We'd Be Strangers

Summary (full): Imagine a world in which nothing is not not resolute. Where time can be turned, abused, and used. Where kings and queens hide in secret to our world and their world. A world possessed by a family with the ability to eliminate our decisions, our existence, and our Earth. Turmoil in our world froths, a chosen sovereign coddled in false truths but protected by unseen guardians. A decision to avert a collection of deaths can ultimately lead to the unraveling of both worlds or the gathering of affection connecting each world to another.

Parings; TRM/OC, RB/OC, JP/LE, LM/NB, SB/?, SS/?, RL/OC? - Warnings; this has slash (M/M), a pinch of uncesored language, and a dash of smut.

Author's Note: Hello friends. *wink* I will only repeat myself once, or maybe twice, I do NOT under ANY circumstances own anything that you recognize (well duh this is a fanfic); such as Harry Potter (again on a Harry Potter fanfic), or any refrences to others . . . coming later.

A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Chapter I


Grimauld Place, London, England; August 30, 1978

I stared at the moving sepia picture of my son. My missing son, Regulus. Age 16, and would be going into his 6th year at Hogwarts, if he ever came back. Orion, my husband, believes him to be dead as does everyone else; but I know my baby's alive. He just has to be! His damn brother ran away last year – that ungrateful brat – and got himself disowned for befriending those filthy mudbloods. Now Regulus is the heir of the Ancient House of Black and he is missing! My poor child!


Potter Manor, Ipswich, England; August 30, 1978

"James! Get your arse down here!" I yelled chomping down on a piece of marmalade toast. My best friend walked into the room after stomping down the stairs. He ruffled his messy black hair and grunted, thumbing his glasses up his nose. Dorea, James' mum, smiled at him and motioned toward the heaping pile of steaming sausage, fired eggs, tomato, cheese, toast, and thick strips of bacon. 'Yummm', my stomach gurgled and I reached for a handful of bacon.

James jumped on his chair and started shoveling food into his mouth. "Mornin'," James spewed out threw a mouthful of eggs. I nodded, but Dorea wrinkled her nose and shook her head in disdain.

"Remember your manners, James." She tisked. "Honestly, women, they always complain." I thought. James snorted around his food as if he could hear me.

"Post is here!" Charles Potter called out opening the window for the flying owls. The Potter's family great grey owl, Sloe, James' pygmy owl, Atlantis, and my gorgeous barn owl, Flax, landed in front of their owners respectively; holding The Daily Prophet in their beaks. Flax let go of the newspaper and stole a thick piece of sausage off my plate. I frowned at him but took The Daily Prophet off the cedar counter top.

"Any new news today?" James questioned (without food in his mouth) and leaned over my shoulder. My eyes raked the columns and stopped. Regulus Black Still Missing. I'm sure I looked downcast. My brother Regulus has been missing since we got off the train at the beginning of the summer. I didn't think much of it before but when my parents got involved I started getting worried. At first I had thought he was with his friends and the Dark Lord. But then a realized my parents wouldn't get involved if he was with the Death Eaters. And there was the problem; something seriously bad would have to have happen for my 'parents' to go out in public and ask for help. I love my brother. I mean we, will I, haven't been exactly friendly with him was because he got sorted into the house of slimy snakes and hung out with the Jr. Death Eaters.

Come to think about it, Regulus never called anyone a mudblood or really anything as he didn't talk to anyone else except for Datura. Aislin Thorburn, she would be the only one to know where he is; if she wasn't missing as well. Thorburn would come over to the Grimauld Place and hang out with Regulus for hours. Nobody even knows where she lives so he didn't go to her house. She is our only hope of finding him and she disappeared! Merlin, I wish I could find out where he is!

"Still no news on your brother Sirius?" Charles asked me. I shook my head, my hair falling into my eyes. "No." Dorea sighed and leaned forward on her elbows; palm outstretched and patted my hand. Her cognac eyes sympathetic, she murmured;

"Maybe, before Hogwarts starts he'll be found." I snorted and so did James. "Hogwarts starts in two days mum." I nodded and added, "Yeah, and we leave for Hogwarts tomorrow." She huffed. Charles chuckled.

"Dorea, the boys are right. The probability that he will be found is unlikely." I glanced up. Charles hurried to correct himself. "That is, I mean it is unlikely that we will find Regulus before Hogwarts starts. But us Aurors are trying are best to find him." He leaned forward a mischievous smirk on his face, promising something good. Turns out it was gossip.

"Boys; I heard that there is going to be some type of tournament or something." He wriggled his eyebrows. James' eyes widened with excitement behind his glasses, making his hazel eyes appear ridiculously large. "Really?" He urged. I sloped forward in interest. "Yup. It's about the 7th years but it's not dangerous per say, though I suppose the house rivalry might be."

"What is it?" James and I demanded in unison. Both of our interests were peaked and we really wanted to know what this 'tournament' was about. Even Dorea was curious, as she cocked an ear toward our conversation.

"All the students' names will be placed in a cup – like the Triwizard Tournament – and be given the chance to be selected, with 9 others, and chosen to unify the houses together by living together." Charles affirmed. We slumped back and James and I looked at each other. We burst out laughing.

"That's all!" he wheezed.

"Like that will happen!" I cried. Dorea frowned at us. "Be nice." She scolded. "I'm sure that will be an adventure Charles." He scoffed, "Ohhh, it will be an adventure all right. But that's not all."

"I hope it will be better than 'unifying the houses'." James whispered to me non to quietly.

"A new 7th year student is going to Hogwarts." Charles smirked triumphantly.

"That's strange." Dorea acknowledged. "There has never been a new student at Hogwarts before, especially one as old as a 7th year."

"I wonder what house they will be in." James uttered. I leered at him. "Bet you it's a Hufflepuff,"

"You're on, 5 galleons." He offered his hand. I took it and shook.


Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England; July 4, 1978

Thunder struck the black clouds purple. The wind blew harshly over the trees. Rain swarmed down, creating pools of water. Black coated the air. A child cried, hushed by a quiet coo. The infant yawned, its plumb lips forming an O. Brown-stone house loomed over the horizon. Dark shadows crushed the fluid figure on the cobblestone street. The figure halted at a sign frozen in the rain. Wools Orphanage. It passed the rusty iron gates and climbed the crumbling brick and ivy to a wooden framed window. A hand of flesh rose and the locked window slowly unhinged. The figure glided into the window.

It hovered over an empty wooden crib. The child curled into its arms. Illuminated eyes peered out of the shadows. The figure stayed still. The child stirred but did not wake.

"You're here." The eyes brought pale flesh that glowed in the moonlight. "And the child?" The figure brought a palm over its head; pulling a hood off and revealing curling lushes' coal locks to the air. The hair framed a highlighted face with dark lashes brushing high cheekbones.

"His mother?" He inquired. Sharp lips turned down.

"Dead."

"Father?"

"Might as well be." The man's sharp teeth glittered in his mouth in unspoken words. The figure glanced up. "No." a hushed voice whispered. "I did not harm him. But a man that has to live a false life shouldn't pray to even live. I pity him." A chin dipped toward the infant child. "But it had to be done."

"Of course." A masculine hand grasped the rail of the crib. "His name," he breathed. The other's lips curved. "I fear you know it." And tilted forward, draped across the rail of the crib, placing the child inside on the thin mattress.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle." He exhaled. The figure placed a kiss on the baby's forehead and smoothed the downy black hair.

"Protect and watch over him. For I cannot always be here for him." It whispered. The man bowed and took the cloaked shapes' wrist and placed a kiss upon the fragile skin.

"Yes, Milady."

He jerked his head up clutching his bare chest. The silk sheets pooled at his waist. This dream he had been reliving every night for a month. Wools Orphanage. He had seen the place where he had grown up and knew that this dream had to do with his past. He ran his nimble fingers threw his hair and placed them on the bridge of his nose. He pinched his eyes shut, almost feeling his skin bruise with the force. His past and he wanted to rid himself of it. Make himself more than just filthy-blood.

"Think Tom, Think. Where could this dream lead to – what could it lead to? The night I was born . . . where I grew up!" He leaped from his bed, throwing the covers off. "Of course! Why hadn't I thought about it before!" Lord Voldemort padded across the rough wooden floor and pushed open the heavy door.

The sunlight filtered through the dirty, dusty, windows. The Dark Lord traveled down the halls at the speed of wind. He magicked the double doors open.

"My Lord!" A shocked servant hurried to stand.

"Prepare papers!" He sneered. "I am going to Hogwarts."


Mead's Blood, Tahlavel; unknown

A man sat hunched over his stool. He gulped down another shot of something brown and sluggish; his crowfeet pulling up with each grimace, showing the bitterness of the foul-looking drink. Drops trickled down his salt and pepper beard. His leather cheeks a rosy red. "Giv' me anoth'r, Graeme." he growled hoarsely at the barman.

"Ya' always ask tha', Haymitch." Another man cried out to the other. The group of men surrounding let ruckus laughter roll between them, clinking glasses together.

"You'll drink yourself dead if you have anoth'r, Haymitch," Graeme, the barman, warned incredulously. Haymitch snorted, "I ain't pay'n you dragon's dung to lectur' me. Jus' get me the damn alcohol!" The barman grumbled, but turned around to fetch the drink. The barman wiped a pint glass than slammed it down and reached for another. He looked over the men. Haymitch sighed and rubbed his whiskers.

"You know," a voice startled the man, "Getting pissed in Tahlavel isn't the wisest choice on your part. After all, this is the village with all the naughty thieves and creatures." Haymitch narrowed his eyes trying to get a good look at the stranger. But, as habitat may fall, the person was draped in what looked to be a type of skin covering from head to the bottom of their leather boots.

"You ain't me mot'er," he growled. The stranger let out a chuckle, an amused atmosphere radiating from them. "A good thing to, because you'd be hung be your toes, if your attitude is anything to go by." You could just smell the smirk on the stranger. They sat down two stools from Haymitch. Graeme finished wiping a mug with a dirty rag and came to stand in front of the mystery person.

"Well . . ." He raised his eyebrows as if to say 'you gonna order somthin' bud?'. The stranger lifted a gloved finger to their covered face. "The Alp-luachra Lager." Then looked at the old clock above the fireplace. "Make that to go." They sighed.

"We only do tha' for special cus'mer's." Graeme frowned. The stranger stood up and gave an odd-sorts of laughter. Haymitch studied the figure thinking 'what makes tha' person good enough t' ask o' tha'?' Plucking out a cigar, lighting it with a flame that covered their leathered finger and leaning over the weathered counter top; the stranger murmured;

"Do you doubt me? After all my unexpected visits here?" a sigh passed through their lips, "What kind of woman would come here?" Haymitch's eyes widened. 'A women?' he thought incredulously. 'A women tha' comes 'ere – withou' business? Who t'e hell is she?' Obviously the bartender knew who she was, because he smiled a toothy smile.

"Aah, tha' would make some might'y sense. Wha' brings you 'ere, milady?" Graeme questioned while fixing her drink. She rubbed her forehead, and blew smoke from her pursed lips.

"The Prince and I are leaving Tahlavel and Koenon for a while." Haymitch gripped his mug tight; 'she knows da' Prince, hell, well 'nough ta' leave wit' – she can't be!"

"Not 'or any bad re'sons I 'ope," Graeme's eyebrows ticked. The women took another drag of her cigar.

"Nope," she popped the p. "Personal reasons." Then she muttered, "More like problems, actually." Graeme continued on as if he hadn't heard the last bit or he was just too damn polite to ask.

"'Ere you go, one Alp-luachra lager to go, milady" He slapped down the parasitic drink on the wood. She reached inside her cloak pulling out a coin bag. "Uhn'huh," Graeme's eyes crinkled. "Free o' charge."

"You can't keep doing that . . ." She trailed off.

"Anything for you –" the Bartender did not get to finish.

"–Bronwyn!" A deep, yet handsome, voice yelled from the twin doors of the bar. The women grasped the mug and took a long chug before she turned to the two men at the front door. Bronwyn glanced at them her thick eyelashes shading her and whisked into the night, bringing both men with her. Haymitch's jaw dropped. 'She is! An' I was ru'e to 'er! 'Oley shite!'


"I was beginning to wonder when you'd show up." Bronwyn said scathingly to her brother and his ceorl. Her brother raised his hands in mock surrender. The other man, the ceorl, pulled his sooty-velvet hood off. He regarded her with excited gleaming eyes. She stared at him a miniscule smile tugged at her pale lips

"We were . . . busy," her brother wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. His ceorl's cheeks flushed. "Daymeon," he warned. Bronwyn snorted.

"I inferred as much. You go at it like rabbits!" She sneered, but her eyes gleamed with amusement.

"Good to see you to, Bronwyn." The ceorl huffed. Clearly his ego was hit. She turned her marble gaze to his neglected expression. Bronwyn smiled tenderly at him, her now un-gloved hand stroked his cheek.

"Hello, Regulus." She breathed. His cloud gray eyes light up as he beamed at her, leaning into her palm. Daymeon watched their snuggle with a slight grin at his mouth. He cocked his body to Bronwyn's level.

"Do I get a hello too?" he jested. Bronwyn locked eyes with her brother; all tenderness disappeared and was replaced with regard.

"So you want a kiss now, do you?" She mocked. "Well I think not!" Regulus snorted at her theatrics. Daymeon just leaned even closer – if that was possible – so that his nose pushed against her own, freckle to freckle. "Ooh-kay," Bronwyn relented, as she pecked his mouth. Daymeon threw his arms around both Regulus and Bronwyn; squeezing them to his side and each other's. Each of their brows were touching the others. Their breath mingled and their eyes probed.

"I am going to miss both of you," Daymeon admitted. Bronwyn pressed her cheek to his as if to reassure him. Daymeon grasped her face and planted a kiss on her closed lips in goodbye. "We will miss you as well." Regulus mumbled into Daymeon's skin.

"Write to me as soon as you have spare time." This time Daymeon was speaking directly to Regulus, his ceorl and cópenere. "Of course." Regulus whispered and gave him a kiss as sweet as aged wine. Bronwyn broke apart from them and headed toward the Drýcræft Pegasus – who were flicking their manes and tails like they had no care in the world.

"Make hast." She told the lovers as she prepared the Drýcræft Pegasus for the journey they had ahead of them. "We're off to see the Wizards, the wonderful Wizards of Hogwarts." She hummed bitterly. Daymeon and Regulus chuckled before parting with another kiss. Daymeon sighed;

"Be safe, my Ceorl." Regulus pulled at his neck sealing them in a short kiss once again. He buried his face in Daymeon's neck. "I love you." He mumbled against skin and cloth. They separated from each other's arms, and Regulus turned away from him with a glance of lust before joining Bronwyn on the Pegasus.

"Fare well, Daymeon." Bronwyn called to her brother while her magnificent black beast, Bleu, trotted in circles. Regulus had already climbed Viscaria and sent his lover a last longing look.

"And to you, my love!" Daymeon puckered his lips and blew a kiss at her, waving his hand mockingly after her. She snorted and pulled at Bleu's reins and swiftly dived into the cobblestone road with Regulus flowing after her. Both horses took off into a sprint, their hooves clattering on the road; leaving Daymeon standing alone.