Thanks ti Me And My God Complex for the single review.

Chapter 9: Love and Hatred

When Ed woke up, he was lying in his bed. Trouble was, that his bed was now about two times as broad as it had been last time he remembered. He had been shifted to its centre and fastened by alchemised straps-

Except that neither Potter nor Malfoy were Alchemists.

He experimentally tugged on the material and it proved to be very solid. In fact, it didn't allow him any movement at all… His immediate – natural – reaction was anger, but then he realised that the tiniest – whether willing or unwiling – movement caused him so much pain… The anger didn't dissolve, it was merely tinged with expectation and a wee bit of gratefulness that he refused to admit to himself.

Thinking about how did he get into this position, he came to the conclusion that it was due to a rapid loss of consciousness. However, details slipped away… and he wasn't given the chance to chase after them, because Potter chose precisely that moment to come into view.

'Ed…'

'What the… oh.' It was hard to breath. But Edward manage. In the end he always survived and he had been through worse things than being paralysed on his bed by moderately-friendly man who claimed he was a wizard. Now that he remembered that minute information, Ed decided that maybe he was a bit too open-minded for his own good.

Well, you've got to learn to admit obvious things if you want to see another day… even if those obvious things are supposed to be impossible. Ed only ever fully trusted two people in the whole world – one being Alphonse, the other himself. And no matter how many other people told him, proved him, that magic didn't exist, he wasn't an idiot – he believed his own six senses.

Potter's hand rested on his sternum and a moment later he felt much lighter. Breathing became easier again and Edward realised that while he was unconscious Potter removed all the parts of his Automail that weren't fastened. He turned his head – the only part of his body that wasn't held by the straps – to the left, and gasped.

His bed wasn't the only 'broadened' thing. In fact the entire room had been 'expanded' to accommodate it, the new table, and so there was still enough space for the case and for Potter to move freely in between the furniture.

The desk was covered in what he vaguely recognised as spare parts… and consequently as parts not so much spare… This was his Au- this was himself, dismantled, sorted, spread out over the table. As if he was some fucking thing! As if they could just undo him when he stopped working properly- he jerked – or at least his body tried to, but it wasn't allowed by the manacles.

He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Potter' s hand moved from his sternum to his forehead.

'Calm down, Ed. Easy… Relax…' Whatever Potter was doing to him, it actually worked. The man was scary with his small weird creases of conern and white hair, and the nurse-like behaviour combined with Ed's combat outfit, and no tongue but a way of putting words in your mind, and ability to silence someone or make someone sleep or make porridge off a week old bread and –urgh- milk and the way he was gazing at Edward right now and…

Ed shuddered and not even the straps prevented him from doing so.

'I'll fix you. Be patient. I'm going to need all the help you can provide, because you are the genius here and this is the bloody most complex puzzle I've ever seen…'

Those haunting green eyes fixed on him and he faintly nodded, because he simply couldn't fight all the forceful determination focused into a single look. But that didn't mean he would just put up with everything.

'I'm not a thing, Potter.'

His only response was a grimace of pain. It almost physically hurt to see the angel/monster/boy in so much despair…

'You know… you're so much like him. So much…'

The man wiped his eyes, but Ed had seen that there were no tears in them.

'Potter-'

'So fucking much…'

That was the first expletive he ever heard – well, received – from Potter; somehow it shocked him. He was used to swearing – he minded his language only when he was around Al – and pretty much all his coworkers (out of Hawkeye's earshot) spoke just like that, not to mention the criminals he met on daily basis. But Potter was… whatever it was, it wasn't supposed to use such words. It was supposed to be powerful and merciful and untouchable.

'It's so not fair… why couldn't he have died… why…'

He took a deep breath and put up an effort to get a grip on himself. Wind that certainly shouldn't have been there blew Edward's hair in his face.

'Right. Because I'm the Boy Who Lived To See Everything Go Down The Drain… the bloody Chosen One Who Shall Destroy Voldemort And Spend The Rest Of His Pitiful Existence Nursing A Mental Boyfriend-'

"Shut up, Potter!" Ed yelled and his eyes widened as the room started shaking. The window pane trembled, bent inside, and then exploded, littering the backstreet with shards of glass…

'People stand in line to get themselves killed in my stead, because I am the bloody Child of the bloody Prophecy-'

"Shut! Up!"

Suddenly the air, cut by a blood-curdling shriek from Alphonse's bedroom, stilled. Potter froze and slowly, as though afraid of what he might cause next, brought up his hand. His veins were standing out – dark blue lines on the background of skin. He sighed.

'I'm sorry. It's just… there's so much magic stored in this place and nobody ever uses it… it's a bit of overload and tends to leak when I get emotional. I didn't mean to frighten you. Or hurt you- oh, I didn't hurt you, did I?'

Ed rolled his eyes. He had been worried back then, but it wasn't worth such a Malfoy rant.

"Calm down, Potter. You're-"

'Right… sorry.'

Potter turned to the window and repaired it with a swirling motion of one of those stick-like tools he carried everywhere with himself. It was… just like Alchemy, only that he had a stick instead of a circle… and a lot more effective.

"Look, I'm really sorry about what happened to you, whatever it was… But if you just lay down and wait for death you won't ever get anywhere. Nothing will happen. You'll just die. It wouldn't help you, him, anyone-"

'Right.'

Potter stood up from the bed and took a step towards the door. Ed scowled.

"I didn't say it to upset you. I didn't think you were a sissy – it was supposed to-"

'I'm going to make Dray sleep again. I guess I gave him a scare and if he's hysterical there will be trouble.'

Edward hushed and glared at the empty doorway with disdain.

o

'Draco?'

"Don't… please don't… please don't… please don-"

Harry snapped the door open and more or less ran into the room. Draco was curled in the corner, clutching his upper arms in a death grip and rocking back and forth in the sinister rhythm of his pleas. With every 'don't' the back of his head gently hit the wall, not enough to hurt him, but enough to make Harry yet more nervous than he already was.

'Draco…' he gasped and knelt down in front of the blonde. He stopped rocking and chanting, inquisitevly tilted his head to the side and grinned.

"Hello, Harry. Hello… The sky is blue is blue is blue like… like Dumbly's robes. He always had funny robes, Dumbly, you knew Dumbly, didn't you? Of course Dumbly's dead so his robes aren't blue as sky anymore, but you won't kill Severus again, Harry, will you? Severus!"

He paled and with an with an inhuman effort forced himself to remain calm enough to not make the house cave in on them. Snape. There it was again. The blackest stain on Harry's black existence.

'Draco, do you feel alright?'

The other boy let go of his arms – Harry noticed already appearing bruises – and with his hands extended shrugged.

"I feel the bestest only don't like the food here. They were so mean, the Dark Lord was mean and wouldn't give us food, but they here are mean too, cause they have only apples that are good and they are wrinkled. Hey, Harry, did you notice your hair changed colour? Why did you dye it? Black was good-"

'Alright, Draco. It seems to me that you are just fine.' Harry was gritting his teeth so hard it was almost audible. 'Off to bed with you.'

The blonde smiled.

"Anytime." He caught both Harry's wrists in a bruising grip – obviously had no clue about how much force he used – and dragged him over to the cot. Of the two of them, Draco had always been the physically stronger one, and now he didn't have the common sense anymore, so he had no qualms using that strength. It hurt. Both physically and emotionally.

Being pulled down into a kiss that was strikingly tender after the former – albeit unintentional – cruelty, Harry was on the verge of surrendering… but he didn't. Edward so totally didn't understand what was going on, and still his assessment of the situation was quite accurate: Harry couldn't afford to stop fighting right now.

'Dormiens.'

Draco's lithe body under his own fell limp, and Harry kissed the pink lips between two regular breaths before rolling off the bed and walking out of the room.

o

"Pot-"

'He's sleeping.'

Ed lowered his voice.

"So you really didn't stalk off because I started spouting 'wisdom'?"

The white-haired man raised an eyebrow.

'You sound surprised. I've listened to so much 'wisdom' that I am immune.'

"Sucks for you. Otherwise you could hear something useful," he growled and turned to face the other side. Potter guffawed, startling Edward.

'Yeah… you're right. You've got no idea how many times I've heard that. I guess I should have listened back then – now it's a bit too late.'

"What-"

'Hey, don't get worked up over it. I'm not completely sane either,' he stated as though it was the most common thing in the world. Thinking about it, Ed realised that among certain kind of people it really might have been natural… sort of the same way Colonel Bastard was insane. Nobody dared say it aloud, of course, but he knew it – and still, he wished the Bastard had at least come to say Goodbye. He wouldn't have spent the week drying up and dying… and wouldn't have had to be saved by a pair of loonies.

'Honestly, Ed. You're not exactly one o talk.'

"I'm completely sane, Pot-" he paused. It wasn't all that weird to call somebody by his surname even though they called him 'Edward', but this boy was the same age, not in the Military, and definitely no his superior-

'It's Harry.'

"What?"

'The name. My name is Harry.'

"Not Severus?" Then who was Malfoy calling? Was he such a schizophrenic that he was seeing other people? Or were there in fact more peole sardined in the house than he had seen? He had agreed to offer accommodation to these two, but not to a horde of-

His contemplation was disturbed by the faint eerie sound of a vibrating glass. He turned his head back and looked at Potter – Potter, who was uncharacteristically pale in the face.

"Potter!"

'Oh.' The glass became once more what it was supposed to be – a silent, motionless, inanimate pane. Ed felt the tension in the atmosphere rise, but this time the white-haired man kept himself under control.

'Sorry.'

"That won't undo anything! Fine, you can repair a broken window, but what if you killed me-"

'One more or less.'

Ed's eyes widened and suddenly the situation he found himself in made too much sense. He desperately tugged at the manacles, but it was in vain. He couldn't even fight; he was utterly, pitifully, hopelessly screwed…

'To indulge my sick sense of humour, Severus Snape-'

Ed had heard names being spoken with spite, but the ease with which Potter did it hinted at long-practised mastery.

'-was my teacher once. He was an ally, vital for our side, he was the most useful spy. And I hated him.'

Ed gulped, hoping against hope that he hadn't done anything to make Potter mad. If he had, he couldn't help it – it was just the way he was. He acted like he felt he should, ignoring policy and manners and etiquette and all that stuff people deviced to escape facing the reality. Hell, it was all Colonel Bastard's fault if he couldn't behave – he never had a father to teach him these things and the one man that was supposed to tame him failed so spectacularly… he just hated Roy Mustang…

'Then you can comprehend why I killed him, right?'

"Potter, hatred is not a reason good enough to murder. I have met a few Ishbalits – that's an entire race that had been eradicated just because some idiotic blockheads hated them… I would recommend you to talk to a few of them. They can teach you a lot about life.

As for my superior, I would punch the living daylights out of him any day… but I don't want him to die…"

Potter smiled a small, almost calm smile and sat on the side of Edward's bed he was currently facing. There was something soothing about his demeanor, something that made Ed believe that despite the previous comment the man wasn't as messed up as he pretended and in fact didn't intend to kill him.

'Then it is not hatred. Hatred is when you are willing to die if it just would piss the man off. Hatred is when you would give everything you have to see him suffer, see him bleed, see him… humiliated. When you would sell your soul to be allowed to kill him-'

"That's sick- no, that's mental." Ed did hate Roy Mustang.

'Heh… You know what? Dray and I used to be like that. We thought we hated each other for years… And look at us now- well, not now, but before that happened… good gracious God…'

"Potter!"

'What?'

"Prevention. Get on with whatever you tied me for. I don't enjoy being in this position with two madmen running around…"