000

Playing With Fire

000

Harry notices some oddities to his mind and memories, gaps and misunderstandings and things that just don't add up. When everything is said and done, he goes to a Healer, and learns that Dumbledore's manipulations run a lot deeper than anyone could have imagined. Reborn/Harry.

000

I do not own Harry Potter, or Katekyo Hitman REBORN. I'm just playing in the sandbox.

000

CHAPTER ONE

Well, he'd gotten himself into a fine mess this time, hadn't he?

He sighed, fingers wrapped around the hot chocolate the waitress had brought over and stared out of the window at the passing club-goers and the ominous dark clouds he could see in the light pollution overhead. He had lost his temper again, stormed off, ended up walking for a good hour until he calmed down enough and found himself no longer in Little Whinging, but Surrey City Centre, lost amidst student pub crawls and clubbers in six inch heels and sparkly miniskirts. He'd hoped to find a café but none were open at this time of night, so he ended up ducking into a dessert parlour that advertised its opening hours until midnight every night.

The smell of fresh waffles and chocolate sauce had done a lot for calming his temper as he found himself a seat and just slumped down in place, gripping his hair by the roots as he tried to think of what to do.

They'd expelled him. They expelled him! For defending himself! And then Dumbledore, Sirius, they all act like he was some kind of misbehaving kid who shouldn't have been playing with the butter knife! Like it was his fault that he had been attacked! He'd had to take a deep breath and just close his eyes before he started grinding his teeth, or screamed. That would have been a good way to get himself thrown out.

Then Vernon told him to get out.

And, his blood boiling in his veins, his head throbbing, he gladly went. Storming away from Privet Drive, wand in hand, nothing but the clothes on his back and a handful of change, he left. And he didn't look back until he was almost three miles away down the main road into Surrey.

"Here ya go my love, one Choco Banana waffle with vanilla ice cream. Is there anything else I can get for you?" his waitress asked, far too chirpily for this time of night, Harry felt.

"No, thank you," he told her, smiling as she left him to his own devices. He had spent ten minutes staring at the menu in a daze before making his way to the counter and choosing the one that sounded the best. His hot chocolate was served to him almost immediately, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows, it was the kind that Aunt Petunia would have favoured. Bitter, dark chocolate. But it was warm, and that was all Harry cared about as he gripped the glass dessert mug it had been served to him in as he stared down at the fresh waffle topped with sliced banana and smothered in melted milk chocolate sauce, two scoops of vanilla gelato to the side, and a single bright red strawberry as a decorative garnish.

Now that it was in front of him, he wasn't sure if he wanted to eat it. It looked more than a little sickly.

"Hey babe, since you don't seem so keen on your own, let's play a fruit game... I'll pop your cherry with my banana?" a male voice suggested as someone passed him, Harry had perhaps a second to realise this person was talking to him before they were sat opposite, a tanned hand snaking out to steal the strawberry off his plate. The older boy gave him an exaggerated wink as he licked a smear of icecream off and stuck it in his mouth.

Harry stared.

That was a strawberry. Not a cherry. He got the line wrong.

A long silence stretched out between them as the other guy seemed to realise that... he wasn't eating a cherry. Harry saw him glance down at the leaves in-between his fingers and then look up at him warily to see if he'd noticed. Harry stared.

The guy slowly started turning redder and redder as he realised he'd messed up and been caught.

May as well put him out of his misery. Harry had heard worse from the twins after all.

"If you're going to steal my cherry, you're going to have to come up with a much better line than that, I'm afraid," he told the older boy dryly, watching as his eyes widened, face going full on brick red as he choked on the strawberry still in his mouth.

Harry snorted, shaking his head in faux disappointment as a sly smirk curled the corner of his mouth, "Choking on it already," he mused, "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it with... practice," he purred, smirk becoming toothy when the older boy began to cough, eyes wide, practically reinventing the colour red with his face alone. "A lot of practice," Harry added, eyebrow climbing up his forehead as he leaned back in amusement. Was this how the twins felt whenever they got their Housemates all flustered? If so, he could definitely understand why they flirted with anything that moved, this was unexpectedly entertaining in a slightly cruel way.

It didn't hurt that the older guy was... cute. And clearly not used to having someone turn his own 'lines' back on him. Probably about seventeen, maybe eighteen, he had tanned skin, short spiky black hair that put Harry in mind of a porcupine, and the faintest curl to his rather sorry attempt to grow out his own sideburns. Dark eyes, a thin straight nose, and sharp cheekbones. He wore a plain black suit, white shirt, and a black tie. He also had one of the most confused, and somewhat offended 'Bambi' expression Harry had ever seen.

God, no wonder Fred and George did this so much.

He floundered, mouth opening and closing as his eyes skittered this way and that, searching for some kind of come back to that before Harry put him out of his misery and started to laugh.

"Honestly, don't dish it if you can't take it. With reactions like that you'd be eaten alive," he scolded mirthfully as he took up his knife and fork and finally cut into his choco-banana waffle.

"Well, as long as you were the one doing the eating, I don't think I would mind so much," the older boy managed to quip, semi-glaring at him while he blushed.

Harry burst out laughing, "That's the Spirit!" he praised, "Be shameless and apologise for nothing. No matter how awful. Looks like we'll be able to make something of you yet!" he proclaimed with a chuckle as he ate the first mouthful of his waffle. Yup. Sickeningly sweet. He would probably only get half-way through this.

"And if I said I was awful in bed, would you make something of me there too?" he asked quickly, before realising his mistake and turning traffic light red in horror, "No! I didn't mean - !" he spluttered desperately while Harry roared with laughter. "Goddamnit," he cursed, dropping his head down to the table with a thunk of wounded pride, the tips of his ears positively glowing as Harry cried with laughter trying to fan the mortified teenager with a menu – only to end up hitting him by accident instead.

"You're adorable. Completely incompetent, but adorable," Harry informed him with a gasp, "I'm Harry," he introduced as the other's head snapped up in offence at being called incompetent.

"...Renato," he mumbled, the wind taken neatly out of his sails.

"Nice to meet you, and thanks. I needed that after today," he said, still chuckling helplessly as he wiped his eyes, shoulders shaking with mirth.

Renato glowered a little even as he straightened up, pleased, "Glad I could entertain," he muttered a little sourly before a sly look flickered over his face, "I can think of better things to entertain you with though," he threw out with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows even as under the table he slid an ankle up the inside of Harry's calf.

Harry's eyes widened as a fissure of something licked up his leg and tingled across his nerves, making him flinch and gasp like someone had cast an underpowered tickling charm on him. Renato's smile widened into a grin of excitement and delight when the Gryffindor jerked back and stared at him in shock.

"I – I've – had quite enough entertainment with your idea of flirting to be honest," he recovered quickly, plastering on a slightly awkward and unnerved smile onto his lips. Was that magic? He couldn't think of any magic that could be used without a wand, excepting the Animagus transformation. And he didn't think Renato was Magical, he just didn't fit with that crowd. His suit and jacket were tailored to fit a surprisingly athletic form, he wore them comfortably and correctly, he even had cufflinks and a tie-clip. Mister Weasley couldn't even fathom the use of a rubberduck, and even Fudge who arguably had the most exposure to Suit Culture what with the fact he had to liaise with the muggle Prime Minister a lot didn't know how to wear one properly (lime green pinstripes? No muggle tailor in their right mind would allow such a thing). It didn't feel harmful though, he kind of felt warm, and tingly, and more than a little bit restless, as if he'd had one too many chocolate frogs to be honest.

"You're still talking to me, so I can't have been doing too badly?" Renato asked hopefully, grinning as he snagged a finger of icecream from Harry's thus far forgotten waffle. The Gryffindor snorted and pulled the plate further away from unwanted fingers, he paid for it so he was darn well going to eat it, even if it made him queasy later.

"It was a train wreck from start to finish," Harry told him with mock-severity as he neatly cut into his waffle again and began to eat, "I've had eleven year old throw better pick-up lines my way." And he really, really had. Ginny's poetry from Lockhart's farce of a Valentine's Day event was still sung in the Common Room even now. To say nothing of the ballsy little bastards that came in with every new September, most of them encouraged by the Weasley twins to throw a pass (or thirty) his way.

Renato went quiet for a moment, and Harry glanced up, a little worried that he had gone too far with that quip and actually upset him, but instead he received another nudge to his leg and a wave of that tingly... 'fizzing' across his skin that had him flinching down into himself with a squeak. The dark haired teenager grinned at him, eyes glinting with smug satisfaction, "But they're good enough to make you all tingly inside," he pointed out wolfishly.

Harry bared his teeth at him in a grin, "With hilarity, yes," he retorted as he fought the urge to rub his hands across his arms and legs. It was like the worst case of pins and needles, the ticklish kind.

He floundered, scratching around for a comeback while trying to avoid eyecontact before, "we-well, they say the fastest way to a man's heart is to make him laugh?"

Harry snorted, "That's girls. The fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach," he informed the teenager dryly as he pointedly cut himself another piece of waffle and ate it.

The disbelieving once over he received for that made him flush a little, yes, he knew he was a frickin' stick insect that would probably snap the second someone got too handsy with him, or so Molly kept declaring, loudly, as she piled his plate high with sausages. There was a rustle of fabric and suddenly Harry was being crowded back against the window as Renato switched sides and slid into the booth on his side.

"I find it very hard to believe then, that you would be so thin. It's as if no one had attempted to get a date," he observed as a hand reached out to encircle his wrist, forefinger to thumb, with space to spare. Harry grimaced.

"Maybe none of them were good enough?" Harry suggested as he twisted his wrist free and picked up his drink.

Renato prodded his side, "Maybe your standards are too high?" he mused as Harry tried to squirm away without spilling his drink. "You're all skin and bones. Clearly you need someone to take care of you," he decided as the prodding finger laid flat against his ribs, just under his arm. Harry spluttered, offended that he needed anyone to take care of him, leaning back against the window to get some space that was rapidly vanishing as Renato leaned in nose to nose, smirking, "I can do that."

He needed to invent a Spell. One that stopped people from blushing. Because he was pretty sure his face was roughly the same colour as his Quidditch uniform right now.

"Sorry, I'm high maintenance and the life insurance is pretty killer," he quipped in response. Last thing he wanted was a muggle getting on the wrong end of a Death Eater's wand because they decided they wanted to take care of him like some stray cat they found in their backgarden. Merlin, what was he even doing? Voldemort was on the rise, and he was in a fucking dessert parlour in the middle of Surrey city centre, on his own, no guards, expelled from Hogwarts, on the run from the Ministry, flirting with a muggle.

"I'm sure I could handle it," he stated smugly, brushing the tips of their noses together.

Harry chuckled a little nervously, he needed to go. He was putting these people in danger.

"Pretty sure you couldn't," Harry assured him, eyes flicking around for both escapes and threats. He didn't need another Cedric on his hands.

"You'd be surprised by what I could handle," he said, grinning as that fizzy tingly heat burned through Harry's T-shirt to dance across his ribs. He gasped, shuddering as Renato leaned even closer, pressing him against the glass, "and what I'm willing to handle," he added, his other hand sliding up Harry's thigh, fingers dipping down just a bit too far to be in any way innocent, leaving more burning trails of tingling pins and needles.

Flirting with words was one thing, but he had always been uncomfortable with people laying hands on him, even if they weren't currently causing him any manner of pain – experience dictated that it was only a matter of time. Not even Molly was allowed to hold on to him for very long before he started squirming unhappily, like Crookshanks when trying to escape Hermione. But this was about as far as he was willing to let a stranger get away with, charming and clumsily adorable as they were. If Voldemort was able to send Dementors to Privet Drive when there were Blood Wards and Order Guards there to protect him, he didn't want to think about what would be coming for him now, in the open, without protection – or the number of people that would get hurt because of it. Hell, if any Death Eaters saw them right now, they would target Renato specifically. For his own safety, Harry needed to get away from him before he ended up like a certain Prefect.

How to do it though, he wondered as he tried to squirm away. Given how easily flustered he was... maybe he should ramp this up a bit? Get him so embarrassed that he leaves on his own? It could work. Maybe. Hopefully.

Harry caught his wandering hands as one attempted to go a little too north on his leg, and the other angled to the point of trying to tweak a nipple (Harry would headbutt him if he tried it, cute or not), a little surprised by how warm they were, and by how they were shaking a little.

He plastered on a sly smirk, one that once even had Fred turning bright crimson, even as he lifted the older teen's hands to his lips, "Your hands are trembling," he observed in a low purr even as he pressed his lips against his knuckles, idly noting how the shaking had stopped entirely, the other going completely rigid and motionless in his chair, "I don't think you should be handling anything right now. You shouldn't push yourself too hard," he scolded, putting extra emphasis on the last word.

It was almost like watching the aftermath of someone chugging a Pepper-up. At first it was a delicate shade of pink crawling up his neck to dust across his cheeks, and then it darkened into pale red, and bright red, and then dark red. Red, ReD, RED, RED, RED. All that was missing was the steam coming out of his ears, though if it happened, Harry was pretty sure he wouldn't be surprised.

It was like something had stalled in him, Harry tried not to laugh as he nudged the older teenager. How was he going to get out if he didn't move? Harry nudged him a little harder, eyebrow lifting when the other rocked a little in place, but didn't even blink – or breathe.

He could always crawl under the table he supposed...

Tyres screeched on the street outside, multiple horns tearing through the air.

Harry jumped violently, whipping around as if burnt, green eyes frantically tearing through the highstreet outside the window – men shouting at each other, clamouring students, a girl screamed.

But... no black cloaks... no white masks...

No Death Eaters.

Just... just a traffic incident. Two cars. The drivers now shouting and threatening one another, the screaming girl was being manhandled out of a near-by club by a Bouncer. The driver of the red car spat on the floor and climbed back in his car, shouting something foul at the other driver as he reversed back, and then drove around him and took a corner down towards the trainstation.

Just a traffic incident, nothing more, he told himself trying to relax, the muscle between his shoulderblades knotted with tension at the unwanted scare.

He stiffened again as he felt arms around him, and a chin rest on his shoulder. Apparently the incident outside had not only managed to startle Harry, but also jarred Renato out of his brain-stall. Sweet Morgana, just what was this guy's body temperature? It felt like he had his back pressed against a radiator.

"And what are you so nervous about?" he asked lowly, his tone playful even as he tightened his grip and his eyes flickered up and down the street with a sharpness that – reminded Harry a little unsettlingly of himself as he craned his head back in order to get a look at the older teen's face. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him because a second later he was flashing a smirk down at him, and pulling him a little more insistently into his lap, "If you're so worried about being out in the open, I have a hotel room not too far from here?" he suggested playfully.

Harry swallowed. It... It would get him out of the open, and mean less chance of collateral damage if Death Eaters really did attack. If he didn't use his Wand, the Trace couldn't find him either, meaning the Ministry couldn't track hi down. Thinking about it, the Death Eaters probably got his address from the Ministry, it would have been there, wouldn't it? If he didn't use his wand, it was probably safer for him out here where no one knew where he was, no Snape to report back to Voldemort, no Ministry to leave his location lying around. No Order to drag him back to the Dursleys and Vernon's idea of a 'reasonable disciplinary method for freaks'.

"You know what, fuck it, alright. Let's go," Harry declared firmly, pushing himself out of Renato's lap.

The teenager spluttered, "Hah? What – really?"

Harry's eyebrow shot up and, quick as a snake, he grabbed the dark eyed boy by his necktie and dragged him face to face, "What, you don't want to?" he asked coolly. After all that talk?

Renato flushed dark red as he shook his head, and then nodded very rapidly, looking distressed and confused, yet also very excited, yet confused. "Ah – Er – I do, I just, someone so clearly, err, I figured you were out of my league, uhm," he spluttered. Harry flushed, no one had ever out and out said something like that to him, with the exception of the twins who had been joking at the time.

"Well batter up. Looks like you've made it to the Super-bowl," Harry declared briskly as he dropped the tie and let Renato sit back on the booth and just digest that for a moment.

His face lit up the second it finally registered properly.

000

First chapter finito!

Young!Reborn, ahh, you're such a puppy. Not yet the suave individual we know you as. Still only a baby-hitman. Yes, Renato is what we have headcanoned Reborn's original name as – since Renato means Rebirth in Italian. XDDD

My wife is a wicked temptress who nudged me into uploading this before I wanted to (she didn't have to try hard tbh, I DID want to upload it but my better sense was saying no).