WordsinRain requested a Harry/Jean-Luc fic with the theme 'Hat' – or at least I think that was the theme…well, it is now :P

Hope you like it, Love! And congrats on finishing your last exam – yay! Holiday!

Disclaimer: Totes don't own…much…

Warning: Language. French AND English bashing – seriously, did you expect anything else? I think it's almost become a sport between the two countries (but nothing serious though – we love you guys really!). Slash. Some really, really bad jokes.

I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,
A poet, a pawn and a king.
I've been up and down and over and out
And I know one thing:
Each time I find myself, flat on my face,
I pick myself up and get back in the race.

~That's Life, Frank Sinatra

Ash was resting in his throne room, glad for the peace and quiet, when the vision hit. His fingers stilled from their quiet strumming on his guitar and his feet, kicked over the arm of his throne, stopped tapping out a silent beat.

The only indication that he was having a vision at all was the widening of his eyes as it played out in his mind.

When it finished he was silent. Then, without any warning he let out a wild cackle and twisted out of his seat, his boots thumping on the ground.

"Simi!" He roared, voice echoing through the empty halls. "Simi! Alexion!"

Simi appeared in a swirl of air next to him. "What?" She pouted, "The Simi was busy buying sparklies, Akri."

"Yeah," Ash patted her on the shoulder as he moved past her towards the large TV taking up a wall, "you're going to want to see this."

Clicking his fingers, the TV turned on and tuned itself until it was showing the sun setting over New Orleans. He turned around to see Simi staring blankly at the screen.

"Well?" Ash asked her.

"Simi don'ts know why Akri has called her away from the Simi's sparklies for this."

Ash snickered. "Don't worry, this isn't the main event."

Simi had just opened her mouth to say something when she was interrupted by the throne room doors slamming open.

"Ash!" Alexion called out as he ran through the door, completely out of breath, "I heard you shout! What's wrong? Is someone attacking us? Did The Destroyer get out? Did Simi run out of barbeque sauce? What! What is it?"

Ash gestured at the TV, with its vision of an admittedly nice sunset, with a grin plastered across his face. Alexion looked from Ash, to the TV and then back again.

"What?" A look of confusion overcame him, "I don't understand? Is this it?" The confusion turned to mild annoyance. "Did you just make me run all the way here to show me a sunset?"

Ash rolled his eyes and snapped two chairs and a pile of pillows into existence. "Here, sit. You both really want to watch this."

Simi shrugged and plopped herself down on the pillows as Ash snapped a bowl of popcorn for her to eat.

Alexion was a little more wary but he eventually slunk his way across the room and lowered himself into one of the chairs. "This better be good." He grumbled under his breath.

"Oh," Ash sniggered, "it is."

Alexion spared him an irritated glance. "So now what?"

Ash's grin got wider as the picture on the TV focused down from the panoramic view of the darkened sky to the streets that were just starting to fill withNew Orleans nightlife. Alexion could see tourists and party goers traipsing down the main roads, heading to the bars and clubs, whilst scantily dressed men and women emerged from the shadowed alcoves and alleys, the streetlights giving them an almost ethereal shine.

"You called me here…to watch hookers?" Alexion asked, raising an eyebrow at Ash. "Why are we watching hookers? I don't think this is a valuable use of our time. And why are you showing Simi this?"

"You're so impatient." Ash rolled his eyes, "Will you just wait for a moment?"

Alexion sighed. Loudly. And propped his chin on his fist. "Fine. But just so you know I do have work to be doing and-"

He was cut off when a figure strode across the screen and the view shifted so that it was following him. He was wearing black tailored trousers and a black shirt shot through with blue silk so that it shimmered when the light struck it just right. He was also wearing a dark blue fitted coat that gathered in at the waist and flared out in a style reminiscent of the seventeenth century.

"Is that Jean-Luc?" Alexion asked Ash in confusion.

"Yup!"

"You called me here to watch Jean-Luc with hookers?"

Ash sighed heavily with all the patience of a long-suffering parent. "Wait." He stressed.

The view continued to follow Jean-Luc as he strode down the street. Alexion could see the gazes of women, and some men, drawn to him but Jean-Luc seemed oblivious to them, continuing on his way seemingly without a care in the world.

Alexion stood up. "Well, this was enlightening. But if we're just going to watch a French pirate walk around New Orleans then I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass."

Ash clapped his hand on Alexion's shoulder and forced him back down into the chair. "Trust me." He said, "It's worth it."

Alexion narrowed his eyes, then shifted and slumped back into the chair. "Fine."

Ash grinned. "Wonderful!" He snapped his fingers again and suddenly his hand was full of a huge brown tricorn hat with a massive white ostrich plume sprouting out the back that almost brushed the floor. The feather had to be three feet at least.

Alexion stared at it in alarm. "What?" He asked.

Ash turned his grin to him as he span the ostentatious hat in his hands, then promptly disappeared. Alexion started and glanced around the room before turning his attention to Simi. She shrugged at him and ate another handful of popcorn.

"Ash's gone crazy." He murmured mournfully to himself as he turned back to face the screen.

Jean-Luc had been having a bad day. First off he hadn't been able to sleep. At all. So instead of rolling out of bed bright-eyed and bushy tailed ready to stab some Daimons, he had instead plodded downstairs, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Secondly, he had found that he had run out of French roast. How he had managed to run out of coffee was reason for debate (though he would put all his money on his squire stealing it, the little thief), nevertheless, he had to make do with whatever drink had caffeine enough to just get him up and down to the nearest coffeehouse.

The drink had happened to be English breakfast tea.

English. Breakfast. Tea.

Not only was it tea but it was English. He didn't know what offended him more. He didn't spend his entire human life robbing the English blind, just to pay them to drink their poncy tea in his afterlife.

But it would do he supposed. At least until he could get some proper French roast in and hidden away from his squire.

He consoled himself with the thought that at least it wasn't anything Spanish.

Of course he would have to spill the damn tea on his white shirt. That was just a given with the way this day was shaping up. Instead of even trying to poof it clean he just changed shirts into something darker.

After that debacle, he had found that his favourite knife had gone missing. No matter how hard he searched for it, it didn't turn up. Ergo, he had to make do with his other set of knives – the ones that his squire still hadn't gotten around to sending to Kell to get the balance checked. (They were about half a pound to heavy in the handle.)

His front door key snapped in the lock. His car wouldn't start. When he kicked at the tyre all he managed to do was stub his toe and when he started hopping around in pain he managed to trip over a plastic flamingo lawn ornament.

He didn't even own a plastic flamingo lawn ornament.

Jean-Luc lay on his back on the grass and took a deep breath. When that didn't work he took another, and another, until he was reasonably calm.

Then he stood up and with a roar picked up the flamingo and chucked it at his car. It clattered against the hood, scratching deep marks into the black paint. But by that point he really didn't care.

Needless to say he thought it might be safer to try and walk to work.

By the time he got down to the club district he was quite ready for Daimons to attack him en masse.

What he got was Ash giving him a heart attack.

Ash bit his lip, trying not to laugh. This was one of the more perfect ways to alleviate boredom. He waited until Jean-Luc had stalked past before stepping out the shadows.

"Hello."

Jean-Luc yelped and span around, a dagger already leaving his hands. It thudded into the wall by Ash's head. Ash glanced at it curiously for a moment before turning his attention back to his recalcitrant pirate.

"That was pathetic aiming."

Jean-Luc, who had paled drastically when he had realised just who he'd tried to kill, scowled. "That's not my fault." He said, "The balance is all off and my squire hasn't taken them to Kell yet."

Ash smirked. "Only a shoddy warrior blames his weapons for his failings." He pulled the knife from where it had embedded in the brickwork without shattering and span it around in his hand, flipping it with ease through his fingers. Nodding, he flicked it down where it landed with a thud between Jean-Luc's feet. "Bit heavy in the handle."

Jean-Luc bent down and retrieved his knife with a look of annoyance. "Yes. You have made it quite clear that you are awesome. Is there anything you actually wanted or…" he trailed off when something white and feathery was thrust into his face.

Spitting out the stands of the plume he backed up a step and looked at the thing in growing horror. "What."

Ash grinned. "Here, this is for you."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

Ash snorted. "This hat is very important. It," he continued, ignoring Jean-Luc's look of unimpressed disbelief, "is about to lead to love."

Jean-Luc waited but when Ash didn't say anything more he snorted. Loudly. "Love?" he asked, "You're telling me that that…thing…is going to lead to love?"

Ash shrugged, "Eventually."

"And you're giving it to me. I'll say it again – thanks, but no thanks."

Ash rolled his eyes and waved the hat about. Jean-Luc had to constantly bat the feather away just so he wouldn't loose an eye. "It's not time just yet. I need you to look after the hat. Make sure that nothing happens to it. It must be your first priority. Can you promise me that?"

"Let me see if I've got this straight." Jean-Luc said slowly, "you want to pull me off Daimon duty for tonight to watch over a hat." He batted at the feather once again as it began to attack him with help from the muggy breeze. "A hat that seems to be able to defend itself quite well."

Ash seemed to think over Jean-Luc's reasoning before smirking. "Yes."

Jean-Luc nodded. "And I don't get a choice in this, do I?"

Ash's smirk got wider. "Ah, the joys of minions."

Jean-Luc sighed and reluctantly held out a hand. "Fine, pass it here then."

"So glad you see it my way." Ash said, before jamming the hat on Jean-Luc's head with barely disguised glee. "It's a pirate hat so it'll feel just like old times!" he said as Jean-Luc battled with his newly acquired headgear, "Remember to take good care of it! I'll be back for it soon."

With that he disappeared and Jean-Luc was left alone in a dark alley.

"Pirate…" Jean-Luc trailed off, then jerked the hat from his head to get a better look at it. "This. Is. An. English pirates hat!" he roared, waving it about and managing to get another face full of feather.

Scowling at the offensive article in hand he debated just blasting the thing to smithereens and hiding from Ash. He sighed when his brain came up with a fairly extensive list of why that wouldn't work.

Instead, he put the hat back on his head and, with wounded dignity, strode out of the alley – ignoring the many wide eyed looks.

Ash reappeared in the throne room to find Simi giggling and Alexion giving him a weird look.

"What?" He asked.

Alexion shook his head and turned back to the TV screen. "Sometimes I worry about you."

Harry was pleasantly drunk.

He was currently squished into a booth in some bar in New Orleans, surrounded by the entirety of the Weasley brothers and his Gryffindor dorm mates celebrating the upcoming nuptials of one Ginny Weasley to one Dean Thomas.

About three bars back the twins had started them all off singing the Hogwarts school song and they were still going strong. Of course, it helped that they kept forgetting the words and had to start over until they could finish.

They even had the muggles singing it.

Unfortunately it was getting too warm for Harry. He struggled to crawl over the swaying forms of Ron and Seamus and fell on the floor, levering himself up when it became obvious that no one else was going to help him.

"Harry! Where ya going?" Ron asked, his arm thrown around Dean's shoulders to keep him upright.

"Outside. Too hot." He mumbled as he staggered through the still singing crowds to the front door.

As soon as he stepped outside he shivered. It wasn't particularly cold but it was definitely cooler than being squished between several hot, drunk bodies.

Harry breathed in deeply but the air wasn't cold enough to start to sober him. Instead it made him smile goofily as he sagged back against the brickwork. He should probably head back in soon.

"Hey there."

The low, sultry voice had Harry turning his head to see a tall, blond man leaning on the wall next to him with a smirk. It took him a moment for his brain to catch up but when it did all that registered was 'Pretty' and then 'Ew, Malfoy'.

The man moved closer, fingering the collar of Harry's shirt as he pressed their bodies together, leaning down and nuzzling Harry's neck.

"How about we go somewhere more…secluded…"

Harry shivered when he felt the guy's teeth scrape his skin, they seemed a little sharper than usual but that could also just be Harry's imagination. There was something predatory about him.

Grimacing slightly, Harry moved away from the guy and held up his hands as if to ward him off.

"Not interested."

There was a pause in which Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Maybe brushing the man off wasn't such a good idea but really, he gave Harry the creeps.

Harry watched warily as the man's face smoothed out and he smiled. Now he felt even more like prey.

"Okay, worth a try."

Harry nodded. He really wanted to go back inside but the Malfoy-wannabe was standing in front of the door and Harry had no intention of getting closer to him than necessary. He smiled cautiously and started to head around the building, looking for a back entrance.

It was only when he had taken several steps into the alley that he realised that he had made a stupid mistake. A hand grabbing the back of his shirt and slamming him into the wall solidified that realisation. He let out a cry of pain as his cheek scraped against the bricks. A body pressed fully against his back, making it impossible to kick back, strong hands gathering his wrists and holding them in an unbreakable grip above his head.

"Let me go!" Harry cried, writhing, trying to escape.

The man behind him wrenched his head to the side by his hair. He opened his mouth to scream but the hand slipped down and gripped his jaw. Harry screamed anyway but with his mouth forced closed all that came out was a muffled whimper of pain.

"Fucking bitch. Shut up!"

Harry kept struggling. The man behind made another noised of annoyance and gripped his face tighter. Harry could feel the bruises forming on his chin and jaw. It was painful, but not as painful as when the guy sank his fangs into Harry's neck.

Tears of pain gathered in the corners of his eyes as he twitched in the man's grasp, unable to do anything. He was utterly helpless and he hated it.

Darkness was just encroaching on the edge of his vision when the weight against his back was ripped away. Harry immediately fell to the ground, blinking to try and disperse the black spots as he pressed his forehead against the brick. Warm wetness ran down his neck and dampened his collar, soaking into his shirt.

Behind him he could hear grunts and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

He knew that he had to get up and get away but his body wasn't listening to him right now. Dazed and breathing heavily, he fumbled for his wand. He was not going to die unarmed.

He just managed to turn around when a hat stabbed Malfoy-wannabe in the chest. And Malfoy-wannabe exploded into gold sparkles. Harry wondered if real-Malfoy would explode if he stabbed him. Then he belatedly wondered if he had maybe lost too much blood.

The hat came closer and bent down. Harry blinked again as a face materialised underneath the wide brim. A pretty face.

Oh, who was he kidding. The man was gorgeous. Concerned black eyes glanced over him, framed by curling black hair pulled into a low ponytail. A line of stubble framed his jaw, running up from his chin to his lower lip.

Harry had the overwhelming urge to follow that line with his mouth. He leant forward but the hat brim poked him in the eye and he cursed. Great, just what he needed. Though it did serve to bring him out of whatever haze he had fallen under.

"Are you okay?"

Harry blinked, his fingers pressed against his abused eye, at the question.

"Nice hat." He answered.

Haha – this was meant to be a oneshot! Yeah, not happening. Should only be 3 or 4 chapters long though, so no worries :)

REQUEST!: Okay, as you might have guessed by sticking a headstrong French and Englishman together, their relationship is going to be fairly…antagonistic. Plenty of light-hearted bashing of each side, either way.

What I really need are any French insults/jokes about the English – preferably in their native language with translations. Seriously, go crazy – the more the merrier – I think I'm actually going to enjoy bashing my own country (sacrilege!). And I'm not limiting it to just modern insults – oldies are good too :P

You can put them in a review or in a PM – whatever's easier.