5 - Deny
"Did the wolf put you up to this?" Harry asked, by now quite used to Monroe dropping by just before opening time for some freshly baked goods and freely offered friendly-neighbourhood-wolf counselling.
The man for whom he had opened the door just after closing blinked in surprise. "Ah, yeah. My name is Nick Burkhardt."
"The Grimm." Harry clarified, recognizing the name from the countless times Monroe had tried to convince him to go and see the man and talk about 'Grimm-stuff'.
He had yet to convince his Blutbad acquaintance that he was not, in fact, a Grimm himself.
"Yes. The Grimm." The police detective paused, his friendly smile disappearing behind something cautious but hopeful that twisted his face into a rather adorable frown. "A Grimm, because apparently you are one too."
The wizard sighed and shook his head; "I'm sorry, detective, but I'm not."
The police detective seemed to be sizing him up and Harry nearly winced because he knew what the man would see – someone young, vulnerable and alone who was hiding from the world. Because good police officers, even in the U.S. a world away, always seemed to recognize these parts in Harry; the orphan, the runaway, the victim of bullying, neglect and abuse.
Somehow his wild raven-hair, his glasses and his small frame obscured the part of him that was strong, the part that did know love and just how precious it was, the part of him that knew, deeply – to the very core of his being that there was so much in the world, either world, worth fighting for. He wondered why they couldn't see that part of him – the one that Hermione so aptly named his "saviour-complex", the part of him that would always, always stand up against any who wanted to do harm to those he cared for, to innocents or random passers by - and do the right thing.
No matter the cost.
And this time, the last time – it had cost him dearly.
Hands clenched, Harry turned away, fleeing his thoughts more than he was fleeing the policeman's intruding stare.
"Look…" the man started, voice carefully soft – of course it would be – "I know that this, that all of this is not something anyone would want. It's kind of crazy, a bit out there, but it is happening. It's real, and denying that won't help. It won't make this go away."
"Detective-"
"Nick. Call me Nick."
And Harry didn't bother to argue, because the detective's voice was still infinitely gentle - as if he were talking to a frightened child. So he nodded and humoured the guy because he knew that this man was both a Grimm and a policeman and that denying him this familiarity would only make him push harder – because Harry recognized that stubbornness behind the warm smile.
He had it too - that same unwavering determination, when it came down to stuff that mattered.
So he would give this man an inch. "Nick."
An inch, but no further.
(Word Count: 500)
