A/N: The boys have their first fight, and Harry remodels his house. Everybody's secrets get spilled.
There's a photo of Harry's Forks House on my LiveJournal: twistyguru (d0t) livejournal (d0t) com; you may have to scroll down a bit to find it, but feel free to browse about-there's also a pic that goes well with my Mary Poppins/Harry Potter stories, as well as the usual other stuff. You know how these livejournals get; they turn into literary attics after a few years.
DISCLAIMER AND WARNING: PLEASE SEE CHAPTER 1! This is SLASH and has MPREG later! Don't like, go away!
CHAPTER 2
Naturally, their first fight was epic.
It hadn't been too many days since Harry and Billy had met, and Jacob had been walking on cloud nine ever since. Harry, on the other hand, had been dealing with a contractor who apparently didn't speak any form of the English language Harry knew.
The morning after meeting Billy, Harry had gotten up bright and early and driven from his motel to his house. He'd wanted to meet with his contractor early, as he had a few changes in mind to make his home more handicapped-friendly. He'd known that what he wanted would be more expensive, and extend the time needed to complete the remodel, but he didn't really care.
He was starting to realize that having access to unlimited wealth and a long lifespan—without the threat of a Dark Moron hanging over one's head—gave one a rather different perspective from most people.
The contractor had balked at the first mention of changing anything at all. He made dire predictions about the cost, even when Harry said, repeatedly, that money was no object, even to the point of invoking Sirius' bequest to him. Not seeing the warning signs on Harry's face, the contractor made a number of excuses about permits, more plans, the need to involve an architect and delay the job until that was done. Harry said fine, I'd love to talk with the architect, when can we meet? The contractor then made a snide remark about Harry living in a motel for the next year, to which Harry just shrugged. After his cupboard on Privet Drive and years sharing a dorm with Ron and Dean's snores and Seamus' morning flatulence, his residential suite suited him just fine. Finally, the contractor said he had other jobs lined up after Harry's, and he couldn't change his schedule by more than a day or so…maybe enough to put in a wheelchair ramp, but that was about it. After all, Harry didn't really need it, did he?
Harry turned away from the man to keep from hexing him, took a few cleansing breaths, pulled his Occulumency shields up, turned back around and fired the man.
"I'll expect you to leave the plans and a summary of what's been done and what's left to do," Harry said calmly. "I'll pay the full amount, plus whatever penalty you want to charge me, but I want you gone by the end of the day. Thank you very much."
When Jacob arrived for their lunch date that day (he was still a little freaked out to be 'dating' a male, but since it was his imprint, he was adjusting rapidly), he found Harry still fuming. Naturally, he asked Harry what was wrong, and got an earful. Then, trying to mollify his imprint, Jacob said exactly the wrong thing.
"Harry, you really don't have to change your house plans just because of my dad. Maybe if you went back and talked to the contractor…."
Compared to the explosion that followed, Mt. St. Helens was a firecracker. Harry ranted and raved about the stupidity of contractors in general and mankind in particular; he knew what he wanted and was bloody well sick and tired of being told he couldn't have it, or that he didn't really need it, or shouldn't have it because it wouldn't advance the Greater Good (Jacob could hear the capital letters, but didn't dare interrupt at that point to ask). He, Harry J. Potter, was going to make his home one that his new friend Billy Black would be totally comfortable and safe in, come hell or hippogryphs, and if it took a hundred years and a hundred tons of gold to make it happen then by Merlin, Mordred and Morgana's saggy tits he was going to make it happen! Furthermore he was sodding well done with being told what he could and could not do; it was his house and his money and if he had to he would raze the place to the ground and start fresh, "See if I won't, now GET OUT!"
The next thing Jacob knew, he was standing beside his Rabbit, not really knowing how he'd gotten there. Shaken, stunned and more than a little hurt, he drove back home and slunk into his room, muttering to Billy "we had a fight" but not saying anything else.
Two hours later, Billy was still torn between keeping well away from the pair or going into town to give that Potter boy a piece of his mind, when a very subdued and contrite Harry Potter knocked on his door. In a soft voice, Harry told Billy that he'd been an arse to Jacob that morning, and taken out his frustrations on the Quileute, when none of it was Jacob's fault at all. Harry looked like he'd been crying, and Billy couldn't miss the sincerity in his voice and manner. So, Billy only nodded, said "sometimes things like that happen; it's what we do afterward that's most important—well, that, and try to learn from our mistakes, to keep it from happening again", and called Jacob into the living room.
Jacob didn't want to come. Billy finally wheeled himself to his son's room and pounded on the door, ordering him out. When Jacob finally followed his dad into the living room, he just stood there, stone faced, while Harry groveled. When Harry was done groveling, Jacob still stood there, the very picture of 'stoic Injun'. Inside, of course, he was squealing with joy that his imprint cared enough about him to apologize, much less completely upend a significant part of his life just to accommodate his father.
Seeing no change in Jacob's expression once he'd apologized, Harry'd shrugged. "Again, I'm sorry, Jacob. Since we were supposed to go to lunch today, I brought a few things; if you'll help me carry them in, I'll just be going." He felt his emotions locking down at the thought that he'd destroyed his friendship with the other man, but it wasn't like he was a stranger to being alone. He'd manage, somehow.
Jacob felt the misery coming off his imprint in waves, and couldn't hold the cold mask in place.
"You realize, I'm not the one who caused the problem," he said.
Harry looked down and nodded once.
"You had no reason to blow up at me like that," Jacob went on.
Harry nodded again, not looking up. He made a sound that was suspiciously like a sniffle.
"I still say you don't have to change your plans just to accommodate Dad, but," Jacob raised one hand, cutting Harry off as the Brit's head snapped up, his eyes flashing. "I think Dad's flattered that you'd do it. I know I am." He stared into emerald eyes and watched the torrent of emotions dancing there. "If you ever blow up at me like that again, I'm going to throw you off a cliff into the ocean to cool you off. Understand?"
Harry nodded, relief beginning to show on his face. "That…sounds fair."
The corners of Jacob's mouth twitched. "In fact, I think I'm going to throw you off a cliff later today, anyway. We haven't gone cliff diving yet, and that's just a damned shame."
Harry shook his head at the non sequitur. "I…I've never been cliff diving," he said, a bit anxiously. "Is it safe?"
A huge grin spread across Jacob's face. "Not at all, especially since I'm going to see just how far I can throw your scrawny butt out to sea. Who knows, I might be able to hit Japan."
Harry sagged in relief. "Prat."
"Idiot. Now, you made me miss lunch. What'd you bring?" Trust Jacob to not forget the mention of food, Billy thought, very pleased at both Harry's apology and Jacob's reaction to it.
Harry's 'few things' turned out to be enough food for Hannibal and his elephants, which was fortunate because just as he and Jacob began carrying it into Billy's house, several of the Pack showed up. Consequently, Harry's introduction to the Pack was a rousing success, but no leftovers remained afterwards. The young wizard didn't seem surprised by the appetites of Paul, Quil and Embry, but did make a comment that "pity Ron's not here to show you what a real trencherman can do". Everyone else claimed not to believe Harry's story that his school friend could out-eat them, but it was good for a round of laughs. And, Harry took their ribbing about him being 'Jacob's new boyfriend' well, despite blushing to the tips of his ears as he made the expected pro-forma denials. His shot back asking "so, which of you is Jacob's ex, and which of you are dating him now?" got several rolls thrown at him.
Everyone was impressed that Harry managed to catch every one and fire them back at their throwers. Noticing the looks he was getting, Harry just shrugged and said "cricket". Since none of the Quileutes understood the game at all (neither did Harry, but he'd learned that everyone assumed he did, which made bluffing his way around the issue very easy), no one said anything else about it.
Probably the best thing to come out of that day, besides the relationships Harry was building, was Billy's interest in Harry's remodeling plans. Stating that nobody really understood what it was like to be in a wheelchair until they were actually stuck there, Billy asked Harry if he could go over whatever plans Harry was considering.
"No, you can't go over them," Harry said smugly, enjoying the shocked looks. "You're coming with me to the architect, and you'll tell me what's a good idea and what's total rubbish." He arched one eyebrow and channeled Draco Malfoy for just a bit. "I see no reason not to avail myself of your expert services. I'll expect a bill for the consultancy, of course." Harry sniffed in his best upper-class twit manner and went back to his lunch, pointedly ignoring the hoots and catcalls about 'Lord Potter', 'yes, m'Lord' and 'oooh, listen to him'.
As it turned out, Billy knew of another contractor who would be more than willing to work with Harry (and take his money). Since this man was a Quileute himself, having Billy vouch for Harry would take care of any difficulties that might arise. Since Harry was throwing his money around for the benefit of one of the tribe's most respected members, no one said much about his obvious wealth.
That Harry's remodeling job poured buckets of money into Quileute pockets was whispered about, but no one dared say anything to Harry, Jacob or Billy…or the rest of the Pack, for that matter. The contractor offered, and Harry readily agreed, to hire the Pack on as construction workers, which gave everyone a bit more pocket money. Sam Uley had initially been reluctant to go along with the idea, but a few words here and there about flexible schedules (there was patrolling to be done) and work hours won him over. He still had his reservations about Jacob's imprint, but he hadn't seen Billy Black so excited in years. Even Charlie Swan, upon meeting Harry, commented on how happy Billy looked.
Harry smiled, shook the Police Chief's hand, said something inconsequential, and went back to planning the best place for an herb garden.
When it was finally done, the old Black house had been transformed. It still had the same basic outward appearance—it was a great hulking Victorian pile of a place with high peaked roofs and a square tower at one corner with an iron-railed widow's walk on the top which several people said looked like it belonged in a horror movie. Harry agreed, but didn't mind. After all, he'd spent several years living in a castle; 'haunted house' comments only made him smile. He'd repainted the outside a warm green with darker green trim, which let it blend into the surrounding trees and he liked much better than the original faded grey. Inside, he'd knocked out walls, opened up the space, and made one huge living room out of the formal parlors and receiving rooms. He'd done much the same with the kitchen and formal dining room, making one huge kitchen, with some of the counters lowered to wheelchair height. He'd left the library intact (there was a secret magically-expanded room hidden behind the wall he'd wanted to knock out, so that was right out) but extended the shelves up to the ceilings.
Upstairs, Harry had agreed to leave the master suite more or less intact, except for the bathroom, which was expanded by sacrificing a small room adjacent to it. Harry wanted a huge shower and a huge tub, so he got both; no questions asked. What started as six guest rooms and a nanny suite became four rooms with en suite baths and an elevator shaft—once again, what Harry wanted, Harry got.
On one side of the house he added a glass solarium, with ready access to the area where he built a small greenhouse. He had ideas about growing fresh vegetables and herbs, with the idea that all that gardening experience from Privet Drive would finally be useful, even enjoyable when he was doing it because he wanted to rather than being forced. Worst-case scenario, Harry knew a world-class Herbologist; Neville was only a series of portkeys away.
On the other side of the house, just off the library, Harry added a study and additional large room. He didn't know what he would do with the second room, but he didn't want a large study, and that wing needed extra space because of the expansion of the floor above. He thought briefly about making it into a potions lab, but even with the Half-Blood Prince's help he'd only been an adequate brewer.
Lastly, he'd made sure that every entrance had a convenient ramp, and connected a new three-car garage and workroom to the house by covered walkways. He'd allowed the architect free reign over the design of the back deck—he suspected that Jacob had made a few 'suggestions', which he realized he liked a great deal—so he had a huge open area with what amounted to a second outdoor kitchen with a grill the size of a Quidditch pitch and a redwood hot tub off to one side. He wasn't stupid enough to think the space would go unused—he'd have to have been deaf to miss the comments the Pack made while they were building it; about how much fun they were going to have at 'their' new house.
Harry found himself having the odd thought or two about sharing the hot tub with Jacob…just Jacob…and not at all minding those thoughts in the least. He told himself that he didn't really know what might happen when it was just the two of them, but then again, he'd always been good at lying to himself.
Like every remodeling job, there were times when Harry wanted to tear his hair out, or kill (at various times) the contractor, Billy, Jacob, Paul, Quil, Embry, Sam, Seth, Leah (especially Leah, who had a positive gift for going directly to Harry's last nerve…a phrase he'd learned because of Leah) and himself…but Jacob had the solution to that well in hand. Harry'd only had to be bodily dragged down to the cliffs and tossed in the Pacific, fully clothed, three times before the remodeling was over.
Granted, the third time was purely gratuitous, but since Harry rather enjoyed the sensation of flying from Jacob's arms out to sea, he didn't really mind.
Later, Jacob would realize that Harry could have stopped him at any time, but didn't. The realization left him feeling warm and fuzzy inside for the rest of that day.
The 'House is Finally Done' party was an epic blowout, and was still going the next morning when the sun came up. Harry'd managed to pass off several cases of butterbeer as 'a British drink'—true as far as it went, and not likely to be disputed—and had laid in more food than a Hogwarts Welcoming Feast. The only sour note came when Chief Swan and his daughter Bella dropped by. Harry knew that Jacob and Bella had been something of an item, but he wasn't prepared for the poisonous glares she kept giving him. He also didn't really understand the sheer contempt Jacob seemed to have for her new boyfriend, but was too busy playing host (and missing Winky's help) to ask Jacob about it. Fortunately, the rude, clumsy hag hadn't stayed long, and the party hadn't suffered (much) from the wet blanket she'd tried to throw over it. He did manage to tell Billy that Chief Swan was always welcome, since he was Billy's friend. Billy picked up on the unspoken 'but not Bella', and assured Harry that he'd pass that word along.
Harry did manage to get into his swim trunks before Jacob and Embry unceremoniously dunked him in the hot tub, but it was a near thing. He'd been dreading the party, mostly due to the stress of the remodel, but found himself having more fun that he'd ever imagined. That Jacob always seemed to be nearby, and the two of them were constantly sharing looks, was starting to seem incredibly natural to him.
Shortly after dawn, when Jacob pulled Harry down onto the couch in the living room with him, Harry let himself be positioned on top of his friend with only a token protest.
"I'll crush you," he muttered, shifting into a comfortable position.
Jacob snorted. "What is it you say? Not bloody likely."
"Prat. Next you'll be wanting me to make you fish and chips."
Jacob shifted himself, tucking his imprint's head into the hollow of his shoulder. "Only if you let me eat them with ketchup. Vinegar and salt is just nasty."
"Vinegar and salt is the only proper way to eat them, barbarian," Harry murmured. He had a fleeting thought about how this might look to some, but he was totally exhausted, and Jacob was so warm and comfortable to lie on….
Much later that morning, Billy Black came down from the room he'd claimed the night before to see Harry Potter cradled on top of his son, both of them sound asleep and drooling on each other.
Smiling, he shook his head and quietly made his way to the kitchen to see if the ravening horde had left anything he could call breakfast.
Once his house was finally—FINALLY!—done, Harry had enough time on his hands to realize he'd been putting off something for far too long. He needed to have a talk with Jacob about how he felt…just as soon as he figured out just what his feelings were. Since the only things that even came close were his experiences with Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley, he didn't really have much to go on. Oh, there'd been the usual sneering banter about 'shirt lifters' and 'poofters' in the Gryffindor dorms late at night, but he'd never imagined that he'd feel 'that way' about another man.
He'd gotten used to the sensations whenever he and Jacob touched skin to skin. It was still enjoyable, very much so, but it had blessedly diminished to the point where he could still function normally, and didn't flinch (much) any more. That he'd slept better on top of Jacob on his couch than in any bed he'd ever had both excited and worried him. He was also at a loss to explain why his magical core absolutely purred—there was no other word for it—whenever the big Quileute was around. It didn't do that for any of the other members of what Jacob called 'the Pack'. Harry'd questioned the term when Jacob let it slip out, only to wonder why Jacob hemmed and hawed about it before rapidly changing the subject. Neither Paul nor Embry batted an eye when Harry started referring to them as 'the Pack', usually with a laughing comment about them raiding his larder. At least they were good about coming with to the market, and somebody had started talking about Lord Harry and His Faithful Sherpas; it had become a running joke with them.
Harry trotted out the upper-class twit voice a time or two to remind a local "one never goes on safari without one's native bearers, don't you know". The 'someone holding a turd under your nose' look (a Petunia Dursley special) and sniff that went with it never failed to make people smile. That the Pack went along by 'salaam-ing' to 'Lord Harry' didn't hurt. That Harry never bought just a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk didn't hurt, either. He was feeding the Pack several meals a week, after all.
Harry did wonder about those times when one of the other boys would get close to him, or roughhouse him—his hair was a favorite target for mussing—and Jacob would growl, making the other boy back away quickly. Part of Harry liked the possessive streak Jacob had for him. Part of him…well, he was Harry Potter, and things he didn't understand tended to be bad for him.
Finally, Harry was going spare with worry that Jacob would find out about magic. He'd been able to downplay his strange choice in words as 'just a British thing, plus I read a lot of fantasy growing up'. That he'd gotten quite good at silent, wandless magic had also been a tremendous help; he always had a wand on his person at all times ('Constant Vigilance!') but his disillusioned holster was guaranteed to be 'undetectable by any means'. Granted, Harry knew at least four different ways to detect it, but Jacob wasn't a wizard, so that wasn't an issue.
The absolute worst, most horrible, terrifying, agonizing thing was…Harry wanted to tell him. Not just about magic, which would probably get him a quick trip to whatever the Amis used in place of Azkaban, but also…that Harry was crushing on the big Quileute in major way, and it was about to drive him insane. Had Jacob been an arse, it would have been much easier, but no! Jacob was kind, smart, funny, considerate, easy on the eyes (that particular admission hadn't come easy) and easy to love.
Yeah. Love. Therein lay the problem. Harry Potter, wizard, had fallen in love with Jacob Black, muggle man.
Harry went through a very bad few hours—Jacob was busy doing Pack things, whatever that meant—when he realized he was falling in love with another man. He'd only come out of it when he realized that despite his feelings, he could never, ever tell Jacob how he felt. He valued their friendship too much to ever risk loosing it, and he was sure Jacob would never speak to him again if he found out.
A phrase Vernon had been fond of using came to mind: stiff upper lip. Well, Harry had survived worse. He'd muddle through somehow, Merlin only knew how, but he'd do it.
Since the universe frequently does things in pairs, Jacob Black was having much the same conversation with himself. He knew sooner or later he'd have to tell Harry about the imprint, and what it meant. He also fully expected Harry to run screaming back to England, where he couldn't follow, leaving Jacob to find a cave, crawl in it and die. He kept telling himself it wasn't because Harry was a man; he'd reconciled himself to the fact that he'd imprinted on a male, for some unknown reason. What really worried Jacob was how Harry would react to finding out that the two of them were mystically bonded, and that he spent a lot of his time on four legs, running around the woods and killing vampires.
He'd played the movie of that conversation in his head a thousand times.
"Let me get this straight," Harry would say. "You're a shape-shifter who becomes a wolf the size of a horse anytime you want to, not just on the full moon, and you do this because vampires are real and you and your Pack protect your tribe from them. But, there is a family of veggie vampires living right here in Forks that you don't kill, but they can't come on your lands and you can't go on theirs. Shape shifters have a magical bond to their one true soul mate to ensure the shifting gene is passed on, but you imprinted on me even though I'm a man."
In his head, Jacob would nod miserably, at which point Harry would either laugh for hours or immediately call for men with butterfly nets and coats with sleeves that buckle in the back to come and take him away for a nice long 'rest'.
Either way, Jacob couldn't see any good outcome to that discussion, so he kept putting it off…and off…and off.
That the Pack was in his head every time he shifted wasn't helping matters any. Sam had already told him more than once to man up and tell Harry, but between the guys ribbing him and Leah's bitching, Jacob just couldn't do it.
It was going to be horrible. He'd better start looking for a Jacob-sized cave.
Harry threw down his pen—sod quills, a good biro was the way to go, stupid backwards wizards and their damned quills—and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He knew what he needed, and by Merlin he was going to do it!
Harry doffed a black leather duster that he'd picked up in Forks. He'd loved the coat from the first moment he saw it, and justified the purchase because you could never have too many raincoats in Forks. Actually, he'd loved the way it moved when he did, and the slit up the back let the bottom swirl almost like a robe.
He'd charmed a grandfather clock with a secret space in back, and that was where he'd taken to hiding his broom. He hadn't been able to make himself buy another Firebolt. Sirius had given him his Firebolt, and that had been special. Instead, he'd bought a Nimbus 2001, knowing it wasn't quite as fast as the Firebolt. He'd been quite surprised to find out that what the Nimbus lacked in speed it more than made up for in agility. It had taken Harry an hour or so to really get used to the thing, but he'd begun to like the way it flew even better than the Firebolt.
He'd taken it with him when he spent two weeks in Bulgaria, hanging out with Victor Krum. Krum had showed him a few professional tricks "for vhen you play for England, against me", including how to push his own magic into the broom to increase its performance. Doing that was hard on the charms—most professionals cycled brooms every couple of years—but Harry being Harry, he could make the Nimbus do things his Firebolt couldn't dream of doing, and with virtually the same top speed on the straightaway.
Victor, aspiring broom designer that he was, had strengthened the charms on Harry's broom, and laid a few more 'secret' ones on it.
Harry hadn't even had to swear a magical oath to wheedle those charms out of Victor...but he might have promised an endorsement or two, in exchange for a future production model Krum broom.
Stepping out into the drizzle and completely ignoring it, Harry disillusioned himself and pushed off. His house was isolated enough that no one should have seen him, but erring on the side of caution had become second nature to one Harry J. Potter.
He'd taken off heading roughly southwest, intending to fly down the coast for a bit. He didn't really want to overfly the inhabited parts of the Rez, and hoped that some time over the ocean would clear his head. He'd been in the air for several minutes when he felt something…odd. His magic was reacting to something just ahead and to his left, and since he had nothing better to do, he changed course and increased his speed.
He didn't have a name for the sense he was using to find what he was looking for; magic really didn't have a 'smell', but that was close enough. It didn't take him long to find a clearing in the forest below. Looking down, what he saw made his blood run cold.
Jacob, Paul and Quil were on patrol, and Jacob was about two seconds away from ripping Paul's throat out if he didn't shut up about Jacob and Harry making sweet love together. Not that Jacob didn't want to make sweet love with Harry Potter, but having those two idiots go on and on and on about it was getting on his nerves.
He was just about to think something really nasty back at them, when his nose twitched. He smelled leech. The cloying, sickly-sweet smell of vampire drifted down from the trees. Obviously, some bloodsucker had used the trees to pass through the area recently.
The trio of wolves spread out, and within moments located what seemed like the leach's direction of travel. Growling, the wolves began running, following the scent as best they could. They burst out of the woods into a sizable clearing, where they saw their quarry for the first time. The vampire noticed them immediately, spinning and hissing at them angrily. The wolves charged, and the vampire stood there ready to meet them. Then, the world exploded.
Harry pushed a bit more power into the Nimbus and felt it respond like the magnificent piece of craftsmanship it was. He was starting to feel two different sources of magic now, and both were moving away from him rapidly. The furthest one was the one he'd first noticed, and the more he tried to identify it, the more 'wrong' it seemed. The other, closer source 'tasted' better, familiar to him; Harry had the sense that it belonged in the forest while the first did not.
He was almost on top of whatever it…they…were when he came to a clearing. Looking down, he saw three huge wolves burst from the tree line, charging towards a lone figure that spun to face them.
Without conscious thought, Harry's wand was in his hand, an overpowered Confringo sending the wolves tumbling. Dropping his disillusionment and leaning forward, Harry pushed the Nimbus so hard the twigs crackled, diving with the intention of doing a 'scoop and scoot'—grabbing the person and being away before the wolves could recover.
What he didn't expect was for a pale hand to reach out, grab his broom, and send him arse over teakettle across the clearing.
Instinctively, Harry ducked and rolled, protecting himself enough that he was only battered and bruised when he landed. Coming to his feet as quickly as he could, he reached out his hand and willed his wand into it. The satisfying slap of wood against palm and the sight of his (thank Merlin!) still-intact wand was exactly what he needed to focus on what had just happened to him.
Super-human speed and strength, enough to catch a professional racing broom moving at top speed and then hold it immobile. Pale skin and red eyes. Granted, it was daylight, but….
"What is this?" the figure was saying. Harry noticed distantly that it was a man. "Wolves I expected, but a little boy that flies on a broom like a witch? Are you a witch, little boy?" The voice was light, mocking.
Harry shrugged. The list of things that fit what he'd seen read vampire, vampire, vampire…and everything else. The man's next words confirmed it.
"I've never eaten a witch before. I wonder how you'll taste?"
"Sectumsempra!" Harry's wand was moving the instant he heard 'taste'. The shouted curse hit the vampire with a sound like a chisel hitting granite, and the spell knocked it back nearly a dozen feet.
"Oh, I felt that, little witch-boy! You'll pay for that," the vampire said, and began to blur towards Harry.
Harry fully expected his spell to gut the vampire like a fish, and was shocked when it didn't. He didn't let it slow him down, which is probably the only reason he survived.
"Deprimo! DEPRIMO! BOMBARDO!" he shouted rapidly, putting more magical strength into each successive spell.
In retrospect, Harry realized he'd probably overdone it, but at the time he'd been running on pure adrenaline. His first spell, rather than blowing a hole through the creature's chest, stopped it in its tracks. The second spell blew it into large chunks, and the last one—cast with the full power of a wizard some said rivaled Dumbledore or Merlin himself—turned the chunks into a cloud of fine powder.
Harry didn't wait to watch the dust cloud settle. Putting out his hand, he summoned his Nimbus silently, and was relieved to see that he hadn't blown it up along with the vampire. He thought he'd seen the thing drop his broom when it charged him, but he'd been too intent on not getting eaten to protect a replaceable broom. Distantly he was remembering something Hermione had told him about the different types of vampires, but he'd worry about that once he was safely away. He hadn't forgotten about those huge wolves, and wasn't in the mood to be eaten by them, either.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw them moving closer, and had his leg over the Nimbus in preparation for beating a hasty retreat when he heard a familiar voice.
"Harry? Wait! How did you…?"
Not believing what he was hearing, Harry looked over his shoulder at a very naked Jacob Black, flanked by two wolves.
"Oh, bugger," Harry said.
Jacob had no idea what the vampire had done to throw the wolves around like rag dolls, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from tearing the leech apart. A little mindless violence was just what he needed, and if it meant one less leech in the world, that was even better. He felt a chill when he saw the slight figure stand up in front of the bloodsucker; he shot a thought at Paul and Quil to be careful with the human when….
Jacob, that's Harry! Quil's amazement shot through the three of them. Recognizing his imprint, Jacob gathered himself to leap between Harry and the vampire, even though part of him knew he'd never make it. Then, Harry pointed a stick at the undead thing and shouted…and the vampire was knocked backwards.
"I felt that, little witch-boy! You'll pay for that!" Jacob heard the vampire clearly, and saw it start to blur forward…Harry was shouting again…and the vampire stopped, then exploded into a fine powder with the sound of a hundred concrete blocks all shattering at once.
Jacob and his friends were frozen in shock as Harry shook himself, then put out his hand. An old-fashioned broom rose up from where the vamp had dropped it to fly into Harry's outstretched hand, and Harry threw one leg over it like he was going to ride it into the sky.
Without thinking, Jacob shifted to his human form.
"Harry? Wait! How did you…?" He had a thousand questions he wanted, needed to ask, but he froze in place when emerald eyes met his.
"Oh, bugger."
Turning in place without dismounting his broom, Harry turned to look at a very shocked, very naked Jacob Black. Well, there's no doubt he's a boy Harry's inner smartarse said, and Harry very much agreed. Oh, no, that Jacob was male was verifiably evident. And it's a cool day the little smartarse voice said, and once again Harry was forced to agree. Sweet Merlin! Impressive though the view was, Harry was still hyped on adrenaline, and there were two huge wolves flanking Jacob. He didn't know how his friend had suddenly appeared, but they weren't out of danger yet.
"Jacob, I want you to walk slowly toward me," Harry said carefully. "Don't make any sudden moves, just come here." He'd briefly made eye contact with the Quileute, but quickly looked away…and now was focusing on the wolves that were just looking at him. Carefully, he brought his wand up, just in case.
"Harry, are you hurt?" Jacob didn't even try to disobey his imprint's commands, since what he wanted more than anything was to run to Harry and check him to reassure himself that the slight figure was uninjured. He'd worry about the rest of the world after he knew Harry was okay.
"Jacob, slowly. Don't spook them." Harry's voice was soft, anxious. "I don't want to hurt them, but if they attack I won't have any choice."
Confused, Jacob looked back over his shoulder. What was Harry talking about? All he saw was Quil and Paul. Granted, Paul was snarling—that was normal for him—but Quil's tongue was hanging out, and he was laughing.
Harry's hissed words cut through his confusion. "Jacob! Get over here! One of them is about to attack!" Jacob was close enough now to see that Harry was vibrating with fear and anger, and he suddenly realized just whom Harry thought was about to attack.
"No, Harry…they won't attack; it's fine." Turning, Jacob snarled at his Packmates. "Stop scaring him! Back off!" Quil bobbed his head and retreated a step, still laughing. Paul also retreated half a step, but only growled louder.
Jacob turned his back on the pair, ignoring them. "Harry, it's okay, really. It's just Quil, and Paul being a jerk," he said, trying to soothe his keyed-up imprint. "What did you do to that vampire? I've never seen…."
"Those wolves are who?" Harry's near-screech interrupted Jacob's question. Shock was immediately replaced by confusion, which quickly morphed into furious concentration. Harry's gaze unfocused and he began muttering to himself as he worked it out.
"Can't be werewolves, not in broad daylight. Must be…." Harry looked up, livid. "Why didn't you tell me you were animagi?" he demanded. He didn't know whether to be furious or deeply hurt that Jacob hadn't just told him he was a wizard. Surely he'd slipped up enough that the other young man should have figured it out…all the grief he'd been putting himself through, worrying about telling his friend about magic, and the git already knew!
"What's an…ani-what did you call it?" Jacob asked, even more confused by the emotions that were coming off Harry in waves than by his question.
"You know…plural of animagus," Harry snapped. "Why didn't you tell me you were a wizard, too?"
"Wizard? Harry, I'm not…wait a minute! You're a witch! The leech said so!" Jacob pointed at finger at Harry and grinned. "That is so cool! So, you really can fly on that broom? Can I try it? Will it work for me? Is that your wand? Can I…."
"I'm not a witch! Are you telling me you're not a wizard?" Harry face-palmed with his wand still in hand. "Oh, Morgana, I am in sooooo much trouble!" he moaned.
"Wha…? Harry, you're not in trouble. All you did was kill a leech! Nobody cares about that! Hell, the Elders will probably make you an honorary member of the tribe when they find out."
"No! Nobody can find out! They'll send me to wherever the Amis use instead of Azkaban!" Harry yelped.
Jacob shook his head. "Who'll send you away?" he asked. Then, "nobody's taking you away from me. They'll have to go through the entire Pack first," he finished grimly.
Harry just shook his head. "You don't understand. The Ami Aurors, or whatever they call them, will know I just violated the Statues of Secrecy. They'll come for me, and they'll Obliviate you three; probably to the point that you'll never even remember I existed." Then, he realized that Jacob was standing right there, and was still naked. "Oh, and could you put something on? Here," he said, conjuring a fluffy white bathrobe and handing it to Jacob.
"You just pulled this out of thin air! That is so cool!" Jacob grinned, then turned and threw on the robe. Belatedly, he remembered the shorts he had tied to his leg before beginning the patrol. "Just a sec," he said, bending down to retrieve them, then pulling them on under the robe.
Harry caught a glimpse of Jacob's muscled backside when he turned, and blushed to the tips of his ears when he realized that he liked the sight very much indeed. He was still blushing when Jacob turned back around, and it only got worse when Jacob grinned. Yes, the tall Quileute had noticed the blush.
"So…when do I get to ride your broomstick?" Jacob's smirk was just short of a leer, and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Prat!" Harry laughed despite himself, and swatted the much bigger man. "Ow! You're like hitting a brick wall!" he said, shaking his injured hand.
"Serves you right," Jacob laughed out loud. His imprint was a wizard! Who else could say that? The rest of the Pack could just bite him right now, his imprint was a broom riding, stick waving—wait a sec, that had to be his magic wand! –wand-waving, wizard! "Show me some magic!" he demanded.
"No," Harry sighed, resigned to his fate. "I don't want to make it worse. Maybe if I don't do anything else, I can say it was self-defense or something, and you three will be the only ones who know."
Now Jacob was confused again, despite his elation at his discovery. "No, the whole Pack; well, those who were shifted, anyway, they know already. Paul and Quil saw what you did; they're already talking about it," he said, not realizing that he'd not really explained the Pack's shared minds. "The rest of them will know as soon as one of the others tell them."
"Jacob, please, no! I don't want a team of Obliviators to show up and wipe the memories of the whole tribe! You've got to stop them!" Harry gasped. What had he done? Not even having killed the most evil Dark Lord in recent memory would protect him from a violation of the Statues this big. "They can't know!" he screamed, his adrenaline spiking once more.
"Harry, only the Pack will know, and we have to keep it secret, too." Jacob reached out and pulled his hysterical imprint into his arms. "We'll protect you and your secret, just like we protect ours. Nobody's going to take you away from me. I won't let them, and Sam won't let them, either."
"Suh…Sam?" Harry's voice was muffled by the robe he was sobbing into.
"Sam's the Pack Alpha," Jacob explained, soothingly. "He's like…the boss."
"I know what a werewolf pack alpha is," Harry sniffed. "I'm not totally stupid." He was, however, angry with himself for crying like a little kid in Jacob's arms. At the same time, he was in absolutely no hurry to leave the warm, comfortable embrace.
"Werewolves aren't real," Jacob said, then stopped. He could turn into a wolf, and did so to fight vampires. His imprint was a wizard who (he thought) flew on a broom and used a magic wand. So, why not werewolves? And, what else was out there that he'd never thought about?
"Shows what you know," Harry answered him from where his head was pressed against Jacob's chest—a position Jacob highly approved, and might let Harry leave in a few decades. "One of my best professors was a werewolf."
Jacob didn't say anything, just kept holding and stroking his imprint's back while he processed that. Harry'd been extremely vague about where he'd gone to school, only saying that it was a 'boarding school in Scotland'. Well, if it was a magic school, then having a werewolf for a professor probably wasn't that unusual. Jacob found his thoughts drifting, wondering just what a magic school would be like and how hard he'd have to beg to get to see it….
Paul, human again (and thank Merlin! Wearing shorts—Harry peeked), came up, still growling.
"Quil's gone back to tell Sam," he snarled. Then, begrudgingly, his voice softened. "Did you really dust that leech?"
Harry pulled back slightly, liking the pressure of Jacob's arms as they tried to hold him close. "Yes, I did. I thought it was some poor helpless muggle, about to be eaten by a horde of rabid wolves," he snapped. "I was right about everything but the muggle part, wasn't I?"
Paul ignored Jacob's protest of 'I don't have rabies' and nodded. "Yeah. We kill leeches. It's what we do." Despite being taller than Harry, Paul found the smaller man refusing to break his eye contact.
"And I kill Dark wizards," Harry shot back. "It's what I do. Dark creatures, too. Don't make me put you on the list," he said coldly.
Paul just snorted. "I'd like to see you try," he said, then backed up when a stick suddenly appeared between his eyes.
"You wouldn't see it," Harry hissed. "Now, back off!" Paul saw the wand tip jerk slightly, and then he was tumbling back across the grass. He'd just started to come to his feet, intending to break the little jerk in half, when suddenly…he couldn't move!
Paul began to panic as he half-crouched, frozen, while the puny little Brit walked over to him casually. The messy-haired kid had laid down what looked like a broom—and how stupid was that? –and was twirling his stick between his fingers casually. He could see Jacob standing back, arms crossed, watching what he obviously saw as a dominance game being played out, so there'd be no help from Black. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but as soon as he could move again, that little boy was going to know what real hurt was….
"Right now, you're probably thinking about how badly you're going to hurt me when the paralysis wears off," the green-eyed punk was saying. He might have been discussing the weather, for all he sounded like he cared. Then, he leaned down and looked directly into Paul's eyes, and Paul started to be afraid as Harry hissed, "Guess what? It doesn't wear off. I can leave you here until this time next year if I want. And, if you ever threaten me or Jacob again, I will."
Paul did manage to blink at that. Did the kid know about the imprint? Was that why he was so protective of Black?
Harry was speaking again, his voice low and dangerous. "What you don't know, puppy," he said, making the term an insult, "is that I banished my first Dark Lord when I was just a toddler. When I was eleven, I dealt with a Cerberus—that's a three-headed dog bigger than you," he sneered for emphasis, "then fought a grown wizard who was possessed by that Dark Lord's spirit. When I was twelve I killed a sixty-foot basilisk with a sword—that's a snake that can kill you with its gaze, by the way." Harry went to one knee, which put him at eye level with Paul without having to bend over. "I've faced dragons, and spiders the size of a small house, and werewolves—one of whom was the father of my godson, and a good friend—and trolls, and giants, and what you call zombies, and a wizard so evil he split his soul into seven pieces, just so he could live forever. I killed him, because among other things, I'm the Master of sodding Death! So if you think you scare me, you'd better think again, because you don't. Yes, I also have a 'saving people' thing; I didn't know there were any other magical creatures around here. When I saw what looked like a muggle about to be killed by wolves, I tried to rescue him. If I'd known what was what…." Harry sighed. "I still don't know what the bloody hell is going on around here, and telling you this won't matter anyway, because it'll all be Oblivated out of your thick skull, but I hope you remember this: Do. Not. Mess. With. Me. Now, I'm about to remove the spell. Do we dance, or can we start over?"
With that, Paul collapsed, his body free to move once again. He looked up, to see a smiling Harry Potter standing over him, hand extended.
"Hi, I'm Harry Potter! Need a hand?" the boy asked cheerfully.
Not trusting himself to speak, Paul only nodded and took the offered hand. Once on his feet, he gave it a shake, and couldn't help but return Harry's radiant smile with a small one of his own.
They'd wound up racing back to Jacob's house, and the wolves discovered (somewhat to their chagrin) that Harry's broom was faster than they were. Of course, Harry explained that he was a very good flier (Jacob wondered briefly if there wasn't anything his imprint couldn't or hadn't done) and his broom was a top of the line racing model. That led to several amusing moments as most of the Pack wanted to try it themselves—apparently shifters didn't have the right kind of magical core to use a broom's enchantments, no matter how hard they jumped with it between their legs—then to Harry giving rides to first Jacob, then Quil, then Seth before Sam arrived to put a stop to the fun.
Seth had pouted when he hadn't been the first to ride with Harry, but the others just laughed at him. As if Jacob would let anyone else be the first behind his imprint on that tiny little broom!
Sam, despite Harry's offer of his own ride, immediately dragged the entire Pack to his house, where Billy Black was already waiting for them. Sam reasoned that, since Harry was worried about the potential fallout from the afternoon, Billy needed to be there as a representative of the Elders. The Alpha was worried about what little he'd learned about the possibility of wizards coming and erasing the memories of the Pack, and knew that Billy could not only keep a secret but was also influential enough to rally the Tribe to protect Harry if that became necessary.
Despite most of the Pack having shifted to 'see' the afternoon directly, Sam insisted that Billy be given a complete description of what had happened, from everyone's viewpoint. Once Harry, then Jacob, then Quil and Paul had finished (Harry, Jacob and Paul didn't mention the little 'conversation' Harry and Paul had after Quil left, but the Pack already knew, and were looking at Harry in a new light), Billy just leaned back, harrumphed, and sat there silently, looking at Harry.
Finally, Harry couldn't take it any more. "I'm sorry, Billy. I never meant to bring this trouble to your doorstep. I'll be gone by this time tomorrow."
Jacob's yelp of dismay was cut off as Paul and Embry pulled him back down into his seat. Everyone else wanted to hear Billy's response.
"Why?" was all the Elder asked, looking directly into Harry's eyes.
"Why?" Harry repeated. "Because, if I leave, then maybe the Amis won't bother you, and the Pack's secret will be safe," he sighed. "I don't know where I'll go…Australia, maybe…but I won't endanger you or the Tribe. No, it's just better if I disappear again," he finished.
Only Embry's hand over his mouth kept Jacob from yelling, and despite several pairs of hands on him he almost came out of his chair. He didn't realize what his father was saying until Paul hissed into his ear to shut up and listen.
"…So if killing a leech is all you're worried about, don't be," Billy said, waving the issue away. "That some of our men, and now women," he nodded at a scowling Leah, "have the ability to shift is because they're our protectors from the Cold Ones. You killed the vampire on Tribal lands, right?" he asked, and nodded when Paul and Quil confirmed it. Jacob was just sitting there, being held back and muted, glaring at his father and imprint. "Tribe land, tribe law. No one else has any say over what happens there, and none of the Elders will be anything but grateful to have another protector watching over the Tribe." He shrugged, then grinned. "I do think we need to have a long talk about this magic of yours, and you need to know about our secrets, too."
"I…don't know how the American magical government will react to that," Harry admitted carefully. "I really haven't had any contact with them, other than when I entered the country."
Billy nodded. "There's another story there, but it can wait a few days, I'm thinking. In the meantime, I'm hungry! Who's cooking?"
Harry shrugged, uncaring, as he pulled out his wallet. "Why don't we send someone for take-away?" he asked, taking a handful of bills out. "Who wants to go?" he asked, knowing that Jacob probably wouldn't volunteer.
"I'll go," Brady stood up and strode over to Harry. Looking down, he shook himself when he saw the numbers on the bills Harry was trying to hand him. "Harry? All this?" he protested.
Harry grinned and shrugged. "I know how you lot eat. I think Billy and I would like some, too, without having to fight you beasts for a sandwich," he joked, pressing the wad into Brady's hands. "Inheritance, remember? Spend it all; we can always cold box the leftovers".
Grinning, Brady vanished out the door, a confirmed member of the Harry Potter Fan Club.
"Now, there's something else we need to discuss, Harry," Billy said sternly. Harry nodded and moved to sit down in front of Jacob, who immediately wrapped his arms around the smaller man, shrugging off the hands that had been restraining him.
"The American Ministry, except they call it a 'Department'," Harry nodded. He leaned back into Jacob's warm strength, determined to enjoy it as long as he could.
Billy nodded once to show he heard. "Regardless of what 'they' call it, this is a Reservation. By treaty and law, this is Quileute land, and the regular American government is very limited in the authority they have here."
"I really don't know if the Amis will respect that or not," Harry said, so intent on Billy that he didn't notice the stiffening of various bodies around the room. "The Ministry in Britain wouldn't give a fig; they'd come in, do what they thought was needed, and Obliviate any muggles that stood in their way. Of course, they'd also probably label the Pack 'dark creatures'," he made the quote marks in the air with his fingers. "And at the very least, make you all register with the Ministry. British wizards aren't very tolerant of creatures," he explained, shaking his head at the stupidity of his homeland's Ministry.
"We kill dark creatures! We're not dark ourselves!" was the general tenor of the outbursts following Harry's statement.
"The Ministry wouldn't care," Harry shrugged and look up at Jacob. They're idiots like that," he said more softly, smiling up at his friend. Then, Harry looked back at his friend's father. "Like I said, I really don't know what the Ami's policy is."
"I think we need to find out, as soon as possible," Billy said. "Regardless, Harry, I don't want you to worry. Until we get this settled, I don't want you to leave the Reservation for any reason. Understand?"
Harry shrugged. Billy thought that, by keeping him on the Reservation, the Ami Aurors couldn't get to him to arrest him. Harry really didn't want to frighten his friends by telling them that not even the Pack could stop a group of determined wizards, so he kept quiet.
"Leah and I can get your stuff," Seth volunteered, then yelped when Leah punched him. "Ow! What was that for?" he complained.
"I'm not his errand girl," Leah snapped.
"No, but you will help Seth get enough of Harry's things for him to be comfortable on the Rez for a few days," Sam shot back, using just a touch of Alpha voice. "Harry not only killed a vamp today, but he did it because he thought he was protecting an innocent. If we have to protect him for a few days, so be it," he finished. Then, in a more normal voice, he looked at Harry and grinned. "Not that I think he needs much protecting, but until we know what the legal aspects of him being here are, I'm not willing to take any chances."
"You just want him around so you can make him patrol with us," someone laughed.
"Maybe," Sam grinned. "Sue me if I want to have Harry with us the next time we have a leech invasion."
"Wait a minute? You have invasions of vampires?" Harry squeaked. Just what had he gotten himself into? All he wanted was a nice, quiet life; not to be pressed into service as a full-time vampire hunter!
"Only every couple of years," Sam assured him, still grinning. "Oh, and I guess we'll have to teach you which vamps not to kill," he said. "There's this family of 'vegetarian' vamps in Forks that we have a treaty with. Well, we call them 'veggies', but they really eat animals only, not people," he said, and went on to give Harry a brief run-down on the Cullens and their encounters with the Pack.
"Wonderful," Harry said when Sam finished. "And here I thought all I had to worry about was a dragon wandering away from the preserve," he shook his head.
"Dragons!?" "PRESERVE!?" "DRAGONS ARE REAL?!"
Harry spent the next few minutes being forced to explain about dragons, and dragon preserves, and dragon keepers—"You know a dragon keeper?" –and denying that he could arrange tours, and NO! Jacob couldn't have one as a pet, they were dangerous and yes he'd fought one but that was when he was fourteen….
Harry was only saved by the return of Brady, his arms full of bags of burgers, fries, and other completely unhealthy foods…and a sack full of salads for the 'wimps'.
Harry made a mental note to always have food on hand, in case he ever needed to distract a bunch of overly curious and enthusiastic shapeshifters.
A/N: As promised, another chapter. There are almost certainly some discrepancies between this story and 'Obstinate Elders'; this story wasn't even dreamed up with that one was written, and I chose to 'go with the flow' of this story. The two actually occur in adjacent, highly similar but not identical parallel universes, in case you're wondering.
The "Harry and Jacob meet in a laundromat" plot has been done several times, so I used it here, as well. Ditto the Harry/Jacob 'dragon preserve near the Rez'. Yep, I've lost my notes on where I saw ALL those stories, as per usual-if they're yours, PM me and I'll hat tip you next chapter. You should all know me well enough by now to know that's just how it goes.
Reviews are running about one in 8 or 9 for Follows, which is pretty much par for the course. Thanks to all of you who bothered; I'll try to send a reply back as soon as I can. I can either answer emails, or write/edit stuff, not both at once. Reviews do make Plot Bunny happy-he's sitting on the cable box staring at me right now... Please help keep Plot Bunny happy...I'm begging you! *quails in fear under the searing gaze of Plot Bunny*
Next Chapter: Will Harry go to prison for violating the Statues of Secrecy? Can Jacob and the Pack protect him from the wrath of the American Department of Magical Affairs? Will Harry and Jacob ever have "The Imprint Talk"? Will Harry use his awesome magical power to break the imprint bond? Will Harry and Jacob survive to get to the hot smoochies, must less the wedding bells stage? Wouldn't it be a bummer of a story if they didn't? Is this enough with the stupid questions?