Disclaimer: I unfortunately don't own Harry Potter (or I would be very rich and would have done different things with the characters) and neither do I own NCIS.

Author's note: I've started this quite some time ago, but I've lost interest in NCIS. It was supposed to be a chaptered story/epic length one-shot, but… Well, I've rewritten it a bit and decided to just post it. It's not the best nor the worst I've ever written.

Rating: T

Warning: none

There were a lot of things Tony disliked. His father was a prime subject. Rats, needles and mysterious envelops, with lipstick kiss marks on them, were other examples. But on the top of his list was, without a doubt, bringing Gibbs bad news. Especially when said man was drilling holes into his head with an expectant stare. Neither Ziva nor Probie were forthcoming with any information – to get the pressure off him – either. There was no shame in admitting his hands were damp and his gaze was flickering around, never focusing on his superior. Finally he cracked.

"Uhm… Boss, we…"

A deep breath. Some more stalling. Praying for a miracle. But nope, Gibbs was still staring at him; even harder than before, if that was at all possible. "We've got nothing, Boss. It's like he doesn't even exist." Now it was out, now Gibbs would chew them out and-

"Not surprising."

Wait, that wasn't Gibbs' voice. Frowning, Tony turned his head to the left. Right there, about two feet in front of his desk, stood a man – who he hadn't noticed arriving. Automatically his brain filed away what he saw: Height was about 5'8, black hair, green eyes, nice but neither extravagant nor stuffy clothing – most likely no FBI agent -, no uniform, British accent. Tony had no idea what to make of him.

"Harry? What're you doing here?" Curious, curious. Obviously Gibbs knew the guy pretty well to call him by his first name and, if he had to guess, by a shortened form of it no less. The bossinator did frown, though… but that could be attributed to the question. Tony was really interested in what this was all about.

"Of course I'm here to snatch away your case, Jeth." Tony felt his eyebrows rise on their own accord. Jeth? What the hell was going on here? Who was that guy? Did he have some kind of death wish? To so nonchalantly announce something like that to Leroy Jethro Gibbs, of all people, and with such a cheeky grin, had to be a clear sign of insanity! Ziva had come to the same conclusion, if the slight widening of her eyes was any indication.

If he were to turn back to Gibbs, he would find a stormy expression on his face, Tony was sure of it. His boss never gave up a case without a fight - And sometimes not even then. Happy that he was no longer in the line of fire and that someone else had to suffer for a change, he indeed turned back and promptly frowned. Why did Gibbs look contemplative and slightly curious and not angry at all? And what was with the nod of acceptance? That's not how things worked around here!

"I see. So, which one falls into your jurisdiction? The victim or the committer?" Yep, there was definitely curiosity in Gibbs' voice. The guy – Harry – didn't answer, though. He stepped closer to Jeth - he just couldn't get over it – and shoved a paper cup into his hands. "Black, like the ham you burned last week, when I distracted you, and extra large. You look, like you need it." If the guy grinned any wider, he would turn into the Cheshire Cat. And burned ham? Seriously? If Tony hadn't seen all those women and known about the several divorces Gibbs had been through, he would bet on those two having an affair, regardless of their age difference.

His boss snorted in amusement, but didn't comment, even when Harry – was that a shortening of Harrison? Whose name was Harrison nowadays? – plopped down on Gibbs' desk chair. Tony's world view was slowly crumbling around him and he was too busy being confused to check if McGhost and Ziva felt the same way.

"Both, kind of, the attacker more so," the little invader said and Tony needed a moment to link the statement back to Gibbs' question. His boss, of course, got it at once and raised one eyebrow in silent inquiry. "No, I can't tell you more. Not here at least. It's classified." Tony was pretty sure that meant it was okay to tell the boss – off records -, but not them. Huh. "My men are already collecting the body downstairs." His men? Wow. Either the guy was a lot older than he looked like, or he hadn't climbed the job ladder but jumped it up. What organization was Harry part of anyway? The British accent threw him off a lot.

He knew he would regret this later, he knew it. The urge to know was too big, however. He had to do this. "A mysterious murder without a cause of death or suspects?" Tony rubbed his chin, still thinking this was a bad, bad idea and ignoring the alarm bells. "You have to be either part of the FBI or The Men in Black. Either way, you lack the suit… and the black, for that matter." Gibbs looked caught between annoyance and amusement, Probie groaned and Ziva just blinked at him in confusion, probably not getting the reference. Harry, though, looked at him with a blank face.

"Of course not!" Suddenly the blank mask morphed into a contemplative frown. "Just between us?" Harry asked just loud enough for them to hear, which, of course, meant everyone else in the room was all ears as well. "I shouldn't tell you this, but… you are Jetho's team." Tony leant forward in anticipation. "I'm actually James Bond – no, don't laugh, it's true. James Bond isn't a person but a codename. Every time a 'James Bond' retires or dies, the name will be passed on to the next worthy candidate and that's currently me. Somehow the whole thing leaked out years ago, but nobody believes it, thinks it's just an action film, therefore we never changed the name. Hiding in plain sight and all that."

Tony's only slightly doubtful expression was testament to Harry's acting skills. Or perhaps to Tony's personality.

Gibbs' uttered another amused snort, but quickly delivered a slap to the back of Harry's head - Except, it wasn't a slap at all –Tony knew how those usually felt and looked like, he had experienced them often enough, after all. This one was barely a pat.

"Alright, alright, I won't encourage him further. To quell your curiosity, Agent DiNozzo, I'm Senior Agent Harry James Potter of the DMLE and no, I won't tell you what it stands for."

Tony was probably experiencing a heart attack at the moment. Well, that's what it felt like. The DMLE! Nobody knew what it stood for or even what their purpose was, except for those people who absolutely had to know or were part of it. They were more secretive than most other agencies combined! This guy was really part of it and Gibbs knew? To be honest, the 'James Bond' story sounded more believable…

Tony was about to work on a head slap of his own, when an unknown beeping sound made him pause. "Ah, that would be me. Places to go, people to drive insane. It was nice to finally meet Jeth's minions, though." Smirking and easily ignoring the protests, Harry got up and rounded the desk. Gibbs only rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards the elevator. In silent agreement they fell into step and stopped just in front of the metallic sliding door.

The elevator opened after several moments and Tony saw his boss leaning forward to kiss this Harry-person's cheek. He stared. There were only two kinds of people he had seen Gibbs do it to: Certain red-headed women and Abby. Now the One-Thousand-Dollar-Question: Which group did Harry belong to?

It took about two days for Harry and his team to solve the case. By the end of it he was tired, a bit cranky and just about dying to see a certain, special someone. Fortunately said someone wasn't working on a case of his own at the moment.

Both of them were sitting on Jethro's couch, eating dinner and watching American football. The older man had tried to explain the rules to him, but Harry was still lost most of the time. Well, his one true love would always be Quidditch, so he really didn't care either way.

"Was DiNozzo alright after I left? He looked like he was about to have a heart attack or perhaps a mental breakdown," Harry asked amused, before shoving another piece of steak into his mouth.

"He tried to get more information about you by asking Abby and Ducky. Unsurprisingly David and McGee went along with it. Without a case they obviously have too much time on their hands."

The grin on Harry's lips became even bigger as he put his plate to the side. Jethro's plate was disposed of just as quickly, before he shifted onto the older man's lap. "Maybe, but if you had a case right now, I wouldn't be able to do this." Without another word Harry leant forward and pressed his lips against Jethro's.

Sometimes he still couldn't quite believe how they had ended up like this. The NCIS and the DMLE had crossed paths during a case, which resulted in the former being obliviated. Surprisingly, Jethro had been impervious to the mind magic. The Obliviate Squad had spelled him to secrecy and sent him on his merry way. Harry had visited the confused and frustrated man - against his superior's order – on his day off, to explain the magical word to him. Afterwards Jetho had asked him for assistance, obviously having noticed Harry's fascination with the half-finished boat.

Three weeks later they had shared their first kiss.