Tales of the Grand Illusion
Disclaimer: Don't own, never will own, and will cry in a corner b/c of that...
Note: These are moments that didn't make it into the one-shots and one is an alternate tangent based on the one-shots.
WARNINGS: might contain slash but mostly gen-fic
000/000
Harry tilted his head back to gaze at the azure sky. In the distance was the faint cry of an eagle. The wind whistled softly in his ears. His white clothes flapped in the dry breeze. Far below was a simple stack of hay. But for now he stood upon the very tip of a wooden platform hidden high up the mountain and disguised by his magic.
"Do you fear death?" Altaïr asked from behind him. The Syrian assassin had managed to project himself far from the Apple in order to properly witness this part of the initiation.
"No," Harry answered.
"Then go with God."
The wizard assassin smiled and launched himself forward into the air, his arms spread wide.
It was on that day the Harry Potter truly knew what it meant to take a leap of faith.
000/000
Strong fingers clutched at the small rock that was posing as a handhold. The fingers belonged to the assassin named Harry Potter. His other hand swung up to grasp another. Bit by bit the wizard pulled himself up the three-sided shaft of stone that he had carved in the face of a cave. Below him was a stack of hay in case he fell. A few more feet and the handholds on the side that he was climbing were no more. He grunted and turned his head to eye the wall at his back. His green eyes lit up at the sight of the next set of handholds.
Muscles coiled. His whole body tensed. Silently Harry pushed off from where he was clinging, twisting his body around. Calloused digits grabbed the stones of the wall. He began to climb again.
Altaïr watched him climb up, hands on his hips and hood thrown back from his face. Smug triumph when his Novice made it to the top graced his face.
000/000
"I think I'm fading," Harry answered. And it was true; he was mostly shades of white and gray now instead of his usual vibrant peaches and cream skin, dark hair, and bright, poison green eyes. "I can still touch you though." To prove his point again, since he had shaken the other awake, Harry touched the top of Malik's hand. He blinked in surprise when the other assassin flipped his hand over to intertwine their fingers, hands now palm to palm. "Malik?"
"Don't go, Harry," Malik rasped, looked down at the wizard's upturned face. "Don't leave me."
Harry bit his lower lip. "I don't want to leave you," he whispered. His hand rose to cup Malik's scruffy face. "I do want to stay—Oomph!"
Malik was suddenly pressing his lips against the wizard's own, the younger man's hand falling to grip at his shoulder. The Syrian's eyes slid closed and he opened his mouth to trace his tongue along the seam of Harry's lips. He groaned when those soft lips opened beneath his own. Tongues tangled as they breathed through their noses. Because Malik's eyes were closed, he did not witness the color or the visible solidarity that returned to Harry's body. Instead he drowned in the taste of the future assassin, cinnamon and honey. He delighted in the muffled mewls that escaped from the shorter man's throat. Slowly he pulled away after one last suck of the other's tongue and he opened his eyes. "Harry, you're..." He started to laugh, pressing his face against the crook of Harry's shoulder.
Harry blinked and looked down at himself. "Oh!" A bright smiled spread across his face. "I guess I'm staying."
Malik Al-Sayf let out a satisfied hum and lifted his head just enough to take another kiss from Harry Potter. He pulled him forward as he fell back onto the bed with his hand still intertwined with the wizard's own.
So this was love...
000/000
"In another of my dreams, little Descendant?" Ezio Auditore laughed after Harry materialized right in front of him. The Italian smiled widely. "Not that I'm complaining." He waggled his eyebrows at the disgruntled wizard. "I thought I had told you to wake up the last time we met."
"Nope, apparently you just kicked out to here instead," Harry retorted. Then he gazed at his surroundings in surprise. "Where is here, anyway?" He didn't flinched when the Renaissance Assassino swung an arm around his shoulders.
"This is the Assassin's Chamber below my family's villa. See here are six statues of our ancestors."
"Altaïr!" Harry wriggled out from under the other's arm to hurry over to the statue of his Master. He gripped at the metal grate that prevented him from touching the marble. He stood upon his tiptoes as he stared up at the familiar face.
"I see that you know of him," Ezio said as he came up beside the other brunet. He too was looking up at the statue's face. "I hear that he was a great man. And I have his Codex that is proof of it."
"He was also an ass."
Ezio threw his head back with laughter at the statement and the matter-of-fact tone it had been delivered in.
000/000
"No, no, no! You ding-dong!" Harry snapped, cuffing Desmond on the back of his head. "Here! This is how you should..." The wizard continued to teach the younger assassin some footwork to go along with the swordplay he was still picking up from Ezio's memories. Rebecca giggled into her hand as she, Lucy, and Shaun stood in front of the glass of the warehouse' office to watch the two Ibn La-Ahad descendants train together.
"He's really good," Lucy commented.
Shaun pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Of course he is. He was personally taught by Altaïr's reflection and he did it in real life instead of in another's memories. But it also took him years," he said. His lips quirked up when Desmond tripped over his own feet. Harry was obviously laughing, the sound muffled by the glass. Shaun shook his head. "We've got a lot of work still. Come on, best get back to our own stuff while they train."
"Yay!" Rebecca cheered. "Gotta check on Baby's upgrades." She skipped away to the Animus' room with Lucy at her heels.
Shaun Hastings stared a few moments longer at the pair of assassins training together. He squinted and could have sworn he saw Altaïr and Ezio watching the pair from within the shadows. He shook his head, the ghostly images disappearing with the motion. Then he turned away to get back to his tasks with a grumble about needing more sleep.
000/000
END