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Chapter Text

“The only impossible journey is the one you never begin.” by Anthony Robbins

Youichi was in the midst of evaluating the newest contribution to his ever growing threat notebook, when the metallic door of the school roof banged open. The bleached blond didn’t even have to take a guess as to the identity of the newcomer, because the tumultuous entry had been accompanied by an overzealous ‘Hiruma-kun’ for all of Tokyo to hear. Seconds later a pointed head appeared around the corner.

He idly wondered if acquainting Kurita with one of his guns would help dampen the boy’s overenthusiastic tendencies, but quickly gave up on the idea. While the calculated success rate was above zero percent, the undertaking, in all its annoying glory, would distract him from more pressing matters. Like increasing his slave-network, for example.

“What do you want fucking fatty? Apart from puncturing my eardrums, I mean.” The blond continued sifting through the copious amounts of photographs and sorted them by blackmail potential. It was quite fascinating what people got up to in their spare time.  

“Hiruma-kun! I found someone amazing!” Kurita went on shouting, completely disregarding Youichi’s reprimand. The nerve! “Yesterday, on my way home, some kids were playing catch in the park and one of them missed the ball. It was about to hit an elder lady, but suddenly a boy dashed up to her and caught the ball just before it reached her! It was amazing, Hiruma-kun, amazing!”

“And what do I care about a random fucking person, fucking fatty?”

“But that’s it Hiruma-kun! He’s a new student who transferred to Musashi-kun’s class. D- do you think he’ll want to play American football with us?”

For a long moment Youichi stared blankly at a shot of his math teacher in drag, not even noticing the protesting twinge in his jaw, which was caused by his clenched teeth. He hadn’t… he hadn’t known there was a transfer student. Obviously his intelligence gathering network was nowhere near sufficient at this point.

Finally, after having patched his pokerface back together, the blond slid the stack of photographs into a side-pocket of his bag, slung it over one shoulder and shoved another piece of sugarless gum into his mouth in quick succession.

“Ke ke ke, why didn’t you say so earlier? Let’s take a look at our newest teammate.” He pressed one foot against Kurita’s backside and urged the lineman towards the door.

“But Hiruma-kun, he has to say ‘yes’ first!”

“Oh, he will.”

“No blackmailing!”

Instead of running around school like a headless chicken, Youichi headed for Musashi’s classroom first. If their target happened to be elsewhere, there was still enough of their break left to ask around school – read: threaten his classmates into helping them.

They stopped in front of classroom 2b and peered inside. At once, all conversations ceased, when the pupils noticed the blond devil in their midst. Everyone tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, some even going as far as escaping through the second door.

Ha, it was nice to be feared!

Youichi scanned the remaining teenagers, idly noticing that Musashi wasn’t there, until his gaze got caught by a lone boy, sitting at the far end of the room.  His face was directed at the window and part of it covered by black glasses, but enough facial features were visible to identify the raven-haired teen as a Caucasian foreigner.

“Hiruma-kun, that’s him,” Kurita ‘whispered’ in a tone of voice that small children use when they think they’re being quiet. Consequently, everyone in the room heard him. With the exception of the foreign boy, perhaps, who still didn’t pay them any attention.

Instead of confronting the brunet with a Glock 17 or an AK-47, Youichi pulled out the football he usually used to train in his spare time. His throwing skills were nowhere near perfect, but would suffice for this purpose. Blowing a bubble-gum bubble, whilst expertly ignoring the multitude of gasps, the blond took aim and launched his projectile into the boy’s direction to rouse him out of his daydreaming. Maybe he’d even get an initial impression on those ‘amazing’ catching skills.

For a long moment Youichi saw the football collide with the teen’s arm in his mind’s eye. Then, just as it reached his personal space, the brunet flinched minutely, before twisting his body in a show of great flexibility to slide off his chair and assume a defensive position behind his desk. The football whizzed above the dark mop of hair and missed the window by a hair's breadth.

The popping of Youichi’s bubble gum sounded like an explosion in the eerie silence of the classroom.

While most of those present stared at their classmate in shocked astonishment, a thousand thoughts whirled through the blond’s head. Part of his brain was focussing on the brunet’s abnormal behaviour, another was busy working out ways to utilise the quick reflexes to his advantage.

Before his target, or anyone for that matter, had a chance to pull himself together, Youichi strode through the room and leant over the desk slash shield.

“Hey, fucking foreigner, want to join the American football club?”

A pair of green, blank eyes fixed on his as the brunet slowly got up from his crouched position and gingerly sat back down on his chair.

“No.”

Chapter Text

“Transformation is a process, and as life happens there are tons of ups and downs. It's a journey of discovery - there are moments on mountaintops and moments in deep valleys of despair.” by Rick Warren

“I’m back.”

Uttering a soft sigh, Harry dropped his school bag next to the coat rack in the hall and shuffled towards the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, eyed the steaming bowls of takeaway ramen on the table and stared at his sheepishly grinning godfather.

The brunet snorted and sank down on his usual chair, before breaking apart the supplied wooden chopsticks. By now Harry was pretty proficient at using them, though he was still reluctant to acknowledge them as primary cutlery.

“What were you trying to make this time?”

Usually Harry was the one to cook, but sometimes his godfather’s mind was set on preparing a meal all by himself. Unfortunately, Sirius had never developed any culinary skills, because in Azkaban you were glad to get something halfway edible and the rest of his previous life had been spent with a house elf on hand, be it in Grimmauld Place, Hogwarts or Potter Manor. Needless to say that Sirius’ cooking attempts almost always ended in disaster – one time Harry had even come back to a house fire in the making – and takeaway food.

“It was supposed to be treacle tart, but… well, the… the dough might have exploded,” the older brunet admitted with a crocked grin, while tucking into his meal.  “Anyway, how was your day?”

Harry stilled in mid-chew, eyes dulling a tad more than usual.  He quickly swallowed his mouthful and proceeded to eat as if nothing had happened.

 “It was fine.”

Sirius hummed and raised an eyebrow at him. “And classes?  I know your Japanese still needs some work and you’re missing a few years of muggle schooling. I bet it’s hard to keep up. I can look for a tutor, if you want me to.”

“I’ll manage. It’s not like it matters, anyway. I’ll just have to finish the next school year and then I’m done with the obligatory schooling,” the younger brunet muttered into his non-existent beard and pierced the soggy noodles in front of him with a glare.  

“But don’t you want to-“

Harry threw his chopsticks next to the still half full bowl and jumped to his feet, thereby upsetting his chair, which crashed to the floor. Neither of them paid attention to it.

“What I want is to ride my Firebolt and look for the Snitch during Quidditch games. What I want is to be in Hogwarts with my best friends to learn spells and be annoyed at Snape, because he’s a prejudiced git again. What I want-“

He felt the tell-tale prickling behind his eyes, but resolutely refused to cry.  Crying had never helped him and it wouldn’t now.

“I’ll never get what I want, Sirius. Not after what happened in that manor. Not after… not after what Voldemort did to me. I should have gone the other way… I shouldn’t have come ba-“

Strong, but still far too skinny, arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. The brunet flinched and tried to escape, but a couple of failed attempts later he finally gave up and dropped his head on the older man’s shoulder.

Sirius’ voice was scratchy, when he murmured into his godson’s raven locks, “I can’t even imagine how hard this must be for you, but please don’t ever think like that, Harry. I’m so, so glad that I haven’t lost you that day and I swear I’m somehow going to make it better.”

Harry knew nothing could possible make his situation better, but for now he’d let his godfather hope.

The next day started as usual.

Harry went to school, ignored the American football in his shoe locker and shuffled to his classroom, where he found yet another American football magazine on his desk – surprisingly enough, they were always in English. He briefly eyed the tall, well-built athletes – the complete opposite to his small, scrawny frame – with envy-fuelled disdain, before shoving the magazine into the storage place under the top of his desk.  

The next few hours were spent with half-hearted attempts to translate his teachers’ lectures and the Japanese characters on the blackboard into something comprehensible. The only subject he had no problem understanding was, of course, English, but the butchering of his mother language – even by the teacher - was almost worse.

Not being particularly inclined to stay in the classroom during lunch break, Harry opted to go for a walk around school, which ended on the roof twenty minutes later. He regretted his choice at once, when he recognised his unmistakable tormentor of the last few days. The footballs and the magazines he could live with, but the blond – Hisuka or something – had adopted the annoying habit of tossing random stuff at him. At first Harry had evaded the items due to instinct, but by now the brunet just dodged everything on principle.

He also kind of wanted to throw a punch at the bloke’s shit-eating grin.

“Ah, if it isn’t the fucking foreigner. Finally decided to join the Devil Bats?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at being addressed in English, with an American accent to boot, but decided to shove that little titbit into the back of his mind. “No. I’m pondering the best way to push you over the railing. Any suggestions?”

Instead of taking the brunet’s words as an affront, the taller teen stepped closer and poked a long, slim finger into Harry’s chest. 

“Kekeke, so you’re not a fucking wimp, after all. How about a deal, then? There’s going to be a practice match next week. You’ll participate and come to practice until then. If you’re still not interested in joining afterwards, I’ll leave you alone.”

The brunet snorted. “I somehow can’t imagine you giving up that easily. Why do you want me in your team anyway? I don’t even know the rules of American football!”

The elf-boy – seriously, there was no way that bloke was completely human – eyed Harry like he thought him a complete idiot, making the urge to punch the blond git return tenfold.

“Are you fucking kidding me, fucking foreigner? Your reflexes are top-notch and according to the fucking fatty you’re not half bad at catching. So, do you agree or not?”

Harry stared at the blond for a long moment, weighting the pros and cons. On one hand it felt like selling his soul to the devil, but on the other hand it was a chance to burst the bloke’s bubble. Someone like him would never be good at a sport seemingly based on height and strength. That would teach – Haruna? – to leave him alone far better than the brunet’s continued disregard.

 “You’ve got yourself a deal, Tinkerbelle.”

Chapter Text

"Success is a journey, not a destination. The doing is often more important than the outcome." by Arthur Ashe

Potter would be a member of the Maou Devil Bats, even if it’d be the last thing he did!

The brunet had shown up a bit late to the training, but at least he’d already changed into sportswear, which, probably, was the reason for his tardiness. Youichi reluctantly let it slide for the day, but if it became a repeat offense… well, he did have his ways and means (insert evil cackling).

Karma being a bitch, the fucking foreigner had to endure Kurita’s exuberant welcome and though his expression didn’t deviate from the usual blankness, he didn’t interrupt the other boy or walk away. Before he put Potter through his paces, starting with the 40-yard dash, Youichi reminded him nicely (read: threatened him with a gun) to give it his all. The brunet didn’t even have the good grace to flinch.

All of that ceased to matter, when Potter reached the goal in 4.9 seconds, easily outrunning all of them, which he promptly proved again, when they played the part of rival players to test his evading skills. Potter was a slippery, little bastard. Youichi approved.

Catching was next and the fucking foreigner actually, finally caught the fucking footballs instead of evading them. All of them, even the ones which went off-course. The brunet wasn’t all that great at throwing though. He wasn’t atrocious, but they’d have to put more focus on that part of his training.

After finding out what the fucking foreigner was capable of, the blond explained the rules of American Football, the basic strategies and what routes were all about, because Potter would be their receiver primarily and fill in roles like running back whenever necessary. It sucked to not have enough regular players.

When training was over, Kurita suggested going to a ramen place, but the idea was summarily dismissed by Potter, who wandered over to his bag and headed out of the school, probably back home. Musashi also declined, giving helping out at his family’s construction company as the reason.

Kurita slumped dejectedly, but Youichi didn’t care. He was just glad that they’d found a few capable players.

They’d just finished the first quarter of their practice match, when Youichi, gulping down refreshing water, noticed movement in his peripheral vision. He turned his head slightly to the side and eyed the rival team’s receiver, who’d intercepted the fucking foreigner on his way to their bench. If the sneer on the guy’s face was any indication, he hadn’t approached Potter for an exchange of pleasantries. Youichi was curious how the brunet would react. The other teen was often withdrawn and apathetic for whatever reason, but he didn’t strike him (anymore) as someone who allowed people to walk all over him.

Putting the water bottle back on the bench, Youichi strained his ears, but unfortunately only understood every third word or so. It was enough to figure out the fucking receiver’s deal, however. Apparently he was a racistic asshole and took offence at playing against a Brit (among other things). Idiot.

The blond couldn’t see Potter’s face, but his body language suggested disinterest. That is, until the word ‘freak’ left the receiver’s lips and whatever bullshit that followed. The fucking foreigner’s shoulders tensed as he hissed something back that Youichi didn’t catch, then he turned his back on the idiot and strode towards them.

The blond was… a bit taken aback, even if he didn’t show it outwardly. Potter’s expression was stormy, which wasn’t a big fucking deal, but his eyes were burning. Sizzling hot determination was staring back at him, a stark contrast to the vacant gaze Youichi had been subjected to for the last week.

Potter eyed each of the main members in turn, “Let’s crush them!”

Youichi smirked dangerously, showing a lot more sharp teeth than the fill-ins were comfortable with. He liked where this was going. Liked it a lot.

“Not a bad fucking idea,” the blond agreed amused and urged the rest of the team into a huddle. “Crush them, YA-HA!”

They didn’t end up crushing them. A new team consisting of three members, one maybe member and a few, blackmailed fill-ins just wasn’t good enough to manage such a feat. They did, however, win, if only by three points courtesy of Musashi. And Potter, well, he hadn’t been bad in the first quarter, per se, but he had visibly lacked motivation. Thanks to the other team’s asshole, he’d almost done a one-eighty and scored four touchdowns, beating the receiver who was a whole head taller than the brunet.

Shoving a new, sugarless gum into his mouth, Youichi watched Potter evade Kurita’s attempts at squeezing him to death in exhilaration (also known as a hug). Top-notch reflexes indeed.

“So, what’s your verdict, fucking green eyes, you in or not?”

The Brit looked back at him. The fire was snuffed out again, but the green eyes didn’t look as dead as before, which was progress. Several seconds ticked by. The blond half-expected a refusal and already considered ways to… convince him, after all. Finally, Potter uttered a long-suffering sigh and gave him a nod.

“Sure, why not? It’s not like you’ll stop bugging me even if I say no, not matter what we agreed on.”

Youichi cackled, while Kurita finally got his arms around his new team mate and squeezed.

Chapter Text

"Never let a stumble in the road be the end of your journey", by unknown

Youichi eyed the small, one-family house, before making his way over to the entrance. As soon as he rang the bell, a bark could be heard from the other side of the door, then some shuffling, until the door was opened by a tall, dark-haired man. If the blond wasn’t wrong (and he wasn’t), this was Sirius Black, fucking green-eyes’ godfather and former (innocent) fugitive. The other man was a bit gaunt, but that didn’t make the suspicion in his eyes any less impressive. Youichi plastered an innocent-looking smile on his face (his default expression, when he wanted something and threatening or blackmailing weren’t an option) and opened his mouth.

“Yeah, no kid,” the man interrupted with a snort and perfectly enunciated Japanese, before the blond had the chance to make something up anything. “I’ve pulled that expression long before you were born. Drop the act and tell me what you want.”

Youichi was a bit nonplussed, but quickly pulled himself together and smirked.

“I’m the captain of the Maou Devil Bats, Hiruma Youichi.”

“Ah, you’re that American football bloke, Harry’s been complaining about,” the man figured out, expression clearing for whatever reason. If Potter had been bad-mouthing him (perhaps with good reason), why would his legal guardian be happy to see him? “Come on in. Harry’s upstairs in his-”

“No, I’m not,” fucking green-eyes denied from the landing, before climbing down the stairs. Potter had raised an eyebrow, but didn’t seem very annoyed to see him. “What’re you doing here, Tink? We don’t have training today.”

Youichi rolled his eyes in annoyance, but didn’t remark anything in regards to the nickname. Potter had made it clear that he’d use it as long as the blond insisted on calling him fucking so-and-so and Youichi wasn’t caving. On the other hand, it was probably a bad idea to follow his usual pattern in front of Black.

“I’m here to make sure you get into Shinryuji,” Youichi stated with an almost manic grin, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his black pants. “The entrance exams for high school start next school year and Kurita has no chance in fucking hell to pass it. Musashi and I can pass it no problem and Kurita will get the sponsored spot, which leaves you. I’ll cram enough knowledge into your brain to make you pass the test, too.”

At once, fucking green-eyes’ face closed off.

“I have no plans to go to high school.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but hard as granite. “So you can fuck off and spent your time blackmailing people or whatever it is you’re doing in your free time.” The brunet turned round on his heel and disappeared back upstairs, the bang of a door followed shortly after.

Black sighed but didn’t look surprised. Upon noticing Youichi’s inquiring gaze, the man reluctantly elaborated, “Some bad stuff happened to him back in England and he lost a lot… Harry’s been like this ever since. To be honest, I was really surprised when he joined your team. He didn’t tell me about the game or I’d have come… I had hoped- Well…”

Youichi unwrapped a new stripe of gum for the sole reason of avoiding the sight of the forlorn man in front of him. The former fugitive, who’d come all the way to Japan with his probably orphaned godson, after a most likely traumatic experience. Great, just what he needed… The blond wasn’t a fucking psychologist and even if, he didn’t know the whole story. What he did know was that an ember of fire had survived in his team mate, he’d seen it, if only for a short while on the field and maybe for a split second on the school’s rooftop more than a week ago. And he’d see it again, he’d make sure of that!

The blond turned to Black and decidedly ignored the slumped shoulders and the downturned head.

“The fu- Harry will go to high school!” YA-HA!

“Yeah sure, do your worst. It’s not like the situation can get more downhill. Second door on the left.” With another sigh, the older man disappeared into the living room, leaving Youichi to his own devices. ‘His worst’, huh? No fucking problem at all!

Now, which was the strategy with the best success rate?

When Youichi opened Potter’s bedroom door without a by your leave, the other teen was shoving something behind his back. The blond’s eyes automatically zeroed in on the criss-crossing red lines of scar tissue on the brunet’s stomach, which were visible due to the shirt having ridden up a bit. Youichi filed the information away for later and stepped farther into the room. It was sparsely furnished and even the hotel room he was currently living in housed more personal possessions than Potter’s bedroom did.

“Didn’t I tell you to leave?”

Youichi snorted and let his gaze wander back to the brunet on the bed, who was scowling at him. Cute.

“I’m not good at listening to orders.”

“Or minding your own business,” fucking green-eyes grumbled. “Why do you care anyway, whether I go to high school or not? I already agreed to stay a member of the Devil Bats until graduation and that high school you want to go to probably has a good American football team with better receivers than me.”

Youichi was almost fascinated that the brunet still hadn’t figured out his own skills or the amount of untapped potential that hadn’t been unearthed, yet. Almost. It was getting annoying.

“Tell you what, fucking green-eyes, we’ll shelve the high school talk. We’ll still proceed with the tutoring, though.” Potter had already proven susceptible to being annoyed into something (he most likely used to be somewhat of a hothead), but insisting on too much too fast only led to an appearance of the other teen’s stubbornness. Baby steps and all that bullshit. “Starting with Japanese. It’s gotta be annoying to only understand half of what’s going on around you.”

“But I just-“

“We’ll start tomorrow, be prepared!”

Chapter Text

"Strive for progress, not perfection." by anonymous

“Did you inherit those from your parents?” Harry wondered out of the blue and motioned to Youichi’s ears and teeth, when the other teen looked blankly back at him. The blank mask quickly gave way to a calculating gleam however.

“If I answer your question, will you finally pay attention, fucking green-eyes? I’ll tell you for a week of cooperation during lunch break.”

“One lunchbreak,” Harry countered automatically, without having decided if he was actually willing to agree to the deal.

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Two lunchbreaks and a whole Sunday, last offer, take it or leave it, fucking green-eyes,” the blond declared, seemingly nonchalant, though Harry knew the other teen was bluffing, wanted him to agree at all costs. He still didn’t understand why Youichi was so keen on getting him into his favoured high school, keen enough to bargain with personal information that the blond usually kept close to his chest.

Well, now the question was, did Harry accept the deal or not?  He was really curious and that was the exception nowadays, but was he willing to go along with Youichi’s plan, even just slightly? The blond had dragged him to the school’s rooftop when lunchbreak had started and dropped a bunch of books and folders with notes into his lap. So far, Harry had ignored all of them to Youichi’s apparent frustration. It had to drive the other teen up the wall to be unable to blackmail or threaten him into doing whatever he wanted.

The thing was… Harry didn’t care. He didn’t care about high school, about making friends, about fitting in. Sometimes he didn’t even feel like getting up in the mornings to be honest. There was nothing threatening enough the blond could come up with that would bother him. Youichi likened himself to a demon, to the devil and others did too, but in truth he was utterly harmless. Sure, he was capable of unearthing secrets and destroying lives with them, but so far he’d only used a bit of blackmail, mostly on people who were despicable anyway. And the guns? Ha! Before the other teen actually shot someone, hell would freeze over.

But he was the most intriguing thing he’d come across in a long while…

“Alright, Tink. If you give me a satisfying answer, I cooperate for two lunchbreaks and a Sunday at your place.”

The blond looked slightly taken aback, maybe due to his agreement, maybe because he’d attached a stipulation to the Sunday study session. Harry didn’t know and didn’t care. In the end, the blond snorted, but gave off an amused air.

“A satisfying answer? I could just say ‘No, I didn’t’ and you’d be none the wiser. Doesn’t sound very satisfying for you to me.”

Harry just raised his eyebrow and waited. That didn’t sound like a ‘No, I didn’t’ to him and even if… that would intrigue him even more. Perhaps. Because then he’d continue to wonder where Youichi got his unusual features from.

“If the photographs I’ve seen are to be trusted, I’ve taken after my mother in looks,” the blond revealed after a long moment of silence. He opened his mouth again, like he wanted to add something, but in the end he left it at that.

So the other teen’s mother was either dead or had taken off. Either way, Youichi had been too young to remember her appearance from memory. His face was, again, slightly smirk-y, but Harry noticed the too tense muscles and the minute twitch of fingers around the notebook spine. The blond was probably apprehensive he’d ask more about or comment on his parentage.

Instead, Harry leant back and dropped his gaze to the teaching materials in his lap. He opened one of the folders first and snorted even though he wanted to cry.

“What’s up, fucking green-eyes?” The tension had drained out of Youichi’s body and had been replaced by the usual cockiness. “Copping out is not a fucking option.”

“No, it’s just…” Harry studied the spreadsheets and the marked up text passages, while his fingertips traced the outlines of the stickon notes separating different topics. It reminded him so much of Hermione it hurt.  “No, it’s nothing. Let’s get started.”

And later, when he got home and asked Sirius to get him a book about magical beings native to Japan, the older man agreed overjoyed and dragged him into an enthusiastic hug, which the brunet reluctantly allowed.

Chapter Text

“It is a blessing not to see the entire journey, because otherwise, you may not choose to undertake it.“ by Jackie Trottmann

Fuck puberty, Youichi thought as he glared down to the hem of his pyjama pant leg, which was at least an inch higher than the previous day. And especially fuck growth-spurts. Now he had to organize a bunch of new pants, both for his uniform and for casual use….

At least it wasn't a school day.

After a few quick, threat-riddled phone calls and getting dressed (the rolled-up hems fortunately didn’t look too stupid), it was almost time for fucking green-eyes to arrive. Youichi was curious if the brunet would actually show up. Despite his contrary behaviour, Potter seemed to follow through with his promises, therefore Youichi figured he would.

Half an hour later someone knocked on his door, though it turned out to be the minion he'd instructed with bringing him new clothes.

"Kekeke, good job. Your wife won't be seeing the pictures - for now." 

"You're so weird," a familiar voice stated. Harry Potter had rounded the corner and was watching them with judgingly raised eyebrows. The business man took advantage of the blond's apparent distraction and slinked away. Youichi let him.

"Fucking green-eyes, you're late."

Potter snorted.

"Not even five minutes. Calm your horses, Tink."

The brunet stepped closer and Youichi noticed the exact moment when he figured out that Youichi was now a head taller than him. Potter's gaze wandered to the bag in Youichi's hand and finally to the rolled-up pant legs. He snorted again and passed the blond without a word to get into the hotel room.

“So, what’s up with this?” Potter inquired, vaguely waving at the room in its entirety, after Youichi had closed the door. “Did you blackmail them or did you threaten someone else to get the money to pay for it?”

The blond was a bit surprised - not because of the other teen’s (close enough) assessment of Youichi’s character however. No, it was due to Potter asking in the first place. It was the second personal question within the week and Youichi wondered if he was making headway. It was likely, considering Potter still pretty much ignored his classmates and also, mostly, his team mates.

“I don’t threaten or blackmail people for money. I place bets or win it, but yeah, I got this room by blackmailing the manager.” Youichi settled down at the table in one corner of the room, where he’d already prepared the material he wanted to shove down fucking green-eye’s throat. During their first and so far only private lesson Youichi had figured out that he didn’t have to work with stupidity, he ‘just’ had to find a way to assure motivation without resorting to violence and threats.

“Ah, gambling. Your success rate is probably pretty high,” Potter mused, while idly leafing through one of the folders on the table.

Youichi cackled.

“High enough.”

Potter snorted again and nodded towards the books, summaries and exercises.

“Well, let’s get this over with.”

One hour into their study session, Youichi’s mobile phone rang and announced an unknown number on the display. He had an idea about who was calling and cursed softly, but accepted the call anyway

“Youi-“

and promptly hung up, when his hunch was proven correct.

Annoyed, the blond glared down at the now useless device in his hand and tossed it into the waste bin. Why couldn’t his fucking old man finally take the hint that Youichi didn’t want to have anything to do with him? Give up already? Hadn’t Youichi made it more than clear?

After seething for a good few minutes, he remembered his guest, who’d witnessed the whole scene, but when he looked up, Potter was surprisingly diligently working on his assignment.  He didn’t look particularly uneasy, so Youichi figured the brunet was trying to give him a moment to calm back down. He couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit grateful.

Hours later they decided to take a break and Youichi called room service to bring them lunch.

While they waited, the blond busied himself with setting up his new mobile phone, but observed Potter from the corner of his eyes. The other teen was apparently trying to talk himself in or out of something, if the aborted arm movements were anything to go by.

“Ah, almost forgot,” Potter finally announced with forced nonchalance, as if he really had just remembered whatever he wanted to do. The brunet pulled his backpack closer and started to rummage around in it. He unearthed a leather-bound book and held it out to Youichi, who accepted it with a bemused frown.

“I’m not sure if-, I just- I- I thought you should know.” Potter offered him an awkward shrug and avoided any kind of accidental eye contact by looking down to the chicken-scratch he tried to pass off as handwritten notes.

Full of barely concealed curiosity, the blond flipped through the book – A compendium of Japanese mythical creatures and beings. Each entry included one or more detailed drawings. Finally, he reached a bookmarked page and gasped, when he recognized the familiar features. He’d seen them often enough in the mirror.

"Is this a fucking joke, fucking green-eyes?”

His grip on the book cover tightened.

Potter stared blankly back at him.

"Does it look like one, Tink?"

And really, this being a joke was more probable than what the book implied (not only about his mother and other ancestors, but also for a whole slew of other mythical beings). It sounded impossible, but hadn't he done impossible things in his life? ‘Not enough space’ wasn’t part of his vocabulary. But still…

"Alright, let's say it isn't. Where did you get this? Doesn't look like a run-of-the-mill publication." The leather binding alone was unusual, but could've been explained away if it had been an old book. The pages were as white as fresh snow and smelled new however. "Some kind of magical book shop?  Are you secretly a dragon, fucking green-eyes?"

Which was apparently the worst thing he could've said. The blank expression cracked like a frozen lake, whose thin sheen of ice hadn’t been strong enough to support someone’s weight. Youichi shifted uncomfortably when he witnessed the raw distress washing over the brunet's face. For a moment he thought Potter might even start crying, but then the other teen blinked a few times and the suspiciously wet shine in his eyes disappeared.

"Nothing. I'm nothing!" Potter finally growled out.

And that, Youichi figured, was the major issue.

Chapter Text

“The only journey is the one within.“ by Rainer Maria Rilke

Harry felt like fleeing the situation and wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t gone through with it, yet. Just a few weeks ago he would’ve been halfway back home already.

He regretted giving Youichi the book, but he also didn’t .

The blond’s revelation about not knowing his mother had tugged on the brunet’s heartstrings, but the driving factor behind Harry’s research had been the possibility that she may be a magical being. It had roused his curiosity, something he still couldn’t quite ignore. Not even an hour of flipping through the book about Japanese creatures and beings had been necessary to prove his assumption correct. 

Everyone’s comparison of Youichi to a demon wasn’t entirely wrong, but not completely correct either. The blond was apparently part yokai, also known as a hanyou. Harry was pretty sure Youichi had no idea about his heritage and after being in the dark for the first eleven years of his life himself, the brunet was of the opinion that everyone should be aware of their magical roots. This was the reason why he’d brought the book to the meeting in the first place, but he’d still been hesitant.

The hotel room had given him the necessary nudge to go through with it. Harry didn’t know the story of how the other teen had ended up living there, but it was obvious he was alone - no father or any other relative in sight.

He had expected the blond’s disbelief and  questions and had dreaded both, but why did Youichi have to make this about Harry? Harry who no longer belonged to the world the other teen could still be part of?

Clenching his eyes shut, Harry burrowed his face in his hands and tried to draw in a few deep breaths. He was mostly successful, but it took a while for his heartbeat to return to normal. 

“Hey, fucking green-eyes.” A foot kicked lightly against Harry’s ankle. The blond’s voice was nowhere near soft, but lacked the usual confrontational undertone. “Where can I find more books like that?”

Harry looked up in surprise. He had expected a demand for more information right this moment or for Youichi to ask him what he’d meant with his statement, not for a way to procure more reading material. Then again Harry was notoriously hard to get information out of, therefore it was quite possible that Youichi wanted to take the easier route. Still, there was something in the other’s green eyes that told him it wasn’t the only reason. 

 Without a word Harry tore one of his notebook sheets off and scrawled an address on it. It was the one to the entrance of Tokyo’s magical mall. Harry had never been there, but Sirius had raved about it often enough that he at least knew the location. It was probably the best place for Youichi to start. Harry also wouldn’t be surprised if the blond had a network of magical minions in a matter of weeks. 

He slid the the piece of paper over to the blond, who studied it with more concentration than was necessary.

“Thanks, Harry.”

Said brunet blinked in surprise. It was probably the first time the other teen had used his name. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought the blond didn’t even know it.

“What’re you looking at, fucking green-eyes?” Grumbling, Youichi slid the note into one of his countless notebooks.

Harry’s lips twitched.

“Nothing, Tink.”

Youichi was overwhelmed, which didn’t happen often.

It was the day after his study session with Potter and he’d set off towards the address Potter’d given him, even though this whole magic business still felt like eighty percent bullshit. The percentage had increased even more, when he’d ended up in front of a nondescript shrine. As soon as he’d set foot past the gate and gone through a short bout of disorientation,  however, a whole new world had opened up in front of him.

The shrine had disappeared, instead a market of sorts had become visible. 

The stalls mostly sold street-food and knick-knacks, but what threw Youichi for a loop (aside from the ward or whatever he’d stepped through), were the stall owners. Some of them looked normal enough, others had horns, claws or even wings and was that a tanuki over there?

What. The. Fuck .

Youichi stood there for a while, most likely gaping. Not even his notorious poker face saved him from looking like an idiot. A newcomer bumping into him, pulled the blond out of his stupor. The young man bowed and apologized, before running off to a small glass building in the middle of the market. Youichi could see a couple of elevators and an escalator inside of it.

The blond took a deep breath. 

Fake it till you make it .

Youichi sauntered over the market, trying to look like he knew what was going on. He ended up buying Kitsune oden (good thing the fucking-real-kitsune accepted yen) and a pen that supposedly never ran out of ink, all the while feeling like he’d used hallucinogenic drugs and was actually lying in bed, stoned out of his mind.

In the glass building he chose the elevator. The doors opened, a mis-matched group of people got out and Youichi entered, accompanied by a normal-looking woman with a small child strapped to her front in a baby sling. She pushed one of the buttons, seemed to realize that Youichi hadn’t, yet, and looked inquiringly towards him. The blond quickly scanned the keywords next to the multitude of different buttons, had no plan what half of them meant and chose B5, which was the floor designated to books. Or a fucking book store the size of the fucking Tokyo Stadium.

Whatever.

Three hours later his shopping basket full of books would’ve been too heavy to carry under normal circumstances, but this one was almost weightless and had something called expansion charms on it. So far, Youichi hadn’t even looked through a quarter of the book store. 

On the way to the next section, he came across a huge periodical rack of international newspapers. He’d have ignored them completely, if he hadn’t recognized the person on the cover page on one of them. 

Youichi almost yanked the Daily Prophet out of the periodical rack and stared at the familiar face of his reclusive team mate.

‘The Boy-who-Lived still missing’

Chapter Text

“The mountains are calling and I must go.” by John Muir

Harry was fuming .

One moment he’d been sitting at his kitchen table, eating breakfast, in the next three uninvited guests had invaded his home. Had this been the end of it, Harry could’ve lived with it, but no . While Musashi had accepted a backpack from Sirius (the traitor), his blond bastard of a team captain had somehow managed to tie him up with the help of an exited (and slightly guilty looking) Kurita, who had then thrown him over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes and marched out of the house.

And now here he was, sitting in the middle of a train, still tied up and glaring at all the passengers, who dared to stare at him. Upon reaching the closest train station, Tinkerbell had revealed the purpose of the kidnapping. Now that the summer break had started, they were on their way to a short training camp in the mountains. Even Musashi and their teacher slash coach (who usually left the training regime to Youichi) had found time (and motivation) to join in on the ‘fun’, so they’d conspired and worked out a plan to drag Harry along. 

“Fucking green-eyes, is it safe to untie you or will you bolt? Though I guess running all the way back would be good training, too,” Youichi asked, after they’d gotten off the train in the middle of nowhere. 

“I won’t.” Harry growled in return, tempted to suffocate the other teen with his own sugarless chewing gum somehow . “But I can’t promise that you’ll survive the night.” 

The blond just cackled and cut the rope with a pocket knife instead of untying him  as promised. The brunet couldn’t care less. The only thing that counted was the blood that finally had the chance to circulate through his body unhindered again.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s gooo! The sooner we’re at the ryokan, the sooner we can train!” Kurita exclaimed, completely ignoring the thundercloud floating over Harry’s head, and tried to rush off. Musashi grabbed him by the back of his t-shirt and pointed at the opposite direction. 

“That way.” 

A small town, a village really, surrounded the train station. The ryokan they were staying at was located at the edge of it, right next to a stream and forest. It looked like it’d fit a dozen guests at most. The owners, a friendly, older couple, greeted them warmly and showed them to their room. 

Harry had never been in a traditional Japanese room with tatami mats and shoji doors before, not to mention the futon he would be sleeping on in the next few days. Well, he’d spent the night in worse places, so the brunet figured he’d be alright.

“What now? If you say we’ll run up the mountain, I may have to rethink the time of your death,” Harry inquired grumpily after they’d changed their clothes and groaned, when he saw the smirk on the other teen’s lips.

“And now we’ll run up the mountain, fucking green-eyes!” Cackling (the urge to punch Youichi in the face hadn’t been this strong in a while), the blond pulled some stuff out of the backpack Kurita had been carrying. When Harry recognised weights for the wrists and ankles and a medicine ball, he silently calculated how far he’d have to walk to get home. Maybe he could take tramping into consideration, too. 

“Strength and endurance training first,” Doboroku announced, handing out the weights. Harry only got a set for the ankles as did Musashi, while Youichi wrapped them around his wrists and Kurita got the full package. “Musashi-kun, you’ll kick this medicine ball to the top, Potter-kun you’ll run and jump on every tenth step as high as you can, Hiruma-kun and Kurita-kun will roll a barrel filled with sand in front of them. The owner has kindly supplied two of them.”

Harry tried to remember why he’d said yes to American football in the first place. He not so vaguely remembered a plethora of magazines in his shoe locker and footballs hurtling towards him at random times. Ah, there had been that bet, right? Followed by the practice game with that arsehole, who’d called him a freak. Then one thing had led to another and now here he was - in the mountains and about to carry out a training exercise that was worse than the ones from Oliver Wood.

“Whoever doesn’t finish has to pay for our expenses on this trip, Ya-HA.”

“But Hiruma-kun! I don’t have that kind of money!” Kurita objected, his eyes big enough that it was a miracle they hadn’t  popped out yet.

Once again, the blond cackled.

“Then you better finish, fucking fatty!”

Harry had somehow managed to reach the mountain top and was the first one to do so. He also felt like dying, but surprisingly accomplished. Running and jumping on the uneven mountain ground had been exhausting, but he’d had it easy in comparison to his teammates. Harry probably wouldn’t have managed to move the barrels at all. He wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to return to the guest house, when his legs felt like jelly.

Musashi was next and Harry wasn’t at all surprised to see the other teen look as exhausted as he felt. They shared a silent, commiserating look and laid next to each other until Youichi finally made an appearance. For once the blond hair was plastered to the teen’s head and he didn’t even drop a sarcastic line, before he joined them

Half an hour passed, then a full one. Harry was still tired, but not quite as half-dead. Kurita was still notably absent.

“We should probably look for him and make sure he didn’t get lost,” Harry finally announced, reluctantly sitting up and scanning their surroundings for any unusual movement. He saw nothing but a few birds and squirrels.

They found Kurita a quarter of the way down and it was quickly apparent what the problem was. The teen was sitting on a heap of sand, bawling his eyes out. The sad remains of the barrel were lying next to him. 

“What the hell happened, fucking fatty?”

“Hiruma-kuuun!” The sobbing got louder as Kurita tried to explain. Harry at least assumed that the barely comprehensible babbling was supposed to be an explanation. The brunet sighed, crouched down next to other teen and laid one hand on his shoulder.

“Try to calm down first. Come on, deep breaths.”

It took some time, but Kurita finally stopped crying, only hiccupping occasionally.

“The barrel was stuck. I pushed harder, but then it broke and- and Hiruma-kun said we have to pay for everything, if we can’t finiiiish~” Before Kurita could work himself up into another crying fit, Harry squeezed his shoulder again.

“He was kidding.” The brunet glared over his shoulder, just daring Youichi to refute Harry’s statement. The blond snapped his mouth shut again and rolled his eyes. “It just proves you‘re pretty strong already. Just make sure to be more careful next time, okay?” 

Kurita nodded and wrapped him into a tight hug, while thanking him profusely.

Harry sighed, but endured the almost suffocating embrace without complaint.

Chapter Text

“If you can’t fly, then run, if you can’t run, then walk, if you can’t walk, then crawl, but by all means keep moving.” by Martin Luther King Jr.

Following their first (more or less) successful training exercise, the afternoon had been spent working through more individual exercises, tailored to their position, strengths and weaknesses. Overall an exhausting endeavor. 

Therefore it came as a no surprise to Youichi, when the fucking old-man and the fucking fatty promptly wandered towards the guest house exclusive hot spring, when they were done for the day. It was an indulgence Youichi had to postpone for a while in order to share the days results with their coach, which led to a few adjustments to the training plan. If he’d waited until after dinner, the man would’ve been useless, with a sake-induced alcohol level off the charts or maybe already passed out.

About an hour later, the blond was finally on his way to the hot springs, too. As soon as he set one foot into the water, he noticed the body shrouded by steam. Wading closer, he recognised Potter. He wasn’t even surprised to see him here after their other teammates had long since returned to their room. Youichi still remembered the scars and to this day the brunet hadn’t changed his clothes in front of them. It was, therefore, highly probable that Potter had waited until the hot spring was empty.

The brunet didn’t so much as twitch, when Youichi settled down next to him, but that, too, wasn’t a big surprise. The hot spring  building was open on one side and facing the stream. The natural sounds must’ve muffled the ones he was making. 

Youichi frowned at him, then snorted, before bumping their shoulders together.

Or maybe the other teen had just fallen asleep in the water.

Fucking green-eyes startled and almost managed to drown himself by accidentally swallowing some of the water. The blond settled back and watched with a smirk.

“Arsehole,” Potter mumbled, after he’d recovered and sank deeper until only his head could be seen.

“And you’re an idiot to fall asleep here. You’re asking for overheating and passing out completely and then I’d have to find someone who’d carry you back to our room, fucking green-eyes.”

“You wouldn’t even carry me yourself?” Potter asked in mock outrage.

Youichi snorted again. He knew two possible ways it would end, if he tried. Either he’d be unable to get the brunet out of the water in the first place or he’d hurt himself while trying. He wasn’t exactly a weakling and the training had only helped, but carrying around a male teen wasn’t exactly in his current skill set. He’d probably fetch Kurita instead.

“Didn’t know you’ve casted me as your knight in shining armor, fucking-green eyes.” Youichi’s smirk grew wider as Potter spluttered, tried to glare at him and fell short. The gaze of the aforementioned green eyes was slightly off. He idly wondered just how blind the other teen was without his glasses on. During practice games the brunet had started to wear contact lenses, but he sure as hell wasn’t wearing them right now. 

“Why do you do that anyway? Calling everyone ‘fucking so-and-so’, I mean. What’s up with your aversion to using someone’s name?” 

Youichi raised his eyebrows. Nobody had ever asked him that as far as he remembered. Everyone only ever took offence and then either didn’t talk to him again (if possible) or ignored it.

“I’ve always done it, so why change it now?” Although ‘always’ was probably an exaggeration. His old man was the first person he’d used this form of address with, then he’d spent a lot of time at the military base, where people had been cursing constantly. Nowadays it was a habit the blond wasn’t unhappy with.

“To not be an annoying arsehole? But that’s pretty much the opposite of your character, so…” Potter shrugged. “You could-” 

Both of them flinched, when the howling of several wolves pierced through the night. The animal was long since extinct in Japan and they weren’t even in the right region. 

“Must be wolf spirits,” Potter mumbled after a while and glanced at the nearby woods. “I think they’re some kind of mountain guardians in Japan or something like that, right? I’ve read about them in that book I gave you.”

“In a nutshell,” Youichi agreed, while he tried to convince his muscles to release the tension. This whole supernatural thing still caught him off guards more than he wanted to admit. 

Both of them fell silent, but a short while later, the blond rolled his eyes.

“Get out of the water, fucking green-eyes. Your head looks worse than a tomato.”

He knew the other teen was aware that he wouldn’t be able to sit in the hot water for much longer before passing out. The fidgeting was a dead give-away. He also knew what the problem was and sighed.

“I've seen the scars weeks ago. I won’t ask any questions.” Mostly because he already knew what had happened, at least the basics. “Now fuck off. You won’t get out of training tomorrow, even if you faint like a fucking damsel in distress.”

Harry, who’d first flinched at Youichi’s declaration, was gaping at him now. That he hadn’t bitched about the last comment showed how much he’d blindsided the brunet. Finally Harry opened his mouth, probably to ask how Youichi had found out. In the end he seemed to decide against inquiring and nodded slowly, awkwardly even. The brunet reluctantly stood up, his body tense as if he was waiting for Youichi to ask after all, when the raised lines on his skin became visible. 

There were more than the blond had seen back when he’d visited Harry’s house and to be honest some of them still looked painful. Still, Youichi kept his word and didn’t confront his team mate with any questions.

“Night fucking green-eyes.”

Harry mumbled what might’ve been a ‘good night’, too, before he quickly disappeared out of the onsen.

Youichi closed his eyes and leant back with another sigh. 

Someday, somehow he’d get rid of those insecurities. Harry Potter wasn’t meant to be this timid.

Chapter Text

“ One of the greatest journeys in life is overcoming insecurity and learning to truly not give a shit. ” by J. A. Konrath

How had it come to this? Harry honestly wasn’t sure. A few weeks ago he’d been brooding in his room or at school. Now he was part of a small sports club, listened to Kurita’s exuberant talks, shared long-suffering looks with Musashi and, somehow, he’d been roped into more Japanese lessons by Youichi following their summer camp. It was, admittedly, less annoying to live in a country, when he understood the people he was forced to interact with.

Sometimes the brunet wondered if Youichi had already visited the mall. The blond hadn’t mentioned anything magical since their study session in the other teen’s hotel room and Harry wasn’t willing to ask him for an update on the matter. But if he’d learned one thing about the teen in the time he’d known him, it was that he hated being ignorant of something. That and he could be surprisingly tactful if he wanted to be. The self-proclaimed devil had never mentioned the scars on Harry’s skin again - Just as promised.

“Look, isn’t that an owl?”

Harry, in the middle of his warm-up stretches, startled and almost tipped to the side. He regained his balance just in time, but even if he’d fallen, that would’ve been the least of his problems. Blanching, the brunet glanced around and spotted the tawny owl with a letter attached to it’s leg. It had landed close to Harry and was staring at him, which ruled out the possibility of his blond teammate being the recipient. 

“Get lost!”

Glaring at the owl proved to be a pointless endeavor. The blasted thing just kept staring back at him, as unimpressed as could be, and finally hooted. Harry growled and contemplated throwing stones at it to shoo it away, but before he’d decided one way or another, the bird hopped off the branch and dived towards him. Harry tried to evade it, but in the end it managed to land on his shoulder and dug it’s talons in. The brunet was glad he was already wearing his football gear, otherwise it would’ve drawn blood for sure. 

“Will you piss off, if I take the bloody letter?” Harry grumbled, still trying to drill holes into the damn bird’s body with his glare. It wasn’t an owl he was familiar with, so the missive could’ve been from anyone, but it didn’t make a difference either way. He had no notion of reading it. 

The owl hooted again and nipped his ear. It wasn’t hard enough to really hurt (physically, at least), but it reminded him uncomfortably of Hedwig. Harry pushed any thoughts of his former familiar to the back of his mind and reluctantly retrieved the letter. 

“There, mission accomplished. Now go away!”

Another nip followed, this one to Harry’s nose. The brunet flinched slightly, but resolutely continued glaring at the owl, completely ignoring Kurita’s excited questions and Musashi’s bemused expression. Youichi was surprisingly silent, which probably should’ve been a warning sign. In the end, Harry gritted his teeth and unrolled the scroll. He’d never admit to being outglared by a bird, though. 

Upon recognising the hand writing, Harry almost dropped the letter. The brunet swallowed, but the lump in his throat stubbornly remained.

Dear Harry,

I hope you’re doing as well as can be expected in your current situation. Don’t worry, we’ve made sure that nobody can use this letter to find your whereabouts and they still can’t trace you if they’re not sure where your exact position ist. You’re still safe. Hopefully you’ll be even safer soon. Dumbledore has a possible solution to our problem and part of the Order is tasked with implementing it. Things aren’t looking good at the moment, but I’m positive we’ll get through it. And then, Harry, I will fulfill my promise to you. I will find a way to help you. 

Love,

Hermione

Only when the first few drops had smudged part of the ink, did Harry notice that he was the one responsible for it. The brunet raised his hand, his fingertips touching his wet cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. It must’ve been at least a year ago, if not more.

Hands on his shoulders made him flinch and reminded him that he wasn’t alone. He was standing with his back to his teammates, but Harry was still mortified of his reaction. He tried to squirm free of the hold, but the grip on his shoulders only tightened and steered him off the field.

“Continue your training fucking fatty, fucking old-man! We’ll be back soon.”

Great, it had to be Youichi of all people. It was probably the worst option. Harry still wouldn’t let himself get blackmailed into anything, but that didn’t mean he wanted to let the blond (or anyone) see him like this.

They stopped behind a copse of trees and only then did Youichi let go of him. Harry still refused to turn around. His whole body had tensed up in preparation to the blond’s next words. 

“Take a minute to calm down, fucking green-eyes.”

Harry blinked. That was nowhere close to what he had expected. Had his arsehole of a teammate really only brought him to this secluded spot in order to give Harry the chance to get a grip on himself without prying eyes judging him? 

Wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, the brunet slowly turned around. The other teen had backed off a bit to give him space and was staring at the owl that had hopped onto Harry’s head, when Youichi had grabbed him. He looked uncomfortable, probably not used to doing something nice without a cover up. The lack of questions was weird just as it had been in regards to his scars. Youichi didn’t look at all surprised that Harry had reacted in this way. 

A gasp escaped him, when an epiphany washed over him like icy water. The Japanese magical population wasn’t overly interested in the happenings of Europe, but what if the blond had stumbled over information about the Boy-Who-Lived (or whatever moniker the public was using for him nowadays)?

Harry side-eyed the teen, who hadn’t treated him any differently so far and opened his mouth to ask, but the words refused to leave his lips. It didn’t come as a surprise. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the truth. ‘Ignorance is bliss’ and all that. 

Maybe one day Youichi would reveal that he knew, maybe Harry would even ask him. Today wasn’t that day, though.

“Thanks, Youichi.”

Chapter Text

“ The journey of life is sweeter when traveled with a dog. ” by Bridget Willoughby

Harry and Youichi were in the middle of working on their passing routes, when the brunet noticed movement in his peripheral vision. He caught the football Youichi had just thrown at him without problem, before he turned his head to the side, just in time to see a small, rugged-looking dog bite into one of their water bottles. The plastic broke, giving the dog an impromptu shower. Youichi’s attention had also been directed to the dog and the smirk on his lips did not bode well for the animal.

“For a stray mutt, you’ve got a pretty good sparkle in your eyes.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but said nothing as the two faced off like in a low-budget western. Instead of a gun as the brunet had half-expected, Youichi pulled out a spiked dog collar ( why did he have one in the first place?) and twirled it around his index finger.

Their show-down started with a signal only the two of them could hear and was over within seconds. Harry facepalmed while the two contestants smugly eyed their accomplishments, although Youichi was the clear winner. The collar was snug around the dog’s neck, whereas the animal had only managed to cut a little into the blond’s jersey.

Youichi stepped closer to the dog, still smirking.

“I like you. From today on, you’ll be Cerberus!”

Harry snorted, then broke out into laughter (and if it was the slightest bit hysterical, then nobody could blame him). This situation was just too ridiculous to keep calm.

When he’d calmed back down, Youichi and his new hell pet were staring at him with the same unimpressed expression on their faces. Those two were made for each other. The brunet wasn’t even surprised that Youichi had chosen to name the dog after the hellhounds of the greek mythologie. 

Cerberus came over and started to sniff him with a suspicious glare. Being confronted with several big, dangerous dogs (one of them a real cerberus) had done a lot to elevate the dog phobia of his youth, so the brunet wasn’t particularly scared of the canine in front of him, even though he was sure it could do a lot of damage.

“You’re smelling Padfoot, huh?”

“Who’s Padfoot?” Youichi asked, who took advantage of the unplanned break by rehydrate himself with one of the remaining water bottles. 

“That’s…” Harry bit his bottom lip, unsure whether or not to tell the blond the truth. Well, it wasn’t like Youichi could do anything bad with the information. Sirius had gotten a trial, when they’d come to Japan and he’d been cleared. He was also registered.

“Sirius, my godfather. He’s an Animagus, who can turn into a dog.” To be honest, it was still a bit weird to ‘go walkies’ with the person who was supposed to be his guardian.

Youichi slowly lowered the bottle and stared at him in disbelief.

“Wait, is he the big, black mutt I sometimes see around the neighbourhood?”

Harry shrugged.

“Probably. He likes to run around outside to get rid of excess energy.”

“And-” The blond cackled. “- his name is Sirius, the Dog Star , Black?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. That’s the least of my problems, though. You wouldn’t believe how often he pulls the ‘No, I’m Sirius’ pun. It stopped being funny years ago.”

Youichi did, indeed, laugh, hysterically enough to sink down and pound his fist against the ground. Harry left him to it and instead concentrated on Cerberus again. 

“You’re probably hungry, huh? I think, I still have some leftovers from lunch.”

The dog perked up and did something that would’ve been a doggy smile on a cuter individual, but just looked terrifying on Cerberus. The brunet decided to ignore it and went to the bench, where he’d left his school and sports bag. He pulled a sandwich out of the former, then glared at the dog and pulled back his arm, when it looked like the canine would chomp off Harry’s whole hand instead of only taking the food. 

Cerberus grumbled, but took the sandwich more carefully and gobbled it down within the blink of an eye. Afterwards he eyed Harry expectantly. 

“If you want seconds, go bug the bloke over there.” The brunet nodded towards Youichi, who’d stopped laughing at last, but was still sitting on the ground and watching them with a hard to place twinkle in his eyes. “He’s going to be your new food provider.” 

Harry wondered if the blond would have to bribe and threaten even more people for Cerberus to be allowed into the hotel. He doubted it would be a big problem either way, because Youichi’s threat notebook had only grown during the last few months. 

Once or twice Harry had been present when one of the other teen’s minions (slaves?) had reported to him, but as long as Youichi didn’t use the information on someone who didn’t deserve it or went too far, the brunet  honestly didn’t care.

Chapter Text

“ We are here to help one another along life's journey. ” by William Bennett

Youichi had a déjà-vu. 

Once again he was standing in front of a certain small one-family home and ringing the bell. A dog was barking, before the blond heard footsteps approaching the door. Only this time he knew the bark belonged to Sirius Black and couldn't help cackling to himself. 

The door opened and Black eyed him with surprise.

"Hello…" The man tilted his head to the side in a suspiciously canine way and Youichi snorted. "Harry isn't at home."

“I know.” The blond popped his gum and slipped around the older man into the house. “That’s the point.”

Youichi took a look around and headed towards the living room, where he set the bag he’d brought along down on the coffee table. Black followed him with a frown.

“And what’s the reason to invade my home, when it’s not to visiting my godson, you little punk?”

“This.” The blond pulled a book out of the bag and slid it towards the wizard. The relevant page was marked with a post-it note. Black settled down on the couch, all the while side-eying him, and opened the book. A short scan of the information later, the man returned his attention back to Youichi.

“You know? Did Harry tell you?” He sounded stumped and disbelieving, which wasn’t a surprise.

“As if the fu- Harry would tell me.” If the brunet had a good day, he’d participate in some small talk and bickering. Fucking green-eyes still refused to spend any time outside of training with the rest of the Devil Bats and convincing him to go to a high school was still a work in progress. Still, Youichi was sure he had made some progress.

“I saw an issue of The Prophet that featured the Boy-Who-Lived. I found additional information and added my own observations to it. I’m probably still missing some, but I know enough for now. So, do you think it’d work, old man?”

Said old man glared half-heartedly at him, but didn’t say anything.

“No. We found the same ritual and tried it out, but it doesn’t fit Harry’s situation. The ritual was invented to increase the amount of their magic Squibs can access. They have a magical core, but it’s blocked off, so they can barely use it. Even for that, the ritual barely works. Harry’s magical core, instead, is basically burnt up and heavily damaged. He’s closer to a muggle than a Squib right now. Why do you want to help him anyway? Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but it seems odd to me that you’d go out of your way this much for a team mate.”

Youichi shrugged. To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure himself. After he’d found out that Potter was basically a celebrity back in the magical part of Britain, he’d spent the next few hours looking for more information. It had been very satisfying to finally solve some of the mysteries surrounding the other teen, but what had shocked even him to the core was what had happened to the brunet. Potter’s demeanor and outlook made a lot more sense now. 

The brunet had been kidnapped by a fanatic follower of his nemesis ‘You-Know-Who’ (those fucking Brits sure loved their hyphenations) at the beginning of his fourth year at a magical school named Hogwarts. He obviously had escaped somehow, but hadn’t re-appeared in public. The scars Youichi had seen pointed to torture and Potter’s meltdown during the first of their full day study sessions had pretty much revealed that he’d also lost his magic. Why Black (still a convict in the UK) had decided to chose Japan of all countries to lay low, he wasn’t sure, but getting out of that clusterfuck had probably been a good idea all things considered. 

He still wasn’t sure what to think of the whole shit Potter had been through (or rather, the few details he knew about it), except for fucking gruesome . He’d decided and mostly managed to treat Potter the same way as before, at least. Youichi was pretty sure the brunet would’ve reacted being treated with kid gloves in a less than favourable way. Chances were high he would’ve quit the Devil Bats at once and never talked to him again. 

In the end, Youichi’s reason was a mix of several smaller reasons. He felt sorry for the other teen, but also had the urge to make him a bit happier. Smiles, smirks and laughter fit Potter a lot better than shrouded in misery. The brunet had also opened a door for him to explore a whole new world and the slightest possibility to one day meet his mother. To this day his old man refused to talk about her… at least he had the last time Youichi had been willing to have a conversation with the man.

In the end he couldn’t give Black a clear-cut motive, but after the older man had studied him for a while and uttered a sigh, he got up and disappeared from the room. A few minutes later, he returned with a thick folder and dropped it onto the coffee table like Youichi had done not even twenty minutes earlier.

“Fine, you want to help. I really don’t care what your reason is, as long as we find a solution. These are the notes we’ve made so far.  References to books we’ve checked, thinks we’ve tried and had to scrap and a lot of other stuff.” 

“Who’s we?” Youichi asked, while he flipped through the notes. There were a shit-ton of them and the blond spotted at least three different handwritings.

“A friend of mine, Harry’s best friend and me. We spent a lot of time just after Harry-” Black shut his eyes, his hands clenched into fists. “When we were still in England. Now it’s difficult to give each other updates. Someone could trace our letters and that’s something we can’t afford at the moment. Magical object meant for corresponding don’t have that range.”

“Did you try calling or writing an E-Mail?”

“What?”

“I think it was an easy enough question. Did you or did you not?” Youichi raised an eyebrow, already sure that the reply would be a negative one.  Wizards, seriously...

Slowly Black’s face morphed into an expression of surprise, then excitement.

“I’m really starting to like you, kid.”

Chapter Text

"Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter."  by Izaak Walton

Bored out of his mind, Harry checked the clock for the nth time in what had to be ten minutes. The current lesson he was subjected to was English and as usual his ears were metaphorically bleeding all over the place just listening to his mangled mother tongue. The only exception was Youichi. SInce starting the new school year, they were in the same class.

Harry's motivation for school now wasn’t much higher than back when he’d first met the blond, but during the last half a year or so the other teen had somehow stuffed enough Japanese into his head that surpassing Kurita academically had easily happened on its own. 

The biggest mystery, however,  was Harry’s newfound popularity. He didn’t talk to his classmates, he never smiled and was pretty much the epitome of moodiness. Why, then, had his classmates developed the need to greet him every morning and what the hell was up with the dozen or so chocolates he’d received from blushing girls during Valentine's day last month? 

Harry had decided to ignore these changes as hard as he possibly could.

He wished he could do the same with Sirius' suspiciously good mood since the beginning of the week. His godfather had been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (literally) for a while, but the constant beaming, the whistling and random hugs were beginning to creep him out.

At last the lession was over and Harry was thanking all the Gods that it had been the last one for the day. Next was their daily afternoon training in preparation for the Spring tournament,which would be starting in a week's time. Harry already knew they wouldn't go far. They weren't bad, but even good players were hard pressed to win a game, when there were only four regulars and a bunch of fill-ins from other sport clubs. 

Harry threw his stuff into his bag and headed out of the classroom without waiting for Youichi. He still wasn't okay with changing in front of his team mates and always did so in an empty classroom. 

Training was hard as usual, but Harry welcomed the mind-numbing haze drills offered him. He'd cut his 30-yard time by 0,2 seconds since joining the football team and he couldn't help the slight trickling of pride that came close to the feeling of catching a Snitch. 

"Harry."

To be honest, he didn't miss Quidditch that much. The best part had always been the flying and the freedom he'd felt as he was soaring through the sky. Flying was one of the things he was missing most. 

"Harry!"

Another one was Hermione, who'd always been on his side, even after Everything. It wasn't like Ron had done anything bad, he just… he hadn't done anything. The redhead had visited him once. After. Harry had raged and there had been an epic meltdown and… he couldn't quite remember the details, but it hadn't been pretty. After that, Ron had never returned and then Harry had been in another country and magical communication was forbidden. Maybe… maybe he-

"Harry James Potter, stop ignoring me or so help me, you will regret it!"

Harry stopped his ladder drill, finally paying attention to the voice he'd thought a figment of his imagination. It happened from time to time, which made turning around harder than a lot of things he'd done in a while. Harry didn't know what he'd do, if his mind was playing tricks on him, after all. 

A gasp slipped past his lips, when his gaze zeroed in on the person standing a few feet in front of him. Hermione had changed a bit since she'd last seen her, not only in looks, although she did look older and now sported a scar on her cheek. Her body language screamed confidence, the dark glimmer in her eyes spoke of the horrors she’d seen. Her smile, however, was just as he remembered it. 

"Hermione?" Harry's voice was faint with disbelief, but his feet led him to her almost without his say so. When his hesitantly touching fingers found warm skin instead of going through the possible hallucination, he threw his arms around his best friend. The face full of frizzy hair was so familiar, his eyes started to tear up. Hermione reciprocated the hug enthusiastic enough that squeezing the stuffing out of him seemed like a possible objective. Harry didn't mind at all. 

After a long while, they both stepped back and tried to dry their eyes as inconspicuously as possible.

"Hermione, what- what are you doing here? Is-"

"It's still not safe, but…” She smiled and Harry wasn’t quite sure if he was breathing. He did feel kind of light-headed. “It’s done . I'll tell you more about it later." Hermione nodded towards Harry's team mates, who were staring at them - Musashi and Kurita with various levels of shock and Youichi with a blank impression, Harry didn't feel like deciphering. Mostly because he didn't know what to think or feel at that moment.

Relief, of course, curiosity probably, too. A part of him didn't want to think of Voldemorts (or anything connected to him) ever again. There was also the voice whispering in the back of his mind that it didn't matter if the UK was ever safe again, because either way his life would never go back to how it had been.

Harry shook his head to forcefully dislodge these thoughts and push them back for later musing.

"Uh, this is Hermione, my best friend," Harry started to introduce in Japanese, something which he wouldn't have bothered with even a few months ago, both the Japanese and the introduction in general. Then he turned towards his friend and went on in English "Mione these are my teammates Ken Takekura, Ryokan Kurita and Tinkerbell." 

That earned him a weird and disapproving look from the witch (though he saw the slightest twitch in the corner of her lips), but he only shrugged in response. To be honest, the name slipped off his tongue almost automatically by now. He'd called Youichi by his real name perhaps half a dozen times since knowing him. The blond had only himself to blame considering he'd still not stopped calling him 'fucking green-eyes'. The other teen had also long since stopped getting annoyed or tried to dissuade Harry from likening him to a Disney fairy. 

Kurita started to ramble in something that was barely discernible, but was probably supposed to be English, when Hermione directed a reassuring smile at him.

"It's alright, I know Japanese."

And when the hell had that happened? Knowing Hermione, it was quite possible that she hadn't even used magic to help her along and had, instead, gone the classical route. 

Musashi nodded at Hermione in greeting, but the most curious reaction was Youichi, mostly because there hadn't been one . No rude form of address, no complaints that she'd crashed their practice. Since her arrival, the blond hadn't discarded his blank expression or the intense stare. 

Quite curious indeed.

Chapter Text

“ Hope is the only thing stronger than fear ” - Suzanne Collins

Harry’s mind was still blown and it had only gotten worse after returning home after training was over. Not only was Hermione (his best friend, who he hadn’t seen in ages) sitting right in front of him, she wasn’t even the only new house guest. Hermione had been accompanied by Remus, who was currently catching up with Sirius in the sitting room.

Harry didn’t know the man too well. He had, of course, spent some time with him in third year, when Remus had been teaching him the Patronus charm during private lessons. That didn’t mean his former teacher had felt it necessary to share any personal matters with him, though, like being best friends with Harry’s father . Then fourth year had happened and Harry ‘s will to talk to anybody had shriveled up like a prune.

“So, what happened to Voldemort?” Harry was still reluctant to talk about the monster that had destroyed his life, but he knew he needed closure. Maybe then he’d finally be able to move on? Then again closure wouldn’t help with his problem...

“Voldemort, he…” Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip, something she’d only done while trying to figure stuff out. Nowadays it was apparently also reserved for imparting difficult information. “He split his soul and put the pieces into objects. They’re called Horcuxes and that’s what made him immortal. It took some time to find them, but now they’re all destroyed. The diary you pierced with the basilisk fang in second year was actually one, too. After we restored his mortality, Professor Dumbledore killed him in a fight. There was a… There was a big battle. Professor Dumbledore was hit by a stray curse after killing Voldemort. He… he didn’t make it. And- there were other- More people died…” 

Harry reached out and gripped Hermione’s shaking hands with his own, which weren’t any steadier. He should’ve been there and helped them. Why did he have to be so useless?

Hermione took a deep breath to regain her composure and after a minute or two resumed her recounting.

“Numerous Death Eaters were captured and have already stood trial, but some are still on the loose. Unfortunately there are a few inner circle members among them and they still initiate attacks. That is the reason why it is still not safe for you to return, yet.”

“Wait-” Harry flinched, as he remembered something vital he’d rather forget forever.  “He- I remember him mentioning that I’m a Horcrux. So I- I still have a soul piece of him inside of me? Can he still come back?”

“No Harry.” This time it was Hermione who folded Harry’s hands in a reassuring grip of her own.  “Professor Dumbledore suspected that you were one, too, but whatever Voldemort did to you, got rid of it. There is no way for him to come back.”

“When he kidnapped and tortured me in fourth year, you mean,” Harry whispered, already feeling bile creep up and- Harry jumped up and dashed to the bathroom just in time to lose whatever he still had in his stomach to the toilet.

In this moment, Hermione’s words or that he was supposedly  safe, barely mattered. He still remembered how Barty Crouch Jr., disguised as Mad Eye Moody and his teacher at the time, had asked him to stay behind after a lesson. He remembered how the man had overpowered and tossed him into a trunk with the real Moody. The time spent in captivity as Voldemort’s training dummy would forever be etched into his memories.

One day, Harry still didn’t know the catalyst, Voldemort had found out about the piece of soul he had accidentally left behind in Harry. From that day onwards, the monster’s actions towards him had changed, but not for the better. Harry had been forced to drink a variety of foul potions, when Voldemort hadn’t been busy with subjecting him to countless spells, one more painful than the next.

Finally there had been that ritual. He had never felt as agonizing pain as in that moment, but the worst had happened later, when the pain disappeared, taking his magic with it. Harry would’ve preferred death to the emptiness inside of him. 

That, Harry mused with his temple resting against the cool toilet bowl,  was probably the day Voldemort had got the Horcrux out of him.

“Oh Harry, I’m so sorry,” Hermione, who must have followed him, mumbled into his shoulder, after kneeling down next to him and wrapping her arms around Harry’s shoulders. 

In retrospect, Harry didn’t quite get the closure he’d hoped for.

Weeks later, someone rings the doorbell, when Harry’s in the kitchen. Sirius and Remus have gone out somewhere, so Harry’s only decisions were opening the door himself or silently waiting for the person to go away. Hermione, for whatever reason, had this weird notion of not wanting to open the door herself, because this wasn’t her home. Only now she was giving him these impatient looks .

“Well Harry, aren’t you going to see who’s here?”

Shooting her suspicious glances, he dropped the knife he’d used to prepare their lunch, on the worktop and wiped his hands on a towel. By the time he’d reached the door, the person on the other side had decided to become a nuisance by continuously pressing their finger against the doorbell. Harry was tempted to ignore the visitor after all, but with an annoyed frown he finally put them all out of their misery. 

He hadn’t expected Youichi.

“What are you doing here? There was no training today, right?” Harry asked, his frown deepening.

Youichi popped a gum bubble and smirked.

“No fucking green-eyes, that’s not why I’m here.”

“You’re almost twenty minutes late,” Hermione’s annoyed voice sounded from behind Harry, almost frying the brunet’s brain with that statement.

“Relax, fucking nag, it’s not like it’s the end of the world,” was Youichi’s reply, accompanied by an eye-roll.

“What,” Harry didn’t have a good enough grasp on reality right now, not to mention the situation, to bother with inflection. “Why the fuck did you two arrange a time to meet?”

“Language Harry. You shouldn’t be influenced by his foul mouth,” Hermione reprimanded, which Harry only reacted to with an unimpressed glare. In the end, Hermione sighed. “We’ve been in contact for the last few months. By phone. And we met up several times in the last few weeks.”

Harry had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to be feeling right now, except for the obvious confusion. Betrayed that his team mate had been able to contact Harry’s best friend, when Harry hadn’t been able to? Morbidly curious how their characters must have clashed? Kind of… weirdly jealous?

“Why?” He finally asked, his voice almost void of any emotion.

“To fix your fucking problem, fucking green-eyes. It’s time that you finally stop moping around all the time,” Youichi explained, shoving past an almost rigid Harry and into the house.

“My prob- what?” Harry asked, feeling like a broken record and decidedly stupid for it. Youichi didn’t mean his magic, did he? Harry had already assumed that the other teen had learnt more about Harry’s past than he wanted him to know, but this?

“Harry,” Hermione wrapped her hand around Harry’s and gently tugged him into the direction of the sitting room. He idly wondered if Sirius and Remus going out was connected to this. Hermione pushed him into the couch and sat next to him, not letting go of his hand. Harry was grateful for the anchor.

“As I said, Youichi contacted me a few months ago, or rather my parents, who passed the first message on. Sirius had given him the file about all the research we’d already done to fix your magic core. He did some research on his own and found new material. It was promising, but I couldn’t help much, because of you-know-what. We’ve worked on it a lot in the last few weeks and we all think it’ll work. But Harry-” Hermione’s gaze was solemn as she looked into his eyes. “This won’t completely fix your core. The solution we’ve  found will basically make you a Squib, but instead of the latent magic coming from you, your body will get latent magic from around you and continuously feed your magic core. Think of it as recharging a battery, but only to a level that it’s just working. We’re not sure, yet, if we’re ever going to find a way to fix the problem completely, but you’ll at least be able to use potions and won’t be affected by Muggle repellent charms anymore and… And you’ll be able to fly again, Harry!”

Harry was gaping at both of them, utterly speechless. He wasn’t even sure what was shocking him more. That they’d found something to improve his situation or that Youichi had apparently decided to help him in the first place. He finally decided to focus on the latter of the two and turned his gaze to the blond.

“Why?” Harry asked, not quite able to put into words what he wanted to ask. The blond didn’t quite meet his eyes and if the lighting wasn’t playing tricks on him, the tips of Youichi’s ears had turned pink.

“I already told you, fucking green-eyes. I’m tired of your moping, so you better liven up when everything’s said and done!”

“I can’t promise anything, but… uh... I’ll try! Thank you both so much for even trying to find a way.” He offered both of them both the probably brightest smile he’d managed in ages, even if his eyes had a wet sheen to them.

 “So what do we have to do?”

As Hermione had said, it wasn’t going to be a complete fix, but if it really worked out, it was a silver lining.

Chapter Text

"All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware." - Martin Buber

“Do you have a minute?” 

Youichi turned towards Harry, who was already clad in that stupid-looking white robe he had to wear for the ritual. The other teen was nervously tugging on the white cloth, but his expression was the epitome of determination. The nervousness was no surprise at all, considering the success rate of the ritual was high but not at one hundred percent. Youichi didn’t even want to contemplate what a failure would do to Harry’s already shaky mental health. 

“What’s up, fucking green-eyes. Shouldn’t you prepare?” Youichi drawled, sounding quite a bit more nonchalant than he felt.

Harry grabbed his wrist and dragged him from the sitting room, where the ritual would take place, to the kitchen and closed the door behind them. Youichi, becoming intrigued, raised an inquiring eyebrow. 

“What’s-”

“ I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, because I don’t know how the ritual will turn out and-” Harry started. The grip around Youichi’s wrist was becoming painfully tight, but the blond couldn’t quite bring himself to protest or tug it out from between Harry’s fingers. “Anyway! I’m really grateful to you, Youichi. Not just for this ritual, also for everything else. You’re an annoying bastard and half the time I feel like strangling you, but if you hadn’t started bothering me with this whole football thing… You never gave up on me, no matter how much I was, in your words, moping around. Thanks to you I was already feeling a bit better even without this ritual and-” 

Youichi watched, mesmerized, as Harry’s cheeks quickly turned an alarming shade of red, even as he felt his own face heat up. What was fucking green-eyes even saying? Where were these fucking heartfelt words coming from? And had they stood this close to each other the whole fucking time? Youichi honestly wasn’t sure.

“And I’d really like to- I mean- i-if you want to too-”

Before his mind had the chance to catch up with his body, Youichi was already leaning forward to stop Harry’s rambling with his mouth. Unfortunately (or not), he never reached his goal. 

“Harry, we are ready to- Oh. Oh. Uh, sorry. Take your time!”

As quickly as she had barged in, Hermione - fucking nag - Granger had disappeared again, leaving behind silence and awkwardness.

“Right,” Harry mumbled after a long moment. Youichi bet the other teen was still blushing, but looking at Harry’s face was the last thing he wanted to do right now. “I, uh, I should go back. Pull off that whole ritual and stuff. We’ll, uhm- bye!”

And with these words, Harry was gone too and Youichi turned around, to bang his head against the wall.

Harry was still on cloud nine, the next time he went to school. The previous day he’d spent three full hours on his broom (which Sirius had apparently held onto for him) and it had been even better than Harry remembered. He was aware that things weren’t suddenly puppies and sunshine and that days, when he’d feel like crap, were lurking at the horizon, but right then, he felt great. So great, in fact, that his schoolmates were staring at him, like the world was ending. In their defense, they only knew him as the moody, taciturn foreigner, who was team mates with the school’s very own devil.

And speaking of the devil. Harry still felt his face heat up, when he thought about their... moment in the kitchen. The plan had been to tell Youichi how much Harry appreciated everything the blond had done for him. He had wanted to do it before the ritual took place in case it didn’t work and Harry was even worse off (feeling wise) than before. The almost kiss hadn’t been planned or even expected, but he’d been thinking a lot about it afterwards. It was something he wanted to explore.

Youichi had disappeared as soon as the ritual was over and the success assured. The blond had been struggling with his own feelings, too, Harry figured. He barely knew what was going on in that devilish brain on a good day, but to Harry it had looked like Youichi hadn’t been averse to the possible kiss. Maybe that was wishful thinking on his part, though... Either way, Harry had been interrogated by Hermione and, later on, teased.

Now it was his turn to do some interrogating, which was harder to accomplish than expected. Morning training had been cancelled, because Youichi allegedly had something important to do. Then the blond had appeared just in time for class, only for him to vanish again at lunch time.

Harry rolled his eyes. 

It was obvious that Youichi was avoiding him. Fortunately, by now he knew the blond’s usual haunts. A few minutes later, Harry opened the door to the rooftop. As expected, it was devoid of people, but he wasn’t deterred by that. Instead, Harry climbed the ladder to the highest point of the building and found the blond devil, idly flipping through one of his threat notebooks.

“Are you jumping off the rooftop with a parachute next to avoid me?” Harry mocked softly, even as he slid to the floor next to Youichi. The blond snorted.

“I don’t know, what you’re talking about, fucking green-eyes,” Youichi said, but didn’t look up from the page of- Harry squinted to make out the cramped notes on it. Something about a love affair with a toaster? Actually, Harry didn’t want to know.

“Sure,” Harry said, his voice dripping with disbelief. “What are you doing here all by your lonesome, then? Normally you meet up with your minions to get more intel or annoy me into eating lunch with you.”

“I just had to sort some shit out and then I decided to come here to get some peace and quiet. Didn’t work out that way apparently.”

Harry turned his gaze to the sky. The weather was nice, perfect for a nap in the warm spring sun.

“Hey, Tink. If this is about the thing that almost happened before the ritual. Just forget about it, if it’s making you uncomfortable, okay?” It would be a real shame not to explore it further, but… “I’d rather you be your usual annoying self than you avoiding me. Like I said before, you’ve managed to bully your way into becoming my friend and it would suck if that stopped now.”

There was a long moment of silence and Harry almost thought Youichi would keep silent, but then-

“I suck at mushy feelings,” Youichi admitted, which didn’t come as a surprise to Harry at all. Usually, even when the blond was doing something nice, he either added an insult to it or sneaked the good deed in without anyone being the wiser.

“It may come to you as a surprise, but I haven’t exactly been a ray of sunshine,” Harry said, which made Youichi snort, but finally look at him. “And I doubt I will be again any time soon. Things are a bit better, but that doesn’t mean I’m suddenly fixed.”

“Will you go back to Britain now?” Youichi asked instead of commenting on Harry’s mental health. 

“Is this what you’ve been worrying about?” Harry wondered, raising an eyebrow. Youichi shrugged, but that may as well be agreement.

“I won’t, not yet anyway. Maybe never. There’s not much for me back in the UK except for Hermione and now that Remus lives here, Sirius is of the same mind, I think. He’s free over here, while people still think of him as an escaped convict back in Britain. Also-” Harry knocked his shoulder against Youichi’s “I still have to go to high school over here, right? Wasn’t there also talk about winning the Christmas Bo-?”

Harry needed a moment to work out why he couldn’t speak anymore, but then realised it was due to the pair of lips on his own. Harry tried to kiss back, but the smile tugging on the corners of his mouth made it difficult. It was the thought that counted, right?

“You bet we will win the Christmal Bowl, fucking boyfriend, Ya-Ha!”

“I have a surprise for you, Tink,” Harry announced on the day of their middle school graduation. The official stuff was already over and done with. They were on their way to the school yard, which was probably already full of students taking a few last pictures with their friends or with their diploma.

“What’s the surprise?” Youichi asked suspiciously, but didn’t protest, when his boyfriend grabbed him by the wrist and navigated them through the mass of people.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” was Harry’s reply, accompanied by an eye-roll. “But I’ll give you a hint. I want you to meet someone.”

And who Harry wanted him to meet became clear, even before they’d reached their destination. Youichi saw them between the groups of laughing and crying students and stopped in his tracks. He didn’t know if he wanted to run up to them or flee in the other direction. Harry shifted his grip and intertwined their fingers instead, before giving Youichi’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” Harry said softly and pulled him the last few feet to the two people waiting for them.

The man was quite a bit taller than he was, maybe bordering on 6,5 feet. His long, white hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, making his pointed ears stand out. Youichi also noticed the tips of pointy fangs behind his nervous smile. The woman was small in comparison, but still taller than the average Japanese woman. Her black hair was in a pixie cut and there were weird, black markings on the corners of her eyes. Both of their eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

“Youichi, these are your grandparents Kiyo and Akachi,” Harry introduced, after they’d stopped in front of them. “Your grandparents.”

“What the fuck? How?” Youichi wondered out loud, confused and still staring at the two people in front of him, who didn’t look older than maybe thirty. He’d done a lot of research in hopes of finding his mother. Every clue had led to a dead-end. 

“With a lot of frustration and luck,” was Harry’s amused reply, before he pushed him right in front of his grandparent.

The man (Akachi?) let his gaze rove over Youichi’s face.

“You look a lot like your mother.”

“What happened to her?” Youichi asked, frowning. Why wasn’t she here, too? His heart dropped to his stomach, when their expression turned from bittersweet awe to grief and regret.

“Your mother… she ran away, when we insisted on an arranged marriage. Later,  when you were already born, the man who she was supposed to marry must’ve found her. We don’t know what happened in detail, but they were both found dead. There were signs of fight. We didn’t know about you until Harry found and contacted us, otherwise we would have visited you a long time ago,” Kiyo explained, tears running down her cheeks, Akachi looked just as upset.

Youichi was quickly getting sick of this emotional rollercoaster. On one hand he was furious and disgusted that his grandparents had indirectly caused the death of his mother, on the other hand he wouldn’t be alive had his mother not fled from the arranged marriage. He would never meet his mother, but he was standing right in front of the grandparents he had not known existed. To blame them now instead of getting to know them was like cutting off his nose to spite his face. 

Somehow, Harry had made this possible... Youichi wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and dropped a kiss onto his temple. He’d thank him more thoroughly later. Then he turned back to the pair in front of him.

“So, tell me more about her... and you.”

Chapter Text

"Every end is a new beginning" - Unknown

Why did this have to happen all over again and on the first day of high school no less? Sena had really hoped life after middle school would improve, that his days as a gopher were over. But no , of course those scary guys in his class had zeroed right in on him, like they knew he was easy prey.

Even worse, the stuff those guys had wanted was already sold out, by the time Sena got to the cafeteria, so he’d have to return with empty hands. He didn’t have to be a seer to know how this would end, but running away and hiding always led to a worse fate, so Sena didn’t even bother trying.

On second thought, Sena mused, when another kick connected with his back, maybe he should’ve tried after all. With a pained grunt, he closed his eyes in defeat, when one of the bullies said something about switching to real punishment.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” A new voice wanted to know. Sena couldn’t see who it belonged to, but it was music in his ears. Maybe he’d actually get away without further damage. For now at least.

“Hah?”

“Haah?”

“Haaah? Better run along, before you’re next!”

“Oh? Is this supposed to scare me? I’m shaking in my boots. Really, I am,” came the deadpan reply from the new guy. Sena was kind of in awe. This had to be a big, buff guy if he was willing to go up against three opponents (or someone like Mamori-neechan. She was pretty scary, too).

The bully, who’d kicked him, turned towards the new guy completely. Sena used that moment to take a look at the saint who had decided to help him. His eyes almost popped out. The teen was of average height, especially for a foreigner. It was hard to guess his built through the school uniform, but he didn’t seem all that buff either. There wasn’t a smidgen of worry on his face. The teen even went so far as to push his hands into his trouser pockets, when all three bullies ran at him. 

What followed was a work of art. The guy somehow managed to knock all three of his opponents out without one punch or real kick. He did it mostly by evading the attacks, making the guys trip and run into walls or each other. When they were lying on the floor, he took pictures of their faces with his phone and mumbled something like “Should send them to Tink,”, although it was in English, so Sena wasn’t quite sure.

Then the teen straightened up and focused his attention on Sena, who hoped he wasn’t getting beat up after all. The friendly smile on the foreigner’s face relaxed him a bit.

“Are you alright? Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

Sena quickly shook his head. His back hurt a bit, but unfortunately he was used to this and knew he could easily deal with the pain for now.

“No, I’m fine! Thank you for helping me.” He quickly got to his feet and bowed. “My name is Kobayakawa Sena. It’s nice to meet you!”

“You’re welcome and it’s nice to meet you, too. My name is Potter Harry, co-captain of the American football team.”

“Harry-senpai, can I ask you a question?”

Harry looked up from where he was tying his shoes. They’d finished training some time ago and he had worked on his new move a bit longer, making him the last one to shower and change. Except for the two of them, the locker room was empty. Even Youichi had disappeared some time ago, cackling and leafing through his threat notebook.  

“Sure, what can I help you with?”

“Uhm, this might be forward, but- but I don’t know who else to ask and I thought-'' The younger teen was staring at the floor and fidgeting, which honestly wasn’t too unusual for Sena. This could lead to anything, from asking for the time to how babies were made.

“It’s fine, really. Just ask your question,” Harry reassured, leaning back on the bench and watching as Sena’s face turned beet red. Maybe this was going to be interesting after all.

“How- How did you know you like Hiruma-senpai as more than a friend?” Sena asked, gaze still stubbornly directed at the floor and fiddling with his own fingers.

Oooh, this was good. And maybe he could finally settle the bet he had with Youichi. Sena was like American football player catnip, from what he’d observed during the last few months. At least one player of each team they’d faced was interested in their running back. 

So far neither Youichi nor he had found proof that Sena reciprocated any of their feelings. Harry had put his money on their reformed bully and now line man Jumonji Kazuki, while Youichi insisted on Shin from the White Knights. There were others, of course, but these two seemed to be the most likely candidates and the one’s Sena spent the most time with.

“Well, there was some stuff going on in my life back then and he helped me a lot with that. Then there was a… moment I guess, when we both noticed that it could be more than friendship and acted on it. Now we’ve been together for a few years. You think you like someone?”

“There may have been a love confession? And I may like them, too? But uh, not only them?” Sena admitted, sinking to the floor and hiding his tomato red head behind his hands.

This was awesome. Harry was so going to taunt Youichi later that he’d missed spying on this situation. And yes, Harry was fully aware of the fact that his boyfriend had somewhat rubbed off on him (in more than one way).

“Well, there is such a thing as polyamory, as in more than two people being in a relationship, but I’m afraid I can’t help you there for obvious reasons. Maybe you should talk to them about it. I’m sure there are also books about it and-”

“No! Harry-senpai has already helped me a lot! I’ll try talking to them, thank you very much for listening to me and giving me advice.” Sena bowed and dashed out of the changing room.

Only then did Harry notice that Sena had never specified that he was talking about two people. Could it be…?

Maybe Youichi and he had to adjust their bet.