Where it's appropriate: Happy New Year!

I'm sorry this took so long... Holidays in Lockdown are still exhausting. At least to me.
I know, it might seem like I gloss over some parts, but a. I don't want to repeat canon parts we all know and b. this story is supposed to be a little fun and well... Supernatural is all kinds of angsty and sad. Normally, so is my writing, but I'm really trying here :D
Thanks for all the kind messages and on we go!

Fake… Fake… Really real

Dean Winchester was exhausted. And he had every right to be. It had been a really, really long… decade.

The last week in the bunker hoping their crazy, homicidal, pie-stealing guest would finally come out of his room had probably been the most rest he had gotten in ages.

But then, earlier that day, they had gotten the message that Jenna's grandmother had been found murdered in her house and Jenna, young, motivated, caring Jenna had apparently gone on a killing spree, before being killed by police herself.

So he had grabbed the newly powered up Cas and left Sam on Psycho Duty. Harry would probably just need a good talk and Sam's puppy dog eyes to get him out of his funk.

Although it was a funk Dean understood all too well. New powers and the sudden urge to kill people was one thing he sadly knew a whole lot about now.

So Dean and Cas had done the whole FBI routine and probably managed to sneak in before the real feds arrived, but there was nothing much to see. Just a whole lot of blood and no baby Darkness. But, then again, Jenna's grandmother had a crib and clothing out, so they assumed Jenna had started out there. Before possibly losing her soul and deciding murder was great fun.

Dean really hadn't felt like staying in a Motel and since Cas didn't need to sleep, he had actually trusted the Angel to drive for a while and had slept a little. He really was getting soft, but ever since he had gotten his own bed (memory foam!) the Motels had seemed even more crappy.

On their way through town, Cas had woken him up, they had stopped for provisions, donuts for breakfast and, yes, enough pie to share. Now Dean was driving again and itching to get home, get a shower and stretch his legs.

He stopped abruptly.

"Cas. Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Next to him, the Angel narrowed his eyes and slightly tilted his head to the right.

"I would imagine so."

Dean turned the engine off and got out of the car, still staring at the spot where the bunker was supposed to be.

"That's… Cas, that's a house. A frigging house."

"It is.", Cas agreed, "Or rather the illusion of one."

"Illusion?"

"Yes, and it's a really good one at that. I have trouble detecting the bunker beneath the magic. I assume I can only see it, because I know it's there."

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Why am I seeing a frigging house?"

"Harry probably thought it would be useful. The cellar door over there corresponds with the bunker's entry."

"Useful.", Dean parroted, staring at the oddly suburban mailbox proudly claiming 'Campbell'.

"Well, we could speculate. Or we could ask him directly."

"At least he left his room.", Dean groaned, then headed up the porch, suddenly morbidly curious what would happen, if he rang the doorbell.

It turned out: nothing.

He rang again. Inside he could hear some classical melody loudly chime out.

Again, no response.

He just put his finger on the bell continuously.

"Dean, maybe it doesn't actually…", but before Cas could finish, Sam almost ripped the door off its hinges. He wore sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, his hair wild and his eyes red and bleary.

"Dude, what the hell? I can't fly, you know?!"

Dean stared at his little brother with a mixture of amusement and horror.

"Are you… hung over?"

"No.", Sam declared stubbornly.

"You do appear to be slightly…", but Sam cut Cas off, who had followed Dean up the porch.

"I am fine. Just need some coffee."

"Explain the house.", Dean told him instead.

Sam flinched a little, then he noticed the coffees Cas was holding and the bag of donuts in Dean's hand.

"During breakfast?", he asked, making impressive efforts to look like a giant puppy.

"Fine.", Dean grumbled, "Where does this fake hallway in this fake house actually lead to?"

"Our actual kitchen.", Sam shrugged, "Harry thought the way was too long to carry in groceries."

"And we had an easier way ordering Pizza last night.", came Harry's slightly accented voice from behind Sam. Dean really couldn't place that accent. Harry constantly sounded like he was imitating him, Cas and Sam while he spoke so there was really nothing to go by. Probably came with being an old bastard.

"Wait… you guys got drunk and ordered Pizza? To our super secret bunker full of supernatural treasures?!", Dean felt his voice go monotone, unsure of how to react to that.

"Well, that's why we made the house.", Harry told him proudly as they reached the bunker's kitchen, "Now you can get mail and food and all that."

"And travelling salesman?", Dean sighed.

"Noooo, I did a little enchantment. You have to know where to go, to actually WANT to come here. If it makes you nervous, I can modify the delivery guy's memory.", Harry shrugged, like changing someone's memory was an everyday thing.

"Please don't … are those WINDOWS?!"

"Don't worry. They are magical. They show the scenery outside, but no one can look inside or something. I put them in every room. You need light. It's important for your health."

Dean felt like banging his head on the table, but he sat down nonetheless and reached for a donut.

"This is amazing.", Cas declared simply and took a seat. Dean would really like to share that sentiment. Really. It would be so… nice… to catch a break. To have someone like Harry on their side and not go ballistic on them. Cas seemed to think restoring him to his full health meant Harry was trustworthy. Dean knew that Sam still silently suspected Harry might actually be God, come to help with the Darkness. The kid had hope. After the crap fest of the past decade, Dean didn't exactly have faith in ANY higher power. But Sam and Cas had laughed at his hypothesis, so he kept his mouth shut.

"How come you are this chipper, when Sammy here looks like he was run over by a tank?", he asked, trying to process everything around him. Did the kitchen look cleaner? The floor looked… shiny.

"It seems young Sam isn't as able to hold his drink as I am."

Sam groaned, which caused Cas to reach out and carefully place a finger on his head.

"Better?", Cas asked, honest concern in his voice.

"Did you just… heal his hangover?"

"Yes. He was just severely dehydrated, so…"

"Now that you got your mojo back, healing hang-overs is an option?"

"Can you even still get hangovers, Dean?", Sam asked, only half-teasing. Way too close for Dean's comfort.

Harry gave him a thoughtful frown. Oh oh.

"Who cooks around here normally?"

"Well, cook is a pretty word for what we do.", Sam admitted.

Harry's frown deepened.

"Okay. I'll do some shopping later. Stock up on essentials. Any dietary restrictions?"

"Oh come on, are you saying you are going to cook for us?!", maybe it wasn't Sam who had drunk too much. Maybe Dean was passed out somewhere and hallucinating.

"I have you know that I am an EXCELLENT roommate. I clean, do laundry and yes, I cook. The universe would have collapsed before Molly Weasley did not make sure we all knew how to cook."

"Okay. Whatever.", Dean agreed, suddenly feeling exhausted, "Wait. Did you just say Molly Weasley? As in Mrs Weasley? As in Ron's Mum? I fucking KNEW it! I TOLD Sam and Cas that the only Master of Death I had ever heard of was Harry Bloody Potter!"

Harry grinned at him, "Sam told me that, yes."

"It's why we got drunk.", Sam admitted sheepishly, "I made him tell me everything and in exchange I had to tell him about the Supernatural Books."

"Oh no."

"Loved the covers.", Harry wriggled his eyebrows.

"We watched the first couple of movies. Harry has never been in a world where those existed, so…"

"I really needed some Whiskey with that.", this time it was Harry, who looked a little green.

Dean found a small, slightly desperate laugh escaping his mouth. How? How was any of this his life? How was any of this real?!

"Then, I did some cleaning this morning and read the first Supernatural book. That cheered me up."

"Reading about their mother dying was amusing to you?", Cas asked, his voice still perfectly neutral.

Harry's grin left his face, "Of course not. It's just the first time I met someone like me. Whose lives have been turned into books. It's nice not to be the only one, who gets to have their secrets exposed to the world."

"At least your books stop before you have to worry about someone writing about your sex life.", Dean moaned.

"Yeeeeeees, because I really enjoy everyone judging my teenage angst and knowing about my childhood. Woho."

"Wait until you find the Fanfiction."

"I've been in worlds with that before. Wait. Is there… is there fanfiction about you boys?"

"No.", Sam and Dean told him sternly. And simultaneously. Harry's eyes sparkled with obvious mirth.

"Don't worry. First I need to finish the books anyway."

Fine, Dean thought, if this was the price for having the real Harry Potter on their side, he'd take it. Yes, the man could claim whatever and if he was Harry Potter millenia had gone by, since he was the teen they had all read about. Still. Dean felt a little better about their odds now.