There's Nothing Sweeter

Disclaimer: I own neither 'Harry Potter' or 'Percy Jackson'. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: There's nothing sweeter than summertime, even when it involves Camp Halfblood, a plot to destroy Olympus, and a handsome musician named Lee. AU.

Rating: M for language, mild violence, mild adult themes and references to character death.

Author: tlyxor1.

There's Nothing Sweeter

Chapter One

Gwen Potter could count on two hands the moments in her life where the world - or her perception of it - shifted, when everything had changed and where life, as Gwen knew it, would never be the same again. That cold night on a hut in the ocean, that first journey on the Hogwarts Express, when she woke up after she and Neville's encounter with the Voldemort possessed Professor Quirrell. There were more instances, of course, but the one thing they all had in common was that they'd all irrevocably changed her life - or maybe they had all just changed Gwen herself - but she thought this occasion, seated in the headmaster's office, had to take the cake.

At fourteen years of age, there were a lot of things she knew about life. It sucked, it was unfair, it went on. She was a pragmatic girl in a world of magic, she was inordinately cynical and generally always saw the negative side of things, but as her worldview tilted on it's axis all over again, she wondered what blow would be next. Her parents didn't know their own damn names, she'd made herself an enemy in Voldemort and his obsessive servants, Professor Snape was a disgusting bastard and Gwen was ready to punch the lights out of all three of her living - and questionably sane - relatives.

"So, due to some pranks gone wrong, Zeus and my father cohabited the same body during the month of my conception and therefore, I have two fathers, one of which is actually a Greek God?" She clarified. In a world of magic, it wasn't a difficult concept to believe, but for fuck's sake, why was this her life?

Dumbledore nodded, genial smile on his face, elbows perched on the edge of his desk, hands clasped together, eyes twinkling in that irritating way of his. "Precisely right, Gwyneth."

"So why am I only finding out now?" She queried. Her, by now legendary, temper broiled beneath the surface of glaze coloured eyes and an artfully blank expression, but the headmaster was unfazed.

"Your mortal parents put blocks on your demigod powers to keep you safe," Dumbledore answered lightly, almost as though he spoke of the weather, "They broke on your thirteenth birthday."

Gwen blinked once, shook her head and didn't bother pointing out that her thirteenth birthday was over a year and nine months ago, never mind the fact that she was basically a siren call to any monsters hungering for some demigod munchies in that time.

Instead, she listened silently as Dumbledore outlined what she would face now, what options she had and such things. Then she accepted the dual citizenship papers and the two passports he handed her along with a variety of other such identification papers that would allow her entry into the Americas, got to her feet and exited the office with a tired sigh.

It seemed that once again, peace had flitted just out of her reach when she longed for it most. Gwen had actually been looking forward to a mundane summer away from her magical problems, away from the reality that Voldemort had just been resurrected a week ago, but evidently, the powers that be liked to mess with her life far too much to grant Gwen even that respite.

She scoffed to herself, not at all surprised. "Fucking typical."

With a groan, she reached Gryffindor Tower, gave the password and trotted up the spiralling staircase to her blessedly empty dormitory. She began to pack her things, and it was exactly the moment she'd shouldered her magical satchel, in which resided every one of her worldly possessions, that Gwen disappeared in a swirl of golden mist, to reappear beneath a golden sunrise. She was in an alley, hot and dry and clearly no longer in Britain. She grumbled to herself, turned to the mouth of the alley and began to walk. She made it onto the main street, walked until she found a news stand and sighed as soon as her currently verdant gaze rested on the headline of the New York Times.

At least it answered the question of where she was but damn, some notice would have been nice.

Now, it was simply a matter of finding her way to Camp Halfblood.

She shrugged to herself - the streets were as deserted as they'd get for New York - and raised her wand at the curb. A crack wrenched the air, a vivid green bus appeared in front of her and Gwen climbed on with a satisfied smirk.

Let it never be said that Gwyneth Hyacinth Potter was not resourceful.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus-"

"Hello," she interrupted, "Do you take galleons?"

The attendant nodded, Gwen dropped one of the golden coins into his hand and requested, "Do you know where Camp Halfblood is, by any chance?"

"Sure do," the attendant confirmed, "You're stop number five."

Gwen nodded her acknowledgement, settled in an available seat and impatiently waited out the uncomfortable ride, eyes closed to the death-defying stunts the bus was surely pulling to avoid foot traffic and such inconveniences. She disembarked at her stop with a relieved sigh, looked around and wondered where she ought to go from there. She was at the base of a hill with an enormous tree at it's peak, surrounded by strawberry fields and no traffic in sight.

"If I were a secret summer camp for demigod children, where would I hide?"

"Over the hills and far away."

Gwen turned to find a tall, broad shouldered teenaged boy behind her, with golden, windswept hair and eyes that glimmered like the sun on the water. His skin was tanned from constant exposure to sunlight, his smile was bright and he carried the strap of a duffel bag over his shoulder and a guitar at his back, and if Gwen was any other girl, she might have swooned.

The stranger had been on the Knight Bus when she'd boarded it, but other than a cursory glance, Gwen had paid him no heed. Now she offered him a lopsided curl to her lips that might have passed for a smile, but happiness was hard to muster and she was really more interested in who the hell this bloke was and why the hell he was talking to her.

"And you are?"

The stranger offered his hand to shake and Gwen accepted it in her own. His fingertips were callused, the fingers themselves long and slender. His grip was firm, and dry, and for first impressions, the bloke's handshake made a good one.

"Leighton Fletcher, son of Apollo, though I go by lee. You are?"

"Gwen," she answered simply. "So where is this elusive summer camp?"

"The pine tree on top of that hill over there marks the camp's borders," he answered. She appreciated the fact he didn't pry. "You mind if I walk with you?"

"Lead the way."

The pair walked side by side up the hill and by the time they'd reached the peak, Gwen was grateful for a number of things, though mostly her well worn, dragon hide, special order combat boots. There was also the fact that she'd opted to maintain an exercise regime that she constantly changed, determined to have her body in peak physical condition until a time in which the threat to her health and wellbeing was nullified, but as they crossed the borders and Gwen took in her first sight of Camp Halfblood, that was the last thing on her mind.

"It's really something, isn't it?"

Gwen could only nod, struck speechless. She could remember feeling the same thing at her first sight of Hogwarts, but where Hogwarts was a medieval marvel, Camp Halfblood looked as though it had just walked directly out of the Greek Empire. Glistening white marble structures gleamed in the summer sun, strawberry fields met the Atlantic Coast and among it all, their dwelt demigods and nymphs, satyrs, naiads, all bursting with a liveliness that Gwen couldn't fathom.

"Come on," Lee gestured her forward and Gwen acquiesced, with no real idea of what else she should do, "I'll take you to Mr D and Chiron. mr D is the camp coordinator - word of advice: don't piss him off - and Chiron is the activities director. They'll be able to house you in the Hermes Cabin, at least until you're claimed."

"Right," she acknowledged, as Lee came to a stop by the steps that led to a big blue house with a wrap around verandah, on which two older men were in the midst of what looked to be a very heated game of Pinochle. "Thanks for your help."

"Not a problem," Lee answered, hoisting the straps of his guitar case and duffel bag higher on his shoulders, "I'll see you around, Gwen."

Gwen nodded her acknowledgement, walked up the porch steps and came to a halt beside the two men and their heated game of cards. She was probably not dressed appropriately for the occasion, combat boots, skintight jeans and a shirt that ironically read 'Even heroes have the right to dream', but Gwen had never cared much for formalities and now was no exception. Therefore, rather than dwell on her attire, she instead took the opportunity to scrutinise the two camp organisers while they were otherwise preoccupied.

The first, a short, pale faced man with hair as dark as the darkest night, with bloodshot eyes the unsettling colour of purple - like grapes, she observed. He was clad in a yellow Hawaiian print shirt, cotton shorts and velcro sandals, but his skin was pale and blotchy. It gave off the impression that he didn't receive much sunlight - or was ridiculously hungover after an all night bender -, and as far as first impressions went, Gwen wondered why they let the bloke near children.

The second was older, with greying hair and kind eyes, but he was restricted to a wheelchair and again, she wondered about the bloke's involvement with a summer camp for adolescent demigods. He spared her a smile though, and offered her a seat at the card table, and Gwen supposed his genial temperament won over most of the kids here well enough.

"You are Gwen Potter, are you not? I was told to expect you, courtesy of your headmaster. My name is Chiron, across from me is Mr D and as you are no doubt aware, this is Camp Halfblood."

"Indeed," she acknowledged, as a mirthless smile pulled at the corners of her lips. "Thank you for having me, I suppose."

"We're happy to, Gwen," Chiron answered.

Mr D scoffed his protest. "Speak for yourself, horse. Another bloody brat to deal with does not a happy Dionysus make."

Gwen blinked, bit her tongue to smother her instinctive retort and instead turned to Chiron, mildly curious. She'd seen a centaur before, but she'd never met an immortal one. Or a god, for that matter, but as things went, Mr D wasn't particularly leaving a positive impression of Gwen's godly relations and if she knew her Greek mythology right, she was looking at the legendary trainer of heroes.

"I'll show you around camp then, shall I?"

Chiron completely ignored Mr D, and Gwen watched, quite curious, as Chiron lifted himself out of the wheelchair. Except when a human would have been stood at his full height, more of the trainer appeared, until he stood tall and proud, a half horse, half man, with a chestnut coat and bizarrely, a button down shirt.

"Does that get uncomfortable?"

"That it does," Chiron answered, "But alas, some appearances must be upheld, for security's sake, you understand?" Gwen nodded, and Chiron headed for the stairs. "Come, now, I have a tour to give, do I not?"

Author's Note: I feel like this is somewhat better than my first go round at a PJO/HP crossover, but that's generally how it goes. Thanks for reading, leave a review, share your thoughts. Until next time, -t.