AN: I want to thank Crescent Luna Moon for the cookie, though Harry needed comfort food more; I was just depressed that day. I got some good suggestions but I going to be using Taboo22's idea seeing as Harry's lover probably should have a different temperament. Now, to Taboo22 thanking you for your suggestion. I will be crossing over with the X-Men movies, starting from X2: X-Men United and will be pairing Harry with Kurt. Sorry for those of you who were wishing for something different.
A New Beginning
Chapter Two
I had been in the States for about five months and jumping from hotel to hotel in Boston for about two. I had bought a duffel bag, so that it wouldn't look suspicious of me to have different clothes on or whatever random thing people would notice of me. I don't know why I hadn't left yet but something was telling me to stay, like something was going to happen and I would need to be there. That night I didn't feel like paying for a crappy or a ritzy hotel, so I was scoping out places where I could sleep without being disturbed. It was probably around eleven when I stumbled upon a church in the less nicer side of the city. I walked up to the doors and carefully opened one, peeking in. I realized I wouldn't be sleeping in the pews of an active church. There were sheets either being hung or draped over something and some abandoned equipment, not to mention the dust that covered everything.
I took a bunch of the sheets and built a bed in one of the out of the way corners, where I could see but not be seen. I was settling down to sleep when I suddenly heard this whoosh of air come from the front doors, I looked up thinking that I had left the door open and instead I saw a man standing there clutching the upper part of his left arm. What stunned wasn't that he had appeared out of thin air, it was four things. Number one, he had blue skin! Number two, he had a tail! Number three, he had three fingers! And number four, was that he still somehow looked completely attractive!
He started to walk toward the Virgin Mary statue at the head of the church and he was still clutching his arm. I could faintly smell that metallic tang of blood in the air; he was injured. Slowly and carefully, so as not to make much noise, I stood. I knew that speaking would probably startle him but it was better than approaching him. I calmly took a cleansing breath and spoke softly, almost at a whisper, "Are you injured?"
He jerked violently to face me and disappeared in a burst of blackish-bluish mist as soon as his golden-yellow eyes met my green, though I heard him reappear up in the rafters.
I tilted my head up, "I'm not going to hurt you. I was just going to treat your wound, I could smell the blood," I paused waiting for a reply; none came. I sighed and grabbed my duffel bag from beside the makeshift bed, "Since you're obviously uncomfortable with me within you vicinity, I'll just find somewhere else to sleep. Although, you should have that treated someway before it gets infected."
I was barely within twelve feet of the door when I heard another whoosh of air not too far behind me, "Vhy are you not running scared?" he spoke with a German accent.
I turned around to look at him; he was at least six inches taller than my five foot eight which made him about six foot two. His black hair was a bit curly and at least two inches in length at every place and rugged aristocrat features, if there even was such a thing but that was the only way to describe him. I focused on his eyes, they remind me of topaz only brighter, "Why should I be? Because you're a mutant? You haven't done anything to me, are you planning to?"
"Vell…no."
I flashed him a smile, "Then I'm not scared of you. Now," I knelt down on the ground and reached into my duffel bag to pull out a small medic kit, "how about we get to treating your wound."
"Alright," he settled down in one of the uncovered pews. "My name is Vagner; Kurt Vagner."
"Evans; Hadrian James Evans."
After cleaning and wrapping his wound, Kurt told me about his little ordeal at the White House and how is was like a dream where he could see everything happening but could not speak or move of his own accord. It sounded like an Imperious to me. We were sitting back to back, leaning against each other. He was explaining to me about mutants; how they commonly have one or two powers, how sometimes it manifests in their appearance too, how they are shunned and condemned by humans because of what they are. Sounded like back in Britain with the Muggleborns, Half-bloods, Purebloods, and Creatures; so much prejudice and hate.
We suddenly heard the soft hum of an engine outside the church. Not long after the engine was cut we heard soft footsteps approaching the church.
"Hadrian, do you trust me?" Kurt whispered.
"Yeah," and surprisingly it was true.
Kurt spun around and latched his arms around my waist and teleported with me. It wasn't the horribly uncomfortable feeling of being dragged through a small tube like Apparation, but instead it was like a gush of wind surrounding you in misted shadows, just like how it looks. We appeared in a far back corner of the church, hidden high in the rafters, "Stay quiet; do not let zem know you are here." He teleported to the other side of the church just as two women entered the church. The first had mocha skin and shoulder length white hair and the other woman was white and had dark red hair, almost the color of blood.
Kurt bellowed, "GET OUT!" and teleported to different places all over the church and started saying things in German, and when he stopped it was on the center most rafter in the church.
"We're not here to hurt you," spoke the woman with white hair, "we just want to talk."
"GET OUT!"
The red head said something to the other before the white haired woman asked Kurt, "Sure you don't want to come down?"
When Kurt gave no reply she looked back to the red headed woman for some sort of conformation and when she looked back up to where Kurt was crouched lightening suddenly started to flash, what was freaky was that it was flashing inside the church. A bolt lashed out at Kurt's perch, destroying the rafter, and he started to plummet toward the ground but stopped suddenly barely six feet from the ground.
The red head started to approach him and the other woman asked, "Do you have him?"
To which the red head replied, "He's not going anywhere, are you?"
I barely knew Kurt but these women were dangerous and it was bad having them that close to him, especially if they were there because of the incident with the president; I didn't even need to think of my actions. I Disapparated from my perch up in the rafter with the faintest of cracks and reappeared in between Kurt and the two women.
"He didn't do anything! Don't hurt him!" my arms were spread out to my sides trying to block him from their eyes.
The white haired woman spoke up, "Now why would people have gotten that impression?" her tone had an underlying sarcasm to it.
My eyes flashed in anger, "It wasn't his fault! Someone made him do it; it was like mind control!" I hissed. " He didn't have a choice, there was no physical way for him to stop himself. He said he could see it happening but he couldn't stop himself. The pain of getting shot in the arm gave him back control." My eyes fixed on the red head, "Now let him down," my voice was low and dangerous.
The two women exchanged a quick glance before she set him down onto his feet. As soon as he touched down, he grabbed my shoulders to spin me to face him, "Vhy didn't you listen to me? You could haff gotten hurt or vorse, and vhy didn't you tell me you could do zat?"
"I didn't listen because you were hanging upside-down at the mercy of two unknown threats and I didn't tell you because you never asked," I looked down sheepishly and mumbled, "sorry."
Kurt ruffled my hair, "It is fine, just a shock."
The white haired woman cleared her throat, causing Kurt and I to look at her, "Before you were in the White House, what do you remember?"
Kurt shook his head minutely, "Nuhzing, I vas here."
"Jean?" she asked.
"I'd rather get him back to the Professor," the red headed woman, Jean, replied a bit shakily. I narrowed my eyes at her, she was hiding something she didn't want the other to know.
Kurt looked a bit apprehensive at the mention of a "professor" and asked just as worriedly, "The professor?"
The white haired woman redirected the conversation when she took notice of the markings on Kurt's skin, "Do you do those yourself?"
"Yes," Kurt replied evenly, though guarded.
"But," I interjected, "there's this one on the back of his neck that he doesn't know where it came from." I narrowed my eyes at them both, "And who is the professor?"
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