A/n: I had this sitting in my documents for what feels like over two years now, but this was inspired by some fanart I saw of Harry Potter looking totally badass with a beard and the sides of his hair cut in a fade. He was older and looked every bit of the war hero.

Warnings: AU, A/B/O dynamics, OOC, and any other bits and pieces you find.

Disclaimer: I do not own TWD or Harry Potter.

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"Killers aren't always assassins. Sometimes, they don't even have blood on their hands."

― Ruta Sepetys, Salt to the Sea

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Chapter One

Shane was supposed to be an Alpha, he was supposed to be like his older brother and his old man. Strong, manly and every other title that came with the big A. So when he presented at twelve as an omega he could understand why his father had thrown a fit. The pride and joy that his father always felt suddenly turned cold, there were no more rough pats on the head, proud slaps on his back when he did well in a basketball game.

He wasn't allowed to follow his father around anymore for the fear of someone smelling him and breeding him. Or so his father had said.

Most of his friends deserted him and he was dismissed from the basketball team citing 'not wanting the team to get fouls because of body influence' as if he would moan just to distract the opposing team's players.

He couldn't blame them though. Being an Omega was nothing to be proud of, especially a male one. His own mother was a Beta, and there hadn't been an omega in the family for generations. They were weak, useless and only good for popping out children. Defenseless creatures that could destroy a family, a marriage, who could influence anyone with a sniff of their scent.

In his little town being an omega wasn't a blessing and as such he was treated as curse.

So when Shane was thirteen and his first heat crashed into him like a tidal wave on a wall of soft sand he was pushed into the basement and locked inside. He could smell his mother spraying those air fresheners as if he smelt of decay and his father could be loudly heard telling his friends that he was sick.

He had screamed for his mother for help when the pain became too much when his stomach cramped and his skin became sensitive.

His body had been foreign, it had changed and it wasn't his own any longer. He screamed for her when slick poured from his body and pooled under him, when his body trembled through his very first orgasm, then the second, fifth and twelveth.

He had been left in the basement for five days with the burning stench of air fresheners and cigar smoke that his father burned like stick essence as if to dilute his scent.

Water bottles and bread had tumbled down the stairs and even though his brain was fuzzy, numbed by the scorching need to cum again and again, to be bred.

He felt as if he was the family dog that was tossed scraps and punished when they made a mess that they had no control over of.

A day after his heat his mother had come downstairs, cleaning mask on her face and she bundled him up in his winter wear, before pulling him up the stairs and outside in the dead of night. A taxi was waiting outside, lights off and driver wearing a mask as well.

He had felt contagious, dirty. Like he had some sort of incurable disease that could be caught if they breathed in his direction. She had ran back inside to get his suitcase, handing it to the driver before closing the door as quietly as possible.

Not because she was trying to be gentle but because she didn't want the neighbors to find out that she was shipping off her youngest son in the dead of night like a dirty secret.

The moment the door was closed he stared at his mother who stared back, her pretty hazel eyes darkened by the night around them.

She was a beautiful woman, alluring in her own way with curly black hair that complimented her forever present red lips. She had been a loving mother, sweet and kind-hearted but he assumed that kindness didn't extend to her own child when his status was one of shame.

So it had been a surprise when the driver turned his back to take a call that she lunged forward and hugged him, pulling his body halfway through the car window.

Shane remembered that he had tensed up, not having been touched like that for a very long time since he presented. It took his arms several long seconds to remember what a hug was, and what it felt like to have his mother whisper that she loved him.

Over and over she repeated it and he had cried, because she was crying because he realized then and there that despite it all she still loved him. The mask that was over his nose and mouth was yanked down and she peppered his face in kisses, her lips pressing into his skin and lingering because even though he knew she loved him, she was going to let him go.

He wasn't going to see her again.

Shane watched, eyes red and nose stuffy as she pulled back, mask back in place when the driver finished the call. He stared at her, soaking up the image of his mother before the car pulled off. He twisted his body to look, to strain to see her in the faint light the street lamps gave off.

And he had been right. He never saw her again.

Sometimes he guessed that being sent to distant relatives was the best thing that had ever happened to him. They were not prejudicial and gave him enough love to make up for the past year of hell. He made new friends and made new enemies. No one cared that he was an omega seeing as how they were more than a handful in the local high school.

He cared however.

The status that was something to be celebrated in this town was something which was hated where he had lived for fourteen years. That scorn, the looks of wariness, hate, disdain and disgust he remembered them all.

The contrast was dizzying and confusing and he still didn't want it. If he could have cut it out he would have.

So he did the next best thing. He took suppressors. The over the top ones that recommended a daily dose of two so Shane took four, sometimes five when his heat was near. He didn't want to be an omega, he wanted to be strong, to be someone people could look up too and feel protected by.

He was supposed to be an Alpha and not even his biology would stop him, no matter what his father had said.

He met Rick Grimes who was an Alpha when he was sixteen, someone that wanted to be a cop so badly it was all he spoke of until the conversation was forcefully changed. So he had become a cop as well when he turned twenty.

With his body filled out after years of training in the school gym, running track, lifting weights and taking enough suppressants that his scent and heat were practically non-existent he had begun to fool even himself when he looked in the mirror.

People who didn't know him swore by the nails of their toes he had been an Alpha or at least a strong Beta and he had no intention of correcting them.

He fucked omegas and betas alike, Alpha's who couldn't get a gage on his scent saw him as one of their own and when Rick got hitched to Lori he screwed his way through the bridal party and guest list alike, always pulling out just when he was about to come with the excuse of not wanting to knot someone who wasn't his mate.

They saw him as sentimental when in reality he couldn't pop a knot even if he wished upon a star.

Then he became an uncle to little Carl who had his father's blue eyes and was the most curious child Shane had ever met. Lori who was an beta had sworn that Shane had been an omega when Carl would quickly stop crying everytime Shane held him.

Shane had laughed it off proclaiming that Carl recognised a fellow ladies man when he saw one. Baby Carl had knew better but as he grew, even that knowledge disappeared.

He and Rick had a ritual when out on patrol. Fast food, smoothies and a box of twelve donuts, six each. Rick was his best-friend even if Shane had never told him the truth about his biology, so he wondered just when he and Lori began to share secretive looks when Rick wasn't looking.

When hugs became bodies pressed too close and when 'Uncle Shane' sullied that honored name when he began to screw her.

The need to belong had always overwhelmed him but never like that. To fuck someone's wife was one thing but to fuck an Alpha's mate was a whole other universe. He had felt powerful every time their bodies joined and he screwed her until she was screaming his name into the pillow her face was pressed into.

She always begged for his knot, he always denied her.

He knew that was where the rush of power came from. He also knew that was where he began to blur the lines until the lines were erased.

When Rick got shot he didn't know what to do. His hands were stained red with his best-friends blood. His brother in all but blood. The doctor said he would survive and Lori pulled away from him to be at her husband's side.

He had been angry, so angry he came inside some strange male beta who asked what happened to his knot. He remembered hitting the man over and over again until he couldn't ask anymore questions.

The very next day the world went to shit.

Looking back he would've preferred to be brought up on charges of assault and battery compared to watching a father maul his daughter outside of the preschool.

When the hospital became overrun and the soldiers began to shoot everyone in sight both living and dead he ran back to Lori and told her Rick was dead.

She had cried and denied it, begged him to stop lying and he hadn't. She, him and Carl fled the house and sought refuge.

Lori was his again.

Being the leader of people was a rush when truthfully his biology was compromised. Omega's weren't meant to lead, following was what they were meant to do. Back in that backwater town where his father hated him and his mother hid her love for him in fear of his father, where he was weak and unwanted.

There those people needed him, they needed his strength, his smarts, his gun, and fighting skill. Hell, they needed his presence. He had the pack, the mate and the child. No matter if they rightfully belonged to his best friend.

He was contented, he was happy and he was naive.

The moment Rick stepped from that van, he could feel Lori pull away from him. Days, weeks and finally she was lost to him.

Ed suffered for it and others did too. He wanted to hurt Rick so badly it made him light-headed at times when he thought about it. Rick was taking his birthright away from him, he was stealing what he had to work for so hard without even batting an eyelash.

The group was his pack and Lori was his, Alpha's fought for lesser things and Shane was an Alpha.

Rick had been surprised by the attack and for a moment Shane had gained the upper hand. Then Rick flashed his eyes and roared and it was as if something inside of him snapped.

The next moment he found himself with a gun pointed at his head.

Rick gave him a choice. Leave or die.

So he had left with only the clothes on his back and the gun in his waist and knife in his hand.

His suppressants left behind along with everything that made him what he was supposed to be.

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Shane was running, dodging between cars and trucks, jumping over piles of rubble and stumbling through trash and the occasional carcass, he had to and he couldn't stop because if he did then he would be another stain on the cracked roads, another forgotten body that people like him would only glance at before they walked away. A stumble later and he hissed when the knees of his jeans tore away, feeling the second his skin followed.

"Fuck.."

He grunted and hopped back to his feet not taking the chance to waste precious seconds in looking back, it wouldn't matter anyway he knew that they were close by, their groans had been following him for what may have been miles; every since he had run into those men.

They had said he smelled good, like an omega, and in a blind rage, he lashed out, trigger pulling and two dead.

The gunfire and the sounds of the motorcycles had drawn the walkers out from where ever they had been lounging. Two dead men later and the rest retreated at the sight of the massive herd leaving him to either find somewhere to hide or run.

And he ran. He ran like the devil himself was behind him, but at the moment he would've taken the Devil or even fucking Freddie Kruger, he would've even taken Rick pointing a gun at his head again because to feel the bone-deep pain was preferable to the panic, and exhaustion he was feeling at the moment.

His gun was an empty shell in the band of his pants and the knife he had was as useless as the gun when it compared to over fifty of those dead shits trailing behind him. He was hungry, so hungry that his stomach had long ago stopped cramping and was just an aching void inside of him, his water had run out two days ago, no rain or clouds in sight.

If he was as religious as his old childhood community had been he'd say that God was punishing him, and if he had to be truly honest with himself he'd agree.

Leaning against an annoyingly green car that still managed to look neon despite the layers of dirt on it he wheezed because his lungs decided that they were calling it quits as well.

He couldn't run anymore and looking back he couldn't help the way his eyes burned when he saw the bloody, dirty corpses getting closer than ever, their bodies leaving smears of blood and mud on the vehicles they rubbed against, the one at the foremost front reached out to him, fingers broken in several places and jaw partially gone with a huge chunk missing from it's side.

Shane shook his head and pushed off from the green car, trembling hands tugging at the doors of the cars as he limped past them.

Locked, locked, locked, locked, locked.

"God please… " He looked back and into the yellow tinted eyes of the dead and suddenly it seemed as if he couldn't breathe, all air was gone from his lungs and he wailed pulling at the car doors in more desperation than he had ever felt before, one after the next, all locked.

He was going to die.

"Please God please… help me, help me"

His chest hurt. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his lungs to expand and take in the air he was trying to push into them. "Help me someone help me."

The rational side of his brain that hadn't gone dead with dread told him that he was having a panic attack, something that he hadn't had since he was sixteen and had met Rick for the first time after the boy had chased off Billy Anderson and his cronies that had bullied him since middle school.

"Help me! Someone help me! Please!" he jumped back from a minivan when a decomposing face lunged at the glass and he staggered back in fright.

He was going to die.

The herd was getting closer now, close enough that he could smell their rotting bodies as if they were a foot away and his nose burned making the little amount of oxygen he was getting burn on the way down as well.

His vision was blurring now and he yanked at the door of a black SUV until he heard a barely audible 'click'. Pulling it open hard enough that it smashed against the car on the other side of him Shane scrambled in and locked all four doors before pitched over gasping.

He couldn't breathe.

Gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white he coughed as if it would remove the blockage from his chest. It had been years upon years since he had one as bad as this, the fear of not being able to draw a breath, the deep urge to try and try again even though you knew nothing would come of it until you either calmed down or passed out from the lack of oxygen.

Shane coughed again and his body jerked from the force of it before he sobbed, his free hand that wasn't latched onto the wheel for dear life covered his eyes as hot tears came down and ran along his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, God I'm so sorry… I didn't… I didn't mean too…"

But he did mean to, he had meant every action he did from the moment he raced to the Grimes family house and told Lori that Rick was dead and that they had to leave now.

He had meant it when he had held the woman after she had cried loud and hard at the loss of her husband, he had meant it when he told them both he'd protect them for Rick… in place of Rick.

He'd meant it when he hadn't stopped her when she had come to him one night, nose red and eyes puffy from crying again, naked under the summer dress she had been wearing two days before. He had meant each touch, every word, every action he had done to her because he was protecting them in place of Rick. He'd meant every thrust, every grunt, every time he whispered dirty and loving things to her that night for the first time.

Then he meant it every day afterward, every orgasm he had, each time he came inside of her because soon enough, though her heart was still aching for her dead husband, he knew she meant it too.

He didn't look up when they began to pound on the glass, rubbing grubby hands on the windshield and practically shaking the SUV on both side as they tried to get him. He sobbed again, nose blocked up and eyes burning in sync with his chest. This time he coughed against his will, a wet sound that he would've grimaced at if his vision wasn't wavering now so dangerously.

"I don't want to die… please… "

Shane leaned back, his chest heaving as he wheezed and through his wet lashes he could see the ghoulish faces of the dead, deformed with only hunger written on his faces, cracked and missing nails scratching at the glass and their groans reached his ears and surrounded him. It was too loud and too hot within the car, his body was too heated and his heart felt as if it would burst from his seized chest.

Tilting over the space between the seats he landed on the carpeted flooring of the family sized SUV, a yellow and white plush toy stared back at him, it's glass eyes almost sympathetic. Shane reached over and grabbed it as he curled in on himself.

He knew he was going to pass out, maybe even die if one of them managed to break the glass and for the first time in weeks since Rick had shown him mercy and cast him from the group instead of killing him, the only act kindness he received was from the comfort of a toy from child he didn't know.

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Waking up was more painful that he thought it would be, everything seemed to hurt from his toes to his pounding head. He didn't need to check to know that he was running a fever and the enclosed heat of the car wasn't helping. Clutching the rabbit plushie to his chest he was tempted to crack open the window a bit just to breathe a bit easier but one look at the faces outside squashed that idea.

He didn't know which was worst, the hunger that had returned with a vengeance, the pain of his body from all the running, falling and beating he'd received from those asses on two wheels or the knowledge that he was going to die inside of a car surrounded by the dead while holding a child's toy. Maybe it was an all-around tie.

Shane chuckled before a laugh burst from his mouth which then dissolved into a coughing fit when saliva went down the wrong pipe, then he continued to cough until his throat hurt and his eyes watered, until it felt as if something in his chest had just tore and then he was sitting up holding onto the car seat in panic because he couldn't stop coughing.

What seemed like forever, he finally stopped and maybe it was an instinctive reaction or maybe it was because he knew he was fucked in several ways that couldn't be avoided but he broke down again.

He cried until he couldn't breathe and he gasped and wheezed and clutched at the plush toy until he couldn't remain awake any longer.

It didn't matter anyway… he was going to die.

He dreamed of better times when he and Rick were still teens and would go down to the bowling alley, how he slowly gained confidence with Rick at his side and how he got his first girlfriend at nineteen, almost twenty.

How he and Rick had dreams of being big shot FBI agents that tackled crooks to the ground before reading them their Rights but both had settled for being ordinary cops in their ordinary town.

How they had a ritual of getting both fast foods with burgers, chips, and smoothies along with twelve donuts, six apiece.

How Rick had met Lori and then he was suddenly an uncle because Rick was his brother in all but blood. How he stood at the altar as the best man as Rick and Lori smiled at each other so wide he could see the pink of their gums.

He dreamed of how he said said a speech that was both touching and funny, how he had prayed to God the day before the wedding that his best friend got the best life and marriage ever, how he wished that Rick would be blessed with more kids that could play with his own and they'd both grow into old men who'd have the same ritual even after retirement and even against the doctor's wishes.

And then the dream turned into a nightmare with him still not having any kids even if he was pushing thirty-three, with him developing feelings for his best friend's wife, with her staring at him through the crack of the door as she undressed, with him screaming for help when Rick was shot, of dead bodies rising again and devouring the living, of the world descending into chaos.

With him being happy to lead a group of people that depended on him, with Lori at his side only to leave when Rick appeared again and finally with his best friend pointing a gun at his head telling him to leave or die.

Shane jerked awake at the sound of gunfire, rapid shots that came from both sides of the SUV and he covered his head as glass rained down on him. He didn't move from his position on the ground even after the guns stopped firing and the groans of the dead had ceased.

Everything was dead silent for a long time and after a few minutes he eased himself around, the toy squeezed in his left hand as he peaked out through a shattered window to stare at two heavy duty and modified jeeps before his body went boneless.

His ears were ringing and bits of pieces of glass were digging into the fresh cuts on his knees then his palms but he would be lying if he said he could feel them. It was almost calming how it felt to have his body go numb, even if a simple touch of his neck told him just how hot of a temperature he was running.

The door behind him opened up and a part of him screamed to run, berated him on how he hadn't heard the person approach but fuck it, he couldn't move anymore. In any case, he'd rather be killed by another living man than to be eaten by a dead one.

Looking up he squinted at the figure that was undoubtedly male but whose features were blurry at best by the sun that shone behind the man.

He groaned when a hand touched his forehead, the coolness of the person's skin felt nicer than it should before the man stepped back and another took his place to drag him from the floor of the car.

Shane squeezed his eyes shut when his head was tilted up toward the sun as another pair of hands roamed his body, prying his shirt from his torso and dropping his pants from his legs.

Through his hair that had grown back after being on the road alone for weeks, around the back of his neck, down the front and back of his chest, around his ribs, between his legs and the crack of his ass then the legs.

"M'not bit" he slurred and the man holding him almost seemed to growl.

Shane would've laughed at the irony of it all, because if this was how it felt to be pat down then no wonder the people he had arrested protested so much.

If he was in his right mind then he would've fought back against the hands that had touched him and the rather large person who was holding him up but his legs were of no use since yesterday or whenever it was.

Opening his eyes was going to be an act of God and all he wanted was to go back asleep now that he knew he wasn't going to be eaten and torn apart by walkers, but the person holding him up shook him a bit until someone snapped at them to stop it.

Cool Hands returned and Shane through his fuzzy mind realized that water was being poured into his mouth only when it started to run down the sides of his lips and the cool liquid touched his scorching chest, then after a few attempts he got his throat to work before Cool Hands took the bottle away from him and brushed his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

The sun wasn't beating down on him anymore and slowly he concluded that he was lying on a car seat, despite being naked with the exceptions of his boxers for the first time in a long time Shane didn't feel angry.

Someone pressed the plushy back into his hands and he clutched it to his heated skin as the vehicle moved off, the engine powerful enough that it was a pleasant hum.

He held the toy closer because even if they were going to kill him, he couldn't deny that the kindness, all the fucking luck he was receiving all started with this yellow rabbit plushie.

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A/n: Shane's been exiled from the group, alphas, betas, omegas and all the baggage that I'll have them carry.