Disclaimer: Not mine

Pairings: Sterek, John/Harry, Scott/Allison, Lydia/Jackson, Hermione/Ron

Warnings: EWE, non-descriptive mpreg, slash, homophobes, OCs

A/N: Harry was born in 1974, so push all the events in Harry Potter back 6 years. Stiles was born in 1996, so he's like 16-17 in the story. Sheriff John Stilinski was born in 1969 and is 43-44 (Yeah Stiles has young parents). Harry will be mostly referred as a woman named Harley Stilinski nee Evans in this… makes more since once you begin reading -.-

A/N: I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT THERE WILL BE AN IMPORTANT OC... :3 we will kinda meet her this chapter...

There were secrets that he kept to himself about his dead wife. John couldn't stand to say it to Stiles. He didn't want to see the dark glare or the confused looks he would get from him. So it was only logical that John wouldn't say anything to Stiles or anyone about them.

The secret of Harley Stilinski being a man was one that John held close to his chest, in a near mock gesture of love to protect the dead man. There were more of course, like how Harley wasn't even the man's real name, but John didn't know it. And the one time John did question Harley about it, Harley just looked at John with his green eyes – a sad air to them – and just replied, "That was apart of my past, and now this is my new name, for my future." It was the end of the conversation.

The only one secret that John hated keeping to himself was that when Harley was killed, Harley had been nine months pregnant. It had been a shock, John hadn't known, Harley had never told him. He'd remember standing in the morgue shocked as the medical examiner told him about it. Apparently it was a silent pregnancy, and Harley probably didn't know about it, but what made that worse was the the murderer had ripped the unborn child out of Harley's womb while Harley was still alive. The body of the baby was never found.

And as John stood in the kitchen eight years after Harley died, he could feel the weight of all the lies that had built over the years weighing him down. He wanted to tell Stiles about them all, to tell him about his true mother – not the one of nearly suppressed memories Stiles had. But the thought of what Stiles would say to him always seemed to stop it.

John was startled out of his thoughts at the sound of knocking on the front door. John looked at the clock showed that it was eleven thirty. Damn over four hours were spent thinking about Harley. John sighed, and turned off the coffee machine that had probably been beeping at him for the four hours. Running a hand threw his hair, John made his way to the front door.

"Hello Melissa." He greeted the woman.

Melissa McCall was a beautiful woman entering her forties. There were faint wrinkles that were appearing around her mouth, frown and laughing lines that were easily covered up with makeup. And barely there crows feet appearing at the corners of her eyes. With dark curly hair and dark eyes, John was never ashamed to say she was beautiful.

Melissa gave him a smile, gentle and kind with and understanding look in her eyes as if she knew what he had been thinking about moments before opening the door. "Hello John."

She took in his appearance and raised an eyebrow at him. John felt a little heat on his cheeks, he was still dressed in his pajamas. "Wont you come in?" He asked her. John stepped out of the way and let her in, and he noted that she was dressed in scrubs but was too cheerful for her to have just gotten of a shift so she must have dropped by just before one. He closed the door behind her.

"How are you and Stiles doing so far?" She asked as they made their way to the kitchen.

John shrugged, "Stiles had a nightmare last night." He said, pouring them cups of coffee. "I think it was bad, screamed himself hoarse."

Melissa blinked as she sat down at the kitchen table, a worried look crossing over her face. "Do you think he's remembering?" She asked softly, saying a soft thank you as John handed her her cup.

John stared down into his black coffee. "I don't know. I hope not." He said. Angrily he rubbed his hand over his face.

Melissa shifted in her seat, taking a sip of coffee. "It is a matter of time before he remembers."

John glared down at his coffee, a scowl was already forming on his face. "It would be best that he doesn't remember."

Melissa sighed, and jumped a little when Stiles appeared around the corner, rubbing his eyes as if beating off sleep. "Remember what?" Stiles asked. John already was turning around and refilling his coffee, and making one for Stiles.

"Did you take your medicine this morning?" John asked, deflecting the question.

Stiles stared at John like he lost his head. Stiles always remembered to take his medicine, after all his mother always stressed the importance of Stiles taking his medicine. "You didn't answer my question." John stared back at Stiles. "And you didn't answer mine."

Melissa watched silently as the two Stilinski men stared each other down, before Stiles sighed and took a large gulp of coffee, and winced at the sharp bitter taste. "Yeah I took it this morning." Stiles went around his father and went to the fridge and grabbed the milk and went to the cabinet to grab the sugar. John looked on with a disapproving gaze.

Melissa glanced at the clock, "Well John, Stiles I'll be heading out now." She gave Stiles a hug and patted John on the arm, giving him a look that clearly told him to talk with Stiles.

After Melissa left, silence fell over them. John finished off his coffee and placed it in the sink. The older man then made his way around the kitchen making something for them to eat. Stiles watched him carefully, wondering when the perfect time to ask about their – as in Melissa and his father's conversation would be. John already had toast cooking and was working on the eggs.

Stiles stared at his light brown coffee. "What were you and Mrs. McCall talking about?" He asked.

John looked at Stiles, "Nothing important. Just stuff."

Stiles looked at his father, "Stuff... huh..."

John looked away from Stiles. "Drop it Genim." He said, his voice holding a warning tone in it.

His son gave a frustrated sigh before John handed him a plate with two nicely toasted bread, and three eggs. John went back to the stove to begin cooking some eggs for himself. The pair fell into an awkward silence.

John turns the conversation that he had with Melissa over inside his head as he eats, it's true though, he doesn't want Stiles to remember. He doesn't want Stiles to remember the day that his mother was killed. He also doesn't want Stiles to remember that he was there, that he watched his mother get ripped apart by some animal and somehow survives.