Gundam Wing Fan Fiction / Fan Fiction ❯ Peace, Love, and Family: The Story of the Vanuli Three ❯ A Big, Not-So-Bad Day ( Chapter 12 )

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 12: A Big, Not-So-Bad Day

The Friday after Harry learned of his true place in the universe, Heero woke up feeling very strange. He recognized the feeling-had felt it several times in the past, in fact-but this time it was different. Every month since Heero's family became allied with several wolf packs, Heero went through several changes. About a week before the full moon, he would become playful, frolicking in the forest like a wolf cub. Throughout the week, his behavior would slowly mature. The day before the full moon, Heero would reach the peak of the change, and he would be consumed by Lust, a state that only fertile, mateless wolves achieved. As soon as the sun set on the night of the full moon, Heero's Lust would cease, and he would fall into a deep trance. Heero would control his puppies, his wolves, until the sun rose the next morning.

Eleven months ago, when Heero was fully healed from the ward removals, Dorothy had suggested that he and Quatre obtain allies. They would need friends, she said, if they were to fulfill their prophesied destiny. A wolf pack, led by a wolf named Roun, barely out of the cub stage himself, was the first to accept the family's offer of friendship. The pack offered the Vanuli protection in exchange for one thing-control. They would keep safe the young LeFey heirs as best they could, and the Vanuli would control their beasts for them. It was decided, after much deliberation, that Heero would be the one to reign in their viciousness.

The terms accepted, Heero had to figure out how to live up to his end of the bargain. Wolfsbane was out of the question. It would weaken the wolves so much that they would fail at their task. Eventually, he used his Gift to his advantage. He took the leader Roun to his bed, and in a fit of passion, Marked him. Heero tasted the blood of Roun, and Heero's magic flowed into him, consuming him. For a moment, Roun lived for Heero and would continue to live only by his will. When the moment was over, and Heero pulled back, the magic receded to the back of Roun's mind, only to be called up when the wolf had taken over. Heero had sprinkled the Mark with silver, so that it would never fully heal. It was their connection to one another, their physical symbol for their verbal agreement.

And thus, because of his connection with Roun and several other pack leaders, Heero went through a monthly cycle very similar to theirs. They played, they fucked, and they controlled the members of their packs. He played, he Lusted, and he controlled them.

However, this time was different from all the others Heero had experienced. Every month for almost ten months, he had played. This month, his play had been interrupted constantly. First by the attack on Harry, then by the continued solemnity that Quatre, Dorothy, and Harry persisted in maintaining. It made Heero tense and unwilling to frolic. And of course, this month, Heero's Lust-O-Meter was all out of whack. For all of the full moons preceding this one, Heero had been able to control his Lust. He had locked himself alone, in a steel room from which he could not escape, he had drunk Booamyie until he passed out, he had done anything possible to keep from acting on his desires. Heero could do no such thing this month, the main reason being that he didn't want to. Not with the object of his affection was oh, so very close.

Heero could smell him, the wonderful scent permeating from wherever he was, filling Heero's nostrils. Heero took in the scent before getting to work. He wanted Duo Maxwell, and he would have him. But to do that, he would have to make Duo want him again. Heero had a big day ahead of him.

***

Quatre and Harry smiled uneasily at each other from opposite ends of a couch in the Common Room. Despite having agreed to try to come to terms with his "new family," Harry was still uncomfortable being alone with just Quatre. Actually, he was uncomfortable being alone with Dorothy, Quatre, or Heero, but at the same time, he was more at ease there than anywhere else. Harry got a feeling in his gut like the floor had dropped beneath him, and he'd only just discovered it. It was a wholly awful, wonderful feeling that left an awful, wonderful taste in his mouth. He felt like he was flying but could fall any minute. It was sort of how he felt around Neville, who was now officially his boyfriend. Harry didn't know if he liked being a part of the family or not, but he felt there could be no harm in trying it out. After all, he had always wanted a family, and here was one, pre-made and ready for the taking. That was why he was here now with Quatre, waiting for Heero, so they could go to breakfast.

Wednesday morning, when he'd woken up, Quatre and Heero had caught him off guard. They'd asked for a week, a mere seven days, in which to convince Harry of their ties to one another. In his sleep-addled state, he had agreed. Now, on the morning of the third day, Harry was no closer to being convinced that he was their brother, the second born of Vanuli triplets, than he was that this morning in Potions, Snape would pick the petals off a flower, say "He loves me, he loves me not," and declare his undying love to a Gryffindor-other than Quatre. But then Heero would do something, or Quatre would say something, and Harry's insides would warm, and he would think, That's my brother. It was confusing, to say the least, especially since the warm feeling eventually left, leaving Harry to wonder if he'd ever really felt it in the first place, if it was real or all just a trick.

The most confusing thing Harry ever felt in his messed up, dysfunctional, is-this-really-happening life, was when Heero descended the stairs leading from the boys' dormitories. Harry's jaw dropped in order to let his tongue roll across the floor in almost cartoon-like fashion. he had the urge to engage in one very unrandom act of incest. For coming down the stairs was no ordinary boy, it was a disciple of Aphrodite, a veritable Sex God.

Harry didn't know what Heero was wearing, but he got the sense that it was special, not something one normally wore to class or something of the like. Heero's robe-if it could be called a robe-was silky, filmy, gauzy. It was all three at once, yet it was none. At first glance, Harry couldn't tell what it was made of. At second and third glance, he was none the wiser and knew that would be the case even if identifying fabric were his entire life. The outfit fit Heero like a glove, conforming to his every curve until it reached his waist, where it flared out, the only indication that it might, in fact, be a robe of some sort. Although to Harry, it looked more like a dress than anything. When Heero stood still, the bottom of the robe/dress looked like it was one piece, all put together in a nice, neat, conservative fashion. But when he moved just a little bit this way or that, Harry could plainly see that it was, in fact, made up of many strips of the unknown fabric, like someone had taken the skirt of the robe and sliced into it. From the waist up, the robe/dress clung to Heero as if it were a living being and needed him as he needed oxygen. There were slits in the top, showing hints of abdomen, neck, nipple, and a flash of reddish pink near his stomach. It was, undeniably, the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen in his life. And his brother was wearing it.

Harry took a moment to catch his breath before deciding to just hold it. Quatre seemed intent on huffing-and puffing-all the air into his own lungs. After several years of heavy breathing, wherein Heero's clothes did not fall down and no littl piggies came running about the room, Quatre voiced a question that Harry himself might have, had he the air to do it.

"What are you WEARING?" Quatre roared angrily, much like a lion who's just seen something bad that made him very angry.

If Harry were Heero-and Quatre were Hermione-he would have meeped and ran upstairs to change. Heero didn't seem to have the survival instincts that Harry had, and for that, Harry prayed for him.

"My Amenea robe," Heero said, smoothing the bottom of the object in question. He twirled around twice in a full circle, during which Harry realized that the object in question was all that Heero was wearing. "You like?"

Hell, yes, Harry thought, before banishing all naughty thought processes to a deep, dark corner of his mind. I'm with Neville!

And Heero's my brother!

Probably.

"And just why are you wearing your Amenea robe?" Quatre asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Harry got the feeling that he did it to stop himself from pinching or hitting or kicking Heero somewhere that was not the bridge of his nose. "Are you planning on going dancing before breakfast?"

"Only if you ask real nice," Heero said, tweaking Quatre on the nose, making him lose his grip. Heero giggled at Quatre's startled reaction-namely, to fall back on the couch-before running behind Harry, who didn't even realize it when he stood up. The flashes of skin Heero revealed when he ran would have made Harry's naughty bits perk up, had he not told all thoughts of sex involving Heero-I'm with Neville, damnit!-to pack up and leave-Heero's my brother!-under pain of death and dismemberment.

"I'm going hunting," Heero said. It took Harry several minutes-Heero was using him as a shield now, against the attacks of Quatre the Prudish-but he eventually figured out why Heero was talking as well as what he was saying. "I hear Slytherins are in season now, and I thought I would catch me a big one. I just needed the right bait."

Heero let go of Harry so fast that he spun. By the time he stopped, Heero was through the portrait hole, and Quatre was about to follow. Quatre stopped as suddenly as, well, something that would stop really, really suddenly. He walked over to Harry, a red pill in his hand. He gave it to Harry.

"I forgot to give this to you," Quatre said as Harry took the pill. "It'll make you feel more normal."

Without a thought, Harry stuck the pill in his mouth and swallowed. He needed as much normal as he could get. In one word, the pill tasted revolting. In several words, it tasted like cat shit poured over a steaming pile of blast-ended skrewts with a couple of Ron's Quidditch socks artfully arranged as decoration. But Harry no longer had the urge to tie Heero down to the nearest flat surface and have his wicked way with him. All in all, a pretty good trade.

Harry ran after his brothers.

***

Dorothy felt the disturbance in the air before she heard any sound to indicate the sudden wrongness. Or rightness, as the case may be. Dorothy tried to ignore it and continue eating, but when several forks dropped, Vincent Crabbe wolf-whistled, and Draco Malfoy whispered in a not-very-quiet-voice, "In the name of all that is holy..." Dorothy's curiosity go the best of her. She looked up only to wish she hadn't but still very glad that she did.

In the doorway to the Great Hall stood the three most important people in the world. Quatre came in first, a bright scowl on his face, confusing everyone with his oxymoronic expression-happy and not-so-happy. Harry came next, looking slightly queasy but nonetheless in a good mood. Dorothy was ecstatic to see him and Quatre not squabbling, as they did almost constantly for the last two days. Heero came third. There was really only one word to describe Heero. Breath-takingly-rip-off-his-clothes-pin-him-to-the-wall-radiant.

Dorothy racked her brain trying to figure out why Heero was wearing his ceremonial Amenea robe, but she kept getting distracted by the movement of his lips. It was then that she remembered the date. It was the day before the full moon, and Heero's libido was in hyperdrive. He was sending out pheromones by the bucketload. She took her little red pill out of the pocket of her own robe and swallowed it just as Heero laughed-it sounded like the ringing of so many angelic bells. It made her belly tighten and her spirits soar and-then she was okay.

As the little red pill (Dorothy couldn't, for the life of her, remember what Quatre said it was) worked its magic, Dorothy took the opportunity to scan the room. Every eye was riveted on her boy, but his eyes were for one person and one person only. Dorothy followed his gaze back to Maxwell, who was the only person-except for her, of course-looking everywhere but at Heero. Dorothy's eyes flicked back to Heero in time to see his lower lip tremble and his eyes fill with tears. When he saw her looking at him, he banished his tears and flashed her a smile, blinding in its intensity. He turned away from her and went to the Gryffindor table.

What Heero didn't see, though, was that as soon as he looked away, Maxwell's eyes followed him like a lost puppy dog. Out of the corner of her eye, Dorothy saw Barton give Maxwell a signal as soon as Heero wasn't looking. Upon reception of the signal, Maxwell checked out Heero as though he were a very old Bellarmee and Maxwell was the lucky bastard who had enough antivenom to get to eat him. In Dorothy's opinion, if the location of where his eyes looked indicated anything, Maxwell decided to take his first bite out of Heero's ass.

Dorothy almost died laughing when Maxwell realized that other people were watching Heero in the same hungry fashion. When he noticed that he wasn't the only one to notice Heero's sexified look, he scowled. When no one seemed to care about his unpleasant expression, he growled. When he saw that Malfoy stared at Heero, his jaw gaping open and drool falling down his chin, Maxwell suggested that he would put Malfoy's fallen fork through vital bits, vital naughty bits, of his anatomy if he continued to stare with such desire. Every Slytherin within hearing range-Malfoy included-took that as an invitation to go back to their breakfast.

Heero most definitely got the desired reaction from Maxwell, but he didn't know it. And Dorothy certainly wasn't going to tell him.

***

He was so close. He was so close that Heero could smell him, that sweet musky scent. Heero longed to roll in his scent, to rub against the origin of the scent and mark him with Heero's own. Heero could almost touch him. He was so close, and about to get closer. Heero started to stand up-he would rub, roll, bask in the scent of his Duo-right when a dark form lurched above him, blocking his path to Duo.

"Just what do you think you are doing, Mr. Yuy?" the stupid thing drawled in its stupid voice, stupidly blocking his escape.

"What? Go away," Heero said to the thing he now recognized as Professor Snape. "I don't have time to answer your moronic questions. I'm busy. Go away."

But Snape refused to go away. He continued to stand in Heero's way, maliciously preventing him from running to Duo and having mad monkey sex all over the Slytherin table with him. It was getting on Heero's nerves.

"Mr. Yuy, I know that you are new here, so I'm going to explain Hogwarts' dress code to you just this one time," Snape said slowly, as if to a child. "Every student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is required to wear a Hogwarts robe while on school property and outside of the dormitories. You, Mr. Yuy, are outside of the dormitories, but that"-Snape pointed to Heero's Amenea robe-"is not a Hogwarts school robe. I suggest you go change before I start handing out detentions." Snape smirked, as if he thought that Heero actually cared about school policy and detention. As if he thought Heero would now go change, like a good little puppet.

Not gonna happen.

Heero reached out a grabbed Snape's finger, which was still pointing at him in a very rude manner. He held it in his hand, sending Snape lust and need and obedience as he talked. "Well, Professor Snape," Heero said, very low so that only Snape could hear him, "surely some exceptions can be made. After all, it's such a very silly rule, don't you think?" Snape nodded, his eyes glazed over from Heero's manipulation. "Can't we let it go just this once?" Again, Snape nodded, his eyes fixed firmly on the dip in Heero's neck. "Great! So, I'll just be going-"

The second that Heero let go of Snape, the bell rang, signalling the start of class. Everyone was still at breakfast, including the teachers. There was a flurry of noise and papers and bodies as people, realizing that they had been in a daze for thirty minutes or more and were consequently late, rushed to get to class. Duo was one of them.

Heero sulked at his lost chance to seduce Duo, until he remembered that Potions was his first class of the day.

***

Today is a very bad day. Today is a very bad day. Today is a very bad day. Quatre played that litany in his mind over and over during potions. Normally his favorite class, today it deteriorated into "Get to Know Heero Better" class. While Quatre didn't begrudge his brother his fame, it got very irritating when-during Quatre's absolute, most favorite class ever-all eyes were riveted on Heero, fascinated. Including Professor Snape's, who had declared that his "love for Heero was like the sun, every burning, ever passionate" at the beginning of class.

This morning at breakfast-hell, this morning before breakfast-people's reactions to Heero caused Quatre to get mildly annoyed. Harry practically salivated at the sight of his own brother. To tell the truth, so had Quatre, before he remembered to take his Cassus libinus. So he sympathized with the way the people around Heero felt. But really, that was no excuse to stop class. Hormones could be overcome!

And Professor Snape, at least, would have, if Heero hadn't touched him. But Heero had touched him, and now Professor Snape was the worst of the lot. At the beginning of class, after declaring his love for Heero, Professor Snape had erased the notes for a new potion off the board and announced that today would be a question and answer session from Heero. Quatre could almost see the pink hearts floating above his head. It was all very nauseating. Thankfully, it was temporary, but it was still repulsive in the interim.

Quatre sat with Harry at the back of the class as Heero was asked every irrelevant question under the sun by every idiot in the class that was so miraculously, spontaneously in love with Quatre's baby brother.

"How old are you?" Seventeen, but I'll turn eighteen in the summer. "What is your favorite color?" Violet because someone very dear to me has violet eyes. "What kind of music do you like?" Mostly old Muggle stuff, pre-colony. But the Weird Sisters are great, too. And the Furies. "Will you go out with me?" I'm sorry, but I'm unavailable. I have someone I love very much, if he'll take me back. "Aww, anyone would want you Heero." That was followed by a chorus of "yeah"s and "uh huh"s. Then the questions began again. "What's your family like, Heero?" I have a large extended family. My mom has almost as many siblings as she does children. And they have more kids than her, on average. Two of my brothers mean the world to me-they're the closest to me in age. Two of my cousins feel more like siblings to me than most of my real brothers and sisters-and Milly's wife is very close to me, too. I really don't know the others that well.

The questions went on and on. Heero answered every one with the truth, a partial truth, or a complete lie. Sometimes Quatre couldn't tell which it was. When asked about his dad, Heero replied that he was dead, which Quatre knew to be a lie, but he said it so sincerely that Quatre almost believed him. But no matter whose question he was answering or what he was saying, Heero looked at Duo. His eyes never wavered, and Duo's eyes never met his. It was enough to royally piss off Quatre.

"So, why is everybody acting like this?" Harry asked, drawing Quatre away from his brooding. Wednesday morning, after they had made the One Week contract, Quatre and Heero had given Harry an open question policy. He could ask them for any information, and they would give it, providing that they knew it. In Quatre's opinion, Harry abused the policy. In a little over two days, Harry already knew about Quatre's and Heero's involvement in the Muggle war, Duo's and Heero's ex-relationship, and Quatre's and Heero's history of drinking Booamyie, eating Bellarmees, and dancing the night away.

Today, Harry's question couldn't come at a worse time. Quatre wanted to brood. But he was bound by his word to give Harry at least a partial explanation. So explain he did. In graphic detail.

"So," Harry said after Quatre's long-winded explanation, of which none of their classmates took notice, "every month, on the day before the full moon, Heero gives off a scent much like a werewolf's during that time. But because he is a Vanuli and not a werewolf, his scent will attract both males and females of practically every species with which he comes into contact. And he also feels this drive, this need to copulate, but because, in his mind, he was already mated, he was able to fight it before. But since his "mate"-namely one Duo Maxwell-is less than three feet away from him, he may lose control and attack Maxwell, thus disappointing every other person in this room."

"That's pretty much it," Quatre said before going back to watching Heero watch Duo. "Except that Heero would never-could never-hurt Duo, so he's resorted to crude seduction techniques. By the looks of things, it's working."

"What are you talking about?" Harry said, clearly bewildered at Quatre's statement. "Maxwell hasn't looked at Heero for the entire class."

"Come here," Quatre said, waving Harry over to stand directly behind him. "Now look at Duo." Harry did so, and Quatre could tell when he saw it because of the gasp of surprise he let out.

"It reflects," Harry said, meaning the storage cabinet that Duo had been staring at the entire time. "He could see Heero, has in fact, been staring at him all along."

"Yup," Quatre responded. "I guess Heero's better at that seduction thing than even he knows."

"I reckon so," Harry said, sitting down behind Quatre, arm slung over his shoulder. "Guess we'll have to let Heero know, right?" Harry smiled at Quatre.

"Oh, yeah," Quatre said.

I guess this day's not so bad, after all,Quatre thought as he and his estranged brother continued to talk for the rest of the period. As long as I can get Harry to agree not to tell Heero about Duo.

Selune