"For His Sake" House/HP crossover
Title: For His Sake
Fandom: House/Harry Potter crossover
Pairing: House/Wilson and House/Snape (no threesome, as per requester's request), also Snape/Lupin in later chapters
Rating: G
Warning: Incomplete WIP, and y'know, crossover.
A/N: Part 2/?, first part can be found here.. Originally requested by scarlett_moon.
Sunday morning, it's not tapping that wakes him, but voices. Momentarily confused, he wonders who Julie has in the kitchen. After rubbing his eyes, he opens them, and remember that he's not home, he's staying with House.
House's growl is unmistakable now, fluctuating between rolling and roaring. The other voice is a darkly melodious baritone, a cool, still stream compared to House's whitewater rapids.
Wilson can hardly make out a word, although they aren't even attempting quiet. They are sniping at each other, that's clear, only because Wilson is incredibly familiar with House's sniping tone. He rolls over, facing the cushions, wondering if he could even dare to hope for another hour's sleep. Somehow he doubts it.
He's not ready for dealing with House, or anyone else, although he is undeniably curious. He wonders absently if this is the friend House referred to during the Owl Incident, if only because it seems incredibly coincidental, and also highly unlikely, for House to have two friends that Wilson doesn't know anything about.
For now, though, he'd be happy just to get a chance to get a shower and eat some breakfast. Snuggling under the covers, he stills, listening as carefully as he can, hoping for something interesting. The visitor has a strong accent, but context is everything, and House's muttered grumbles are easy for him to decipher.
"Just because you want it, doesn't make it possible!"
"I did not ask you if it were possible. I already know that is it impossible."
"Then what the hell do you want from me?"
"I asked you to attempt to wrap your simple little mind around the problem, and offer any possible alternatives."
On that note, Wilson turns over, and tries to angle himself to a better eavesdropping position. The motion alerts House to his being awake, however, and the bellowed "Wilson, get in here!" is impossible to pretend to ignore.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he mutters, pulling on his jeans. He padded on bare feet into the kitchen, one hand rubbing absently at the back of his head.
Sitting at the table is the most attractive ugly man Wilson had ever laid eyes on. His nose, his teeth, his hair, there is nothing even remotely good-looking in the entire package...but then, there's something undeniably impressive about the man, even seated. He is wearing a robe of some type, midnight black, which, strangely enough, suits him. Old-fashioned and haughty, he is an odd foil to House in his Zep T-shirt and blue jeans.
Their stubbornly grumpy expressions are, however, a perfect match. It is all Wilson can do not to laugh. "You rang?" he asks, stepping into the kitchen, and leaning against the door frame. House gestures impatiently for him to take a seat.
Wilson, seeing that House has no intention of introducing him to his friend, does so. "Severus Snape," is the highly unlikely name given in return. He does not offer his hand, and Wilson, having years of practice with House, doesn't offer his. "Jim Wilson. Wilson's fine, though."
He doesn't sit, going instead to the refrigerator and pulling out eggs, sausage, and other breakfast necessaries. "Have you eaten?" he asks the two men, who eye him with twin looks of disbelief.
House shakes his head in the negative, turning to his guest and explaining, "Jimmy's going for Wife of the Year."
"Shut up. Do you want them scrambled or fried?"
"We'll take them fried. Hurry up, I called you in here for a reason."
"Talk, I'm listening. What do you need?"
House gives Snape the nod, but he seems reluctant to continue in front of Wilson. House sighs, rolling his eyes. "Lycanthropy. You've heard of it?"
Wilson reaches for the butter, dolloping a generous amount into the pan. "Patient believes he or she has turned or is turning into an animal. Usually canines, but there are cases of people who thought they were cats, birds, or even bees. Usually linked to schizophrenia or other delusional states. Oh, and there was this one study I read that said it had to do with the area of the brain dealing with body image. Why?"
Snape gives House a bemused look, shaking his head. "This is useless. He doesn't have the information he needs to even form an opinion."
Wilson frowns, but continues his cooking in silence. Who the hell is this guy, anyway?
"Okay, I'll tell him, but it's your fault."
Snape scoffs, "I don't see why you have to tell him anything. If you do so, you'll take the blame, not me."
Wilson turns around, noticeably agitated. "House..." he begins with no-little-agitation. He'll take shit from House, but he refuses to take it from anyone else.
"Down, boy. He's right. You're working from the supposition that lycanthropy is a problem with the brain. Not always the case."
"It isn't?" Wilson says, scraping the eggs over onto three waiting plates. He starts the sausage, turning to face House in disbelief. "You're telling me that werewolves are real. It's not that early in the morning, House."
"Yes, Jimmy, there really are werewolves. And vampires, and centaurs, and any other of a number of magical beasties that I don't care about and neither should you. Werewolves are the matter at hand."
Wilson turns the sausages without looking up. "Well, that answers my question."
"What question."
"Of whether you're insane or not."
"Oh, for heaven's sake. I don't have time for this. For the sake of this discussion, werewolves are real, magic is real, people who are so inclined can manipulate magic to their will, and these people are called wizards..."
"Wizards and werewolves. And no one knows about them. Whole wide world, completely oblivious," Wilson isn't really paying attention at this point.
Sometimes it's easier just to go along with whatever insanity House has come up with, and besides, making toast is much more interesting. If he had a dollar for every time House said or did something irrational...he'd probably be paying it all out in alimony. 'My life sucks' he thinks, pulling strawberry preserves and marmalade from the refrigerator.
Snape snorts, impressive with that nose, and tells House, "You're wasting time. I came to you for your opinion, and if you're unable to help me, I will go somewhere else."
"There isn't anywhere else!" House snaps. "I need his opinion, Snape. Now shut up and let me do this."
Wilson whirls around, shocked at the admission, then quickly turns back, but not before seeing the Battle of the Death Glares. 'House has the strangest friends.' He wisely includes himself in that number. Assembling the food on their plates, he grabs forks and napkins, letting the silent battle rage on behind him.
After pouring three glasses of milk, he walks them over to the table, then returns for the silverware and napkins. By the time he sets their plates in front of them, the two stubborn asses have obviously worked out their differences, at least enough to leave off staring. He watches with pride as both men tuck into their food with gusto.
House's voice is muffled as he says through a mouthful of food, "What do I have to do, show you?"
Wilson considers this, taking measured bites of his own food. He's seen House do some incredible things, some would say impossible things. He knows the man is brilliant, knows that he's also pretty close to insane. But one thing he's not is a liar. He'll lie, if it serves his purpose, but this doesn't serve a purpose that Wilson can see. And he can always tell when House is fucking with him.
Snape eats slowly, meticulously, eyeing the two of them in a way that Wilson can only describe as 'calculating'. However, he doesn't seem to be anything more than just extremely eccentric, the same of which can be said for House.
Wilson chews methodically, swallows, then says quietly, "I'm not saying I believe you, but I do trust you. If you say that magic is real then, for the sake of argument at least, magic is real." He takes a sip of milk, and wipes his mouth carefully. "So what did you need my opinion on?"
House's smile is a rare and wondrous thing.
To be continued...
Fandom: House/Harry Potter crossover
Pairing: House/Wilson and House/Snape (no threesome, as per requester's request), also Snape/Lupin in later chapters
Rating: G
Warning: Incomplete WIP, and y'know, crossover.
A/N: Part 2/?, first part can be found here.. Originally requested by scarlett_moon.
Sunday morning, it's not tapping that wakes him, but voices. Momentarily confused, he wonders who Julie has in the kitchen. After rubbing his eyes, he opens them, and remember that he's not home, he's staying with House.
House's growl is unmistakable now, fluctuating between rolling and roaring. The other voice is a darkly melodious baritone, a cool, still stream compared to House's whitewater rapids.
Wilson can hardly make out a word, although they aren't even attempting quiet. They are sniping at each other, that's clear, only because Wilson is incredibly familiar with House's sniping tone. He rolls over, facing the cushions, wondering if he could even dare to hope for another hour's sleep. Somehow he doubts it.
He's not ready for dealing with House, or anyone else, although he is undeniably curious. He wonders absently if this is the friend House referred to during the Owl Incident, if only because it seems incredibly coincidental, and also highly unlikely, for House to have two friends that Wilson doesn't know anything about.
For now, though, he'd be happy just to get a chance to get a shower and eat some breakfast. Snuggling under the covers, he stills, listening as carefully as he can, hoping for something interesting. The visitor has a strong accent, but context is everything, and House's muttered grumbles are easy for him to decipher.
"Just because you want it, doesn't make it possible!"
"I did not ask you if it were possible. I already know that is it impossible."
"Then what the hell do you want from me?"
"I asked you to attempt to wrap your simple little mind around the problem, and offer any possible alternatives."
On that note, Wilson turns over, and tries to angle himself to a better eavesdropping position. The motion alerts House to his being awake, however, and the bellowed "Wilson, get in here!" is impossible to pretend to ignore.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he mutters, pulling on his jeans. He padded on bare feet into the kitchen, one hand rubbing absently at the back of his head.
Sitting at the table is the most attractive ugly man Wilson had ever laid eyes on. His nose, his teeth, his hair, there is nothing even remotely good-looking in the entire package...but then, there's something undeniably impressive about the man, even seated. He is wearing a robe of some type, midnight black, which, strangely enough, suits him. Old-fashioned and haughty, he is an odd foil to House in his Zep T-shirt and blue jeans.
Their stubbornly grumpy expressions are, however, a perfect match. It is all Wilson can do not to laugh. "You rang?" he asks, stepping into the kitchen, and leaning against the door frame. House gestures impatiently for him to take a seat.
Wilson, seeing that House has no intention of introducing him to his friend, does so. "Severus Snape," is the highly unlikely name given in return. He does not offer his hand, and Wilson, having years of practice with House, doesn't offer his. "Jim Wilson. Wilson's fine, though."
He doesn't sit, going instead to the refrigerator and pulling out eggs, sausage, and other breakfast necessaries. "Have you eaten?" he asks the two men, who eye him with twin looks of disbelief.
House shakes his head in the negative, turning to his guest and explaining, "Jimmy's going for Wife of the Year."
"Shut up. Do you want them scrambled or fried?"
"We'll take them fried. Hurry up, I called you in here for a reason."
"Talk, I'm listening. What do you need?"
House gives Snape the nod, but he seems reluctant to continue in front of Wilson. House sighs, rolling his eyes. "Lycanthropy. You've heard of it?"
Wilson reaches for the butter, dolloping a generous amount into the pan. "Patient believes he or she has turned or is turning into an animal. Usually canines, but there are cases of people who thought they were cats, birds, or even bees. Usually linked to schizophrenia or other delusional states. Oh, and there was this one study I read that said it had to do with the area of the brain dealing with body image. Why?"
Snape gives House a bemused look, shaking his head. "This is useless. He doesn't have the information he needs to even form an opinion."
Wilson frowns, but continues his cooking in silence. Who the hell is this guy, anyway?
"Okay, I'll tell him, but it's your fault."
Snape scoffs, "I don't see why you have to tell him anything. If you do so, you'll take the blame, not me."
Wilson turns around, noticeably agitated. "House..." he begins with no-little-agitation. He'll take shit from House, but he refuses to take it from anyone else.
"Down, boy. He's right. You're working from the supposition that lycanthropy is a problem with the brain. Not always the case."
"It isn't?" Wilson says, scraping the eggs over onto three waiting plates. He starts the sausage, turning to face House in disbelief. "You're telling me that werewolves are real. It's not that early in the morning, House."
"Yes, Jimmy, there really are werewolves. And vampires, and centaurs, and any other of a number of magical beasties that I don't care about and neither should you. Werewolves are the matter at hand."
Wilson turns the sausages without looking up. "Well, that answers my question."
"What question."
"Of whether you're insane or not."
"Oh, for heaven's sake. I don't have time for this. For the sake of this discussion, werewolves are real, magic is real, people who are so inclined can manipulate magic to their will, and these people are called wizards..."
"Wizards and werewolves. And no one knows about them. Whole wide world, completely oblivious," Wilson isn't really paying attention at this point.
Sometimes it's easier just to go along with whatever insanity House has come up with, and besides, making toast is much more interesting. If he had a dollar for every time House said or did something irrational...he'd probably be paying it all out in alimony. 'My life sucks' he thinks, pulling strawberry preserves and marmalade from the refrigerator.
Snape snorts, impressive with that nose, and tells House, "You're wasting time. I came to you for your opinion, and if you're unable to help me, I will go somewhere else."
"There isn't anywhere else!" House snaps. "I need his opinion, Snape. Now shut up and let me do this."
Wilson whirls around, shocked at the admission, then quickly turns back, but not before seeing the Battle of the Death Glares. 'House has the strangest friends.' He wisely includes himself in that number. Assembling the food on their plates, he grabs forks and napkins, letting the silent battle rage on behind him.
After pouring three glasses of milk, he walks them over to the table, then returns for the silverware and napkins. By the time he sets their plates in front of them, the two stubborn asses have obviously worked out their differences, at least enough to leave off staring. He watches with pride as both men tuck into their food with gusto.
House's voice is muffled as he says through a mouthful of food, "What do I have to do, show you?"
Wilson considers this, taking measured bites of his own food. He's seen House do some incredible things, some would say impossible things. He knows the man is brilliant, knows that he's also pretty close to insane. But one thing he's not is a liar. He'll lie, if it serves his purpose, but this doesn't serve a purpose that Wilson can see. And he can always tell when House is fucking with him.
Snape eats slowly, meticulously, eyeing the two of them in a way that Wilson can only describe as 'calculating'. However, he doesn't seem to be anything more than just extremely eccentric, the same of which can be said for House.
Wilson chews methodically, swallows, then says quietly, "I'm not saying I believe you, but I do trust you. If you say that magic is real then, for the sake of argument at least, magic is real." He takes a sip of milk, and wipes his mouth carefully. "So what did you need my opinion on?"
House's smile is a rare and wondrous thing.
To be continued...