Authors note: this is a fic that will be mainly based in the hp-verse with some of the characters from the show in it. Chaps will get longer further in. updates will be sporadic.
Warnings: Slash, het, femslash, threesome, twincest, threesome, moresome, cross dressing. There won't be any big details sex-wise as I will be keeping to the guidelines of the site.
Pairings: Grell/?, HP (when he's way older)/?, (more pairings later).
Little Red
Chapter 1: His Shinigami, The Lonely.
Grell had to admit, he never had much luck with men.
It had taken him centuries and many of his beloved's delicious looking, though firmly shod in polished shod feet into his glorious face (which proved to be such by remaining perfect after such callous treatment) before Grell was finally forced to give up on the demon.
He had tried going after Faust, but that delicious number had also escaped his clutches.
Grell humphed as he strode up the normal mortal street of the perfectly normal suburb in some slip of wherever. He didn't care. He was moody, depressed, and felt entirely lonely.
How was a sexy shinigami like him to contend with immortality without someone to liven things up?
Even all the delicious little bloodletters in the world were not enough to dispel his boredom.
He felt like he was missing something from his life, something important, something meaningful, something that would worship him with a big yummy red heart.
At this point, he was beginning to wonder if finding himself an eternal, well hung hubbywho would look divine in blood, especially in bed, was not what he needed after all.
Maybe he should take up scrapbooking…
Grell was brought out of his internal musings by a faint, soft coo.
He looked down.
Ah, his next appointment.
He opened the little red notebook, adjusting his stylish red shinigami glasses, and red the information that appeared.
Harry James Potter, 1 year, 3 months, 6 hours.
Death of exposure.
Grell looked down at the little bundle on the door step. He snapped his book closed.
"Really, leaving a child on the doorstep, how terribly cliché" he pulled out his trusty chain saw scythe revving it up and raising it above his head.
It was the tremulous "momma?" that made him pause.
He lowered the scythe curiously.
The infant, he had to admit, was cute, messy black hair, porclien white skin, pouty lips and, he couldn't help being delighted, eyes nearly the same shade as his own.
The baby giggled and raised little fists towards him as he bent closer, getting a better look, and actually grabbed onto his hair, purring and cooing "momma!" the baby reaffirmed, then "pretty momma." That's when the enfant began to nuzzle his hair, a little weakly, as the child was close to death after all.
Grell was delighted.
"Why yes, I am pretty aren't I?" he preened, "why my hair is the envy of all shinigamis really, I think that they are just jealous that I look so much more divine then they are, that's why I get so much flack…"
His voice trailed off as he registered the other word the enfant had used, Momma.
He had to admit, as he thought longer on it, especially given his thoughts that he had earlier about needing something in his life…he had to admit he was rather tickled by the idea that was unfolding in his mind, after all, it wasn't like it was totally against the rules, really, there wasn't really one for it, probably because no one had thought of it before, so even if it was found it wouldn't get him into any un-fun trouble…oh, and the mortals certainly didn't seem to want him.
Grell felt a grin spread across his face, sharp pointed teeth gleaming in the moonlight as he clapped his hands delightedly. Why it was rather brilliant! He clapped his hands delightedly.
Just think of all the things he would be able to do! It would be so much fun!
He picked the boy up; further delighted when the boy cuddled up to his chest, looking confused a moment by the lack of feminine cushion, but settled with another contended "momma."
With a wave of his hand, and a dramatic flair of his red coat, he disappeared into the dark nether, leaving an empty basket and a letter that eventually blew away in a stiff breeze.