-Insert Huffy Disclaimer Here-

Preface to the text:

Don't even start. I can already hear the complaints; You've already got two stories on the go! You don't finish anything! Why are you writing crossover? What the hell is Stargate Atlantis?

Let's go back to front

-What is Stargate Atlantis?

Well if you were born before this decade you know what Stargate SG1 is. It's an epic sci fi tv series that pushed the boat on what could be shown on tv to a prime-time audience in terms of military hardware, action and eventually gore. Stargate Atlantis is the successor to that show. Five seasons and exactly 100 episodes (20 per season) of fresh, original storytelling that incorporated a new galaxy, a new cast and a new writing direction that (I believe) helped further the genre. It is without a doubt my favorite sci fi series, period.

-Why are you writing crossover?

Because I want to.

You don't finish anything!

It's a personal flaw. You aren't paying me to write, so I'm under no obligation to finish any of the stories I put on this site. That being said, I do finish things. I'm this close to finishing the development of a tabletop RPG that I have been solo building for the better part of a decade. I'm this close to finishing a novel in the same universe to be launched with the published game. I will finish the Deception series if it takes me another decade to get there. I'm a determined, stubborn and bitter asshole and I will finish that series despite the extreme dissatisfaction I have with the issues it harbors. I might end up rewriting it from scratch, but I will finish it. Isaiah Strain was a departure from my usual writing style, and it shows. I'm writers blocked, it's that simple. I've got an eight-thousand-word document on my pc for the next chapter, but it's been rewritten something like seven times. However, I will also finish that story. Besides, I've got another crossover project in the works. *wink*

-You've already got two stories on the go!

See above

Fair warning, jargon ahead

All that being said; I read a great deal of Keira Marcos' work. She has one of the best author voices I've seen in any fictional work. Outside of literary classics and, my personal favorite series, the Malazan Books of the Fallen, written by Steven Erikson. Her work on several stories within the Stargate Atlantis fandom and one scene in particular (Which I cannot find now for the life of me, she is a prolific writer and the scene is buried in one of many works) mentions how some of the IOA member states have shown concern over the Stargate program, I believe Britain was mentioned specifically and it sparked in my brain an idea of Britain being so frustrated with the situation in the Pegasus galaxy that they send Harry Fucking Potter out to deal with it. The story plot evolved from there and became something significantly different.

I use fanfiction as a testing ground for new writing styles, which is why all of my works on this site, even within the deception series, have a very different style and impact. This work is no different and you may notice changed dialogue structure, vocabulary and other changes from my previous works. The key thing to remember is I'm still human and without an editor the usual flaws in my writing still exist. I can't wrangle tenses to save myself, I often switch between Queen's English and American English for spelling based on how much effort I put into fighting my spellchecker (Armour is the correct spelling of the American Armor, but the spellcheck prefers Armor. Many words are like this). I habitually swap between points of view like a Schizophrenic with ADHD and my plot is convoluted like a snake tied in knots. For the military folks out there, or those pedantic about such things. I may abbreviate Lieutenant to Lt. in dialogue or other places. If it is followed by 'Colonel' assume the character says Lieutenant, if I simply leave it as Lt. Assume the character says, 'L T'. I often abbreviate it because writing Lieutenant is cumbersome as hell and I'm lazy, sue me.

Hopefully it's still enjoyable.

Without any further ado, may I present:

Harry Potter and the Seat of Avalon

-:-

Prologue: Seven Hundred Days

A loud screeching sound of metal on metal brought John back to consciousness with a jerk. He opened his eyes only to immediately close them again at the vicious light shining straight into them. He groaned, as he felt a hot flush of pain travel up his neck. It felt like a pinched nerve rather than bone, so he just breathed through it, gritting his teeth against the swell of heat. A cultured voice filled the room, speaking English without any kind of accent he was familiar with from Earth.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard. We last parted ways under less that fortunate circumstances, I'm very glad to remake your acquaintance."

The voice was as familiar to John as it was unwelcome. The very identity of it told him all he needed to know about his situation. He managed to grind out a response through the pain still flooding the base of his skull.

"Kolya"

.

The man chuckled in an annoyingly pleasant fashion. John grimaced at the sound.

"I understand you go by a different title now; The… 'Legate of Avalon'. Impressive, but I have to confess I preferred the sound of Lieutenant Colonel. I'm sorry by the way, about the head wound. I hadn't intended for you to take an injury, but it really couldn't be avoided. You killed my best people on Atlantis during that storm John, these ones just… aren't as good."

A head wound. That would explain the hot flush. He cracked one eye open and held it despite the light shining straight at him. He made out Kolya's distinctive outline in the illumination as the man began to speak again.

"Usually I'd just have you shot. I kill my respected enemies you see. Torture is… distasteful but you have information I need. There's rumors you see, of a new power in the galaxy. A man who can destroy the wraith ships with just his mind. Rumor has it, Atlantis wasn't destroyed by the wraith. Rumor has it… Atlantis has a new King."

John's mind raced at the implications. Either they hadn't been as careful as they thought, or they had a leak. Kolya continued before John could make heads or tails of the situation.

"Fortunately for me John, I don't have to rely on rumors anymore. I have you. You're going to tell me all about it. Your new title, your new king. All of it." Kolya's voice as silky, and he knew the man enough to know that meant torture.

John wanted to spit at the man's feet, but he figured he'd need all the hydration he could get.

"Fuck off" He said with as much vehemence as he could muster.

Kolya chuckled. "I thought you'd say that. Tell you what, we won't start today, we'll give you some time to think. I'm in no rush. We've got all the time in the galaxy John. See, I happen to know something important about you. About that ring on your hand."

John clenched his left hand involuntarily, instinctively protecting the golden band on his finger from the other man's eyes.

"I happen to know that due to your new title, you and your wife don't need food or drink, you don't age, a form of immortality. Now I'm not sure I believe it, if it is true however, I can leave you down here as long as I want, and you'll just be down here, alone. Let's start with a month, we can start more aggressive methods after that. See you soon Legate"

John hears a door open and close, and then the lights abruptly shut off. Not just the ones shining in his face, but all of them. It's pitch black and, despite his wishes to the contrary he can't move his hands or feet with them shackled firmly to the chair he's bound to. He twists, trying to see anything in the darkness but there is just… nothing. He doesn't know how big the room is or how long he has been missing from the city.

He can feel the chill of the room setting in already and twists again, trying to free himself but it is no use, he is bound too tightly. He pants from the exertion of trying to free himself and for the first time starts to regret the gift he and his wife had been offered along with the honor that frankly he'd earned being the Legate of Avalon. He'd discussed the possibility with her, that he or she would be captured. The kind of weakness, and conversely strength that the gift offered them. They couldn't be starved to death and could survive confinement indefinitely.

But now he was in that situation. Trapped, imprisoned, not only by an enemy of the crown, but by an enemy who apparently knew about his gift and could use it against him.

He flexes his toes and fingers, remembering the old exercises he developed in Afghanistan in the three-foot by three-foot pit he'd been thrown into by the Afghans. He could be here for a long damn time. In the frigid dark of the what he could only assume was a cell John swore he would avenge himself of Kolya if it was the last thing he did. He didn't need to worry about betraying the crown. Even if he hadn't been given an incredible gift and honor by his King, he had far too much stubborn loyalty for such a betrayal. Revenge however, that was on the cards.

In the dark, John grinned.

-:-

Chapter one: First Impressions

John Sheppard's first impression of his new XO was deep discomfort. There was a bizarre aura the man had, it made it uncomfortable to even look at him for too long. He had the look in his eyes which marked him intimately familiar with death. He arrived with an SA-58 battle rifle checked in as his personal weapon. It looked like it had been recently resprayed in the standard SGC black, but John knew a solo operative's weapon when he saw one.

Aside from that the man had a jagged scar on his forehead that John couldn't for the life of him figure out the origin of. It was also distinctive as hell which told him that, whatever this man did, it wasn't undercover. The newcomer strode in the direction of Weir's office while the slim figure, of who John could only assume was the man's wife, walked towards him with confidence.

"Lt. Colonel John Sheppard."

Her voice was rich with culture but sharp and direct. She was wearing the Atlantis civilian personnel uniform without the usual discomforted grimace most of the scientists did and had tied her hair back at the nape of her neck in a braid. Her eyes were surveying him sharply and he cleared his throat, he wasn't usually so terrible about looking at another man's woman.

"Yes? Potter isn't it?"

She shot him a bright smile at that which made John intensely jealous of the man currently briefing Weir.

"Yes, that's right, pleased to meet you."

She extended him her hand with a businesslike attitude that saw him shaking it before he knew really what he was doing. He stumbled over his manners a bit.

"Uh, pleased to meet you, too. Do I need to be worried about what your husband is telling Elizabeth?"

Her bright expression turned wry as she shot a fond look through the glass walled office to her husband before turning back to him.

"Not even a bit, he'll be done soon and joining us. Do you mind assembling your team somewhere private where we can talk? We've been authorized to brief the four of you, and Carson Beckett, about some extra-mission particulars. We'll handle him in private however."

As ominous and potentially world ending sentences went that one was way up there, extra mission particulars? A frown settled on his forehead and he gestured her towards the conference room as he gestured to the various members of his team around the room. The military units under his command were still eyeing the man in Weir's office with a healthy amount of trepidation. More than one of them was white knuckling their weapons. He had a reputation then.

As the five of them filed into the conference room John noticed a slight haze fall over the walls and, almost without thinking about it, he'd drawn his weapon and aimed it at the woman. The telltale snap-buzz of Ronon's pistol joined it in readiness.

"The fuck are you doing?"

The woman seemed to be utterly unconcerned with the question from the alien or the threat and simply smiled benignly from where she was sat at the side of the table, which in John's experience meant nothing good.

"Put those away we're all friends here. I can't just have anyone listening into this conversation."

John knew exactly how his team mates would feel about that and he was no better. Barely lowering his weapon after sharing an incredulous look with Teyla and a wary one with Ronon. Rodney just looked excited and impatient and his voice had the characteristic jitter of barely suppressed frenetic joy as he spoke.

"You're clearly not an ancient. You and Lt. Potter have extensive records on Earth going back more than a decade. I had heard about you rising in the scientific community before we left. But the… whatever that was that you just sealed the room with is both similar and different to Ancient telekinesis and other powers we associate with them."

He pauses to take a breath, bright eyed but somewhat red in the face.

"What, are, you?"

"Oh honestly, I was warned you don't have any patience at all, but this is ridiculous."

Before the woman could say anymore, her hard-faced husband walked into the room, vaguely distorting whatever field Hermione Potter had placed over the room.

"Love you really need to try not to vex absolutely everyone you cross paths with." He eyeballed the rest of the group. Lieutenant Harry James Potter, SAS. Good to meet you all.

Hearing the man's voice for the first time put John aback somewhat. It was cultured and rich like his wife's, but had a wry edge that most soldiers did, rather than the hard-edged tones or the silky-smooth ones of a professional killer.

His wife flicked her hair over one shoulder, looking at him with a pout.

"Well really, this poor man can't keep himself straight for two minutes."

John interrupted before this could get completely out of control.

"As… fascinating as I'm sure listening to the both of you would probably be. Do you want to explain what the hell is going on?"

He took a moment to look around his team, Ronon had an expression on his face that was somewhere between tense and bored. It appeared vaguely constipated. Teyla had a reasonably intense look on, but that was nothing new. Rodney of course looked like he was about to wet himself.

Also, nothing new.

He looked back to his new Lieutenant and frowned at the expression on the man's face, which was more nervous than any man toting a rifle that big had any right to look. He swiped a hand through incredibly messy hair, it didn't do anything to help the state of his mop. But it was an interesting nervous tic.

"Tried this once just a few minutes ago with Weir, and that didn't go amazingly well. Secrecy is hard to find on secret military bases in other galaxies, who knew."

"Get to the point" John was privately glad Ronan had asked the question. Potter was built for war, an infantry war.

"Right, sorry. Bloody hell."

With a sharp flick of one wrist a thin wooden stick shot into the man's hand.

"This is a wand."

Before John could express his disbelief, the man had flicked the wand at a cup sitting innocently on the table.

It floated into the air without any sort of hesitation or decency at all.

"I'm a wizard. My wife is a witch."

Everything might have gone very, very pear shaped then. Ronan's hand snapped back up and his weapon buzzed back to life. John's own weapon was sighted on the man a moment later before his brain even caught up with what was going on.

"Oh, none of that now. If he wanted you all dead, you'd be dead."

The woman's voice was still light, not even a note of steel in it at all. She was a civilian, but John wondered if she'd seen combat like her husband. He slowly lowered his weapon, noting that Potter, the male one, had tensed and that… wand, was in a very deliberate stance that had all the hallmarks of a martial art, or something similar.

"Okay… You're a wizard and…" He turned to the woman "You're a witch."

She hummed by way of agreement and flicked out a much more elegant looking wand than her husband. It had quite detailed scrollwork and was light brown, compared to the dark brown, almost black, of her husband's wand.

"I even have a cauldron"

Her husband chuckled, "And I have a broom."

"Really" John stated incredulously

The man openly laughed then, it was a rough sound, raw and honest.

"Yes, I have a broom."

"Where do you even keep… you know what I don't need to know. Why are you telling us this? I get the impression you're very good at keeping it a secret."

"Because not only can I levitate cups, I can do this"

He tapped himself on the head with his wand and promptly vanished. John started slightly before grinning.

"Well isn't that handy"

The disembodied voice that replied was one of the spookiest things he'd ever dealt with, including the wraith.

"Very, and that's not all, I have abilities with a full suite of battle magic that can give me an incredible edge on the battlefield. But it's useless to me if no one else knows about it. I can't very well be casting spells about the battlefield freaking everyone out. You needed to know so that I won't be hindered when I'm in the field. As a neat side bonus, we've been informed that it's an offshoot of the ATA gene, which means we should be capable of operating ancient technology."

John breathed out a heavy sigh and glanced at Ronon as Potter became visible again, the look he received back spoke volumes. He'd finally found something that impressed the alien warrior.

"You can't tell the rest of the base staff?"

Doctor Potter entered the conversation again.

"Several experiments have been made by our people to expose magic to a wider community. Individuals and small groups, cherry picked to provide the best chance of success, fine. Large groups of people, crowds, cities, countries, etc. Doesn't end well. It would be a detriment to morale on the base if we were to reveal ourselves to the group at large."

"Right." John drew the word out to about six syllables, grasping the full extent of the situation.

"How many of you are there? Is anyone else on the base magical?"

Rodney's questions had become serious now, intense, as if he'd processed the events and was now attempting to extract as much information as he could. Doctor Potter's response however was contrastingly light and calm.

"There are about a hundred million of us across the world. We weren't informed by our contact on the IOA that anyone else here is magical. Frankly I'd be quite surprised if anyone was, magicals are an incredibly insular and bigoted society worldwide. The tiny proportion of magicals that are also scientifically proficient would find leaving the planet unpalatable. We were only contacted for this mission because of… my husband's unique experiences and relationship with both the magical and mundane, excuse me, normal, governments."

"So, no more secret badass wizards running around?"

"Or witches, no" Doctor Potter agreed

"Damn." Rodney sounded genuinely disappointed.

There was a pause while the Atlantis veterans absorbed that information. A thought struck John, so he posed the question.

"So, what are you doing here then? I can't imagine it's just to propagate magic through Pegasus."

The Lieutenant snorted.

"Hermione was tapped for a position on your science team, but they hesitated to send her an invitation because of me. Usually they don't select married folks for off-world work. When the SGC caught wind of your problem with the indigenous folk here. Wraith you call them?"

John nodded, listening attentively.

"Well I'm not just a wet work operative for the SAS, before Hermione and I severed ties with the magical world I was England's active warmage. Which means I was part of a team responsible for putting down magical threats to the world at large. I'm here to evaluate the threat of the Wraith to Earth, and Hermione's official job is to determine if they're a magical species, or just alien. If I determine reinforcements are needed for a full extermination Hermione and I will expend effort on a magical endeavor to create a magical means of transportation back to Earth so that my old team can come through to Terminate the Wraith"

"Terminating the Wraith? Have you got any idea how many there are?"

Rodney's indignant query echoed John's unspoken questions.

"Few hundred million, maybe a billion or two. They're a spacefaring civilization that doesn't set down roots on planets, choosing to instead conquer and raid for supplies. Much like the Mongols, Huns, Vikings of earth. Or, if you like, vampires."

"Vampires? Vampires exist?"

Doctor Potter nodded earnestly.

"Oh yes, there are a whole host of magical species, dragons, unicorns, manticores, vampires, werewolves. The whole lot really."

John let out a surprised huff and the male Potter capitalized on the pause in the conversation.

"So, yes, vampires. Used to be there were about a hundred and fifty thousand vampires in Europe. Back in two thousand and three, there was a huge upswell in their numbers and one of the larger covens had started to seriously recruit from the mundane population. They don't reproduce in the same way the wraith does. I understand the parasites in this galaxy reproduce with eggs. Regardless they had become a serious threat to the average person. So, I and four other warmages were tasked with culling the population, reducing them back to the tolerable levels the ICW charter allowed them to remain at."

John and Ronon both blinked at the numbers at play.

"Five of you?"

Potter shrugged, "It's a talent, anyway, over the course of the next year and a half we used surgical strikes on coven leaders to destabilize the relatively brainless foot soldiers and then use airborne toxins to slaughter them wholesale. By January of this year we cut their population down to only eleven thousand."

John shared a look with Ronon and saw the same incredulous disbelief mirrored in the other man's eyes. Almost involuntarily he looked at Potter's wife and the woman met his stare evenly.

"I'm not ashamed of my husband's war record Lt. Colonel, he was righteous and just in how he dealt with those monsters. I developed the magical toxin he used to wipe them out."

Rodney let out a bizarre kind of squeaking sound and the other three men in the room looked at him oddly. John looked back to the soldier.

"It was a war then?"

Potter shrugged; "Of a sort, they waged war on the innocent people of Europe, mostly non-magical folk like you. So, we took the war to them and won, with the minimum of effort required to do so."

His gaze hardened a little and Sheppard wondered if the man had ambition, "Please understand sir, I'm here nominally under your command. But my contact in the IOA made it clear that my primary objective was the complete reduction of the wraith presence in this galaxy to a non-threat status. I've been authorized to dispense WMD levels of sorcery if needed to achieve this objective."

"What does that entail?"

The man coughed in what John could only imagine was discomfort because his wife sent him a sympathetic look and answered for him.

"It is well within my husband's ability to create a madness within a hive via direct contact with a drone which will incite infighting between that hive and another. If you can get him into contact with the drones of each hive, we estimate we can have the wraith wiped out within two years."

John looked at Ronon again, then at Teyla, both of them had a sort of ravenous hunger in their eyes that John had never seen before. He supposed it was a product of being raised in a galaxy dominated by the wraith. For the first time Teyla spoke up.

"You can do this? You are certain?"

Potter inclined his head to her in a solemn fashion.

"Yes ma'am"

"Potter"

John was a little taken aback by Ronon's tone. It was a tone the Satedan usually reserved for him, it was respect.

The tall Englishman turned to the Satedan and looked him in the eye, Ronon walked forwards a couple of paces and held out one arm in the universal gesture. Potter stepped to meet him and clasped their forearms together in a motion that was as familiar to the man as breathing.

He wouldn't know it for a few years, but John had just seen the beginnings of a friendship, one that would heal a deep wound for both men.

-:-

The door to Carson Beckett's lab opened with the same rumbling hiss that it always did, but the aura of power that walked through the door brought back memories he never knew he'd have to bring up again. Without turning to the newcomers, he greeted them.

"Good morning Lt. Potter, Doctor Potter. If you could just sit over there on the beds, I'll be with you in a minute."

The fact that both sets of footsteps stopped abruptly made him smile to himself before turning around to greet them properly.

"Well off you go, I've got to get this report written before lunch and I wasn't expecting you until after dinner."

The two shared a look and Carson chuckled as he turned back around to the pad, finishing his work quickly before facing the two newest members of the expedition once again.

"Right, let's get this out of the way first. I know who the two of you are. You went to school with my boy."

The two glanced at each other, bemused, before Hermione responded.

"Neither of us remember a Beckett in our classes at Sapienza Mr. Beckett."

He chuckled again at their looks.

"Ah lass no, not in Rome, the son you went to school with was Seamus Finnigan, you went to Hogwarts with him."

Harry looked at the man with a sharper gaze and Carson felt the abrupt urge to look down but resisted it.

"The difference in last names?"

Carson sighed and sat in his office chair, looking up at them with a frown.

"He took his mother's name while in the wizarding world. Easier for him to move around with the legacy of a magical family backing him up. He's still Seamus Beckett in the regular world, just like his older brother Fergus. His mother died during the war and… well I couldn't bear to stay. My boys are both grown men, they move about the world with purpose and I keep a track of them. But they don't need me fouling up their lives."

He clears his throat abruptly, feeling a sting start to build behind his eyes and angrily brushing it away.

"Anyway, that's how I know who the two of you are, and I must say, thank you for all you did. Both of you."

The two look a little gob smacked but nod at him, Harry recovers first and flicks a document into his hands from out of thin air. It made him smile wistfully at memories of a happier time. Beckett takes the document with one hand which sagged a little at the unexpected weight of it. It was rather heavier than it looked.

"Lad, what have you got for me here?"

"Those are our medical records Dr Beckett; you should have our mundane records in a separate file. Truth be told our folk don't get any mundane illnesses, which I'm sure you know already. But we don't know how the diseases of this galaxy will affect us, as many of them seem tailored specifically to attack the ATA gene, which we seem to have, or at least our magic mimics it."

That brought him up short.

"Are you telling me lad that you have the ATA gene? Is it a function of your magical genes or do you both have the ATA as well by coincidence?"

Doctor Potter answered him rather than the Lieutenant, which he figured was about right going on what he'd heard of them from his son's telling of it.

"We're unsure Dr. Beckett, we've not had a full suite of genetic testing, we found out when some of the ancient tech at the SGC woke up for us."

His hands were trembling as he placed them flat on the table, suddenly awash with ideas and thoughts.

"Do you mind, the two of you, if I do a workup and see what I can find? If magicals as a whole can operate ancient technology, we might have overlooked a vast asset the SGC could utilize for the expedition."

Hermione bites her lip and glances at her husband who has a hard look on his face that makes Carson gulp. Suddenly reminded of the vast list of accomplishments this man has under his belt, not least of which the kill count. After several moments of silence as the man sizes him up with a calculating stare. Eventually the other man nods and Beckett lets out a relieved breath.

"Well then, I'll need some blood from both of you, and I know how important that is for the both of you, but I need you to remember that you're the only two magicals on the base. No one here can abuse your trust with your blood in a magical way, and I will keep it locked up in my office at all times. No one will ever know that I have it."

The two share another look and they move at the same time; Hermione moving her hand towards her husband's wrist, a collection vial materializing in her grip just in time for it to catch a stream of crimson fluid running from a cut in the crook of Harry's arm where a utilitarian silver knife is pressed against the skin. She caps it with a dainty flick of one wrist before floating it over to Carson who collects it from the air without thinking. The male Potter then presses the knife carefully to his wife's arm even as his own cut closes under her magical ministration. She catches the stream of her own blood with another vial and floats it over to the desk as Harry seals her wound for her. The skin knitting back together just like his own had. The two locked eyes during the entire process.

A little taken aback by the intimacy and synchronicity of the moment Carson stands and immediately locks both vials in a secure cabinet, unlabeled, and turns back to the two who're focused on him like hawks.

"Is there anything else you two?"

Harry stood from his seat and helped his wife down to the floor. "No Dr. Beckett, you've been very accommodating. Should we set a date now for checkups?"

Carson shook his head.

"No, no, I take it you both have your magical needs well in hand. You've been away from that world long enough I figure you've sorted things on a personal level."

Both Potters gave him a nod.

"Then only after each time you go through the gate. We'll go from there if anything crops up."

Hermione smiled warmly at him.

"Thank you, Dr. Beckett."

He smiled back at her, utterly unable to resist. The dry voice of the male Potter made him chuckle.

"Keep your Scottishness to yourself Beckett. I'll end you."

The amusement buried in the pseudo threat, perhaps borne from Dr. Potter's halfhearted slap of the man's arm, was so reminiscent of days past he couldn't help turning the same smile on the other man.

"I'm glad I met the both of you, let me look through these notes you've given me before I get back to you about it. I'll give you a call on the radio in a couple of days when I know more."

-:-

The repeated cracking thuds of the man's battle-rifle from the east pier set Rodney's teeth on edge. It wasn't the sound of gunfire on its own. Plenty of the airmen and marines practiced on the piers in open air, but they all had P90's and they all did so in a sporadic hobbyist fashion. When they wanted to train, they did so indoors. Potter was simply… relentless. He was there every morning, every night, shooting targets he'd had the engineering team set up.

The military personnel on the city were all SGC, so they all operated in familiar ways that Rodney was accustomed to, even John who'd been force recon before now. But Potter was an entirely different beast. It'd taken minutes for Rodney to get access to the man's file through the central server. Sheppard had been given a copy as part of military procedure and it made for grim reading. Years of wet work and black operations and that was just on their side of the divide.

So, when Rodney heard the man fire round after round out over the water in a relentless cadence, he knew Potter was the kind of person who could do that to a man without a second thought. He'd seen a similar nature in Sheppard, but not to the same extent. The military commander of the city still had a first instinct not to pull the trigger. Ronon was a little different, the man was ruthless and brutal, but only with the wraith, or those threatening anyone he cared about. Rodney suspected Potter wouldn't flinch when dealing with anyone in his sights. It chilled him to realize that, despite having military on the city, they'd never had a killer before.

It chilled him right to the bone.

How could the man be so cold when the wife was so warm?

"Rodney, explain this line of ancient to me I haven't quite caught up with the language yet."

The physicist turned to Hermione Potter who was poring over a diagram of a Jumper. As far as Rodney could tell the woman was a true English rose. Beautiful and elegant in ways no American (or Canadian) woman could hope to match. She glanced at him with eyes bright with the excitement of academic endeavor and he felt his throat close up.

He had a crush.

Fuck.

-:-

"Specialist Dex"

Ronon caught the arm of the airman he was fighting in a lock and threw the man to the ground, pinning him, before turning to look at Potter who had just walked in the door. The man was wearing shin length trousers of a kind Ronon had never seen before, made of a kind of supple leather, and a close-fitting sleeveless vest of similar material, but harder.

The Satedan moved over to the man and locked forearms with him. They shared a brief moment of silence before Ronon answered.

"You're late."

Potter chuckled and Ronon watched the man's eyes, he'd known a lot of soldiers, and runners, over the years. He'd never known a soldier who could laugh without his eyes lighting up with the grim humor of it.

Except for Ronon himself.

They separated and Potter answered the accusation.

"How can I be late if we'd never agreed to meet?"

Ronon scoffs, "Ah, we were always going to meet for this Potter. You're a fighter, I'm a fighter. We need to size each other up."

The Satedan swaggers over to the other end of the mats while the marines and airmen form a ring around the pair, bets flying fast. Ronon is a veritable war machine, built for battle by near endless years of running and fighting. Potter on the other hand has been a soldier since he was a child, barely into his teens. It shows in the easy grace with which he moves, where Ronon is like a berserker, all explosive energy and violence. Potter is comparable to an assassin, restrained power and grace.

Ronon tenses briefly before launching forwards with an explosive punch to the man's solar plexus. He was fast, incredibly fast and he knew it. He figured the man would have time to block or parry the strike. But not slide out of the way completely. He had a brief instant of warning before Potter's punch struck him under the armpit and pain stabbed into his body like a knife. He staggered backwards one hand coming up to ward off a follow up blow but there was none. He let out a sound like a wounded animal as his arm went limp, spasming as if the nerves had been severed.

Potter looked calm as he circled Ronon and he realized he'd made a mistake. He'd treated Potter like another one of the marines, fast and skilled, but not deadly. This wasn't a man who had been trained to fight, but to kill. Ronon shook his arm out, slowly regaining feeling. He moved in again and launched a combination strike, light and probing to see where the man's defenses lay. Potter stepped backwards out of the way, swaying around the strikes like a snake before returning with his own combination. Three jabs that looked as light as feathers with their speed and ease, but each one struck Ronon before he could react, one hammering into an extended inner elbow. Another into his kidneys, just below the ribs, and another into the same point he had struck before. Abruptly Ronon's entire right side above the waist went numb and he grunted with the pain of it. Sheppard fought like this, merciless and brutal, aiming to disable and eliminate instead of wounding or humiliating.

But Sheppard was not this fast.

Ronon stepped backwards, shaking out that arm again and it slowly regained warmth. But the pain still blossomed across his chest like fire.

"You hit like a fucking horse Potter."

"I was trained to hit like a horse Specialist Dex."

"After you've hit me like that, call me Ronon."

"Harry then."

They circled again and Ronon moved forwards the same way, launching a combination but feinting on the last blow, staggering the timing just enough that as Potter began to naturally sway into a striking position his shoulder moved into the path of the punch. The stockier man's eyes narrowed as the blow connected and, instead of moving with the punch like most fighters, deadening the blow. Potter moved through it and Ronon had never felt the like, it was like striking a brick wall. He felt his knuckles crunch, but it wasn't against bone, the skin didn't even flex under the impact. The return blow from the other man hit him hard in the other kidney and he knew he'd be pissing blood for a while as he crumpled backwards, all the fight gone out of him as fire flooded up through his chest. Gasping for breath he lay on the mat and groaned out the pain.

"Fuck Potter this is sparring."

He saw the man frown, then grin.

"I'll just have to toughen you up. Right, let's get you to Beckett"

Ronon grinned in return and laughed, ignoring the blossom of pain from the action. Potter laughed with him as he helped him up. Ronon did note one thing though.

Potter's eyes didn't laugh.

-:-

"Teyla, could I have a moment?"

Teyla Emmagan turned on the spot and smiled warmly at Hermione Potter as the British woman walked towards her.

"Doctor Potter, of course. I was just about to take tea; would you join me?"

The other woman smiled at her with such earnest warmth that Teyla couldn't help but let that warm smile transform into a grin.

"Teyla, I could drink tea all day long. Of course, I'll join you. And please, call me Hermione."

Telya observed the younger woman as they settled around a table on the balcony of her rooms, overlooking the North pier. Hermione takes a sip of the tea and frowns prettily at it.

"It's not quite Ceylon, but the taste is quite lovely. Where does it come from?"

Teyla ducks her head, unexpectedly warmed by the unintended compliment.

"It's a blend I've been working on for many years. It uses certain herbs found all over the galaxy, I've been able to source most of them on the mainland."

Even she finishes talking, reliable as the dawn, shots begin to echo out from the east pier. Teyla cuts a look to Doctor Potter only to see the woman with a sad wistful look on her face. Teyla reaches out and cups the woman's hand gently.

"Your husband, he is a hard man, but he wasn't always. How long has he been this way?"

Hermione's hands tremble, but Teyla can't tell what emotion is behind it. The woman's face is blank, and one hand returns the ceramic teacup to the table. Her voice is cold as she speaks, a far cry from the enthusiastic warmth she usually portrays.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

Teyla couldn't see the woman's eyes, turned to the pier as she was, and she suddenly felt out of her depth with the young woman. She stumbled over her words as they came out in a rush.

"When Ronon got here, at first he was like Lt. Potter. Distant, rough around the edges, but he opened up to us a bit more maybe a month ago. We've been seeing more and more of the man he might have been on Sateda coming out. Lt. Potter used to have a warmth about him as well, I'm sure a lovely young woman like you wouldn't love him otherwise."

The paired rings on Hermione's finger rattled against the metal table with her trembling. Her voice was filled with a raw emotion filtered through the cold facade.

"He came here to commit a genocide Teyla. I was tapped for this mission because of my science. But when the IOA figured out who I was they bypassed me and went straight for my husband."

She stopped, taking a shaky breath and Teyla squeezed her hand gently. Hermione smiled warmly at her and Teyla realized with a spike of understanding the truth of the situation.

"Harry is an expert at what he does Teyla. The magical world, our home, pushed him out because after the war… after what Harry did. They couldn't bear to look at him. I mentioned his war record, but I think none of you realize that Harry has been at war since he was fourteen years old. Almost half his life now, he's killed more men and women than I've ever met. Never mind the creatures he's destroyed. The war broke my husband. I hardly ever see the boy I fell in love with anymore, fortunately I love the man just as much as I loved the boy."

Hermione looks straight at Teyla with eyes so sharp Teyla feels like her soul is being measured and weighed.

"My husband does not mistreat me Teyla. He loves me with his whole being, I am his shelter from the world, and he is my guardian from the same. I'll thank you never to make that mistake again."

Stricken Teyla squeezes the younger woman's hand again and apologizes with an earnest tone.

"I'm sorry Dr. Potter, Hermione. I never meant… men in this galaxy are loud and, except when in battle, joyful. Even the men from your world, while disciplined, show warmth. Your husband…"

"Is cold."

The voice that came from the young woman was now understanding and Teyla let out a heavy breath of relief. She takes a sip of the tea, still warm, and eyes the woman with a relaxed air as Hermione seems to deflate, her hands going to her lap.

"My husband and I lead largely separate lives now, professionally at any rate, but it wasn't always like that. Before we left the wizarding world we were joined at the hip, I've known him since I was eleven years old. He's saved my life at least once for every year I've been alive. We've shared… we've shared most of our lives together Teyla. He's not just my husband, he's my best friend. Has been since before I knew how important such things were. There's been, since I knew him, people who tried to demonize him, paint him as the next terror of the world. Because of his power, war record, his will."

Teyla frowned at that and couldn't help but interrupt.

"His power?"

The younger woman laughs and it's like a veil is lifted off her. Instead of the thirty something professional woman she normally appears to be, she seems in that moment to barely be out of her teens such youth flows from her expression.

"I forget sometimes how different it is talking to mundanes. You have no concept of the people walking among you sometimes."

Teyla sits back at that and Hermione's face falls to contrition.

"I'm sorry, that sounded dreadful. I only mean that it's refreshing not to have you already assume to know everything about my husband and me. We're, unfortunately, rather famous in our world."

Teyla smiles and inclines her head. Hermione nods along at the prompting.

"We're not all made equal, witches and wizards. Power ebbs and flows through bloodlines and various astrological events. My Harry was born under an auspicious moon, to two incredibly powerful parents. His father the most powerful son of an ancient line, his mother a powerful witch born to two mundanes; A first-generation witch of uncommon skill. As a result, well, my Harry could crack the planet in two."

Frankly Teyla was a little stunned, not even in the oldest histories of the ancestors was such power mentioned. She knew such things were alien to the… mundane, folk who had come from Earth. They would have leveraged such power already to defeat the wraith. She had to know;

"Why are you telling me this?"

Hermione huffed a bit and looked out over the bay; her eyes hooded.

"There's scarce few women on this expedition. Maybe thirty out of the hundred something expedition members. Half of those are military, the rest are scientists. Frankly Teyla I can't stand scientists. Dr. McKay, perfect example, I've been on the city for all of ten minutes and he's already developed a crush on me."

She threw up her hands in disgust and Teyla couldn't help but smile. The two magicals had been on the city for over a week now, acclimating and, for Harry, training with the SGC airmen and the Marines on loan from the Navy, but it was clear they hadn't truly settled in yet.

"You miss someone from Earth."

"We had some friends who followed us out of England, that's the country where we lived. Harry's best man, who stood up with him at our wedding, he died in the war, and another friend of ours who, well he wasn't a friend in the end at all. But there were two other witches who followed us from England, sweet Luna Lovegood" Hermione took a shuddery breath, "And Ginny Weasley, the most belligerent woman I think I've ever met. They were my friends, Luna followed me into science, but couldn't stick with it, too many rules for her carefree mind. She ended up spending most of her time writing, she followed Harry's battalion around as a war reporter, showing people the good he was doing, the people and villages he and they saved. Ginny… She joined the military with Harry. Said he needed a friend in the service who knew."

She took a breath and turned back towards the table, waving her hand over the cup of tea absently and steam began to rise from its surface. Teyla found magic (or sorcery as Hermione's husband most often called it), absolutely baffling. It seemed to have no rules or restrictions at all, just imagination and power. Both fascinating and terrifying really.

"Anyway, once Harry started wet work they couldn't follow. Luna because no one knew where Harry was operating and, really, he wasn't doing much obvious good anymore, just… killing."

There was genuine distaste in the young woman's voice now and Teyla wondered how the discussion between them had gone when Harry changed professions.

"And Ginny couldn't bring herself to do that kind of work. Said she didn't have the same steel that Harry did. So, they both joined me in Rome, that's a city in another country on Earth named Italy. They both did magical research with me on weekends, of course I worked in my lab during the week and Ginny became private security for the holdings group that provided funding for my research. Luna just… well she became something of a therapist for all of us, but mostly Harry. He needed it more and more as time went by."

Hermione trailed off and took a sip of her still steaming coffee, making a soft sound of appreciation at the taste. Teyla gave her a moment, they'd all underestimated this soft-spoken bright-eyed scientist. There was steel under the light exterior. Eventually the Earth woman finished her thought.

"Those two. We both miss them like lost limbs."

Teyla still felt a little lost. She was used to dealing with Rodney who spouted words like bullets from a P90, but always on target. Hermione's chatter was somewhat more rambling, and they had strayed far from the initial topic. Fortunately, it seemed Hermione had also realized they had rambled somewhat.

"Point being, we've come here to the other side of… well the universe really. To prosecute a war. We left our only friends behind; we couldn't even really tell them where we were going. Leaving Luna behind especially has been hard for him. She had a way of understanding him and putting things in perspective that I've never been able to do. I love him, and he's my best friend, but sometimes his moods are impossible to pierce. That's why he can seem cold, he doesn't want to burden new friends with his troubles."

The younger woman put her cup down and Teyla heard the earthenware rattle as she did so, the young woman's hands were trembling again. She lets the moment stretch, unwilling to drag Hermione from her thoughts. They simply sit in silence for what feels like an hour but can't have been more than ten minutes or so. Eventually she gently asks.

"I can't imagine you sought me out for this Hermione. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

The young woman laughed gaily, and it was such an abrupt joyful sound that Teyla couldn't help but smile in a bit of mirth herself. Hermione's voice was of a quality Teyla had never encountered, but warm and serious while having a light tone that spoke of genuine happiness.

"Here's me pouring out my woes. You have quite a way about you Teyla that I should feel so comfortable." She hummed to herself merrily. "Maybe it's the tea. No, I came to ask if you wouldn't mind talking to me about your people. I'm trying to learn about whether the Ancients were actually magic users, or if it's an entirely different genetic mutation. I'm starting with histories of as many of the peoples of this galaxy as I can assemble."

Teyla thought for a moment before giving a slight nod, and began to speak;

"It's something you'll note often with the peoples of this galaxy. I understand your people measure time from a fixed point in your history, we measure ours from the last culling. It is such a dominant part of our culture that all things surround it…"

-:-

"Dr McKay, could I have a word?"

Rodney jumped violently at the sound of Lt. Potter's voice; the man was as quiet as a snake. He whipped about to see the younger man standing in the entrance to Rodney's lab, a curious expression on his face. Stuttering a bit Rodney replies to the intimidating man.

"Yes, yes of course, if you'd just, give me one second."

"Dr McKay. Is something wrong?"

The asshole's voice was 'amused' as though he found Rodney's, admittedly obvious, nerves funny. Vaguely fuming, and moving at supersonic speeds towards furious, he turned back towards the man standing in the doorway only to abruptly remember why he was petrified of this man. "No, no trouble at all. I'll just be a moment."

His hands flickered across the keyboard in rapid movements, quickly setting off another round of simulations relating to the power output of the generators of the city. When he was done, he turned back towards the Brit still standing in the doorway and gestured brusquely inside.

"Well do come in. What did you…? Well that's to say what can I do to help?"

Potter strolled inside with the same kind of caged energy that Sheppard always had. As if he was always half a step from launching into some kind of attack or evasion. The big difference between them, if Rodney was forced to note one, was that where John somehow managed to look casual at the same time as lethal. Potter just looked lethal.

"I've got many, many questions about the Stargate. They didn't have time to brief us extensively at Cheyenne mountain so I'm rather under-informed at the moment." Potter says in that infuriatingly well cultured voice. It was hard to hate someone with a voice like that.

Wait… Hate? Where had that come from?

"Um yes, I mean, of course. Yes. What do you want to know?" He cursed his nerves.

Potter shot him an odd look before answering.

"Specifically, I was curious about the whether Stargate command, or you folks here on the city have used game theory to model attack patterns the wraith take through the gate and where they're likely to strike next. More specifically, can we chart a course to prevent their taking action by striking specific TCT's?"

A little taken aback by the man's line of questioning, Rodney floundered for a second as he looked for an appropriate response.

"Don't you want to, you know, know about how it works?"

Potter's expression was stuck somewhere between impatient and understanding. "The gate? I know full well how it works. My people have devices similar to this we use for everyday travel. The Stargate is just a scientific version of the same thing with a lot more power."

"Huh" That was about as elegant as Rodney thought he could be at that moment; he was used to the marines and airmen being baffled by the Stargate. Some of them had to understand how it worked, at least at a surface level, before they could put aside the instinct that told them it was wrong. After a moment of thought Rodney focused on the man's actual question.

"Well, sort of. The biggest problem is we have very little idea how they pick their targets. Some planets get culled, that's the term the natives of this galaxy use for being attacked, on a regular basis, only to go for long periods of time with no activity from the wraith. Others have extremely sporadic and random contact, going centuries, or only months, without contact."

Potter nods thoughtfully and leans back on the chair, hitching one ankle up on his other knee. "Is there any chance of tracking the activity of a single hive to determine their attack locations? I understand your people here don't have the resources to stop every attack. But could we ambush one and plant a tracker?"

Wagging one finger at the man Rodney moves over to a shelf and collects one of the ancient doodads he has stashed there. "This is the best we've got. We can get decent range out of them with subspace communication. But decent range out here is about ten systems. If they head through a gate, ninety percent of the galaxy is out of range of the best thing the ancients could put together. It's just not practical."

Potter grins, it's a jovial expression and for once Rodney can't detect anything deeper in the man's face, it's just genuine joy.

"Oh, Hermione will be furious."

Rodney splutters, all his previous misgivings suddenly flooding back even as the other man begins to chuckle.

"Why will, Hermione, be furious?" His voice was almost a squeak. Potter's chuckles rumble to a stop and he fixes Rodney with another odd look. After a moment the man's face clears again and he shrugs.

"She hates divination."

Somehow Rodney knows he's going to be asking these people more questions than the other way around. It's a bizarre situation for him. He also has the sneaking suspicion he judged the other man far too hastily, and a bead of guilt wells up in his throat at the rather inappropriate crush he is harbouring for the man's wife.

-:-

"Doc"

The softly spoken word about two feet away from Hermione made her start and turn sharply, hand palming her wand, in the direction of whoever was foolish enough to sneak up on her. She huffed in shock at the sight of Ronon Dex standing there looking equal parts sheepish and amused.

"I didn't mean to spook you."

The man was quite beautiful in an alien way, she saw in him the same things she saw in Harry; loss, strength, loneliness, loyalty, courage. She always wondered if she didn't have a saving people thing with how she longed to protect Harry from everything that ailed him. With Ronon she automatically felt the beginnings of similar protective feelings for the man who was rapidly becoming Harry's best friend on the base.

"That's quite alright Mr. Dex. I don't think we've actually formally met." She held out one hand smiling warmly at him. "Doctor Hermione Potter. Wife, Witch, Researcher. In that order."

Ronon grins as he takes her hand, "Ronon Dex. Wraith Killer… That's it." His grin has a roguish quality that reminds her of Fred and George.

"Well as I understand it that skill is at a premium around here. What can I do for you Mr. Dex?"

Ronon grimaces at bit at that and waves a hand at her as he moves around her lab confidently. Though she notes he doesn't touch a thing. "Call me Ronon. Mr. Dex was my father." He spins a bit and leans against the wall, the frown still in place.

"He's lucky to have you." Ronon said gruffly. It was as good a stalling tactic as ever she'd seen, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"He knows and I do appreciate social visits Ronon, but I really am quite busy settling in. Is there something I can help you with?" She asked with a stern tone softened by concern.

The frown deepens on his face, lines creasing in patterns that she can see are familiar to his skin. "I lost my wife when the Wraith culled Sateda, my home world. It's good that Potter has you. I've barely met him, but I can tell: He wouldn't be who he is today without you Doc."

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. "Thank you Ronon. Was there anything else?"

The tall man shook his head, looking a little bemused.

"Then go away before you make me cry you wretched man." Hermione said crossly with a hint of humor. Ronon nodded at her with a grin as he walked away. Huffing she leant against her table as her husband greeted Ronon outside. She called out into the hallway "He nearly made me cry!" She tried to stay crossed but ruined it by laughing and she heard Harry laugh as well.

"Come on in then and let's see what the matter is. I don't want to have to kick your arse again I'm more scared of Beckett than anyone else in this base."

Ronon laughed as well, a deep booming sound that seemed to echo up from beneath his diaphragm. Harry entered the room first, moving straight to her for a gentle kiss as Ronon followed him in. Hermione blushed at the knowing look the alien gave her and she glanced back at Harry who was grinning madly. "The people of his world don't… didn't, hell. Sorry." Harry shot Ronon an apologetic look, but the bigger man waved him off genially. "Right, they didn't have the same hang-ups about public affection as people from ours. So, I can kiss you as much as I want in front of him and he won't care."

Her blush only deepened but she shot Ronon an amused look. "I bet he just likes to watch." He can only nod earnestly at that and Hermione breaks out laughing as she presses herself against her husband's chest and buries her face in his neck. She can feel the rhythmic vibrations of Harry's chest as he chuckles with her. Eventually he lifts her up and sits her on the table before leaning against it and looking back towards his new friend.

"How many people does the Colonel have under his command out here?" Harry asks with a frown.

Ronon shrugs. "Over thirty, but not much more than that, thirty-three, I think. I understand there were more when they first got here but there's been casualties. He's apparently getting fifty more from Earth, but I haven't seen them get here yet. Sheppard figures they'll trickle in over the next few months as the Daedalus goes back and forth between Pegasus and your galaxy."

"So about eighty then. They'll probably push it to a full company if they can get away with it. What about the Genii?"

The bigger man frowns. "Hard to tell. Their whole population might be militarized. They've got an aggressive military commander, and their culture is militaristic. Could be thousands."

Now also frowning Harry shoots a sideways glance at his wife. "Not like we haven't been outnumbered before."

She gripped his shoulder with a reassuring hand. "It certainly isn't. You need a force multiplier love."

Ronon tilted his head in curiosity "What the hell is a force multiplier?"

"It's something that increases the effective value of each individual member of a military force. It could be body armour, weapons." He flicks his wand out before flicking it back into its hidden holster. "Magic"

Ronon looks thoughtful. "Have you seen the pea shooters the marines have?"

Harry nods, grimacing, "P90's, they're… I have to assume the manufacturer signed a pretty lucrative deal with the SGC a long time ago." He looks at the weapon at Ronon's hip. "That thing pack a punch?"

The return grin is almost feral from the alien warrior. "Yeah"

-:-

John cut a look at the woman standing next to him as Potter and Ronon blasted downrange with their firearms. The echoing thud of the British man's battle rifle in stark contrast to the buzzing discharge of Ronon's particle magnum. A P90 lay discarded next to both men.

"I think your husband doesn't like my guns."

Hermione laughs a little and leans against the rail of the observation area. "He's picky, always has been. I think you'll be getting an armament upgrade Colonel."

John frowns and looks back towards the two men just as a violent burst of fire rips out. They had traded rifles and for the first time… ever. John could see Ronon grinning with a Tau'ri weapon in hand. The steady cadence of Potter's weapons fire had been replaced by the staccato rattle of automatic fire. The magazine clicks empty rapidly and Ronon shoves a replacement in with the smooth movements of a trained soldier. The alien empties the mag again in rapid pace before grinning at the weapon and offering it back to Potter. They swap and with no further communication both turn to the two standing in the observation area and speak in stereo.

"I want one"

They disarm their respective weapons and start arguing good naturedly with lots of gestures and pointing at the targets. John looks back at the female Potter.

"An armament upgrade you say. The SGC isn't going to buy new weapons."

Hermione huffs "They won't have to. Harry will pay for the upgrade himself. Expect some lengthy discussions about ammunition and other such nonsense."

Taken aback John almost has to ask the British woman to repeat herself. "Excuse me, he'll pay for it?"

She looks at him like he's an idiot and he's annoyed that he finds it a little hot. "Don't worry about the expense Colonel Sheppard. Harry has extensive contacts in the British military and with US arms manufacturers. Besides which my husband is… Obscenely wealthy."

He raises an eyebrow "Obscenely?"

She grimaces "Yes, he's the last member of an ancient family of wizarding nobility. He's… he could purchase a country and fund its military from his personal wealth. His kind of wealth is… unheard of, anywhere. It's insane."

He looks shrewdly at her "I bet that caused some arguments."

She gave a huff and swiped some hair out of her eyes "Understatement. He spends money like its… like it doesn't matter at all. Our first Yule together as partners, he gave me a set of jeweled barrettes that must have cost… thousands of pounds. I couldn't believe he'd just… throw away money like that."

Frowning a bit John turns back to the two men who had Potter's rifle in parts on a table, discussing them all. "He must have thought you were worth all of it."

She huffed again and turned back towards the two men. "Yes, well, he certainly acts like it. He's always loved with his entire being."

"I can believe that. How long have you known him?" John asked as a marine ran into the room carrying a pack John had seen Potter carrying the day before. The British soldier opened the pack and started pulling out more parts.

Hermione smiles indulgently down at the pair as Harry begins to assemble another rifle, explaining the process to Ronon as he does so. "Since we were children. Twelve for me, eleven for him. We met at school and we've hardly been apart since."

John chuckles. "No kidding." He paused, mulling over whether he should mention what was going through his head. He sighed, figuring there wasn't much point avoiding the topic.

"Your husband. He's built for war."

She met his sigh with one of her own and nodded sadly. "Yeah, he's been through about the worst of it. Done some of the worst of it too. Don't… don't treat him like your marines or your airmen Colonel Sheppard. He trained for years to defeat the Dark Lord who terrorized wizarding Britain for three generations. He went into our version of the military after that. Barely enough time to take a breather before the International Confederation of Wizards, that's like our version of the UN, whisked him away to Rome to be trained as a War Mage. I had time to follow him and get settled in but… our people sort of abandoned him by degrees."

John took a breath; he knew what that was like. He'd been in a pit in the middle east for a year before his people had finally stumbled across him. His CO had fought tooth and nail to get him rescued but he'd been declared KIA after four weeks. Abandonment was… viscerally familiar.

"Some of our friends filtered in over the years. Some filtered back out again. But through it all Harry got deeper and deeper into his training, and eventually went into the field. We discussed for… it felt like months, what it would be like for him out there, whether he should commit to it or if he should bail out. He's stubborn, and he has a sense of duty like no one I've ever met. So, all of our discussions eventually boiled down to how he'd stay in one piece."

John grinned, "I used to have those kind of discussions with my sister and, well my ex-wife."

Hermione laughed back at him under her breath. "I take it they didn't go as well as the discussions I had with Harry."

He chuckled, acknowledging her point. "Not even close. She stuck around for the first few years but, well, eventually she couldn't handle it anymore. We married early; it was dumb."

Down in the firing ranges Ronon was fiddling with his brand-new battle rifle. John frowns. "You know we don't have ammo for those things on the city."

Hermione smiles wryly back at him. "Harry has… well a lot. We can shrink things down to tiny sizes or store them in dimensional spaces. So, he's got about." She paused and leaned over the railing. "Harry, how much ammo did you bring for that gun of yours?" He replied, distracted by explaining how to sight the weapon to his new friend. "Two cases."

John frowned; two cases of ammunition was about a thousand rounds. They'd already spent about a hundred on the firing range today and Potter burned through at least fifty every morning.

"He must be almost out of ammo already." He muttered

Hermione backed up from the rail as the two men moved back to the firing butts. "Like I said Colonel, we can shrink things. I'd say he's got a hundred thousand rounds or more stuffed in his bags."

John huffed in shock "I'm sorry, a hundred thousand rounds?"

She turned to him with that same expression that expressed her sincere annoyance at his inability to keep up. He was familiar with it from Rodney. "Yes Colonel. At least. Don't worry about his ammunition expenditure. He wouldn't be careless or foolish with his weapon. I believe you'll find him to be a diligent, conscientious and dutiful officer who will be capable of assisting you in commanding your men in this galaxy to the best of their ability."

There really was nothing much to say to that so John turned back to the two men who were now matching cadence. Though Ronon was still paying attention to Potter who was keeping up a constant stream of words through their firing pattern, he doubted anyone but the two of them could hear what they were saying though.

"I believe you. I've not seen Ronon give that much attention to anyone. He's been alone for years and he has trouble trusting anyone but… He trusts your husband, already."

The woman next to him just smiles enigmatically. "He has that effect." After a moment of silence, she gains a businesslike expression. "Right, walk me through base protocols you have between your military assets and civilians. We haven't had a chance to catch up at all this week and I need to extract some information from you."

-:-

In her office facing the stargate Elizabeth Weir put down the tablet pc she'd been reading from and settled shaking hands in her lap. With John and Ronon she thought she'd dealt with the highest level of military she'd have to on the base, but Potter's record was an entire new level of violence she hadn't quite been ready for. She'd been putting off reading the file, but she regretted that now. There wasn't a single day that would go by when she would forget that Harry Potter was a fixer who had been sent to Pegasus to fix the Wraith. Diplomacy and courtesy were foreign to this man.

There would only be war.