DISCLAIMER:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN: This is an AU-story.
It may become very dark and it contains mentions of torture and death, and as it is an story for adult, it contains mentions of sexual relations - but non-violant ones and nothing explicite as this is not NC-17, but R. If I decide to write something like non-con, I will mention it in the AN of the corresponding chapter. Please read the AN's!
Includes character deaths (at least in the following chapters). Don't read it if you don't think you can bear that.
It also includes mentions of the Islamic religion and the holy qu'ran.
I don't really know everything about this religion, even if I am very interested in it (because I have worked in an office of an tour operator for pilgrims to Mecca and Medina and met very nice people who very strong in their believes - it was really impressive)
Please excuse me if something I wrote offends you, it is not my intention at all.
The mentions of violence used against women or children in the tribe which I wrote are *not* due to this religion, but to a horrible *tradition*, which is a major difference.
Please excuse my poor Englisch - I know that I am in bad need of a good beta-reader, but until I've found one, you will have either to bear with the mistakes or simply not read it.
I really like reviews, constructive criticism is highly appreciated - but I cannot take flamers seriously.
###########
Chapter 1: Mysterious Husband
Sometimes, Shayla wondered about her husband. He was a good, kind man - he was never angry or impatient, and he'd never beaten her or the children. First she'd been very afraid to marry someone from so far away, but she had had not much of a choice. Her father had arranged the marriage. Today, she was grateful that she didn't run away (she'd really considered that), but he had been so understanding.
In her wedding night she'd been trembling of fear, and he had simply embraced her and told her in soothing words that she needn't be afraid, that he would never hurt her. Due to their traditions, they had to fullfill the marriage tonight, and in the morning the bloody blanket would be shown to the tribe, to confirm that the bride had been a virgin.
But it had been different - he had cut his arm and put his blood on the blankets, than he had smiled at her and said: "We'll do that when you know me better. You needn't be afraid, my wife."
And he had pullled her trembling form into his arms and she'd slept in his arms peacefully.
It had been three months until he had slept with her for the first time, and by this time she had already been in love with him.
That had been 10 years ago and she was still happy in her marriage, but some things about him were still an enigma to her.
She knew almost nothing about his past life in the far away country England, and sometimes he awoke screaming words she didn't understand because she had never learned his tongue. And then there were days when he was silent and melancholic, deeply in thought, and she asked herself what he might be remembering. But she never asked, because that would have been inappropriate given the fact that he seemed to avoid mentioning anything of his past.
Her only hope was that someday she would be told the reasons for his deep sadness and the terrible pain she saw in his eyes on those day.
They had two children - Fatiha Lilian and Karim James. People sometimes wondered about the second given names, especially because of the fact that her husband looked almost like one of their tribe, only his eyes betrayed his foreign roots, because they were green as the leafs of a palm tree.
And he spoke Arabic like one of them, and shared their traditions and habits. He fit in perfectly - nobody who didn't knew that he was a foreigner could have told.
And yet - when Shalya thought about that she had to admit that their were signs that he was entirely different. He was respectful against anyone, he treated even the young girls with respect. he never shouted orders, but merely asked them for favours.
And when they were alone, he would speak to him as if she was equal. It had been frightening for her at the beginning.
He had asked her if she agreed with the buy of a jeep and she'd been literally shocked.
And it would have caused even more peculiar thoughts in her ('Didn't he see her, respect her as a woman? Was he one of those strange men, she'd heard of who prefered their own gender?) if he hadn't shown her every night that he desired her, a womans body, and although he was tender and careful, he was strong and dominant as a man in the the tribe would have been.
***
The last night had been a terrible one. One of his nightmares, but it had been this horrible before. She had tried to wake him up, but couldn't, and he had screamed one of the few words of his language she had learned: "No...!" and other words she didn't understand. After what seemed an eternity he had woken up and vomited, his hands clutched at his forehead, as if in terrible pain.
She cooled his forehead with a wet towel - something he would only allow when he felt very ill - due to the constant shortness of water in this desert.
And he had not said a word, only stared at the ceiling of their tent. He was thinking hard, had a that grave expression at his face that she didn't dare to interrupt his line of thoughts.
Shayla had never seem him that serious, and it frightened her deeply.
And then, suddenly, he had broken the silence, and said something, but more to himself than to her: "It can't be... It... He's dead. I killed him...."
'Whom did you kill?" Shayla couldn't keep herself from asking anymore.
And he had looked at her with his normally sparkling, now dull, green eyes, as if he had never seen her before, and whispered: "A devil. I killed a devil before he could kill me like he had killed my parents...."
Shayla shuddered. His voice was not recogneizable as that of her husband and he had suddenly a strong, strange accent.
"Your parents have been killed?" she asked cautiously.
He closed his eyes shortly and when he opened them again, she could see a new determination in them: "Shayla, I... I never told you much about my past, and I'm thankful that you've never asked me. But now you have to learn some things, because I will have to go back and I will leave it to you if you want to accompany me or stay with the tribe. But... it is possible that I will not be able to return. "
She almost fainted, and tried to kiss his hands, cowering in front of him: "Please, tell me, did I do something wrong? How have I caused your anger?" Her voice shook and she struggled with tears.
He urged her to go up and kissed her gently, afterwords he pulled her in a soothing embrace and whispered: "You've done nothing, Shayla. You are a wonderful woman. You've been my wife and my friend, mother of my children and my lover and I dearly love you. Because of you I have a family, something I never really had before." He paused and continued then: "But if the devil has risen again, he will be after me and everyone who is dear to me. And my friends and many other people there in my home country will be in grave danger. As well as you and the children if you stay with me."
"What kind of danger could we possibly be in?" She shivered at the thought of someone who could endanger that many people - someone who made her husband, a courageous man, tremble and scream in his sleep...
He gulped and bit his lips. "I hope you will not leave me after I told you this, Shayla, because you are not aware of something about me. Your family - everyone of the tribe - would be furious if they ever learned about my true... identity. So, the only thing I ask you to do is to listen me once, and then decide if you yet wish to stay my wife. I will not take Karim or Fatiha from you, don't be afraid of that. They belong in the desert, to the bedouins."
She nodded with wide eyes.
"I don't know how to tell you... but... I am a wizard, Shayla."
She involuntarily shrank back All her life she had only heard that magic - all magic - was dark and not after Allahs wishes. And now he - her husband, the kindest man on earth - was telling her that he was a magician?
"Please, let me explain, Shayla. There are two kinds of magic - one part of it is dark magic, and one part is light. My parents were fighters against the dark side and it was an evil, dark wizard who killed them when I was only 1 year old... I survived only because of a miracle - my mothers love had given me a protection, so that he, the dark wizard was killed by his own curse that he had directed at me."
He trembled, she saw it and it frightened her horribly, but he continued speaking: "He returned ... and I have been fighting him in one form or the other, since my 11th year. When I was 18, I managed to destroy him - or so, I thought. It was a war, and many died on both sides. I just couldn't bear the memories, the constant reminders of the dead and the tortured anymore, and I decided to leave everything and everyone I knew to begin a new life. I travelled a lot and when I came to Saudi-Arabia, I found my way to Allah. I changed my name... And... The rest you know."
She only stared at him in disbelieve: "You... are a magician - a *good* magician? How can you be a magician - and *good*?"
Her husband sighed: "I found nothing in the holy qu'ran that told me that I was evil just for doing magic or being a wizard. I am a good, a light wizard, because my intentions with which I used my abilities are good. A wise man once told me that it doesn't matter what we are, but what choices we make. I've made my choice to fight against evil. I've made it and I can't see why it should be disrespect against Allah to do good."
Slowly, Shayla nodded. His words made sense. But fear grew constantly in her hear: "Karim, you - you won't push me away from you, will you?"
He shook his head, smiling a thin smile: " Of course not, although it might be better for you and the children.
She was incredibly relieved, and gave him a kiss. He carressed her back and a long silence followed, until she suddenly broke it: "You... you said you'd changed your name? What... what was your name before it?"
She felt him gulping, and then he answered: "Harry Potter. Harry James Potter."
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN: This is an AU-story.
It may become very dark and it contains mentions of torture and death, and as it is an story for adult, it contains mentions of sexual relations - but non-violant ones and nothing explicite as this is not NC-17, but R. If I decide to write something like non-con, I will mention it in the AN of the corresponding chapter. Please read the AN's!
Includes character deaths (at least in the following chapters). Don't read it if you don't think you can bear that.
It also includes mentions of the Islamic religion and the holy qu'ran.
I don't really know everything about this religion, even if I am very interested in it (because I have worked in an office of an tour operator for pilgrims to Mecca and Medina and met very nice people who very strong in their believes - it was really impressive)
Please excuse me if something I wrote offends you, it is not my intention at all.
The mentions of violence used against women or children in the tribe which I wrote are *not* due to this religion, but to a horrible *tradition*, which is a major difference.
Please excuse my poor Englisch - I know that I am in bad need of a good beta-reader, but until I've found one, you will have either to bear with the mistakes or simply not read it.
I really like reviews, constructive criticism is highly appreciated - but I cannot take flamers seriously.
###########
Chapter 1: Mysterious Husband
Sometimes, Shayla wondered about her husband. He was a good, kind man - he was never angry or impatient, and he'd never beaten her or the children. First she'd been very afraid to marry someone from so far away, but she had had not much of a choice. Her father had arranged the marriage. Today, she was grateful that she didn't run away (she'd really considered that), but he had been so understanding.
In her wedding night she'd been trembling of fear, and he had simply embraced her and told her in soothing words that she needn't be afraid, that he would never hurt her. Due to their traditions, they had to fullfill the marriage tonight, and in the morning the bloody blanket would be shown to the tribe, to confirm that the bride had been a virgin.
But it had been different - he had cut his arm and put his blood on the blankets, than he had smiled at her and said: "We'll do that when you know me better. You needn't be afraid, my wife."
And he had pullled her trembling form into his arms and she'd slept in his arms peacefully.
It had been three months until he had slept with her for the first time, and by this time she had already been in love with him.
That had been 10 years ago and she was still happy in her marriage, but some things about him were still an enigma to her.
She knew almost nothing about his past life in the far away country England, and sometimes he awoke screaming words she didn't understand because she had never learned his tongue. And then there were days when he was silent and melancholic, deeply in thought, and she asked herself what he might be remembering. But she never asked, because that would have been inappropriate given the fact that he seemed to avoid mentioning anything of his past.
Her only hope was that someday she would be told the reasons for his deep sadness and the terrible pain she saw in his eyes on those day.
They had two children - Fatiha Lilian and Karim James. People sometimes wondered about the second given names, especially because of the fact that her husband looked almost like one of their tribe, only his eyes betrayed his foreign roots, because they were green as the leafs of a palm tree.
And he spoke Arabic like one of them, and shared their traditions and habits. He fit in perfectly - nobody who didn't knew that he was a foreigner could have told.
And yet - when Shalya thought about that she had to admit that their were signs that he was entirely different. He was respectful against anyone, he treated even the young girls with respect. he never shouted orders, but merely asked them for favours.
And when they were alone, he would speak to him as if she was equal. It had been frightening for her at the beginning.
He had asked her if she agreed with the buy of a jeep and she'd been literally shocked.
And it would have caused even more peculiar thoughts in her ('Didn't he see her, respect her as a woman? Was he one of those strange men, she'd heard of who prefered their own gender?) if he hadn't shown her every night that he desired her, a womans body, and although he was tender and careful, he was strong and dominant as a man in the the tribe would have been.
***
The last night had been a terrible one. One of his nightmares, but it had been this horrible before. She had tried to wake him up, but couldn't, and he had screamed one of the few words of his language she had learned: "No...!" and other words she didn't understand. After what seemed an eternity he had woken up and vomited, his hands clutched at his forehead, as if in terrible pain.
She cooled his forehead with a wet towel - something he would only allow when he felt very ill - due to the constant shortness of water in this desert.
And he had not said a word, only stared at the ceiling of their tent. He was thinking hard, had a that grave expression at his face that she didn't dare to interrupt his line of thoughts.
Shayla had never seem him that serious, and it frightened her deeply.
And then, suddenly, he had broken the silence, and said something, but more to himself than to her: "It can't be... It... He's dead. I killed him...."
'Whom did you kill?" Shayla couldn't keep herself from asking anymore.
And he had looked at her with his normally sparkling, now dull, green eyes, as if he had never seen her before, and whispered: "A devil. I killed a devil before he could kill me like he had killed my parents...."
Shayla shuddered. His voice was not recogneizable as that of her husband and he had suddenly a strong, strange accent.
"Your parents have been killed?" she asked cautiously.
He closed his eyes shortly and when he opened them again, she could see a new determination in them: "Shayla, I... I never told you much about my past, and I'm thankful that you've never asked me. But now you have to learn some things, because I will have to go back and I will leave it to you if you want to accompany me or stay with the tribe. But... it is possible that I will not be able to return. "
She almost fainted, and tried to kiss his hands, cowering in front of him: "Please, tell me, did I do something wrong? How have I caused your anger?" Her voice shook and she struggled with tears.
He urged her to go up and kissed her gently, afterwords he pulled her in a soothing embrace and whispered: "You've done nothing, Shayla. You are a wonderful woman. You've been my wife and my friend, mother of my children and my lover and I dearly love you. Because of you I have a family, something I never really had before." He paused and continued then: "But if the devil has risen again, he will be after me and everyone who is dear to me. And my friends and many other people there in my home country will be in grave danger. As well as you and the children if you stay with me."
"What kind of danger could we possibly be in?" She shivered at the thought of someone who could endanger that many people - someone who made her husband, a courageous man, tremble and scream in his sleep...
He gulped and bit his lips. "I hope you will not leave me after I told you this, Shayla, because you are not aware of something about me. Your family - everyone of the tribe - would be furious if they ever learned about my true... identity. So, the only thing I ask you to do is to listen me once, and then decide if you yet wish to stay my wife. I will not take Karim or Fatiha from you, don't be afraid of that. They belong in the desert, to the bedouins."
She nodded with wide eyes.
"I don't know how to tell you... but... I am a wizard, Shayla."
She involuntarily shrank back All her life she had only heard that magic - all magic - was dark and not after Allahs wishes. And now he - her husband, the kindest man on earth - was telling her that he was a magician?
"Please, let me explain, Shayla. There are two kinds of magic - one part of it is dark magic, and one part is light. My parents were fighters against the dark side and it was an evil, dark wizard who killed them when I was only 1 year old... I survived only because of a miracle - my mothers love had given me a protection, so that he, the dark wizard was killed by his own curse that he had directed at me."
He trembled, she saw it and it frightened her horribly, but he continued speaking: "He returned ... and I have been fighting him in one form or the other, since my 11th year. When I was 18, I managed to destroy him - or so, I thought. It was a war, and many died on both sides. I just couldn't bear the memories, the constant reminders of the dead and the tortured anymore, and I decided to leave everything and everyone I knew to begin a new life. I travelled a lot and when I came to Saudi-Arabia, I found my way to Allah. I changed my name... And... The rest you know."
She only stared at him in disbelieve: "You... are a magician - a *good* magician? How can you be a magician - and *good*?"
Her husband sighed: "I found nothing in the holy qu'ran that told me that I was evil just for doing magic or being a wizard. I am a good, a light wizard, because my intentions with which I used my abilities are good. A wise man once told me that it doesn't matter what we are, but what choices we make. I've made my choice to fight against evil. I've made it and I can't see why it should be disrespect against Allah to do good."
Slowly, Shayla nodded. His words made sense. But fear grew constantly in her hear: "Karim, you - you won't push me away from you, will you?"
He shook his head, smiling a thin smile: " Of course not, although it might be better for you and the children.
She was incredibly relieved, and gave him a kiss. He carressed her back and a long silence followed, until she suddenly broke it: "You... you said you'd changed your name? What... what was your name before it?"
She felt him gulping, and then he answered: "Harry Potter. Harry James Potter."