Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three ❯ First Meeting Between Brothers ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter-the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing-the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: NC17

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes-the Gundam pilots-disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them-pilots 02, 03, and 05-reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world-especially one Harry Potter-will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 1: First Meeting Between Brothers

September 1, AC 197

"Well, mate, I'll see you in a bit," Ron Weasley said to his best friend, Harry, before leaving said friend to go to the prefect's car.

Harry knew that Ron-and Hermione, their other best friend-had to go to the prefect's car, at least for a little while. Harry knew that, as prefects, his friends had to check in with the Head Boy and Girl and get their instructions. He also knew that, as soon as they could, Ron and Hermione would come find Harry. But he couldn't help resenting that he would not only have to find an empty car-so that no one would interrupt the three of them when Ron and Hermione finally showed up-but that he'd also have to be alone until they got there.

Harry hated being alone. He thought that, maybe, it had something to do with the fact that bad things usually happened to him when he was alone. He grew up alone, in a cupboard under the stairs in his aunt and uncle's house. Hagrid showed up to rescue him when he was eleven. He wasn't alone then.

Harry faced an evil Professor Quirrel with a dead Voldemort attached to his head alone in his first year at Hogwarts. Sure, Ron and Hermione had been with him right up until the beginning of the end, but when push came to shove and the gloves were coming off and the fat lady was just about to sing, Harry had to leave his friends behind and fight Quirrel alone.

Harry was alone when he faced the diary of Tom Riddle in second year. Hermione was in the infirmary, and Ron had to watch Lockehart, and Ginny was unconscious, and Fawkes was there to help him and save him, but birds don't count, and Harry was alone.

Harry wasn't alone in third year when he faced the "murderer" Sirius Black. His friends were there with him, and Ron was willing to die for him, and even though it wasn't necessary-Sirius was a good man who would never hurt Harry because he was his godfather and loved him very much-Harry still appreciated it and remembered what it felt like not to be alone.

Harry wasn't alone in fourth year, either-though he sometimes wished he had been-when Harry faced Voldemort live and in the flesh for the first time. Cedric Diggory was with him, but then he died, was killed, was murdered, and Harry was alone again. He was alone when his wand met with Voldemort's. And then he wasn't. His mum was there, and he was sort of happy because of that and sort of sad because it wasn't really her, but that didn't matter anyway because someone was there and he wasn't alone anymore.

In fifth year, Harry wasn't alone when it happened. He was surrounded by people as Sirius Black-his godfather, his supposed-to-be guardian, the link to his parents who'd spent so much time fighting, just like Harry, not to be alone-fell into the veil and disappeared. That was one time Harry remembered when it would have been better for him to be alone. If he'd been alone, Sirius wouldn't have been there. If Sirius wasn't there, he wouldn't have fallen beneath the veil. Harry wished that he had been alone then.

Harry was alone when, in sixth year, Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban and came after him. Harry was alone when Malfoy caught him and tried to take him to Lord Voldemort. Harry was alone when he bashed Malfoy's head in with a rock-being a pureblood, Malfoy never thought to protect against that. And when he dragged the stinking, rotting corpse into Hogsmeade, Harry was alone.

So, seeing the problems Harry had with being alone, it was no wonder, really, that he felt abandoned and lonely when Ron and Hermione left him to go to the prefect's car, even if he couldn't really fault them for going. After all, they had a job to do, and it wasn't to make him feel more comfortable. What Harry could do, however, was find a car with some of his other friends on it and hope that he didn't intrude too terribly much.

So that's what he did. It took him fifteen cars, thirteen friends, twelve acquaintances, and three snogging couples, but Harry finally found a car of people that he liked who liked him back that he wouldn't feel uneasy around if they all just sat there and stared into space. Which was really what he felt like doing.

Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Two weirder people Harry had never met (well, actually, Neville was kind of normal, but Luna took up enough weird on the weird-o-meter that all the weird hunters flocked to Hogwarts to bask in her weirdness), but they were good people. Other than Ron and Hermione, they were his best friends.

"Hey," Harry said as he settled beside Neville. He flushed a bit as he did because last year he had developed a bit of a crush on Neville. Not a big crush, not the "oh my god, he's looking at me, I think I'll die now" sort of crush, but more like the "I like his hands" sort or maybe even the "it's nice how he'll hug me when I have a nightmare" type. Neville was nice and caring and always friendly to Harry, even when Harry was in his meanest, snarliest, snarkiest, trash-the-room-blow-up-the-building-ain't-nobody-surviving-this rage.

Neville was great when it came to those type things, which made Harry wonder if Neville was good at other things, too. If they kissed, would it just be "wet"? Harry didn't think so. He thought that it would be timid at first. Neville wouldn't know what to do with his hands, so Harry would draw them around his waist, and Neville would just hold him. Harry's own hands would go into Neville's hair, free of any products, soft, black as coal, like Harry's own. Harry would pull Neville's head down and press his lips to Neville's. Harry would lick Neville's upper lip. That would be enough to free both of them from their shyness. From then on, it would be all tender passion, burning desire. Their hands would be all over each other, exploring, ripping the other's clothes off. Harry would wrap his legs around Neville's waist, and he'd just squeeze with his thighs, grinding against Neville. Neville would push him against a wall, maybe onto the floor instead. They'd-

"-Harry?" Neville said and put a hand on Harry's arm.

Harry shivered at the slight contact and turned to face Neville, their knees brushing in the process. "Sorry?" Harry said, his earlier blush deepening. He tried to think of a good lie to tell Neville as to why he hadn't been paying attention. He couldn't actually say that the reason was because he was fantasizing about a rampant snog session between the two of them. Harry settled on a half-truth. "I was kind of lost in thought and wasn't listening. Sorry."

Neville smiled, a crooked, endearingly sweet smile that Harry loved so much, and dropped his hand from Harry's arm. "S'okay," he said. "I know what that's like, sometimes. I was only asking you how your summer was. Nothing too terribly important."

Harry's already scarlet face deepened in hue at the thought of Neville wanting to know about his summer, of him caring enough to ask. Of course Neville cared. He and Harry were friends, and that's what friends did. It didn't mean anything else, no matter how much Harry might wish it did. Harry blushed brighter.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked. He reached up and touched Harry's cheek. "I only ask because, well, you're as bright as a tomato, and well, you're burning up."

"I'm all right," Harry squeaked-in his manliest voice, of course-as Neville moved his hand to Harry's forehead.

"You sure?" Neville said. "You're awfully hot."

Harry heard Luna snort from the other side of the car.

"Yeah," he said, pulling back from Neville's hand. He had completely forgotten that Luna was in the car, and as she knew about Harry's little-teeny, tiny, miniscule, microscopic-crush, he didn't want her to see him all twitterpated.

"How was your summer?" Harry asked Neville, trying to get the attention off himself. Harry didn't particularly want to talk of his summer, especially the part he spent with the Dursleys. It wasn't that it was bad-his relatives were on their best behavior since Mr. Weasley and the others gave Uncle Vernon a stern talking-to-it was just that it wasn't important anymore, now that he was going home to Hogwarts. Harry would much rather hear about Neville, who probably had a more interesting summer, anyway.

"Well," Neville said, only to have Luna interrupt him.

"Daddy took me to Romania," Luna said. "We met a pack of vampires. You should have seen them! They were nothing like the paper wants you to think. They weren't all about sucking blood and evil. They were some of the nicest people I've ever met. I think I'll get Daddy to take me back next summer."

Luna was just finishing her story on how the head vampire turned out to be vegetarian and sucked all the blood he needed from mandrakes-her father put it in The Quibbler, the magazine he owned-when the door burst open and two unknown boys fell in. One was blonde, the other brunette, both were short (at least, they looked short from where they were lying on the floor), and Harry had never seen either of them before. They were wearing Hogwart's robes, but anybody could buy those, if they wanted. Harry edged his wand into his hand and waited for them to get up.

The brunette did so first, scowling as he helped up his companion. "I told you there was someone in here," he said to the other in a low voice that Harry could barely hear.

"Yeah, well, I figured you would rather be in here with strangers than out there with not-so-strangers," the blonde said, also speaking in a low tone.

"You mean..." the brunette trailed off.

"Yes, I mean," the blonde said. "I saw him-with a capital H-I-M-out in the corridor. I felt the most sensible course of action would be to push you into an empty compartment until you could figure out what to say to him."

"Oh, obviously," the brunette said. He smoothed out his robes, picking imaginary lint from them. "One problem. This car isn't empty."

"Well, sorry for trying to be nice," the blonde said. Then, for the first time since he fell into Harry's car, seemed to remember that "not an empty car" meant that there were other people in it. "Oh, where are my manners?" He turned to Harry and his friends. "I'm Quatre Winner, and this charming devil is Heero Yuy. We're transfers."

***

Heero groaned-mentally, not aloud, as did one befitting his station-when Quatre explained the reasoning behind literally falling into the occupied car. Heero knew that He would be hear, had heard about Him transferring from Beauxbatons when Voldemort was pronounced alive by the Minister of Magic. Heero had heard and thought about what that might mean, and he had discussed it with Dorothy and Quatre until all three were blue in the face. Eventually, they decided to come to Hogwarts as planned. One most likely disgruntled ex-lover was not enough to throw away years of planning. Besides, Heero and Quatre's Second was here, and the only way to get him to trust them was by coming to his school. Preferably being Sorted into his House.

He knew that Duo Maxwell was going to be here. He even accepted that the two of them may have several classes together. But he was not yet ready to have Duo confront him on what he did. Heero guessed he should thank Quatre for getting him out of a situation he had not even realized he was in. But Quatre didn't have to push him so hard!

Heero rubbed his upper arm. He landed on it rather rough and knew that, by the Sorting, it was going to be a nasty bruise. It used to take a lot to injure Heero. Whether he jumped out of a building or self-destructed his Gundam, he would hardly have a scratch on him. At least, compared to the others around him, he'd be relatively uninjured. Now, Heero got hurt if he tried walking and talking at the same time. But, he would take a fragile body over no magic any day.

Quatre elbowed Heero, and he realized that the overweight kid was holding out his hand, waiting for Heero to shake it. Heero smiled at him in what he hoped was a self-deprecating way and took his hand, holding it firmly and giving three hard pumps, just as that bastard J taught him.

"Neville Longbottom," the other said, and Heero nodded his head. Quatre already introduced them, so Heero felt no obligation to repeat his own name. Heero shook the other persons' hands-"Harry Potter," obviously, and "Luna Lovegood."

After introductions were out of the way, Quatre asked if the others cared if he and Heero stayed in their car. The two of them could leave, if they wanted them to, but it was just that they didn't know anyone else, and all the other cars already had people in them. And they lost somebody, and Quatre was always told that if he lost someone, he should just wait until they found him. And he and Heero were sort of avoiding someone, so he'd rather not go back into the hall.

Quatre was just about to plead that all the dolphins and whales and little, pretty fish in the oceans would leap for joy, and the ozone layer would build itself back up, and all manner of nasty, rotten creatures-except for the good ones in each species, of course-would crawl under rocks and hide there until their dying days if only Quatre and Heero could stay in the car, when Harry stepped forward and said, "Okay."

So they sat down beside Luna, on the bench across from Harry and Neville. When they were settled, Heero leaned forward to whisper in Quatre's ear, "Laying it on a little thick, weren't you?"

Quatre huffed and turned pointedly to Heero. "This is a perfect opportunity," he said quietly in his best "you're so dumb, it's so obvious" voice. "We're in here, with our Second. We didn't plan this, so there's no additional deception involved. We didn't even have to come up with some half-assed, diabolical scheme.

"The only way it could be better is if the other two weren't in here. But, even with them here, we can charm our way into his heart, at least a little bit. He can get to know us a bit before the Sorting. It could prove to be a buffer, if we don't get into Gryffindor. And if we do, it could be a stepping stone into friendship

"Now, you put on your perkiest smile, act happy, and schmooze your way into our little lion's life."

Heero chuckled as Quatre asked what year and House the other three were in. Predictably, Harry said he was a seventh year Gryffindor. Heero hadlived in several private treatment facilities for the last twenty months and in a vigilante army base for most of his first fifteen years, but even he knew who Harry Potter was. Neville was in the same House and year as Harry. Surprisingly, Luna was a sixth year Ravenclaw.

"I thought there were big time House rivalries?" Heero asked before he could stop himself. Two years spent with Quatre-and a year before that with Duo-had considerably lowered Heero's tact, and his vocabulary.

"Well, there were House rivalries," Harry said, "but they were never between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. It's always been Gryffindor kicking the snot out of Slytherin, and Ravenclaw fighting with Hufflepuff. That's all gone now. At least, it's supposed to be. Professor Dumbledore-the Headmaster-abolished House points when he came back last year in a ploy to get us all to work together. There's not even a Quidditch cup anymore!

"I guess there's no point in it, anymore, really, what with Volde-sorry, Neville-You-Know-Who around. He doesn't care which House beats which, as long as he beats them all."

"I guess that makes sense," Quatre said, leaning forward. "Dumbledore must have that whole "Divided we're conquered, united we stand" philosophy going on. Would you tell me some more? I'd kind of like to know what I'm getting myself into by transferring here."

At that exact moment, just as Harry opened his mouth, the door to the car burst open once more. In strode a boy with the whitest blonde hair Heero had ever seen outside of a Veela family reunion. Behind him stood two hulking drones, Trowa Barton-he went to Hogwarts?-and Duo Maxwell. To make matters worse, behind him was someone Heero thought he would never have to see again: Daemon Rosencrantz.

"Shut your mouth, Potter," Blondie said, coming fully into the car, "you'll let the flies in."

Selune