Finders, Keepers

Author’s note: Since you have all been so good (and I have been so naughty, with no updates in forever) you get a double-update today! Thank you to everyone who has already reviewed!

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Gundam Wing. I am making no money from this work of fanfiction. Also, in chapter 6, the lyrics to the song that Harry sings are also not mine—they belong to J.K. Rowling.

Summary: The war is over, and Harry has made a startling discovery: he has an older brother, who is a Muggle (most likely), who was adopted away before he was ever born. Crossover with Gundam Wing. Pairing: Heero/Harry, some Neville/Harry, Post DH (no epilogue), and Endless Waltz


Finders, Keepers
Chapter 13

Hermione's gaze shifted between her two friends. "I'm going to need more information than that," she declared, crossing her arms. A bomb? Harry was a bomb? How could she have never heard of a disease like that? She'd read several books about rare, fatal diseases. If Ron knew about it, surely it would be in one of those!

Harry bit his lip, ducking his head to avoid her eyes. She hated when he did that. It made him seem so insecure - which he was, she supposed, as a result of his upbringing. But really, he shouldn't feel like that around her! They were family, even if they weren't blood.

She turned to Ron, but he looked even worse off than Harry. His mouth hung open, his whole expression one of supreme shock. She was surprised he had been able to answer her at all.

"Well?" she commanded. "Either of you? I'm going to need more information if I'm going to find a way to fix it." And that was the crux of the matter. Harry and Ron both seemed to imply that Harry's disease was fatal, and that just wasn't acceptable. Harry couldn't die. Not now. Not when they had peace, and Voldemort was dead, and they were going to be sitting their NEWTs in a few months, once Hogwarts had been rebuilt. It just wasn't possible!

Therefore, she would have to save the day. That was the only acceptable outcome. Full stop.

"It - " Harry cut himself off, scratching his nose. He looked away. Spotting something, he shouted, "Presents! Let's look at your presents, yeah?" He headed to where Hermione had dropped the bag he'd brought, and started pulling stuff out of it.

Hermione rubbed her forehead. She wanted to tell Harry to leave it, and just explain for once, but she supposed she could understand why he didn't want to. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if she had this Genie Disease, whatever it was.

"Here," Harry said, handing her a rectangular object covered in sparkly paper. She opened it, and surprise, surprise, it was a book. It was actually one she'd been wanting for quite a while - a first edition Edison, on the origins of House Elf enslavement - and normally, she would have gone quite gaga over it. Now, however, she had more important things to worry about.

To her left, Ron opened a signed Quaffle from some Quidditch player or other - she didn't recognize the name, becoming deliberately dense whenever he talked about the sport, to better facilitate him not talking about it with her.

"Thank you," Hermione said, setting the book down on the coffee table. It was a thoughtful gift, and she would have to re-read it, at a later date. But not now. Now, she wanted answers. "Please tell me everything you know about your illness." She sat down at the couch, her posture indicating she wished for her boys to do the same.

Harry sighed and tromped over. He flopped onto the love seat, taking up the entire seat, his legs flung over the sides. Normally, she would frown at him in disapproval. She let it go, this time. "It's - it's complicated. Ron can probably explain it better than me. I mean, from what Munroe told me, purebloods tell their kids about it like it's a boogeyman that'll come eat them in their sleep."

Ron sat down beside Hermione, as carefully as she had always dreamed he would. He looked at her, and ran his hand through his hair. "It's - yeah," he sighed. "Complicated. Like Harry said."

"Just do your best. Give me a jumping point," she encouraged, laying a hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. She noticed that Ron was pointedly not looking at Harry, like he thought just seeing their friend would cause him to be infected, too. Hopefully, he was just in shock, and would get over it. Harry needed them, not their fear.

"It's not really a disease, for one," Ron said. "It's a - it's just his magic, gone bigger. I'm not sure how to explain it." He threw up his hands, and slumped back in his seat.

Harry made a choking noise, and Hermione focused back on him. "What Ron means is, my magic is no longer under my conscious will. My subconscious is running the show, now. If I want something to happen, it will. I only have to wish it."

Okay. That made the name of the disease make sense. But otherwise, she was confused. "How is that a bad thing? That sounds like it would be very good - the whole world at your fingertips and all."

"Well, yeah, it would be, if I could make it happen whenever I consciously wanted it to. But it's all. . .hindbrain, I guess? The healer was pretty vague about that. Whenever my conscious mind and my subconscious mind are in total agreement, then there is absolutely no problem with my magic. But how often does that happen, yeah?" He barked a laugh, and it was such a bitter sound, Hermione could almost cry.

"Little spells seem to go off with no problem, but bigger things. . .If there is the slightest clash between the spell I'm trying to do, and what I really want to do - say, I'm trying to clean the kitchen, but what I'm thinking about in the back of my mind is this really hot guy I've been meaning to chat up - then things can go really bad. Like, explosion bad. About the only time there is absolutely no chance for me to fuck something up, is when I'm sleeping. I can't do magic then."

"Of course you can," Hermione said automatically. Her vast amounts of knowledge had to be useful in some way. "There are accounts of wizards and witches all over the world doing magic in their sleep, from hexing their spouses to breeding magical creatures."

She watched Harry's face as she spoke, growing darker and darker with each passing word. Apparently, her information was not helpful to him. "Harry?" she said. "We'll find something. There must be some way to beat this. We're experts at digging out the impossible."

Ron leaned forward, and put a hand on her knee. "I don't think we can, this time. Merlin himself died from a side-effect of Genie Disease. If he couldn't find a solution, there's no hope for us."

Hermione shoved down the flash of irritation she felt at Ron's pessimism. If he felt that way, he could damn well wait until Harry left! If he gave up hope, then it didn't matter what she did. "Don't listen to him. We'll find something. Merlin lived thousands of years ago - there's been lots of new spells since then. Maybe even Muggle technology could help."

"I have to go." Harry said abruptly, standing up. "I - it's - don't worry about it, Hermione, okay? I've accepted it. I think I'll be okay, if I try not to use magic so much, okay? Just - don't tell anyone. Please?"

Hermione nodded at once. Of course he didn't want anyone to know. Harry hated it when people worried about him. After a few seconds, Ron hadn't agreed, so she elbowed him, until he grunted his assent.

She walked Harry to the door, desperate to try to get him to stay longer. His expression told her it would be useless. She gave him a hug before he left, feeling the bones of his spine press against her hands. "Don't be a stranger," she said. "And - I love you, Harry." She kissed him impulsively, on the cheek, before letting him go.

He waved to her as he left. She waited until he made it to the taxi waiting on the corner before she shut the door. She should have known something was up, when she saw the cab when she let him in. But how could she have known? It wasn't like this was something that happened every day, even if it seemed that stuff like this happened every day to Harry.

Once he was gone, she stormed back into the apartment, bearing down on Ron with fury in her eyes. "What the hell was that about?" she demanded, taking her fear and frustration out on her boyfriend. "Harry needs our support right now, not that, that bullshit you were spewing!" She’d cursed more in the past fifteen minutes than in the previous five months, and it felt good.

Ron looked up at her, his hands held loosely in his lap. "I - " he said, before bursting into tears, his hands coming up to cover his eyes. "I can't - I can't do that again," he cried, and Hermione took him into her arms. "I can't see him die again."

She laid her head on his shoulder, and held him as he sobbed. Her tears flowed freely, too, in a quieter way. How would they get Harry out of this?

***

As soon as Hermione brought up sleep magic, Harry knew he had to get away from his friends. He had to flee as far away as possible, and think. He thought he was going to be sick. He would literally vomit out of the taxi's window, if he thought it wouldn't fly back on him.

Really, that would be more than he deserved. He had raped Heero. Raped him with his magic, of all things. It was enough for Harry to want to disappear, to not show up to meet Duo, to just stay away from Heero and the rest of Duo's friends. Forever.

He hadn't known he could do magic whilst asleep, or in a near-sleep state, but he remembered what he'd been dreaming about before Heero bore down on him. And it hadn't been kittens and puppies and dancing in rainbows. It had been probably the most sensuous dream he had ever had. And it had been about Heero. Thinking back, real life-Heero had performed almost pitch-perfect the actions that dream-Heero had. In the exact same sequence.

How had he not seen it before? No wonder Heero didn't want anything to do with him, anymore. He was probably flabbergasted that he'd even had sex with Harry in the first place, and couldn't think of a way to let him down gently.

Merlin. He was a rapist.

"Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to tell me where you want to go?" the cab driver asked. "It doesn't really matter to me. The meter's running either way."

Harry snapped his attention to the cab driver, and rattled off the address to Neville's flat. Neville had agreed to go with him to meet his brother, and now, he needed to see Neville more than ever. He never had to worry about Neville's attraction to him being just his own out-of-control magic.

But, really, what if it was? Neville said he had wanted Harry since they attended Hogwarts together, but he never showed that until after the Battle of Hogwarts. After Harry died and came back to life. Harry could very easily be influencing him just the same as he did Heero. Had he raped Neville, just the same as he did Heero?

Maybe he shouldn't go to see Neville. By the time he made up his mind to tell the driver to take him back to his own apartment, they were pulling up to Neville's flat.

Neville lived in an apartment complex designed for half-bloods, who lived partially in the Muggle world and partially in the magical world. The look of the building was completely Muggle, and all the units were outfitted with the latest in Muggle appliances. It was also really close to Diagon Alley, and complex wards were woven into all the apartments and the building itself. Neville liked it because it meant he didn't have to live with his Gran.

Harry paid the driver and stepped out of the cab. He still had a key that would let him bypass the wards, and go straight up to Neville's apartment. He debated a moment before using it to let himself in. If Neville was "under his spell," so to speak, he would have to find out in person.

Although, Neville had never exhibited the sheer loss of control that Heero had last night. Maybe he truly was attracted to Harry? After all, Harry had never thought of being with Neville, until Neville brought it up, whereas Harry had wanted to jump Heero since first laying eyes on him.

He pushed the conundrum out of his head - for now - and knocked on Neville's door. Now, it was time to worry about his brother. Everything else could wait.

***

Heero glanced down at his watch again, the twelfth time in twenty minutes. Harry - and/or his kidnappers - was late. Their rendezvous time was almost half an hour ago.

He knew he shouldn't have listened to Wufei. He could be doing real work to get Harry back, if he'd stayed on L4 with Duo and the others. This was just a waste of his and the other Preventors' time.

He stood up and threw some money on his table, to pay for the pie and coffee he'd ordered from the owners, the only civilians they had allowed to stay in the restaurant. He'd had the rookies watching them in the back, so he knew they weren't in on the kidnapping. They were the only ones who could have tipped off the kidnappers, as the other restaurant goers had been detained in a separate facility, until they could be cleared.

"I'm going to call Duo," Heero said to Wufei as he passed by him on his way out. "Let him know we're coming back."

Wufei grabbed Heero's arm. "Wait," he asked. In any other man, it would have been a plea, but not from Wufei. If Heero chose to leave, he would stay, and do the job he thought he had to do. "Just a little while longer. He'll show."

Heero grunted in assent, removing Wufei's hand from his arm. They would stay thirty more minutes, and then send the other Preventors home. There was no need all of them being here for this.

He exited into the crisp November air, and dug his phone out of his pocket. Taking a quick look around - no one suspicious lurked just outside the restaurant - he keyed in Duo's private mobile number. Duo picked up on the first ring.

"You get anything?" he asked. His voice had lost the ice with which he'd spoken to Heero earlier, and now just rang with desperation. Heero took that to mean he was in the same boat he and Wufei were. They had nothing.

Heero shook his head, even though he hadn't turned on his vid capabilities. "No," he answered. "All we've found so far is subpar pie and potatoes."

Heero heard a faint noise, from around the corner, and on instinct, he tuned into it, deflecting everything else as noise. "And when we meet him, don't look threatening," a voice said. He couldn't quite distinguish the speaker, but the cadence of the voice sounded a lot like Harry's.

"I have to go," Heero told Duo. He hung up before Duo could protest, and hurried back into the restaurant. He nodded at Wufei on the way in, before giving the signal to the rest of the rooks placed around the restaurant.

He had just settled back at his booth, when the door dinged open. He looked up from the book he was pretending to read, to find Harry walking in with another man. The man was a stranger, and not one of the ones who had initially kidnapped him. His hair wasn't red, for one.

Heero mentally cataloged him as "Neville" - the only other name Harry had mentioned - until he gained further information. Neville held the door open for Harry, and laughed at something Harry had said while still outside, out of Heero's range of hearing.
Heero hated him on sight. And not just because of the casual way he touched Harry's back as he entered the building. Or how Harry looked at him with laughter sparkling in his eyes. No, Heero hated him for some visceral reason he would be happy to discern later.

He shifted gracefully onto his feet, pulling his gun and leveling it at Neville's forehead in one smooth motion. To the left, Wufei grabbed Harry, pulling him down to the ground, getting him out of the way before shots could be fired.

"Hands in the air!" Heero shouted, just wishing - as he rarely did - that this man would just give him one reason, just the tiniest sliver of an excuse, to shoot him dead.

The man - Neville - threw Harry a desperate look, ignoring Heero to grab for Harry. "Harry! Let him go!"

Heero tackled him, before he could reach Duo's brother. He hit him hard, and they fell to the ground together, Heero on top of this fucker who had helped take Harry away from him! From Duo, that is.

"Heero, no!" Harry yelled from where Wufei had him. Heero spared a glance for Harry. He seemed unharmed as Wufei let him up. As soon as he was free, Harry rushed to Heero, and Heero bathed in the emotion in his eyes. It was intoxicating.

It was not to last. Harry reached Heero, and instead of speaking to Heero, immediately attached himself to his kidnapper. "Neville?" he asked, holding the man's head in his hand. "Are you okay?"

Neville - of course, Heero had been correct - groaned, and opened his eyes to look at Harry. Heero did not like what he saw in them. It was too soft - too much like how he felt when he looked at Harry.

Heero clenched his fists, but did not remove himself from Neville's person. If Harry was going to have some kind of intimate moment here in the diner with his kidnapper, then he was damn well going to have to do it with Heero breathing down his neck.

"Imokay," Neville slurred, trying to rub his head. "You didn't say your brother hit that hard, though. I didn't even say anything, yet!"

Heero's blood boiled at the implication that he was Harry's brother. That was absurd! They looked nothing alike. He must have been growling, because after a moment, he became aware that Harry was looking at him oddly.

"Heero?" Harry asked, and Heero did not miss the fact that, though his hands were all over Neville, he refused to touch Heero at all. "Can you let Neville up? I think you might have broken something."

Heero grunted, and hoisted himself up. If Harry trusted this man, then he would, as well. For a given amount of "trust." He didn't take his gun off the man, as Harry helped Neville carefully climb to his feet, checking for injuries as he did so.

Heero was so invested in glaring death at Neville, that he was completely taken aback when Harry whirled on him, a scowl twisting his beautiful face into something dark. After making sure Neville was situated comfortably at the bar, Harry stalked over to Heero. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, shoving Heero's gun away from Neville.

Heero was so surprised, he actually let Harry move him. "I'm saving you," he answered. Wasn't it obvious? Harry had been kidnapped. Heero was here to get him away from the kidnappers. It was quite simple.

"I don't need to be saved." Having said that, Harry turned from him, an obvious dismissal. "I told Duo that." He sought out Wufei, and Heero felt his blood rush to his head. He didn't have the rage problems Duo seemed to, which was a good thing. Harry's nonchalance at the danger he'd been in was enough to make even Heero feel murderous.

"Where is Duo?" Harry asked Wufei, his voice vulnerable in a way it would probably never again be with Heero. Not after the way he acted this morning.

"He's not coming," Wufei answered. He spoke softly, as though talking to a wounded doe. "He thought you were. . .misinformed about your location."

"Oh." Harry sighed, his entire body slumping. Heero ached to hold him, but he had done enough damage, already. "I guess," Harry scratched the back of his head, forcing himself upright. "I guess I should have expected that. Can you -"

"I'll call him and tell him you're here," Wufei finished. "And I'll see if I can get a doctor for your friend."

Harry smiled at him, wearily, and Heero's guts clenched. "Thanks, um, for everything."

Heero wanted to see that smile directed to him. He was used to people smiling at him, after he saved them. That was the way it worked, now. He was supposed to be the good guy, not the one who beat down the good guy's friends. Even if they deserved it, like Neville.

With a huff, Heero advanced on Neville. Since the guy seemed to be one of Harry's friends, Heero should probably help him. "Look at me," he ordered the other man, holding a flashlight. He would check for a concussion, first.

Then, he would find out exactly how Harry had gotten himself away from the real kidnappers, and go hunt them down.