Hanging By A Moment

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own anything to do with Harry Potter or with Gundam Wing. I
am not getting paid for this in any way, it’s merely for entertainment purposes.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story contains slash which means male/male pairings and is a
Harry Potter/Gundam Wing crossover.

0 0 0

He stood framed in the window, slim frame distinguished by the soft light that filtered
down from the thinnest sliver of a moon. Though a crisp wind caressed his bare arms,
sending sprinkles of goose-flesh down his spine, he remained in the open window, face
tilted to the canopy of stars high overhead. His arms crossed over his chest, leaning
against his left shoulder, supporting his weight on the frame of the massive picture
window.

The soft glint of his glasses flashed reflections of the diamond studded sky with even the
slightest movement. A gust of icy wind pushed relentlessly against him, ruffling his
already messy hair. He laughed as a violent shiver wracked his body, stretching his right
hand out to allow the wind better access to his bare skin.

A soft, exasperated sigh startled him, and he whirled to face the shadowy figure behind
him, her form in a loose white nightgown gently illuminated by a soft green glow at the
end of the slender wand she held in one hand. Though the soft mound of a pregnant belly
swelled beneath the loose cotton, she looked young, almost like a child, face solemn,
framed by two thick brown braids that fell across her shoulders. Her eyes appeared
ageless, dipped in thick black shadows that made her look gaunt, lending her features an
otherworldly quality.

She held her free left hand out to him, pulling him down, away from the window. He
swore as he caught sight of the young woman’s bare feet, releasing her cool hand, turning
to close the window behind them. She sighed again, equal parts amusement and irritation.
“I won’t break, Harry.”

Eighteen year old Harry James Potter snorted, as if he had a different opinion, but had
more sense than to say it aloud. He pulled a slim wand from his back pants pocket,
pointing it at the cold shadows of a looming fireplace, a gaping mouth in the wall.
Though he didn’t say a word, flames leaped to life, licking the mound of wood he had
placed there hours before, and had abandoned in favor of the night sky. He slid one hand
over her pregnant stomach in an intimate, yet casual way. “You shouldn’t walk around
here with bare feet.” He admonished, sliding his other hand, careful not to poke her with
his wand, over her lower back. He propelled her gently but firmly toward the perimeter of
the fire.

Harry ignored her silent sputtering, pushing her down into a chair near the leaping
flames. Heat kissed his cold skin, searing his arms and face, leaving angry red burns over
every inch. She opened her mouth, a familiar self righteous glint in her brown eyes, but
Harry beat her to it. “Do I need to get Ron and tell him that his pregnant wife is going to
get sick because she refuses to put on a pair of slippers?”

Her face flushed with indignation, and her mouth snapped shut with a nearly audible
click of her teeth. Harry waited, struggling to keep a smirk from his face. It took
Hermione Granger Weasley nearly another full minute to regain her powers of speech,
during which, Harry was certain, she was counting to fifty to avoid the impulse that
leaned toward homicide. “I am not a child!” She finally snapped her voice carefully
controlled. “I do NOT need to ask my HUSBAND’S per mission to…to wipe my own
nose or wander my own house!”

Harry struggled not to laugh, knowing that so much as a smile would result in a
bloodbath. “Certainly not.” Ronald Weasley’s dry voice from the door to Harry’s room
made both turn quickly. Safely out of Hermione’s line of sight, Harry allowed a grin to
cross his face. His redheaded friend inclined one eyebrow in reply, slipping one arm
around his wife’s waist as he joined them by the fire. “Is Harry teasing you again?” He
asked, his voice properly sympathetic.

Harry held both hands out in a placating manner. “All I did,” He said, as if wounded by
the assumption on his character. “Was to tell her to wear slippers. It’s nearly Halloween,
it’s getting cold.” His reasonable words had the desired effect on both as Ron glanced
down at Hermione’s bare feet, stained a dark red from cold. Ron opened his mouth, a
resigned cold already on his lips, but Hermione beat him to it. “FINE!” She snarled,
storming from the room.

“And a robe!” Harry yelled after her, making her swear colorfully. Harry laughed,
leaning against the wall near the fireplace.

For a moment a comfortable silence stretched between the two males before Ron spoke.
“Harry, do a mate a favor and try not to antagonize her so much. Please remember it’s
ME she ends up making sleep on the couch because she hates all men.”

Harry laughed again at the aggrieved note in his best friend’s voice, and shrugged. “She
needed slippers. It’s chilly in here.”

Ron snorted, making it clear he thought Harry was full of crap. He looked plaintively at
the set of wizard’s chess set on the small table between two chairs. “You wouldn’t want
to….” He trailed off, realizing that Harry wasn’t listening, had drifted back to the
window, resting his forehead against the glass. “Harry?”

Harry turned and smiled wanly, and Ron clearly saw the dark circles beneath his friend’s
eyes from lack of sleep. He frowned, freckles standing out from a pale face, blue eyes
worried. Harry shook his head. “I don’t understand it, Ron.” He said softly, almost to
himself. “I thought I’d be able to rest once Voldemort was dead.” His gaze swung
longingly to the window again. “But I can’t settle down. I’m too…restless.”

Ron joined him at the window. “Maybe you need a different sort of adventure, Mate.
Ginny-“

Harry stopped listening. Though he knew Ron hadn’t meant to do it, his friend had
prodded a wound. He could still picture Ginny Weasley’s tearful explanation. “I loved
the IDEA of you, Harry. The hero that you were…that you ARE. I didn’t love you, and
you deserve better. I’m sorry. So sorry.” It had taken a week for him to see her in the
arms of Blaise Zabini. Harry understood…it had been nearly five months since then…but
it still hurt. He shook his head. “No, Ron. Ginny and I don’t work.” He said absently,
ignoring the incredulous look on his best friend’s face.

“But all the ever talks about is how in love she is!” Ron protested, his eyes beginning to
flash, ears turning red from temper, as if HARRY had been the one to dump
HER…though, he reflected, in a way he had. At the end of his 6th year, he had
relinquished all ties between them in order to fight a war he didn’t want. It was unfair of
him to expect that she wouldn’t find someone else.

“Ronald, stop yelling!” Hermione’s cross voice scolded. “Honestly! Who Harry and
Ginny date…that’s none of your business!”

Harry smiled slightly, and the smile widened as he saw the heavy robe and the warm
slippers. The smile she threw him was razor sharp, but she dropped a grumpy kiss onto
his cheek. Ron thought about arguing, but seemed to reconsider as Hermione whirled to
face him, looking annoyed enough to hit him with whatever was closest. “Besides,”
Harry continued, to break the tension. “THAT kind of distraction won’t help.” His gaze
followed a cloud as it slid over the moon, and he twitched restlessly. “I feel like I’m
needed somewhere, for something important.”

He ignored the significant looks Hermione and Ron exchanged, knowing it would only
spur a fight if he acknowledged it. “Of course you do, Harry.” Hermione soothed,
touching his shoulder. “You’re restless after all the excitement in the past.”

Excitement…Harry smiled slightly. That was a very mild way to describe it. In a way he
could see her point of view, and he tried to resist the urge to get annoyed at her. “I’m not
some attention hog, Hermione.” He said dryly.

Hermione sighed impatiently and Ron hurried to elaborate. “She never said you are,
Harry.” He licked his lips nervously. “It’s more…you’ve been fighting so long you don’t
know what to do with yourself.”

This was a good point as well, though it made Harry uncomfortable…and perhaps it
would have been correct under different circumstances. Harry had gone to war, recklessly
living the last year…because he hadn’t actually expected to live through the final battle.
Under different circumstances, the sudden zest for life he had possessed being dulled in
the peace after the war MIGHT have given him a restless feeling. This, however, was not
the source of his nervous energy.

There was a deep knowledge, a firm CONVICTION that he was needed somewhere.
Someone called out for him until the cry nearly became audible in the howling wind. The
fierce exultation that responded to the call had refused to allow him to ignore it.

“No.” He replied softly, making his friends exchange an uneasy glance. Anger,
annoyance, a righteous indignation they had expected. Harry’s gentle, almost dreamy
tone was very out of character and leant his conviction a believable strength. “I’m needed
somewhere for something. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

“It’s not V…Voldemort?” Ron’s voice stumbled over the name that ten minutes ago he
had been able to say with ease. “You don’t think it’s your connection?”

Harry blinked, surprised by the assumption, though he mused, he could have expected it.
It was a natural conclusion for his friends, who had seen and believed in the incredible
before. “No, Voldemort’s not back.” He said quickly. “It’s not HIS call I hear…but…I
don’t know. It’s a COMPULSION, a conviction that I’m needed somewhere right now.”

0 0 0

Chang Wufei stared at the ruined angles of his mangled legs and felt despair rise in his
chest, closely followed by a fierce triumph that burned all other feelings away. Through
endless hours without food or water, listening to the repetitive questions, each bone in
first one leg, than the other being systematically and sadistically broken, Wufei hadn’t
spoken a word. The knowledge made a cold smirk cross his handsome face, black eyes
blazing with triumph.

The smile on his face grew colder, took on a merciless edge. They would never get
information out of him. Heero would see to that. Escape wasn’t an option. Even as Wufei
scrutinized his legs again, he dismissed the idea. All even the best doctor could do was
give him something for the pain. He would be crippled, a security risk and a burden to his
few people who loved him. This he would not allow. When Heero came for him, Wufei
would take a bullet in the brain and thank his long-time friend, comrade, and brother.

Settling with his back against the walls of his cell, Chang Wufei closed his eyes to
meditate.

0 0 0

“Harry I found it!” Hermione’s excited voice startled Harry’s concentration on the game
of chess between himself and Ron, earning him a shallow cut from Ron’s sadistic queen
as she took the pawn half an inch from his hand. Hermione’s brown eyes shone with
excitement and barely contained energy. There was a spring in her step and a large book
in her arms. “Harry, I found it!” She cried again, thrusting the book at him. “I don’t think
it will hurt to check this out, since your compulsion is so strong and I knew I had a book
somewhere that might be useful.”

Ron snorted and turned back to the chessboard. “When you want to make sense, ‘Mione,
let us know.” Hermione glared darkly at her husband, reaching into Harry’s lap and
opening the book.

“Don’t be such a prat, Ron!” She snapped, her voice choppy with energy. Harry laughed,
recognizing the argument that had been manifesting itself since they had first met. Harry
met Ron’s eyes and grinned when his friend mouthed ‘MENTAL!’ over Hermione’s line
of sight. Hermione whirled and her eyes narrowed at Ron’s innocent look, but let it go in
favor of the book.

“I found a spell to test your compulsion. If it’s real…” She trailed off and flushed under
Harry’s glare. “That is…if someone needs your help and IS in fact calling you, it will
take you to them.”

Harry leaped to his feet, letting the book fall to the floor. Hermione gasped reproachfully,
but Harry didn’t care. He pulled her into a gentle but enthusiastic hug. “Bloody brilliant,
Hermione!” He exulted.

Hermione flushed as she pushed him away, but looked pleased by his reaction. “It’s a
portkey spell that instead of tying the transit to a PLACE, it’s tied to a wizard’s will. If
the wizard warts quiet and safety, the portkey would send them somewhere that,
subconsciously, would fit both criteria.” She picked up the book. “Naturally it’s chancy,
most times the person doesn’t go where they had originally intended. It’s less risky than a
blind apparition though.” She took a deep breath at the end of her hurried explanation and
looked at him expectantly.

Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair and paced, taking her words into
consideration. “It’s a portkey…so if the ruddy thing transports me to some desperate
Ministry worker or to Rita Skeeter’s side, I can come back fast.” His friends laughed and
Harry smiled, excitement sending bursts of adrenaline through his body. “Let’s do it.”

Hermione crossed the room, and with an imperious flick of the wand in her right hand,
made the three trunks containing all of his possessions open. Naturally, Harry sighed, his
underwear was sitting on top of one pile. Ron gaped as Hermione, with another wave,
lifted said boxers into the air and folded them neatly, shrinking them a moment later.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

Hermione looked at him in exasperation. “If Harry is correct and someone needs his help,
he may be gone for a while and will require the use of his belongings.” She said tartly.
Ron flushed then nodded. “Let me and Harry do that, love.” Her face softened at the
endearment. “You do the portkey.”

She leaned over and kissed him lingeringly on the lips before focusing on Harry.
“Anything you can keep that you won’t ever lose? That you can keep with you always?”

Harry smiled slightly and he slid his fingers over the table near his bed, lingeringly
picking up a ring. Next to the sword of Godric Gryffindor, the ring was Harry’s most
valuable possession, a gift given to him by his god father, Remus Lupin. The gold was
heavy, shining with a hidden fire. At one time it had been his father’s, had been passed
from father to son in the Potter line. It was the only real tie Harry had to his family.

Hermione sat down in Harry’s vacated chair, opening the book and finding the charm
again. “I’ll do the actual spell in the woods outside. This is a highly illegal portkey, we
don’t want the Ministry attracted here.” Harry blinked at her. While it was true that she
had a rebellious streak, it always shocked him when sensible Hermione Weasley talked
about breaking the rules.

“Are you sure?” He asked quietly. “I don’t want to risk your position here with the baby
and all.” He walked over and pressed his hand into Hermione’s, the ring between their
palms.

Hermione’s hand clenched around his, around the gold circle. “I’m sure, Harry. I won’t
do anything to get into trouble.”

She released him, the ring in her hand. Harry took a deep breath and turned to his trunks.
Ron was scowling at the pile of miniature clothing on the floor, turning his scowl to the
trunk filled with medical supplies. “So we want to get this whole thing into one trunk
then shrink the trunk so Harry can put it in his pocket or on a keychain or whatever.”

“Right.” Hermione replied absently, pouring over the book in her lap, absently twirling
the ring one finger.

Harry joined Ron by the medical supplies. Ron shook his head. “Harry, you take paranoid
to a new level even Neville can’t top.” The trunk was packed with nearly fifty bottles of
potions, and six books on the subject of bone healing, and of diagnostics.

Harry smiled sheepishly and closed the trunk, shrinking it and putting it down with the
clothing. “Yeah well. If someone really does need my help, they might need this stuff.”

Ron paused, glancing over at Hermione before looking at Harry again. “You sure you
want to do this? Is it that important?”

Harry paused, his eyes probing and far away, slightly unfocused. “Yes. I need to do this. I
don’t think I’ll be able to relax until I know.”

Ron nodded. “Sure. You’ll need your broom, and wear the invisibility cloak when you
take the portkey.”

Harry raised one eyebrow. “You expect trouble?”

Hermione sighed, looking impatient and yet lovingly exasperated at the same time.
“Harry, you’re using an illegal spell to answer a call for help you don’t even know exists.
Of course we expect trouble.”

This blunt statement made Harry laugh and he pulled both of his friends into a tight hug.
“Thank you.” He hadn’t actually expected them to understand the compulsion he was
feeling, hadn’t expected them to understand that time was of the essence. He had to
hurry.

“Was there anything else you needed, Harry?” Hermione asked, shrinking down the
contents of the second trunk and placing it neatly next to the medi kit, following by
putting the folded clothing in.

Harry glanced reflectively around the room searching for anything he had forgotten.
Seeing nothing but an almost depressingly empty room, he opened the nightstand drawer
and took out the box of pictures, of letters and of money. He placed the box reverently
down into the trunk and lowered the lid. Instantly the trunk shrunk until it was the size of
a keychain charm. Hermione efficiently slid a key ring across the ring at the top of the
trunk that normally made sliding it across a room slightly easier. The key ring connected
to a clip which he slid into place on the belt loop of his blue jeans. “Let’s go.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Right. You remember that park by Little Winging where
Harry’s family lives? There would be a good place to do this, it will be utterly deserted
and in the middle of a muggle community. We’ll disapparate the moment the spell is
completed.”

Before Ron could protest that she needed to get dressed first, she vanished. Cursing under
his breath about the logic of the female mind, Ron followed her with a loud CRACK!
Harry glanced around the room again then sighed. There was a nagging feeling in his
heart that he would never see this room or the people who once inhabited it not even a
moment ago after this was completed.

Harry rarely doubted his instincts, they had grown disturbingly accurate through his
experience, and he didn’t doubt them now. With another long look at the world he had
known and loved, Harry picked up his invisibility cloak and vanished.

0 0 0

“What do you MEAN there’s nothing we can do?” Duo Maxwell demanded of his lover
and comrade. His violet blue eyes were so dark they nearly looked black and he paced,
his waist length brown braid swinging out violently behind him with every sharp
movement. “There has to be something we can do.”

Heero Yuy withstood the rage of the braided young man with a hard look on his face.
Only a slight tension in his back and a lack of color in his face testified to his own
emotions that Duo’s outburst weren’t helping. “There isn’t. His legs are broken. The
bastards shattered every bone trying to get him to talk.”

Duo blanched at the expressionless tone in his lover’s voice. “And?”

Heero shrugged. “As far as I know he hasn’t spoken so much as a word.” Duo looked
away from Heero’s hard blue eyes. “And he won’t get the chance to when they start the
interrogation up again.”

Duo shook his head, but Heero knew that he had been understood. It didn’t mean that the
braided boy had to like what was going on. “Have the others been informed?” Damn it
hurt. It hurt like someone had torn out his heart and was now stomping on it. Duo
resumed pacing, his eyes blazing now.

“No.” Heero said coolly before he swept from the room. Duo watched his retreating back
for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest and threatening to break out through his
ribs. His hands clenched into fists and Duo allowed himself to have a moment’s
weakness, pressing his forehead against the cool wall of the safe house. His eyes closed
and he groaned as he clearly pictured the face of the young man he would never see
again.

The face was fine boned and usually grim in expression unless it was one of those rare
times when it’s owner had let his guard drop. Black eyes blazed with intensity and a fiery
inner spirit. Black hair was held back in a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. Duo had
seen the face in sleep and in battle. It was a face he knew almost as well as his own. His
heart gave another painful lurch. “Duo?”

Instantly Duo turned and the moment of pain had seemed to pass. He still looked
uncharacteristically serious, but that couldn’t be helped. The slender boy looked at him
from beneath a mop of blonde hair, blue eyes worried. “What’s wrong?”

Duo didn’t question Quatre Winner’s knowledge of his inner feelings. The blonde boy
had always been very good at reading his friends and knew instantly if there was a
change in the emotional currents. “Wufei was captured. Heero went after him.”

There was a silence as Quatre paused to consider what was not being said against what he
had felt coming from Duo in waves. His face crumpled and Duo knew that the message
had been received. “Ah.”

Duo nodded. “He says there’s nothing we can do.” It was made worse in the knowledge
that Duo would gladly go after his friend even if he DID have broken legs. The thought
of living without the 5th member of their team made him want to scream and throw things
around the room…or bathe the room in blood. He wasn’t sure which. Wufei wouldn’t
want them to come after him though, and it was that firm knowledge that stayed Duo’s
hand. They all knew the dangers of their existence and continuing fight as the peace was
routinely destroyed over and over. Interrogation was not an option. Heero’s visit would
be welcome and would be quick. Duo just wished that it wasn’t Wufei…and that it
wasn’t Heero who had to live with that stain on his soul.