A/N: Yo! Rein here. Sorry about the RIDICULOUSLY long wait for the chapter - it would've been up sooner, but I had A TON to do. Among other things, I had school, work, travel, translating and interpreting for a Japanese high school band, traveling to Tennessee to see relatives I haven't seen in years (including the little German-speaking cousins who become new appendages for me whenever I visit), paperwork for early graduation and independent study, NINE performances (including three solos), twelve rehearsals with the big bands, three with school, jazz band, shopping, and practice/memorizations of a sonnet of Shakespeare's (Number 36, if you're interested - and a MAJOR interpretation of it) and Gertrude of the play "Hamlet" (Act 4, Scene 7, lines 166-183) for a competition. Between all that, I've been beta-ing, fundraising, filling college apps and financial aid forms, and attempting to deal with a grandfather with pancreatic cancer, a grandmother with her SEVENTEENTH skin cancer surgery coming up, reorganization of ALL of my things, scheduling meetings with the principal of my school concerning my place in the graduation CEREMONY, and having a slight social life among everything else. So, short of time-travel, I've managed due to massive insomnia and forcefully learned time-management. And as a result, I present to you THIS!!!!! As this was written mostly at work, during Media Studies, Physics, and Shakespeare, and in-between classes at lunch, I didn't always have what I'd written previously with me...and so I had to do a lot of editing. I apologize if it's a bit jumpy.

Since I'm fairly certain that about 20 of the readers will read this A/N, I'm going to post it here - for you, the best of the best. The MPREG I have planned for this version of the story...well, let's just say that it's not gonna be where you think. I don't see any reason to make Ed feel worse about himself than he already does...but there's a certain naive and uncertain young man in his life that I feel NO pity in impregnating. No, it's not Neville...() That's all you're getting! Good luck on guessing. Becomes fairly obvious if you read between the lines here...and if you've picked up on my ever-so-slight hinting started in chapter ONE. IF ANYONE GUESSES CORRECTLY, I WILL E-MAIL HIM/HER. Grand prize winner gets to pick the theme for the omake at the end of chapter ten. I encourage everyone to try! (For bonus points - and bonus input - name the father!) GOOD LUCK!

ON WITH THE STORY!!!!!!

Chapter Six: "Hastening Revelations"

It was late now, and Roy was more than a little interested in what was on Edward's mind. The teenager looked just as tired as he had the previous night, but he seemed a lot more relaxed. At least, he seemed relaxed around Winry and Neville. Earlier, when he'd run into him while on the way to lunch, he seemed nervous and edgy.

Somehow, it amused the older man as much as it worried him.

Roy had been concerned that Ed might have been too young for sex, and to see him skirting around all contact with the man more or less proved it. The night before, Edward had pushed for it, so Roy had obliged. Comfort sex, in every sense of the term; it wasn't something that was foreign to the older man. It was natural for him – he'd done it before. It had been so easy to forget that the blonde hadn't.

It had certainly been a comfort to know that Ed wasn't avoiding him altogether, though; Roy should've remembered the kind of person the teenager was. If he was angry, he let it out. If he was nervous or scared, he went in with more force than necessary. And, most importantly, Ed was the kind of person who always faced anything problematic. He never ran away.

But he should; this time, at least, he should.

The train they were on was empty, save for the two alchemists and one other man that Roy knew only as Lupin. He ate at the staff table and had attended the teachers' meeting three days prior, but the reason for his presence was still fuzzy. Had they not boarded together, though, Roy wouldn't have known he was there. The man had remained in his own car since they'd left the station.

Ed could've had his own room as well, but had instead decided on sharing a room with Roy. The General's head rang with the possibilities for the night.

But he had to forget them. If Ed wanted to have sex again, he wouldn't have said what he did. He'd made it perfectly clear that the previous night had been a one-time thing, and Roy could respect that. As much as he wanted it himself, he would have to control his hormones around the teen.

"Hey, about last night," Ed began hesitantly, and Roy turned to look at him. The blonde was blushing cutely. He actually wanted to talk about it? This could be good or bad.

"What about it?" Roy asked, suddenly conscious of his open shirt. He hoped it was appealing to the blonde.

"There's not much I can say. There's a million things I want to, but I just don't know how," Ed murmured, looking Roy right in the eye. "I'm not…that is, I don't really like you, per say. Not romantically, I mean. I like you as a person, kinda, but not as a…a lover," he choked on the word. Roy nodded him on. "Anyway, I liked it last night. A lot. And…uh…shit."

When Ed blushed more heavily and looked away, Roy let out a smirk.

"Would you like to…make a habit out of it?" he asked, voice dropping. The blonde's head snapped up again, blush intensified.

"Shut up," he hissed. Before Roy could question whether he'd done something wrong, Ed was sitting on the bed right next to him. He was resting a hand on Roy's hip, and the man tried to ignore it. "I'd like to fuck now and talk later."

That was all the provocation Roy needed, and – before Ed could blink – the man was atop him, pressing him into the sheets.

The General took in the lustful look on the teen's face and, almost without thinking, laid his hands on either side of the blonde's body, spanning his waist. It was something he was used to doing to women. Upon realizing his mistake and after a questioning look from his partner, he attempted to rectify it by sliding both hands down to the boy's thighs and squeezing.

Ed tensed slightly when Roy caressed his hips, but the latter man didn't perceive this as a bad reaction. He experimentally traced a path up the inner thigh, rewarded for his efforts with a small gasp. The teen's mismatched hands clutched at the open shirt, face still flushed.

After succeeding in pulling the tie from Ed's braid, Roy leaned in and kissed the tanned neck, fingers spreading the hair around absently. He flicked his tongue out, testing for a reaction. When Ed arched his shoulders, the General slid an arm under them, pulling him close. He nipped and licked the flesh beneath his lips ferociously, listening closely. The whimpers and gasps traveled straight to his groin, and before he knew it he was hard as a rock.

Roy pulled away, hands seeking out the bottom of the blonde's tank top. He tugged it over the blonde head, hair flying everywhere, and tossed it to the side of the bed. All he could concentrate on was the slim yet muscular chest before him.

He splayed his hands across the smooth flesh, sitting on the younger man's muscular thighs. Roy took great pleasure in the sounds escaping the blonde and, as such, worked to bring more out of him.

Rolling his hips forward, Roy moaned upon meeting Ed's obvious bulge. The teen let out a strangled groan, bucking his hips upward. He panted, head thrown back and mouth open. Roy was completely aroused by this point, achingly hard and pressing against the front of his pants. Ed seemed to be in the same state, breathing irregularly.

"Roy," he moaned, arching his back. His lips closed and parted again, a slight sheen of sweat all over his body. His eyes were vacant. "Ah, fuck…"

Roy unbuttoned his cuffs, amused when Ed grabbed the hem of the shirt and tried to pull it over his head. He helped as best he could, lifting his arms and shrugging with him. The blonde managed to get it off and threw it somewhere.

As soon as his arms were free, Roy attacked the younger man's boxers, yanking them down. Before he could do anything else, though, Ed pushed against his shoulders.

"Wait," he whispered, and Roy felt his jaw clench.

"What?" the man asked, trying not to glare at his subordinate. If Ed wanted to back out now, then what was all that foreplay for?! The younger alchemist seemed to be reading his mind.

"Do you have any…uh, stuff?" Ed asked, gripping Roy's forearms. Roy nodded in relief, motioning toward his bag. After he had responded, the older man attacked the younger's neck again. By the time he came up for air again, his pants were already down to his knees and Ed was reaching for the lotion.

Roy took it from him, nodding in silent thanks. He spread the teen's legs, teasing his entrance, before reaching for a pillow and forcing it beneath Ed's hips. The General suckled a nipple while spreading lotion over two of his fingers. He pressed them against his partner's entrance and carefully breached it, probing lightly. Ed twitched, but otherwise didn't show any signs of discomfort. The older man glanced up the younger's body, not surprised that he'd closed his eyes. That made sense.

What didn't was the fact that he kept murmuring "stupid" under his breath.

Deciding to ask about it later rather than now, Roy scissored his fingers. His subordinate gasped in pain, but lifted his hips a little more. He worked harder to open the boy, using his free hand to grip Ed's manhood. It was dripping with pre-cum, his own natural lubricant, and Roy took full advantage of it, sliding the length of it up and down easily while still working on the teenager's entrance. Before too long, his fingers were tired and the ache between his legs was unbearable. Ed's whimpering wasn't helping any.

Edward's breath hitched as Roy positioned himself at his entrance, hands coming up to clutch at the man's shoulders. He pushed in carefully, slowly, until the hands tightened and he remembered how it had gone the night before. Roy met Ed's eyes, a silent communication passing between them, and promptly thrust himself in as far as he could.

Ed let out a sound that could've been a long grunt or a short scream – Roy couldn't quite tell which – and dug his nails deep into the older man's flesh. Roy winced at this, but otherwise didn't say anything. He instead took the opportunity to run a hand through the younger man's soft hair, trying not to concentrate below his belt. Being inside of Ed was maddening; it was tight, hot, and the General wondered if he'd have even a minute before he came. It was torture to not be able to move.

But the blonde seemed to be recovering, and Roy decided to speed things up as he had the previous night. His fingers found Edward's wet erection again and began running over it, settling into a slow rhythm. The teenager twitched and strained against the sheets, an aroused and vacant look in his eyes.

"Are you doing okay?" Roy managed, mind overtaken by the urge to pound his subordinate into the bed. Ed nodded.

"Yeah," he said breathily. "Just…it feels tight…stretched. You know…to its limit. And…I…Ah…"

Edward trailed off when Roy shifted above him, releasing his manhood and putting his weight on his elbows. He took it to be a good thing, though, and began to move his hips lightly, just enough to cause a little friction. When Ed let out a strangled moan, the older man knew it was okay to keep going. He set a slow pace and tried not to lose it too fast.

Soon enough, Ed was moving with him, shifting left and right, bucking his hips occasionally. Roy sped up just slightly, and the teen's movements sped up with him. There were soft moans and gasps coming out of his partner, just loud enough to be audible. Ed's eyes had closed again, face screwed up in concentration, and Roy couldn't help but pinch a nipple to surprise him. The younger alchemist jumped when he did; it brought Roy to lean in and nibble up his throat.

Would Edward allow him to kiss him? He had the previous night, but that was a tired, satiated kiss. He hadn't been able to fight. Nonetheless, he had to try, and moved his face upward.

First, Roy brushed his lips against the teen's, careful not to immediately overtake his mouth. Ed tilted his head back, and Roy gave a distinctly harder thrust as he pressed their lips together. It wasn't a soft kiss, but it was by no means harsh. The older man ran his tongue across the boy's lower lip, following that by poking it between them, thrusting the same rhythm all through it. Ed finally opened his mouth, and Roy began exploring the cavern. It was wet, warm, and minty; and after a few seconds, the blonde whimpered into the kiss.

Roy pulled away, panting harder and unable to stop himself from upping the pace.

Ed reached above his head and grasped the sheets beneath him, groaning out again. By now, Roy's control was gone. He knew it was gone, and he had no problems with that. He hooked his hands around the teenager's knees, thrusting harder and changing his angle. It seemed to do something incredible to his partner, though, because his eyes snapped open and he gasped, staring Roy in the eye. He did it again and again, Ed crying out sharply and wrapping his legs around his waist as he did so.

"Aah…Roy…" he warned. "I-I'm gonna…ROY!!"

With that shout, Ed arched his back and shook violently, legs tightening around the man's waist. Feeling Ed convulse around him and spray his chest was all Roy needed, and he hissed out the boy's name as he came, giving a few quick thrusts.

The two collapsed, breathing erratically, and Roy pulled out after some time. Ed was out like a light as soon as the General finished wiping his cum off both of them. He crawled in soon after, drifting off to sleep soon enough.

THIS IS A BREAK LINE; IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY.

It might've been a few minutes; it might've been an hour, but Ed woke up to find Roy missing from the bed. The occurrence, while strange, should've been normal. He sat up and tried to look around, but found the compartment empty. After a few seconds, he gave up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Something caught his eye.

His clothes were neatly folded at the foot of his bed. Ed blinked, a smile tugging at his lips. Roy was acting like a mother - which was strange, considering what the two had done...

Pulling the garments on and checking with the mirror to make sure the bites on his shoulder hadn't bruised, the teenager sighed in relief. He proceeded to oil his wrist and fingers before yanking his gloves on and slipping over to Lihst. She clicked her beak at him.

"Whatever," he replied, smiling at her. She chirped back, and he took the opportunity to pour her more water. Eventually, he'd get to learn some useful spells. "So, when'd the bastard leave?"

A knock at the door snapped him out of his reverie. Clearing his throat, Ed walked toward the door, aware that Roy had probably left his key to the room. He reached for the knob and opened it, propping a hand on his hip as he did so.

"Maybe you should be the one in school, Roy," he teased before actually looking at the person he was antagonizing. His mouth hung open as he did so.

"Actually, Edward," the man in the doorway said. "My name is Remus."

THIS IS A BREAK LINE; IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY.

Roy, for his part, was pleasantly ignorant of Edward's plight. He was, instead, busy looking at a blank slip of parchment and contemplating all the possible forms of faking his own death. By his side was a letter in an elegant hand he had learned to recognize years ago.

Dear Roy,

Thank you for writing to me. I was concerned that you might be too busy to keep in contact. Yes, my shoulder is fine now; it wasn't that deep a wound.

I assume that Edward is doing well? I've sent along the necessary paperwork to allow him a temporary leave for recovery from an injury. The parliament has been informed that he was recovering in Scotland after being sent to a specialist and is currently undergoing continuing treatment for injuries sustained in the collapse of Old Central.

Also, an investigation headed by General Hakuro is underway unto the events that transpired directly after the Fuhrer's disappearance. It would be wisest to remain in Scotland yourself until it has ended. I've been brought in for questioning once, but it was more on the death of his son than the disappearance itself. I expect that I'll be interrogated again in the near future.

On a more personal note, Roy, I've received a note from the headmistress at your workplace. She's invited me to come in November for a demonstration of the Amestrian military for your class. The way she phrased it seemed to present little choice in the matter, and I've agreed. I'm anxious to go - in a positive way. It doesn't feel right, if I may say so, to have you so far away. These letters are all I have to communicate with you through, and it doesn't seem fair that way.

Before you reach for the bourbon and rum, please consider how long we've been together. I've been your friend and subordinate for nearly six years. Isn't it natural for me to consider us close? And you are well aware of my feelings on the matter. It's difficult to hold on with you so far. I'd like an answer.

I look toward our reunion in November with glee. I hold out hope that you'll respond to this letter.

Riza

It had taken Roy only a few moments to read the note; it was the comprehension thereof that took the better part of half an hour. Only Riza, only Riza, only Lieutenant First-Class Riza Elizabeth Hawkeye could integrate military reporting and a personal letter. The general rested his head in his hands, gritting his teeth. Only Riza.

He used his free hand to trace the cursive "R" of her name and sighed. Six years. They'd known each other for six years. She knew everything he'd done. Of course she knew - she was always there, right beside him. Even in groups, she always gravitated to his side - or he to hers. It was the same in or out of work, especially since the incident with Bradley. And now she was coming to Hogwarts. The least McGonagall could've done was warn him.

Riza was something of an acquired taste - never before had Roy met someone who so contradicted herself. She was soft-spoken, yet willful...gentle, but blunt...and feminine, but commanding. And, for a time, Roy the admiration he held for her was deeper. He truly believed his love for her was romantic.

But he was proven incorrect.

He knew it was platonic love - the love good friends had for each other - that he felt the first time they had sex, nearly three years ago. The ways she tasted, she felt, she smelled, she sounded...they were all wrong. It should've been perfect - firm breasts, long legs, golden hair, and the wet heat...but it wasn't. The sex was good, but he knew they would only ever be friends.

Riza herself had to know that, but she insisted on continuing on as if nothing were amiss. He met her family, first as a co-worker, then as a friend...and then, her mother asked if they were dating yet.

But nothing made him question his judgment more than when she began living with him in the wake of Ed's disappearance. Despite her obvious guilt and shame in allowing anything to happen to him, he found himself wanting to see her more...to touch her, to watch her, to comfort her. The old attraction came back...

Just in time to see her discover another man.

The mutual attraction between the two was painfully obvious to Roy. It was to be expected, though; Riza was six years his junior and would've hated growing old with an old man. It wouldn't have been fair to even think of letting her hang on to him.

The blank parchment glared at him in challenge. Resigning to his fate, he lifted the quill he'd brought and positioned it at the top of his paper.

Riza-

Ed's doing okay. We're visiting Al in a hospital out here - he's fine, so you know. You can take your hand from your mouth.

(We have been together too long, haven't we.)

You know how I feel about paperwork. Thank you so much for sending me more. I appreciate the effort taken to ensure that I keep my job.

Concerning the investigation, the best defense is a powerful offense. I'll leave you to decide what that means.

So you're coming to Hogwarts. Ed'll probably be happy to see you. Who's going to take care of Hayate?

Riza, you don't have to wait for me. You know that. You don't belong to me - even as a subordinate. After all these years, I'm not getting rid of you. Besides, if you're that concerned, I'm sure McGonagall would let you visit every so often. And I don't have any bourbon and rum - though I do want some. You know me as well as I know you. That's scary.

If you want to see him, go ahead. I'm not your boyfriend or anything. We're friends.

I'll see you in November.

Roy

A tentative hand signed the letter and wrote an address, though he knew the owl didn't need it. If anything, it was to remind him that they were apart. The last two paragraphs had been more difficult than anything he'd ever written. And they were a contradiction of sorts. He wanted nothing more than to have her near, yet wished wholeheartedly not to see her. He hoped it was clear enough.

As an afterthought, he scribbled something at the bottom.

Lai will be happy to see you.

"HEY, LOOK! IT'S A BREAK! GO AHEAD AND TAKE THAT POTTY TIME!"

Remus escorted Edward off the train, smiling at him. For a moment, the teen really didn't know how to react, but then McGonagall met them at the station. To his surprise, Roy was out right behind him, patting his shoulder gently before walking straight to her with a wary smile.

"Professor Mustang, I would much appreciate it if you were to have dinner with me tonight," she commanded in a very Hawkeye-esque fashion. He nodded curtly, turning to Ed. Before he could say anything, she continued. "Oh, and you will be dining with me alone, if I may say. Edward will be having dinner with his housemates."

"Actually," Remus interjected. "I've invited him to have dinner in my rooms."

McGonagall turned to look at the blonde, who shifted uncomfortably. After a few seconds, she sighed heavily and tucked a hair Ed couldn't see behind her ear and crossed her arms, something close to a smile gracing her lips. The young alchemist, after three or four seconds of pre-mortem rigor mortis, slipped his hands into his pockets and grit his teeth, thinking quite seriously that he had never ever seen anything quite so scary in his life.

"I wish you luck, Mr. Elric, and sincerely encourage you to make full use of your Gryffindor bravery for your encounter tonight. I have full confidence that you'll need it," she said curtly, wheeling around. "Remus, don't let him...do too much."

Ed couldn't ask anything before she left, but had he had the chance to, he admitted, that he wouldn't have anyway.

Yes, the story continues...but I REALLY didn't want to write a transition. Enjoy!

"Hey," Ed blinked, taking in Remus' eclectic outfit. He couldn't have meant to wear green jeans and a patched red and orange sweater to dinner, could he? "Uh, am I early?"

The older man shook his head, smiling good-naturedly.

"No, not at all. Please come in," he stood aside, holding the door open. Ed stepped in, unsure of what to do. "Thank you for coming tonight."

"Er…no problem," Ed murmured, looking around. The room was pretty big; it had high ceilings, windows covering almost an entire wall, two chandeliers, and a fireplace. Two armchairs and a loveseat sat near it. "You've got a nice office. Er…I mean, you have a nice room."

"Hogwarts," Remus began, sitting on the loveseat. "…has been very kind to me, considering its position. I was in a spot of trouble."

Ed nodded, feigning comprehension, as he sat in one of the armchairs.

"That's good," he said, distracted. He wasn't sure what to say. Why couldn't he just come out and say what he wanted to like a military official would? Nice guys were so hard to understand. "Yeah…that was nice of them, Sir."

Remus had apparently noticed the awkwardness surrounding Edward's speech and posture, chuckling softly.

"You can relax, Edward," he smiled at him. "And don't be so proper; since I'm not a teacher and since this isn't a formal occasion, please call me 'Remus'. Everyone else does."

"Okay, Remus," Ed gave the name a try; it felt weird to call him that. "Sorry, but can I ask what kind of trouble you were in?"

Remus paused for a moment, looking at the door. He sighed, still smiling, and Ed tried to imagine him with any other expression. The guy wasn't chipper, per say, but he seemed to like smiling.

"I suppose that's fair," he started, slowly. His smile faded slightly, and he immediately set it back on his face. "After all, I've been told all about you. My 'trouble' wasn't illegal or anything; it wasn't even anything I've done. It's actually completely about my race."

Ed raised an eyebrow; it didn't take an idiot to see that this guy wasn't a minority. Light skin, fair hair, grey eyes; he was your average male.

"What race are you?" he asked, and Remus' smile grew into a grin.

"Why don't you guess? I'll give you three shots," he challenged, sitting back in the chair. Ed smirked back; he loved a good challenge.

"Okay," he pondered, wracking his mind for something he'd learned about races outside of the Amestrian norm. "Liorian?" he guessed, receiving a blank stare as an answer. Strike one. "Uh…Jew-ish?" Remus shook his head.

"No; that's not even it. It's more…physical."

Ed thought for a moment, severely frustrated. He almost never got beaten at this sort of thing.

"I give. What is it?" he conceded. Remus fell back on his smile, and Ed found himself starting to grow tired of it.

"Lycanthropic," he answered, resting his head on the back of his hand. The teenager blinked, trying to remember where he'd heard that word. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't recall…at once, he remembered, jaw attempting to rest in his lap.

"Lycan—wait. You're a…werewolf?" he asked, voice as steady as he could manage it. "You're a werewolf?" Remus nodded.

"Yes, I am," he replied, tilting his head. Ed could feel his eyes widening.

"Are you fucking serious?" he asked weakly; before the man before him could answer, the door opened and a face all-too-familiar grinned wickedly at him.

"Now that is wholly inappropriate," he snipped, shutting the door and striding over to the loveseat. He stood behind it and looked down at the brown-haired man. "It's very inappropriate."

"But true," Remus shrugged, tilting his head back to look the raven-haired man in the eye. "I am."

"O-oh," Ed stuttered, his mind shutting down. "You're…Black, right?" Black nodded.

"Yup," he responded, walking around the side of the loveseat and sitting aside Remus. "That I am. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; I know it's only been a week, but honestly…to think you've forgotten my name…I am deeply hurt."

At once, Ed felt embarrassed and angry.

"I've had a lot of shit going on," he growled defensively, turning his gaze back to the man – werewolf? – sitting adjacent to the teacher. "I didn't know that Professor Black would be here, Remus…"

"Why wouldn't I be?" the brunette answered, completely ignoring the fact that Edward hadn't spoken to him. "This is my room, too."

Ed paused for a moment.

"Wait…you guys share a room?" he asked, eyes darting between the two. Remus nodded.

"We do; in much the same way that you and Professor Mustang do," he answered, folding his hands in his lap. Black raised an eyebrow at this, and then blanched.

"God, I hope not," he muttered, chuckling into his hands. Ed felt even more confused now, and Remus's silence wasn't helping any. "Not only would that be completely messed up…it's illegal."

Ed was thoroughly confused.

"What?" he asked, watching the extraordinary show on Remus's face. Gone were the smiles and grins. Now, they had been replaced by an embarrassed countenance and many different shades of red. The change was so significant that Ed could've laughed at it, had he not been so lost. The man cleared his throat.

"Well, you'll remember that I said 'yes' when you asked whether I was 'fucking serious'," he said, ignoring the capricious laughter threatening to escape his partner. "About that…"

"I'm Sirius," the aforementioned partner informed him. "Sirius Black."

Ed blinked, the realization suddenly hitting him. He gaped at the two.

"…fucking serious…fucking Sirius," he whispered, voice proving that it could change octaves several times in ten syllables. "Okay, that's…that's just not fair. Don't mess with my wording," he finished. His stomach added its own opinions of the situation, apparently not caring if they were off-topic.

"Ah…I'm sorry," Remus bowed his head in humility. "I'd completely forgotten that it was dinnertime. Edward, what's your favorite dish?"

Ed paused, thrown off. He thought for a moment.

"Uh…the ribs. I like the ribs best," he answered. Sirius grinned maniacally.

"Great! That's my favorite, too," he barked, and Ed couldn't help but compare him to a large, over-friendly dog. Wonderful fun, but it was completely impossible. "I guess it must be Moony's influence."

Ed looked at Remus and raised an eyebrow.

"…Moony?" the blonde asked, internally hoping for the man to turn all the different colors he had earlier. To his disappointment, all he did was wink.

"Lycanthropic," he stated playfully, throwing some powder into the fireplace and calling for ribs and bread. Edward sighed.

"Right, right; the werewolf thing. So, you two are…involved?"

Sirius nodded, and Edward was struck by the impression of a dog wagging its tail. This guy was too dog-like for his own good. The teen considered offering him a chew toy.

"That's putting it lightly, but yeah," the man answered, promptly making a show of putting an arm over the other man's shoulder. Ed wondered why it wasn't bothering him; probably all the sex with Roy. "We've been 'involved' off and on for about…oh, what would it be now? Twenty years? Twenty-one years?" he looked to Remus, who put on a contemplative look.

"Since we were about sixteen," he murmured, touching his lower lip. "Yes, since we were sixteen. That would make it 22 years, I believe," he concluded, shrugging the other man's arm off of him. Sirius pulled a hurt face and Ed was again struck by his uncanny resemblance to a dog. This was getting creepy. "At least…I'm fairly sure it's been that long. I know it has on my end. Padfoot, how long were you in Munich? To us, at least, it was a little over a year…"

Sirius looked blank.

"I don't know. I didn't keep track," he said simply, shoulders dropping. "Being in Azkaban for years does that to a person." Ed didn't know how to interrupt politely, but he interrupted nonetheless.

"He was there for two months," the alchemist supplied. Remus raised an eyebrow. "You forget that I was there, too."

Remus nodded, and Sirius took the chance to change the topic.

"So…what's your relationship with Professor Mustang?" the man asked, and Edward stiffened. It must've been noticeable, too; the brunette whistled low through his teeth. "Ooh, so it's good. Well, we were honest with you, so I hope you'd be good enough to return the favor, Ed…"

"Professor--" Ed started to say before the teacher cut him off.

"The name's Sirius, Ed," he corrected. Ed glared.

"Well Sirius," he started, taking a deep breath. "If you must know, I don't think there's a way to categorize or classify it. We argue a lot – mostly over my phoenix, Lihst – and can't get through a day without insulting each other a couple dozen times. I'm lucky if he doesn't insult me in passing when we see each other in the hallways."

"Sounds healthy enough," Sirius interrupted again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Remus put a hand on his shoulder, handing him a plate of ribs.

"I don't think he was quite finished," the werewolf murmured, handing one to Edward as well. The teen accepted it, glaring at the brunette.

"Ah, sorry about that," Black shrugged, eyeing his ribs like a hungry wolf. Another dog analogy; this was getting way too creepy. Ed wanted to slap a muzzle on the man. "Please continue." Ed rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, I'll just be completely honest with you two, since you were honest with me. We have arguments, we have insults, and then, at the end of the day, we have sex," he stated plainly, proud that he wasn't blushing more than the two men were. Of course, their blushes could've been caused by shock or some synonym thereof, but he could ignore that. "We've had sex a few times; it's not something all that unusual where I come from. And it's not that weird – you guys do it, too." Remus swallowed hard before speaking again.

"True…and I can't say I'm altogether too surprised…but it's different for us," he answered, voice sounding strangled. Sirius coughed a few times.

"We're actually legal, Edward," the dog-like-man managed, coughing again. "You're, uh…not. If you two are caught…the best-case scenario is that you get expelled and ding! Mustang gets slapped with a statutory rape charge." Remus nodded.

"Were you seventeen and out of school, it would be different," the man said, control back in his tones. "As it stands, though, you're sixteen and in it. And it just doesn't seem right…you're sixteen. He's thirty. That's an age difference of fourteen years. Some of the students here haven't even lived that long. Half of them haven't!" Ed cocked his head, quickly concocting a bullshit answer.

"In Amestris, sixteen is the legal age," he growled, lying through his teeth. He'd never liked being dishonest, but when the occasion called for it, he could do so easily. "What about here?"

"It's seventeen, Jailbait," Sirius responded, and Edward was surprised at how serious he sounded. "Sorry, but you're not in Amestris anymore; this is Scotland." Ed's eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fists. He must've looked unstable, considering how Remus – a certified werewolf – took a step back, a hand slipping into his pocket. "We have different laws here."

"And I'm not a Scottish citizen," Ed hissed, rightfully pissed; they were treating him like a child! "So I'd appreciate it if you'd retract the 'Jailbait' thing. And Remus, what did you mean by 'not too surprised'?"

Remus looked apprehensive, hand drawing out of his pocket. He wasn't holding a wand.

"You can fool all the senses but one, Ed; the nose never lies, especially a canine one," he murmured, approaching slowly. Ed contemplated barking at him – maybe it'd make him shut up. The most logical part of his mind shot the idea down immediately. Remus continued, blissfully unaware of what was going on in the blonde's head. "But you have no idea how bad this is. You're underage. You're a student. If it weren't enough that you're sleeping with a teacher, he's also you're direct superior in the military. There are so many risks – it's worse than you know."

Ed waited to see if Sirius was going to say anything, and then sighed.

"I do know how serious this is," he said, twirling a rib bone before tossing it at the wastebasket. He wasn't shocked when it moved to catch it. "In fact, I think it's worse than you know. Roy's putting a lot on the line over this. More than just his career, he's risking everything he's spent the past six or seven years working for."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, and Remus looked politely confused. Edward felt a fair bit of pride when he noticed that the blush on the brunette's face hadn't yet dissipated. The werewolf cleared his throat.

"What was he working for?" he inquired, cocking his head patiently. Behind his back, Sirius pulled a face, and Ed glared at him.

"He wants to be Amestris' Fuhrer – our leader," he responded, leaning forward. "I don't know all the details, but during a conflict in Ishbal back about seven years ago, he was ordered to kill two civilian doctors. They had been treating casualties on both sides, so the State got angry. He wants to prevent atrocities like that from ever happening again. He's trying to change everything. Obviously, it would be bad if he lost his position."

Remus seemed to understand, and even Sirius looked relatively pensive. Ed seized the looks as a victory and dug into his plate. For a few minutes, the room was silent, save for a few clatters and the scooting of an animated waste bin. Finally, when all present had eaten as much as they wanted, Sirius let out a contented groan and looked at Ed.

"So," he began, and the blonde prickled. "Exactly where is Mr. Fuhrer-wannabe right now?" Ed blinked.

"McGonagall is talking to him, I think."

THIS IS A BREAK LINE; IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY.

Roy sat in McGonagall's office, eye wandering around. It was a plain, somewhat dark room; the only lights were from the fireplace in the corner and the candelabra on her desk. There was a chandelier high above the middle of the room, but it looked for all the world that it hadn't been lit since before he'd joined the military. A few cages sat around the room, unused, and Roy wondered exactly what they'd once held. A clue might've been on the mantle, from where a steely-eyed cat watched him. It seemed familiar.

He attempted to achieve a more comfortable position, failing miserably. His chair was incredibly stiff, and he couldn't come up with a single reason as to why. Lo, he was uncomfortable; not to mention hungry. He'd skipped lunch to get away with his and Ed's tryst, and it was now dinnertime. Years of military reporting had taken their toll.

Current status: bored; awaiting orders.

The man let out a sigh, finally finding a minutely comfortable position. This situation sucked, and if he had to wait much longer, McGonagall would know it.

"If this were the military," he murmured, amused by the slight echo his voice caused. "She'd be in trouble. Calling someone to your office and not being there…"

"I've been here the whole time," came the woman's hard voice, and Roy was stunned to see her standing aside the fireplace. Her hand was resting where the cat had been previously, said feline nowhere to be seen. He narrowed his eye, standing and barely holding back a salute.

"Precisely when did you materialize and from where?" he asked, unable to help the formality. He groaned inwardly at the look on her face; it was like she was taking pleasure in knowing she had one up on him. Insufferable wench.

"I've been here since before you arrived; I was on the mantle," she answered, the smug expression on her face angering Roy even further. She was so close to the fire…with a quick calculation, he discreetly activated the array on his ever-present glove, manipulating a tiny lick of flame into catching onto her robes. The older woman didn't seem to notice, and Roy dropped back into his unduly uncomfortable seat once more.

"I see," he murmured, best poker face on. "The cat; so, what did you need me for?"

The woman stepped away from the hearth; Roy held back a smirk upon noticing that the hem of her robes was smoldering. After a moment, she made her way back to her seat, completely oblivious.

"Mr. Elric's brother will be all right, then?" McGonagall asked, her voice even. When Roy nodded, she continued. "Good; moving on…"

She trailed off, her nose twitching. Roy was somewhat disappointed when she lifted the smoking end of her robe and doused the flame, glaring at him. He gave her a surprised and – he hoped – innocent look in response. She dropped the fabric again, waving away a tiny plume of smoke.

"As I was saying," she continued, giving him the 'I-know-you-did-it-but-I-can't-prove-it' look. "I have something very serious to discuss with you, Brigadier General and – more importantly – Professor Mustang. It's regarding Edward Elric."

Roy felt his hands twitch in his lap; she was going to bring it up. In that case, diversion would be the best tactic.

"I'm sorry; Fullmetal is visiting with Black and Lupin tonight, so any talks with him will have to wait. That does remind me, though," he pulled a confused face. "Why exactly is Lupin staying here if he's not a teacher?" McGonagall's lip thinned before she replied.

"Remus Lupin is Professor Black's only remaining family, and as such he is welcomed here. The same treatment is given to spouses of staff – on the rare occasion that a member of our staff marries," she explained, folding her hands in her own lap. "But, back on the original topic, we don't need Mr. Elric here for this. I need to ask you something."

The General nodded, trying not to look nervous.

"I'm going to ask it once," McGonagall murmured, eyes shooting daggers. "And I would advise against lying to me. Professor Mustang, did you sleep with Edward Elric?"

"By that, may I infer that you meant 'have sex with'?" he asked, suddenly all too calm about the situation. When she nodded, he found himself mirroring the motion. "Yes, I've had sex with him."

McGonagall was silent, but she didn't seem angry. It was more like she was irritated – irritated in the same way a parent would be after being corrected by her children. She sighed calmly, running a hand through her bangs and cupping her cheek. Her eyes closed for a moment, and Roy prepared himself for the reprimanding he was sure to receive.

"Why?" she asked, staring at him blankly. "I'm not going to scold you until I've heard the whole story. You're honest, so I won't dispute what you say. Tell me why you would involve yourself sexually with someone fourteen years your junior."

After she said this – and only after – did Roy notice that her hands were shaking. She must've clasped them while she was speaking.

Minerva McGonagall deserved the truth, but hell if she'd get it.

"You may not like this," he began, looking steadfastly into her eyes. "But it's nothing altogether unbelievable. How much do you know about Amestrian law?" McGonagall glared at him.

"Not very much," she conceded, obviously biting some rude comment back. "But I know that there is a law on statutory rape. Most everyone knows that."

Roy nodded, carefully maintaining eye contact. Hughes had taught him – way back when he was involved in interrogations – that there were a few sure signs that someone was lying. A major one was a subtle drop in someone's gaze. If a person looked at your mouth while speaking to you, they were most likely lying. So, he had perfected body language and all other aspects in turn.

In short, he was a regimented and experienced liar.

"Edward," Roy began, consciously leaning back in his chair and sighing. "Has been through more than you can imagine, and he went through most of it willingly. He's focused and mature to an extreme. As a State Alchemist, he's well respected and very achieved. As a young man, however, he's especially difficult to describe," he closed his eye for a moment, acting like he was remembering something. "He's grown monumentally in the last two years."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue.

"I don't mean physically – he's more or less the same height as when I first met him. He's become an adult," he stopped himself abruptly and shook his head. "No, he's been an adult for longer than that. Ever since his mother died, he's had to be one. He's taken care of his brother for years."

The headmistress interrupted him, crossing her arms.

"This doesn't sound like an explanation, Professor Mustang," she growled. "If anything, it sounds like a justification."

Roy ignored her, running a hand through his hair.

"Honestly," he stressed. "I knew that I shouldn't have done anything to him beyond my duties as his superior. Our relationship should have stayed professional. As you can tell, though, it didn't. He and I started to see each other, have an occasional lunch or dinner…things escalated from there." McGonagall seemed unimpressed.

"That still doesn't explain your actions," the woman deadpanned, and Roy could see her impatience. "Please get to the point."

"In Amestris, we've revised out laws concerning marriage," Roy said thoughtfully, voice light. He let out a small smile, playing up his lie. "To both of us, this is something of a convenience. A spouse is someone you trust and value; somebody you can honestly respect. They're more than a friend – they're a partner. To me, at least, it's a person you could be with forever and never hate. Edward fits those qualities."

McGonagall blinked, and Roy noticed the dawning horror on her face. She went red, lips tightening and eyes narrowing.

"You don't mean to tell me," she whispered breathily, voice dangerously low. "That you and Mr. Elric are married?"

"No, I don't intend to," Roy echoed in negative, shaking his head as he did so. He hoped he could talk to Ed before she did. "I mean to tell you that we're engaged."

McGonagall sighed, and that was the one thing he hadn't expected her to do. She nodded, leaned back, and waited for him to say something. Roy knew what she needed to hear, but he wasn't sure how to put it in words. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a contemplative matter before sighing and diving into it.

"I realize that abstinence would have been the best course of action, but circumstances prevented it," Roy allowed himself a nervous hand-through-the-hair motion. It was necessary for the next part to seem realistic. "It sounds like an excuse, but it was something we both needed. He needed comfort and I needed confirmation. The only way we could have both was through sex. We are men, after all." McGonagall seemed confused.

"Confirmation of what?" she asked. Roy touched his eye patch.

"Physically, I've changed a lot since he's been gone," he admitted, letting the sentence hang for a long moment. "I wasn't entirely sure if he saw me in the same light anymore. He said he would still marry me – and I do believe him – but I still needed to know if this-" he gestured to his patch again. "-would make things any different between us. Also, he's been changed substantially. Munich was hard on him. I worried that these things would affect our marriage. It seems my worries were moot."

"Indeed," McGonagall said firmly. "It's Hogwarts' policy to dismiss any teacher sexually involved with a student, marriages barred. In that light, as you two are yet unmarried, you may expect to be dismissed within the week."

Roy nodded slowly, trying to make sense of his emotions. As soon as he deemed himself ready to speak, she did.

"But I've decided not to let you go," she admitted, clasping her hands tightly enough to make her knuckles go white. "Nor do I intend to separate you and Mr. Elric. I will inform the staff of the situation, but I intend to change one detail. Unless you have any objections, I would like to tell them that you and Mr. Elric are already married. Is that clear?"

Roy opened his mouth to speak, but quickly realized that he hadn't thought of a response quite yet. He swallowed to buy time, and then smiled at her.

"Thank you," he murmured, an old Xingian custom of bowing coming out almost unconsciously. "But could you hold off on telling the staff until later? I'd like to see if Edward has any reasons why he wouldn't want anyone to think that we're already wed."

McGonagall nodded, and Roy stood up. She stared pointedly at him, and he waited.

"I'll have a house-elf bring something for you to eat," she stated, waving him off. "And, just in case anyone is out by your room at night, you might want to cast a silencing spell on your quarters. It's silencias totalus."

Roy nodded, gathering his overcoat from the chair. He pulled it on while he walked, and then opened the door. To his surprise, a very familiar face was just approaching. Flanked on either side of him were Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Well aware that McGonagall would likely observe their interactions and not too insecure about his acting skills, Roy let out a small smile and stepped forward.

"Hey, Ed," he ruffled Ed's hair and covered his right foot with his own. When the boy gave him a questioning look, he pressed down on the flesh appendage. Apparently, the blonde got the hint. "Have a nice visit? Did you eat yet?"

"Yes to both," the teen answered. "What did she want to talk to you about?" Roy shifted slightly.

"A few things. I need to speak with you about it later, if possible," he murmured, turning Edward around and resting a hand on his shoulder. "We should head back to the room before curfew."

After a rushed goodbye and a knowing glance from Lupin, Roy led Edward toward the room. The blonde seemed nervous, but silent nonetheless. They passed a few students in the hall (and narrowly avoided an invitation to one of Slughorn's parties) and made it to their room in record time. Once inside, Ed confronted him.

"McGonagall knows, doesn't she?" Ed asked, face deadpan. Roy nodded.

"In order to keep us here, I had to tell a pretty serious lie," he said, crossing the room and sitting on his bed. Ed's hadn't been used since before they'd left, and he was fairly certain that it wouldn't be used much in the future. "I told her that we're engaged. To put the staff at ease, though, she wants to tell them that we're married."

Ed's mouth flapped a few times before he regained control of his jaw. When he did, an oddly amused expression graced his features.

"You know," he began slowly. "I just got through telling Remus and Sirius just about the same thing. After lecturing me about how wrong it was for me to sleep with you, they got around to asking me why. I said that we were planning to get married around Easter, and that we've been together for almost two years."

Roy blinked, watching as Ed grinned. He felt himself starting to laugh, and within moments, he was chuckling madly. Ed wasn't much better off – it was all he could do to hold himself up. After both had calmed down, Ed strode over to the bed.

"I'm going to be kicked out of this school in a month. Damned if I'm not, really."

Roy nodded in agreement as Edward sat next to him, frowning at his left hand. The older man arched a brow in question. His subordinate chuckled.

"Gonna have to get a ring, aren't I?" the blonde muttered around a smirk, clenching and unclenching his fist a few times. "We should be happy I wear gloves, huh? So, when are you going to give me my engagement ring?"

"When I get a hold of some scrap gold or something - I'm not buying something I can make," Roy answered. Ed stuck out his tongue, to which Roy raised an eyebrow. "Tongues can do much more interesting things than just sticking out like that. Should I start listing them off?"

Ed shuddered, glaring, and then sat on the bed next to Roy. He yanked his shirt off and began working on his pants. The older man stood up and turned his back to him, understanding that his young subordinate did not mean to have sex with him again today. He strode to the bathroom, vaguely listening to the sound of a zipper, leather, and the general sounds of disrobing.

THIS IS A BREAK LINE; IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY.

Morning came all too quickly, and upon waking up, Ed found Lihst apparently none-too-happy with him. She perched on his chest - seemingly having developed a fixation with it - and chirped at him, tightening her talons. He hissed in pain.

"Lihst...I think that's the avian - OW! the avian equivalent of biting the hand that feeds you, you vulturous little - OW! I get it! I'm up, I'm up! Can you just - AAARGH!! Dammit, Lihst! That's - Lihst!!" Ed's voice was steadily crescendoing and Lihst was glaring at him. GLARING. "Lihst! That's my blood you're - DAMN IT, LIHST!! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!"

"Shut up!!" Roy's muffled voice roared; Ed ignored it, reaching up to finally wrench the winged lizard-like beast off his chest. she chirped again, blinking.

"Lihst, you heal this NOW," he growled, holding her up. Her eyes traveled over his chest, taking in the angry gashes littering it and leaking red all over. She turned up her beak.

Ed's grip loosened as he took a moment to think to himself, rather perversely, that his new pet might be more insane than he first suspected.

"That goddamned fènghuáng bothering you?" Roy groaned, and Ed turned just in time to see him pick his face out of his pillow, getting the distinct impression of a panda. he raised an eyebrow when he noticed the decisively bloody cut running down his cheek. "That thing has got to be the reincarnation of the Fuhrer. He liked blood, too. Let's ring her neck? Burn her? Transmute her into a rubber duck?"

"Let's not," the teen answered shortly, turning his attention to his bird again. "And you're not being coherent. You know we couldn't transmute her into a rubber anything. Transfigure her, maybe, but not transmute. And what did you call her? Fing-hwang?"

The bed shifted and Lihst let out a high-pitched shriek. Roy lay on his back, running a hand through his hair.

"Fènghuáng," the general murmured. "Ssslipped into Mandarin. It means phoenix. Didn't mean to. Tired. The evil chicken tried to kill me. It's morning, isn't it? Dammit. Make it heal my face."

Roy was babbling and incoherent, and Ed couldn't even begin to describe how amusing it was, how the hoarse and garbled voice of his superior made him all warm and fuzzy and how he didn't even know why he'd used a phrase he detested to describe feelings of anything, let alone entertainment. He enjoyed the difference.

"She won't even heal me, and she likes me," Ed replied, ignoring his superior for a moment. "So you can just go teach class all disfigured-like."

Lihst chirped in agreement, and Roy's hand came up to smack at her. She nipped his finger in response, looking calmer than she had in ages.

"Ow," he grunted, bringing his finger to his lips briefly in a way that Ed interpreted as far too sexual in nature, especially for so early in the morning, then narrowed his already narrowed eyes even further, if possible, at the phoenix. "Móguî. I don't like you, either. I should burn you. Cook you. I betcha'd be tasty. But...I dunno. Ed, would you get mad if I did? Never mind. Why're you awake? And why's the freaking fènghuáng so bitchy? I don't know, but I need coffee and food. Maybe stitches. Coffee."

Ed attempted to decipher the older man's immiscibility, still unduly amused.

"You have to get it yourself," the teen relaxed into the mattress and sighed. "What's wrong with you, anyway?"

Roy was undeniably, irrefutably incoherent. Ed had never seen him like this.

"Low blood pressure," was the reply, but it might've been anything else that sounded like 'lefrefresha' through sweaty palms in the morning. The man propped his leg up, effectively stealing all the warm covers from Edward. "Don't get it. The doctor says people with low blood - no, no. Wait a sec. People who cry a lot have low blood pressure as a result. Or was it the other way around? Something about them being linked. But I don't remember. I don't cry. Not much. It doesn't make sense. But I have a hard time waking up and stuff. What do you think?"

"I don't think I understood a word you said," Ed admitted, setting Lihst aside, grudge not forgotten (but temporarily ignored), and turned his full attention to the military man. "But I've heard that drinking can lead to high blood pressure. Are you sober?"

"Sadly, yes," Roy groaned. "That's just what I need: another reason to become an alcoholic. I'm doomed. If I drink, I kill my liver and die. If I don't, I have no life. Doooooomed."

And, Ed decided, this was probably enough.

"C'mon, time to get up," Ed muttered, sitting up and pulling the older man's arm. "You do need coffee. You're not making sense."

Roy didn't fight back, but the teen got the impression that he wasn't helping him, either. He was as limp as a dead snake. After a valiant effort and more than a few well-decorated words, Ed triumphed forcing the man to his feet.

"Where's the coffee?" Roy asked, swaying dangerously. Ed sighed.

"Undoubtedly in the Great Hall, along with the teachers we'll be lying to about our marriage, honey," he answered, leaning in to pick up his bedmate's hand. The younger alchemist ran his fingertips over the ring finger. "Are you ready to discuss the completely untrue validation to out illegal sex life?" the man's hand left his.

"After coffee," the man stumbled toward the dresser, bleeding profusely down his cheek. "Treat your chest, okay?"

Ed was suddenly reintroduced to the bleeding talon-marks on his chest. He glared at the bird at fault, which was ferverently plucking down from her body and chirping loudly. Within seconds, he had her in his hands.

"Lihst, are you going to do something about this?" he asked. She simply hopped out of his hands and back onto his shoulder, perching precariously. He gave up, trying to get his mind off of her by thinking of better things, like radios and puppies and things that didn't usually tear six-inch gashes into people's flesh. He somehow managed to dress both his wounds and himself around the phoenix occupying his upper half, and then turned to Roy. The man was yawning into his glove. After a moment, Ed stepped to his side, gripping his sleeve.

"You're going to fall down the stairs and die if you go out on your own. Wait a sec and I'll grab my stuff. Then, after that, we'll go to breakfast," he commanded, hurrying to his desk. He began stuffing books into his bag.

"We're on the main floor," Roy stated plainly. Ed rolled his eyes.

"You're not fully conscious," the teen retorted. "So you need help."

Given that the sardonic alchemist hadn't given him some pathetically condescending reply for his statement, Ed determined that he was all but sleepwalking. Or he was listening to reason. The former seemed more likely.

A knock on the door snapped the blonde out of his thoughts. He blinked, slinging the bag over his unoccupied shoulder and setting Lihst back on the bed. After nodding to Roy, Ed spelled the candles off and pulled the door open.

"Welcome back, Edward!"

Neville's grin was wide enough to split his face, and his protruding ears seemed perkier than before. Nothing, the Amestrian teen decided just then, should be allowed to be perky. But Neville managed to look pathetically normal nonetheless. It was enough to make Ed give him a tired, confused smile of his own.

"Neville, you were there, too. Why're you so excited?" he asked, pulling his gloves on as he spoke. He noticed his friend's eyes flicker to his metal hand, but his expression wasn't confused or upset. If anything, it seemed embarrassed. Ed chose to ignore it. "Did McGonagall do something?"

Neville shrugged, lips twitching. Before either Gryffindors could say anything, Roy collided dully with Ed's shoulder and the doorframe, wavering and swaying. Ed could've laughed at Neville's expression. Now he seemed confused.

"Ed?" Roy mewled pathetically, trying to fix a patch over the cut Lihst had given him. "Is it time for coffee yet?"

"Yeah," Ed gripped his sleeve and nodded to Neville, who cleared his throat.

"Does he need you to do that?" the Gryffindor asked. When Ed nodded, he brought a hand to his mouth. "I guess he's not much of a morning person. Or maybe it's just...going around or something like that."

"Howzat?" Ed asked patiently as he looped his arm through his superior's absentmindedly while tugging him in the right direction. Roy protested slightly, but Ed continued on, using his free hand to grip the man's wrist. Neville glanced at him uncomfortably, but instead explained himself.

"Well...a couple of guys in the dorm are acting like that," he murmured as the Hall doors came into view. "Like...well, Seamus, Ron, and Harry. But then, Ron's always been that way, but Harry and Seamus have been so tired in the mornings."

Neville cut himself off as he opened the door. Ed drew a blank for a moment, but Roy, seemingly a tiny bit more alert now, and answered.

"Puberty. 'S just puberty," he slurred. Ed noticed a horribly distinctive smell on his breath and scoffed angrily.

"You got drunk yesterday, didn't you?" The teenager accused quietly, releasing the man's arm and glaring at him. "Damn it - I don't care if you drink, but if you go too far, I have to move back in with the bastards in the dorm - no offense, Neville - and I don't ever wanna do that. And if it was so hard to see Al--"

"It wasn't about Al," Roy groaned, staggering into the room. ed raised an eyebrow as he and Neville made their way to the Gryffindor table. His superior tossed a look over his shoulder. "Hawkeye's coming to visit in November."

Ed nodded, still not clear on why Roy would have to get drunk at the mere thought of Lt. Hawkeye visiting. Neville pulled a seat out for him and, as he sat, reached for some toast.

"Who's Hawkeye?" Neville asked, pouring some pumpkin juice.

"Mustang's...she used to work for him. Sort of like a secretary," Ed explained, gesturing along with his words. "She was scary. Always made sure that he did all his work, the lazy asshole."

Neville snorted into his goblet, earning looks from the other students. They seemed to lose interest quickly, looking back to their meals. Ed sighed heavily, tearing a hunk of bread from a loaf and chomping on it with irritance.

"Dear God, I'm not used to being ignored," the teen growled around the masticated food. Neville didn't say anything, so he plowed on. "Seriously - I'm a transfer student. I'm a foreigner. What do I have to do to get people to show a shred of interest in me?" He looked at his friend's face, surprised to see him shaking his head.

"People are really interested," Neville contradicted, gently and quietly. Ed couldn't figure out how he was a Gryffindor, being such a stark opposite to the rest of his housemates. "It's just that...everyone's so nervous. There's loads of bad stuff going on, and after the school was attacked last year, nobody's been so keen to take chances. Add in the rumors--"

"What rumors?!" Ed interrupted, dropping his silverware. He hadn't heard a thing.

"Well..." Neville began hesitantly, but dove right in, speaking quietly and in a high-pitched voice. "People are saying that you're a Death Eater or a spy for You-Know-Who or the ministry or a murderer or a criminal...or that you and Professor Mustang are...well, you know...gay and...sleeping together."

Ed blinked, not sure how to react. He didn't even understand half the terms. And his left arm was suddenly freezing.

"FWRAGHK!!" Ed gasped, repossessing his arm. A quick glance revealed a translucent man who looked just as shocked as he was. "Oh...Nick? Sorry, I didn't see you. What's up?"

The ghost smiled at him hesitantly.

"Well, that's all right. I'm used to it. And nothing's really new. So, how're you, Edward?" he asked, crossing his arms. Ed, having just taken a bite of bread bigger than the inside of his mouth, attempted to answer.

"Wrghf urmn shwa gomff--" he swallowed loudly, looking apologetically at the ghost. "Sorry. I'm doing pretty well, I guess."

"You're a Weasley in the making," Nick scoffed cheerfully. "I've been listening to Ronald speak through mouthfuls for seven years now. It would seem that it's a trait you share."

"It's not genetic, believe me," a redheaded girl interrupted from across from him. Ed looked at her, lips tightening. She met his eyes and smiled. "No offense; it's just, I've spent my whole life trying to block out Ron's horrible manners. You're so alike in that regard - it's like I've known you for quite some time now."

Ed popped his bottom lip, temporarily distracted by the flood of owls coming down to the tables. Four seats down, a white owl landed in front of Potter, instantly attracting the attention of six or seven younger students. He assumed he looked surprised, since Ginny leaned over the table, crossing her arms under her rather expansive breasts, and flicked her long hair out of her face.

"I really do need to thank you, though," she stated quietly, voice barely audible over the excited chatter surrounding Potter and his mail. Ed cocked his head in confusion, and she chuckled, eyes lighting on a candle. "Ron told me about it just after we got back home from school last year...and I didn't know what to do. I don't know all the details about it, but he told me that he, Harry, and Hermione weren't planning on coming back this year. If you hadn't gone and...well, saved Sirius like that...if you hadn't done that and made him come here again over the summer, he wouldn't be here right now. He told me that he realized he couldn't leave. Thank you so much for bringing him back."

Ed shrugged, brows knitting. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Potter watching him.

"But I don't get it," Ed said, making sure he was just loud enough for the teenager to hear him. "Why would Potter choose to stay here if he'd decided beforehand that he was going to leave?"

Potter stood up, glaring at him. Ed simply looked back at him and tapped his fork against his plate. The dark-haired teen stood still for a moment, the bushy-haired Hermione next to him gripping his sleeve at the elbow. He looked down again, startled, and his hand traveled to his forehead. Immediately, he clapped her shoulder, leaned in next to her, and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, standing up with him.

"I'll see you at lunch, Ginny," Potter murmured, waving at her. She nodded back, waving. Ed pursed his lips.

"You seem to know him well," The blonde deadpanned. "You two, uh...?" She shook her head.

"For a couple of days, I suppose," she confessed, running a hand through her hair. Everything she did made Ed wonder. Ginny Weasley was an enigma and a half. "But we didn't stay together for very long. I thought he liked me...and he said he did. But he just broke up with me a little while after we got together. I didn't know...that's the weird thing. After, he kept apologizing. I just don't get it."

"What's not to get?" Ed asked, messing with his left glove. Ginny looked at him strangely, and he quickly removed his hand. "It's not that weird, right?"

"The break up I understand," she arched a thin and clearly plucked brow; the blonde had never seen such plucked brows. They held him in awe. "It's how he acted afterwards that confuses me. It's like he was...I took it for grief, since Professor Dumbledore just died right about then...but it was like nothing I'd ever seen from him. He looked like he was going to cry all the time. I saw him in the library once a few days after we broke up - he was just staring off into space. It was scary."

"I see," Ed murmured, reaching for his bag. Neville chipped in at last.

"Oh, yeah; he was really out of it at the end of last year. I mean, he saw Professor Dumbledore die right before his eyes. I'd probably have had a nervous breakdown right away," the other boy sighed. "Harry shook like mad at night. It was like he was freezing or scared or something. It freaked me out."

"What's going on?" Roy, Ed had noticed many, many months ago, has an uncanny ability to show up out of nowhere and have all the answers. There was never anything that freaked him out more. "It sounds like you're interrogating these two."

"They're talking, I'm listening, and we're all happily planning to skip our first class, at this rate," Ed muttered, standing up. "Neville, you coming or what?"

"Before that," Roy interrupted, laying a hand on Ed's shoulder. "Professor McGonagall wants you to go see Madam Pomfrey. She said it was important - and besides, you can get your chest treated. Your pet is evil."

"Whatever," Ed managed, going slightly red. He couldn't see it, of course, but he felt it getting hotter and hotter. It was embarrassing.

And, regardless, he knew he'd be taking a trip to the greenhouses soon.

THIS IS A BREAK LINE; IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE STORY.

"I'm back," Ed called, waiting for a response he knew he wasn't getting. After hearing a shuffle from behind the plants, the blonde, accepting that it was likely the most he was ever going to get out of the older man, clapped his hands together and created a crawl-hole. He made a mental note to create a more permanent one later. "No infections or anything, right?"

The first thing to meet his eyes was a scowl; Ed raised an eyebrow.

"Unfortunately," Severus finally answered. The younger man gave him a hesitant grin; his voice was awfully soft. "And, thanks to your irrational philanthropy, I remain well-fed in spite of your much-invited absence."

"Clearly, you're doing fine," Ed murmured, amused by the older man's extensive vocabulary. "I noticed you didn't ask where I was. Oh, you did? Well, I was visiting my brother in the hospital. How's he doing? Fine, thank--"

"I don't particularly care," the brunette stressed. "And you'd be better off redirecting your benevolence toward a more enthusiastic participant. Regardless of your initial intentions, if the person to whom you are doing these things is unwilling, then you are committing the equivalent of emotional rape."

A part of Ed's mind screamed that this man wasn't worth any effort, but the more compassionate parts of it took precedence. Instead of responding with words, the teen moved forward and lifted the man's shirt. The bandages around his shoulder were stained brown and red, with a graying and translucent patch near the edges, where the wrapping was thinnest.

"You're gonna have to eat better," he grimaced, the fingers of his left hand rubbing the material and finding it soaking wet. His mandatory year of medical training was coming back to him. At once, he almost thanked the Amestrian Military for not exempting him from it. "You're sweating. A lot. It's going to mix with the bacteria on and in your body and'll result in an infection if you don't start improving your diet. I really don't want to see any more gangrene."

Severus glared at him.

"Obviously, you've undergone basic medical training. But you're missing something crucial," he growled. "Why do you think I'm sweating in the first place?"

"Fuck," Ed swore, remembering how cold the weather was around the area. He laid his flesh hand against the man's neck, ignoring the look of surprise he received. "High fever, thready pulse, sweat…you lied. You already have an infection. Where?"

Severus didn't answer, and – slightly panicked – Ed began running his left hand down the skin of the older man's back. It made sense now – his speech was soft because of the fever. It was so obvious. When he didn't find anything on his back, the teen used the same hand to squeeze the man's thighs and calves. Finally, just as he was about to give up, the injury became apparent. The man's ankle was purple and swollen. Swallowing hard, Edward looked up at him.

"You can't stay out here anymore," he murmured, hand stilling about six centimeters from the purple flesh. Black eyes met gold in an indignant contest of will. "I know you don't care if you die, but I'm taking care of you. If you die, everything I've done is worthless."

"It already is," Severus retaliated, a little fire back in his voice. "I'll ruin you."

"Whatever," Ed hissed, giving the man's ankle a hard squeeze. "I'll just go back to my old job if I'm caught."

"So, the military employs capital offenders?" the ex-professor asked sarcastically. Ed nodded.

"Don't even get into that. You'd be amazed with who they let in."

"You do realize that you're sheltering a wanted criminal, Elric, and that in doing so are committing a crime worthy of a Dementor's Kiss, correct?" he was serious now, but Ed ignored him. Instead, he tugged the man's shirt down, his cloak over his body, and fastened it. He tried to pull him upright, but failed with his first attempt. Severus scoffed. "Apparently, physical strength is not an Amestrian Officer's strongest point."

"I've been elsewhere lately," the blonde replied dryly, hooking the man's remaining arm over his shoulder and heaving him to his feet. The man was nearly as light as Sirius had been. Apparently, he was developing a habit of being a crutch for severely malnourished men.

"I can't stay in the dorms," Severus rasped, struggling weakly. Ed rolled his eyes.

"I can't, either. As it is, I'm sharing a room with a professor – privately. Having you there wouldn't be much of a problem," the blonde laid out for him. Severus seemed to accept this, as he ceased his struggle and instead became something of a dead weight. He only resisted again when the door finally came into view.

"What if you're seen?" the man attempted to dig his heels into the ground. His legs collapsed under him, either from exhaustion or pain, and he cast Ed a withering glare. Ed sighed, completely aware that the older man was not concerned for him.

"If that happens, you'll have even less to worry about, you masochist," the teen answered with a brutal heave. "Besides, it's not like anyone's going to be out. It's almost midnight."

Even as he said this, though, his actions contradicted his words. He pulled the hood on Severus' cloak more securely over his head and wrapped an arm around his waist. Fully supporting his bulk, Ed began his trek up toward the castle, making haste in his trip.

And it was quiet enough to think.

Logically, Ed couldn't figure out why he was helping Severus. The older man had hit the nail right on the head when he'd called Edward a philanthropist earlier. The fact that he was aiding a wanted criminal fit into that, too. A year ago, he likely would've ignored him, instead leaving him to his own devices.

But he had undoubtedly changed. Of course he had changed.

He stumbled dangerously about ten meters from the entrance to the castle, and Severus let out a small sound that could've been a groan. After re-steadying himself, he continued his walk.

Severus' breathing was becoming more labored by the minute. Edward cast a worried glance at his temporarily conjoined twin, taking in the grimace and abnormally pale skin. He had no doubt that the older man was holding back more than a few highly decorated phrases. What worried him most, however, was that he wasn't fighting anymore.

"We're almost there," Ed reassured him, unsure why he was doing so. They reached the door seconds later, only to have Edward fumble with it while attempting to open it. Once he'd managed, he pulled both into the room, shutting the door behind him. Roy lifted a hand in greeting from the desk, not bothering to look up as he spoke.

"I'd have helped you with the door, but I'm a little busy. My substitute gave some ridiculous pop quiz on the importance of matches," the teen's superior officer explained blandly. Ed nodded toward his back, wondering how he'd explain Severus to his fuck-buddy. Shifting the injured man again and vowing to explain it to Roy later, he began toward the bathroom. "Oh, and I don't know who you have with you, but he smells like Hell. Get him in the bath, patch him up, and give him some of my clothes. We'll talk when you're done."

Ed sighed heavily, well aware of what Roy meant. Severus weakly arched a brow.

"Remus was right. 'You can fool all the senses but one: the nose never lies'," the teenager explained, shutting the door to the bathroom behind him and leading the older man to the marble bathtub. "You reek of blood and the smell from the gangrene is soaked into your clothes. Since you can't possibly do it yourself, I'm going to give you a bath."

Severus tensed slightly and lifted his head to stare at the blonde. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then the older man nodded, as if in understanding.

"Very well," he conceded, letting his shoulders slump. Ed immediately unfastened the robe and pulled it back, tossing it to the side and turning the water on. He made sure the temperature was decent before plugging the drain and returning to his task. "I admit that it would be…difficult, to say the least."

Ed nodded in agreement, undoing the buttons on Severus' shirt. They were small. The teen realized, about halfway down the shirt, that it had obviously been tailored and that the fabric itself would've been extremely expensive. Everything about his wardrobe, no matter how tattered it had become, screamed that he had once been wealthy. It brought Ed to wonder how he had gotten into this condition.

Upon reaching the final button, he slipped the garment off the man's body and flung it in the general direction of the robe. When he went to start on the pants, a hand touched his left. He looked up.

"You're not asking me anything," Severus observed in a curious and grateful voice. Ed could understand – he had to know that the blonde could tell about his past lifestyle and, as was apparent by the man's built chest, the physical attributes that wouldn't have gone with it. "That's unexpected."

Ed shrugged, electing to not answer him. Instead, he returned to the slacks, attacking the button. It popped off before he could even try to get it through the hole. Raising an eyebrow and well aware that he might be seconds from viewing another man's parts, he took a deep breath and tugged the pants down over his hips.

And the underwear.

He was careful not to look as he turned Severus and slid him into the tub. The water was high enough, so he reached around the man and turned it off. It was only then that he realized the extent of the damage done to the body before him. The man's torso was littered with scars and still-open sores. His lithe form was battered beyond belief. Ed could scarcely continue his task, eyes struggling to remain locked with Severus'. As he rolled up his sleeves and reached for the soap, the man's voice permeated the room.

"The man you're living with is quite…observant," he murmured. Ed nodded, slowly soaping a washcloth and slipping the bandage off Severus' shoulder. "But that's because he's an officer, right?"

"Yeah," Ed confirmed. He wet the man's upper half and began to scrub his chest. "My superior officer, actually – his name's Roy Mustang. He's a brigadier general and a State Alchemist. Actually, I think you've heard of him – you mentioned him before. He's the Flame Alchemist."

Severus' brows furred – or contracted in pain – when Ed ran the cloth over an open sore on his shoulder. He let out a weak chuckle.

"Anticlimactic, isn't it? The hero of the Ishbal Rebellion is teaching about matches," Severus derided. Seeing the humor in his words, Ed laughed and rinsed the cloth.

They didn't speak for the rest of the bath, with Ed gently scrubbing off weeks – if not months – of dirt, blood, and who knows what from the brunette's body. The fact that the skin beneath his hands was so pale shocked him; had Severus ever been out in the sun? The water was a clear brown by the time he got to his hair. Making an executive decision, he then drained the water and refilled the tub.

The silkiness of the man's hair shocked him. Ed's hesitant hands ran through it like it was water itself, running into the occasional clump of what he suspected – but didn't dare assume – was blood. It took three shampooings before he could get through the whole mess of black without resistance. Through the whole ordeal, though, Severus had kept his eyes closed, as if enjoying it.

Well, Ed thought, that was just dandy.

After finally conditioning his hair, the blonde again drained the bath, hoisted Severus to his feet, and dried him roughly. He yanked Roy's robe off the door and set in on the counter. He would have to bandage the older man first, and that was no easy task.

He prepared himself as he reached for the gauze.

"HEY, LOOK! IT'S A BREAK! GO AHEAD AND TAKE THAT POTTY TIME!"

In a word, the situation was peculiar.

Roy scratched his way through the stack of tests, armed with a new quill FILLED with red ink. He finally understood why teachers enjoyed the color so much – it was violent and channeled frustration well. It said "GOD DAMN IT, ARE YOU AN INCOMPETENT IMBECILE?!?" in not so many words. And it held his attention.

But he should have been seriously concerned about the person Edward had brought in with him. He hadn't bothered to turn around to look, having been too focused on someone's attempt at explaining that matches should be cleaned with soap and water a few hours before use, but he had recognized the scent almost immediately.

Necrosis.

Phage Dena.

Gangrene.

The words swirled around his head the moment they became clear. He knew the scent – it was one he'd learned in Ishbal, one he'd smelled when walking the streets. It was something he had never learned to ignore like the rest of his brigade or rebel troops or the terrified children who burst into tears at the very sight of him.

It was death.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind as he went on to the next paper. This girl knew her stuff. She didn't get homework in on time very often, but she obviously understood the concept. He switched to black ink to mark his grade book and scratched the score down.

Ginny Weasley – 100.

She was the only one, though. The second highest score was a Ravenclaw boy's. He once again focused on the work in front of him and lost track of time.

And then the door opened.

Roy picked up his head and turned it just in time to see Edward seat a man easily a foot taller than him, one hand catching the towel over his head as it attempted to flutter to the ground. He was dressed in his robe, as requested, and slumped, as if forcefully resigned to allowing the teen to care for him.

Ed probably wore him down, Roy surmised with an amused smirk.

The alchemist surveyed the man. His ankle was swollen and purple, but not…dying. It was just an infected break. He stepped closer, raising an eyebrow, and then stopped dead in his tracks. The robe's left sleeve was empty.

Oh. That explained it.

"Have you handled the necrosis?" Roy asked. Ed took a moment, as if he was unfamiliar with the term, but then let out a soft "Oh" of comprehension.

"Gangrene?" he asked. Roy nodded, propping a hand on his hip. "Yeah. It was pretty bad. I had to take off everything left of his arm to save him. Can you do something for his ankle? You have more experience."

Roy shrugged, not entirely sure. All he'd ever done was heat the instruments Marcoh had used to dig out bullets or hack off rotting flesh. Nevertheless, he kneeled before the anonymous man, quill in hand, and thought for a moment.

"This might hurt," Roy murmured, pressing it to the man's flesh. He worked quickly and efficiently, stopping only when a familiar voice shrieked at him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Ed dropped next to him, eyes as wide as platters as he took in the array. "You're planning to kill his ankle?! Seriously - you think inducing gangrene is going to help him?!"

"That's not what I'm doing," Roy explained, beginning a second array and continuing - though without his usual wit - to clarify what he was doing. "I'm cutting the blood flow during the transmutation. I'll kill the infection for the most part, and then drain it out in liquid form the dead...stuff. When that's done, I'll mend the break, resume blood flow, and give him a healing potion." Ed raised an eyebrow as Roy put the finishing touches on his third array.

"Right...so, how you gonna get a healing potion?" the teen asked, standing again. Roy cracked his knuckles.

"I stole some from Madam Pomfrey when I went to get my face treated," he revealed, watching a look of shock and not-so-well-concealed admiration flicker across his subordinate's face. "And she told me to ask you to go see her - something about Al's kidney or liver or something. An organ of some sort. Anyway, stand back. I'm activating this."

With the declaration, Roy pressed his hands to the arrays, mind going blank in the familiar action - for a moment. And then, out of nowhere, Ed's voice rang back in his head, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

People who die in the other world...their lives are what fuel our transmutations.

He tried to block it out as he continued his work, but it was there. It coursed through him, and for the first time, he was aware of the overwhelming strength under his control. Whether he liked it or not, he had to acknowledge it.

The transmutation was over in seconds. While Ed fretted about, examining the smudged arrays and whatnot, Roy simply sat, trying to regain his composure. When he nearly had it back, Ed spoke again and destroyed it.

"Severus, can you move your foot?" he asked, and Roy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Severus Snape. The dead criminal, right?" he asked warily; Ed's shoulders stiffened in response. Roy sighed heavily at the physical confirmation Edward had so graciously awarded him. "I suppose the spare bed'll be put to use after all," the general sighed in resignation. "Although we, Edward, will plead that we knew nothing of his identity."

If anything, the shock on Edward's face was worth the concession. The teen's mouth had been opened when he turned - no doubt he was about to defend his decision - and now remained that way. Roy would've told him to shut it, but he was too busy yanking the towel off the man's head. The man's eyebrows were level with his hairline.

"You two are madmen," Snape shook his head, his staticky hair going every which way. "Absolute madmen."

"An old adage, Professor, says that it takes one to know one," Roy retaliated, checking the bandaging. After confirming that yes, Edward had indeed proven his worth and properly treated the wound, the general combed his fingers through the ex-professor's hair until the mess behaved for him.

"It's past one a.m., Severus. You should get some sleep," Ed murmured, handing his new roommate a pair of Roy's pajama bottoms. "You're putting those on yourself."

"That's cold, Edward," Roy teased half-heartedly. Maybe the time was getting to him, too. "Although I'd expect the limbless alchemist to know best."

All of a sudden, something was flying toward his head. Roy thought maybe Peeves had snuck in again, like he had the day after Ed first went to the Gryffindor dorms, but then he realized that the object was white and red and had feathers coming out of it. His mind screamed that it was a chicken and his eyes said it was a thing and his instinct just said SNAP YOUR FINGERS AND BLOW IT UP! And so, not being one to ignore what instinct told him to do, he did just that.

Except that he wasn't wearing gloves. He had just barely remembered this when a POOFing noise met his ears and his nose felt plugged up. The thing fell to his lap just in time for him to stare at it dumbly and reflect on his chronic need for sleep.

It was a pillow.

By this point, Snape had somehow pulled the pants on and was attempting to stretch out of the robe. He muttered just loudly enough to be heard.

"Dear God, I hate Albus," he grit his teeth. "To what further degradations am I to descend?"

"Severus, watch it," Ed warned. The ragged man gave a hollow grimace in response. Even Roy could admit that he knew better than to push it with a sleep-deprived Fullmetal Alchemist. "Or you sleep in the fireplace."

"I've had more interesting sleeping quarters threatened by Gryffindors before," Snape murmured, tugging at the blankets. "But I lament in admitting that your threat is sufficient. So long as I'm not exposed to your nightly activities, I have a chance at escaping with some sanity or dignity. Good night."

After exchanging more nightly farewells, the other two slipped into bed, a certain black-haired officer resigned to a night of insomnia.

"HEY, LOOK! IT'S A BREAK! GO AHEAD AND TAKE THAT POTTY TIME!"

Well, you've squandered an indeterminate amount of minutes reading this installment of Grindewald - hope you liked it! As it stands, this is actually a combination of about three separate chapters, so the fic's getting progressively shorter...while the chapters are getting too long for it to be allowed. I really should've split this, but who cares? I'm too busy anyway.

Please review - and enter my contest! Good luck.