Disclaimer: I own nothing but merchandise for HP. Besides, if I DID own either/both of these, that HP/DW episode SO would have happened, cracktastic or not.
A/N: Yeeeah… I have no real explanation for this. I'm sure I'll probably get flames or something… It just occurred to me that most of the DW/HP crossovers involved Dr. Who as a father/mentor figure, so decided to go with something different. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows.
*** I've placed this as with the 10th Doctor post-Rose and pre-new companion. For HP it is post-Hogwarts AU ***
WARNING: THIS IS SLASH. 10TH/HP. IF THIS BOTHERS YOU, STOP READING AT THE LINE OF ASTRIKS AT THE BOTTOM.
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'You know… you have a saving-people thing…'
It started with a drink.
Whether by some quirk of fate or simply by coincidence he had looked over to his side, taking in the haggard and haunted look of the man next to him. It was a look he was quite intimately familiar with, and so he could read it from a kilometer away. So, spurred by sympathy and curiosity, he had bought the man another drink to add to his growing collection of empty shot glasses before setting out to rack up his own pile.
That look always had a story… perhaps this man's story could distract him from his own.
"You know… I never go looking for trouble. It just usually finds me."
"Mmhmm."
…
"My best friends in school once told me I had a 'saving people thing.' Later I found out there was actually a term for it—hero complex."
"Funny… a companion of mine once told me much the same thing."
Another round of drinks… or two.
"But really don't think I do. Just really terrible luck. Wrong place, wrong time…"
"The ones you've saved might argue that."
"But I know the ones I've killed would not."
More drinks… the thud of the glass as the shot is lowered. His sight was blurring, but it would fade sooner than later. Courtesy his biological make up, he was quick to intoxication, but just as quick to sobriety.
His neighbor seemed to be much in the same boat as he. Slowly, he lowered his glass to the bar, continuing to stare at it afterward as if it held all the answers to his dilemmas.
Perhaps for the moment it did.
"Are you expecting someone?" the man asked.
"No… I'm alone."
"Hmm… something else we seem to have in common. Maybe we're both different."
He nodded, "Something about holding the weight of worlds tends to run others off."
"You give them your love and affection, but as soon as you are faced with the hardest choice—the ones where no matter what you choose, others suffer—you look around and you're alone. It's enough to make Atlas shrug," the man said bitterly.
"'The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction.'"
He paused before continuing.
"But we carry it none the less. Though the power of kings may alienate us from others, someone has to make the hard and horrible choice for the greater good. At the moment, those someone's seem to be us. But just as our sometimes-companions come and go like the tide, none staying long… so too shall we. All things eventually come to an end. And therein lies the beauty of humankind. Everyday you all look into death's eyes… but instead of cowering back, as a whole you all take one step forward, further into the great unknown… All the while continuing to love and care for others of your kind."
There was a pause. Perhaps he had said to much. Then—
"So you really think they're worth it?"
He quirked an eyebrow at the response.
"Aren't you? You're human as well…"
A small, sad smile crept onto the man's lips as emerald eyes glistened softly. "I thought so too once. But now I have to wonder… some see me as something less than the dirt on their boot, others as a tool like a hammer or wrench… then there's others who liken me to a messiah fallen from grace—something between angel and demon. No matter who's right though… one fact remains the same. I'm still something different from human."
Suddenly he felt both his hearts go out to the young man before him. It was the closest thing to kinship he'd felt in so long… since the war…
"You know, I don't think I've caught your name in all this…"
"Doctor. Just… Doctor."
"And I'm Harry. Just, Harry."
Perhaps, just this one time…
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Heavy panting… clothes long since torn off…
Exploring hands and attentive mouths…
Caresses from the face down to lower regions…
Biting, grasping and clawing—embracing…
Hands tangled in his hair…. Lips begging for release.
The lithe form writhing in pleasured abandon underneath him…
As shadowed gray locked with emerald green, the younger smiled beautifully and the two hearts beating within his chest gave a particularly powerful pulse.
He had meant to give the other some measure of acceptance and understanding… he hadn't expected to have it returned to him as well.
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As Harry rolled over the next morning he opened his eyes sleepily to observe his empty room—and more noticeably, his empty bed.
He sighed and was about to close his eyes, ready to sleep another day away when something caught his eye—a note on the bedside table. Slowly he reached to pick u the note, unfolding it as he brought it closer to read. And as he did, he smiled.
Harry—
I'll be in touch.
~ the Doctor
"Hmm… I wonder… Doctor Who?"