DISCLAIMER: Characters mentioned in this fic belong to JK Rowling. I made no profit in the writing of this fic.

WARNINGS: AU, slash, Mpreg, very slight sexual content

PAIRING: Harry?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A reviewer was kind enough to inadvertently remind me that I hadn't listed what the two songs mentioned in this fic are. My bad! "Dawn of a New Day" is by In Flames, from their Reroute to Remain album. "The Warmth" is by Incubus, from the Make Yourself album. Both are pretty good, and both have a definite style that separates them from the crowd. I verily suggest anyone to check out these two bands if you haven't heard of them!

When I Met Him
Capricious Purple Clarity

I didn't rightly know how I ended up there, at a small, little known pub miles away from Little Whinging, Surrey. I suppose I needed an out, a reason to leave, to get away from the Dursleys and the constant watch and life in general. I needed to be away, to go where no one would recognize me, where I was just another face in the crowd, another angst-ridden teenager with a chip weighing on my shoulder who just wanted to find release, at least for a short while. It was probably very irresponsible of me -okay, scratch that, it was very irresponsible of me to leave the magical protection my mother's blood had to offer me.

I just didn't care. There wasn't a reason to.

I lost myself in the tight atmosphere of the pub, with beautiful men and women writhing seductively on the dance floor to a haunting melody with sultry words that reverberated throughout the pub. I hated it; hated that I couldn't lose myself as that faceless mass had, hated that I didn't know how to let loose and just join the glorified rutting against a strange body. It all seemed so terribly intimate, so terribly foreign to me. I didn't even let people I trusted get as close to me as some of these strangers were to one another -how could they let their guard down like that? But then that just reminded me that, no, Potter, your life isn't normal and you best bloody well get used to casting suspicious looks over your shoulder until the day you die.

A depressing thought.

I'd almost decided to just leave, leave and forget that silly notion of ever yearning to pretend that I belong anywhere -be it the wizarding or muggle worlds- when I felt eyes on me. The eyes... the feeling of someone looking at me, attempting to study me in a curious manner besides awe or amazement that I was the Boy Who Lived or the disgust that I was the freak... it was a queer feeling. It didn't take long for me to search out who my admirer was -he stood across the room, away from the wriggling mass of dancers as I was. In the dim lighting of the pub, I couldn't tell what color eyes he had, just that they were light, wide and fairly almond shaped, outlined with a thick line of kohl (which I thought odd, for a boy). His hair was dark, which looked odd -it took me a moment to decide why his hair looked so odd, but after noticing the fairness of his shapely eyebrows, I realized it couldn't be his natural hair color at all. A shock of light hair fell around the shape of his oval face, clear of any spots at all.

He was... handsome wasn't the word. Beautiful? Gorgeous. I never thought of boys as gorgeous, but he was it.

And then his eyes softened, like he'd made a decision of some kind, and he was moving toward me. Watching him walk across the room, deftly dodging an enthusiastic dancer, was like watching water flow. He didn't walk, really -he glided, as if he were constantly on the balls of his feet, his arms swaying by his sides slightly. The sight of his gliding both awed and amused me; it was the kind of gait girls wished reverently for, and the way I'd seen those Veela at the Quidditch World Cup walk.

When he stopped in front of me, completely still, I realized that for some odd reason, I'd found myself holding my breath. I met his eyes -mysterious eyes- and looked at him questioningly.

He smiled lightly. "You look as bored as I feel." What a peculiar accent, I mused. Very clearly American, but a certain kind of dialect I couldn't rightly put my finger on. American accents tended to sound very bland to me -but not his; his was rich and seemed to vibrate with life and warmth. His voice was low and sultry, yet still heard above the music. His tone was airy and light, tinged with something else I couldn't put my finger on.

"Probably because I am as bored as you feel," I replied after a moment. His smile widened slightly.

"My friends thought it would be a good idea if I got out of my hotel room for a while," the boy responded with a slightly exasperated roll of his eyes. "They told me brooding isn't an admirable trait. Do you mind if I share this wall with you?"

"Of course not," I replied, and he sort of walked to my side and casually leaned a shoulder against the wall, his body turned to me. "Why are you brooding?"

At first I thought maybe I shouldn't have asked that because the boy lost his smile for a moment. Then he smirked bitterly and replied, "I'm visiting family. They're always worth a good brood."

"I live with my aunt and uncle in Little Whinging," I said with a shrug. "They hate me. I don't blame you for not wanting to be around your family."

"I was removed from my parents custody when I was a baby," the boy said, a shrug matching mine. "It's them I'm visiting. They make me feel sick."

I thought maybe I should say something -an apology for bringing it up, an apology that he had parents he didn't like, parents that apparently didn't know how to care for a child- but nothing came out, and I remained silent.

"Do you want to step outside?" he asked, waving to the entrance of the club. "It's stifling as fuck in here, isn't it? I'm desperate for a smoke."

"What about your friends?"

The boy grinned. "Oh, they don't even know I've left the hotel, do they. They wanted me to get out more, and I have done. Just cause I decided to go it alone doesn't mean much."

I laughed at his cavalier bearing and -perhaps a reckless move on my part- decided that I would follow this odd boy outside. The air was cool and refreshing, the night dark despite the evenly spaced street lamps that lined either side of the street. The boy entered the basking glow of one of the street lamps, and I had to marvel for a moment. His hair, dark like I had thought, was a rich, dark purple, the locks framing his face a striking pink. His eyes were limpid mercury pools of seething emotions as he pulled a crumpled pack of fags from his back pocket. He slipped the butt of one cigarette between his teeth and drew it out with hardly a sound before he brought a Zippo from the depths of one pocket to quickly light the end. A flash of ember, and the Zippo disappeared back into his pocket.

It was a comfortable silence between us -he leaning casually against the lamp post while I stood to the side, both of us looking out into the nearly deserted street, the music from the pub muffled from the outside. He smoked while, with half an eye on him, I kept a cautious eye on our surroundings. Just because I didn't care about what happened to me, I'd decided, was no reason to put my new (and most likely temporary) friend in the line of fire.

"Do you ever feel like breaking out into song?" he asked suddenly, not even looking at me as he dragged on his fag contemplatively. "Just... find a theme song to fit your day, sing it, and feel charged up because it makes you feel better?"

"I haven't had much chance to listen to music," I admitted with a small shrug.

"That's unfortunate," the boy said absently. He flickered a quick, bitter grin my way. "That might just be me though, huh. I'm a Capricorn -we Capricorns love music. Would you like me to sing you something?"

I tilted my head to the side. Sing for me? It wasn't really something I remember someone doing for me, ever. "If you'd like."

He waited for a moment, clearing his throat of the smoke before he opened his mouth and began singing a song I'd never heard before. His voice was melodious and low, almost sultry... like how he looked.

"The thoughts from yesterday forgotten,
I like the way this new skin feels.
Bring me splinters of tomorrow.
Collect the parts where I win.

Against the grain
Against the odds
I'll rise
And I won't trip again.
The dawn of a new day
Never looked as good as this.

Concrete breath and dust filled tears
A one way ride to inner peace.
I never thought I'd join the others
Those who use the dice to solve.

Against the grain
Against the odds
I'll rise
And I won't trip again.

Against the grain
Against the odds
I'll rise
And I won't trip again.
The dawn of a new day
Never looked as good as this."

He bowed his head for a moment, silence filling the space between us. After a moment, he admitted softly, "It's my theme song. For now. It's been going around in my head ever since I saw my father this morning."

"I'm glad you sang it to me," I said quietly. "It sounds like a theme song worth having." After a moment of pondering -should I?- I admitted, "You have a very nice voice."

"Thank you," he said with another grin. He flicked the butt of his spent cigarette out in the street and casually shoved his hands in his pocket, peering at me through the fringe of his shocking pink hair. "I'm happy to say I'll be leaving back for Jersey tomorrow morning. I'm not staying for -well, I'm not sticking around here. Would you like to walk with me back to my hotel? It's just down the street."

"Walk with me" turned into "stay the night" once the boy lead me to his inn, where he stayed in a single room by himself. We both knew what we wanted -comfort. Someone to make us feel, someone to feel. Our lovemaking was passionate and gentle; sounds of soft sighs and small moans were audible above the soft music playing in the background. He was patient where I was obviously naive. Once we were spent of our passion, we curled into one another and I closed my eyes, falling into -for once- a dreamless sleep.

When I woke it was already noon, and the bed was empty save for me. On the pillow beside me there was a folded sheet of paper addressing me as "Green Eyes". Underneath the sheet of paper was a CD player with winding headphones. When I unfolded the note, the letter was somewhat short, but sweet.

Dear Green Eyes,

I'll never forget that you made this obviously disastrous trip less of a disaster and more of a good thing, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Consider the CD a gift to you -perhaps you'll find a theme song that will repeat in your head one day, and it'll give you that much more strength to deal with the troubles life happens to throw your way.

I'm deeply sorry that I could not stay long enough to greet your waking. I do not have the heart to wake you from your obviously peaceful dreams -something that, from the dark circles under your eyes, is a novelty to you. As I write this now, my plane leaves in an hour, and I've already had my uncle come to my door wondering what is taking me so long.

I hope we'll meet again.

Always,

Drake

I felt... light. Less burdened. Suddenly everything mattered again, only it wasn't so stifling because somewhere, somehow, I'd drudged up enough confidence to assure myself that everything would be all right in the end. Sirius was still gone, and I still had to remain with the Dursleys, and Voldemort was still panting for my demise. However, somewhere there was a shining confidence, a sure hope that in the end, I would still be left standing, and after that nothing could bring me down. I had friends that would go to the ends of the earth for me, and I them -I had a whole bloody support system to get me through this. I could do it.

I had to do it.

I saw the display on the CD player blinking repeatedly. I placed the headphones over my ears and pressed the play button, reclining against the headboard as I closed my eyes, sheets pooled at my waist as the music lulled me into relaxation. I found myself smiling when I recognized the words entwined with the hypnotizing chords from the guitars and the slow roll of the drums.

"The thoughts from yesterday forgotten,
I like the way this new skin feels.
Bring me splinters of tomorrow.
Collect the parts where I win..."

A year later I found myself immersed in the largest battle in wizarding Britain history. The battle had taken it's toll on me -tired, dirty, and bleeding, I couldn't fathom how I could possibly take down the looming figure of the Dark Lord before me. For all of a second it was like my entire struggle to live, to survive, to protect had been in vain... until, out of nowhere, the faint thrums of music echoed in my memory.

I'd like to close my eyes and go numb,
But there's a cold wind coming from
The top of the highest high-rise today.
It's not a breeze cause it blows hard.
Yes, and it wants me to discard
The humanity I know, watch the warmth blow away.

I grit my teeth and slowly straightened my spine, staring defiantly at the great Dark Lord Voldemort, ignoring the throbbing pain in my scar, ignoring the sounds of chaos and confusion around me. Voldemort -my past, my present. But the monster would never be my future... No, I had too much to hope for, too much that I hadn't had a chance to experience yet for him to be my future, no matter how short or distant the end was to come. I slowly lifted my wand to him, ignoring his roaring laughter, his obvious amusement that, battle after battle, I still had so much fight left in me. I didn't listen to his words when he spoke, too busy with the music that seemed to be thrumming through my very bloodstream, energizing me more and more as he spoke. His words were nothing to me -there was only determination and music left for me then.

Do you think I should adhere
To that pressing new frontier
And leave in my wake a trail of fear?
Or should I hold my head up high
And throw a wrench in spokes by,
Leaving the air behind me clear?

"Prepare for your downfall, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed, whipping his wand up suddenly and spitting out a vile-sounding hex. I easily threw up a shield and, after the flash of his spell vanished, I sent a nameless hex his way.

So don't let the world bring you down.
Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold.
Remember why you came and while you're alive,
Experience the warmth before you grow old.
Before you grow old...

Then, finally, he roared, "Avada Kedavra!" the same moment I did, and the strains of our matching green light clashed, battling furiously against one another as brother wand went against brother wand. Prior Incantantum occurred once again, but this time I was expecting it. Spells, the shades of victim after victim, horrifying screams, victim, screams -all emitted from his wand until finally there came Cedric Diggory and Bertha Jenkins and the muggle man and then Mum and Dad... More came, and the victims of his wand rallied silently behind me. I dared not look at them, afraid to break my concentration, too soon to look that way... Out of the corner of my eye I saw my father stand proudly at my side, a hand hovering over my shoulder as if he wished he could touch me, give me some form of physical comfort. My mother stood on my other side, close enough to me that, if she were alive, I could have felt her warmth.

"You can do it, Harry," Mum murmured close to my ear.

"We love you, Harry," Dad said, his voice filled with pride.

"I believe in you, Harry," I heard Cedric say.

"We all believe in you, Harry Potter," the semi-familiar voice of Bertha Jenkins added. Soon all of them were murmuring encouragements. With one last cry, I gritted my teeth together and forced everything I had into one last push, watching triumphantly as my beam of unforgiving green light overpowered Voldemort's. The monster had no time to react when my green light swallowed him whole and he turned to dust where he stood, his once filled robes crumpling to the ground in a cloud of dust.

So tired was I that I hardly noticed when I fell to my knees, spent and exhausted. I heard my mother whisper, "Rest now, Harry. You've earned it." I tipped forward and fell listlessly to the ground, my glasses having disappeared some time ago. I barely gave unconsciousness a passing thought, the very faint echos of the end of that song reverberating through my mind...

Time to grow old...

"And how are my little Lorie and Journ today, huh? How're my little troublemakers?" cooed a blond boy, his fingers gently digging into the sides of two green-eyed babies who giggled infectiously at the attention bestowed upon them by their honorary uncle.

"Have you decided to talk to me now?" asked the boy whose hair was in dire need of a root job, watching in amusement as the blond flipped him off guilelessly.

"I'm still mad as hell you won't let me beat the snot out of the guy who left you high and dry, cuz," the blond answered with a snort. To the babies, he cooed, "Your daddy's such an immature idiot, my little darlings. Yes, he is!"

"I would like to insist yet again that I was the one who initiated intercourse," the boy pointed out logically. "He's muggle, Sin. He had no idea our actions could have led to me getting pregnant. I didn't even know what little Veela I have in me could lead to this. He's as guilty as I am."

His cousin glanced at him, his knowledgeable grey eyes filled with amused irritation. "Bet you don't regret it at all, do you, Drake?"

Drake smiled softly, looking down at his newborn children, love and affection filling his heart. Both had his light blond hair, both had the same bright green eyes as the lover he'd never forget. "Of course not, Sin. How could I regret anything that brought my precious babies to life?"

A dark-haired boy with azure blue eyes smirked wittingly as he glanced at the two babies lying side by side in their shared crib, kicking tiny, chubby legs in the air. "You know you'll have to look up Mr. Mystery Man someday, Drake. You'll feel like an utter heel for eternity if you won't be able to tell him that your summer fling brought about consequences."

"Of course I will," Drake promised firmly, lifting his precious little daughter from the crib when she emitted a soft whimper. He hugged her to his chest, careful to support her neck as she laid her head against his shoulder. "Everyone deserves a chance at parenthood, Will. I don't know how I'll explain it to a muggle, though -I just hope he doesn't shun his children because of who I am, and the likelihood of his children being magical themselves."

"If he does," Sin said hopefully, "then can I beat the snot out of him?"

"Dude," Will shook his head with a chortle, "you never give up, you know that? Tenacious little moron."

"You'd be one step ahead of me and you know it," Sin retort with a good-natured punch against Will's shoulder. Drake sent them both stern looks, shushing them quietly as he laid a sleeping Valorie beside the slumbering Journey, waving them to the open door of the nursery. Sin and Will silently filed out, pausing at the doorway to look at Drake smiling dreamily down at his slumbering children. Both could tell he was now quite smitten with the prospect of being a father -not at all like the nervous wreck the boy started off being when he found out he was pregnant. It was obvious that after the turmoil with his own parents, he fell into the roll of fatherhood comfortably, as if it were a second skin.

With one last look, he turned back to his friends and began to leave the nursery, a smile on his lips, a skip to his step, and the faint hum of a song echoing in his throat.

The thoughts from yesterday forgotten,
I like the way this new skin feels.
Bring me splinters of tomorrow.
Collect the parts where I win.

Against the grain
Against the odds
I'll rise
And I won't trip again.
The dawn of a new day
Never looked as good as this.

Ta-DA!

Okay, so obviously, I'm not just going to leave it there. This is more of a teaser for what's to come.

As a general warning, this is a complete AU from the original Harry Potter books. You'll find out why it's AU soon enough.

Watch out for the next installment to this series, based five years later. It'll be titled "He Was Just A Boy." I'll leave you with this little teaser... you know, in hopes that you'll grow a little excited for what's to come... .

Green eyes.

Sin knew those green eyes. Such a distinguishing, bright green that seemed fathoms deep. Those were the same green eyes of a little girl who stared up at him, silently begging for please, just one more chocolate frog. Those were the same green eyes of a little boy who peered up at him through a blond fringe in hopes of another story before bedtime. The same green eyes that Drake used to address his one-time lover by... the first and last lover Drake ever had.

With the green eyes came the rest of him. The man had Journey's nose and Valorie's mouth... or would it be that Valorie had his mouth and Journey had his nose? In any case, the more he looked at this dark-haired man with the heavy green eyes shadowed by dark thoughts, the more he saw his honorary niece and nephew in his face. And Sin couldn't stop himself from thinking, quite maniacally, All right! Looks like there's going to be a little ass kicking before the night ends after all!

When Will saw the almost giddy glint of violence in his friend's glittering silver eyes, saw just what unfortunate soul was the receiver of such a look, (Could that be Drake's Green Eyes?) he couldn't help but to, for once in his life, be the responsible one. "Now, Sin... Now, Sin, let's not jump to conclusions here..." And when the look didn't let up, he found himself pitying the poor bastard just a little.

No good ever came from that look in Sin's eyes.

Ciao, duckses!

Capricious Purple Clarity