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Author's Note:

Alrighty, so I have the attention span of a gnat some days.

I recently discovered FFVII fandom, and I kinda went a little crazy with it. I never played the games, but I do remember watching people play them, and I watched the movie, did a little research…..annnnnd this is the result.

This more than likely won't be perfect, and will diverge from 'canon' (and it's a crossover- why should it?!), and the story will be generally twisted to fit my own sense of amusement, but if you're into that sort of thing- welcome aboard!

If you are not…well, no one is making you stay, so no need to read on and then be mean about it!

So, welcome to those who choose to come along, and hopefully this is half as entertaining for you to read as it is for me to write!

Also, I own nothing! (Except my wedding ring, it's pretty!)

Thanks to the actual creators of these amazing worlds for inspiring us and then letting us play with the characters and storylines.

A little background to make my headcannon make a little more sense, (especially since this is a crossover):

It says that Shinra started as a weapons company, then they discovered Mako power. Since Lazard is the SOLDIER Director for what seems to be the entirety of the Wutai War, and it says that he grew up in the Slums, I am going to assume that he was born sometime around 1978, since construction of the city began in 1976, and solidified Shinra's position as a global power. Going by that logic, and seeing as how it says that the company exploded in power, wealth, and influence after the discovery of Mako power, I am guessing that the discovery of Mako as a power source nearly ten years prior, so 1965-ish.

No matter how well Hojo 'engineered' him I am assuming that Sephiroth- as the Commanding General of a world-wide superpower- is about twenty-eight or so at the time of his mental breakdown.

Since 'Project G' and "Project S' were trying to out-do one another for funding, I assume that Genesis is the eldest, and then Sephiroth, and Angeal were born in the same year, with 'Project S' being declared the success. From this perspective, that means that Genesis was born in 1973, and the other two in 1974.

The Wiki says the Wutai War lasted from 1992 to 0001, and we know that Cloud was born in August 1986- most likely making him fourteen when the surrender of Wutai was announced (though he had already left Nibelheim by that point, as it says that he left in the Spring after he turned thirteen- so he departed Nibelheim in 1999).

So, given that the Nibelheim incident occurred in September of 0002, Cloud is sixteen when he and Zack (who was born in 1984, and is therefore around eighteen) are captured by Hojo.

Zack breaks them out in December of 0006, which would make Cloud twenty, and they are caught in September of 0007, which would make Cloud twenty-one when Zack is killed.

Geostigma, DeepGround, clones….oh my.

So, yeah.

That's my story and I'm deviating from it!

This was supposed to be more of a whimsical story, so there are slips between tenses. Some as purposeful, for impact, and some are just because I missed them while editing.

Update: This chapter was edited- by me, who is not great at such things- in December of 2015.

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…you must…not….longer….choice…..…hear me….please…..listen…stop…time…..brother…return….

There it was again. That irritating voice.

Harry Potter, The-Man-Who-Conquered, The Only Successful Thief of Gringotts, and the Chosen One was hearing voices.

Again.

Shoulders slumping in weariness, the young man removed his (still-hideous) glasses, carelessly tossing them on his desk as he rested his elbows on the edge of the wood and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes in a vain attempt to chase off the phantom shivers that raced down his spine and the incessant pounding in his head.

It had been nearly six months since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Harry let out a breathless, broken sound that could have been a bitter laugh or a choked sob.

It was supposed to be different after I managed to kill the bastard. Supposed to be better. I willingly walked to my death, had to deal with one last secret- one more thing that was withheld from me-, came back to finish the fight, buried the last family I had and for what? The dirt had barely settled over Fred's coffin when Ron and I had that fight. Hermione said that it was the last of the Horcrux's influence and his grief talking, but that was nearly four months ago.

It had all started barely two weeks after the Final Battle. Harry had struck down his enemy and collapsed, coming to nearly four days later in the familiar setting of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. He had barely had time to shower and eat before he had been best upon by his friends and remaining surrogate family, and after that it had been a whirlwind of damage control, funerals, and questions from all sides.

Save a damn country and they still believe in their oppressors or begin to believe that you are the oppressor.

Even though everyone had known that Voldemort was a dictator, nearly two years of negative press had taken their toll. While Kingsley Shacklebolt and his newly purged Ministry were doing their level best, there were many detractors and gainsayers. Rumors from Harry being the Next Dark Lord to rumors that he and Dumbledore had purposefully waited until the situation was hopeless before interfering were far and wide. Add to that his private (but overheard) falling out with the Weasley family and his withdrawal from the public eye and it was only a matter of time before the situation reached its breaking point.

So it was of little surprise to anyone who actually knew him that the young man had holed himself up in the home his beloved Godfather had left him.

…listen….hear me….time…..breech…..danger….don't….brother…

Oh, and then there was the voice. It had been a persistent, but negligible ache for the first few weeks. Certainly nothing like having an insane, soul-shredding maniac pounding away at your psyche, so he had ignored it with the ease of long practice and went about his duties. That fight, the loss of support, Andromeda's apprehension every time he went to see Teddy, and his own overwhelming sense of itsallmyfaultifonlyIhaddonebetterallmyfaulyallmyfaultIkilledthem-

Well.

Then there was his magic. His magic. What had made his made him special- his curse and his blessing, his light and his darkness, his love and his hate his torment and his salvation-

-it was leaving him.

He let out another breathless sound that could have been a bitter laugh or a hysterical sob and learned further forward onto his desk. His black, messy hair fell around his pale skin like a twisted halo while his hands curled into light fists, his cool knuckles soothing the heated flesh of his aching forehead, as he considered his- woefully limited- options.

Harry hadn't known who to trust when he had first realized that his magic was replenishing far slower than was natural for him. He and Ron weren't speaking by that time and while he was still welcome, the Burrow no longer felt like home. Hermione had already jetted off to Australia on her deeply important, yet personal quest to return her parents' memories.

In the end he had gone to Luna and asked her if she knew any way to evaluate the situation. She had looked at him with those knowing, silvery eyes, wand tucked behind her ear, dirty blonde hair flowing around her shoulders and in her dreamy way told him that he already knew the answer. Then she had patted him softly on the cheek and told him that green would always be their color to her, and that she loved them both. A light brush of her lips against his cheek and she had skipped off down the halls of Hogwarts, cheerily calling over her shoulder that they would always be her most cherished friends.

Harry had stared after her in bemusement before what she said had truly struck.

They?

Before he could even begin to guess or speculate the ache that had been at the back of his mind for the past two months had begun to form words for the first time. Not enough for him to make out what was being said, but enough to make his stomach ice in tormented apprehension, a thousand questions tore through his mind and an overpowering sense of panic descended upon him.

I can't do this again. I can't.

Harry had barely kept himself together long enough to make it back to Number 12, close it off from all outsiders other than himself and Kreacher, and have a proper panic attack.

He had come to around three days later on the floor of the bathroom that was attached to Regulus' old room, his hands fisted in his hair, his eyes gritty, and his throat hoarse.

He had cleaned himself and the surroundings up, gone shopping for some baby toys and gone to see Teddy.

Andromeda had only allowed him an hour and they weren't allowed to leave her sight.

He had gone back every day for two weeks, and every day she had only let him spend an hour with Teddy and she supervised.

On the fourteenth day she had told him that he was only allowed to come once every month or she would disallow him visitation altogether.

You're not welcome here either, Freak.

So he had stopped leaving the house at all.

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What Harry didn't know was that Kreacher had reacted to the distress in his Master's magic when Harry had had his panic attack and gone to Andromeda as the next member of the Black family- since Harry had reinstated her and inducted Teddy. When she taken the elf by the hand and arrived to see the tormented young man screaming on the floor of her cousin's bathroom, entirely lost- all she could think of was that Teddy was all she had left. So she had ordered Kreacher back to Hogwarts unless Harry specifically called for him.

Unfortunately, Harry had ordered Kreacher to follow Andromeda's orders as if they were Harry's own if Harry was incapacitated, and Andromeda had no idea that she had cut off the young man from the only being who could have helped him. Harry had cut off everyone from the house- no Floo, no Apparition except his own- except Kreacher, who Harry would not call since Hermione had nearly took his head off that one time he had called the little elf before she had left.

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The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but it arrives in hell all the same.

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Which leads us back to where we started with a -far, far too old- young man leaning over a desk with parchment and ink scattered around him.

Harry's dulled eyes roved over the words on the parchment he had been laboring over. The Last Will and Testament of Lord Harry James Potter-Black was written in his best, most flowing script exactly three inches from the top of the Regulation Parchment that he had specifically purchased for this endeavor.

Harry's magic was leaving him, so it wasn't a stretch to think that he was really dying this time- and even if he didn't he knew that he would never be able to distribute his assets- the last remaining pieces of his family, the proof that they had existed- as a squib or a muggle no matter how much Kingsley would fight for him.

So it was just under two hours later that saw him exiting Gringotts, everything finalized, sealed, and ready for the catalyst.

His death.

Figures the only time he would belong would be when he was gone.

He had changed enough in the last half year to not be recognized by sight, and as he looked around, listening, he couldn't make himself feel anything but sardonic amusement.

They fear that I am plotting to finish the job that Voldemort started. What a joke.

As he made his way to the Apparition Point he was surprised to be joined by someone. Tilting his head curiously, but otherwise ignoring the other who was walking casually by his side, he continued on his way. As he made it to the apparition-capable area he turned to face his unlikely companion.

"Neville."

The sandy-blonde haired Hero of Resistance was looking about as drawn as Harry felt, but the Longbottom Heir had always been physically more stalwart than the young Potter. "Harry." Came the quiet, tired reply, shoulders hunched, and hazel eyes so very, very tired. "Can you Apparate us?"

Harry gave his fellow Prophecy Child a wary, but approving nod, "Take my arm."

Neville did, and even through the fabric that separated them Harry could feel the exhaustion of the other man's resonating with his own.

A spin on the heel, a destination firmly in mind-

Time. Now. Home.

Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter were declared dead a year later.

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"This isn't Number 12." Harry remarked dryly.

"Agreed. The flowers are pretty though." Neville replied cheerily.

Two young men, one far too skinny to be healthy and one far more robust but still far from healthy stood in a field of vibrant flowers, naked as the day they were born, surrounded by an endless sea and sky of green.

At this point the nakedness was the least of their issues. Though the hues they were surrounded with were mesmerizing and breathtaking in their own right.

My little ones….how I've awaited you…..finally…..

It was a voice on a nonexistent breeze, a whisper and a shout, a thousand voices all at the same time yet none actually speaking words at all.

Both young men looked around, strangely calm- home, a joyous feeling trembled in their souls- but wary.

Neville found his voice first, "H-Hello?" He called somewhat helplessly, hoping for some sort of clarification about what the hell was going on.

Neville and Harry exchanged exasperated looks after a heartbeat passed with no response. "Well." Harry said in a voice that fell short of the nonchalant calm he was aiming for. "I doubt we've been captured by Death Eaters, if that is any comfort."

Neville snorted in amusement, but was prevented from replying as the breathless whisper rang out once again.

My children. My chosen. I've been… waiting…..you.

Neville and Harry exchanged- still so strangely calm it was freaky- a look. "E-er, yeah…about that. We were under the impression that we're the offspring of James and Lily Potter and Frank and Alice Longbottom."

Try to explain….words…hard…..

A feeling of falling, the scent of flowers and earth, a sea and sky of green and then there were dreams.

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…Nothingness….

…. The Beginning…

…The Creator's Words shaping worlds….

…. His Greatest Creations….….

…Advent of Free Will…

….Choices…

On one world the people chose to internalize their gift- the spark of Life gifted to them by their Creator….. they called it Magic...when the world was new, all could wield the Gift of the One…..

...arrogance….discord…..…war….The Fall of Pride …..

On another world, the people chose to externalize their gift- the spark of Life gifted to them by their Creator- creating the Blood of the Planet- Lifestream…..

….the sinking of a shining city into oblivion…..loss…origins forgotten….….

….…knowledge crystallized into beautiful gems…..gifts from those who had returned…..to never forget….

….an endless cycle…ages pass…..blood and death…..…..

….a Calamity….terror, destruction, heartbreak….ages pass…

…Irreparable harm…..Certain destruction…The loss of the Gift….

…..a gaping wound, unable to heal…..origins forgotten…..discord…..war.….the loss of the Gift…

…..A Hidden World discovered…..the Blood of innocents…

…the Blood of Innocents….…A Hidden Land sought…..the destruction of a floating city

…..The End of All Things…..

A plan, an agreement.

Choices and actions that changed everything.

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Neville and Harry awoke with pounding heads and aching, bleeding hearts. Slowly working themselves into sitting cross legged in the field of flowers, they gazed expectantly at the seas and skies of green.

A woman emerged, dark brown hair and pretty green eyes, wearing a red dress with a purple sash. She walked over to stand before the two young men, the children she had unknowingly condemned.

Neville and Harry stared at her with steady eyes.

"I am Ifalna. The Planet has tasked me with explaining."

The words were not spoken, but rather breathed into the area surrounding them, seeming much softer. The quality was different from the voice that had called them 'children', so they simply leaned forward and waited expectantly.

She took a deep breath, "You were shown the history of the two worlds- the one you came from and the one you are currently on your way to. The green around you is the Lifestream and you are here because only your souls are able to make the jump between worlds. The flowers are the manifestation of the Planet's power which is keeping your souls from being properly absorbed by the Lifestream. Time is…..complicated here. It does not exist and yet it does, this is a thousand years before, yet two thousand after. Originally, you would have simply been returned to Gaea without remembering Earth or your time there, however circumstances have changed-"

The green around them darkened and churned, and the young men received the impression that the Planet was angry, and Ifalna winced. Slowly she dropped to her knees in front of them, gazing down at her hands on her knees. "You were both born to Cetra- Ancients are we are called now. When the Planet glimpsed what was coming a deal was struck with Spark of Life on Earth- Gaea would send the soul of a Cetra to Earth to bear or father a child who would balance Magic, and upon their death they would be returned to Gaea to save her from destruction."

Neville and Harry looked at each other when Ifalna did not immediately continue, "But something happened?"

She nodded slowly, "The soul that Gaea sent had just enough power to make it to Earth- it was a complicated task and we could not ask the Creator for help as the ruin was of our own making- but the soul had to fight against the Calamity on the way to Earth, which had been expected, but the sheer magnitude of Black Magic the soul had to cut through to make it to the other World was unprecedented. By the time the soul recovered enough to fulfill the task, it had splintered from the strain of battle and being so far from the Lifestream, and so Lily Evans and Alice Smith were born.

While Cetra were not entirely human, they were still simply people, much like Magic users- and each had their own likes, dislikes and so on. Thus, when the soul split each woman only received part of the whole soul- however Gaea had sent was her brightest, a soul that had existed in the Lifestream for nearly an age and the soul had picked up echoes of other souls, which is why this is such a complicated situation. Alice received the part that craved being in contact with the Planet, which is where she received her love of gardening, her empathy and insight, were an echo of this. Lily received the part that couldn't stand injustice and wished to fly- some Cetra could form wings and had a deep rapport with winged animals of all kinds. Yet, your Magic, a shard of the Gift of Earth, has followed you here when it was never intended to and it will always remain with you even though it should be impossible.

This brings me to my part of the story.

I was the last pure Cetra left on Gaea- meaning I was the last to know and understand my Origins. I was meant to guide you when you returned." Ifalna, who had been looking down at her hands throughout her speech, finally looked up at the two young men, not quite meeting their eyes, "I was captured by Shinra after the Calamity had been removed from the Nothern Crater. And when I could have escaped…..well, I had fallen in love with a man, the father of my child. Then he was killed, and my daughter and I were captured, and I died escaping."

The green roiled and churned and another figure emerged. She- for the figure had breasts and hips, and multi-toned hair like freshly tilled earth, with eyes that swirled as the depths of the sea, and a tanned complexion- was wearing what seemed to be leather under armor, and seemed to be sending a sharp, piercing glance at Ifalna.

Warned you…..to run….not…..listen….condemned…fate….truth!

Ifalna flinched and shrank back from the other figure, which did not move any closer than the outer reaches of the green. Neville and Harry sat entirely still, simply trying to figure out what was happening, why it was happening, and both privately wondering when the calm would wear off so they could freak out properly.

A feeling of falling, the scent of flowers and earth, a sea and sky of green and again there were dreams.

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A young Ifalna watching her Mother perform the duties of the Watch with eager eyes, pestering the woman as to when she could begin her duties as a Watchman.

A teenage Ifalna growing angry at her Mother for refusing to allow her to teach others to hear.

Ifalna arguing and eventually leaving her mother to travel alone, firmly shunting the voice of the Planet to the deep recesses of her mind.

Traveling, teaching, laughing, learning.

Cosmo Canyon.

Secrets shared.

The voice of the Planet slowly changing- from soft pleas and gentle reminders to shouted cries and demands, then finally to sweet crooning that She was such an excellent Daughter, that She should travel, it is safe, the Calamity is encased in the thickest ice.

Her Mother's death.

Her Mother in the Lifestream.

A return to her senses.

Horror. Allherfaultdidn'tlistenhowcouldIforgetsosorry-

The Calamity released from Her prison, poisoning the minds and hearts of those who are already lost.

Despair. Anguish. Begging.

HowcanImakeitright?

Forgiveness.

Returning to her post, humbled.

Gast Faremis.

Recording her Origins.

Charming, attentive Professor Gast.

Aerith.

Hojo.

Failure.

Capture.

Escape.

Death.

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Neville and Harry awoke-once again- with pounding heads and aching, bleeding hearts.

(Because for all they were hurt- for all they were bent and bruised and tattered and weary and wounded- they were first and foremost kind. Kind hearts wrapped in diamond resolve as their souls wept for what could have been.)

Slowly working themselves into sitting cross legged in the field of flowers, they gazed expectantly at the seas and skies of green, at the figure of the Planet, of Gaea who was Minerva who was Gaea who was the Planet, at the young woman who reminded them of Hermione Granger and everything- everyone- they had fought for and left behind.

Help you…..happiness….save…..please…..love…..

Neville turned to Harry, "Well, brother, care to save another world?"

Harry snorted bemusedly. "No cupboards." He pronounced faux-seriously, a mischievous light dancing behind his eyes.

Neville grinned in delight and clapped a friendly hand on Harry's bare shoulder. "I've got you, little brother."

Harry gives the other boy the look that- Harry felt- that statement deserved. "Who said you get to be the eldest this time." He asked with a pout.

Then the green collapsed and the flowers dissolved and the boys disappeared.

The Planet sings.

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Two boys meet in secret in an orchard in a town called Banora. One is shorter and lithe with fiery red hair, bright teal-ringed viridian eyes; a temper to match the flame color of his hair and an aching desire to fly. The other is tall with dark hair, bright indigo-flecked turquoise eyes, a deep sense of integrity, and a love for growing things.

The red head grabs apples from a nearby tree and tosses one to the other as they sit in the spot that has been theirs since they were small children. The red-headed child looks at the other in bemusement and says, "Even if the morrow is barren of promises/Nothing shall forestall my return/To become the dew that quenches the land/To spare the sands, the seas, the skies/I offer thee this silent sacrifice."

The dark-haired boy looks at his friend with a wry grin and huffs out a laugh, "Always the pessimist. How about: When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end/The goddess descends from the sky/Wings of light and dark spread afar/She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting."

"How very like you, my friend, to see a beginning where I see an ending."

"To tomorrow?"

"I suppose, you ruffian. Stupid dreams."

"There is no hate, only joy/For you are beloved by the Goddess/Hero of the dawn, Healer of Worlds."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, darling." The red haired boy teases his friend as they methodically consume their apples.

The dark haired boy laughs around the chunk of apple in his mouth, tossing his friend a mischievous grin. "To mucking up the plans of power hungry, soul sucking soulless husks?" He says lightly, raising his half-eaten fruit in a salute.

"Mmm, and manipulative, senile old bastards who think they know best." The red-haired boys adds as they gently bump their respective appendages together before going back to eating their respective delicacies.

"To being able to live this time."

The two boys lock eyes for a long, intense moment before breaking out into wide, exciting grins and nodding resolutely at each other.

"Cheers." "To living life on our terms."

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