Roses Under Cypresses

Chapter 4

Hannibal Lecter, a man of impeccable manners and stalwart control of his emotions was trembling. His hearing and Olfactory senses were telling him that Misha was here. Even after all these years, he knew exactly what she smelt like, what she sounded like. He hoarded the memories in his palace, refusing to forget her. His own senses were being tricked, it was simple remembrance, hearing her voice was deluding him that she was here. He was also not one for immersing himself in denial. He knew who and what he was, and it had never bothered him. Which made him realize, there was no way his little sisters voice had ever been recorded…which meant he was truly hearing her.

Harry ceased his own attack, there was no honour in attacking someone who wasn't fighting back. Staring at Hannibal with a surprised but pensive look on his face, realisation dawning upon him with swiftness. He turned let go off Hannibal and turned to look at the little girl.

Misha Lecter was an adorable little thing, angelic, cherubic face, that would give way to high cheekbone as she grew, with blonde hair even while much too thin and clothes that were too large for her thin frame. The dress had at one point been blue, but was dirtied to the extent that it was difficult to tell.

Hannibal was unable to help himself, he looked, expecting utterly that there would be nothing there. Everything in him believing he had been drugged or was hallucinating. Yet there she was, same age, clothed exactly the same as he'd seen her last before she was dragged out of their shared cell all those years ago.

"Hanibalas, aš toks alkanas ... pavargęs ... Hanibalas," Misha whispered weakly, laying crumbled on the floor without even the ability to raise her head. Telling her brother that she was hungry and tired, not even opening her eyes, too trapped in fever, too weak to do much of anything.

Hannibal's face spasmed, hearing the language of his birth place, a language he would never forget but rarely used. For the past few decades he had spoken mostly English and French despite his ability to speak and understand numerous languages.

"She's your anchor to your humanity," he whispered, staring at the little girl, that little thing was Hannibal Lecter's weak spot and anchor. When she'd died…Hannibal's anchor had died that day too, "Could you stop for her?" he asked, not really taunting him, but allowing him to know what it felt like to be used as an experiment to see what they would do.

Hannibal couldn't help but reach out and touch, expecting his hand to go straight through. His touch didn't, his finished brushed against feverish skin, pulsing and very, very much alive. He wasn't sure how this could be, it was impossible…he couldn't help but curl his hand into a fist, and dig his nails into the palm of his hand. It hurt a little, but he had a very strong pain threshold, blood oozed from the wounds. He was very much alive, his vitals stable, he hadn't eaten or drank anything since lunch hours ago… and his sister was most definitely in front of him.

"Or would you kill and eat her?" Harry asked him, as Hannibal approached the girl, a look of such longing and love on his face. Oh, Hannibal would never kill or eat her, he could feel the love he had for her, it was…immeasurable. She was one of the few people Hannibal had truly loved. One of the rare humans he didn't see as 'pigs' as it were.

Hannibal's face became stoic, a blank mask for the carving, but his eyes were filled with fire as he stood. His gaze turning to face Harry, despite his exhaustion he was determined to pay him back for this but also honour him for giving him this gift.

"Well, hello," Harry murmured, "There you are, I see you," he was finally, finally, face to face with the Chesapeake ripper. Probably one of the few who had seen beyond the veil he showed the world…beyond those who had died of course. "I like you, it really is too bad…" feeling a smidgen of regret, for he knew Will despite his anger liked Hannibal as well.

Hannibal was just about to move, to render, to rip, to tear, to shred. His need to protect, to kill outweighed his curiosity on this man, and how Misha came to be there. He had only taken one step when he was halted.

"Hanibalas kur mes esame?" Misha asked, eyes half-mast, clearly not seeing what was in front of her, but nonetheless thinking she was still with her brother…who was decades older than she'd seen him last.

"You may want to answer her," Harry commented, suitably distracting him.

"You understand…" Hannibal was stunned, it was so rare to meet someone who understood Lithuanian.

Death cautioned him against his current actions, especially if he wanted Will to be a free man without a single doubt. That they needed Hannibal Lecter, all it would take was the copycat to reveal himself as the Chesapeake ripper to allow Will to go free. Well, aware of what the future could be. To think if he had not accepted his new status…he would never have found out about his brother. If he had remained a normal wizard…he'd have never found Will.

"I understand every language created, and some that have yet to be so," Harry said calmly, unperturbed by the promise of death and retribution exuding from Hannibal. "Not so fun when you're on the receiving end of manipulation is it? Would you be so willing to do what you do when there is the possibility of backlash on her?" changing gears, he never dismissed death's advice, for unlike Dumbledore…Death was omnipotent.

Which meant his current path did not involve victory for himself and Will. Which was strange, Harry wasn't one to tolerate failure let alone perceive it. He had magic at his disposal, he could make it all go away with a flick of his wand…normally. Apparently that wasn't the case here at all. Did the magical world find out? He was watched rather closely, they feared him after all.

Of course, Death had his own agenda, but Harry would forgive him, when he had everything he wanted on a silver platter. Thank Merlin he couldn't see what the future held, that was a gift for him and him alone.

"What do you want?" Hannibal straightened up, sensing the undercurrent of change within Harry. Those words alone indicated that things had suddenly changed, that plans had changed. He might be a physiatrist but he had nothing but disdain for psychology; he did not consider it a science, criticizing – if only internally – it as puerile, and finding most psychology departments were filled with ham radio enthusiasts and other personality-deficient buffs it however, served him well and suited his purpose. It helped that he knew how to read people. Not that it mattered, this man would not be leaving this house alive. He knew too much.

Harry straightened up, his gaze speculative, "An accord," he told the man, "One in which we will both benefit." Giving a nod towards Misha, who was curled up against Hannibal's leg, once again unconscious. She would need a magical replenishing draught, it was the cause of her fever but the starvation she'd been through had definitely not helped both the fever and the magical depletion.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes, taking it as a subtle threat for what it was. "Continue, if you please," Hannibal stated, as always polite, finding rudeness vulgar, and only pigs were rude.

"Be aware, that trying to kill me is futile, and attempting it will just piss me off." Harry said, with deceptive mildness, slightly put out that he wasn't going to kill him after all. He had hurt Will, and not many people could say they had done that. As reclusive as his brother actually was. "What I want…is to see Will freed from prison. Which means…it's time to start another sounder," a sardonic grin, it was ironic really, that they called them that before they truly understood Hannibal's mindset seeing his victims as pigs. "Time to combine the copy-cat and the Chesapeake ripper into one neat little bow."

Hannibal stared at Harry, so carefully hiding his disbelief, "You're a special agent, why would you suggest such a thing?" suspicious and speculative enough to believe that this man was actually trying to set him up. His lips twitched in amusement, as if he would be stupid enough to fall for that. Although he didn't believe he was being recorded…it did not mean that there wasn't something set up to record everything regardless. He would need to go through his home with a fine-tooth comb. He would anyway, he was meticulous about his home and always made it clean and tidy.

"Why am I not surprised you're keeping an eye on Will from even inside?" Harry stated dryly, "You were a Doctor of the body and now the mind, you're supposed to help people but you elect not to do so. Our profession rarely reveals who we really are, don't you agree? Despite the outside only ever seeing a facet of what we show the world. Plus, you are smart enough to know what kind of people are drawn to law enforcement." Psychopaths, in other words.

Hannibal gazed pensively at the man, gauging the truth, his maroon eyes flickering down to his sister. He was definitely more than just an officer of the law, that was very clear. The desire to strip him down and figure out what makes him tick was strong.

"The last person who attempted to manipulate me…died an agonising death." Harry said giving Hannibal an wickedly amused look. He couldn't help himself could he? Then again, this was the first time he'd been exposed to magic, and quite frankly it as understandable. Harry just wasn't fond of the method the good 'Doctor' would employ.

"You have two days exactly to do as I have asked." Harry informed him, "If not…well, you won't know anything has happened by the time you're seeing the other side. You won't be the only one, her being here is contingent on your behaviour. Keep Will out of your games." He demanded.

"And how do I get in touch with you?" Hannibal asked with feigned politeness.

Harry grinned, it was all teeth, "I'm living at Will's in Wolf Trap, I'm sure you're more than familiar with the place?" green eyes gleaming vindictively, just begging him to try something so that he might show him exactly what he was capable of. Removing his card, he used his magic to float it over nearer Hannibal, "My card…do refrain from putting it in your Rolodex." And with that, Harry apparated out of Hannibal's home, giving his last warning that he could appear anywhere at any time.

Nowhere was safe from his ire.

Staring down at the still form of his little sister, Hannibal realised…if this was a dream…he didn't want to wake up.

It soon became increasingly clear that

"No, Jack, after what you did to Will…find someone else," Alana argued on the phone with Jack Crawford, refusing to help him after the way he treated Will. Throwing him away as though he was expendable after promising to take care of him and make sure he didn't go too deep. She should have made sure he didn't go out onto the field, shouldn't have trusted Jack at all. It wasn't a mistake she was going to make again.

She also refused to believe Will's assessment that Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. He was ill, mentally impaired. Once he was better he would realise Hannibal was innocent as well, of that she was certain.

A knock at the door had the dogs barking, and milling around the front door.

"Hold on a moment," Alana said with more politeness than she felt Jack deserved. Glancing at the time on her watch, she wasn't expecting anyone. Placing her call on hold, completely disregarding Jack's demands still coming through. "Beds! Now!"

The dogs just wagged their tails, excited beyond reason refusing to listen to Alana, no matter how well trained they were and how often she said it. With a lot of cajoling she managed to close the door so they couldn't get outside and opened her front door. "Can I help you?" she asked, seeing a stranger on her doorstep.

"Are you Alana Bloom?" Harry enquired, keeping his distance.

"Yes, I am she," Alana said, "Can I help you?" she repeated, wondering who on earth it was.

"I'm here to collect Will's dogs," Harry stated firmly, they were going to be where they belong, in Wolf Trap. As lovely as this place was…it was nothing on Wolf Trap and the freedom the dogs usually got.

"What?" Alana asked, gaping in shock, eyes wide.

"The dogs," Harry said as though he was conversing with someone particularly slow. Unimpressed with what he was reading from her. Unstable indeed, his dislike immediate and immense, despite the fact she had indeed defended him, which was her only saving grace. "I'm here to take them home."

"You know Will?" Alana cautiously asked, having no intention of handing over the dogs to this stranger without Will's say so.

"Yes," Harry replied, giving her a look she deserved for stating the obvious. Not parting with further information, willing the door to open, the dogs immediately swarmed out to greet him. He smelt like Will, like Wolf Trap, of home, so of course, they would immediately began sniffing him and wagging their tails. Harry patted each of them, treating them with the reverence they deserved, since they were so precious to Will. He hadn't been keen on dogs, ever since the ripper incident in his childhood, but he'd quickly gotten over that, since he'd lived with a pack of dogs with Will for a time. It was impossible not to begin to care for them, and a few of them even recognized him after all this time. Many though, were new additions since he had gone. They were all mutts, and mutts lived significantly longer lengths of time than pedigree dogs.

"I cannot just let you take them," Alana said almost defensive with jealousy that Will was trusting another with the dogs. "I'll need confirmation from Will first."

"I hardly need your permission to take them," Harry said, finding himself amused with her shifting thoughts and emotions. It was pathetic really, how jealous she was over Will having another person whom he trusted to take care of his dogs. "They do belong to Will, and I am taking them home." he knew all the cues that Will taught the dogs he adopted.

So with that, he whistled sharply, "Come," with that the dogs immediately followed, Harry immediately stalked towards the drive way, where a white van was parked, ready to cart them off home. He couldn't risk using magic on them, so he would endure the long drive back to Wolf Trap.

"Who is Will to you? He's never mentioned you before," Alana tried to catch up with him, but Harry was already closing the doors of the van with the dogs in comfortably.

"Because he would tell you everything?" Harry asked blankly, staring at her as if she was a particularly troublesome irritant as he moved to the driver's side, thankfully remembering which side it was on. "You know as well as I, how private Will is," opening the door, he slid inside and closed it, opening the window, "I will reimburse you for the cost, just let me know how much it is,"

"I really would prefer if you gave me a chance to talk to Will…" she started, but Harry pressed the button and the window rolled back up, the van then started and Harry begun to drive away. He had no desire to sit and listen to her prattle on.

He had work to be done.

Not only did he have to get the dogs back home, he had to check in at MACUSA, get his first assignment and ensure everything was above-board. Sign the contract and ensure his money went into the right vault. He didn't work for free, and he was going to make sure he got well paid by MACUSA. The President could afford to hire him anyway, he was the best. He knew it, they knew it, and they were never going to get an offer like that again. if not for Will, they wouldn't have had this opportunity.

The things you did for those you cared for he thought, as he drove, listening to the directions as he went. He knew Baltimore and he knew Virginia…but the way there? No, regretfully not, he had no need, he could Apparate wherever he liked.

The adrenaline from earlier had yet to fade, this assignment was just the thing he needed. Unsurprisingly, he ached something fierce, no doubt Hannibal did as well, this fight wouldn't be a Mundane one though, no, it would be a magical one…depending on who they send him after…he might let them live, might.

He didn't like being beholden to anyone, let alone Hannibal Lecter, which was why instead of sending the girl back…he'd allowed her to remain, to live out her life here. With the funds Hannibal had, he would have identification for her within days. If he had been a better person, he wouldn't have tried using her, but he just wanted the guy to feel even a smidgen of what it was like to lose your mind after what he put Will through before killing him.

He still might, the only reason his hand had been stayed, was because he was useful.

That and because it had happened to Will, he would have the last say in what happened to Hannibal Lecter.

Harry failed to take into account the sheer innocence that Misha Lecter could exude, and draw the 'monsters' – as many people would see them as – to her in a bid to not only protect her but her innocence in the world.

Hannibal was just the first drawn to her orbit.

Pretty soon she'd have three very protective parental figures protecting her from not only themselves but the world that had failed her once before with zealotry.

There we go! The next chapter! Will we see Jack next chapter or will it be focusing on Harry and Will with perhaps a bit of their history thrown in? R&R please