I swear to you, this started out as a one-shot that was supposed to be something cute, but turned into something huge. I don't really know how it happened. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or the Hogwart's world.

Chapter 1: Finding a Friend

Stiles let out a shuddering breath as the last First Year was called to the stool, the Sorting Hat placed on her head. She scampered off towards the Ravenclaws, a strangely familiar strawberry blonde sitting next to a boy switching songs on a phone, smiling invitingly at her. He too seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn't place their faces.

Doing a cursory glance around the Great Hall, actually taking in some of the faces, he spotted at least another that looked like he could be someone he knew. He sat at the Slytherin table, seeming oblivious to the boy still standing on his own.

All eyes turned to him as Professor Argent rolled the scroll of parchment back up, sliding it into a deep pocket of his somewhat shabby robes, though from age instead of cost. Stiles' chest felt tight, his breathing hard and shallow. He resisted the urge to fish for the inhaler and medication he no longer carried with him. He thought he had grown out of his panic attacks.

Headmaster Deaton smiled reassuringly at him as he stood, running his hands down his robes. He looked across the Great Hall, at all the young faces staring back at Stiles, then at the teachers to his sides. "To those who are new, welcome to Hogwarts. To those returning, welcome back. Before we begin the feast, we have one last sorting to do. Mr. Stilinski has come to us in his third year from a muggle school in Beacon Hills, California on the west coast of America. Due to his special circumstances, he was delayed in starting here, but will none the less be joining his fellow Third Year peers in their day to day classes." Immediately, whispers burst out around the hall, outraged and wondering and concerned. "But first, I'd say we need to find Mr. Stilinski a House." He motioned Stiles forward with a kind smile.

Silence, thick and wary, filled the hall, all waiting to see where he would be placed.

Stepping forward on shaky legs, sliding onto the stool, Stiles gripped his wand through his robes as the Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head, dropping to cover his eyes and ears. Giggles ran through the students. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck as he pushed the hat up onto his forehead. He could feel his wand already beginning to burn a hole through his robes.

"Very interesting. A mother from Gryffindor, a muggle father worthy of the same, but you could belong to many. Daring and brave enough to run with wolves, loyal and hardworking. Smart, very, very smart, but in an unorganized way. Resourceful and cunning in a way others won't be able to match. Which would be best, I wonder?" the Hat mused in Stiles' ear, humming as it slowly decided where to place him. "Let's see… I'll have to say… Slytherin!"

A cheer rose from the Slytherins, Stiles slipping from the stool as the Sorting Hat was plucked from his head to rush for his new House mates. He slipped into an empty space between a sickly looking girl with dull, curly blonde hair smiling shyly at him and a boy with an identical twin stationed at the Hufflepuff table.

"And with that, let the feast begin." Deaton clapped his hands, the food appearing before them. "I hope we have a wondrous year."

…..

It was nearly Christmas Vacation when Stiles felt eyes boring into the back of his head as he leaned over a Seventh Year's Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. He'd nicked it from a table in the common room when no one had claimed it or come looking for it. He'd thought he'd be safe in the library, but he'd been wrong.

Glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder towards the tuft of black hair poking out from behind a bookcase, he whispered a levitation charm. A surprised cry echoed from Stiles' victim. Bringing the boy forward, Stiles frowned, his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his forehead. "Who the hell are you?"

The boy, flipped upside down and his robes trailing the floor grinned widely. He hadn't gone for his wand, probably because Stiles had become known for hexing people who snuck up on him or made anything threatening gesture after that Fifth Year... There was a reason he hadn't made any friends since the beginning of the year, that and he was constantly looking to learn something new, especially since he'd come into his third year already ahead of half of his year.

"Dude, this is awesome! I mean, I'm getting king of lightheaded, but I've never been able to get that charm right. I'm kind of hopeless at Charms," the boy wheezed. Snaking a hand into his pocket, he pulled out an inhaler, taking a deep breath from it before returning it to his pocket.

"That's… muggle medication," Stiles said slowly, his eyebrows rising. "Oh crap, sorry!" he cried, fumbling his wand. Before he could softly lower the other boy to the floor, he crashed down. "Oh shit! I'm sorry!"

"It's fine, didn't hurt that much," the boy said, waving away Stiles' flapping, flustering hands and grinning, "My name is Scott McCall. You're Stilinski, right? What's your first name?"

"Appalling," Stiles replied, trying not to smile as Scott let out a burst of laughter, "Just call me Sitles. You're Madame McCall's son. Why do you have an inhaler? That's what muggles use to treat asthma."

Smiling and taking Stiles' outstretched hand, he told him, "Yeah, we know. I have asthma. Mom says that muggles invent helpful things just like wizards do. She says you don't always need magic for everything. Inhalers have always worked better for me than the potion for treating it. Plus, it doesn't taste as bad." He shrugged.

"Wow, I've… never heard of a witch or wizard praising muggles before," Stiles murmured, his dad immediately apparating into his mind. He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight.

"Well, my mom likes how muggles can't use magic for anything and yet still achieve so many things. She thinks the muggle world is remarkable," Scott explained.

"Tell her thank you, please," Stiles told him then frowned, "Why were you stalking me in the library?"

Scott's face lit up, cheeks going a rosy red. "No, I wasn't stalking you!" he said quickly, "I was trying to figure out how to introduce myself because I always see you alone, but you're like second in our year and I'm, well, we're not going to talk about where I am, and so I was a little intimidated, but I want to be your friend because you look lonely. I'm babbling, so I'm going to shut up now." Sealing his lips shut, he stared at Stiles with wide, imploring, puppy-dog eyes.

Stiles grinned. "You were intimidated by me? I'm like a twig with legs and arms. Why would you want to be my friend? Nobody wants to be my friend."

"That's not true! I do and so does my friend Isaac in Hufflepuff," Scott exclaimed indignantly, "We just don't know how to talk to you. We never hear you say anything, and… my mom kind of let it slip about your mom." His voice trailed off into an unintelligible whisper, his eyes on his shoes. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose a parent, if not to the extent that you have."

They were silent for a few moments, Stiles trying his damnedest not to cry, and Scott wishing he'd never opened his mouth.

"I'm really sorry," Scott started again, "My mom can be your mom too. It's just that, you look so lonely, and I don't want to see you sitting alone if we're both going to the same place anyway. I thought we could be friends and go together with the others."

His despair completely forgotten, even if for a few moments, Stiles stared at Scott. "What are you even talking about?"

Scott's eyes widened. "Dude, you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Stiles ran his fingers agitatedly along his wand which sparked feebly.

Scott tracked the sparks like a kitten tracking a lazar pointer. "You're not the only one who live in Beacon Hills."

Stiles' hand stilled on the shaft of his wand. "Who else lives there? Scott, who else lives there?" He resisted from shaking him.

"Uh, let's see… Lydia Martin-"

"You mean, goddess of my life. We were in the same class since Kindergarten. It took me awhile to figure out who the strawberry blonde was, but once I paired up with her in potions, I figured it out."

Scott laughed. "Um, Jackson-"

"Asshole," Stiles corrected.

Snorting, Scott continued, "Erica Reyes and Matt Dahler from Slytherin. Bennett Smith, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey and some kid named Greenberg from Hufflepuff. Danny Mahealaui from Ravenclaw. Then there is Malia Tate from Gryffindor… oh, and the Hales. Bennett, Matt, and Greenberg are taking their holidays someplace else apparently."

Stiles eyes grew wide as he glanced away, fingers pressed to his mouth in thought. "I knew the Hales from somewhere." He glanced at Scott. "I don't know who most of those people are, but that explains why our class shrunk so drastically when I turned eleven. I got my letter, but I never suspected the others did too, besides Lydia. She was always brilliant and nothing short of amazing. But why did so many of us come from the same little, unremarkable town?"

"Dunno, but anyway, what do you say? Friends?" Scott stuck out his hand, grinning widely.

Stiles breathed out a laugh. "Sure, friends… I'm just wondering, why are we all flying if Madame McCall and Professor Hale are coming too? Can't they just apparate us?"

"Well, my mom is almost as bad as I am at any charm that doesn't involve healing. And apparently, Professor Hale since she's still fifteen, still kinda splices herself whenever she tries to apparate, so they just stay away from it." Scott shrugged.

"Wow, I never knew apparating was so hard."

"Neither did I."

Stiles did a double-take. "Wait… why is a fifteen-year-old teaching classes?"

"She's brilliant and kind of graduated early. I don't know! Why are you asking me?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Because you've been here for two and a half years now."

"Stiles, you really think that means anything? I still get lost on my way to Herbology."

"Scott, that's your mom's class."

Scott spread his hands wide. "And my point is made."

…..

"Dude, I'm so tired, I could sleep for a week," Scott yawned as they were herded from the airport by Mr. Stilinski, who'd volunteered to pick everyone up seeing as the blizzard had made it nearly impossible to move, and Melissa, who'd travelled with them.

"If you do that, I'm not carrying you," Stiles told him jokingly. He, Scott and the rest had spent at the very least twenty-four hours stuck on flights and layovers trying to get back home. Now that they were in San Francisco, they had several hours worth of being in the car to look forward to. On the way over, the two had spent much of their time chattering together and the rest with Stiles, Isaac, Danny and Lydia trying to explain Apples to Apples and Cards Against Humanity to the half-bloods and pure-bloods.

It had been… eventful to say the least. Lots of shouting and loud banter punctuated by short periods of cat naps. Lydia, Stiles and Laura had all tied for most wins which wouldn't have happened if one Derek grumpy-cat Hale hadn't decided to join in on the last round and smoked all of them.

Melissa had secretly taken a number of pictures, the most memorable of which had been Laura pinning her brother to the floor in rage at not winning. It was the first time any of them had seen him smile or laugh.

Which brought them to the here and now with Stiles glancing at the other boy every few seconds, unable to get the sound of his laughter from his mind, and Scott pawing at him like a neglected.

"I'm sorry, guys," Sheriff Stilinski started from the front, starting the van and blasting the heater, "You're parents would have come, but we've asked them to stay in their homes, and we can't risk breaking down trying to drive you all home, so we'll be at my home until the storm clears."

Melissa turned in her seat as the entire van groaned tiredly, smiling at the group squished onto three benches. "When we get to Sheriff Stilinski's home, I'll see if I can reach your parents, just so they all know you're alright and such."

"Thank you, Madame McCall," Laura said, smiling tiredly beside the window, "I just hope the storm clears soon after we get there."

"I'm sure it will. Sheriff, you said there were blankets in the back? Stiles, could you grab those, please?"

"Sure!" he said, quickly unbuckling from his and Erica's shared seatbelt and crawling into the little trunk space the van provided. There wasn't even enough room to stack five lacrosse bags. They'd strapped their trunks to the roof of the can, and only Erica had an animal, a cat small enough to fit in a teacup slept curled in her jacket. The cat was meant to alert her if a seizure was on the horizon. Stiles still that it was actually an animagus.

"Blanket 1," he called, throwing it at the back of Isaac's head and earning a scowl from the usually reserved boy, "Pass that to Mama McCall." Without pause, he threw the next again at Isaac who snatched it from the air this time. "Blanket 2." The next he threw to Scott. "Blanket 3. And Blanket 4." Tucking the fourth under his arm, his favorite, he attempted to climb back over the seat without hurting anyone, but himself.

Leaning over the seat, he attempted to sliver back into his spot. Instead, he started to slip forward towards the floor. Flailing hand caught on a shirt, and warm hands quickly found their home on his waist. Laura giggled.

Prying his eyes slowly open, Stiles found himself face to face with Derek sassy-eyebrows Hale. He was a third crouched on the floor, a third on the seat, and another between Mr. Scowly's knees, though his eyebrows seemed thoroughly surprised.

"Hey, Stilinski," Jackson growled on the other side of Erica, "Can you be a little less gay?"

Snapping from his second-long revere of Derek, plopping back down in his seat, he spat back, "Hey, Jackson, can you be a little less of an asshole? Just for your snarky remarks, you can't share the blanket. Come closer Erica, the Hales and I will share with you." Unfolding the blanket, he threw it across the five of their knees.

…..

The Sheriff sighed as he made an attempt to flip on the lights. He brushed snow from stiles' hair before helping Melissa out of her coat. "Powers out, sorry kids. I'll get a fire started. Stiles, can you get the air mattresses and such?"

"K, Dad," Stiles replied, pulling his trunk towards the stairs, "Scott, dude, come help me."

Grinning, Scott trampled up the stairs behind Stiles. "So, this is your room?" Scott asked as he pushed into a room. In it, everything was in its proper place, not a typical thirteen-year-old's room, even one who'd been gone for three and a half months. A computer sat silently on a desk beside a slowly filling bookshelf. You could have bounced a coin off of his bed sheets. A picture of Stiles, his father, and a woman sat on the desk, the frame scratched and worn, but loved. "It's nice, I like it. Is that your mom?"

"Yeah, can you help me with these? There's like five. And then I have to get the blankets and pillows," Stiles asked, quickly diverting the conversation to something that didn't rip his heart into ever smaller pieces.

"Sure, I'll take those down." Taking the mattresses from him waiting, Scott couldn't help the question that spilled from his mouth. "Stiles, how did your mother die?"

Immediately, a picture frame right beside Scott's head shattered, a spider web spreading across the glass. A triangle of glass slipped from the frame, shattering against the floor.

"I'm so sorry," Stiles whispered, voice thick with tears as he stared at the frame. The picture was one of Stiles' mother pushing him on a swing, grinning just as wide as he usually did, thought much more genuine. His breath was coming hard, his pupils dilated with panic.

Multiple sets of footsteps thundered up the stairs. "Stiles, what was that?" the Sheriff asked as he crested the stairs, looking between the two boys, one shocked beyond words and the other dropping his head between his knees. "Stiles!" he rushed for the boy, pulling his shaking body into his arms.

"Scott, what happened?" Melissa cried, running to the boy. Her wand hand twitched, returning the glass to its original pristine state. Gently, she pushed his hair out of his wide eyes.

Scott clutched at the mattresses to his chest. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. I asked a question I shouldn't have and he had a magical outburst. I'm sorry!"

"No, Scott, it's fine. You didn't do anything wrong. Just calm down," Stiliski told the boy, ducking his head to whisper to his son.

At the top of the stairs, the Hales stood watching the commotion. At the bottom, the rest of the group looked up curiously at their backs.

With a glance over his shoulder, Derek released a sigh. Stepping passed his sisters, he offered, "Mr. Stilinski, if you'll allow me, I can try to calm him. I think the others are a little startled. I think they'll need reassuring." The Sheriff only glanced at him. "Sir, please, I've dealt with people who have attacks. I know some things that may calm him down faster."

After a moment of consideration, Stilinski nodded jerkily. "Okay, um, Melissa, can you come help me?" he asked, stepping to the side before ushering everyone else back down the stairs.

Slowly, Derek approached the boy as if he were a frightened animal. He could smell the terror, the aching pain, the longing and sorrow. He remembered it well. Crouching beside him, Derek reached out gentle hands for Stiles' arms. "Stiles, Stiles count with me. Slowly up to ten, feel everything you're feeling now. The loss, the ache, the tear that you think will never close, the fear. Feel it all, and when we get back to one, just let it go. Breath slowly, deeply, as calmly as you can. Can you do that, Stiles?"

Peaking out from between quavering fingers, he nodded the slightest bit.

"Good… one… two…"

Stiles echoed Derek, his voice small, insignificant, terrified. As they reached ten, he hid his face in his knees, releasing a feeble whimper that turned into a single sob, "Mom…"

"Now back. Ten… nine…" Stiles' shivering slowed to a stop and he lifted his head from between his knees. When they finally reached one, he was smiling shakily at the other boy.

"Thanks," he whispered, clawing his way to his feet using the cabinet door, ignoring Derek's outstretched hand. "How did you know what to do?"

Derek frowned, staring at the blankets and pillows Stiles was beginning to snatch up from the floor. Slowly, he bent and pulled several into his arms. "I lost someone important to me too, back when I was a First Year. She was… I really loved her, and then she was gone just like that."

Stiles' hands stilled on the comforters in his arms. He couldn't meet Derek's eyes. "How dod you do it? How do you manage to seem like it doesn't affect you every day? My mom, she's been gone for five years now, and I'm still having panic attacks." He laughed without humor.

"That's the thing," Derek started, hefting the comforters, "I'm thinking about it. I'm always regretting my decisions. I'm always feeling the gaping hole in my heart. I use it to push me forward, to keep living for the both of us so that maybe she won't hate me."

"But my mother was a great witch. She was Head Auror," Stiles whispered, "How can I live for the both of us when she was so extraordinary?"

"You'll just have to be just as extraordinary, make your life interesting."

Stiles nodded, still staring at the blankets. Finally, he found Derek's eyes watching him carefully, "That girl, what was her name?"

Derek blinked in surprise. "Paige," he forced out.

Grinning widely, Stiles said, "Then I'll just have to live for her too."

…..

It took two days for the storm to die down before Melissa could melt a path to the others' homes. For those two days, Stiles had woken up to the blissful warmth of being sandwiched between Derek the space heater and Scott while Melissa used his bed. For the rest of vacation, Scott and Stiles jumped between their housed like rabbits on speed. It wasn't until the day before they were meant to return to Hogwarts that the fear of returning crept in.

He'd be leaving his dad again for months with an empty house. He was going back to a House full of people who refused to talk to him because he was muggle born. He was going back to Lydia and Cora and Danny and Derek and all the others not talking to him anymore. It hurt to even think of it.

The only upside was that he'd be allowed to use magic again and of course, because Scott would be there. He could always skip class to talk to Mama McCall in the Infirmary.

'At least I have them,' Stiles thought as he clambered into the packed van the next day, taking his seat beside Derek.

Oh god, I'm finally done typing this up. My hands hurt. I hope it was worth the read. See you for the next chapter.