Roses Under Cypresses

Chapter 3

The moment Harry was clear of Baltimore's state hospital, he apparated to Wolf trap, his shoulders relaxed as he stared at the familiar sight in front of him. After gazing at the farm house for a few minutes, somewhere he'd been sure never to see again…he eventually reached out and opened the door. The layout was very familiar, and Harry smiled a little at the reminder. The upstairs never got used, even when he'd been there, he'd slept on the sofa. One look around he was dismayed at the sight. The place was a mess, the forensic unit hadn't hired anyone to repair the damages they'd done while tearing it apart looking for evidence of Will's supposed crimes.

Green eyes gleaming coldly, pursing his lips, then they peeled back into a soundless snarl. This was Will's home, his safe harbour as he liked to call it. His fortress of solitude from humanity, where he could just be himself, surrounded by his pets. Flicking his wand, he cast a dozen spells, all of them zooming off to get to work, as the house righted itself, cleaning floors, tables, chairs, the kitchen, bed, even the diesel engine at the side of the chair, drying everything, repairing damaged items, and getting rid of dust and dirt leaving behind a pleasant scent of a thorough cleaning. Spoiled food and drink floated into the bin, which was prompted tied up and zooming out the back door into the bin outside.

While the spells did their job, Harry removed his bag, which had been kept in a locker while he visited Will. No attempts had been made to get into it, otherwise they would have been in for one hell of a shock. He removed his laptop, and turned it on, moving to the cream seat, directly across from the chimney, which had been badly repaired, but was currently being corrected with Harry's magic. Crossing his legs, he got comfortable, and begun the process of looking into Hannibal Lecter. Ignoring the broom sweeping the floor at his feet as he did so.

He was Lithuanian-American, he is the eighth in his blood-line to bear his ancestor's forename. Born to Count Hannibal Lecter and Simonetta Sforza-Lecter. Harry blinked, disbelief enveloping him, this guy was really living up the family name…Sforza which meant…she descended from both the Visconti and Sforza families, who separately ruled the magical and mundane Milan for a total of 250 years. It was a well-remembered wizarding/name family, way back when, as far as he knew, they'd had two daughters, twins, the first born had been a squib, second born inherited the family fortune. Simonetta had been that squib daughter, apparently she'd married a Count, probably ended up better off than her whole family combined. Simonetta had two children of her own, a son, Hannibal Lecter, and a daughter years later, Misha Lecter. Inhaling sharply, not needing to read further to know that Misha Lecter's fate had been a horrific one. Carlotta Sforza married and rare for that time kept her name, but had no heirs for either family. Which meant Hannibal Lecter was the last of quite a prestigious bloodline.

If his last name used to be Lekter, then he may well actually be descendant from a vampire, Giuliano Bevisangue – Bevisangue ironically means Blood-Drinker - a feared and ruthless wizard from the 12th-century Tuscany, and from the Machiavelli bloodline! Oh, Harry couldn't help but be fascinated, he couldn't wait to meet him. If only he hadn't messed with one of the few people Harry cared about still left alive.

He then inputted Chesapeake Ripper into the computer, and files began to appear in tabs, sorted by last name and the date the case file was opened. Considering the copycat murders were Hannibal's as well, it stood to reason that it wasn't Hannibal's first time using that means to kill using another's MO. It was…ingenuous really, he'd know just how many Hannibal had killed when he met him, and he honestly didn't think he'd be surprised by the numbers. Especially upon noticing that Hannibal was questioned and suspected to have been 'II Mostro' in Florence. His home was searched, but no evidence and no ties to the war criminals, he was released and returned to the States afterwards, Baltimore to finish his residency if he had his calculations correct. Normal law enforcement wouldn't get that information, not even the FBI.

Once familiar with the address, Baltimore Maryland, he Apparated to the place of residence. His sharp gaze looking around where he'd found himself, impressed but not at all surprised by what he was seeing. The walls were made from stacked wood molding's that had voluptuous curves or simple geometry. The wood was stained indigo blue, Harry could see it surrounding Hannibal and his audience in the color of the night sky. There was a huge landscape as a backdrop. Its gothic tone, adding to the room, it was perfect, almost like an early Jackson Pollock painting. Taking a whiff, his gaze narrowed in on box shelves that house live herbs in horns, the pictures, the chandelier, it was almost as if everything had been strategically placed, which, it probably had.

Smirking wryly, he took a seat, pondering on how to best deal with this guy. He was dangerous, there was no denying that, intelligent and methodical he'd been killing since he was a teenager at least and got away with it each and every time. Not that he had to worry, he couldn't die, all Hannibal would do was piss him off even more.

Still, to have gained Will's friendship he had to be interesting. Although, he wondered, was it Hannibal's darkness that Will found interesting, or his intelligence and the persona he showed the world?

The sound of a car brought Harry out of his musing, eagerness filled him. It had been a long time since he had any fun. He listened intently, for any further sounds, but he didn't hear anything until the front door was being opened. He had noticed the lack of alarms, too secure in his own ability to protect himself.

Crossing his legs, Harry relaxed his posture, and just waited, eyes gleaming brightly with delight. And what a delight it was, when Hannibal entered his dining room, and froze mere seconds before their eyes met his nostrils flared. Interesting, did that mean his scent of smell was greater than the norm? Something perhaps handed down by his vampire ancestor.

That was not all, death was fond of Hannibal Lecter. He liked him.

'Merlin be damned!' he thought, of course, Death would like him. Amusement sprang up from his bond with death. Harry pushed down his own amusement before sending annoyance back at him. The bond had been there from the moment Harry realized what he was, accepted what he was and with it, his mortal life had been over.

Death could take on a corporal form, but it was a ghastly sight to behold. The whole skeletal figure, black robes and the scythe…that Mundane was so fond off…well, they'd gotten one thing right. He could glamour himself, but chose not to do so, and if he did…he liked to fuck with you, he had a dark sense of humour which was an acquired taste. One Harry most certainly had and when Death had taken on the form of Lily Potter…Harry hadn't spoken to him for months, Death at least had the sense not to do it again.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my home?" Hannibal demanded, never once raising his voice as he stared at the intruder. "I must ask that you leave before I call the police." There was something about his eyes, they vividly reminded him of someone, and it didn't take long for him to figure it out, Will, they may not be the same colour but in all other ways they were identical. That was intriguing.

Harry chuckled dryly, "Oh? Go ahead I'll wait, it would be an amusing conversation to be sure, will you be telling them that you're the Chesapeake Ripper as well?"

A thin lair of Hannibal's 'person suit' vanished, "I have no idea what you're talking about." He commented, eyeing up the predator he had found in his dining room. It automatically clicked that this was whom Will had been in contact with, the reason for his cancelled appointment. Was the conversation being recorded? Was he being goaded into revealing information? He would be in for a long wait, he was not someone so easily manipulated. "You must understand that dear Will is confused, his mind is under immense strain…"

"Don't," Harry commented, "I know very well what is wrong with Will, I know everything. Count Hannibal Lecter…you've certainly left a whole lot of destruction in your wake from Lithuanian, Florence, Paris and of course…here, admittedly quite a few of them deserved your ire. Will Graham wasn't one of them." not getting angry or defensive like Hannibal probably wanted.

Another thin lair of Hannibal's 'person suit' began to unveil, "Who are you?" Hannibal asked yet again, remaining calm, even as a burst of adrenaline coursed through him. Wondering how on earth this man knew so much about him, not even dear Will could have deduced all this. "And I prefer Doctor Lecter," he added absently, as if he wasn't at all threatened. Plans were already mulling through his mind.

Harry watched in rapt fascination, he couldn't help but be intrigued. The desire to rip up that façade and see the true monster lurking beneath was strong and a heady response to knowing it existed. "I can see why Will liked you," Harry commented, and it threw Hannibal, he could sense it rather than see it, since Hannibal didn't react much, except a lift of his lip. He was pleased, Harry realised, by Harry's pronouncement.

"Harry James Potter, Lord of the Potter and Black estates," Harry informed him wryly, "Turned down the offer of being a Duke." Watching surprise filter through those reddish brown eyes. "More trouble than it's worth," he admitted.

Disbelief visible in Hannibal's features, staring at the creature in front of him in utter bafflement. "You did not feel you deserved it?" Hannibal asked, stepping further into the room, making sure his moves were none threatening.

Harry's eyes just gleamed in amusement, "Far from it, I definitely deserved it, but I didn't want it." finding himself amused by the attempts at figuring him out and manipulate him. Oh, Hannibal would find Harry wasn't easily manipulated, not anymore anyway.

Hannibal paused, staring at the young man, there was just something about him that screamed familiarity. He was almost positive they hadn't met before, he would have remembered such vibrant eyes. "Why are you here?" utterly shoving his fascination aside, he was a danger, he knew too much about him, he had to find out what he knew, what he'd informed his superiors and whether he had to run or not.

Harry's eyes blazed with fire, "To kill you, nobody touches Will and lives to tell the tale."

"I'm hardly the first," Hannibal commented coolly, "What is he to you?" surprised by the surge of jealousy he felt over this man having a claim to Will.

When Harry moved to open his mouth, Hannibal lurched towards Harry, swift and agile as a cat light on his feet. Unfortunately, for Hannibal, Harry had anticipated the move and every move thereafter. "Oh, you're just the first of many on my list Doctor," sarcasm oozing as he thrust out and kicked Hannibal away from him, he just kept coming back for more, and without the usual anger that marred people.

Each manoeuvre was countered with ease, and Harry never allowed Hannibal striking distance of his neck, not even in curiosity to see what would happen. Dying hurt like hell, and he'd rather not have it happening again. Even if it would be worth seeing the look on Hannibal Lecter's face when he didn't 'die' so to speak.

"Getting tired yet?" Harry asked wryly, as he blocked another attempt to get within striking distance of his head. Kicking out his foot, which was gripped in a iron grip, Harry twisted around, kicking Hannibal in the face before flipping himself up, helped through the subtle aid of magic. He wasn't the damn karate kid after all. "Shall we keep it up until your Judgement day?" his breathing becoming just a tad laboured. He probably shouldn't be playing with his food, but he was just giving Hannibal a taste of his own medicine. He had to admit he understood why he did it.

"Who are you to Will? He's never mentioned you before," Hannibal slid his arms out of his jacket, and toed off his shoes, pausing to wipe the blood off his face with his red handkerchief. More confident now that he knew that there was no recording devices upon Harry's person. During the fight he'd had a good feel, as small as they were, they weren't that easily concealed especially in an up close fight.

Harry couldn't help but snort at the actions, damn it, he wasn't meant to find him amusing or charismatic. "No, I doubt he would have." Harry said dryly, green eyes filled with merriment and devilment. "Disappointed that you don't know everything about him?" disbelief tearing through him, was he actually folding up his jacket and handkerchief in the middle of a fight?

"Yes," Hannibal admitted, he had thought he and Will had become incredibly close, so close in fact, that he knew more about Will than most. Placing his jacket on the floor on top of his shoes before he swift like a snake rekindled his attack again. "It's a pity, Will really shouldn't have brought you into this," Will would just have to find it in him to forgive him for this, but it was Will's own actions that was driving him to this.

"It's amusing you think you've won, the reality is so far from it that it's quite pathetic really," Harry rasped out, kicking out at Hannibal who had managed to get his hands around his neck, only to get burnt and Harry rolled himself off the other side of the table.

Hannibal had frozen on the spot, staring at his hands, which were still quite red, the only manifestation of the heat that had coursed through his body. He was not one for denial, he knew it couldn't be anything but…other. This man was like Misha. She'd done the very same thing to one of their captors all those years ago. It had caused her to become feverish, lethargic and in the end the men had taken her from him and killed her.

His pain was very real and very severe, it allowed Harry a glimpse into his mind.

"Interesting, she gained the family magic then," Harry commented, causing Hannibal to flinch out of his thoughts, before renewing his attack with renewed determination. Having not heard Harry's statement properly.

They were both beginning to tire, and Harry feeling very vindictive and angry, unleashed his MOD powers upon the man.

"Hanni….Hannibal!"

Hannibal froze once again at the sound of his sister's pleading voice. It sounded so very real, and too close to the very last words he'd ever heard her say.

Oooo, rather vicious of Harry isn't it? To use his dead sister against him...BUT is she real? alive and whole or has Harry recalled her from behind the veil to taunt Hannibal further? I do need an idea to slay Harry's desire to kill Hannibal though LMAO because you know...I do need him alive for the story to progress :P R&R please and tomorrow The Contract will be updated :)