A/N: Okay, I know I promised that I'd get to work on finishing LW but to be honest, it's just not cooperating and neither is Interludes at the moment. This idea's been sitting around in my head for a while now and I've decided to just get it out and onto paper (of the electronic kind) in the hope that then there might be some more room in my mind for LW and Interludes. My major apologies to the people who are waiting for an update for either one of those and doubly so to the people that are kind enough to review/favourite/follow.

I've also come to the conclusion that I have now written one of every type of story that I generally avoid. OC romances, cross-overs and complete AU's. I am clearly a hypocrite.

Since this story is completely AU, there will be characters in here that could not canonically appear together in the books, usually because they're dead. Hopefully I've managed to keep them all in character in this totally different setting.

And since I really cannot write anything else, the main pairing in this story will be slash in spite of the fact that the other half of the canonical pairing is still alive. Actually, this story gave me an opportunity to think about who I really do ship across all the books, reality/death be damned, which has resulted in the background (and het!) pairing. The major pairing that appears in this story is my OTP and hopefully I'll be able to sell it to you guys since at the moment, I gather I'm the only person that ships these two together and maybe even the only person that even likes the other half of the pairing. As Darren Criss so eloquently said with regards to Draco and Hermione, "there's no way two people could be that mean to each other without having to suppress some kind of feelings and we we're hoping it would come to fruition but it never did." I truly hope every Harry Potter fan knows what that quote is referring to.

Also, I just wanted to say quickly and hopefully not to desperate sounding, at least part of the reason I've been struggling so much to write is that I've been putting a lot of effort into attempting to bring back some real life to this fandom. We're only small but I know smaller fandoms that still have meta discussions about plot holes and favourite characters and future books. Hell, at this point I'd even settle for a good shipping war. Anyway, it's just not happening and it's pretty disenchanting. I'd be more than happy to run a prompt meme and organise challenges and exchanges, all I ask is for some response. So if you're on livejournal, (If you're not on it, you should join up, it's fun. I'm always open to friends and will friend back and will be more than happy to introduce you to how the site works and some good groups to join. If you don't know what livejournal is, it's like facebook for fandom and it's pretty awesome once you get used to it.) do me a favour, join the MR community there and let's have some fun together as a fandom! There, shameless pleading/spamming over.

And just to make sure it's absolutely clear, when a Buck is mentioned, unless it's specified as Senior, it's always referring to Junior.

Chapter 1

When the bell went for the end of sixth period, Shane Schofield was the first person out the door. With no one to stop to chat to and having managed to avoid giving the teacher a reason to hold him back for this lesson at least, he was able to make it to his locker and grab his bags at record speed.
But even that wasn't fast enough.

Across the hall, the Riley boy, on his way to his own locker and with his gaggle of friends hanging around him, raised his hand in a casual wave.

Schofield didn't know how the other kid managed to pull it off. No matter their conflicting timetables; in spite of their lockers being at opposite ends of the schools and between Riley's half a dozen extra-curriculars, he still managed to find a time every day to acknowledge Schofield's presence in his school.

It was never obvious or intruding, just a wave across a crowded corridor, but Schofield didn't understand why the kid bothered and it was starting to do his head in.

He scowled back at the younger boy but jerked his head in acknowledgement anyway.

Schofield made his break for the doors and freedom but not before he heard one of the girls ask Riley, "Who is he, anyway?"

He didn't hang around long enough to hear Riley's answer.

Schofield walked the long way back to the Riley's place on purpose. The suburb was great. It wasn't the swankiest place Schofield had stayed by far – plenty of rich families liked to take in kids like him to feel like they were doing something good, so he'd stayed in some posh digs – but the streets were clean and lined with trees. The houses were worn in a friendly, lived in way and there was always some little kid on a bicycle or playing in a park. It was the sort of place Schofield imagined felt like home.

By the time he arrived at the brown brick house with its wide front porch and leafy garden, Schofield was pushing for time. He wasn't late exactly late yet – the light was on in the kitchen window but not the dining room, so Paula Riley must still have been cooking dinner. He wasn't technically late until dinner had started. That was one of the Rileys' rules: we eat together – but he wasn't quite back when he was meant to be either.

When he let himself in through the creaking front door – they had given him his own key. It was a big thing, okay – he found he was right. Paula called a hello to him from the kitchen, where the tantalising smells of a home-made meal were wafting from, and the obligatory 'how was your day?'

He made a non-committal sort of grunt that didn't answer the question at all but managed a half smile for her on his way past the wide open kitchen door.

She didn't ask him why he was late.
That was one of the great things about the Rileys - they didn't push for the details he didn't want to give; not if they didn't matter. And seeing as the worst that could be said of him was that his sneakers were scuffed, it didn't matter.

He was home in time for dinner.
In the six or so months that the Rileys had been fostering him, he hadn't yet missed dinner.
That was what mattered.

As he ran upstairs, he could tell Buck Riley Junior was already home because he could hear the shower running. Shutting the door – to his bedroom, The Rileys were new to fostering but they would learn – Shane allowed himself a whole minute of just collapsing on the bed before reluctantly fishing the monster pile of maths homework from his bad and dragging himself to the desk.

He'd only been working for ten minutes, though it felt like hours, when the door snuck open again and a balled up towel hit him in the head.

"Nice shot," he said scathingly to Buck Riley Junior, whose smiling face had appeared in the doorway, drying his neatly cut short brown hair with another towel.

"Well don't leave your dirty things lying around in the bathroom," Buck shot back. "Other people have to use it too."

For some reason Schofield wasn't even going to try to fathom, the younger boy brought his laptop into his bedroom, sat down on the floor with his back up against the bed and opened it, beginning some game that made a lot of noise like he was shooting something.

"What are you doing?" Schofield asked, tearing his eyes away from his work to look down at Riley.

"Playing a computer game," the younger boy answered as though it should have been obvious.

Actually, it was obvious but that hadn't been what Shane was asking. He was asking why the boy was playing a computer game in his room and in his presence. The kid had friends he could go bother, didn't he?

"Don't you have your own homework to do?" He asked.

Buck shook his head.
"I already did it," he replied.

Then it was Schofield's turn to shake his head.
"Of course you did."

"Want to play?" Buck asked. "The graphics on the way the aliens' heads blow up is really cool."

Schofield looked at his like he was an idiot.
"No."

Buck just shrugged and went back to his game. The kid was indomitable; Schofield had to give him that. Shane didn't really feel justified in kicking him out of the room. After all, he actually lived here whilst Schofield was just a stray in from the cold. He went back to his homework.

Schofield didn't actually mind maths all that much. The numbers were always right or wrong, clear cut, predictable, reliable. He hadn't had a lot of reliable in his life.
It was the English homework he was really not looking forward too.

They stayed that way for nearly an hour – Schofield steadily working through the problems and Buck steadily working through the aliens – until they both heard the front door open and shut again, signalling that Buck Riley Senior had arrived home. Downstairs, they could hear Paula and Buck Senior in the hallway and Paula took the opportunity to call both boys down for dinner.

Together, they set the table whilst Paula put the finishing touches on dinner. She had made meatloaf again. They probably ate meatloaf at least once a week but Shane didn't mind. It was his favourite actually but he wasn't going to kid himself into thinking that's why Paula made it so often.

The meatloaf at the home he'd been in had been dreadful, cobbled together from whatever scrap meats they had lying around so as not to waste a mouthful. The money for state homes didn't stretch far enough for that. Every foster family he'd ever stayed with had always made meatloaf as well, with varying degrees of tasty and so it seemed to him something special. Something for families.

Paula Riley's meatloaf was good by his standards and he'd tried a lot of meatloaf in his time. She always cooked it just right until it was juicy and tender and there was a mystery spice she added to it that Shane had never had before. It just worked. Simple and hearty.
Paula Riley wasn't the best cook normally but damn, the woman made a fierce meatloaf.

Over dinner, Buck Riley Senior loosened the tie on his khaki service uniform and regaled them with tales of the latest recruit dramas. He was a drill instructor down at the famous Parris Island Recruit Depot. Schofield had heard that he had once been a marine recon but an unfortunate injury had pulled him out of active service. Nowadays, he trained the new recons.

Schofield could easily imagine that Riley Senior was good at his job. He had a patience and a calming presence that the recruits probably needed. Some of the other instructors had a glare that would send even the toughest of marines running for the hills but when Buck Riley Senior looked at you with disappointment in his eyes, it was enough to make anyone want to do better.

"Did you boys have plans for this evening?" Paula asked, her kind eyes surveying Schofield over the glass she had wrapped in her hands.

"Homework," Schofield mumbled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes after Buck had announced that he had invited a few friends over.

Paula continued to look at Shane and he had the peculiar sense that she could see right through him.

"You know you're welcome to have friends over too, Shane," She said gently.

Schofield nodded.
They both knew he didn't have any friends to invite but it was a nice sentiment.

"You could join us?" Buck Junior piped up.

"What, and hang out with a bunch of loser sophomores," Schofield said with just enough laughter in his voice so that the younger teen knew he was joking. "Thanks but no thanks."

It wasn't technically true either. Shane knew that the pretty blonde girl in Buck's year was dating that big football player; and wasn't that just the picture of ideal teenage life. Anyway, the footballer, who's name Schofield had never bothered to catch, would be coming over too if the blonde girl came and he was a senior.

When he'd first moved in with the Rileys, there had been some debate about which year in school to enrol Schofield in. He was sort of young for a junior and his last few years of school had been pretty broken to say the least. It probably wouldn't have done him any harm to have gone back and done sophomore year again but he wasn't having it.

If things had gone the other way, or if Schofield wasn't so stubborn, he may very well have been a sophomore, tagging on the end of Buck's little group.

It was a pretty pathetic excuse really.

Instead, he offered to do the dishes, gathering them up and speeding from the dining room before the doorbell rang for the first time but not before he saw Paula and Buck Riley Senior exchange a look. Whatever they said quietly to each other, he couldn't hear over the clatter of the dishes.