[Fic] HP/SPN Crossover - Subtle Shining Sorceries - Chapter Six
Title: Subtle Shining Sorceries
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Don’t own the boys!
Author’s Notes: Okay, this is hopefully going to serve to tie up a few questions and fulfill a few kinks… *snerks* Also, I did promise slash and I need to get it started somehow… Next chapter will have some action, I swear! Please see Master Post for warnings, ratings and pairings and enjoy!
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Chapter Six - Wherein we don’t reach the main plot because Harry is a chatterbox…
Harry Potter found himself in the kitchen with all three men, something that had not occurred since they had encountered the Winchesters in the morgue. Dean was staring at a flat electronic contraption that Harry had not heard about. He hadn’t been in the muggle world in sometime and was shocked and amazed at the size of mobile phones let alone whatever new computer device was on the market. Harry however, did recognize the sound from Dudley’s late night game playing and guessed it was some sort of racing car game. Dean was very intent on the glowing screen, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out ever so slightly from full lips. For a brief and absurd moment Harry thought of James playing Wizard Chess with Rose. Harry smiled despite himself.
It wasn’t long after Sam was recovered that Dean insisted that they go back to the morgue and pick up his vehicle. Harry didn’t like the idea and he was more than certain that Malfoy loathed it but begrudgingly, because he was trying to get the muggle to help him after all, Harry agreed. But he wouldn’t let Sam and Dean go together and he certainly wouldn’t let Dean go alone. Harry went with him and Draco stayed behind to watch Sam.
The trip, as it turned out, had been rather fortuitous because the car was an absolute wealth of supplies. Harry didn’t really like the fact that they had all those weapons within easy reach, but he also made sure the car was outside of the wards to deter an ill-advised escape attempt on the brothers’ part.
With his car and a fresh set of clothes, the elder Winchester seemed to be content for the moment but the same could not be said about his younger brother.
Harry could sense Sam’s frustration from across the table as he flipped through page after page of a large leather-bound book. Harry was fairly certain it was also rescued from the car’s boot considering it was not one of his and Malfoy’s, though he probably wouldn’t recognize it regardless. He still wasn’t much for reading and continued to leave the research for Hermione or Malfoy.
“Something the matter Sam?” Harry asked finally.
Sam looked over at him and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I can’t find that damn symbol anywhere. I’m trying to see if there’s any way to track the patterns so we’ll have a fighting chance at saving the next victim. But I’ve come up with zilch so far and I’ve been looking through book after book ever since we got the car.”
Harry saw Malfoy hold out a hand. It took Sam a moment to realize what was being asked but he handed the book over to the blond wizard. Malfoy turned it and read the spine, putting it aside just as quickly.
Harry watched him stand up and go over to his magically expanded satchel. He rifled through it for a moment before pulling out three very large books which he dropped in front of Sam with a bang.
“That is because you are looking in the wrong place, Winchester. If I had known you were so interested I would have given you these days ago. Merlin knows I could use the help. Though Winchester, I warn you, if these books are defiled in anyway what-so-ever, I will not hesitate to hex you, understood?” Malfoy commented.
Harry sent the other wizard a wide grin. It was nice to see Malfoy being so civil, especially with muggles. If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d even say that Malfoy had developed something of a fondness for the Winchester boys. But of course Harry knew better.
Without looking away from the game Dean said, “You hex him, I shoot you.” There was no heat in it and Harry actually saw a smile twitch on the blond’s lips… Harry furrowed his brow… maybe he didn’t know better…
“I’d like to see you try, Winchester,” Malfoy taunted in good humour, turning to the shorter man. Dean flipped Malfoy off and Malfoy actually laughed out loud. Harry, so caught up in the stunning expression on the man’s face, forgot to be further surprised by the sudden camaraderie. Also though, seeing Draco Malfoy of all people so relaxed and free was almost unnerving. Harry also felt an uncomfortable stirring somewhere within that he was not prepared to examine just yet.
Sam looked curiously back and forth between Dean and Malfoy, “You two seem to be getting along.” There was only a faint trace of suspicion in the long haired man’s tone. Harry’s own returned quite suddenly.
Dean shrugged and Malfoy took a sip of tea. Harry watched Sam’s eyes narrow further and he too began to wonder when the two men had become so friendly with one another. Harry filed that away in order to investigate later. He and Malfoy needed to have a heart to heart it seemed.
They lapsed into companionable silence for a moment, before they were all startled by a loud electronic crashing sound and an equally loud “son of a bitch,” courtesy of Dean. Malfoy, the least familiar with both noises actually started a little in his seat and Harry caught the faint motion of his arm twitching under the table. Most likely sliding his wand free from its sheath.
Dean put the computer contraption aside and smacked his hands on his thighs, “Well, I’m bored. Let’s get outta here. We’ve been stuck in this hole for three days now, whatever marbles I have remaining are startin’ to rattle loose.”
Harry for one saw merit to the plan, with three children and an action packed job he was not at all accustomed to remaining still for so long and he still wanted to get Malfoy some clothing that didn’t look quite so conspicuous. Harry had packed his share of muggle clothing so it wouldn’t be a problem for him. Now he just had to convince Malfoy of the same. What joy Harry had in his life.
“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Harry said enthusiastically. “I still need to get the great ponce in clothing that doesn’t make him look like he walked out of a catalogue for Death Eaters.”
Malfoy huffed, “Potter, I resent that remark on all accounts.”
Harry shot him a blank look, “Well it wasn’t meant to be friendly.” Dean snickered at that one.
“Oh yes? Well how do you propose exactly that we do such a thing when my serviceable robes are the only attire I’ve packed?” Malfoy raised an elegant brow.
Harry frowned, “Er… right.”
“He can wear some of Sam’s stuff,” Dean said with a shrug.
Malfoy looked fully and truly scandalized, “Are you completely mad Winchester? I will not be caught dead in those rags.”
“Hey! What’s wrong with my clothes?” Sam demanded with a burgeoning pout.
“Yeah, what’s wrong with Sammy’s clothes?” Dean frowned quick to defend his brother’s (and by extension his own) wardrobe.
“They’ll fit you Malfoy, what’s the problem?” Harry asked genuinely confused.
Malfoy looked at all of them as if they were off their respective rockers. When none of them offered up any indication that they understood the blond’s displeasure Malfoy actually huffed, “They’re plaid Potter. Plaid.”
“Seriously, that’s the only excuse you can come up with?” Harry asked the blond flatly. “They are perfectly fine Malfoy. Once we get to the shops you can pick out whatever your little heart desires. But for now, you’re wearing them.”
Malfoy stood and stormed over to the doorway muttering about bloody Gryffindors and plebeian muggles, Harry was rather thankful he couldn’t hear the full extent of the rant because he was sure it was not at all pleasant.
Malfoy stopped quite suddenly and turned around, an expression of exasperation clear on his face, “Come Winchester. I’m not sorting through what passes for your apparel alone.”
Sam stood, “Oh ah… yeah.”
“Okay, I agree, he’s gonna look fuckin’ weird,” Dean commented after the two taller man had left. Harry couldn’t help but concur.
-*-
Harry was bored out of his mind and he knew Dean wasn’t fairing much better. They had been waiting for no less than forty-five minutes for Malfoy and Sam to re-emerge. Harry had never known another bloke that took so long to put on clothing. Occasionally both dark haired men would tense upon hearing a random muffled argument but nothing bloody seemed to emerge from it and both would relax soon after. Harry was just about to give up and start putting dinner on when he heard footsteps approach the door. He looked up and over in relief at Malfoy finally returning. When he saw him, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh out loud or flee in search of a cold shower. Malfoy, despite his obvious discomfort (which of course provided Harry’s amusement) wore muggle well (which of course arose the need for the cold shower).
“The lummox does have something other than plaid as it turns out,” Malfoy commented airily holding his arms out to the side. “Though these trousers are outright foul and itch like a bugger. What did you call them again?”
Sam answered exasperated, “Jeans.”
“Yes jeans they are utterly torn, don’t you muggles have any decency? Surely you could patch these at least?”
Sam gritted his teeth, “I bought them that way.”
“Merlin… Why? It is all you could afford?” Malfoy looked aghast.
“No… It’s. The. Style,” Sam’s frustration appeared to reach the breaking point and Harry decided to jump in and save the day.
“You look swell Malfoy, very nice in white. And that design is right smart. Shall we get on?” Harry jumped eagerly to his feet, hoping to forestall the diva show-down before it could reach astronomical proportions. Also trying to avoid looking at Malfoy in the semi-tight fitting denims that made his long legs look all the longer and his arse that much more appealing. Damnit Potter. Stop. He chastised himself.
“Wait, you need these first,” Sam held up four pendants hanging from functional thin black leather strips, two looked necklace length the others looked shorter as if they’d go around a wrist with a smaller charm attached.
Malfoy reached up curiously and took one of the pieces, “Is this a muggle custom? Do you all wear identification tags of some short?”
“No,” Sam looked uncomfortable. “They’re protective amulets and charms.”
Harry frowned, it was rare that wizards had to make use of protective amulets, they were usually reserved for children who had yet to master or were unable to use their skills.
“For what?” Harry asked.
Sam held up the necklace, “This one is simple. It will protect you from demon possession and also hide you from their radar. It’s pretty common among hunters…” He held up the short one with the charm, “This one is a little more complicated it will guard you from angels.”
“Angels? Why ever would we need protection from angels?” Malfoy asked. “Aren’t they good spirits for you muggles?”
“Sam,” Dean said in a warning tone and Harry couldn’t figure out why.
“Dean, they have a right to know,” Sam protested, looking imploringly at his brother.
“Sam. Drop it,” Dean said lower and more insistently. Seeing the dark glower in Dean’s eye made Harry embarrassingly nervous.
“Dean,” Sam said simply giving his brother a look that probably only had meaning to the two Winchesters.
Sam turned back to Malfoy and him, “We had this friend… Ca-”
“Damnit Sam! I told you not to-”
Sam looked exasperated cutting Dean’s tirade off, “He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named then!”
Harry tensed immediately, wondering if it were possible that these boys had known Voldemort… but surely not, they had to have been little more than children when the war was going on half-way across the world and he highly doubted such well-adjusted men would have been hunting and killing monsters as teenagers. Also, they knew little beyond the Wizarding World other than the foolish Occult obsessed muggles that claimed themselves to be witches (which Harry figured he and Malfoy would probably have to explain at some point), though Harry also realized that he knew very little about these men. He saw that Malfoy had also stiffened and began to edge away slowly from the tall muggle, his eyes shooting around for an escape route, his mind catapulting back to what was sure his own private hell.
“I’m waiting in the car. I ain’t listening to this shit,” Dean stormed out of the house. The slamming of the front door caused them all to wince.
“He’s dead,” Malfoy said quietly and probably more to himself than the two remaining men. “Potter, you killed him.”
“Yes Draco’s he’s been dead for nearly fifteen years,” Harry said soothingly, approaching Malfoy as one would an agitated hippogriff.
“What?” Sam looked confused as he turned his gaze back and forth between Harry and Malfoy. “Castiel isn’t dead, he’s just MIA… And scary mega-nuclear but that’s a story for another day.”
That stopped Harry and Malfoy both, “Castiel?”
“Yeah… the… angel we’re hiding from. He was our friend, closer to a brother really and he went all dark side, supernova. Dean and I need to stop him, but Dean is real torn up over it and is refusing to do anything about it. That’s why I’m not allowed to say his name… around Dean anyway. Who are you talking about?”
Harry and Malfoy shared a glance, no point drudging up the past. “…That’s a story for another day,” Harry eventually said.
“Oh all right then, well as soon as you put these on we can go,” Sam shrugged. Clearly, the years had taught him not to pry into business people didn’t want to share. Harry didn’t blame him, when he pried he tended not to like what he found. The wizards wordlessly took the amulets and followed Sam out of the house to the waiting Dean.
Chapter Seven
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: Don’t own the boys!
Author’s Notes: Okay, this is hopefully going to serve to tie up a few questions and fulfill a few kinks… *snerks* Also, I did promise slash and I need to get it started somehow… Next chapter will have some action, I swear! Please see Master Post for warnings, ratings and pairings and enjoy!
******************
Chapter Six - Wherein we don’t reach the main plot because Harry is a chatterbox…
Harry Potter found himself in the kitchen with all three men, something that had not occurred since they had encountered the Winchesters in the morgue. Dean was staring at a flat electronic contraption that Harry had not heard about. He hadn’t been in the muggle world in sometime and was shocked and amazed at the size of mobile phones let alone whatever new computer device was on the market. Harry however, did recognize the sound from Dudley’s late night game playing and guessed it was some sort of racing car game. Dean was very intent on the glowing screen, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out ever so slightly from full lips. For a brief and absurd moment Harry thought of James playing Wizard Chess with Rose. Harry smiled despite himself.
It wasn’t long after Sam was recovered that Dean insisted that they go back to the morgue and pick up his vehicle. Harry didn’t like the idea and he was more than certain that Malfoy loathed it but begrudgingly, because he was trying to get the muggle to help him after all, Harry agreed. But he wouldn’t let Sam and Dean go together and he certainly wouldn’t let Dean go alone. Harry went with him and Draco stayed behind to watch Sam.
The trip, as it turned out, had been rather fortuitous because the car was an absolute wealth of supplies. Harry didn’t really like the fact that they had all those weapons within easy reach, but he also made sure the car was outside of the wards to deter an ill-advised escape attempt on the brothers’ part.
With his car and a fresh set of clothes, the elder Winchester seemed to be content for the moment but the same could not be said about his younger brother.
Harry could sense Sam’s frustration from across the table as he flipped through page after page of a large leather-bound book. Harry was fairly certain it was also rescued from the car’s boot considering it was not one of his and Malfoy’s, though he probably wouldn’t recognize it regardless. He still wasn’t much for reading and continued to leave the research for Hermione or Malfoy.
“Something the matter Sam?” Harry asked finally.
Sam looked over at him and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I can’t find that damn symbol anywhere. I’m trying to see if there’s any way to track the patterns so we’ll have a fighting chance at saving the next victim. But I’ve come up with zilch so far and I’ve been looking through book after book ever since we got the car.”
Harry saw Malfoy hold out a hand. It took Sam a moment to realize what was being asked but he handed the book over to the blond wizard. Malfoy turned it and read the spine, putting it aside just as quickly.
Harry watched him stand up and go over to his magically expanded satchel. He rifled through it for a moment before pulling out three very large books which he dropped in front of Sam with a bang.
“That is because you are looking in the wrong place, Winchester. If I had known you were so interested I would have given you these days ago. Merlin knows I could use the help. Though Winchester, I warn you, if these books are defiled in anyway what-so-ever, I will not hesitate to hex you, understood?” Malfoy commented.
Harry sent the other wizard a wide grin. It was nice to see Malfoy being so civil, especially with muggles. If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d even say that Malfoy had developed something of a fondness for the Winchester boys. But of course Harry knew better.
Without looking away from the game Dean said, “You hex him, I shoot you.” There was no heat in it and Harry actually saw a smile twitch on the blond’s lips… Harry furrowed his brow… maybe he didn’t know better…
“I’d like to see you try, Winchester,” Malfoy taunted in good humour, turning to the shorter man. Dean flipped Malfoy off and Malfoy actually laughed out loud. Harry, so caught up in the stunning expression on the man’s face, forgot to be further surprised by the sudden camaraderie. Also though, seeing Draco Malfoy of all people so relaxed and free was almost unnerving. Harry also felt an uncomfortable stirring somewhere within that he was not prepared to examine just yet.
Sam looked curiously back and forth between Dean and Malfoy, “You two seem to be getting along.” There was only a faint trace of suspicion in the long haired man’s tone. Harry’s own returned quite suddenly.
Dean shrugged and Malfoy took a sip of tea. Harry watched Sam’s eyes narrow further and he too began to wonder when the two men had become so friendly with one another. Harry filed that away in order to investigate later. He and Malfoy needed to have a heart to heart it seemed.
They lapsed into companionable silence for a moment, before they were all startled by a loud electronic crashing sound and an equally loud “son of a bitch,” courtesy of Dean. Malfoy, the least familiar with both noises actually started a little in his seat and Harry caught the faint motion of his arm twitching under the table. Most likely sliding his wand free from its sheath.
Dean put the computer contraption aside and smacked his hands on his thighs, “Well, I’m bored. Let’s get outta here. We’ve been stuck in this hole for three days now, whatever marbles I have remaining are startin’ to rattle loose.”
Harry for one saw merit to the plan, with three children and an action packed job he was not at all accustomed to remaining still for so long and he still wanted to get Malfoy some clothing that didn’t look quite so conspicuous. Harry had packed his share of muggle clothing so it wouldn’t be a problem for him. Now he just had to convince Malfoy of the same. What joy Harry had in his life.
“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Harry said enthusiastically. “I still need to get the great ponce in clothing that doesn’t make him look like he walked out of a catalogue for Death Eaters.”
Malfoy huffed, “Potter, I resent that remark on all accounts.”
Harry shot him a blank look, “Well it wasn’t meant to be friendly.” Dean snickered at that one.
“Oh yes? Well how do you propose exactly that we do such a thing when my serviceable robes are the only attire I’ve packed?” Malfoy raised an elegant brow.
Harry frowned, “Er… right.”
“He can wear some of Sam’s stuff,” Dean said with a shrug.
Malfoy looked fully and truly scandalized, “Are you completely mad Winchester? I will not be caught dead in those rags.”
“Hey! What’s wrong with my clothes?” Sam demanded with a burgeoning pout.
“Yeah, what’s wrong with Sammy’s clothes?” Dean frowned quick to defend his brother’s (and by extension his own) wardrobe.
“They’ll fit you Malfoy, what’s the problem?” Harry asked genuinely confused.
Malfoy looked at all of them as if they were off their respective rockers. When none of them offered up any indication that they understood the blond’s displeasure Malfoy actually huffed, “They’re plaid Potter. Plaid.”
“Seriously, that’s the only excuse you can come up with?” Harry asked the blond flatly. “They are perfectly fine Malfoy. Once we get to the shops you can pick out whatever your little heart desires. But for now, you’re wearing them.”
Malfoy stood and stormed over to the doorway muttering about bloody Gryffindors and plebeian muggles, Harry was rather thankful he couldn’t hear the full extent of the rant because he was sure it was not at all pleasant.
Malfoy stopped quite suddenly and turned around, an expression of exasperation clear on his face, “Come Winchester. I’m not sorting through what passes for your apparel alone.”
Sam stood, “Oh ah… yeah.”
“Okay, I agree, he’s gonna look fuckin’ weird,” Dean commented after the two taller man had left. Harry couldn’t help but concur.
-*-
Harry was bored out of his mind and he knew Dean wasn’t fairing much better. They had been waiting for no less than forty-five minutes for Malfoy and Sam to re-emerge. Harry had never known another bloke that took so long to put on clothing. Occasionally both dark haired men would tense upon hearing a random muffled argument but nothing bloody seemed to emerge from it and both would relax soon after. Harry was just about to give up and start putting dinner on when he heard footsteps approach the door. He looked up and over in relief at Malfoy finally returning. When he saw him, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh out loud or flee in search of a cold shower. Malfoy, despite his obvious discomfort (which of course provided Harry’s amusement) wore muggle well (which of course arose the need for the cold shower).
“The lummox does have something other than plaid as it turns out,” Malfoy commented airily holding his arms out to the side. “Though these trousers are outright foul and itch like a bugger. What did you call them again?”
Sam answered exasperated, “Jeans.”
“Yes jeans they are utterly torn, don’t you muggles have any decency? Surely you could patch these at least?”
Sam gritted his teeth, “I bought them that way.”
“Merlin… Why? It is all you could afford?” Malfoy looked aghast.
“No… It’s. The. Style,” Sam’s frustration appeared to reach the breaking point and Harry decided to jump in and save the day.
“You look swell Malfoy, very nice in white. And that design is right smart. Shall we get on?” Harry jumped eagerly to his feet, hoping to forestall the diva show-down before it could reach astronomical proportions. Also trying to avoid looking at Malfoy in the semi-tight fitting denims that made his long legs look all the longer and his arse that much more appealing. Damnit Potter. Stop. He chastised himself.
“Wait, you need these first,” Sam held up four pendants hanging from functional thin black leather strips, two looked necklace length the others looked shorter as if they’d go around a wrist with a smaller charm attached.
Malfoy reached up curiously and took one of the pieces, “Is this a muggle custom? Do you all wear identification tags of some short?”
“No,” Sam looked uncomfortable. “They’re protective amulets and charms.”
Harry frowned, it was rare that wizards had to make use of protective amulets, they were usually reserved for children who had yet to master or were unable to use their skills.
“For what?” Harry asked.
Sam held up the necklace, “This one is simple. It will protect you from demon possession and also hide you from their radar. It’s pretty common among hunters…” He held up the short one with the charm, “This one is a little more complicated it will guard you from angels.”
“Angels? Why ever would we need protection from angels?” Malfoy asked. “Aren’t they good spirits for you muggles?”
“Sam,” Dean said in a warning tone and Harry couldn’t figure out why.
“Dean, they have a right to know,” Sam protested, looking imploringly at his brother.
“Sam. Drop it,” Dean said lower and more insistently. Seeing the dark glower in Dean’s eye made Harry embarrassingly nervous.
“Dean,” Sam said simply giving his brother a look that probably only had meaning to the two Winchesters.
Sam turned back to Malfoy and him, “We had this friend… Ca-”
“Damnit Sam! I told you not to-”
Sam looked exasperated cutting Dean’s tirade off, “He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named then!”
Harry tensed immediately, wondering if it were possible that these boys had known Voldemort… but surely not, they had to have been little more than children when the war was going on half-way across the world and he highly doubted such well-adjusted men would have been hunting and killing monsters as teenagers. Also, they knew little beyond the Wizarding World other than the foolish Occult obsessed muggles that claimed themselves to be witches (which Harry figured he and Malfoy would probably have to explain at some point), though Harry also realized that he knew very little about these men. He saw that Malfoy had also stiffened and began to edge away slowly from the tall muggle, his eyes shooting around for an escape route, his mind catapulting back to what was sure his own private hell.
“I’m waiting in the car. I ain’t listening to this shit,” Dean stormed out of the house. The slamming of the front door caused them all to wince.
“He’s dead,” Malfoy said quietly and probably more to himself than the two remaining men. “Potter, you killed him.”
“Yes Draco’s he’s been dead for nearly fifteen years,” Harry said soothingly, approaching Malfoy as one would an agitated hippogriff.
“What?” Sam looked confused as he turned his gaze back and forth between Harry and Malfoy. “Castiel isn’t dead, he’s just MIA… And scary mega-nuclear but that’s a story for another day.”
That stopped Harry and Malfoy both, “Castiel?”
“Yeah… the… angel we’re hiding from. He was our friend, closer to a brother really and he went all dark side, supernova. Dean and I need to stop him, but Dean is real torn up over it and is refusing to do anything about it. That’s why I’m not allowed to say his name… around Dean anyway. Who are you talking about?”
Harry and Malfoy shared a glance, no point drudging up the past. “…That’s a story for another day,” Harry eventually said.
“Oh all right then, well as soon as you put these on we can go,” Sam shrugged. Clearly, the years had taught him not to pry into business people didn’t want to share. Harry didn’t blame him, when he pried he tended not to like what he found. The wizards wordlessly took the amulets and followed Sam out of the house to the waiting Dean.
Chapter Seven