Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all recognizable items from it belong to J.K. Rowling & Warner Brothers. Supernatural and all recognizable items from the show belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers. Anything else that is original material is mine. I can only wish I was as creative as to think of these brilliant ideas first.

Genre: Action/Drama/Suspense/Romance

Rating: MA (for a reason)

Warning: Will contain major SLASH themes. Canon-Compliant up until Book 6 of Harry Potter, and changes Supernatural to include Harry (except for the back-story that occurred before Season 1). All lyrics at the beginning of chapters, as well as story titles, belong to their respective authors.

Summary: The war against Voldemort ends and Harry is victorious, but at what cost? Harry passes through the veil after Sirius and ends up in a world without any Wizarding society. Harry starts his new life and attends university with Sam Winchester. Harry becomes an intricate part of the lives of the Winchester brothers before his secret is revealed.

Author's Note: This is the last warning you will receive about the extremely explicit, graphic, and sexual events (SLASH) that occur in this chapter.

You Leave the World Behind

Moriarty's Minion

Chapter 2:

"When Harry Met Dean"

"We got to make tonight

a night to remember;

We're going hard and strong

again and again."

- Foreigner, A Night to Remember

PREVIOUSLY…

At that moment Harry felt such a fool. He had been so desperate to find the one person he never could have, that he had traded his entire world for the slim hope of finding his godfather.

He was alone and, for the first time since his 3rd Year, Harry hated his godfather. Sirius had left him with one cold, chilling truth until the day he died:

Sirius had wished for a world without wizards.

FOUR MONTHS LATER…

Dean tapped the steering wheel nervously.

His baby, the black '67 Impala, was parked in the shadows cast between two streetlamps. Sam hadn't laid eyes on the car since he left, but the Impala was like an extension of Dean. He knew it would take all of two seconds before Sam figured out his elder brother was in the area.

Dean sighed. He should have stayed away. He shouldn't have taken a job in the same state as his younger brother. Hell, he shouldn't be doing a job in the same time zone as Sam's college. The impulse of a big brother had over come his common sense. When Sammy had gone to Kindergarten (all three schools), Dean had been with him. High Schools, he'd lost count of how many, had seen the pair of brothers arriving and leaving together.

It was wrong that Dean shouldn't be there for Sam's first day at Stanford University. It wasn't right. Dean had been as much as a parent, if not more so, than his father to Sam. Dean had earned the right to be there to see his brother's triumph.

So he'd come to make it right… even if Sam didn't know he wasn't on his own.

Dean had arrived in the cover of darkness and watched hordes of his little brother's fellow students unload their cars and fill their new dorm rooms. He was disappointed that Sam hadn't been one of the late arrivals, while simultaneously pleased that he wouldn't run the risk of being spotted. He'd depended on Sammy's anal-retentive nature to move himself into the dorm first thing in the morning.

Dean felt his nerves relax as a Led Zepplin tune began to play on the radio. There was nothing left to do, but wait it out until morning and Sammy's first day of classes. It wouldn't be the first time he'd spent the night in his car, though he wished it was going to be one of those nights he wouldn't be alone. He felt a smile tug at the edge of his lips as he remembered hot nights in the back seat and a warm body beneath him.

He shifted in his seat as his pants became tight, trying to give Big Dean his breathing room. He glanced out the window and at the side streets. This was a college town, there had to be a bar around here somewhere.

Surely there would be some hot young freshmen in it… shit. Sammy might be in one of those bars tonight, blowing off steam before the big day.

Dean pulled out the map of Central California he had purchased in town earlier that day. He began looking for city centers further outside the college territory. Along the sides of the map were printed business ads, enticing people to join in on hiking trails, science museums and more. There was a bar called Two of a Kind listed, and it was almost 40 miles outside Stanford, California. He doubted Sammy would be making an appearance so far from campus. From the sound of the name and the two Aces behind the name, Dean thought they might even have some poker action.

After a final moment of indecision he started the Impala and abandoned his safe hiding spot. He turned Zepplin up on the radio and settled in for his ride.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

Harry smiled warmly at the hotel employee across the counter.

"Reservation for Potter," Harry said.

The clerk, a middle-aged blond woman with a nametag that proclaimed she called Becky, returned his smile.

"One moment, sir," she replied, already tapping away at the keyboard. There was a small beep from the computer. "There we are, room for one?"

Harry tried to look reassuring, after all he was used to this response from hotel clerks. "My parents couldn't make the trip up. I'm on my own."

"Oh," Becky said. "We have a policy that anyone underage needs to be accompanied by an adult. I'm sorry, but I have to ask for identification."

Harry was already reaching for the fake ID he'd had made in New York almost a year ago. After all, he didn't exist in this world. He needed documentation to show he was actually who he said he was. He needed ID if he was going to have a car, apply for credit, get a home, get a job, or even go to college.

Of course he could always just use his magic for his own selfish purposes, but he rarely resorted to it. He felt Albus hovering behind his ear, whispering how to do so would be the start of becoming a Dark Lord.

Harry promptly told Albus to stuff it, and that until the old coot had slept hungry on the streets of London he wasn't allowed to talk about magical ethics. Harry had tried to find work normally, to find clothing, to find a shelter that would take him in. he had failed to do so.

He had been forced to resort to stealing clothes and food before he finally used his magic to his advantage. The world hadn't ended and Harry was fairly certain he wasn't going to go to hell for it.

Becky took the ID and compared the picture (non-moving) to Harry's features. She seemed surprised when she saw his age.

"You're looking at colleges?" she asked.

"I'm from abroad," he said vaguely "I had to retake a lot of classes to qualify for college. Took me awhile."

She looked apologetic and afraid that she had somehow been judging him for starting college so late. Most Americans started at 18 or 19; Harry was already 22 in this world.

"Have you thought about Stanford University at all?" she asked, honestly interested.

"I have actually," Harry confided, pulling the pamphlet on Stanford out of his duffel as proof. "I'm headed there for an interview tomorrow morning."

"My niece went there," Becky proudly informed him. "It's a wonderful school."

Harry nodded in agreement. He had made a list of things he wanted in a school, largely a list of things he hadn't enjoyed about Hogwarts. He wanted to go someplace warm, where he could change the color of his skin to something besides pale. He wanted a good school where he would have to work and had a good reputation. He also wanted someplace big. Hogwarts only held a few hundred students, and he'd known them all. In the war, he'd even killed some classmates.

Oh, yeah, he wanted someplace with too many faces to care about any in particular.

Stanford had made the list, but he wasn't overly excited about it. Stanford had an excellent education system and it had taken the last four months of Harry pretending to be in "summer school" to catch up on his Muggle education. Hogwarts had done a surprising amount to keep their students up to par with the Muggle world, but they could have done more.

"Alright, Mr. Potter," Becky said, interrupting his thoughts, "everything seems to be in order. Here is your ID back, your room key, and a copy of your reservation."

Harry accepted the packet back gladly.

"The elevators are just over there."

Harry walked down the hallway, glancing at the items as he put them away in his duffel. He paused in the elevator to study his ID. He'd considered changing his name, had even purchased a book on names and their meanings.

He run through all the possible options: James Evans, Evan James, Evan Lillian, James Potter, Sirius Potter, Evan Black, James Black, and so on and so on.

In the end, he just couldn't justify a name change to himself. If he were in the same world as before than he might have considered it, but this world was new. Here he could be the same as before but with the anonymity he so desperately desired.

Plus, he wanted Sirius to be able to track him down… if his godfather even decided to.

Harry, whether it was rational or not, felt a little hurt by Sirius' choice of worlds. He knew his godfather hadn't meant to, but it was slightly personal that Sirius hadn't chosen a world where Harry existed much like he was. Sirius hadn't even chosen a world at all similar to their old one.

If Harry had truly thought about it, he should have chosen a world where Voldemort never existed and his family had all lived.

Somewhere in that guilt and anger Harry had placed the blame on Sirius and would not seek him out. Instead, Harry was determined to start over.

And what better place than at college?

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

"Two of a Kind" Bar

Dean had always known that Sam had gotten the brains in the family. Dean didn't really find that much to be jealous about on that front when they were younger, but every now and then he wished it had been him with the brains.

This was definitely one of those times.

The out of the way bar he'd found, Two of a Kind, was far from what he'd thought it would be. He'd been looking forward to getting a stiff drink, listening to some rock music, and playing some cards with strangers too stupid to win.

He had not expected to walk into a gay bar.

Not that Dean had any problems with that sort of thing. For a hunter, Dean felt he was pretty tolerant about such things. To be fair, those who slay the supernatural find the idea of homosexuality pretty minimal in terms of offensiveness. Hell, he'd even experimented a little after Sammy had left. His father had intensified his search for the Yellow-Eyed-Demon, and had Dean running his own hunts.

There had been a particularly grateful young gay man in Phoenix that had been relieved to have his home become ghost-free. The guy was hot (for another male) and Dean was only human… and, sure, maybe a little wasted at the time.

Dean shook his head and debated looking for a new place, but damn if he wasn't tired of driving. Plus, he could use his charm to get a drink from a dude just as easily as a chick at any other bar. Yes, he was that handsome.

He spotted an empty chair at the bar, looked at the comfortable leather backing, and his choice was made that much simpler.

Dean sighed as he embraced the comfort of his chair.

"What can I get you?" asked the blond bartender with tight white jeans, and an even tighter red shirt. His name, Christian, was written in black lettering over a pair of diamond aces.

Dean ordered his bourbon and slipped the bill to the bartender.

Having neglected to do so when he came in, he let his father's training take over. He surreptitiously took in the bar around him, checking for warning signs of threats from the other patrons. He spotted a few bulges in coat pockets that he assumed were guns, and other bulges in pants that he pretended were actual weapons. He spotted a pair of brunettes in short dresses at a table by the fire exit.

He could practically hear his father's voice in his mind, "Always know your exits."

Dean smiled to himself at his own defiance of sitting at the bar, not protecting his back. As surprised as he was at the true nature of the bar, he was quickly becoming comfortable there. The music was to his taste, though he would have preferred less Bowie, and the service was fast.

He felt a boost to his ego, as he realized he was getting better service than the other patrons because of his good looks. Dean liked being appreciated. Hunting had given him a good body, and it deserved some recognition.

As the night wore on, his body was also starting to crave more of a physical appreciation of his body.

He'd never really done more with another guy after that one time in Phoenix, but mostly because of a lack of opportunity. Even then, it had been largely one sided and he'd only gotten a blowjob. A truly exceptional blowjob, Dean mentally corrected.

He shifted in his seat again, feeling Big Dean come alive.

Dean began checking out the customers still left in the bar. The brunettes by the exit were still there, and he was tempted to give up his opportunity for further experimentation at the prospect of a threesome. He wondered briefly if perhaps one of the ladies was not actually a lady. Dean wasn't sure how he felt about that.

At the bar, just a few stools away, was a well-built redhead. It looked as if he was chatting up the blond next to him though. As one o'clock rolled around, the youthful bartender had been replaced by a burly guy with salt and pepper hair and a massive beard. That was definitely a no-go.

He was surprised to see a group of college kids in a far corner, and immediately began looking for Sam. His heart began beating faster at the thought of getting caught by his younger brother as he tried to pick up a guy. Enjoying some experimentation was one thing, but he wasn't planning on coming out or anything. The group was sitting by the entrance to the hallway that housed the restrooms, and suddenly Big Dean was stirring for a different reason.

He tipped the new bartender, coincidentally named Bobby, and headed for the men's room.

He made a second sweep of the college kids in the booth, just to ensure that Sammy wasn't with them. He didn't see any potential playmates there either. He sighed but the urge to pee was beginning to overpower him.

Dean had seen worse bathrooms on his hunts.

As he washed his hands he heard a commotion from outside the bathroom. Instinctively he checked his inner jacket for his gun, but hadn't wanted to risk bringing it into the crowded bar. He hadn't left his silver knife in the car though. He slipped it up his sleeve and left the bathroom.

"Seriously, where is the real music?" demanded an accented voice from beyond the hallway.

Dean felt his heart relax as he realized the commotion was just someone making a fuss about the music. Not that he disagreed with the argument.

He liked the accent too.

He peered around the corner as casually as he could, making his way back to his stool. He liked what he saw, too; straight black hair, a slim but muscled frame, tight clothing revealing a truly remarkable ass, and a pearly white smile.

"I mean, come on," continued the distinctive voice, "where is the Zepplin?"

Bingo.

Dean waved a hand at Bobby the Bartender.

"Who's the music junkie?" Dean asked Bobby, having successfully flagged him down.

"Never seen him before," answered Bobby the Bartender, in his gruff voice, "probably a tourist."

Dean heard the slight insult intended with the word tourist, and figured Bobby the Bartender was including him in the statement. He ignored the impulse to bark something rude in return at the larger man.

Dean would just have to settle for bossing Bobby the Bartender around.

"How about you send him something from me?" Dean asked, sliding a bill across the counter.

Bobby the Bartender glared at the offered bill, before swiping it off the counter and turning to the drinks beyond. Dean settled back into his seat and watched the waitress bring the drink to the jukebox, where the accented stranger was still searching for something worth his while.

Dean felt pretty confident that he'd find something worthwhile in a few minutes, even if it wasn't music.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

Harry turned to the waitress, a confused look crowding his handsome features.

"I didn't order any drinks, Miss,"

Harry could tell by the surprised look on her face that the waitress wasn't used to being treated with much respect. She seemed to like it.

"This is from the hunk in leather at the bar," she said, holding out the drink to him.

Harry felt his face flush and then flame with heat. He hadn't anticipated anything exciting happening the night before his interview. He'd wanted to cut loose so he'd found a bar online that was a distance from the university. No point in getting drunk in front of anyone that could be involved with Stanford. Knowing Harry's luck he'd puke on the shoes of the person giving him his interview.

Harry stared at the drink he'd been sent. So far, in this world, he hadn't been hit on. His only romantic entanglements had been during his final year at Hogwarts and during the war. He took the glass, trying to keep his hand from shaking. As embarrassed as he was, he experienced a new feeling: giddiness.

This is why he had chosen to go to college. The rush of joy at being recognized for being himself and not the all-powerful hero of the Wizarding world was delightful. He knew that this "leather man" hadn't been interested in sleeping with anyone but the man he saw at the Jukebox. Harry couldn't say that about anyone from his old world; they only saw their hero.

He checked out his new friend at the bar as the waitress walked away. Harry's gaze raked over the handsomely rugged features of the man. He wasn't dressed for a night out on the town, which Harry appreciated. He didn't want to talk to some pretty boy all night. Seeing the build on the man, Harry found that talking was the last thing he wanted to do all night with the stranger.

He was suddenly aware that he should do something with the proffered glass, and stupidly downed the entire glass. Harry recognized the burning of Jack Daniels down his throat, and used all of his Occlumency skills to not let his discomfort show. He wasn't used to all the hard liquor, let alone in such large quantities.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

Dean had seen the younger man flush with embarrassment and found it… cute. At first he thought his gift was going to be turned down, but then he spotted the nervousness his prey was showing.

Dean felt his odds of getting with a freshman might be increasing by the second.

He gulped as he saw the younger man drain the glass in one go. Dean felt as if he'd never seen anything so hot in his whole life.

He patted the seat next to him, before realizing how eagerly he was doing it. Dean tried to relax and return to the zen of his playboy existence. He was the experienced one here, he shouldn't be acting like a teenager just because the guy was hot.

Dean pulled himself out of his daze as the stranger approached him.

"Thanks for the drink…"

"Dean," he said, filling the space appropriately.

"Harry," said the younger man, settling into the stool next to him.

"I hear you like Zepplin," Dean said, starting their conversational ball rolling.

Harry's face reddened slightly, "I didn't mean to be so loud… or rude. It's a bar, you know? They should have the basics."

"Absolutely," said Dean, nodding in agreement. "So you think Zepplin is basic?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Harry amended, verbally reversing. "I just think it's a basic requirement for any public space, really."

"So you like good music and you drink like a champ," Dean summarized, smirking. "What else can I guy ask for?"

Harry was getting tired of blushing, but he was enjoying the giddiness of being hit on.

"Look," said Harry, wishing he didn't sound like such a girl, "I appreciate the drink, really I do. And you're hot, like ridiculously hot."

"But?" asked Dean.

"But I'm not used to all this," Harry explained, gesturing to the bar around them. "I'm not used to getting hit on or anything, and I'm just starting… school. And I'm kind of nervous and I think if you say one more flattering thing to me my face is going to light on fire. So would you mind just… just chatting for a while?"

Dean relaxed visibly. He had been afraid that Harry was going to turn him down. He was also pleased that he had chosen to hit on someone who was as equally new to, as he put it, "all this".

Dean found himself liking Harry even more than before.

"Sure," Dean said, smiling at him.

"Thanks," Harry replied. "How about I get you a drink this time?"

Oh yeah, Dean was really starting to like Harry.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOOoOoO

As soon as they were out of the bar, Dean's muscled arm slipped around Harry's shoulder. Harry smiled in thanks at the warmth it added to the unusually cool night.

"Where's your car?"

Dean smiled proudly at him, and nodded his head at the Impala.

Harry grinned when he saw it. "It suits you."

Before Dean could figure out what he meant by that statement, he felt Harry's lips on his own. He could taste the liquor in his mouth and on the tongue that suddenly filled his own.

He wasn't used to kissing someone who was just as aggressive as he was.

"I don't think I can wait for the hotel room," Harry muttered against his lips.

"You okay with the back seat?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Perfect."

Dean unlocked the car and held the backdoor open for Harry, saying, "Ladies first."

He and Harry both stopped in their tracks at the odd comment.

"Sorry," Dean apologized with a shrug of his shoulders, "habit."

"You weren't kidding about the whole experimentation thing, were you?" asked Harry.

Over the last two hours, Dean and Harry had opened up to one another. At least they had opened up as much as a Hunter who didn't want his brother to know he was in town, and a wizard looking at "normal" colleges could open up. Harry had been forced to lie to Dean and make him believe he was a freshman, rather than just applying. He didn't want Dean to think he was too young to mingle with. Dean, after several more drinks, had gone into detail about his reputation as a ladies man, something Harry assured him he richly deserved. Harry couldn't deny that he was getting excited as he listened to Dean's stories of sexual escapades. Dean liked having Harry to talk to; he'd missed having another guy to talk with since Sam had left to strike out on his own.

Sammy was the only topic Dean didn't talk to Harry about.

"Is it a problem?" Dean asked, hiding his anxiety.

"No," said Harry, grinning.

Dean punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Get in there, Dick."

"Exactly."

Dean took a moment to register the dirty innuendo before climbing into the backseat after him.

(A/N: This is the beginning of the extreme SLASH portion of the chapter. If this material offends you, simply skip this section of the chapter and jump to the next in-text Author's Note.)

Without saying a word, Harry's hand began to travel slowly up Dean's thigh. He massaged Big Dean through his pants, making him moan. Not to be undone, Dean worked Harry's shirt up and off of him, teasing the younger man's flesh with his tongue. Dean made sure that not a single exposed piece of skin went untouched. Finally, Dean popped the button on Harry's fly and undid the zipper.

He reached into Harry's boxers and pulled out his dick, stroking it nice and steady. Harry started grinding backwards into the Impala's seat buckle. The older man groaned breathily in Harry's ear, but never stopped stroking.

"Want to grind against something else?" he asked Harry.

Harry nodded wordlessly. Like the master of the backseat that he was, Dean led Harry through a series of maneuvers that left them lying on top of each other. Harry wrapped his legs around Dean's waist, and sat up to completely reveal Big Dean.

"Now I know why you call it Big Dean," he said with a laugh, stroking said nicknamed body part.

Harry's other hand dove under Dean's shirt and began exploring. He pushed the T-shirt up higher, prompting Dean to raise his arms and allow the garment to be pulled off over his head. Both of Harry's hands began roaming more freely now, over his stomach and the light dusting of hair that led into his boxers, and over his erect nipples.

"God, you look amazing," Dean complimented him.

"You feel amazing," replied Harry.

Harry tried to toe off his sneakers and socks, but couldn't quite get them to co-operate.

"Let me," Dean offered. He slid himself backwards to reach his feet, and began removing the offending items. Once done with the shoes and socks, Dean began tugging on the ends of Harry's jeans. Harry lifted his hips so Dean could push his jeans and boxers down.

"Now you," ordered Harry.

Dean leaned up out of his crouched position, his head lightly connecting with the roof of the car, and slid his jeans straight down. Harry bent forward to help him ease the jeans down his hips.

Dean heard Harry mutter something about him and "sexy". He thought Harry was leaning down to push the jeans the rest of the way off, but then he felt Harry kiss Big Dean. His entire body shuddered, and felt a keening noise erupt from within him.

His hips automatically leaned forward. Harry needed no further prompting and was soon engulfing as much of Big Dean as possible. Dean's stomach filled and deflated rapidly as he breathed and exhaled deeply.

A hand reached out to his balls and began to cup them, then massage them between able fingers.

"Oh, God."

Harry's head rose and Dean saw the concern there.

"Is it, is it okay?"

Dean felt himself go incredulous at the insecurity in his lover's face. He leaned forward and began to suck on Harry's tongue.

"It's perfect," he assured him.

Harry smiled gratefully before leaning down to continue his task. Dean put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"It's too perfect," Dean clarified. "Any more and I'm going to be shooting like a teenager."

Harry kissed him soundly. "Do you want to fuck me, then?"

Dean nodded instantly.

Harry laid himself out along the backseat as Dean climbed into the front seat.

"Dean?"

Dean through him a reassuring look, before replying "Just getting a condom, Harry."

Harry whispered the lubrication spell as quietly as he could, not wanting his Muggle partner to hear him. Luckily for him, Dean was too enraptured in the search for the illusive condom in the glove box otherwise Dean might have grabbed the revolver from the glove box instead.

"Got it!"

Harry laughed breathlessly at the pride in Dean's voice. Dean climbed into the backseat, a string of condom wrappers dangling in his hand.

"Ambitious much?" Harry teased.

Dean nibbled his ear in response, yelping when Big Dean slid along Harry's passage. He raised his eyebrows in silent question.

"I'm prepared," Harry quipped.

"So I see."

Dean leaned forward again, claiming Harry's mouth with his own. Dean's smell was all around him, on the seats, and especially from the well built man writhing over him. Dean began grinding his pulsing erection against Harry's. An uncontrollable and overwhelming surge of erotic bliss coursed through him, leading him to…

"Oh God, stop!" Dean cried out.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked anxiously.

"We have to slow down," Dean warned him. "It's too much. I don't want to finish so early."

Harry nodded in compliance.

"Besides," Dean continued, the look of sly seduction returning to him. "Tonight's about experimenting right?"

Harry's eyebrows crossed in confusion.

In answer to the unspoken question Dean began kissing a trail down Harry's toned chest and abdominals. Harry wanted to ask if Dean was sure, to guarantee he wasn't pressuring him or anything. Dean had told him that the furthest he'd ever gone with another man was being on the receiving end of a blowjob. Now Dean was going to do that to him?

"Are you sure?"

In answer, Dean took a hesitantly slow lick of the head of Harry's penis. It didn't seem to deter him any, as Dean then swallowed all of Harry. As inexperienced as Dean was, Harry still felt the pleasure of being sucked.

Dean was paying the price for his inexperience, and he choked slightly. He took things slower the second time, only taking half the shaft and working from there. He remembered to sheath his teeth and set up a steady rhythm, letting Harry's slight thrusts fill his mouth.

Harry ran his arms over the tip of Dean's solid pecs, the sides of his rippling abs, around his firm arms, and gripped hard shoulders. He couldn't get over how amazingly fit the man was. Whoever ended up with Dean was the luckiest man in the world; and right now it was him. Not that he was complaining.

Not in the slightest.

Eventually Dean returned his mouth to Harry's. They kissed and the stroked each other for a few minutes before words returned to Dean.

"So how do we…" Dean trailed off.

"Get you inside me?"

Dean nodded.

"Start with a finger," Harry instructed. Dean trailed his fingers down the length of Harry's body. He stopped to fondle the younger man before finding the entrance he was looking for.

He watched Harry's pleasure as he moved from one finger to two, then to slight discomfort when three fingers stretched him.

"Does it hurt?" he asked Harry.

Harry shrugged indifferently, trying to reassure him. "Less than the pleasure, and eventually that's all that there is. I want this, Dean. I want you."

His fingers circled Big Dean's figure. "I'm pretty sure you want it, too."

"What gave me away?" Dean asked, smirk firmly in place.

Dean tore the wrapper off the condom and rolled it down his length. He pulled Harry towards him, and Harry laid a leg on each of his shoulders. Dean kissed each of his calves.

Harry moaned. Dean positioned himself where he thought Harry's hole would be. He pushed and gasped as he slowly entered him. He watched as Harry's eyes bulged and his mouth opened slightly. Dean pushed himself further into Harry, who was huffing and puffing beneath him.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked nervously. If Harry said no, he wasn't sure he could give up the amazing tightness and heat that surrounded him.

In answer Harry flexed his cheeks, and impaled himself further onto Big Dean.

"Keep going."

Dean was nothing, if not obedient. Dean pulled almost all the way back out and thrust back in, less slowly than the first time. He waited a moment to see how Harry responded. Seeing Harry's look of rapture, Dean decided it best to repeat the motion. He began getting a good rhythm going. Once he was confident with the motion of it, he remembered how this sometimes worked with some women. With an odd curiosity he wondered if the same idea could be applied to another man. Dean shifted his position so he was thrusting at a slightly different angle into Harry.

Giving into the curiosity he drew back all the way, and with one strong thrust –

"Ah!" Harry exclaimed.

"What!?" Dean demanded, immediately withdrawing from Harry. "What is it? Did I hurt you? What's wrong?"

Harry didn't waste a moment. He followed Dean's retreat and sat up with him. He straddled both sides of him.

"You just found the magic spot, Dean," Harry clarified. "Now find it again."

"Are you sure?"

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing Big Dean and positioning it beneath him.

Dean gasped as he felt Harry impale himself onto him, sheathing himself inside him.

Dean leaned his forehead against Harry's. The two began to kiss as Dean thrust upwards and Harry rocked on top of him. Dean knew the moment he found "the spot" again, as Harry bit Dean's lip at the contact.

Dean found himself inexplicably turned on by the coppery taste of his own blood. Harry sucked on the wound, and then shared his prize with Dean.

Dean pushed in and out, trying his best to hit his lover's prostate again. From the sounds Harry was making on top of him, and the look on his face, Dean knew his mission was accomplished.

"You feel so – unh – amazing."

"So do you," Harry told him. "You feel go-good."

He held Harry firmly and nibbled the sensitive spot he'd discovered on Harry's neck. Harry gasped. He could feel his orgasm mounting already, but he wanted to keep going. It felt so wonderful. A few more thrusts and Harry knew he'd be done for.

"Dean, I'm gonna shoot soon," Harry warned him.

Dean moaned in response.

Dean grabbed Harry's dick and started jacking him off feverishly. He heard Harry cry out, and then his fist was filling with warm, sticky liquid.

Dean buried himself inside Harry, and kissed him hard enough to break open his cut lip again. Moments later he came, harder even than Harry had. Harry had sensed the tension with Dean, and began to rise and fall on top of Dean faster than ever.

Dean wasn't sure what came next, but Harry seemed content to just keep kissing him.

Dean felt Harry pull away from his lips and cringed at the whining need in his voice as he asked, "What's wrong?"

Harry smiled at him in return, "Nothing. Just wondering how you enjoyed yourself."

Dean grinned, "I was a little faster than usual, but I'll put the blame on you for that."

Harry couldn't help but grin back as he said, "That was only round one, Dean. We've got the whole night."

Dean decided he could get used to experimenting with Harry.

(A/N: This is the end of the extreme SLASH portion of the chapter.)

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When Dean woke, the sun had already risen. He was sitting with his back half against the door, and half against the leather seating. His legs were cramped as they were surrounding either side of Harry, who was curled against his chest. The pair was naked except for Dean's jacket that was draped around their fronts.

Dean felt Big Dean stir at the memory of what had transpired just hours before. He realized that the sticky mess of before had disappeared, and that Harry must have cleaned them both before falling asleep.

It had been a long time since Dean had chosen to wake up with someone. Usually Dean was more of the "wham, bam, thank you, Mam" persuasion than the cuddly type. There was just something about Harry he found unforgettable. It was like losing your virginity; everyone feels emotional and clingy after.

Dean wondered briefly if he would bring himself to hang around with Harry more. He had a vision of picking him up after classes and bringing him back to some seedy motel room to bang his lights out between hunts.

Then he remembered… today was the first day of classes. Sammy.

He sat up, startled, unknowingly waking Harry.

"Dean?"

Dean began throwing on clothes hastily. "Sorry, Harry, I just have an appointment in Santa Clara this morning."

"Oh, right."

Dean stopped himself from cringing at the disappointed tone in Harry's voice. He was being an ass, and he knew it. He stopped dressing long enough to give Harry a proper kiss and a smile.

Harry looked considerably happier after that.

"So where can I drop you?" Dean asked. Harry had told him his friends had driven him the night before. He had planned to catch a ride home with Dean.

"My school's just in Santa Clara County, actually," Harry said brightly.

Dean felt a weight in his stomach at the news. Life was a bitch sometimes.

"Oh?" he asked, feigning indifference, "which one?"

"Stanford U" Harry responded, tugging on more clothes.

Dean got out of the car and then re-entered into the driver's seat. Harry frowned, but then finished getting dressed and stepped into the front passenger seat.

"Is that too far from you?" Harry asked.

"Close enough," Dean responded. He felt himself shutting down, his daydream of experimenting further with Harry being shot to hell. Harry went to school with Sam. If they ran across each other…

But then again, it was a big campus. The chances they'd even start a conversation together were seriously slim… maybe there was some hope after all. Dean's spirits brightened considerably, and the pair chatted as Harry guided him back to his dormitory.

When they got closer, and Stanford University loomed in front of them, Dean felt he should acknowledge his appreciation for Harry and their night together.

"I just wanted to say…" Dean started. "I just wanted to say thank you. For last night, I mean."

Harry looked at Dean fondly, "Anytime."

Dean found himself smiling back. He reached a finger out to stroke along Harry's chin. Harry's smile turned positively radiant.

As soon as Harry recognized the campus of Stanford University, he selected a building with students milling about at random

"Oh," said Harry suddenly, pointing out the window, "this is me."

Dean glanced around at the building structures around him. He mentally calculated the difference between Harry's dorm and Sam's and was pleased that they were at opposite ends of campus. Dean pulled into an open spot outside the building.

Harry was looking at him expectantly.

"Well, I guess, I better go."

Dean's emotions began their usual toss and tumble dance of turmoil. He had enjoyed his time with Harry, more than he had expected to. It had been nice to have a friend that he could talk to, someone who looked at him admiringly. Plus, the next time he came to check up on Sam he'd have a place to stay… maybe.

But then again, Harry might share classes with Sam. They might date the same girl… okay, maybe that wouldn't happen. But there were tons of other events that could take place that would lead them to meeting. If they became friends, then one little name drop would be all it took before their world went crashing down.

He realized he was taking too much time to think things through as Harry was already climbing out of the car. Dean tried to convince himself he hadn't see the flash of pain and disappointment that clouded Harry's face.

"Ah, shit," Dean said angrily, before climbing out of the car and following Harry down the sidewalk.

Harry turned and stopped when he realized Dean had followed him.

"Did I forget something?" he asked, avoiding eye contact with Dean.

Dean eyed the early morning crowd around him and decided he couldn't risk that Sam wasn't among them. He pulled Harry into the alley next to the building and leaned him against a wall.

Harry began eying him nervously. Dean kissed him once, and very briefly.

"I just wanted to say good-bye properly."

Dean pulled back but kept an arm around Harry's waist, the kid was just so damn warm.

"I thought, I thought you were regretting last night or something."

Dean cursed himself for making Harry look so insecure. Dean was a dog, but he never tried to make anyone feel used afterwards. Granted, he never stayed around long enough to see how they felt about it.

Harry pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Dean.

Dean saw the 10 digit number scribbled across it. He palmed it into his pocket.

"I know you only want one night long relationships, Dean," Harry said, much to Dean's displeasure, "but this is only if your in the area. I'm not opposed to dating, but I don't think that's your style."

"You're right, it's not," Dean said, passing the paper back to Harry. Harry merely folded Dean's open hand into a fist and pushed the offending limb back at him.

"Keep it," Harry said. "Just in case."

Then Harry was past Dean, down the street, and into his building.

Dean's first instinct was to toss the number immediately, but as he extended his hand to drop it he found he couldn't do it. Instead he put the number in his breast pocket, determined to put it out of his mind and refocus on being there for Sam's first day.

As Dean climbed into the Impala, he sent out a silent plea that Harry and Sam never cross paths.

As Harry apparated to his interview appointment, he decided that maybe Stanford University wouldn't be such a bad place to go to school after all.

Author's Note: The sex scene is probably the most intense one in the entire story, but it needed to be done. It was also the first one I've ever written so let me know what you thought. This chapter was massive! At 7,000 words it was longer than the previous two combined. Crazy!!! I felt bad that Sam and Dean weren't present in the prologue or chapter 1, so I decided to let my Dean narrative go a little crazy lol.

I hope this chapter answered a lot of questions from reviewers. Namely, that Sirius won't be around for a bit, and that Harry and Dean are interested in one another.

The next few chapters will focus on the Stanford years, specifically Sam and Harry becoming friends. They will also focus on Dean and Harry's "relationship" that develops.

Don't forget to REVIEW!!!