Changeling, chapter 11: Recognition

"A taste for irony has kept more hearts from breaking than a sense of humor, for it takes irony to appreciate the joke which is on oneself" - Jessamyn West


"Eat, brat." Mello shoved the half-eaten sandwich Harry had left in his room under his nose. Harry blinked at the piece of bread, unable to remember handing it to the blond teen when he'd left for the test. He rubbed up and down his arms, feeling vaguely unsettled by the whole test-business. Who was that Erald person? Harry had to resist the urge to turn around and reassure himself that the frog-like man hadn't followed him out the door, despite knowing that he'd left him and the room's other occupants behind.

He still had to forcibly stop himself from shuddering.

"That bad?"

Harry glared up (and how the height difference galled!) at Mello, who was half-smirking and attempting to push the sandwich into his chest, probably smearing butter all over his shirt. Harry snatched it out of the teen's hand. "It was fine," he bit out, staring down at the unappealing bread and wondering if it'd seem terribly suspicious to ask to leave. It probably would. Stupid geniuses.

He looked back up again, noticing the distinct lack of albino boy in the hallway. A few blank puzzle pieces were scattered across the floor, like the puzzle had been thrown into the wall and the pieces scattered every which way.

"So 'fine' you look like you're about to throw a bitch fit." Harry could hear the smirk grow in Mello's voice and glared harder at the boy. The look in his eyes... it was like the teen knew the reason for his discomfort and found it terribly amusing. It was hard to say for sure though, because Harry was trying to avoid looking too deeply into the colors floating about the blond boy's body. He didn't need aura vision to tell that Mello was amused, but that was all he could discern with certainty.

"How did it go?" Matt's voice interrupted, the question very mild, and Harry felt the spooked anger recede. It was hard to stay angry in the face of Matt's honestly sympathetic expression, no matter how good it would feel to snap at the other boy.

Considering the question, Harry felt a wash of tentative satisfaction. "Pretty well, I think." He hadn't been able to answer everything, but he hadn't done that badly, especially considering his lack of a muggle education.

"Cool," Matt said with a smile. Harry pointedly ignored the roll of Mello's eyes and let himself smile back.

"So, what do you say we hit the seamstress?" the blond teen suggested after a beat of silence. Harry wasn't sure if Mello just wasn't curious enough to ask more about his test results, or if he was just trying to be tactful. Though as Harry seriously doubted the blond had even one tactful bone in his body, he figured it was more likely that Mello just wasn't all that interested. Or, the paranoid part of him spoke up, the teen wanted to find a more secluded place to ask invasive questions.

Then Mello's actual words registered. "What?" Harry blinked, startled. Hit who? The seamstress? He remembered Mello - or maybe it had been Matt - mentioning a seamstress, but he didn't even know who the woman was, let alone bear a grudge against her!

"I don't care for violence," he settled for, wondering why Mello would suggest that to him in the first place. It wasn't like he looked like he'd be very useful a back-up, with his thin and small child's body. Though that just went to prove how you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, as Hermione always used to say.

Mello blinked back at him, appearing to have been temporarily thrown off his stride. Harry wasn't sure why that statement should surprise him, because he couldn't imagine that he looked like much of an experienced fighter. Ironically. "The fuck are you talking about, brat?"

"I'm not hitting anyone," he dead-panned and Mello stared at him in silence for a very long second. His eyes were very piercing, a part of Harry noticed uncomfortably. Potentially dangerous eyes. Then the blond snorted, the sound like a cat spitting.

Suddenly he was speaking fast, eyes narrowed in a sharper kind of amusement. "You've got to be kidding me! Didn't think anyone but that albino bastard was that backwards-" his voice was incredulous and it immediately disturbed Harry. There was a tinge of almost gleeful cruelty in his tone, like a small child ripping the wings of a fly just for fun.

"Mello!" Matt interrupted his friend, leaning to the side and slapping his shoulder with a loud twack. Surprisingly, Mello shut his mouth, teeth clacking together and Harry watched him warily, waiting for the explosion he felt was sure to follow.

"Urgh. Whatever." The blond rolled his eyes and tossed his head back with a negligent wave of his hand, as if trying to swat an annoying bug away from his face. Harry carefully observed the two teens, head tilted down so that his fringe fell over his eyes, but said nothing. He did make a mental note to be more on his guard around Mello though, because that tone of voice had set warning bells ringing in the back of his head.

Matt adjusted the goggles on his head and glared at his friend. "What Mello meant was that we might as well head down to see the seamstress, because classes won't begin for a while yet. You need proper clothes." Harry wasn't quite sure that was at all what Mello had meant and showed his opinion of this unsubtle misdirection by arching both eyebrows.

"That's fine, I guess," he said when neither of the two commented on his expression. Matt nodded, and herding Mello in front of him with expertly movements, he led the way to the seamstress.


Matt's cellphone beeped, and he turned from his discreet observation of the youngest member of their little group to fish it up from his trouser pocket, completely without breaking pace. Mello had a tendency to use the smallest pockets of time to spin some sneaky manipulations and he wanted to keep the peace for as long as he could. The kid didn't need any more pressure; his situation was screwed-up enough as it was.

Continuing to half-push Mello forward while simultaneously keeping an eye on Hadrian and checking his phone, Matt allowed himself a moment of pride in his multitasking abilities. Being friends with someone as wily as the blond teen required the ability to do several things at once, not only because Mello himself had a tendency to become distracted from what he was originally doing by whatever interesting new ideas that popped into his head. Usually to Matt's sanity's detriment.

The fact that the other teen wasn't shrugging Matt's hand away from his back made several of the redhead's internal Mello-alarms blare in warning, because a quiet Mello was a plotting Mello. Keeping half an eye firmly locked onto the back of his friend's head, Matt glanced down at his phone.

His alias is to be 'Harry'.

It took Matt less than half a second to shift gears from worries about oncoming Mello-implemented plots to L. Then he sighed. It wasn't no wonder that the detective had chosen someone like Mello as one of his Heirs, when L himself could be this petty. It was almost a little amusing.

"Hadrian, your alias has been decided," Matt said, lips slowly twitching upwards. Sometimes he felt like the only person in this house who actually acted his age. Everybody else either acted too old or too young for their biological age.

The dark-haired boy glanced back at him, steps slowing. Matt smiled at him and watched the creases creating waves over his forehead smooth. He didn't want the kid to misunderstand his amusement, not after Mello's little show of brattiness.

When Hadrian's attention was firmly on him, he spoke. "Your new name will be 'Harry'-" with a mental curse, Matt interrupted himself mid-sentence to move at the same time Mello turned, catching the back of Hadrian's shirt in a fist before the boy fell from his abrupt stumble.

"Jesus Christ brat, chose a better time to trip!" Mello bit out, arm flung around the boy's chest to keep him from tilting forwards over the top of the stairs. They carefully drew him backwards to a less precarious position and Matt felt his heart crawl down from his throat back to his chest.

"Sorry." The boy shrugged their hands off him with an uncomfortable movement and righted himself. His face was turned downwards and Matt wondered what had just happened. Because that was clearly not a stumble born from normal childhood clumsiness.

Mello tilted his head, the light glinting metallic in his eyes, and pointedly smirked. Matt knew that smirk and prepared to intervene if – 'when', really – things took a turn for the worse.

"So. You know a 'Harry' from before?" And of course, being Mello, the blond went right for the kill. Matt felt the back of his eyes warm with the beginnings of a headache, and reached up to rub at his temple. Hadrian – who he'd now have to remember to call 'Harry' – looked up at the blond with the strangest expression Matt had seen yet on the boy' face.

It was nearly unreadable, even to someone as good at reading expressions as he was, if only because it flickered between different emotions very quickly. Matt thought he saw incredulity, suspicion and shock, but he couldn't be sure. What he did know, or could guess at, was that whoever this 'Harry' person was, he'd either been or was still, very important to Hadrian. Too much emotional response from the boy for him not to be.

Hadrian breathed out slowly, the breath rushed. "Yeah. From before." The mix of expressions was replaced by an absent look, eyes turned inward, and Matt wondered if this 'Harry' had been held precious or feared by the boy.

"What a coincidence..." Hadrian muttered quietly and Matt considered telling the kid that L had probably just chosen the alias out of spite, held the words back because he couldn't be entirely sure of that. Maybe L had known that Hadrian had a connection to someone named 'Harry' in the past, and was trying to bring forth a particular reaction. Or just rattle the boy.

Matt wouldn't put it past him, but before he could decide whether to comment on it, they were walking again. Or rather, Hadrian had started forwards and and Mello was keeping himself ahead of the boy to stare at him.

"Or not," the blond said, obviously entertaining at least some of the same ideas Matt had been, and just as obviously using them to prod the boy. His friend had always been the kind of person who'd do just that, for no other reason than to watch the other person squirm.

Hadrian's head jerked around, and he stared at Mello with eyes that for a brief moment looked murky with emotion. Mello smirked; Matt decided it was time to intervene and smacked the back of the blond's head. Mello could definitely have stopped the light blow from landing though, but for whatever reasons he chose not to.

Matt's eyes lingered on the blond for a moment before he bent down to Hadrian's level. "It's nothing to worry about, Harry," he murmured, registering but not reacting at the way the boy twitched at the use of his new moniker. "L just picks a name out of thin air. Sometimes more boring names, like mine-" he explained lightly, trying to keep his voice soothing without dipping down into condescension. Being condescending in a house full of geniuses was just setting yourself up for a lesson in humility.

"-and sometimes fucking awesome names, like mine," Mello finished with a cat-like grin. The blond had always been very fond of his alias, no matter that it really didn't fit his disposition. But then, Mello liked contradictions. Long blond hair and silver rose earrings with leather and stainless steel studs. Explicit curses interspersed with words most people would have to look up in a thesaurus. Mello was a walking contradiction and in almost everything he did, that shone through.

The air remained tense for a moment. "I suppose mine would be one of the boring names, then?" Hadrian said, voice a little dry. His eyes remained turned away, forehead creased.

"Yeah," the blond snorted. "Seriously, 'Harry'? No creativity in a nick like that."

Hadrian stared at Mello, green eyes blank. Matt started to reassure the boy that it was a perfectly good name – because children could be sensitive about such blatant baiting, which he'd make sure to remind Mello of later – and almost jumped when the boy then started laughing, hands on his knees and body shaking. The sudden laughter didn't fit with the profile Matt had started forming of the boy, and he blinked a little as his impressions tumbled sideways.

"I think it's just fine," Hadrian finally concluded, voice a little breathless and green eyes now bright with mirth. Matt took a brief second to wonder if he was befriending another troublemaker, because that amusement was definitely standing on a mischievous base. The boy snorted. "In fact, I think it suits me."

"Whatever," Mello said, though his eyes were narrowed in thought.

They finally ended up in front of a large pink door on the ground floor, one Matt hadn't shown Hadrian during the tour. Mello sneered at the painted flowers covering one side of the door, and for once Matt couldn't blame him for his rudeness. There was something almost creepy about the way the door was so cheerfully bright.

"Stork's bill," Hadrian suddenly spoke up, leaning in between him and Mello to trail fingers over the five-petalled purple flowers closest to the door handle. The blond turned to look down at him, brows arched.

"You know flowers, brat?" He wasn't actually sneering any more, but rather looked like he'd found an interesting new piece of a puzzle. Matt desperately hoped Mello wasn't about to turn Hadrian's every comment into some kind of personal intelligence gathering mission. That wouldn't be fair to the kid. Not that his friend had ever been very good at playing fair.

Hadrian sighed, the slow trailing movements of his fingers becoming absent. "Only the useful ones. And stop calling me 'brat'." There was a sudden snap to the boy's voice that Matt was glad to hear. Mello could trample over people without even really meaning to if they didn't assert themselves.

"All flowers have their uses, boy. Haven't you heard of 'art for art's sake'?" Martha Seamstress, whose last name Matt had never been able to find, stepped out of a smaller doorway to the left of their little group. Hadrian was the only one who didn't jump at her sudden appearance, but instead stiffened and then slowly cocked his head to the side. With his lips pursed like that he looked the epitome of a precocious child, though Matt couldn't fault him for being momentarily taken back by the way she looked.

A large ankle-length blue skirt fanned out from her hips, creasing lightly where she had her glove-covered hands pressed against her hipbones. Several pearl necklaces hung from her neck, dangling over the front of her white blouse. Pearls were also in her ears, as well as her hair in the form of a hairpin holding the large bun at the nape of her neck in place.

All in all, she looked like she'd stepped out of a women's magazine from the fifties. Though admittedly, looking at her white hair and the many wrinkles lining her eyes and mouth, the fifties was probably happening a few decades after her birth.

"No, but I can guess what that means." Hadrian finally said, voice almost hushed. Matt glanced at him in concern, but couldn't see the boy's eyes for the bangs obscuring most of his upper face.

"Hm." She scrutinized him for a moment, looking every inch the stern grandmother, before her gaze expanded to include them all. "Well boys, if you want something now, you'll have to be quick about it." She plucked a small folded note from a pocket and waved it in their direction. "I was just about to hang this up on the door. Haven't had breakfast yet, don't you know, what with all the people running in and out from the early morning hours." She attached it decisively to the door with blu-tack, harrumphing when she stepped back to face them again. Matt smiled weakly, and ignored Mello snorting beside him.

"It'll only take a few minutes." Matt glanced at Hadrian in wearing his pyjamas, who still staring at the seamstress.

Martha peered down at him, nodding. "Ah, yes. The new-"

"What's your last name?" Hadrian suddenly interrupted, voice still strangely hushed. Matt saw Mello's eyebrows arch, and agreed with the surprise. The interruption seemed a bit out of character, as much as the sudden burst of hilarity from before.

Martha's eyebrows rose as well. "I beg your pardon?" Before Hadrian could repeat the question, she shook her head. "That is hardly any of your business, young man. You must have noticed how careful we are with names here." Her voice was firm without sharpening the way caretaker Augusta's always did, but Hadrian still jerked a little.

Mello tilted his head, eyes narrowing again and Matt quickly decided to forestall anything his friend might want to say.

"Ah, since he's only just arrived-" He interrupted himself and went for the most obvious distraction for a seamstress dedicated to her work. "Anyway, he needs clothes!" He gestured over at Hadrian's, indicating the loose pyjama pants and shirt he was wearing.

Martha looked down at them, though Matt wasn't sure on whom her gaze rested this time, and then nodded soberly. "So he does." She didn't ask why he was dressed in pyjamas, but invited them all into the room behind the pink door. Hadrian spent a long moment with his eyes boring into the back of her head before following.

Matt wasn't sure if she truly didn't notice the drill-like stare or if she was deliberately ignoring it for reasons of her own.


A/N: I know it's been awhile, and I am sorry for keeping you waiting. They pile up a lot of school-work right before the holidays. But I should be able to write more once the summer hols comes around, knock on wood. In addition to the Legion of Homework, my computer blacks out about ten times a day (apparently due to overheating?), and I can't afford a new one at the moment. Kind of nerve-wrecking when I'm in the middle of writing, so I've taken to pressing 'save' after every sentence.

Thanks to all reviewers (they are still what motivates me, you guys. Seriously, thank you!) and PM's. Wish I had the time to respond to all of them.

Tell me what you thought of the chapter?

(Also, for any readers of "Teacher"- the fic is not dead. The next chapter is almost entirely written, I'm just unsure of how to write the bridge between two particular scenes.)