the plea. "die…" Predictable.

On the other hand, it reminded Roy why did he cross the rules and his own morale (yes, he did have one, although after the life he had had it ended rather curtailed) and broke into the freezing place the Unknowing called 'Fullmetal's apartment'. He had a self-assessed mission.

The roaming hand reached flesh and a pair of bare fingers drew a line along the sleeping child's jaw. It was a risk, but he didn't seem to be able to stop himself from the touching the miraculous being. The scowl deepened.

"What ails you?" Roy whispered, staring at the boy. The soft lips parted slightly as though in surprise and he mumbled something unintelligible.

'Well, this is the end, Fullmetal. Sorry I didn't get to say goodbye.' The Colonel arose and cautiously paced to the opposite side of Edward's bed, keeping his eyes on the floor for good measure, despite knowing there was nothing in the room he might have been stepping on.

'The recent months were Hell, Fullmetal, but it's my personal belief that this state is drawing to a rapid close. I don't want you to be there. I'm taking the rest of my subordinates and I know you have fought hard to be allowed to go with us, rightfully claiming you have done more than perhaps either of us… but I don't want you to die. I can't lead a child to death in battle." He carefully pulled the blanket away. Despite the cold, Fullmetal was sleeping in only his boxers, which made Roy's job all that easier.

'I'm sorry, Chibi.' He really was. One by one, he loosened the screws. It wasn't a great enough difference to make the boy notice, but as soon as he made a major movement, he was going to virtually fall apart. Needless to say, it was going to hurt.

'It's to keep you alive. Alphonse still needs you, you know. You've got to get his body back. You couldn't do that if you were dead.' He proceeded to the leg, which was a lot more complicated procedure, as Fullmetal seemed to be tangled in the blankets and they were stuck in the joints. Not once was he strongly compelled to cinder the cloth and simplify his work, but somehow he didn't believe that the boy wouldn't notice the smell of burn. Or feel the heat.

He managed it, after a while. His fingers were quivering, but there was no other way to go about it. The child wouldn't listen to reasoning, would ignore orders and the loss of his arm wouldn't stop him from following. It had to be done thoroughly. Roy hated himself for inflicting more pain to the boy.

'Dekita, Fullmetal… Farewell, Edward.' The door to the bedroom Roy privately called 'the cell' clicked shut and he strode quickly – trying to appear official – out of the place. He hated it there. He hated the world. The state. Himself and what he did and his life…

But, it his own very special way, he loved the child.