Flame Drawn
She was an Italian Muggle, with a criminal background, six overprotective brothers, and a teenage hitman tutor, who nearly burned him to death. He was a powerful wizard, acclaimed British Auror and national hero. Therefore, a romance was a bad idea in all of the best ways. fem!Tsuna, Harry x Tsuna
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'In retrospect, throwing Mulligan through the Boss's window was not one of my better ideas,' Harry mused, leaning against the iron-latticed chair, 'Not that the prick didn't deserve it.'
Brian Mulligan was one of those entry-level Aurors that sorely tested Harry's patience. Not quite as much as his fangirls or- *shudder*- fanboys did, but in that he believed challenging the Man-Who-Won proved his worth somehow. Normally, Harry approved of a reasonable disregard of authority, because he would be a complete hypocrite otherwise, but there was a time and place for such things. And it was not breaking character in a four-month sting operation in Knockturn Alley just to get into a teammate's knickers. Thus, the flying tosser incident.
Chambers had agreed with him, which was the main reason why Harry hadn't received a black mark on his file. Still, regardless of the Boss's sympathy, an Auror Captain was expected to show more self-restraint than Harry had displayed, and some punishment was in order. In the end, the higher ups had agreed to transfer him to Italy for the next six months, to work on a Muggle-related case in Sicily. He would suffer the indignity of working with Muggles, but the impact to his career would be minimal and he may even make some international contacts.
"Reflect on your poor judgement under the sunshine and by the Mediterranean sea," Chambers had deadpanned, handing him the Portkey, "Bring me back some almond biscotti when you return."
Harry was grateful for his metaphorical slap on the wrist. Italy was a beautiful country, the almond biscotti was as delicious as promised, and a few months away from Britain might soothe Mrs. Weasley over his broken relationship. While he and Ginny had parted under amicable terms- right after the petite redhead had wrangled a promise to make her the godmother of his firstborn- no one else seemed pleased by it. The Daily Prophet had run no less than seven cover articles ranging from Harry's philandering ways, to Ginny's philandering ways, to an in-depth expose on his steamy love affair with Draco Malfoy.
"You cheated on me with Draco Malfoy, Harry?" Ginny had exclaimed, barely keeping a straight face on, "I can't- I can't- oh, Merlin! This is so hilarious!"
Harry was grateful for all of those reasons, but he was also utterly, undeniably, insufferably bored with the mission. He had been placed on a team with three others to break-up a mafia drug smuggling ring, but it had been seven weeks already, and they didn't have a single lead. Not that his time hadn't been spent wisely. The British Auror had learned to swear fluently in Italian, sampled half of the desserts in the city, and observed the easy relationship between the Italian Ministry of Magic and its Muggle counterpart, due in part to the occasional Muggle case their Aurors picked up.
'I should talk to Kingsley about trying that policy ourselves,' Harry thought, polishing off his coffee-flavoured panna cotta. He took out a wallet of brightly coloured Muggle paper, paid for his meal, and added a generous tip, before heading towards his partner.
"Have you heard anything?" Mariano Accardi, a Halfblood wizard with wavy chestnut hair, asked. He was a friendly man, but prone to incessant flirtation with his direct supervisor, Natale Cipriani. Having met the blunt, no-nonsense blonde before, Harry was all the more impressed by Mariano's nerve.
"They still refuse to talk," Harry replied, sighing. The civilians around Sicily's mafia-controlled neighborhoods were cordial and welcoming, until law enforcement ventured to ask any questions. Then, it was like trying to pull Hermione from the library during the month before OWLs. An impractical endeavor with great potential for bodily injury.
Mariano shrugged, nonplussed. "Yes, the Muggles here stick very closely to Omerta. I wouldn't be surprised if the mafia had their own version of your Azkaban."
"I doubt the Muggles have access to anything like the Dementors," Harry pointed out.
Mariano frowned, and his next reply was slower. "There are… strange things that occur here, but fall outside of Ministry jurisdiction. I'm pretty sure I've seen a Muggle cast a purple Incendio once, but they told me to keep it out of the official report. I don't have the clearance to be given any concrete information, but the lovely Ms. Cipriani told me that the underworld effectively polices itself."
"Then why are we here?" Harry asked, intrigued by his partner's admission.
"For show, I guess," and then a rakish grin crossed his face, "And so Natale has some way to punish me without messing up my pretty face. Alas, our positions in life mean that she can never admit to our glorious liaison of the heart."
"A liaison that only exists in your head," Harry snickered, "So, this is six months of lying around, twiddling our thumbs?"
"Not entirely," the brunette disagreed, "You became bilingual on this trip, didn't you?"
"I'm sure cursing in Italian will broaden my horizons immensely," Harry grinned.
"I can teach you another use," Mariano offered, winking, "French may get all of the attention, but Italian is the true language of love."
"Thanks, but I wouldn't have anyone to practice it on," Harry replied, laughing, "And I'm not a homewrecker. I wouldn't dream of breaking your one-sided love affair with Captain Cipriani."
The other man snorted. "As if you could hold a candle to the gorgeous blue eyes of my Natale. No, I thought it might be useful with Signoire Malfoy."
Harry's green eyes widened with horror. "How-?"
"International edition of the Prophet," Mariano didn't hold back his laughter, "I didn't want to pry, but I'm guessing from your face that it never actually occurred?"
'No, no, Merlin-bedamned, NO!" Harry exclaimed, pressing his face into his hands, "Colin takes one picture of us shaking hands after the war, and- no!"
"Good," Mariano approved, chuckling, "Malfoy is not an ugly man, but you should not love someone who fears to smile. Or with such pale skin. Standing next to you would make him look washed up in the society photos."
The British-born wizard rolled his eyes. "Not the reason I would have used, but yes, Malfoy and I would make a terrible couple."
"Then you're single?" Mariano pressed. At Harry's wary nod, his grin widened. "I bet if we try to matchmake you at the office, Natale would agree to a double date…"
"No," Harry shut down that plan immediately, "No way, am I getting involved between your death wish and Cipriani's wand."
The brunette sulked. "Aren't the Gryffindors supposed to be brave?"
"The Hat considered me for Slytherin first," the green-eyed man informed him. They would have continued their banter, had not a loud whoosh caught Harry's ear.
"What the-" Harry looked up, bracing his feet as an explosion tore through the premises ahead of them. Several meters ahead, brick and mortar rained down in a hail of fire, and screams began to fill the air. The subsequent tremors of the ground almost caused the two wizards to fall over, as black smoke marred the previously forget-me-not blue sky.
"Come on!" Mariano was the first to react, running against the press of people trying to escape.
Harry flicked his wrist, and cast a quick variant of the notice-me-not charm, designed to make crowds move around him, and followed. A localised Ebublio jinx around his mouth and nose encased it in a bubble of fresh oxygen, but the rancid smoke still stung his unprotected eyes.
The dark-haired Auror scanned his surroundings. Most of the entrance wall had crumbled, and the store's glass windows lay shattered on the ground. Several people had managed to escape the premises, but there were still a few stragglers…
"Harry!" Mariano's shout made his head swivel in the direction of the brunette. His partner was half-carrying, half-dragging an elderly man with a clear head wound, though the ease of movement suggested that a featherlight charm had been cast first. One hand lifted to form a few international law enforcement hand signs, and Harry nodded.
Taking in a deep, oxygen-rich breath, Harry cast a counter to the Flagrante curse- while mentally chiding himself for not learning a proper fire-repelling spell- and ran into the smoke. There was no one inside, so Harry's body twisted, folded, and collapsed into a blue-feathered bird with a white underbelly. Furiously beating his wings, the Siberian blue robin flew up the cracked staircase and into the loft above.
"H-help!" the high-pitched, panicked voice of a child began coughing, "Help me, please! S-someone…"
Harry immediately released his Animagus form, and landed on the smoking rug. He was in a partitioned living room/kitchenette, and the entire west wall was engulfed in flames. The cry had come from the opposite side of the room though. One Homenum Revelio later, and Harry headed towards the couch with two Aguamenti-soaked conjured towels in his hand.
"Excuse me, can you please call out," Harry kept his face down, to limit exposure to the smoke.
"H-here!" the voice said loudly, before subsiding into a cough, "I'm here!"
"The hell?!" another voice shouted, and the wizard heard the snap of one of the staggering stairs breaking. A man with blonde hair so light that it could pass for silver burst into the room, and paused, wide-eyed, when he saw Harry there. Never one to pass on help, Harry offered him a towel and pointed to the side wall.
The silver-haired man had excellent reaction speed, because he just nodded and took point to run into the flames crawling over the rug. Harry neatly stepped behind him, and despite the danger that he was currently in, took note of the way the flames seemed to bend away from his fellow rescuer. The final two stragglers were a small girl, no more than eight probably, hovering over an unconscious older woman with purple bruising on her temple.
"Take her," the silverette mouthed, gesturing to the young child. Harry shook his head, and, with a gentle push, passed the terrified girl to the other man's arms.
The look he had received in response could make milk curdle, but an ominous groan from behind them caused the silverette to move. He scooped up the child easily, ran back towards the door, and rushed out. Once Harry was sure the man couldn't see, he cast a few more spells on the unconscious woman, and proceeded to follow his companion's actions.
Half an hour later, and Harry was left to wave away the well-intentioned but pushy ambulance officers, so he could wash the soot and grime off his face. Mariano finally arrived to drag him away- promising the officer to take him to the nearest hospital if he so much as coughed once- and the British Auror could regain his equilibrium.
"That fire wasn't an accident," Mariano hissed, passing him a wet towelette. Harry gratefully wiped his face. "That explosion was too strong for cooking oil."
Harry grimaced. "Was that store on our suspect list?"
"No, and there's nothing connecting it to the mafia either," the Italian Auror groused. "I heard that another man was involved in the rescue upstairs. Do you know anything about him?"
"We didn't have the time to exchange life stories," Harry responded dryly, looking behind him, "But I think we make some new friends now."
The silver-haired man was standing across the street, seemingly arguing with a tall, dark-haired man of Japanese descent. When Harry and Mariano got within a few meters of them, the silverette looked up and pinned them with keen olive green eyes. The dark-haired man turned around too, and while his face bore a welcoming smile, his alert brown eyes lacked that warmth.
'Dangerous,' was Harry's immediate thought, and since he had always been an instinctive man, a similarly fake smile crossed his face.
"Hello," Harry greeted, standing a little more than an arm's length away. "I'm Harry. I wanted to see if you were cleared for the smoke?"
"Tch, as if I'd be brought down by some dirty air," a disdainful sneer crossed the silver-haired man's face. "Do you know what happened to the girl and her mother?"
Harry's smile became a bit more genuine. "They should make a full recovery. They didn't inhale much of the smoke, and the woman's bruising wasn't as bad as it looked." At least, not after he had cast a minor healing spell.
"Good," the man regarded him solemnly, "...You carried the woman out pretty easily."
"I'm stronger than I look," Harry replied, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, "Mrs. Benenati- that was the woman's name- wanted to thank you, but she couldn't find you before the ambulance officials bundled her up and carried her away."
The silverette nodded. "She owns the bakery here. I've bought some loaves of bread from her before."
"It's a shame that her shop was destroyed," Harry commented, "Rebuilding after that fire will be expensive, and she may have to take out some high-interest loans."
"She may get some financial assistance from the community," the silverette said cryptically, "Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Hayato, and this idiot is Takeshi."
"This is Mariano," and here, the brunette gave a friendly wave, "And I've introduced myself as Harry. It's nice to meet you both."
"Harry, are you from Britain?" Takeshi asked, an interest look on his face. When the dark-haired man nodded, he grinned. "Cool! We have some friends from there, but I've never gotten to visit. How are you liking Italy?"
"It's much sunnier than England," Harry answered, "The food is delicious too. I may have to be rolled back home."
The other man gave an appreciative chuckle. "I felt the exact same way when I first came here. Japan's fare is much more simple."
"We have to go now, Takeshi," Hayato interjected, offering both Harry and Marianno a nod. His friend had barely managed a goodbye, before the silverette grabbed him and started walking away.
Harry stayed silent, as he observed the two men. The unhurried pace, multiple pockets, three hands breadth separation to allow for maximum maneuverability… When they were out of sight, Harry gave his contemplative a side glance.
"Mafia?" Harry questioned.
Mariano's grin was triumphant. "We found our lead."
xxxxx
Renato Sinclair, the world's greatest hitman in the form of a gangly fourteen year old, brought lime green binoculars to his eyes as he observed the two wizards. Sitting beside him were two files, one far thicker than the other, about the two men that he was watching. Naturally, Reborn kept track of an Persons of Unusual Ability that entered Vongola or Allied domains. That classification covered all variant-Flame beings, such as Veela, Vampires, Werewolves, Sirens, and, most commonly, Wizards.
While not all beings would have a personal file, all Italian magical law enforcement had basic information supplied by their Ministry in exchange for Vindice's agreement to, among other concessions, hand over law-breaking wizards to their own justice system. Mariano Accardi's file had such minimal data, but a far thicker file was compiled for Harry Potter, Britain's Man-Who-Won. He had supposedly survived the Avada Kedavra curse twice, though only the second occasion could be corroborated by witness statements, and there were multiple Flame theories on how that happened.
Reborn personally subscribed to the one of strong dual Storm/Sun flames, as the Killing Curse performed its' deed by causing multiple organ failure simultaneously. With that theory, the Storm flames could disintegrate the curse while the Sun flames kept his bodily functions active.
His normal reaction to the inquisitive wizards would have been to contact the magical Ministry and have the two agents re-assigned, but Reborn held off on that. Disregarding his own curiosity about Potter's flames, he had shown some good instincts during the explosion, and would make a useful addition to the Famiglia.
The Vongola could benefit from a fully-trained wizard agent, especially since conflicts between Omerta and the Statute of Secrecy, meant that any mafia-born with magical talents received, at best, slipshod tutoring within their famiglias. Potter could be the bridge to a better relationship with the magical Ministry, and may even entice other wizards to join them. His personality also displayed hero-type traits, which was important due to the direction that Tsuna was determined to take them in.
Dealing with his fame could be annoying, but Reborn could see the potential upsides of exploiting that as well. And, as far as the former Arcobaleno could tell, the Man-Who-Won was even single.
'The Bovino heir was such a disappointment,' Reborn lamented inwardly. Not that he should have been surprised, since the idiot was related to that stupid cow, Lambo, but still. 'And it's not like any of her Guardians are stepping up to ensure the future of the Vongola. I should shoot them all for making their poor, old tutor go through all this worry.'
Making a mental note to kick his student's head the next time he saw her, Reborn focused back on the men that were walking towards their hotel room. In the manner of wizards everywhere, they hadn't bothered to check for Muggle listening devices, which was a bad habit that he would have to beat out of Potter.
Having come to his decision, Reborn channeled a thin stream of bubbly sunshine-yellow fire into his binoculars, and Leon transformed into an equally bright lime green cellphone. He pressed the first button.
"Hello Minion," Reborn greeted. Tsuna continually assigned him a personal assistant, but they all tended to quit after a week or two. Reborn had responded by not bothering to learn their names. Not that he had taken the effort with the first few either…
"I have need of you. Purchase me some sexy women's lingerie, in size seven."
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