A/N: And this is where we began our trek into uncharted waters...
We get a bit more, "So... Sam?" and this shall be its true test! If people are diggin it there might be more, but if people are still turned off... well, guess there would be no helping it.
Oh, also, this chapter is completely unbeta'd, so I'm sorry for all those nasty grammar errors and spelling mistakes which might slap you in the face. Don't be afraid to point em out, but I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on this development as well.
And one final important note: There won't be a chapter next week.
Sorry, I know, I know. Before you send in the hate mail, I promise there will be a chapter the week after next!
Now then, please enjoy the latest chapter and realize this is in no way me trying to distract you from your displeasure~!
Interlude - Part Two
Outside the windows of the Impala, the sky was alight with the glow of stars and the scenery was a swirling mass of shadowed color as they drove past. Harry lay in the backseat, his swollen ankle propped on the upholstery while Sam drove with Dean in the passenger seat, watching his brother and sniping at him when he so much drove a little too close to the middle of the lane.
Sam sighed, fed up with his brother when Dean once more reminded him to "ease over to the right a little" as Sam made a rather easy turn. "I know Dean," Sam said, his knuckles white as he clenched the steering wheel. "I've only know how to drive since I was twelve."
"Yeah and Dad made you learn with rentals. How many cars did you wreck again?" Dean gave his brother an innocent smile. Sam ground his teeth together, silent as his eyes stayed on the center of the road. In the backseat Harry rolled his eyes, releasing a quiet noise of exhale as he settled.
The small sound caught Dean's attention and he shifted in his seat to look back at the man. "Dude, are you sleeping already? It's barely even eight PM!"
"Knock it off Dean," Sam said before Harry could even open his mouth. He threw concerned glances at his best friend as he drove, but with Harry's back to them, he couldn't see his face. "This was Harry's first hunt. I remember how I felt after mine. Remember that ghost in Tuscaloosa?"
"Aw, I remember that!" Dean exclaimed, a fond smile on his face. "Yeah, you puked all over Dad's favorite jacket. Good times, good times."
Sam blushed, his eyes once more flickering to Harry and finding his mortification deepening when he saw Harry's shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "That's not the point," Sam bit out. "The point is that the first hunt is hard."
"It wasn't for me," Dean said with a shrug, turning to look out the window now that he was done teasing his brother. "Maybe you were just a pansy?" Or not.
"Most of us aren't you Dean," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. "To you, hunting is as natural as swimming is to a fish. But the rest of us? We aren't so lucky."
Harry rolled over, interrupting before the two could degenerate into a pointless argument. "I'm fine guys, really. I just… I have a lot on my mind." Sam and Dean both looked back at him, Dean with an unreadable expression and Sam with his eyes shining in understanding. "I'm fine," Harry stressed, knowing the two didn't believe him.
"Harry," Sam began. Dean snorted, making his brother look at him in confusion.
"He said he's fine Sammy, so maybe that means he's fine." Harry felt his eyebrows rising, astonished that Dean appeared to be sticking up for him. Sam however, was less than impressed and a scowl darkened his face.
"Oh, come on Dean; Harry's my best friend I think I'd know if—"
"Merlin, you two are like some sort of married couple!" Harry exploded, unable to comprehend just how much they argued. It seemed like every other moment, they were bickering over something that made not one lick of sense to an outside observer. "Just so we can move past this: yes, I am indeed fine Sam, thanks for the concern, but I just have a few things on my mind."
There was complete and utter silent in the Impala after Harry's outburst, Harry himself having once more turned his back on the two and used his hands as a makeshift pillow as he settled into the leather. Dean sat with his mouth the slightest bit agape while Sam just blinked, not able to remember the last time Harry had snapped at him.
After several tense moments, Dean coughed and shifted in his seat. "Told you."
Sam just grimaced, unable to come up with anything else.
In actuality, Harry had stretched the truth a bit. Yes, he was fine, but the problem wasn't what the Winchesters most likely thought it was.
Harry had been in a war, he knew that it was impossible to save everyone and he had come to accept it. Still, that didn't mean he didn't mourn their passing, because he did. It just meant that it was a life lesson he had learnt years ago, and while he didn't like it, he would deal in his own way.
So no, he wasn't shaken up over the death of Roy. While it was cruel, Roy's death had been because of his own hastiness and there wasn't a lot Harry could have done to stop it. There was an infinite number of 'ifs' and 'buts', but such things wouldn't change the past.
Harry had accepted what happened during the hunt, and because of the Wizarding World, such supernatural existing didn't bother him in the slightest. What did bother him, however, were the words Ben had spoken to him before they departed and the word's Harry had used to comfort him:
"You should trust your family."
If Harry were to be honest with himself, those words made him the biggest hypocrite in the world. It had been almost a month since he began traveling with Sam and Dean, and that was also the last time he had spoken with his own family—more specifically, with Remus.
In the beginning, Harry had tried to contact his friends and family as much as he could, but it had been difficult. With Hedwig killed during the war and being reluctant to get a new owl, he had to wait for his friend's to owl him before he could respond. Despite what Harry had thought, fireplaces were not exactly common in America, and the same was true for its colleges. When Harry received the two-way mirror Remus gave him on his birthday, communication became a little easier, but by then Harry had integrated so far into his new life that sending updates to his friends had become an afterthought.
And now that he had even gone so far as to become a hunter, well… Harry thought they at least deserved that much. But, he was also afraid of what they would think of him afterwards.
Hunters were on par with Death Eaters in the Wizarding World in terms of hatred, and if his friend's discovered what he had decided to become…
Harry found himself wanting to laugh. His situation mirrored Ben's so perfectly that it was almost scary.
"You should trust your family."
Yes. Harry would follow his own advice and trust his family.
o0o
When Harry awoke, it was to the sound of Sam and Dean muttering to each other and the slam of car doors as the two got out. Mind still clouded in sleep, Harry couldn't understand what was going on till his own door opened and the upside down face of Dean entered his vision.
"Oh, you're awake—damn, I was looking forward to carrying you." Harry just blinked and Dean coughed, stepping out of Harry's range of vision. "Well, since you're awake, come on."
Harry sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes as his brain tried to comprehend where they were.
"We're at a motel," Dean told him with a chuckle. "Sam went to get us a room and—ah, speak of the extremely tall devil."
Sam strode across the motel parking lot toward them, a set of keys in his hands. He tossed the keys to Dean, saying "I'll get our stuff," as he went over to the trunk.
Sighing, Harry got out of the Impala and followed Dean into their dark motel room. The hunter flicked on the lights and the unimpressive sight of their room became visible.
Dean gave a large smile, as if the place looked like home, before taking off his shoes and plopping onto the nearest bed face first. The man bounced before settling, a low groan escaping him as he sank into the mattress. Normally, Harry would laugh at Dean's antics, but now? Now all he could do was wonder…
What would his friend's think when they learned he was pining after a hunter? What would they think when they learned his best friend was a hunter and that they both knew all about him and the Wizarding World? Hell, what would they think when they learned that Harry himself had become a hunter?
In their eyes, becoming a hunter might very well mean that he proclaimed himself as the next Dark Lord, which was insane—but hey, the Wizarding World had believed worse.
Sam came in moments later with their bags on his shoulder and sat the luggage down with a small grunt. He closed the door and was about to make his way to the bed where he and Harry would sleep when he caught sight of his friend.
Harry stood in the middle of the room, his eyes distant and morose as he stared down at Dean. Dean was unaware of the look, snuggling into his scratchy motel pillow and already dreaming of hot girls, the next hunt, and pie. Harry too featured in those dreams, but if asked, Dean would deny it.
"Harry?" Sam called, receiving no response. With a frown, he walked over to his friend and waved a hand in front of Harry's face. Still no response. "Harry!" He grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders and gave a firm shake, Harry's eyes snapping onto him in shock as he was returned to the normal world with a jolt.
"S-Sam?" Harry asked, blinking around at the room as if he had no idea how they had gotten there. That only caused Sam's worry to grow stronger and he gave Harry's shoulders a firm squeeze.
"Harry, are you okay?" Sam questioned. When Harry just gave him a nonplussed quirked eyebrow, he elaborated, "For the past few days, you've been pretty… distant. Like now, you spaced out and looked like you didn't even know where you were! What's wrong?"
"It's nothing," Harry said, brushing off Sam's hands. He ignored the man's warm brown eyes boring into him with purpose.
Sam scoffed, stopping Harry when the shorter man moved to walk away. "No, Harry, talk to me! This isn't nothing. What's wrong?"
Caught and unable to escape, Harry began chewing on his lip, a sign to anyone who knew him that he was worried about something. "I…" Harry's eyes flicked up to Sam and then over to a sleeping Dean before he stared down at the floor. "I'm a hunter, Sammy."
That hadn't been what Sam expected to come out of his best friend's mouth, and his grip on Harry slackened. "I don't—I don't understand," Sam admitted, shaking his head.
"I helped you guys kill a Wendigo," Harry said, laughing a laugh so devoid of mirth that it made Sam wince. "At first it didn't really mean anything and I didn't really understand but… now I do. I'm a hunter, Sammy—a danger in the eyes of wizards everywhere."
"Oh, Harry," Sam breathed, pulling his best friend into a hug. Harry clutched onto him, his fists digging into the fabric of Sam's shirt almost to the point of pain, but Sam allowed it. He could feel Harry's shoulders shaking and he felt his own heart breaking in response.
When he had suggested Harry join he and Dean as a hunter, he had been selfish, thinking only of himself and his own desire for Harry to never leave him. Never once had he thought to question what Harry's friends and family would think of this; never once had he thought that if it became known that the Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived had become a hunter, then the outcry would be explosive. There was a chance they would even order Harry's death.
The thought of such a thing caused a hand to grip Sam's heart and he found it hard to breath.
"I'm sorry," Sam whispered into Harry's hair, rubbing up and down Harry's back in an attempt to ease even a fraction of his anxiety. "I'm so sorry. If you want, you can leave right now. You'll never—"
"No," Harry whispered, his voice so fierce and full of resolve that Sam stiffened in shock. Harry looked up, his familiar emerald eyes shining with unshed tears but also with a fire so bright Sam thought he would be blinded by it. "I'll never abandon you Sammy, even if it means the whole Wizarding World turning its back on me."
Sam couldn't allow that. Harry still had friends and family in Britain, unlike most hunters who had so little to lose. Sam still had Dean and his father, yes, but they were hunters as well and even then they weren't the most stable of family.
"Harry, no—"
Harry cut him off with a firm shake of his head. "This is my choice Sam, and besides, it's still too soon to jump to conclusions. I… I trust my family, Sam, and I hope when I tell them of the choice I made that… that they'll trust me as well."
Faced with such conviction, all Sam could do was nod, bolstered by the faith Harry seemed to hold. "They will," he said, hoping to reassure himself as much as Harry. "If they are good enough to have earned your trust then... then I trust them as well."
"Sammy," Harry whispered, a smile blooming on his face that for a moment left the tall man breathless. "Thank you."
Sam chuckled, trying to brush the weird moment away with little success. "D-Don't… don't mention it," he said.
Harry graced him with another smile before the man turned and Sam watched as the shorter man slipped under the covers before turning to him with an inviting smile, patting the empty space next to him. With a small cough, Sam removed his shoes and jacket before sliding into bed, trying to put as much space between he and Harry as possible.
"Goodnight Sam," came Harry's quiet voice.
"Night Harry," Sam said.
Long after Harry's breathing had settled into even inhales, Sam found that sleep eluded him, his thoughts in a sudden turmoil. He blocked the more… unpleasant ones with purpose, and the rest he simply ignored.
It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that Sam finally drifted off to sleep, the comforting glow of shining emerald eyes chasing the nightmares away.
o0o
Harry's eyes snapped open, his vision adjusting to the darkness of the room in a matter of seconds.
Sometime during the night, Harry managed to wrap himself around Sam, their limbs tangled in a twisted design. They were both snugglers by nature and many a time Harry had awoken to find himself contorted around Sam like some sort of demented pretzel.
In his own bed, Dean grumbled something in his sleep which sounded like "goddammit Harry gimme back my pie" before he rolled over and continued his quiet snoring.
Sighing, Harry removed himself from Sam and stood to his feet with a yawn. A quick glance at the clock told him it was almost four AM but Harry knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Moody made sure that when he was up, he was up, so Harry decided to get ready for the day.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, Harry scoured the motel room to see if it came stocked with a coffee maker. It was a pretty run down place, but Harry had slept in worse and in the end he found the maker inside the bedside drawer of all places.
He hooked the device up and began preparing some of the bland coffee provided by the motel—complimentary, of course. As he waited, he studied the sleeping face of Dean, taking in the man's hard angles smoothened out in sleep, how his eyes that were able to both twinkle in mirth and burn with dark efficiency were now closed with his eyelids fluttering lightly. And then there were his lips.
Harry shuddered. They were parted in sleep, pouty as always, and Harry could think of at least five naughty things that he wanted to do with them.
Dean shifted in his sleep and Harry jumped, pretending to check on his coffee in case Dean had awoken. A quick glance showed that Dean was still asleep and Harry released a quiet breath, a frown on his face as he stared down at the blinking coffee machine.
What was he doing, pining after Dean…? It had already been made obvious that Dean was a womanizer—or rather, personizer—and even if by some miracle, Dean decided he wanted to pursue something with Harry… what then?
Did he expect them to ride off into the sunset together and live the life he had always wanted?
…Yes. That was exactly it.
But he knew that wasn't how it would be; he knew that being in a relationship would Dean would have its own problems and it wouldn't be as easy as he hoped.
Yet still, that did nothing to take away his desire to be with him. Even though his mind supplied him with an endless number of reasons for why even breathing the same air as Dean was a bad idea, his heart ached at the simple thought of them being apart.
And in the end, Harry's heart would always win out over his head. That was just the way he was and how he always would be.
The coffee maker gave a beep, signaling it was done and Harry poured himself a cup, not taking the time to add creme or sugar—he liked it black and as the scalding liquid slid down his throat he could feel the energizing effects already taking hold.
He had decided.
He would remain with Sam—and despite his brain telling him otherwise—with Dean. They had wormed their way inside his heart, and once a person managed to do that, Harry never let them go.
Harry snorted, watching the top of his coffee ripple.
Who was he kidding? Running to America had been exactly that.
He had been letting his past life go, letting go of all of the bad, all of the hurt. But what he hadn't realized was that he was letting go of all of the good as well.
Remus, Hermione, Neville, Fred and George…
They had never abandoned him, never turned their backs on him, even when it would have been better for them to have done so, they hadn't. Yet Harry, without once turning back, had set off on a new adventure, leaving them all behind…
He was selfish, and this sudden blow left him breathless, the porcelain mug which contained his coffee shaking in his fingers.
Even so… even so, he was afraid. He was afraid of telling them the truth and how they would react. The straw that broke the camel's back. The one thing that would finally turn them away…
Drawing in a shuddering breath, Harry shook his head. No—he wouldn't have doubts. He knew his friends… his family. They wouldn't turn their backs on him, not even if he announced that he planned on becoming the supreme ruler of earth. They would trust his good intentions and stand by him, through thick and then until the very end.
That was just the type of people they were.
Harry didn't know when the first tear fell, but it slid down his face and impacted his coffee with a silent ripple. A choked cry left his throat and he sat the mug on a nearby table, his fingers shaking so badly he feared he would drop the cup and awaken Sam and Dean.
Harry didn't just cry for the friends he had left behind, he cried for everyone—for everyone who had lost their life in the war and for everyone who had suffered the heartache of knowing what it was like to lose a loved one.
He cried until his eyes stung but tears no longer fell, he cried until his throat was sore from the sobs which threatened to break forth but which he silence. And once the tears had dried on his cheeks, Harry climbed to his feet and went over to his back to retrieve an item—a mirror.
Then, shoulder's set, Harry shot one final look at the still sleeping pair of brother's before walking out of the hotel room and into the cool night outside.
The sky was dotted with twinkling stars and the crescent moon illuminated the otherwise dark expanse of the parking lot. A chilly wind blew, ruffling Harry's hair and signaling the approaching winter.
Harry's breath ghosted the air as he trekked across the parking lot toward Dean's Impala. The doors were locked, but a simple Alohamora took care of that and he climbed into the backseat, using a warming charm to do away with the settling cold.
For some reason, Harry's heart beat inside his chest with heavy thumps, his breathing loud in the quiet parking lot and the mirror which he had gotten from his bag clenched in white knuckled fists.
It would be around noon in Britain and Harry knew that Remus would be home, but still Harry hesitated, doubts assaulting his mind and trying to convince him that this was a bad idea.
Harry pushed those insecurities away with prejudice and brought the mirror to his face. Then, drawing in a deep breath, Harry spoke.
"Remus Lupin."
For a moment, Harry's own resigned face stared back at him, however, seconds after he had said the name, the mirror rippled like a lake disturbed by a single rock, Harry's face becoming distorted. At last, the image changed and solidified, the haggard face of his godfather staring back at him.
Remus blinked, as if he couldn't believe his own eyes, but then shock took its place, followed quickly by happiness.
"Harry!" Remus cried, his tired face seeming to transform. "Merlin, Harry, how have you been! I've tried to contact you and I even tried to owl you but all my letter's came back unopened. Are you well? I just—Merlin, Harry—"
"Moony!" Harry interjected with a fond laugh, a burning fondness overtaking him. A large smile split Harry's face and already he could feel tears burning behind his eyes. God, he had wanted to run away from this. "It's good to see you as well, Remus."
Remus paused, his eyes narrowing before a pleased smile appeared on his face. "You are well; I'm glad. When I couldn't get in touch with you, I—well…"
Harry's grin melted away, his eyes clouding over. "I'm sorry. I should have contacted you right away; I-I know how nervous you were about me telling Sam about who I really am and… well… I'm sorry."
"Quite alright," Remus said quietly, a look in his eyes that Harry had seen before. It was the look Remus used when observing Teddy doing something memorable, a look that spoke of Remus's pride, his happiness, his love. Just seeing that look directed at him, Harry found his throat clenching and a prickling feeling once more entering his eyes. "I'm just glad you're safe Harry; nothing else matters."
That did it.
The tears which had been building a new spilled over and trekked down Harry's cheeks, yet he did nothing to brush them away.
"Remus," Harry choked, unable to hold back the building emotions inside of him when confronted with the eyes of the closest thing he had to a father. "I—Remus… I have something to tell you…"
Concern was in Remus's gaze, but that love and devotion was there as well, almost sending Harry into another fit of bawling.
"What is it, cub?"
Cub.
Harry choked, his eyes squeezed closed as he felt the warmth and love Remus conveyed with that single word.
"When I… when I decided to tell Sam about me, he gave me a choice... I could either walk out the door and they would hunt me later, or I could stay, and hope they wouldn't kill me after I told my story."
"Harry…"
Harry still had his eyes closed, but he could feel Remus's stare on his face. He just knew that if he opened his eyes, there was no way he could tell him, so he kept them closed.
"I told them about you," Harry admitted, his voice pained and no more than a whisper. "I told them that you were a werewolf and asked if they would ever hunt you… At first they said yes, but then they admitted that they would never hurt an innocent—and despite what happened with Snape, you're innocent Moony.
"After that… I… I didn't know what would happen. I mean, so many things had happened, so many things had changed. I haven't even told you everything…" Harry trailed off with a sigh, the memory of Jess being tortured flashing behind his closed lids.
"A-Anyway," Harry pressed on, "Sam, he…he gave me a suggestion… He and his brother were looking for their father, and he offered me a chance to travel alongside them… As a hunter."
Remus drew in a startled breath, and Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, easily able to imagine the look of comprehension no doubt on Remus's face. But Remus wouldn't accept it until Harry said it out loud, until he confirmed the suspicion which Remus already accepted on some level as true.
"And I… I accepted." Drawing in a deep breath, Harry brace himself. "I'm a hunter, Moony, enemy of supernatural beings everywhere."
