A/N: Whoa! That was an incredible response to this. I'm glad that you guys are as excited about this as I am! Keep in mind, especially during this chapter, that this is not going to be a realistic romance. I know realistic romance, and it sucks. Badly. So for real, don't expect it here.
Besides, in my mind they've watched her for years and they knew her when they were all younger, so it's not completely out of the blue! Now, for everyone who has followed and favorited my story, you're awesome! But not as awesome as the reviewers. Wink wink, nudge nudge.
Not going to lie, I spent a long ass time fighting with this, trying to make the beginning of their relationship different, and then I just decided that they were too stubborn to let me. So here you go!
:D Oh, and because I forgot last time…
Disclaimer: I do not own Boondock Saints or Harry Potter. I own my plot, and that's about it.
Siobhan's confident walk came to an immediate halt when she stepped into the room proper. The roar of rowdy drunks seemed to slam into her like a brick wall, causing her to tense up in slight alarm, but a quick glace around showed no serious enmity.
She couldn't help but let her lips quirk into a soft smile as she saw the men around the bar give her granddad shit and him give it right back. One day, she wanted something like that.
She knew that her grandfather was a veteran of a war as well, and it gave her hope that one day she could be just as normal as he was now. Well, preferably without the Tourettes Syndrome, but she'd take what she could get.
But she hadn't come all the way from England just to watch living proof that her grandfather was just as bad ass as she was, even if his mixing and matching of phrases and random swears had her muffling a soft laugh.
To her eternal amusement, it was that soft sound that got their attention, not the loud creak of the door. And when they all turned around to face her, she shifted her glance to her grandda.
"Siobhan?" The old man asked, an almost desperate plea in his eyes. And she nodded silently before laughing softly at his jubilant cursing as he rushed from behind the bar to grab her tight, pulling her close. "I've missed ye, girl."
"I've missed you too grandda," she replied softly as she returned his hug. Even as she did so, she couldn't help but resent her Aunt Petunia a little bit more. Her grandfather should not have had to ask her if she was his granddaughter. He should have seen her enough to know it without even blinking.
"Siobhan Potter?" The incredulous tone had her pulling away a little bit to search out the person who actually knew her. And sure enough, she found him. Well, two 'hims' to be precise.
She laughed in delighted disbelief. "Connor and Murphy MacManus." Of course, she named them both because she actually had no clue which of them was which. She shook her head and stepped fully out of her grandfather's arms, her finely honed instincts buzzing.
"I have to admit, you two grew up well." She noticed that she was falling back into the soft lilt of the accent she had always adored growing up, but she really couldn't bring herself to care about it at the moment.
"Shit girl," one of the snickered, "when did you grow curves?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Probably about the time you grew some balls," she snarked back, suddenly regretting her decision for practical boots. Right now she could use the confidence that four inch heels gave her, but she wouldn't let that stop her.
Besides, she'd always resented the fact that her curves had come in right as the War was getting into full swing. Her newly formed breasts had gotten in her way and had left her off balance more times than she could count.
The only good thing about them was that they distracted the enemy on occasion, although that hadn't been a good thing in Voldemort's dungeon.
"She's got you there Connor," one of the other men sniggered, and she tucked the image of Connor MacManus into her brain for future reference. Of course, she could tell the difference easily, they weren't identical like Fred and George, but she hadn't seen them since she was eight, and they both looked a hell of a lot different than they had then.
The twins stood up, and she couldn't help her pout even as the others grew silent and nervous. "Fucking giants," she grumbled bitterly, and that broke the concerned silence as everyone laughed. The twins weren't any taller than normal, she was simply too short.
At nearly exactly five foot, she had to wear six inch heels to be the average height for a woman, and that still wouldn't have caught her up to their height.
But it sure as hell would have made her feel better.
"Boys, don't fight! M-My granddaughter's back," he paused to allow for his unintentional swearing, "And that's something t' celebrate."
He glanced down at her. "I-I'm surprised t' see you here though. Pet said that you didn't want t' see me again."
Siobhan pursed her lips, and her amused demeanor faded quickly. "Let's talk about that later grandda. For now, why don't you introduce me to your customers?" She would really rather not go into a rant about her Aunt, especially right after forgiving her.
Now that she had realized that her Aunt hadn't simply told him no, but had told him that she didn't want to come, well, forgiveness was going to be a little bit harder to come by now.
She was carefully forcing her voice back to her natural British accent, the reminder of her Aunt Petunia forcing her to put the musical accent of the Irish away, just as the woman forced Siobhan to all those years ago.
Her Aunt hadn't minded it so much, and had actually smiled at her once, but her Uncle hadn't enjoyed it one bit, so it was safer of everyone involved if her Aunt had forced her to do it instead of her Uncle.
That didn't mean that she didn't still resent the woman for it.
"W-Well, you already know the MacManus boys," he offered, and she nodded coolly. Yes, she certainly did. The Saints of South Boston, they were called, according to her sources.
They were on a mission from God to cleanse the place they lived of the evil of humanity. That was something she could get behind, even if they never knew that she knew about them.
Besides, they were obviously still the irritating jackasses that would never leave her alone when she was a kid. Connor's question had proven that quite well, especially since he'd always been the main instigator in their little fights.
Thankfully, they'd never shown an inclination to hit her for fun, unlike Dudley, so their little fights stayed purely verbal.
Her grandfather went on to introduce her to everyone, but the MacManus brothers kept a steady stare at the back of her head even as she chatted away with her grandfather, ignoring his outbursts of swearing with the grace of someone who had spent too many years listening to their relatives spew venom.
And of course, everyone was aware that she was ignoring them, including the brothers themselves. So no one was surprised when the hot tempered Connor made his way over there, a vaguely amused and mildly concerned Murphy following close behind. And looking straight at her grandfather, Siobhan smiled as she felt a hand twine itself into her dark hair.
It was the start of the games from her childhood all over again, but she could already feel the difference.
And her grandfather smiled back, even as he shuddered, because that was Lily's smile all over, and he had seen what his daughter could do to people to upset her. He had no doubt that his granddaughter could do a hell of a lot worse.
"You're ignoring us," Connor pouted playfully from behind her as he pressed himself up against her back.
"Am I?" Siobhan asked, tilting her head back to look up at him with glittering emerald eyes. "It would be rude to ignore everyone else in here in favor of you two," she scolded lightly.
And her grandfather's smile turned into a grin. Even when they were all younger, they had played this game of one-upmanship and mockery. The only difference now was that Siobhan was older and wiser, and she could hold her own now when she couldn't before.
"But I suppose you're right," she continued with a dramatic sigh, turning around slowly to give Connor a chance to unwind his hand from her hair. But he didn't, simply shifting his arm, and she cursed herself in her mind.
'You are not going to sleep with those boys Siobhan,' she scolded herself firmly, even as she felt her body reacting as her eyes darkened at the challenge implicit in Connor's actions.
"Of course we are," Murphy murmured, and something in her eyes flickered when he joined in on the game.
"Of course," she agreed quietly, tilting her head in a way to meant to strain Connor's wrist and force him to break the hold. He did it, just as she had planned, but then Murphy's hand took his place in her hair, and she smiled slightly, even as she panicked inside.
It was incredibly rare for Murphy to participate in their little games, but when he did, he could play. But right now, she wasn't so sure that she wanted him to. Still, she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. So Connor smirked at her smugly, making her quirk an eyebrow at him.
Then she flicked her eyes to Murphy and grinned, deciding to make the best of his participation. "Finally decided to play, huh? Took you long enough," she teased, making him smile slowly.
"Sweetheart, we both know that when I play, I play to win. It wouldn't be fair to ruin your fun too early, now would it?" He asked, casually tightening his grip on her hair.
And then her grandfather broke in. "A-As pleased as I am t' see that my granddaughter will eventually have a good Catholic man, and Irish to boot," he began, stuttering slightly and breaking out into a quick round of swearing, "There will be none o' that going on around me."
And Siobhan flushed. "Sorry grandda," she apologized quietly. She had forgotten that they weren't alone. She had loved those boys as much as her little eight year old heart could, and now all three of them were older, but still the same in the most basic and important ways, and she wanted them.
"Sorry Doc," the boys chorused, and Murphy let his hand out of her hair, running his fingers through it gently.
They both looked rather fascinated by it, and she could understand that. When she was younger she'd had a very boyish cut, courtesy of her Aunt Petunia, and now it was long and thick, styled carefully. But they seemed to like it, and that was more important to Siobhan than she liked.
She would have to be careful around them. For all that they had quickly fallen into old patterns, mostly because they still hated people ignoring them and she had used that to her advantage, she wouldn't risk being hurt by them.
And they weren't what she was here for. It had been far too long since she'd had somebody pay attention to her like that, and it made her body ache in the way that said she was going to be spending some time under the cold spray of a shower.
But she wanted them. And they were Irish-Catholic and intense as all get out and everything that she had ever wanted in a man. Except for the fact that they were twins, and not one man. Which meant that she was screwed. And unfortunately, she didn't mean that literally.
"We need t' be up early for work tomorrow," Murphy commented, glancing over at Connor, who nodded reluctantly.
They both got up and headed towards the door, but Connor paused and glanced back at her with a wicked look. "We'll be seeing you around girl," he said, allowing his dark gaze to tell her exactly what they wanted to be seeing then. And she wasn't exactly opposed to it, because she had cared about those boys when she was younger, and still did.
Once she had been old enough, she had carefully searched them out and had kept an eye on them. Just to make sure that the Death Eaters hadn't found out about her American connections of course, but she had cheered to high heavens when she had heard what they were doing.
Of course, she had been less pleased about who their father was, but if Il Duce could help them on their divine mission, then so be it.
Once her grandfather had chased the rest of the customers out, he sat down beside her with a chuckle. "B-Both o' 'em lass?" He asked, his Irish brogue coming out thicker than ever in his amusement. "Well, I have no complaint. They're fine boys, they are."
Suddenly he laughed again. "But I will say tha' I never saw them react so strong to a woman before. Ye had a hold on those boys before ye left, and ye do again now."
He read the caution on her face correctly and smiled a little bit. "Their ma raised those boys right girl, they won't treat ye badly unless ye do them a bad turn first. An' I don't believe that ye will."
Siobhan smiled, a bit of her fear gone. "I'll try grandda," she said gently. "But we'll see how things work out." And she could not believe how her stomach jumped when she realized that her grandfather was giving her permission. It might not be what she was here for, but it might be exactly what she needed.
"Aye," the older man agreed. "That we will. We'll also be talking about Petunia, an' Voldemort."
She felt all of the color drain from her face. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she tried to reconcile the fact that her grandfather knew about Voldemort, knew about magic, and he was still sitting here with her smiling.
"You know?" She asked lowly, and Doc chuckled.
"S-Siobhan, most o' us here in Southie know it. Those boys especially. They followed you in the papers for years, an' decided that once you came back, you would be theirs."
Siobhan was stunned. They had followed her just as she had followed them. Well, at least she felt less creepy now, she mused, almost numbed by her shock.
He smirked a little bit at her gaping expression, and even his shouted curses sounded amused. "An' they knew ye'd be back. They're smart boys, so ye'd do best to tell them th' truth an' sit back."
She nodded slowly, before choking on air. "Both of them?!" Holy shit. It had just hit her that her grandfather was giving her permission to date two men. At the same time. Twins or not, she couldn't believe that her grandfather was giving her permission.
Her grandfather laughed. "Aye lass, th' both o' 'em. Ye'll find tha' those boys share everything."
Siobhan was stunned. She wouldn't be the center of some messed of display of dominance towards the other brother. If she chose to be in a relationship with them, it would be with the both of them, not choosing between them. Until now, it hadn't hit her like that. Well. That certainly changed things a bit, now didn't it?
"Before we get into all o' that, tell me what it is that Petunia's done now." Her grandfather looked resigned, and Siobhan hesitated.
"Aunt Petunia hasn't been so bad, really," she murmured, tapping a finger on her jean clad thigh nervously. "She's the one who finally told me that you wanted to see me, after all."
"Aye," her grandfather agreed, shouting out some angry curses, "But she should have told ye long before now that I wanted t' see ye."
She sighed. "Yeah, she should have," she agreed tiredly. "But Aunt Petunia and I didn't get along very well, and these last couple of years I wouldn't have dared, not with Voldemort running around. I wouldn't have risked you like that."
Doc grunted, obviously not satisfied with that answer before demanding, "A-And her pig o' a husband?"
"I would really rather not talk about it in too much detail," she admitted reluctantly, knowing that she had just inexplicitly told him that Vernon's treatment had been bad. "But suffice to say that I will never speak to him again. Ever."
Her grandfather obviously wanted to ask more, but he swallowed his questions, although not his curses, and pulled her in for a tight hug. "I'm glad yer here Siobhan," he whispered into her ear, making her smile beautifully.
"I'm glad I'm here too grandda," she murmured back, basking in the warm embrace of someone who loved her unconditionally.
"Give th' boys a chance, lass, and they might just surprise ye." With those last words of wisdom he pulled her up onto her feet and grinned, looking giddy. "C'mon lass, let's go see yer room."
She fought back a gasp as she followed him up the stairs. Her room? He opened a door, and Siobhan Potter fought back tears. "It's perfect," she whispered, looking into what most would consider a typical bedroom.
But considering, not only the fact that she had spent her formative years in a cupboard, but that she had spent so much time in the Dark Lord's dungeons, the slightly small room looked heavenly.
It was the same room that he'd given her when she'd stayed there the last time, but he'd obviously added some more personal touches, giving it a homey feel that she'd never had before. "Thank you."
Her grandfather smiled at her warmly. "Y-Ye're welcome. Now get some sleep. We'll be talking about Voldemort in th' morning."
For the first time in a long time, Siobhan didn't argue or glare and huff. She just nodded, and when the door shut behind her, she cried for what her life might have been like if Dumbledore had placed her with her grandfather instead of Petunia.
When she dreamed that night, she dreamed of a world where her family had stood behind her as she'd been forced to kill a man turned monster, and she smiled. Because even if that would never come to pass, now she had someone in her corner for good. And that meant everything in the world to her.