No one would ever be able to tell why Harry, this silly short man with black hair, green eyes, who turned up at Fairy Tail raving like a mad man, who Loke had spoken so fondly of, and who sometimes seemed to flicker in and out of existence like a ghost, knew Loke so well. As a matter of fact, Harry and Loke would vehemently deny that they knew each other before that night, saying that they had some sort of psychic link, that there was a dark guild involved, that yes, they had met each other before, but it was just in passing, a couple years before Loke had joined Fairy Tail.

Mira didn't believe them.

They were a right pair of brothers and acted like they had grown up together. Loke would make some snide comment about Fairy Tail, Harry would smack him upside the head, and Loke would tease Harry about some girl named Mavis- the two just fit together too well. Scarily well.

On top of that, there was that night and Mira highly doubted two strangers would be so eager to try and find each other.

"Your hair's more golden," Harry said as he waved Mira over, interrupting her thoughts. Loke tilted his head, allowing his hair to flop over his face and his glasses to slide down his nose.

"Hm?"

"You know, than before."

Loke shrugged. "Comes with the master, I suppose."

Then there was the tenses, Mira thought. Before. More. Back when. The two had spent more than a day together, heck, if she was betting with Elfman, she'd say that they'd been flat mates.

She slid two beer mugs across the glossy wooden countertops, sloshing alcohol onto the table. "Two for the men," she said. "You mind me butting in?"

"Sure!" Harry chirruped.

And Harry was always so moody. One moment, he seemed like a depressed war hero and the next, Mr. Sunshine himself. Loke never commented on it. He just went with Harry, as if that was normal and Loke knew it.

"Are you two in a relationship?" Mira asked.

Loke and Harry both recoiled, Loke's lip turning upwards in disgust and Harry's hands waving. "No!" Harry said. "No, no and did I forget to mention? No. Brotherly love, maybe, but not love."

"You two just really seemed to hit it off," Mira teased. "Like real lovers."

"He's my brother!" The two were synchronized. There words were sure, without a single note of doubt. Their eyes were flaming and their teeth were bared, like they were wild animals. Brothers then.

"Kidding, kidding," Mira said.

It was hard to pin if Loke would be the older brother or if Harry would. Harry's face still clung onto the edges of youth, in the soft corners of his eyes and the smooth transition between his jawbone and his skull near his ear. Loke, on the other hand, held the look of a teenager on the threshold of adulthood, his fingers long and skilled but his attitude immature. But with a pint in him and his hair sticking up every which way, Harry almost looked- and acted like- a toddler on a sugar high.

"We just fit," Harry said, chugging down his drink.

Loke nodded. "Mhm. Fit together."

"Like brothers?"

"'Could say that."

Glaring at Harry, Loke snatched the now empty beer mug out of the wizard's hands. "No more," he hissed. "You don't need to be getting drunk like you did when she left."

"That was a bottle of vodka!"

"That was your low alcohol tolerance, and a bottle of red wine!"

"That was you being a jerk!"

"That was you pretending like she was the sun and the moon!"

"I wasn't pretending!"

Inside jokes. A shared history they never talked about. Both men with a smirk on their face, thinking that they've got the one-up, that they're the ones who have the better retorts. That they're superior.

"I wasn't kidding!"

"Stop bickering," Mira commanded. Loke's fist was draw back, Harry was reaching for his satchel, and both men were half crouched in their seats, prepared to spring upon each other in a moment's notice.

Not afraid to come to blows. Familiar.

"Yes, mother," Loke said.

Harry knocked Loke upside the head with a glare. His other hand traced the designs of the counter, following the swirls like his finger was a boat and the grain of the wood was the wave that tossed it around. His glasses hung off the tip of his nose, threatening to fall off and smash onto the floor. Loke rubbed his head grudgingly. Harry's tongue jutted out of his mouth. Loke huffed. Harry smiled like the cat who got the warm milk.

Brothers.

Brother.

That's a good way to describe the stranger who fits into Fairy Tail. He doesn't talk about the past and tries to deny it, even though it only takes five minutes to see right through him. He's a strange enigma who talks to everyone, who can disappear in a crowd faster than Mira can. He's a magician of his own sort, who has the potential to be a summoner but refuses to attempt to interact with Lucy.

He's Harry.

Harry, loudmouthed, black haired, physical, smiling, teasing, happy, strange, Potter.

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What is the random drunk scene that they discuss? BONUS CONTENT TIME!

"Five AM and I wake up," Harry, drunk, serenaded an eighteen year old Loke, "she's gone; I'm drinking by the window. Got some beer, a bottle of wine, 'cause it's sure not life without her."

Liquid sloshed from Harry's drink to the floor, the red wine he was drinking, tinting the cream colored carpet beneath him pink.

"Hey," Loke said as he made for the shot glass in Harry's hands, "try not to ruin the carpet, please."

"She called; it was four AM. Said she couldn't go on because of the problems we had. I tried to reason with her-"

"You're out of it." Loke threw his hands up in the air, giving up all attempts to grab Harry's drink. "You can't reason, you're drunk, you're mourning over something that never happened-"

Harry glared at Loke, effectively cutting his brother off, and downed the small amount of wine left in his glass. "She broke up with me and said that she had other responsibilities. Some guild thingy that helps Fairies."

"So what?" Loke shouted at Harry. "You're going to get drunk off your ass and mope around, singing some demented country song?"

"Yes." Harry childishly replied. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. Deal with it."

"Oh no, you're not. That's not happening, Mr. I'm so tough."

"I am tough. I can wield your key like some sort of badass. Wait; that sounded wrong. Or did it sound right? I'm not sure."

"Like you firing off gay jokes when you're drunk isn't new."

"Shove off."

"Go to bed."

"You know what? I will," Harry staggered up from his seat. The wine glass slipped through his fingers and Loke was barely able to catch it before it shattered on the floor. "Night."

Loke, leaning down, mouth hanging open, considered giving his Mage the middle finger as the man walked down the hallway, slamming into screaming magical portraits and almost stubbing his toe on an offending doorframe.

When Loke thought about all the curses a drunk Harry could cast? No, the middle finger was not worth it.

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Well then. With that note, I leave the story as complete.

After God- knows how many years, all my teenage angst and high school, this story is done. I hope you guys enjoyed, and sorry for leaving off so suddenly. I feel like I can no longer do these characters in this setting any justice and I hope that some readers are inspired to take their own twist on this idea.

Thanks for sticking around, everyone! Feel free to drop off a PM if you have burning questions about the story, or leave a review. :3

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3/16/2016: This story just reached 100,000 views.

It's such a weird feeling, knowing that people are still enjoying this after so many years. I'm hoping to (possibly) write an epilogue chapter in tribute; if anyone's got any suggestions or tidbits of inspiration, please leave 'em! It's been a year since I've played around in this sandbox, and I want to write something that knocks the socks off this epilogue. :)