For Liza
Caged
"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." - Emily Bronte
The smell of burnt rubber assaulted his nostrils as he skidded his motorbike to a stop. He was jumping off it and reaching for his gun even before he heard the shouts coming from a dingy alleyway. Pressing his back to the grime-coated wall, he focused on steadying his breathing, ears pricked up as he listened.
From the sounds of it, there were four men—four lesser than there were supposed to be—and they were having a heated argument, the contents of which he couldn't decipher due to his poor linguistic expertise, but he presumed it had something to do with the missing men. He pressed closer, attempting to catch a glimpse of the perpetrators, when his radio went off.
The voices fell silent, the only sound permeating the unusually quiet night that of intermittent static, and he cursed his luck. Rounding the corner with his gun drawn only to see the tail of a disappearing shadow, he swore at his own stupidity. He barked his location into the handset as he sprinted down the seedy alleyway and turned right. Dodging upturned garbage bins, he took the first left and jumped over a broken fence, wincing as he felt a sharp pain on his palm from having cut it.
He wound through back alleys and parking lots until he spotted a bald man up ahead. "Don't move!" he shouted, and the perp froze, hesitating only until the sound of squealing tyres alerted them of the others' arrival.
In an attempt to catch the bloke before he reached the rundown pickup truck, he sprinted across the parking lot, shooting at the asphalt and hoping to at least buy a few more seconds until backup arrived. The truck swerved sharply towards them, one of the perps leaning over the back to grab the other, smaller one and heave him over.
He scrambled to a stop as the truck picked up speed, coming directly at him, and he only had a moment's time to jump out of the way before it zoomed past. He crashed into a pile of boxes that had been pushed up against one of the cement columns, hitting the back of his head against something hard and groaning as his body convulsed in pain.
Seeing stars, he sighed and fell back, placing an arm over his eyes and wallowing in his epic failure. When he tried to move, his other arm was assaulted by a shock of numbness, and he was on pins and needles, grimacing at the odd sensation in his limbs as he waited for the feeling to pass.
"Potter, Potter!" someone kept calling through the cacophony, sounding worried, and he tried to focus on what was in front of him.
Everything was blurry, dark vignettes clouding the edges of his vision, and for a moment, he thought he saw something beside him shine. He blinked, and the light was gone, replaced by an odd symbol on the ground his bleeding palm had smudged, leaving him distraught and confused.
"Potter?" someone said again, and he coughed in reply.
"'M fine," he muttered, wondering if his partner had heard him.
"I hardly think so."
He narrowed his eyes, trying to discern where the silky voice was coming from, when he felt something soft caress his aching body and pull him backwards ever so gently.
"Who you?" he managed through the haze settling over him.
Silver eyes glittered in reply.
-oOo-
When he awoke, it was to the pungent aroma of freshly baked goods and flowers. It took him several seconds to think back to his last known surroundings and several more to discern that there were neither muffins nor gardens where he had been. Jumping upright, he swore at the jolt of pain that assaulted him and rummaged around for his glasses.
"Is this what you're looking for?"
Squinting up at the woman—or man, he couldn't quite tell through the haze—he accepted the offered spectacles and replaced it in its rightful position. Blinking, he took in the person standing before him, mouth falling open at his ethereal appearance.
His short, slicked-back hair gleamed like the purest of metals, his moon-bright skin glowing like fine diamond dust and his eyes shimmering like liquid silver. He wore some sort of flowing translucent tunic whose colours shifted with the light filtering down through the decorative foliage adorning the glass ceiling of the room they were in.
The room itself was more a carefully constructed and maintained garden than an interior of any sort, the flowers and plants growing around them so vivid and colourful and nothing like anything he had ever seen before. It was sublime, unearthly, and there was a subtle heaviness in the air around them, as though it were alive.
"Potter, I presume?" the man asked, his voice like birdsong, so pure and gentle that it could move one to tears.
"I—no—I mean—Harry," he stammered, fumbling with his own name, words forgotten in the wake of the beautiful being before him.
"Harry," the man mused, the corners of his lips upturning in an amused smirk as he stepped closer. "And where are you from, Harry?"
"Er," was as intelligent a response Harry could muster, his heart racing unusually fast and his cheeks heating up, "London. And you?"
His silver eyes twinkled as he quirked an eyebrow and gestured to the garden around them. Harry laughed awkwardly and nodded, unable to comprehend the unusual reaction his body was having to the other man.
"Are you not curious as to where you are? Or who I am?" the blond asked as he took another step towards Harry and leaned over him, his tunic brushing against Harry's chest—which, he realised belatedly, was bare—the silken material cool against Harry's burning skin.
"Yes—I mean, only if you want to tell me," he replied, leaning back and attempting to be polite. He somehow felt the need to treat the man before him like he would treat the Queen.
"Well, my name is Draconius, and I am the crown prince of this realm," the blond explained, moving away and making another sweeping gesture with his arm. "But please," he held out a hand and Harry took it without a second thought, "call me Draco."
"Re—Realm?" Harry blustered as Draco escorted him out of the sleeping chamber—or, rather, an ornately decorated birdcage, whose design Harry decided not to question—and down into the garden itself.
If Harry hadn't been so mesmerised by the other man, he would have seen the sadistic smirk and the evil twinkle in his stormy eyes for what they were. But, as it were, he was under the blond's spell, and when Draco smiled at him, he felt his mind melt and laughter bubble from deep within his chest, almost like he had been silently commanded to enjoy the serenity of the moment with his entire being.
"The Realm of Monsters, of course."
-oOo-
The 'Realm of Monsters', as Draco liked to call it, was indeed a world separate from his own, but the so-called monsters were more the enthralling mythical creatures from the fairytales of Harry's youth than actual beasts.
Draco himself was a Veela—the most exquisite species of all, who ruled the land with their beauty and intellect, who were well respected by many and feared by few, but most importantly, were all female.
When Harry had cast a sideways glance at Draco at this, the blond had only scoffed, gestured to the garden, and said, "You wouldn't believe it if I told you that I was imprisoned here."
"Why would they imprison their prince?" Harry had asked innocently, and Draco had simply glanced at him through half-closed eyes, offering nothing more than an endearing smile.
He had then continued to show Harry around the birdcage, as Draco called it with disdain, taking more time to explain the origins of the flowers he painstakingly grew than his own.
Finally, as the sun set and Harry sipped on his lemongrass tea in a daze, Draco appeared before him and snapped his fingers twice. A fog that seemed to have settled over his mind since the moment he had laid eyes on Draco lifted, the sharp clarity of his thoughts piercing through his skull and making his head ache.
"What—did you do to me?" he gasped, the aches and pains of his wounds, the bright colours of the flowers, and the shrill birdsong suddenly overwhelming.
Draco took the teacup from him and placed it on the side table, reaching out to caress Harry's chin gently. "Ah, you humans," he mused in the same singsong voice, "you never fail to amuse me with your fragile minds and bodies, always so weak in asserting your will and quick to succumb to a stronger one." Harry sat up straighter, his ears ringing, his mind whirring in confusion as he tried to sort through the information overflowing from his memory of the past several hours. "Do not worry," Draco continued, as though reading his mind, "you won't remember a single thing when you return to your world."
"Why…" Harry managed, his mind still foggy, "why did you do this to me?"
The look in Draco's eyes was cold and unforgiving. "Why indeed," he said, as he trailed his fingers down from Harry's chin to his chest and pushed.
The action was so gentle, but some unknown force sent Harry plummeting backwards, and he was free-falling through darkness, the image of Draco's stormy eyes burned into his mind.
-oOo-
"My lord, you are weak," Demitri said, his tone suggesting that it was merely an observation and not an admonition.
"Leave," he snapped, swaying as he walked back to his sleeping chamber and fell unceremoniously on his bed.
"Forgive me for overstepping my boundaries," Demitri said as he poured some clear liquid into a glass, "but I am merely concerned for your health, my prince."
"If you were that concerned about me, you wouldn't keep me locked up in here every minute of every day!" he said, slapping away the potion Demitri presented to him. "Where is Father?" he demanded as he struggled to push himself upright. "Take me to him at once!"
"His Highness has other matters to attend to," Demitri replied smoothly as he cleaned the mess. "As you know, Her Majesty is very unwell, and His Highness hardly needs another thing to worry about."
"Did you just call me a thing?" he asked, lip curling in disdain.
"I apologise profusely for my slip of tongue, my prince," Demitri said, bowing deeply.
He sneered, waving his hand in dismissal. "You would think that a male Harpy like you and a male Veela like me would get along just fine, considering we're both outcasts," he muttered, sullen. "Yet you're allowed to roam the realm freely while I remain locked up in this overembellished birdcage!"
"My lord…"
"Leave!" he snapped, his face contorting and the muscles of his cheeks and lips warping to form a sharp beak. When Demitri flinched at the change in his appearance, he pulled the covers over himself and focused on calming his anger, furious tears streaming down his face as he wallowed in self pity and loathing.
"Our world is a harsh place for you and I, my prince," Demitri's muffled voice said, "and as long as Her Majesty's magic protects this place, no one shall ever harm you. But, my lord, if you continue to venture into the human realm and expend your magic by bringing them in here and Bewitching them, you will have none to protect yourself if, Her Majesty forbid, the situation calls for it."
When he received no response, Demitri exited the room, leaving Draco wishing he hadn't sent back the human after all.
-oOo-
Harry awoke with a start, fumbled around for his glasses, and once he could see again, looked around. He was certain Draco had sent him back to his world, yet there he was, lying in the same bed he had awoken in, watching as daylight caressed the flowers and plants in the garden and cast away the shadows of the night.
With a startling realisation, he turned, jumping back in shock at the form lying in bed next to him. There was some rustling as the man turned, the sunlight making his pale skin and tousled hair glow like a statue sculpted out of the purest marble.
Draco blinked languidly, the skin between his brows crinkling in a frown as his gaze fell on Harry, the confusion evident in his gunmetal eyes.
"How have you returned?" he questioned, sitting up and letting the sheets flow off his petite form.
Harry had to use all of his willpower to keep his eyes fixed on the blond's face. "Didn't you bring me here again like last time?"
Draco yawned and stretched like a cat, and even that motion was so graceful that Harry found himself mesmerised by the ripples formed on his skin as it folded and lengthened.
"No, I did not," the blond said, his lips curling in a smug smirk at the way Harry followed every small movement. "But my suspicions have been confirmed." He rolled over to prop his chin in his hands, his elbows causing Harry's side of the mattress to dip. "You do have magic in your blood."
"Pardon?" Harry said, entranced by the way Draco's mouth moved to form words.
"Oh, for heaven's sake." The blond snapped his fingers and a bucket appeared over Harry, overturning and dousing him with cold water. "There, that should clear your head."
Before Harry could react he was dry again, but as Draco had said, the fog he hadn't realised he was slipping into had disappeared. "How did you do that?"
"Which part?" Draco said with a tinkling laugh as he slid out from under the sheets and pulled on a robe.
"All of it." Harry followed after the blond as he descended the stairs to the patio. "But mostly the thing where I can't take my eyes off of you."
"You flatter me," Draco said with an ostentatious flick of his wrist. "But that comes with being a Veela. As I'm mostly alone, I forget that I can have that effect on others."
Harry frowned in disbelief but was distracted as Draco pushed away the chairs to reveal an ornate symbol carved into the marble. It looked familiar enough, but Harry couldn't quite place it.
"This is how you got my attention the first time," he said, as though, once again, reading Harry's mind. "And, yes, I can read your thoughts; Legilimency is one of my many self-taught skills." Harry stared at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed, but Draco only laughed at him, looking amused. "You truly are quite a catch, Harry Potter. No human has intrigued me yet in the way you do."
"Er, thanks," Harry said, letting Draco lead him to the centre of the circle.
"Sit," the blond commanded, and Harry sat—on the chair that had moved up behind him—intently watching Draco's every move as he Summoned a table and some vials of coloured liquid. "You somehow managed to unlock a portal in your world that I sensed from here and, from the goodness of my heart, decided to connect with my own so as to not let you fall prey to other beings from other realms."
"I had a dream," Harry blurted out suddenly, causing Draco to quirk an eyebrow and hum in curiosity.
"Is that so?"
"About you." The smirk re-appeared on the blond's face, and Harry swallowed thickly, focusing all his energy on not letting himself be distracted by Draco's perfectly pink lips. "I think it has something to do with why I came back."
That seemed to pique Draco's curiosity enough for him to look up from his ministrations. "How do you mean?"
Harry narrated the events that transpired in his dream, careful to leave out the details that could upset the blond, then remembering that Draco could read his mind when the latter's face coloured in anger. Draco looked away, a hand flying to cover his face, and Harry was by his side in an instant, knowing what that meant and wanting to comfort the blond.
"Go away," Draco hissed, trying and failing to push Harry away in his still-weakened state, and Harry managed to pull the blond's hand away to see that the familiar facial features that mesmerised him had distorted to form a beak and stray feathers.
Draco's eyes were dark and stormy as he struggled in Harry's hold, but Harry only breathed out a laugh, shaking his head in awe at the sight before him. Draco stilled then, perhaps having read Harry's thoughts again, the frown disappearing from his face and his beak slowly contorting back to form his lips and cheeks. His eyes were like liquid silver as he said, "How are you not disturbed by any of this?"
"I don't know," Harry whispered, wondering for himself why he was taking everything into stride so simply. "Maybe I'm just that simple-minded."
Draco laughed, a short, almost human-like sound, and Harry had to restrain the urge to kiss him. He wasn't sure whether it was the blond's Veela powers that drew him to Draco so fiercely or if it was something within himself responding to the other man's presence, but he was sure of one thing: he wasn't about to force his muddled feelings on—
"Oh, just shut up and kiss me," Draco snapped, grabbing Harry by the back of his neck and crushing their mouths together.
The kiss was everything that Draco was not; it was fervent and eager, confused and urgent, desperate and wanton, and when they pulled away, Draco felt more human than Veela.
Harry blinked. Draco frowned. They both shook their heads.
"What just happened?" Harry asked at the exact moment Draco said, "Did you just read my thoughts?"
"I… think? But how?"
Draco stepped back, a pensive expression on his face as he moved back to his vials and herbs. Harry tried to tap into his thoughts again but failed, and wondered if it was just something accidental that had occurred due to the intensity of emotions in that moment.
"That could be it," Draco said in answer to Harry's thoughts. "But you also claim that you saw what transpired after I returned you to your world yesterday and that my wish that you hadn't left was what brought you back." He moved towards the circle, reaching out one hand towards Harry. "If that's true, then you were somehow tuned in with my thoughts back then, too."
"But how?" Harry asked as he came to take Draco's hand and stand before him. "You said yourself; you sent me back. And I remember falling through darkness, so—"
"Wait, you did what?"
Harry frowned, remembering the moment right after Draco had pushed him off the chair and out of his realm, watching as the blond's brows furrowed.
"That shouldn't happen," he murmured, tightening his grip on Harry's hand. "When I pushed you, you should have passed straight through the gateway between our worlds and landed right back in yours, exactly the way you had been before I pulled you here, having no memories of anything that had transpired here."
"Then," Harry said, his mind whirring in confusion as he tried to sift through this new information, "where did I go?"
Draco's eyes widened, his lips parting in a gasp as he shook his head slowly. "No, that can't be possible. But, there's a chance that—"
Harry touched Draco's cheek to grab his attention and said, "Tell me."
"This is only a theory, but if you didn't pass through the portal to your world, then you must have been stuck between both realms, which explains why you could tap into my thoughts or were summoned back by my wish—I was the sole string that kept you tethered to reality, and a slight tug in my direction caused you to topple back into this realm."
Harry shook his head. "I still don't understand. Why didn't I go back to my world? Why am I connected to you?"
Draco's eyes were still wide, his grey irises shimmering with flecks of silver, and he reached up to place his hand on Harry's. "Why indeed."
"My prince, your father, His Highness, intends to visit—"
Demitri stopped short as he spotted the two, the scroll in his hands clattering to the ground. "Prince Draco!" he admonished, his voice high-pitched in alarm. "You cannot be doing this!"
"Harry," Draco whispered, his hold on Harry's hand tightening for a moment before letting go. "Do you trust me?"
"I don't even know you," Harry said in an attempt at diffusing the tension, and Draco smiled, sending jolts of pleasure down Harry's spine.
"You are an odd human," Draco said, pressing his lips to Harry's. "Goodbye, Harry Potter."
"Wai—" Harry was cut off as Draco pushed him gently, and, once again, he was hurtling backwards into darkness.
-oOo-
"Father," he said, bowing deeply as a man who seemed the most human of those present entered the birdcage. "It has been a while."
"Far too long, it seems," the man replied, his long, platinum-blond hair flowing down one shoulder as he turned to examine the rune on the floor. "Demitri tells me you have inherited your mother's bad habit of delving in the human realm."
"Forgive me, Father," Draco said, his head bowed. "But there is only so much one can do, imprisoned the way I am."
"For shame," his father said, the disdain clear in his voice. "You liken Her Majesty's divine protection to a prison. What a travesty, to have to grow up in ignorance of the realm's corruption and treacheries."
Draco shrank from the power of his father's voice, the air around them trembling from the fury of his magic. "My deepest apologies."
His father sighed, a sound of resignation, one that pained Draco's heart, and said, "Your mother is very ill, Draco. I cannot say how much longer her magic will keep you protected."
Draco looked up at this, glancing between his father and Demitri, hoping that they were lying. He had always known that his mother was weak, she had been since before he could remember, but he had convinced himself that if she could hold up magic powerful enough to keep him and his own magic trapped within the birdcage, then she could not be as ill as everyone claimed.
"What are you saying?" he asked, disbelief clear in his voice.
"You must leave, son," his father said, somber. "As soon as her magic fails, you must go into hiding. Until I come to find you again, you must strive to keep yourself safe."
"What sort of joke is this?" Draco asked with a scoff. "Are you saying that I can never be a part of this world? That I will always remain an outcast, never accepted by my people?"
"Of course not." His father reached up with his hand then let it drop back to his side. "It will only be until you sire a daughter. Then you will be freed from the prejudice of your birthright and can live as freely as you wish."
Draco was shaking his head, unable to comprehend what his father was saying. Was being born as the only male Veela in existence such a terrible thing? Was his existence really something that no one could fathom or accept even after decades? Was his greed to be one among them too great?
"Fine," he said, turning away. "I will do as you say. I shall disappear."
"Draco…"
"I feel ill. I must rest," he said, moving towards his sleeping chamber. He heard his father and Demitri exit a few moments later and sighed.
"Harry," he whispered brokenly. "Come back."
-oOo-
Harry awoke to something warm and wet falling on his cheeks. When he looked up, it was to see Draco shedding tears, and his heart hurt so greatly, it was as though he had been shot straight through the chest.
"Please don't cry," he said, reaching up to brush away the tear stains. "It's not as bad as it seems."
"A lie is a very poor way to say hello," Draco groused, and Harry chuckled, pushing himself up from the other's lap.
"It doesn't have to be a lie." He took Draco's hands. "Run away with me."
The blond scoffed. "And where exactly would we go?"
"The human realm," Harry answered without hesitation. When Draco eyed him with scepticism, he continued, "Your father, he's human, isn't he?"
"My father is different. He's a wizard; magic runs strong through his veins, which is why he is able to live in this realm." He flicked his wrist, and the air seemed to contort around his hand. "I'm sure you've sensed it too; the air here, it is alive with magic. Only those with a strong affinity can survive it."
"Well, I've been here longer than any other human you've brought here and I'm perfectly fine, aren't I?"
Draco pondered over that, nodding slowly after a long moment. "I do believe you have rather powerful magic flowing through your veins." He reached up to place two fingers against the skin over the carotid artery in Harry's neck. "I can feel it."
"Then, how did your parents meet?" Harry asked.
"They met when my mother was visiting the human realm, as was her hobby when she was young, simply to see men and women alike fall under the spell of her Veela powers," Draco answered diligently.
Harry squeezed his hand. "Exactly. Besides, you've been to the human realm before; why are you hesitating now?"
He sighed, his long lashes fluttering as he blinked and closed his eyes. "I was birthed and have existed solely within my mother's protective magic." He motioned around. "This birdcage—I have heard my father joke about it being like a second womb, where she has kept me protected and well nourished all my life. I do not know if I can exist long without her magic."
"I don't believe that," Harry said. "Your father told you to go into hiding, didn't he? For that, you would have to leave this—" he waved his hand, not wanting to say the word, "—birdcage, and he seemed quite confident in you being able to do that."
Draco's smile was wan and he refused to meet Harry's eyes. "You seem to have forgotten his final words. As soon as I sire a daughter, this realm will no longer have any need for me. Either my magic shall survive only as long as I need to find a mate and sire a child, or the residents of this world shall find me, after which I shall, really and truly, disappear."
Harry could practically feel the blond's life force dwindling, and he pulled the other man close, hugging him to his chest, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, he blurted out, "Marry me."
Draco scoffed, pulling away to roll his eyes at Harry. "Did you hear nothing I just said?"
Harry shrugged. "You said you and I are connected in some way. Maybe my magic will be enough to keep the two of us alive. I mean, I never even knew I had any to begin with, so you can have all of mine, for all I care."
Draco's eyes twinkled, his lips finally upturning in a smile, and Harry felt the butterflies in his stomach once again, his heart rate increasing and his breathing growing shallow. The birdsong was shrill in his ears and all the colours in the room were blindingly bright. "Stop doing that," he breathed, leaning forward to kiss Draco. "Maybe losing your magic will be a good thing; at least I won't feel like I'm going to die every time you smile."
Draco laughed before shaking his head. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn down your proposal."
"Why's that?"
The blond shrugged. "You said so yourself; I hardly even know you."
Harry laughed, and suddenly there was a shift in the air. Draco's face paled and the colours in the garden seemed to seep into greys and blacks.
"Her Majesty..." the blond whispered, shuddering. "Mother's magic is disappearing."
"Is she…?" Harry said as they rose to their feet and rushed out.
"I don't know, but I can feel her protection dying," Draco said as he caressed a rose, watching as it withered away. He looked up at Harry. "You need to leave. I don't know what will befall me, but I refuse to allow you to share the same tragic fate."
He reached up to push Harry, but the latter grabbed his wrist and shook his head. "I'm not leaving alone."
"You must!" Draco said, pushing Harry, but it was more of a hard shove than the gentle thrust, and Harry simply stepped backwards. Draco frowned, cursing in frustration. "I can't focus!"
There was some sort of commotion outside the room and they heard the sound of wings as Demitri swooped down and landed before them, his appearance beaten and bloody.
"My prince," he said, rising to his feet shakily. "The queen has passed. You must leave. Your father is doing all that he can to keep the ones that seek your life from you." He turned his attention to Harry. "Can you protect him?"
Harry nodded, and, satisfied with the affirmation, Demitri took off again, leaving the two men to watch as the glass ceiling slowly begin to crack and cave in. Harry grabbed Draco and pulled him to the circle. "Focus," he said. "Open the portal so we can escape."
Draco shook his head. "I'm a fool if I let you talk me into this."
"We can debate the extent of your foolishness once we're alive and safe," Harry said, stepping away but not letting go of Draco's hand. "Alright. Now do what you need to do."
"This isn't going to work," Draco insisted even as a loud clatter echoed through the room. "We may end up in limbo once again, and without one of us in reality, we may be trapped there forever."
"At least we'll be together?" Harry supplied, but the blond only shook his head.
"I brought you here, Harry," he said, his eyes growing dark in the way they always did when he gathered his magic. "But this is not your world. It is mine. And I can't let you get involved in it."
"It's too late for that. I'm already involved in it."
Draco smiled, but this time, instead of causing Harry to go into a frenzy of happiness, his heart ached and he felt tears fill his eyes, his chest tightening and his jaw clenching in pain. "Not anymore." Draco pushed Harry, his fingertips barely brushing Harry's chest, but Harry could already feel himself falling. "You are an odd human, Harry Potter," Draco was saying. "But I'm glad to have stumbled upon you. May we meet again."
And he expected, hoped, even, to plummet into darkness, but Harry felt his back hit the asphalt as he skidded to a stop and collapsed back onto the pile of boxes, his mind going black just as he wondered if he would remember any of it.
-oOo-
He struggled to push himself to his feet, every inch of his body screaming in pain, but he persevered nevertheless, hobbling out of the parking lot. Sighing, he heard someone from team one of the backup unit say that the perps were heading in the direction of team two.
When he heard the resounding crash of a collision, he jogged down to the main road, baring his teeth in a satisfied grin as the rest of his squadron surrounded the four men. As he neared the scene, his partner came up and slapped him on the back, causing him to grunt in pain.
"Oooh, sorry mate. Looks like you've got a dislocated shoulder there."
"'M fine," he muttered, nodding towards the men being arrested. "Where's the rest'a them?"
His partner whistled and scratched his head. "At the station. Their getaway car broke down and the bloke that offered them a ride drove them straight over to us."
He frowned. "What a load of bull."
"That's what I said, mate. But it's the truth, I'm tellin' ya. Go see for yourself."
He did just that—right after he was administered first aid at his partner's insistence—and walked into the station with one arm in a sling, eyes scanning the room for the man that had been described to him. When he spotted the fellow, surprised by how good looking he was, he walked over and cleared his throat.
"I'm Agent Potter. I heard you brought in our perps?"
The blond looked up at him. Silver eyes glittered in reply.
Hogwarts Assignment #12; Philosophy: Nihilism and Existentialism, Task 2: Write about being freed from something (figuratively or literally). Word count: 300 - 3,500 (I'm waaaay above this. Apologies.)
Writing Club
Character Appreciation: Draco Malfoy. Prompts: (trait) Spoiled, (word) Sneer, (word) Greed, (character) Lucius Malfoy, (plot point) Not being able to follow through with a task
Disney Challange; Characters: True Love - Write about someone finding love unexpectedly.
Creature Features: Dementor: (AU) soulmate
Book Club: Dante: (object) rose, (word) heart, (colour) black,
Showtime: Not My Father's Son - (relationship) Father and Son
Amber's Attic: Pinocchio: Write about someone who wants to be normal.
Count Your Buttons: AU - Soulmate!AU, Characters - Harry Potter, Song - Weak by AJR, Word - serenity
Lyric Alley: Filled up feelings, That now are bursting at the seams (I know we're only supposed to use one but the second didn't make sense without the first, so)
Ami's Audio Admirations: Know it All — Alt. Write about a master Legilimens.
Sophie's Shelf: 5. Beatrice Baudelaire: Task: Write about someone refusing a marriage proposal.
Em's Emporium: Characters- Lily Evans Potter: Write about someone sacrificing their life for the people they love.
Lo's Lowdown: Dialogue - "A lie is a very poor way to say hello."
Also written for The Insane House Challenge, pairing: Harry/Draco