Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three ❯ A Prophecy ( Chapter 6 )

[ 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 6: A Prophecy

It was two weeks into term-the second Friday-and Harry still had not checked out the new kids. He hadn't even told Ron and Hermione his suspicions! Which was funny, actually, as he didn't really have suspicions, per say, but really suspicions of suspicions. The thing was, though, Harry was just too busy to be overly concerned about Quatre and Heero.

It was his seventh and final year. He was going to take his N.E.W.T.s in approximately nine months. He had to study for those-Hermione was making sure he studied. Thirteen days into term, and she already had weekly study schedules drawn out for the Dream Team. There were pie charts and everything. On top of his regular classes, Harry had extra "tutoring" sessions on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights with Remus. He would have it more often, but Harry had Astronomy on Thursdays and Fridays, and he absolutely refused to have any type of class on Saturday or Sunday. Harry would also have Quidditch practice whenever the new captain decided. Hopefully, Ron would be sympathetic and not work the team to death. After all, it was his seventh year, too, and he also had a lot of things going on.

That was where Harry was going now-to Quidditch practice. Actually, he was going to the preliminary Quidditch tryouts. The Gryffindor team currently had only three members: Ginny Weasley as a Chaser, Ron as Keeper, and Harry as Seeker. Briefly, in fifth year, Harry was banned from Quidditch. Ginny was Seeker then. When he came back in sixth year, Dumbledore lifted the ban, and Harry returned as Seeker. Ginny moved to Chaser. She was a really good Chaser-in league with Alicia Spinnet, if Harry said so himself. Last year, the other two Chasers and the two Beaters graduated.

So they needed to replace them. Ron wanted Ginny and Harry to be there to show solidarity or something. Which was actually pretty stupid, Harry thought, because it wasn't like he and Ginny actually had much to do with the decisions. It wasn't like there was even much to decide today. The pitch was open for Gryffindors to practice for tryouts, that was all. Harry really didn't want to go-what he wanted to do was sleep until dinner, eat, go to Astronomy, sleep again, and then go to Hogsmeade tomorrow-but he would. Not just because Ron was his captain, but because he was his friend.

Speaking of which, Harry was late. He picked up his pace. In other words, he went into a full-out sprint. He was going to get there on time. Harry did not relish seeing the hurt look on Ron's face if he was late. The one that no one else but Harry and Hermione could tell was anything other than Ron's normal expression, but to the Dream Team, it was the picture of a puppy who was beaten and then kicked for good measure.

He was not fated to be on time, Harry found as he ran straight into something big and black and kind of soft. Harry landed on the something he hit, just catching his breath. He opened his eyes, and the black was explained. A Hogwarts robe. Gryffindor. It also explained the soft and big.

"Sorry, Neville," Harry croaked, quickly trying to get up. It didn't work out quite as planned, and Harry fell back onto Neville.

"Oomph!"

Harry wasn't sure which one of them said that, but whoever it was, he wholeheartedly agreed. This was not going right. It wasn't even supposed to be going at all! Harry was supposed to be suave and debonair-he wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded good-around Neville. He was supposed to subtly feel him out, and when he discovered that Neville liked boys (which, of course, he would), Harry was supposed to ask him out. Neville would, of course, say yes, and it would all be great from there on out. Harry was not supposed to hit the object of his affection at a dead run and then fall over him again when he tried to get up. This was so embarrassing.

"Are you going to get up?" Neville asked. Harry looked down, startled to realize that he was still lying on Neville, trapping him. Harry was sure that he had already gotten up, but he was just so comfortable now.

"No," slipped out of Harry before he could stop it. Harry clammed his mouth shut, hoping Neville hadn't heard. He didn't mean to say that, but he didn't go back on his word, either. He didn't get up.

Neville chuckled. It was a deep, throaty sound that went straight to Harry's private bits. Harry had heard Neville laugh, giggle, even guffaw, but he had never heard him chuckle. Harry wouldn't have expected it to be so deep, and he wouldn't have thought such a simple thing could leave him so affected. But there it was, and there he was, so there they were.

"Umm, okay, Harry, get up now," Neville said after he could his chuckling-not laughter, it was manlier, sexier-under control.

Harry groaned but obliged him. A little. He didn't get up, just kind of rolled to the side of Neville. He felt his face get hot. He was so stupid! He hoped Neville couldn't tell that he was embarrassed.

Neville sat up, and all of a sudden, he didn't seem as confident and manly as he was a moment before. He was timid and a little shy. Like he had been in first year. Harry thought it was sweet, even if he couldn't figure out the cause behind it. Harry sat up to get a better look.

"Ah, thanks," Neville said, looking visibly relieved. Harry didn't know what he did, but he smiled all the same. "It's-it's just, this is going to be so much easier if I can look you in the eye. You know?"

No, Harry didn't know, but if it would help, he would look into Neville's eyes all day long. They were pretty. A light blue, like the sky.

"It's-it's just-" Neville took a deep breath. He looked towards the castle for a moment, then back to Harry. He was calmer when he looked back, his jaw set in the stubborn manner befitting a Gryffindor. "A little birdie said that you like me. As in like me like me."

Harry listened in horror. How did Neville know? Who told him? The only people that knew were Harry and... That bitch! Harry would kill her! He would wrap his hands around her scrawny, knew-too-much-for-her-own-good, Ravenclaw neck and squeeze the life out of her like juice from an orange.

"I only say this because-" Neville said, but Harry interrupted him.

"You know I would never hit on you, right?" Harry asked. "Or try to grope you? Or do anything to jeopardize our friendship?" Harry had to get that point across. He wanted Neville to know that he would never purposefully ruin their friendship by trying to make it more, no matter how much he wanted it.

"Yeah, I know," Neville said. His shoulders slumped. "I should have know that you would never want me. I mean, you're Harry Bloody Potter. And you're fucking gorgeous. It's just, well, Luna said some things that I probably got all wrong, and-"

"You think I'm gorgeous?" Harry asked. He had to make sure he heard it right. What if Neville actually said "You're fucking hideous" or something of the like? He'd be terribly embarrassed by what he was about to do.

"Well, yeah," Neville said. "I mean, you're obviously the best looking-"

Harry didn't wait to find out what he was the "best looking" of, and Neville didn't attempt to keep talking. It would have been rather difficult, really, as their lips were currently occupied elsewhere.

Harry kissed Neville, a light peck on the lips, and it was nothing like he expected. Harry had only one kiss to compare this to, but even so-and even though it lasted, maybe, 0.2 seconds-Harry felt confident in saying it was the best kiss, on the earth or in the colonies, ever.

Then he was immediately proved wrong when Neville swooped up and captured his lips for a second time. He pulled Harry down onto him and rolled over. Now it was Harry who was trapped underneath Neville, and he found that he liked it. Neville tasted of licorice and ham, a combination Harry never tasted before but soon discovered he liked.

Harry reached up to tangle his hands in Neville's hair. It was as soft as he expected. Harry shifted, and Neville settled between his parted legs. Harry licked Neville's lower lip and opened his mouth, encouraging Neville's tongue to seek entrance. It did, and their tongues dueled. They twined together, and it wasn't near as gross as Harry would have previously thought. In fact, he really liked it.

The kiss ended all too soon as Neville pulled back. He sat up and touched his lips. "Wow," Neville said.

"Yeah," Harry concurred. He sat up by Neville. "This was not what I expected when I came outside. Nice, but unexpected."

"Yeah," Neville said, his hand tracing over Harry's. "I think I'm going to have to give our little birdie a present."

Harry agreed and leaned into Neville. A thought tickled at the back of his mind. He couldn't think of what it was, though. Something about a birdie. That was it! Harry sat up straight as it came to him. Birdie. Snidget. Snitch. Quidditch. Ron! Oh, he was late! Majorly!

Harry shot up, and once again, his robe got tangled with Neville's. "I'm late, I'm late!" Harry cried. He was so stupid! Now he was going to have to deal with Ron's beaten puppy-dog face. Harry leaned down to give Neville another kiss, but he stopped himself. If he kissed Neville, he'd never make it to the pitch. "Sorry, Nev, but I've got to go. Supposed to meet Ron. Quidditch. Practice tryouts." Harry tried to run away, but Neville grabbed his hand.

"That's what I came to tell you," Neville said when Harry tried to jerk out of his grasp. "Ginny never showed-she's out with her new boyfriend, Zacharias Smith, I think-and Ron told me to tell you not to come. It's not really unity and solidarity if only two-thirds of the team's there."

"Oh, okay," Harry said. His heart stopped trying to jump out of his chest. He sat back down beside Neville. An awkwardness fell over them that was never there before. Harry wished it would go away, and they could make out some more. Or just talk. Either was okay with Harry.

"So," Harry said.

"So," Neville echoed.

"You want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow" Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Which-despite what anyone my say otherwise-was extremely difficult when his insides were twisting up.

"Merlin, yes," Neville said, sounding as relieved that Harry asked as Harry was that Neville consented. This was turning out to be a good day.

A few hours later-hours spent snogging behind Greenhouse 4-when they parted ways, it was still a good day.

***

It was not a good day. Heero supposed that everything they-whoever They were-said about Friday the thirteenth had to be true. As long as its bad luck and general horribleness could last two weeks. Every day at Hogwarts was worse than the last. Heero was beginning to regret not taking Dorothy's suggestion of stealing Harry and running.

Except, Harry looked happy-at least, he had when Heero saw him and Neville rolling on the front lawn together, connected at the lips. Heero had put a Notice-Me-Not charm on them and hoped they had the sense to take it someplace more private-the spell wore off after thirty minutes. And Quatre was in seventh heaven. He spent all of his free time in the Potions classroom with Professor Snape. He was the first Gryffindor in the history of Hogwarts to be liked-not merely tolerated-by a Slytherin teacher.

Quatre was still mad at Heero. He wouldn't talk to him, and Heero was lonely. Quatre always fussed and fussed at him for not appreciating his powers-the Gift, the Sight, others-but when Heero stood up for one, Quat blew up at him. Sometimes, Heero's oldest brother was incomprehensible.

Madame Trewlawny still hated him. Apparently, she used to predict Harry's gruesome death every class. Now, it was always Heero's. The scary thing was, sometimes she would predict him dying in a way in which he had already died. He was supposed to die three times today-on Wednesday, Madame Trelawny told him how he would die for the rest of the week.

Duo was the worst, though. He wouldn't even look at Heero. How was he supposed to explain things if Duo wouldn't even look at him? Not that Heero would tell the truth-at least, not the whole truth and nothing but-but it would be nice to be given the opportunity to do so.

And Daemon. Daemon, Daemon, Daemon. Daemon the friend. Daemon the brother. Daemon the traitor. Heero though he was rid of him when he turned twelve. But, of course, no Hell would be complete without its own personal Judas.

And, for Heero, Hogwarts was Hell. Trowa-and Wufei, who was also at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw-was on Duo's side. Dorothy was the only person he knew who wasn't mad at him. And he couldn't exactly see her all the time because (one) she was in Slytherin and (two) he would have to tell her why Quatre was mad at him. Chances were, she'd be pissed as hell at him.

Heero was tired. With Quatre mad at him, he couldn't sleep properly. Quatre hadn't kicked him out of bed or anything-he didn't want to have to sleep on his own-but he wouldn't touch Heero. He wouldn't comfort Heero after he had a nightmare. Granted, Heero was pretty good at blocking his feelings (including gut-clenching terror) from his brother.

Plus, Harry had nightmares every night. And every night, Heero and Quatre would always crawl into bed with him and soothe him. It always worked. At least Heero was touching someone, but it wasn't the same. They always left before daylight, and Harry never mentioned it. Heero wasn't sure he even knew what the source of his good dreams was. Between comforting Harry and being ignored by Quatre, Heero wasn't sleeping.

That's why he decided to take a nap. At least, he would try to take a nap. The jury was out on whether or not he would actually be able to sleep, especially all by himself. Heero lay down in his bed-unused for thirteen days-and snuggled under the covers. Heero wasn't cold (even if he was, he could withstand it), but the mattress was soft, and he had learned to appreciate all the creature comforts life had to give.

Growing up, he lived in a sterile building and slept on hard cots in a cold room with eleven other kids and one blanket among them. The strongest one always got it. Heero was never the strongest, so he never got the blanket. He was always cold. Now, anytime Heero had a blanket, he used it. He had too much of being cold and uncomfortable.

Heero allowed himself to relax and was out like a light almost immediately. He stiffened and sat up, his eyes open and glassy. Heero stared at a spot near the door that only he could see. He opened his mouth to speak and did not know it.

"Once upon a time," Heero said, not hearing the words coming out of his mouth, or even knowing that he spoke, "not so very long ago, three very special children were born. These children, born of the heir of the clan LeFey, were the first ever Vanuli triplets in existence. The clan LeFey rejoiced upon their arrival, for it was said that triplets-infraternal though they were-were very powerful, indeed.

"Many plans were made for the children, as both the new heirs and a future triumvirate. Sadly, the plans were not to come to fruition. On the day of their births, four men came to the mother-they wanted to take the triplets. Being a woman, she knew that it was her duty to give her sons to their rightful fathers, as three of them were. One of the men-the only one whose seed did not create a child--wished to take all three with him, for it was with his magic that the children had been created. However, the mother knew that the man was a very evil man indeed and would use her children to his own devices. Knowing this, she did the only thing she could; she gave one child to each of the fathers. With this done, she effectively protected two of her children from the man.

"The Vanuli world wept when it discovered what had happened. However, after weeks of grief, a lowly Seer came forward. She said to the clan one sentence, but it was enough to bring joy to the bereaved peoples. She said to them, "On the night of their maturation, the Vanuli three will rise up and defeat two great evils."

"But there was much the Seer did not say. She did not tell the Vanuli of the First's family. How he loved his stepmother as his own. That he thought himself human and did not know he even had brothers until he felt one die. She did not tell of the Second's life. That his father and stepmother would die when he was a baby. That he would be sent to live with his stepmother's family. How he would not know of magic until he was eleven. How he, alone, would temporarily injure one of the great evils he was destined to defeat. She did not tell of the Third, the only one of whom the evil man got possession. She did not tell how the man would suck the magic from him, and how every time it would kill him a little more. She did not say how many innocent or misguided people the three would kill along the way or if they would love one another.

"Most of all, she did not say that, after the Vanuli Three defeat the two great evils, they themselves would have the opportunity to become more powerful than the whole of the entire world. Whether or not they take that opportunity-and what they do with their power, should they take it-will be decided on their eighteenth Life Day.

"That day is fast coming. Choose well, my Three."

Heero blinked and came back to himself. He saw that he was sitting up but couldn't remember doing it. The last thing he remembered, he was lying down, about to go to sleep. Guess that's not happening now, he thought and got out of bed. He walked out of the door and didn't look back.

***

If Heero had looked back, he would've seen Harry. After leaving Neville, Harry came back to the room to find Ron. He wanted to make sure Ron wasn't mad at him for not showing up to the pitch, just like Ginny. Instead of Ron, Harry found his new roommate-his new suspicious roommate-acting suspiciously. Heero sat there, on his bed, not saying anything. It wasn't until Harry was completely in the room that he spoke. It was as if he wanted Harry to hear what he said.

Harry knew what was happening to Heero the moment he started talking. He had seen it once before. The Madame Trelawny gave a real prediction. Harry supposed that it wasn't really a prediction, but a sort of prophecy. Whatever they were, Harry did not want to run into those "Vanuli Three." Whatever that was. They didn't sound like anyone he wanted to know.

Harry watched as Heero hurried out of the room. Why did he have the urge to run after Heero and give him a hug?

Selune