Disclaimer: If I earned anything from just owning the rights to Harry Potter and/or Hetalia, it'd be more than enough to get me through medschool. Yet, I am but a helpless soul that owns nothing except all these endless notes on pathology and pharmaceutic drugs and clinical studies- I have so many papers, but none of them are these works of art.

Contains: HarryP/ArthurK; MoD!AoM!Harry (Yes, I can officially put that in the tags portion mwahaha); NevilleL/LunaL (because I always thought this pairing was cute, even if it wasn't canon); hints of PruCan because this pairing is cute to think about too

Everybody told me 2nd year in medschool was going to be the hardest as it was the year covering diseases. I underestimated my ability to understand medical terminology just because I was somewhat fluent in English. NOPE! Bad mistake on my part!

So as I am a garbage of a person, I am celebrating the fact that I got through that school year relatively intact and now promoted to 3rd year with this story that has been long planned out but just now being typed down.

Hope you enjoy~

Secret Affairs (Entry 25)

121. Quick

"Howard! To Magic's Haven! QUICK!" Arthur shouted, sounding as frazzled as he looked.

The 10th generation PA of the personification of England didn't even pause to ask why.

He knew that if Master Kirkland sounded this worried, he should be worried too as there are only a few things that truly agitates and worries the Englishman like this.

Master Kirkland had always called Mr. Potter's manor as "our home" - a title that by now has always been unconsciously done. "Magic's Haven" was only ever used when dramatic or serious things had happened and, for a moment, the blond had forgotten that it was his home too. Howard just hoped nothing bad had happened to Mr. Potter.

122. Impressions

Kaoru didn't know what to think of Mr. Potter.

In the number of times that he had met the café owner, Kaoru (who was skilled in the art of judging a person's character through a glance) was stumped by this anomaly of a man.

He was easygoing and sociable, except there was a hyperawareness that spoke of deep mistrust. He looked completely relaxed and at ease except he so easily fell into a battle-ready stance when something makes him the slightest bit tense. His voice was soft and soothing except underneath his dulcet tenor was a commanding tone that was used to being followed. His eyes were warm and expressive except there was a smoothness at the corners that spoke of how seldom they used to be that way before now.

He was genuine in action, yet there was something about him that said he always hadn't been. And that in itself was a strange thought as he looked to be about 25. And, yeah, Kaoru had no right to judge as he also looked younger than what his true age should suggest, but Mr. Potter was human when compared to him.

But despite being an enigma that Kaoru had difficulty in unraveling, Mr. Potter is a good man, that he is sure of.

After all, only a good man would set aside an extra slice of strawberry shortcake for the personification of Hong Kong.

123. Loony

"You're a nation."

Gilbert didn't even get the chance to deny the accusations –much less gawk– as the blonde flounced away from his table and towards the counter, singing the "Stereotype Song"* while her husband (well, he thinks he's her husband; he could be her keeper from the asylum, for all he knew) followed behind her, smiling apologetically.

"It's alright. I got that from her too."

Twice in one day?! How could the awesome (former) Prussian Empire be caught off guard twice?!

Matthew simply ignored the German's ("Verdammt**! It's Prussian, you scheiße***!") complaints and continued chewing on his Scottish pancakes (which, in the Canadian's opinion, was good, but not as good as his).

This was the third time Matthew had bumped into Mrs. Luna Longbottom and her husband Neville (with the first incident including her children). And he'd learned to roll with whatever she was saying, party because it was the undeniable truth, and partly because he wanted to avoid the headache he was sure he would get in attempting to reason with her.

(Because that's how the former Lovegood…do.)

124. Depend

Harry, as much as he was good at cooking/duelling/flying/etc., was equally bad at a few things. Chess was one (he can think of a plan on the fly and have it work out of 'sheer dumb luck' – but give him time to strategize and it's guaranteed to go wrong). Dancing was another (not the age old, horizontal one though, Arthur could attest to that). Accepting help? His worst, right next to keeping out of trouble.

It took a lot of time and effort for Arthur to get it through his lover's head that, even though he was the Master of Death, he was still human, though an immortal one. Eventually though, the shame of receiving and even asking for help slowly went away with every time Arthur turned to look at all paperwork/meetings/interviews, not with sympathy but with understanding and acceptance, which seemed to help even more after Harry had undergone the ritual.

"Harry love, sleep," chided the blond, pecking Harry gently on the nose before snuggling further onto his chest.

The immortal wizard smiled at his sleepy partner. "Anything you say, dear…."

And maybe it wasn't such a bad thing having Arthur fuss over him.

125. Protector

Scar's past, so parallel to a certain darkheaded wizard's, was difficult.

Out of his litter, he had been considered the runt, too small to be worth anything, too sickly to live past his first winter. Surviving on his own in the cold, cruel streets proved otherwise. He learned to hunt, scavenge and create traps. He discovered the vulnerable parts of predators, and exploited them with vicious vigor. He knew where to hide, where to hunt, where to eavesdrop, and where to sleep without having to keep one eye open. He became what everyone thought he'd never amount to.

By the time he grew into his feline predator instincts –enough to prove his worth to his family– he found out they had been hunted down by the coyotes that lived near the city border, killing them one by one until only the newest litter (his youngest siblings) were left to fend for themselves. And as cruel Fate would have, he came too late to save them, only arriving in time to see the dark green eyes of his newly discovered sister grow blank as the pack of coyotes tore her apart.

It was then that he decided to play the role of the protector, his first act of 'heroism' being protecting the box of abandoned pups and kittens. He never wanted to be helpless again.

And now that he had family, he had an even greater reason to be stronger. He had to be.

*Stereotype Song - by myfavoritemartians

Translations:
**verdammt - damn it
***scheiße - sh*t

So I just Google Translated that stuff because I have no idea how to speak German. If I used it wrong, please tell me. :) I should announce that I don't have a beta reader (gdi none of my friends are willing to read this story because we're all too busy reading other books) so if I have any mistakes be it in grammar or format or whatever, give me a PM and I'll try to fix it.

The Stereotype Song is actually so wonderfully descriptive and racist AF that I find it entertaining. I also just finished transferring all the drabble entries into a different notebook so now I can keep track of just wth I have been writing. Expect in the next few days for some updates because I will try to dump as many new entries as I can before classes start up again (omg junior clerkship wth am I thinking) which is jUST A WEEK AWAY TF MY BREAK IS SO SHORT I HAVEN'T RECOVERED YET.

Thanks so much for putting up with my sporadic updates! See you guys in Entry 26.