Cracked Eggshells

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or Temeraire.

Just so we're totally clear on that.

THIS, ladies and gentlemen and hermaphrodites and genderless aliens that are reading this in space, is going to be a compilation of one-shots and two-shots of HP/Temeraire goodness.

There MAY be, within the Warnings at the top of EACH SEPERATE POSTING:

Slash

Het

Dragon Shenanigans

Violence

Allusions to:

Child Abuse

Rape

Character Death

Past Relationships of the top two options.

Mpreg

RegPreg (AKA Regular Pregnancy, meaning FEMALE PREGNANCY)

Genderswapping

Crack

Angst (Like Whoa) ((Been wanting to say that for SOOOO long now...))

Rebirth

Explosions

Naughty Language

AND

A plethora of AU-ness, OOCness, OC's and whatever else I and/or you can come up with.

I AM accepting Prompts for this fic.

If you cannot read the warnings at the top of a chapter, and don't like what you read in it, don't bother flaming me. You will be openly mocked in the next posting, even if you're an Anon. After all, it was your own damn fault, asshat.

ANYWAYS!

General thanks to my usual readers, and everyone who has written a Harry Potter/Temeraire fic, or just a plain Temeraire fic!

…

I'd say thanks for writing a plain HP fic too, but, seriously. They're getting cliché. Crossovers are where its at! (No, but, seriously, thanks to all unique writers of HP. You rock my socks off.)

Now, on to the Story!

Problems of Animagus Proportions

(Summery: Harry is a dragon animagus and ends up in the Temeraire world in dragon-form. There he causes all sorts of trouble when he transforms back into human shape.

"Oh, bloody hell."

Time Period: After DH (EWE), During His Majesty's Dragon.

Prompter: HiddenByFaeries

Warnings: Dragon Shenanigans, Harry Mind-Fucking People, Flirting, Cursing, Kissing, and Slash. Was also supposed to be Overwhelmed!Laurence, but ended up being Overwhelmed...well...Everyone.

Apologies To: England, for my failure at a British accent of any sort, and any/all slang. The French, for all the Slurs that I type in, though I believe that should be excused since it's the Napoleon War, but, anyways, Sorry. All Hard Core Temeraire and Harry Potter fans, since I am exercising my rite as an authoress and making half-if not all-the characters OOC. Yeah...

Sorry!)

Harry tumbled through Space and Time and Magic, tumbled being the operative world. 'Really,' he thought to himself as he went from baby to old man to toddler to his actual age of twenty-eight. 'If they wanted to get rid of me, they could of at least given me the courtesy of a "by your leave", or perhaps even their name!' For you see, Harry had been minding his own business, walking around Diagon Alley having a snark with Head Auror Draco Malfoy, when some Wizard came flying out of Knockturn, cackling like mad, and threw a green, slimy... thing at him, which had sent him into his current predicament, tumbling.

'Could be worse, of course,' he thought as he somersaulted from human to his animagus form, a Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon. 'Could be painful-Oh, look, I'm outside again,' he mused, blinking his now-dark-red eyes through the thick clouds his dark gray hide melding easily as he spread his large wings and glided. Tilting his head at the sound of battle down below, he carefully glided downwards and stuck his head out of the bottom cloud cover, and blinked, marveling at the sight below him. Men on dragons, fighting. And, dragons, who were apparently French by the look of their flags, attempting to... invade? Yes, attempting to invade England with what looked like boats, which some were carrying...

"I think I'm going to like this place," he mused, and then blinked, startled but pleased, as he spoke aloud in English, as opposed to the strange, hissing Dragontongue he'd gotten used to whenever he was in this form. "Well," he mused once he'd gotten over that small delight. "Suppose I should go and help my countrymen, hmm? 'Tis only proper and all that rot." Shifting slightly, he glided until he was directly over one of the "flying ships" and, with a feral grin, dropped.

"Whoooo-hoooooo!" He howled, cackling as the dragons below him panicked, but were unable to stop his plunge. Pointed head-first, his large horns slammed through the light wood and metal, breaking it easily, and the rest of his massive bulk crashed on through simply enough after that. Still cackling, he flared his wings, body sling-shotting forward, tail smacking some smaller French dragon tail-over-teakettle as Harry set himself to rights.

"Well, that was fun!" He declared cheerfully, and flapped his wings firmly, spiraling up until he came to be side-by-side with a good-sized red-and-gold dragon that was only smaller than him by some sixty feet and thirty tons. "'Ello, mate! Fancy you a bit of Frog Catching?" Harry quipped cheerfully, grinning.

"Er, yeah, I suppose," the Gryffindor-esque dragon replied in a way that reminded Harry keenly of his friend Ron.

"Right, then," he replied happily. "Tally-ho!" He flipped upside down slowly, and then barreled down towards the dragons that were below him. He clipped two on his way down, and kept on going aimed straight for the French ship that was unlucky enough to have caught his sight. Grinning, he took a deep breath, and roared at the ship just as he flared his wings. Instantly, a massive gout of flames exploded from his maw as he glided over it in the worlds most explosively spectacular Wronski Feint ever.

"And the crowd goes wild!" He cheered, making his slow way back up, panting slightly. Alright, being the largest breed of dragon in his world was pretty amazing. Being nearly three times the normal length of the natural breed was fantastic. Being the slowest flying of the dragons, ever, was neither amazing nor fantastic. He had better stamina than most his breed, sure, but he still took forever to get places.

"Ha, ha!" He cried once he flew through the panicking chaos and found himself again next to the Gryffindor-Dragon. "Take that, then! Try and invade my country!" He shook his head mockingly at the French dragons who were looking at him nervously, his large horns gleaming. He turned a grin to his gawping companion. "So, what's your name, then? Mine's Harry!"

"Maximus," he replied a little faintly, eyes huge, and Harry grinned slyly.

"Well, then, Maxie, tell me," he leaned his head close, grinning still, red eyes bright with mischief. "Have you ever played Keep Away with a Frog?" He laughed happily, and slowly backwinged. "All you have to do is catch!" He bellowed, and, so saying, dove down and quickly caught one of the small French dragons, who squawked and struggled in his claws. Harry cheerfully flew back up and wiggled his prize at the other dragon, teeth bared. "See? It's easy! Course, you might have a tougher time of it, since you're smaller than I am, but it should still be simple..." He shifted the little white-striped blue dragon to one claw and used the other to scratch his slightly bloody chest as the men on the dragons back shot at him.

"You are all determined to get away, aren't you?" he asked them curiously, poking at them like a child might poke at an angry kitten, not minding the tiny scratches. "Hum, and this one's wearing a different coat and everything!" He quickly pulled the little man in the green coat off the dragons back, making him (it smelled like a male) cry out and go still, a look of anguish on his face. "Come now, what's that look for?" Harry asked, confused. "I just want a bit of a closer look is all! It's not like I'm going to eat him or something!" He shook his head and carefully lifted the tiny form up close, peering at him curiously as the man clung to his talon with a snow-pale face.

"Hello!" He said simply, smiling. The man stuttered out a weak Bonjour in response. Harry nodded, and carefully set the man back on his dragon. "There now," he said as the shivering creature all but mewled his relief and the man quickly secured himself back onto the saddle. Carefully, Harry held his palm out, keeping it steady until the little dragon had his wings steady and able to support him again. "Ta, luvs!" He said cheerfully, wiggling his claws and turning to fly lazily away, towards another of the "flying ship". Maximus had abandoned him to his little game, and so Harry casually set a ship on fire before smashing through it, and then set about trying to capture another dragon.

When he caught a small silver-blue dragon with black and blue markings, he was startled to be shouted at.

"We're English!" the man wearing a green coat shouted through a strange trumpet, even as the smaller dragon trembled, eyes rolling in terror like a horse.

"Oh!" Harry said, but didn't release them, he just cocked his head to the side. "Well, hello then! My name's Harry, what's yours?"

"N-N-N-Nitidus," the little dragon stuttered out. "C-c-c-could you p-p-please...?" Harry blinked.

"Oh, yes, of course!" He said, and quickly uncurled his fingers, keeping his hand steady until the little dragon got his bearings and could fly properly (Harry said "hands" and "palm" and "fingers" and such, but, in reality, he still only had two feet, with his arms turned into wings. He was very much a Wyvern, like nearly all the dragons of his world.). "I apologize, I don't get to see other dragons up close very much, you see," he said honestly. "They've got the habit of fleeing at the sight of me and, well, I'm a bit too tactile as well as curious." He smiled. " Ah, I'll just... Carry on then, shall I? Pleasure meeting you, Nitidus, little army men! Ta!" Harry wheeled about and dove down below the fighting dragons to set another ship on fire, trying to cover his embarrassment.

Hermione had been complaining non-stop that, after he had gained his animagus form, he had been very uninhibited and tended to do rude things that didn't seem rude until after he did them, and then only vaguely. According to Ron's brother Charlie, it was because Ironbellies did as they pleased, bugger the consequences, and very little could actually upset them, unless it went directly against whatever they were doing at the time. So, the dragon at Gringotts? It was guarding because, well, reasons it knew, and anyone who tried to get past it were in direct opposition and so... Dinner!

He blinked as he was hit in the face by a cannonball, a spiked cannonball, that now saw fit to get stuck in the flesh of his cheekbone. Slowly, he turned his head towards the offending ship, and narrowed his eyes in an obvious show of his displeasure.

"That," he declared loudly, flapping his wings so that he rose a bit, "was definitely rude." He snarled, and, from his place of about a hundred meters, spat out another massive gout of flame, pushing his magic into it so it would reach the ship, which it did, and then some, setting the whole thing aflame. Huffing out a sharp puff of smoke, Harry turned and made his slow way up into the air, not even trying to get the cannonball out, as he would only make a fool of himself at the moment. Spotting a golden-toned dragon with British flags getting cornered, he flew up to the rescue, smacking one of the small French dragons away with his tail and baring his teeth at the other two, who quickly sped away.

"I'm in a foul mood now," he grumbled, and turned his eyes onto the small female, pausing. "Would you be a dear," he started, and gave her the best puppy-dog-eyes he could. "Could you pull the cannonball out of my cheek, luv? I'd truly appreciate it." She blinked up at him, startled, but then, bemused, nodded and moved forward as he shifted his head so she could reach it. It took some tugging and making funny expressions to loosen the muscle, but, finally, she pulled it out and threw it at an enemy dragon, making them squawk and tumble downward.

"Good shot!" Harry praised; the dragon preened. "My name's Harry."

"I'm Messoria, pleasure to meet you, Harry," she replied. "Best get back to fighting, though." Harry looked around, and took in the fleeing French, and the large, sinuous black dragon that had just, apparently, torn apart a "flying ship" with pure sound. "Oh," Messoria muttered, blinking; Harry nodded back.

"Who's that fellow, then?" Harry asked, jerking his head towards the decidedly Asian-looking dragon.

"Oh, that's Temeraire," she told him as the two of them started flying towards land. "He's a Chinese Imperial."

"Ah, that explains it, then," Harry said, nodding to himself. "He looked like an Eastern breed."

"Oh?" Messoria asked, looking curious. "Have you seen many Eastern breeds?" Harry wagged his head from side-to-side in a so-so manner.

"Never knew any names," he said simply. "They all have a bit of the same look about their noses and bodies, however. Just like all of the United Kingdom breeds share similarities, and all French breeds. Size and color may change a dragon, but a good majority of us look similar to the stock we were bred from." She nodded thoughtfully, and soon all the British dragons were landing, well away from the still fighting militia.

"Hello," Temeraire greeted him, rather pretty turquoise eyes eying Harry with quite a bit of fascination. "I'm Temeraire, and this is my Captain, Laurence," he gestured to the blond man in a green coat, and Harry placed his wing-claws on the ground and set his face close, tilting his head so his large, red eye could peer at the small man, who looked decidedly discouraged.

"Well then," he said with a note a fascination. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Temeraire and Laurence. Tell me, what does the green coat mean? I've been mighty curious about that." Laurence gave him an uncomfortable, uncertain look under his staring, and Temeraire shifted, nervous and starting to feel possessive.

"It marks him as my Captain," Temeraire informed Harry primly, and wrapped his foreclaws around the man, pulling him away. Harry hummed, and sat up again, curling his wings close and cocking his head in a distinctly bird-like fashion.

"Right load of rubbish that is," he said easily, amused as the dragons around him stiffened slightly, feeling slighted. "Why on earth would you mark someone of command so blatantly? Are they trying to paint a target upon the Captains backs? Really now, the entire crew, captain and all, should wear the same uniform, and the Captain should just have the two gold bars as a signature of his station. Much harder to see, and substitutes and decoys can more easily be made." They were all staring at him now, and he rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath about governments putting non-fighters in control of parliament and non-dragons in charge of dragons.

"This is why I don't work for the bloody government," Harry declared, startling the dragons with his sudden inclusion of them in his rant. "They try to bugger you in the worst of ways, all subtle, and without even the courtesy of buying a bloke a drink first!"

"Dear Lord," Laurence choked, face red. The heavy-set fellow that was, apparently, Maximus' Captain, started laughing raucously, and Harry cast him an appraising glance.

"'Ello, there," he said, giving the man a once over as he settled on the ground, gasping only slightly. "What's your name, mate?"

"Matthew Berkley, you great beast," the man replied, booming voice easily heard, and Harry cocked his head sharply, before nodding. Then, in front of all and sundry, with a shimmer of silver and white lights, Harry transformed into his human self, directly in front of the Captain. His hair was silver now, his eyes red, and his once round face was now pointier, giving him a fox-like appearance when he grinned slyly, as he was now. His trousers were black and ripped only a bit, but his white dress-shirt was in shambles, covered in blood, and he had a small, bloody wound on his cheek.

"Well, Captain Berkley," he said easily, ignoring the numb shock that seemed to have taken hold of, well, everyone. "My name's Harry." And then, without so much as a 'by your leave', he kissed the man right on the mouth, before turning and padding away. "Ta, luvs! I'm off to the nearest doctor to get these bullets out!" He left the entire clearing in a sort of disbelieving, stunned silence.

"Was he just-" Laurence started.

"Yes," Temeraire replied uncertainly, eyes wide and frills flared in a show of nerves.

"And did he just-"

"Yes."

"Oh Lord."

Berkley remained silent, one hand up and touching his mouth. Finally, slowly, he blinked, and then fainted dead away.

Laurence dearly wished he could join him.

A/N: WHOOT! There we go. This was fun to write. Hope you enjoyed it!