SINNERS ARE MUCH MORE FUN

Disclaimer: I don't own either Harry Potter or Kuroshitsuji; nor do I own the song used at the beginning of the chapter. Drat. Okay, but this story is still mine. (Methinks I have a severe case of mine-itis.)

Shout Out: Almost had a heart attack when the darned Word program ate more than half of my finished chapter and was stubborn to spit it back. So it was a long process of searching for appropriate files, retrieving said files and then trying to piece'em back together…/annoyed sigh/. Thankfully, I managed to do it, but it put a severe delay in my other projects. So I apologize if they won't be out at their time, but rest assured, I will post them up when they will. As always, MHB was a dear and managed to check this chapter in a record time. So thank you, girl, I really appreciate it.

Warnings: AU-verse,the butlers may be out of character, and the first meeting between them and their would-be Master – ahem, prey. There are three general POV's - Harry's, Sebastian's and Claude's. As they switch around, it may be a mite confusing at first - tell me if I should tack on notice which POV is which. Happy reading.

I'd rather laugh with the sinners
Than cry with the saints
The sinners are much more fun

(Only The Good Die Young, by Billy Joel)

Azkaban was known as the dreariest, coldest, and most depressing building imaginable. And with good reason, too. It stood on a lone island, surrounded with ice cold water and guarded by Dementors. Azkaban prison was said to be the safest one in the world, and also the cruelest one. It had a reputation of being inescapable, but one Sirius Orion Black had disproved that particular myth spectacularly. Since then, they had stepped up the security measures and the only way a prisoner could get out of this pit of freezing hell was either by bribing someone with a hefty amount of gold or with his feet forward. That is to say, dead.

For one special prisoner, there would be no chance of parole. No extenuating circumstances, no counter-witnesses, no lessening of the sentence, nothing. His magic was bound and sealed, with no chance of it ever being unsealed again. The man - teen, really - was essentially a Muggle.

Since that disastrous trial, he had been thrown into the deepest, darkest and dingiest little hole imaginable, regardless of his injuries. The two guards helped themselves to him to relieve their sexual urges and at first, he had protested and fought back, but the longer the time went on, the weaker his protests were. After all, he didn't have enough energy to move, and much less to hope that anybody would come to rescue him.

The bastards all thought he was guilty. Harry would have scowled, if he had had the energy for it, but right now he was empty. He felt nothing - no happiness, no sadness, only indifference and a strange sense of vindictiveness over the world that had betrayed him in the worst sense imaginable.

Vernon Dursley was right - they were a bunch of freaks that weren't to be trusted by even the smallest margin.

And one Harry James Potter was done being the floor mat for everyone and everything.

He had had enough.

He would happily let Voldemort rain fire and brimstone on their foolish heads, and leave them to fend for themselves... only; there was one teeny tiny thing wrong with his plan.

Voldemort was on the top of his shit list.

Bugger.

This time, he growled a low, feral sound of dissatisfaction that would be more appropriate for a wild animal than a human, but he had ceased to think as a human long time ago.

He didn't know how long had he been here. Days, yes. Months too. Years? Decades? Don't ask him; he wouldn't have known. Time in here was a rather... obscure thing. There was time for Dementors and time without; there were time for eating and times when he didn't eat; there were also times when he had to take care of emptying his bladder and shitting in the farthest corner available.

There were times of despair, and times when he felt almost blinding anger.

And then, there were times of... nothing.

This was one such time, when he felt empty of everything and anything; without feelings, without hope, and without despair. He would have felt rather unnerved at the state he had found himself in at those times if he had even had anything to feel about, of course.

It had been a relief to be alone, far away from judging eyes and mocking words, but his memories were companions he would've rather done without. His memories were not of a good sort, even those which had been marginally happy before were now soured with the taste of betrayal.

He had been so masterfully played and used, playing his part as the Boy-Who-Lived, as a whore, as a freak, as a punching bag - so magnificently that the directors who had pressed him into this act deserved an Oscar.

If the fools ever got him out of this hellhole, they would be in for a rude surprise.

Closing his eyes, he gingerly leaned his back against the wall. His cell was marginally better than the cupboard - at least it wasn't as cramped and hallelujah, no spiders in here. The downside was that it was smelly with waste, even if Harry did try to take care of that particular problem, but with him still healing from his injuries he was unable to do anything better than crawl to a corner, do his thing and crawl away again, being mindful of his injuries. It also didn't help that he didn't have anything better than the prison clothes, which were the thin, drab garments and the thin blanket that he found in one of the corners that still stunk from its previous owner.

All in all, it had been a miserable existence, if it could even be labeled as such.

But at least his relatives were rotting in the deepest pits of Hell.

He shifted uncomfortably, barely repressing a wince as one of his bones poked against the torn muscle.

It was as if someone was watching him, but surely that was impossible...

However, the lesson about disregarding his instincts had been harsh and Harry swallowed dryly.

Whoever it was... it was obviously a predator. An intelligent one at that, but nobody was in the cell... were they?

The eyes watched their prey, scrutinizing it to the smallest details imaginable. It had been almost pathetically easily to find Azkaban, but true to the man's words, finding one Harry James Potter, alias Phobos, was a mite bit harder.

They were demons, after all, and as such better than usual mortals, the fools they were.

Especially when Faustus got a hold of the prey's blood.

'My, my...' Sebastian pondered quietly, holding back a chuckle. In the time they spent watching their prey, they found out that the boy was quite the stubborn one, and very used to pain. This was a disconcerting notion for Sebastian, because he had been used to Ciel's rather vehement... declination of anything painful, and if the now already deceased Phantomhive Earl had been in Phobos' shoes, the little lord wouldn't have survived even one day; nay, even one hour would have been too much for the last and most infamous Queen's Dog.

Yet this boy, who was looking around the cell with wary eyes, survived and lived to tell the tale. Well, not exactly as extravagantly, but Sebastian could see that the boy was, despite the dreadful situation he had found himself in, bound and determined to survive, if only to laugh in the faces of his betrayers after the fools found out what had they done.

The boy leaned against the wall gingerly, closing his eyes as he painfully tipped his head up. He was dirty, smelly and he reeked of old blood. Sebastian would have wrinkled his nose at the uncouth creature, but something made him hold in his involuntary reaction.

"Come out, whoever you are." The boy's voice startled Sebastian out of his rather critical observations.

"Oh? You know we're here?" He asked mildly, the corners of his lips tilting up a bit in an amused surprise.

"Hard not to." The boy's hoarse voice was cracking, and he had to swallow to wet his throat.

"How did you find us?" This was the first time Claude spoke out, and he looked at his prey intensely.

"Sixth sense?" The boy offered blandly. "But the question should've been how did you two manage to sneak inside this little death trap." He shuffled a little to sit more comfortably and immediately winced.

Sebastian's eyebrows arched up as he scented the fresh blood.

"You would like to know, wouldn't you, little masochist?" He purred out playfully, making the boy open one eye and glare at his presumed hiding place.

And Sebastian stilled.

Green. Pure, unaltered, poisonously green, the shade of the richest emeralds and yet -

Sebastian's breath hitched.

By the Hells, the boy had cat's eyes. That shade of green was unnatural and yet it sucked Sebastian in like a sure-fire death trap, like one of those Killing Curses.

All too soon, the boy's eyes squeezed shut again. "Why are you here?"

The question was short and to the point. Faustus shuffled closer, his eyes still locked on his prey. Sebastian realized with a start that he had completely forgotten for a moment they were not alone and he was supposed to be there only as an observer.

Which, he found out, didn't sit right with him.

"I am here to offer you a way out of this hellhole, little fly." Faustus' voice purred out gently, making Sebastian blink at the seductive quality of his tone. For a usually emotionless drone, Claude was now doing a total turnaround and all of this for that whelp?

He didn't even go as far for the fake Trancy noble. So why now? What had changed?

The cell was half dark and it was cold. Sebastian shivered, inwardly cursing Faustus' impatience with finding his little prey. Even if he was used to extreme temperatures, that didn't mean he had to endure them longer than acceptable. And Azkaban rated somewhere in the sub-zero category, warmth or lack thereof-wise.

The boy's head lolled in the direction of Faustus voice, and Sebastian had the irrational urge to take his attention back on his person.

"Really? What would be the price?" The boy snapped out, wrinkling his nose a little, as he shuffled on his little spot, huddling into the little warmth he had.

Sebastian chuckled. "You got a clever one here, Faustus," he mocked his fellow butler, only to be gifted with a scathing glare.

"Well?" The boy prompted them again.

Heedless of the dirt, Faustus knelt on the floor. "I will do anything you would want of me I would get you out of here; kill your enemies - anything." His soft purr was now directed solely on the frozen prisoner. "But in exchange, little fly. Your soul would be mine."

Green eyes snapped open as the boy looked into demons yellow ones. "How do you know I even have a soul?" He rasped out, before he coughed harshly, a small amount of blood painting cracked pale lips.

"Of course you do, little one," Michaelis interrupted, making Claude narrow his eye dangerously at the impertinent crow demon, as the aforementioned demon slowly sashayed toward his prey.

Damn it, Potter was his - Sebastian may have got that Phantomhive brat, but the green-eyed little fly was his!

"And what would you want to do with it?" The boy inquired his voice almost voiceless rasp now.

"Why, eat it, of course." Michaelis replied cheerfully.

A stunned silence reigned in the small, musty cell.

"I really didn't need to know that particular tidbit of your diet plan." Claude's little fly snarked back with a sardonic half smile, the half grimace on his face, making Michaelis chuckle perversely.

"Of course, that it when we fulfill our obligations to you," Michaelis ended magnanimously, making Claude growl with irritation.

"You mean when I fulfill my obligations," Claude's tone was deceptively mild, but the warning in it was unmistakable.

The little green-eyed fly was his and his alone.

Red eyes flashed with challenge.

"Oh? Maybe he would rather have me than an emotionless kumoshitsuji like you." Michaelis purred out, making Claude grit his teeth.

Slowly, Claude turned to his and stood up. "As opposed to what? An uncouth poser like you?" He snapped out, or as much as he could snap, his fingers twitching for some good old goldenware or at least to choke the life out of the crow bastard. Inwardly, he grimaced. Alois' soul was a bad influence on him.

Substandard food, indeed.

Red eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful with your tongue, Faustus - you could easily lose it and then how would you get your prey?" Michaelis mocked back with a measured tone, a small, catty smirk on his flawless face.

Golden eyes narrowed with outrage. 'That bastard - !'

"Enough!"The rasp wasn't particularly loud, but both of the demons flinched instinctively.

"If that's how you deal with your opponents, I dread to see what you would have done to your enemies. Talk them to death, maybe?" The boy's wispy voice was sharp and jagged, before a new bout of coughing wracked his skeletal body.

Claude cringed, and from the corner of his eye he saw Michaelis flinch a little. He hurriedly turned away from the crow idiot and knelt back to the boy, gently trying to unknot the clenched ball his little fly's body was curled into, only for the boy to flinch away from his hands.

"Don't - Don't touch me, please." The small plead made the blue butler stop in his tracks.

Michaelis kneeled at the boys left side slowly. "I am sorry." The red-eyed demon murmured gently. "It's just - you are interesting and I wouldn't have minded serving you."

The boy looked at him emotionlessly, green eyes boring into his red ones like sharp, ice cold blades, making the demon's breath catch at looking into those exquisite emerald diamonds.

"I have searched for you since that Halloween night." Claude's voice was quiet, making the boy shift his attention to him and inadvertently causing Michaelis to frown. "You may not remember anymore, but I was always with you - well, at least when your parents wouldn't see me," he amended, smiling sardonically at the memories.

Green eyes blinked. "You knew my parents?" The boy asked, and in his voice was such a painful hope Claude was almost sorry to break it apart. "Not as a friend, no. I was a spider at the time."

Dark eyebrows scrunched in thought. "Spider…Spider - wait you were Spidy!" The boy exclaimed, green eyes wide.

Both demons were taken aback. "Yes, how did you know that?" Clause asked, intrigued, while Sebastian smothered his laugh and committed Faustus' new nickname to memory.

"I remembered." The boy answer was short. "Whenever Dementors come near me, I always remember that night."

Claude blinked, astonished, while Michaelis made a faint grimace at the mention of the foul creatures. Demons liked their meals nicely dark, but the Dementors were like someone would eat the food and then regurgitate it back on the golden plate and then offer it to the honored guest.

Nasty.

Because they were so old, they could lock their minds sufficiently to not allow the foul creatures to manipulate their feelings and memories; however, that didn't mean they didn't feel sick in their presence. The Dementors were right foul creatures, but what heckled the two demons the most was that they were potential competitors for their prey, however loathsome they were.

"My condolences," Sebastian muttered out softly. "However, I think we strayed off the main topic of our enlightening conversation." He tapped his lips thoughtfully.

Harry saw the golden-eyed man bristle at the red-eyed man's little comment. Tiredly, he sighed and slumped against the wall - as much as he could slump, anyway. A headache began to pound in the back of his head, a strong one at that, and it was all courtesy of the two idiots in front of him.

"Go away." His short mumble caught the two men in the middle of their little glare contest. "I am tired, hungry, and cold and you've just topped the worst migraine I've ever had. Congratulations." He rubbed the nose bridge, but winced at half of the movement. His hand dropped uselessly in his lap as he hung his head.

"No." The answer was simultaneous, making Harry stiffen, green eyes squinting open to glare at the two blob-like shapes beside him. Great. Now his eyesight was playing with him. Just great.

"Do you really think I will tolerate your useless squabbling in any way, shape or form?" Now, Harry was never one to be suicidal, but this time he was fed up enough to throw caution to the nonexistent winds and let his mouth run away from him.

"How nice that you still think you still think you have any say in the matter," The red-eyed one purred out playfully, making Harry glare tiredly at him.

"Well, they did say that hope dies last," The other one muttered dryly, and Harry switched his glare to him, making the first bastard chuckle with amusement.

"You two are bastards." Harry mumbled out, scowling unhappily. However, inside, he was thinking.

Would it be really so bad?

He was damned either way; he could either stay here and wait for the fucking fools outside to find out the harsh truth and then run in droves to him to bawl for his forgiveness and then demand that he should save them, if he was even be alive and kicking at that point.

And on the other side, he could pick up one of those men, whatever they were, get the hell out Dodge as the proverbial saying goes and have a nice incognito, safe little life; and while he was at that, he could also make the wizards' lives bitter as hell.

Eye for an eye and all that rot.

The only thing was the payment demanded for that kind of service.

Really, his soul?

He sighed, instantly having to quell the cough that arose in his chest at the action.

But- What did he have to lose, anyway?

He didn't have friends.

He didn't have family.

He had… Nothing.

Briefly, his heart clenched at the memory of Hedwig, but he ruthlessly squashed it down in the innermost core of his mind.

It was in the past.

But was he really prepared to let innocent people suffer just because some morons made dumb mistakes on their behalf?

He shuddered violenly, clenching his teeth against the pain that wracked his body at the small movement.

And what did they do for him in return, huh? Aside from the scorn, ridicule, praise and worship?

He had saved all of their collective arses, and they were acting like sheeple - ungrateful, loud and selfish little sheeple, blindly following the other idiots to the proverbial slaughterhouse, at the rate things were going.

Well, it wasn't his problem anymore. They had made their bed, they would lie in it. As for his parents, screw them. Harry felt a pang of remorse at the crude thought, though really, he should have known better than what? He was an orphan; had been an orphan since when he was one year old, had had to take care of himself since he could walk in one way or another, no thanks to his darling, loving departed relatives, may they burn in Hell for all of what they had done to him.

His life was his and screw anyone who thought differently. And if he had to sell his soul to have peace from the magic-wielding idiots and their ilk, it would be a small price to pay.

He didn't believe in Hell and God - if there had been a God, and then he, Harry, wouldn't have been here now, alone, broken and bereft of hope. If there had been a God, Harry wouldn't have had to save everyone and their mother - if there had been a God, he would still have his family and he would be normal kid or as normal as he could have been in this crazy world.

But he wasn't and the only thing he had to bargain with was his soul.

The only question now was who to choose?

Spidy or this annoying red-eye?

"Okay." His voice was so quiet that even the two demons had to strain to hear it.

Two deceptively lithe bodies tensed in anticipation of verdict, two pairs of eyes watched the youth with an uncomfortably intense focus.

"You will abandon Heaven and walk the planes of Hell." One of the men's voices muttered in his left ear. "There's no backing out - not then, not ever. Are you sure you want to do it?"

Closing his eyes, Harry snorted. "I was never in Heaven to begin with."

Both of the demons smiled.

"Then who do you choose?"

The white feathers that reappeared in the cell - Harry couldn't even fathom why they were here to begin with - began to slowly rise upwards to the ceiling.

"I choose–" Harry gulped, swallowing a dried out spit and grimacing at the taste slightly

"Wait." One of the demons - the one with red eyes - spoke out.

"What now, Michaelis?" The golden eyed one spoke out, nearly growling at the interruption.

"I know you intend to choose him," The red-eyed demon continued unrepentantly, as if he hadn't heard him speak. "However, I would like to be in, too;" He addressed Harry politely.

The other man sucked in a hissed breath.

Harry frowned. From Spidy's behavior, he concluded it was a Big Thing, with all capitals included.

"This is preposterous!" Spidy hissed out, his body fairly vibrating with suppressed rage.

"But it can be done." The other's purring voice was cajoling and mild. "And from what we've heard, the kid will need all the help he can get."

The white feathers were still rising - up, up and up, like some kind of weird curtain on the wacky stage of some unknown theatre.

Harry didn't care about it.

"He was my prey first." Claude regained his momentum. "I will eat his soul." His own golden eyes bled into red as he glared at the former Phantomhive butler.

Sharp teeth flashed in the still darkness.

"Don't think I've forgotten your stunt with my Bocchan." Michaelis purred out wickedly, the soft sound of his voice holding a surprising amount of danger, making Harry cringe into himself.

Being fought over like a piece of meat wasn't his idea of getting out there, but wait technically speaking he was a piece of meat - er, soul. Whatever.

Claude stilled.

Crap.

He just knew that incident would come back to bite his ass someday

Dread filled his chest at the implications and what that would mean for the future.

"In short," Michaelis continued triumphantly, "Like it or not… You. Owe. Me."

A thunderous silence reigned after the smug proclamation.

Taking away claimed prey was a big no-no in the demon codex of honor -yes, the devious bastards did have some convoluted codex they followed, and one Faustus Claude was in big trouble because he had dared to break one of the cardinal rules out there for demon kind: Do. Not. Steal. Claimed. Prey. When claimed, it meant there had existed a contract between the human and the demon prior to switching masters - er, stealing the not-contracted humans and whatnot.

Despite the fact that demons lived in a rough society where there was the rule of thumb was the stronger, if not the strongest, always prevails, there was this seemingly absurd rule that made no sense whatsoever. However, it did diminish the clashes between opposite parties and kept the noses of those Shinigami pricks out of their business, so the demons let the rule be.

As a consequence of Faustus' false claim of his now dearly eaten - ahem, departed contractee, one Sebastian Michaelis could get from Faustus a favor of anything he wished, within reason, of course.

This was also why Claude allowed him to tag along in his search for his little fly, however unwilling and uncomfortabe it seemed to be. But for Michaelis to call out his favor for this…

Absurd. Preposterous. Idiotic. Just the thing that soured Claude's day even more than the time when he had his meal of Alois' soul. He still had digestion pains from that one, even if he had already absorbed it.

Rarely, if ever two demons shared one master and for a good reason, one soul could feed only one demon, and not two. Besides, they were just selfish bastards like that.

And Claude really, really didn't want to share his cute little fly.

The tension mounted.

"Okay."

Both of the demons heads whipped in Harry's direction, their eyes wide with shock.

"Harry!" Claude hissed out, shocked. Harry flinched but stood his ground. "I am tired, I know I am about to become a meal and I want to get this over with," he grumped out, green slits of color flashing. "I will be your Master, and you two will be my butlers. Now do you two accept or not?"

After a shocked pause, Sebastian burst out in laughter.

"He is a gem, Faustus. Truly." He complimented the still wide-eyed ex-Trancy butler. "So do we accept?"

Claude blinked. That kuroshitsuji was asking him? Well, he at least knew his etiquette, that was for certain, even if Claude had the slightest inkling that it made him feel like a woman.

"Of course." He nodded, smirking. "Now, Harry Potter…" He addressed his little fly while the white feathers still floated up, but began to changing into blood red. "What is your wish?"

Harry squeezed his eyes. He was feeling so tired and weak and the pain didn't help.

"I want you two to be my butlers - to get me out of the Wizarding World and help take revenge on those who wronged me however and whenever I want, and in meantime, to take care of me. My payment –"

His body was wracked with a fit of wet coughs, making both demons frown with concern, but their eyes dilated at the dark blood staining those lips and trickling down that slender chin.

"-Is my soul." Harry finished weakly, before his body gave out.

"The contract is accepted." Both of the butlers intoned solemnly, and the red feathers turned into black and dark blue, covering Harry's world in a storm while he screamed with pain as his right eye and the middle of his back erupted with white-hot pain.

Then, he knew nothing.

Both of the demon butlers quickly supported their new Master, the backs of their right hands still searing with the pain of the contract seal.

"Strange…The pain should be less, not more," Sebastian muttered while Claude frowned in agreement.

"We will talk about this later," Claude muttered out silently. "For now, we have more urgent matters to deal with."

Sebastian nodded, his face serious.

And without words, they knew what to do.

After all, they were not both demons and butlers for nothing.

Meanwhile, Harry was resting in a deep sleep, which was, for once, blessedly without dreams or nightmares.

Unknown to the big players in the Great Game of supposed Dark versus Light, this was the moment two new players were about to enter the Game and overturn everything they had ever known - and not for the better…

/To Be Continued/