(A/N: Rated M for mature content and language.

I'm a bit nervous to dip my toe into the Supernatural fandom... but this popped in my head and... I don't know, I guess I couldn't not write it. So, here it is. I present my Harry Potter-Supernatural Cross-over fic.

Er, just a heads up; I might go off canon a bit (for both fandoms). I'm probably gonna have to make some stuff up and tweak a bit here and there to bring them together in a semi-coherent way. I'll try to keep it realistic... but I think there will have to be a little bending here and there to meld the two worlds. I'm gonna just wildly stab at a time-line and say this takes place about season five (?), but this won't really take anything from a particular episode so the time-line isn't all that important. (Hopefully there aren't going to be any major spoilers... and if so; Sorry!)

And yes; it's really a Bobby Singer/Harry Potter SLASH fic. I know. But for some reason, they worked quite well in my imagination. Hopefully it's not going to be completely... uhm... gross. Heh. So, keep in mind if you continue: Bobby. Harry. Slash. Yup, seriously. (There might be some hints of Destiel [not sure just how into that I'll get, though I totally ship the hell outta that], but it'll be in mention/innuendo only. I'll give a holler if that changes.)

Overall warnings: MalexMale slash. Smut. Language. Mentions of demons/angels/religion (not always favorably). Death. Blood/Gore. Violence... you know, all the good Supernatural stuff.

Enjoy! :))

"And then when you ganked tha—"

Dean paused mid sentence, both speaking and walking, as he entered Bobby's living room. He barely even noticed Sam crashing into his back, nearly knocking him over and sending them both on their asses. His eyes went wide and his mouth went slack as he took in the sight before him. He vaguely noted Sammy leaning around him a little with a confused "Dean?" before he too went still.

Normally, he'd laugh at the squeaking little squawk sound his brother made, but being as how he nearly made the same sound, he kept quiet. And he was stunned stupid.

Bobby (at least, from what he could see of the man, he was pretty sure it was Bobby) was sitting in one of his comfy armchairs. Someone was straddling his lap and kissing the ever-lovin' daylights out of the older hunter. The wet, distinctive sounds of a heated make-out session were hard to mistake. And completely unexpected.

It had to be Bobby, even if it was hard to believe. Who else would be sitting in Bobby's chair? In Bobby's living room? IN Bobby's house? And those looked like Bobby's hands...

It took almost an entire minute for the realization to dawn that the someone in Bobby's lap was decidedly male; The denim clad hips were narrow. The lightly defined back muscles moving fluidly (and yeah—erotically) were too masculine to be a woman's. The black hair was short and messy—a haphazard cut no girl would ever be caught dead in. And the soft moans that weren't Bobby's (Ugh... ew) were deep pitched.

Yup; definitely a dude. Which just made all sorts of questions and exclamations stampede through Dean's head.

Holy fuck. When did Bobby get with a guy? Holy shit! How long had Bobby been making out with a guy? OH MY GOD! Why was Bobby with a guy?!

"Holy shit!" Dean practically yelled when his paralysis broke. He grimaced when the guy straddling Bobby went still (thankfully, so did Bobby's hands on the dude's ass) and turned his head towards him. There was a flicker of surprise in wide green eyes but also recognition, too. He scowled, suddenly uncomfortable to be recognized by a complete stranger. Who the hell was this guy? He blinked when the guy turned around again and let his head rest on Bobby's shoulder. He really didn't want to know where the dude's hands were now that they've untangled from Bobby's hair and disappeared from sight.

He blinked again, a few times, when he realized he could see Bobby's hair. OK, that was just too damn weird.

"Uhhh— Bobby?"

Bobby muttered a curse, gave Harry an apologetic look and leaned around him to glare at the cock-blocking Winchester boys. "What?" he grunted, not even bothering to hide his annoyance (and frustration). He slammed his cap back on, retrieving it from his knee where Harry had placed it when they got down to kissin' in earnest.

"Uh—" Dean said intelligently, his eyes flicking between Bobby's annoyed face and the dark-haired guy's back. He wasn't sure why but he was more comfortable with the situation before he knew the guy was... well, a guy. (He honestly didn't begrudge Bobby a little action; the dude's had the longest dry spell of anyone he's ever known.) The still form perched in Bobby's lap looked young, too. Like, creepily young in comparison to Bobby. Hell, he even looked younger than Sammy. Kinda gross, really. "What the hell is goin' on?"

Bobby grunted with annoyance but didn't shift Harry any. He didn't want to and he was even less looking forward to the Winchesters seeing his lap at the moment. "What the hell does it look like is goin' on?" he asked gruffly. He didn't appreciate being questioned in his own damn house. And it wasn't like either of the Winchesters were blushing virgins (the less said about Dean's heavily notched belt, the better); both knew damn well what was goin' on and he was pissed they interrupted. What a waste of a good boner.

"Sorry!" Sammy said loudly, finally getting use of his vocal chords back and overriding whatever rude thing Dean was, no doubt, going to say. He knew his brother wouldn't apologize, even though they really should for interrupting. "We didn't know," he said apologetically.

Even in his confusion and shock, he felt bad for intruding in on a private moment. And not just because it was getting steadily more awkward as everything sunk in. He had wanted to call first but Dean had practically smacked his phone out of his hand when he tried. He couldn't help shooting his brother a smug 'told you so' look, smirking a little when Dean just rolled his eyes and looked away with a grunting huff as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Bobby grunted again. "Of course you didn't, freakin' idjits..."

He sighed, annoyed he hadn't heard the Impala's grumbling engine (he musta been really caught up in Harry not to've heard that) and he almost regretted the open-door policy he had with John's boys. He never cared when they showed up. Before now. And just his luck, too, it would be smack dab in the middle of Harry lovin' on him. Well, at least they didn't catch him or Harry in a further state of indecency... which, in another few minutes they would have. There's something to be said for small favors.

He patted Harry gently on the butt and he smiled a little in thanks when the younger man carefully climbed off of his lap. He raised an eyebrow, concerned Harry hadn't said a word yet. And he was doing that nervous shifting thing, the inside of his bottom lip being gnawed on by his teeth. He didn't know why Harry thought it was unnoticeable, thinking he was hiding that little sign of his nerves, so he didn't point it out or stare too long.

Bobby sighed, annoyed all over again at the Winchesters for interrupting and making Harry feel awkward. He hadn't seen Harry this awkward in his home since the first time he walked through the door, warily looking around waiting for a trap to spring. Damn Winchesters were—to borrow a phrase from Harry—bloody wankers. But Harry being quiet wasn't that odd an occurrence; the younger man was normally a man of few words.

He probably liked that the most about Harry (right after his ass and the shamelessly direct way he spoke when he did say something); he didn't prattle on or babble endlessly about inane topics. He could have a quiet, comfortable silence with the younger man for hours and it was nice. Peaceful.

"Er... Shall I wait outside?" Harry asked, looking only at Bobby. He could feel the intense gaze on his back from the Winchesters but he wasn't going to look at them just yet. He didn't want to even introduce himself until he got some sort of hint from Bobby. They'd spoken about Dean and Sam, of course, but he hadn't expected to meet them just yet. And by the looks of Bobby, he hadn't either.

He knew it would happen someday; he just hadn't expected to be caught straddling Bobby and writhing around like a crup in heat at the time, though. It was a little embarrassing, honestly. He reckoned it had to be akin to walking in on one's parents, only a little worse...

Bobby sighed, pinching his cap between his thumb and index finger as he ran the rest of his fingers through his hair. He rubbed at his forehead and settled his cap back on with a huff. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. For now," he added, making it clear he didn't want Harry to leave. He pulled Harry in closer, pitching his voice low so only the wizard could hear him, "I won't tell 'em about ya... not everything," he said with a pointed look. Harry just nodded, a small understanding smile quirking the corner of his lips. "But I will share just a little, 'cause they're gonna be sniffin' for answers like the nosy bastards they are."

"Yeah, I know. It's fine," Harry said and gently ran his fingertips over Bobby's cheek, just above his beard. He gave the older man a small smile, "I'll wander back in an hour for dinner, yeah?" Bobby just nodded. He stood upright and finally turned around, regarding the Winchesters with a carefully blank expression.

He knew quite a bit about the two men standing in front of him, still a bit wide-eyed and gaping like idiots. He had actually looked forward to meeting them (well, Sam at least; everything Bobby had told him about the younger Winchester had reminded him strongly of Hermione) and, at the moment, he wasn't sure how that was going to go. He nearly turned to glare at Bobby; the overwhelming height of both men was conveniently left out of Bobby's descriptions. As well as the fact they were both bloody gorgeous. (Not that Bobby would notice that.)

The surprise of the situation alone made for an awkward first meeting. All in all, he was thankful he wasn't meeting them with a bulge in his jeans (it having successfully been chased off, thank Merlin). He looked between the two brothers, feeling decidedly short. He was 5'5" or so (5'7" in his sturdiest boots, thankyouverymuch) and both Winchesters positively dwarfed him. He was used to being the shortest bloke in a bunch, though, and it didn't intimidate him as much as they were probably hoping for. He subtly fingered his wand, unable to help himself, when he took in Dean's expression. He couldn't exactly read it, but it wasn't a pleasant one. Or welcoming.

He cleared his throat and looked up at the youngest Winchester, immediately pegging him as the more rational one. Also, the more polite. "Hello. I'm Harry. Harry Potter," he said and extended a hand. He offered a small smile and it was returned, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"Sam Winchester," the taller brother said after moment of surprise. He slowly shook the smaller man's hand, keeping the weird tingling feeling he felt as their palms met, and again when they separated, to himself. It was odd... His shoulders tensed and he looked over at Bobby curiously when he noticed the older Hunter staring at him intently, almost as if he was expecting a reaction. "This is Dean," he said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. Both as indication and as a silent plea for his brother to be nice. He squeezed his hand gently, stressing 'please be nice' silently.

Dean's eyes flicked all over the younger man's face and body; from his utter mess of black hair (he so didn't wanna know why it was all messy and looked like fingers had been through it—repeatedly) and down his scrawny body to his kick-ass boots. Up close the dude looked even younger. And shorter. What the hell was Bobby thinking? "What are you? Twelve?" he blurted out. He raised an eyebrow, not bothering to withdraw his question or back down. He hadn't meant to blurt it out but damn it, he wanted to know. He was still confused there was another guy here at all, let alone (apparently) sexing up Bobby.

It was weird to know Bobby had to trust the guy implicitly... otherwise he wouldn't be in his house. Or in his lap. He felt irritated to be meeting the guy now (and like this) since it was pretty damn likely they'd known each other awhile. At least he hoped to Christ they did. He didn't think he could handle it if Bobby had suddenly taken to bringing home strange twinks.

"No," Harry said, amusement heavy in his tone. He should probably be offended, both for himself and on Bobby's behalf (like the man would canoodle with someone under-aged!). He smirked and folded his arms over his chest as he raised his chin in a way that gave the impression he was looking down his nose at Dean, even as he was forced to look up. He mentally snickered, knowing it would've made Malfoy proud. "I'm nearly 30," he said and smirked, enjoying the stunned expressions on both Winchesters' faces. "Good genes," he added with a wink, as by way of explanation.

Sam looked between Harry and Bobby, both were amused and some underlying twinkle in their eyes that lead him to think there was more to it than just 'good genes'. A private joke, maybe. He didn't know what though... He blinked when Harry clapped his hands, the sound quite loud and sharp in the quiet room.

"Right," Harry said brightly. "I'll leave you lot to your happy reunion." And with that, he slipped past the Winchesters and was outside before anyone in the room even blinked.

He shook his head and walked the familiar path along the junked cars in Singer's Salvage Yard. He didn't know why he was drawn to the old Ford Fairlane, but whenever he needed some quiet space to think (or brood), it was where he went. He stroked a finger along the faded red paint, his finger leaving a trail in the fine dust covering the car. A quick cleaning charm banished the dust and grime that had accumulated since he had last sat in the car and he slid into the seat. He sighed heavily and just let his head flop backwards to rest on the headrest.

He hoped Bobby was alright. He didn't think there'd be an issue with Sam but from what he'd been told, Dean was quite the hothead. Quick to react with violence and loud shouts; that he saw the world in stark black and white. Things that were OK and things that needed to be Hunted. Witches, he knew, were on Dean's 'things that needed to be Hunted' list. He wondered if the elder Winchester would care his magic wasn't from a demon or any deals. (He couldn't explain where it came from, if pressed for an answer. He was just born with it like any other wizard and witch.)

He knew Bobby could handle himself, but he knew the older man cared for those Winchesters like family—it would be a hard blow to recover from if they reacted negatively. As long as it was only shouting and not actually weapons being drawn, that is. He closed his eyes, feeling weighed down with the morose certainty there would be some issues to be worked through. He didn't know where he'd end up and he felt a little selfish to hope that if given an ultimatum, Bobby would choose him.

Or at least give it more than a few seconds thought before he was chucked out on his arse.

"Woah," Sam murmured, blinking a few times. "Uh."

He had questions whirling around his head, but most seemed rude to ask. Bobby's personal business was his own—he really didn't want to know more. But he was curious, dammit. How long had Bobby known Harry? How did they meet? Where did they meet? Why hadn't they met Harry before? They looked serious enough and he felt rather put-out to have not even heard about the guy before now. It wasn't reassuring to know Bobby was keeping things from them.

Bobby grunted and kicked a foot out, stretching his leg a bit. Harry wasn't exactly heavy but he was on the verge of his lower leg falling asleep from the younger man being perched in his lap the way he was. He gave a disgruntled look to the stunned Winchesters. Another few moments and he wouldn't have had to worry about a numb ass or legs. Damn idjits. "Out with it," he demanded in a low growl.

He looked between the Winchesters. He knew what they wanted to know. Trouble was, he didn't exactly have all the answers they'd want. He could explain a little about Harry; where he was from, how they met. But not exactly the nature of their relationship. He couldn't really explain his relationship with Harry, even if he tried. He knew he cared about Harry—hell, it was probably love at this point—but he wouldn't share that. That was between him and Harry.

Sometimes, it still struck him in a surreal way that he was even with the younger man. He had known the kid for years and he felt like a dirty old man when he had started to think of him in ways he had no business doin' (not that it stopped him). It had taken months for him to even admit, to himself, what he felt for the younger man went past friendship (or just an understanding like he had with any other Hunter he ever met and trusted enough to work with). It was new and completely unexpected. He had never noticed another man before like he had Harry. Ever.

He still felt like a dirty old man at times. (Especially when Harry would be kissing on him or doing that thing with his hips or his tongue. He felt like a certifiable pervert when he'd watch Harry ride him with that blissed-out look on his sweet face and he loved every damn second of it.) That didn't stop him or keep him from Harry, either. Not that he had much say in it, really. Once Harry had gotten the hint that his feelings might be returned, he pretty much lost any chance of ever refusing the younger man. Harry was a stubborn force of nature that even the likes of one Bobby Singer couldn't hold up against.

And really, it wasn't so terrible. Except when he was interrupted by the boys currently staring at him like he had wings or horns or some crazy shit. As his thoughts circled back to the Winchesters, he scowled at them, waiting for the chuckle-heads to get on with their questions.

"What's with Tiny Tim?" Dean asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. He chuckled at his own joke, ignoring the pissy look Sam was trying to give him.

Bobby glared at the oldest Winchester and grunted. Damn idjit and his jokes. "That's Harry."

"Yeah, we totally got that was Harry," Dean said flatly. "Who the hell is Harry?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he folded his arms over his chest. "And more importantly; why was he in your lap like an overgrown kitten?"

Bobby grunted and shook his head. "Harry is Harry," he said with a shrug. They hadn't defined their relationship and he wasn't about to go into that with Dean. He felt too damn old to be saying 'boyfriend' and 'partner' just sounded... off when they weren't Hunting together (well, Harry out Hunting after he'd dumped a shit-ton of research on the young man). He was content to just have him as his Harry and leave it at that. "And—" He smirked as he adjusted his cap again. "He was in my lap, Dean Winchester, because that's where I like 'im."

"But—" Dean sputtered for a few moments, his arms unfolding so his hand could flop around wildly. "He's a dude!"

Bobby grunted again and couldn't stop the smirk from widening a bit. "Yeah, I'm quite aware he's a dude," he said pointedly.

And really, he was. Once he got over that little issue, he found he enjoyed the fact Harry was a man. It took him awhile to get there, but he did in the end. It became less a matter of Harry being a man as he was... Harry. The first time he touched the younger man intimately, it surprised him how easy it had been—almost making him wanna slap himself for freakin' out and hesitating all those months. It really wasn't much different than jerkin' himself, speaking about the feel of a dick in his hand wise, but with much better results.

"Oh, gross!" Dean said and grimaced, looking away from the smug leer. There was just something wrong with the world when Bobby made a sex face. "Bobby, don't make that face. Ever. Again."

Bobby chuckled lowly. "Can it Winchester. I ain't dead, and as such, I ain't gonna pretend you didn't see what you saw."

"That's fucked up on so many levels," Dean said, turning to Sam. "I actually understood what he just said." He snorted and flopped into a chair, moving his feet enough so Sam could shuffle past and sit down, too.

Sam just nodded, chuckling softly. He was less surprised of the who (or the gender of the who) and more that there even was a someone. Bobby had always seemed the type that would go to his grave without opening his heart again. He felt an odd sort of pride that Bobby hadn't let his ability to care about someone die with his wife, Karen. Bobby deserved a chance at happiness just like anyone else—it didn't happen often. He knew Dean would laugh at him for such a 'chick flick' thought, so he didn't voice it aloud. But he should probably mention it to Bobby at some point, even if it made the older hunter squirm and threaten to shoot him in the ass.

He perched his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together, cocking his head a little as he looked at Bobby curiously. "So, Harry?" he asked, making it clear he wanted more details about the guy, not their... involvement.

"I knew his parents," Bobby said after a few moments thought. He had felt terrible to learn Harry's parents had died but by the time he found out about it, Harry was a teenager and already neck-deep in a world of shit he couldn't have helped with— even if he had known about it. He shrugged a little at Sam's openly curious expression. "Good people."

Sam found himself across the room and sitting on the sofa nearest Bobby in a blink. He leaned forward, curiosity plain on his face. He ignored Dean's grunt of annoyance. "Were they Hunters, too?" He paused and his eyebrows pinched together. "Is Harry a Hunter?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. Harry was tiny, even compared to normal people. And he was skinny—almost verging on puny, really. He couldn't imagine Harry being able to Hunt anything... at least, not successfully. But it was really the only explanation how he'd know Bobby so well in the first place.

"Yes and no," Bobby said carefully. He knew he wasn't going to give the Winchesters Harry's full back story; it wasn't his to tell and he honestly was a little afraid of how they'd react. Mostly Dean. That idjit usually acted first and thought later—if at all. Which always meant a gun in his hand and him shootin' something without a second thought. He couldn't say that sort of thing hadn't saved him or his brother's ass more than once, but he nearly shuddered at the mental image of Dean shoving a gun under Harry's chin...

"His parents were Hunters... more or less. But they were cops, of a sort. Harry—he is a Hunter, I guess you could say. Started really young, too."

He took his cap off and fiddled with the bill, averting his eyes from the Winchesters. He wasn't keen on showing either of 'em how he felt about that. It still made his gut clench with a useless sort of anger at the knowledge Harry was chucked in the shit when he was barely into doubt digits. It was so damn close to the Winchester boys' history—the pair of them thrown into the real world before they were old enough to wipe themselves. Sam was too observant for his own good and he didn't want to answer anything like that about Harry without the young man present. He knew how much it bothered the wizard to be talked about...

He also knew Harry hated the reason he got into Hunting (not that they all didn't have painfully personal reasons) but the younger man had a knack for it that was uncanny. Preternatural. Not only did Harry excel with his magic (even making up a few spells or hexes on his own) but he was damn skilled with any weapon he got his hands on. He had nearly pissed himself the first time he saw Harry—the kid was taking on a werewolf with only his reflexes and a silver dagger. It somewhat allayed his fears that the wizard could handle himself but still... No one wanted to see someone they care about in that sort of situation.

Dean looked a little impressed, despite himself. His thoughts mirrored Sam's; Harry was too puny to fight anything off. How did he manage to not get himself killed already? Maybe he was one of those guys that learned to use his midgetness to his advantage; shooting kneecaps or kicking out people's legs or punching them in the balls. "And?" he asked, when Bobby didn't continue. "How the hell does that lead to him sucking your face?"

"That ain't none of your concern, Dean."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, probably not. But, man, Bobby... You gotta see how messed up this is. You're suddenly into guys? Young guys? How long you been with him, anyway?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. It couldn't have been more than a few weeks since they'd been to Bobby's and this was the first they'd heard about Harry. And they looked way too cozy with each other to be in a new... thing. He wanted to bleach his brain at the very idea of the words 'Bobby' and 'thing' being connected.

"Almost a year," Bobby said with a grunt. Obviously he had known the wizard longer but they only got serious about each other a little under a year ago. He didn't think either boy needed to hear about them tap-dancing around each other another year or so before that. A man is allowed some secrets (especially if they saved two idjit's sanity and his dignity).

"But... We've never met him before."

Bobby nodded, adjusting his cap again. "Yeah, I know that. Ain't no reason for you two to have met him before. Harry doesn't live around here, but he visits on occasion." Though, Harry's 'occasions' had been a lot more frequent the past few months, which he liked more than he was willing to admit, and he was actually surprised this situation hadn't come up already.

"He shy or somethin'?" Dean asked with a smirk.

Bobby glared and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. "I 'spose you could say that. He's not had the best luck with strangers," he said with a wry smile. "Look, I woulda mentioned him if I had thought about it. I didn't," he said unapologetically. He scowled a little; he didn't owe either of them an explanation.

"Why not? You guys looked... close," Sam said, hesitating a moment at the end. It wasn't just the intimate way Harry had been sitting on Bobby but their body language. Even though he only saw them interact that little bit, it wasn't hard to miss the two Hunters were indeed close, in all sorts of ways. He didn't exactly buy that Bobby didn't 'think about' Harry...

Bobby nodded and rubbed a hand over his face irritably. "Yeah, we are. That don't mean I'm gonna go blabbing about my personal business like we're a buncha girls having a slumber party."

"No," Sam said quickly, ignoring Dean's elbow in his ribs and his muttered 'yeah, Samantha'. "I didn't mean that. I just meant... Like—" He looked to Dean for help and huffed when his brother only smirked at him and shrugged. He glared when Dean made a show of making himself comfortable, staying unhelpfully silent as he folded his hands behind his head and leaned back like a douche. He looked back to Bobby. "I just meant that if you guys were close, we should have met. You know? It seems like your hiding him... or us..." he said, his shoulders slumping a bit.

The thought that Bobby might be ashamed of him (or Dean) kinda hurt. They were practically family. He could admit both of them had given Bobby a few reasons to be, if it were the case. He couldn't seem to help it, his face moved into a puppy-eyed look that had Bobby cursing and whipping his cap off with a grunt.

"Stop that!" Bobby scolded, annoyed Sam was manipulating him... or at least trying to. "It ain't like that. So quit yer bitchin' and just accept that you're meetin' 'im now."

Sam nodded, settling back in his chair and thinking over what little they had been told about Harry. "So, are his parents dead?" he asked slowly, getting that impression from how Bobby had spoken of them earlier. Bobby nodded. "Killed by something?" Another nod. "That sucks," he said softly, knowing how it felt to have one's parents murdered. "And he's a Hunter?" he asked, wanting to be sure of the answer (Bobby's answers so far being kinda vague). If he was, they wouldn't have to tiptoe around the guy if he stuck around.

"Basically," Bobby grunted. Harry did Hunt but he seemed to flit between the regular world and magical worlds when it came to ganking the supernatural baddies. Unsurprisingly, he had a special knack when it came to magical creatures. Which was handy because most were fuckin' terrifying and hard to kill without that extra mojo. "He's... stronger than he looks," he said, scowling when both Winchesters gave him looks that said 'yeah, right'. He held up his hands, leaning back in chair with a sharp smile. "Fine, suit yourselves. But don't come cryin' to me when he hands you your asses should you be stupid enough to test him."

And maybe it was a little mean, but he hoped Dean would test Harry. Dean needed to be thumped—hard— sometimes for shit to sink in. And he really wouldn't mind seeing Harry doing his thing, either. He snickered; Harry wouldn't even need a weapon or his wand, neither.

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. Sure. Like Tiny Tim could touch him. He chuckled when Bobby gave him that 'you'll see' look and he just shook his head. He elbowed Sam, "You wanna break the bad news or should I?"

"It's not bad news, Dean," Sam said with a long suffering sigh. His face screwed up into what Dean liked to call his Bitch Face Number Four, but his brother had earned the look. Numerous times. "It's really not," he said to Bobby when the older Hunter leaned forward, looking a little worried. Bad news to Hunters was generally really bad for normal circumstances. And for them? End-of-the-world sort of shit. He smacked Dean's arm, "Stop freakin' Bobby out!"

Dean rubbed his arm and glared at his brother. Damn that stung! "Well, it's bad news to me," he said petulantly.

"For the love of—! Someone tell me what is goin' on!" Bobby yelled, interrupting the brothers making faces and slapping at each other like a pair of five-year-olds.

Dean was still rubbing his arm, Sammy didn't bother to pull his smack at all, the freakin' Sasquatch! "That diner with the best pie? You know, the best pie, ever?" Bobby nodded, his brows slowly pinching together. "Burned down," he said mournfully. He actually felt the urge to tear up but he didn't. He wasn't going to start bawling his eyes out over pie like some girl. No matter how good it was. The fire wasn't supernatural in nature—just one of them shitty luck sorta things. The best pie. Ever. Gone just because some jackhole left a fryer on.

"Why am I not surprised you'd consider that bad news," Bobby said blandly, glaring at Dean. He looked up when the front door clicked closed but he didn't see Harry enter the room. He smiled a little when he heard light footsteps head towards the kitchen and he hoped Harry would find something in the 'fridge. He wasn't ashamed to list Harry's cooking was high on the list of 'Things I Love About Harry'—the wizard's cooking was magic (uhm, pun intended). "What?" he grumbled, noticing the Winchesters staring at him.

Sam and Dean both shook their heads. "Nothin'," they said at the same time. Dean stood and retrieved his bag from where he dropped it by the front door. "Well, as fun as this has been—" He smirked. "I'm gonna go settle in." He went up the stairs, not even bothering to see what Sam was going to do. He figured he'd nerd out some more and he really didn't need to stay around for that.

"Whatever," Bobby said, his attention still on the kitchen. He practically rubbed his hands together with glee as he heard the distant sounds of sizzling and the glorious smell of searing meat wafted into the room. Harry had to have brought groceries; he didn't recall having any sort of meat in the 'fridge.

Sam turned his head a little, an eyebrow rising up his forehead. "Harry cooks?" he asked, sounding a bit more eager than he intended. He hadn't had a home cooked meal in... awhile. He couldn't even remember the last time he had, actually. He was sick of diner food and sandwiches. He inhaled deeply, his stomach grumbling at the fantastic aroma coming from the kitchen.

"Yeah, damn good at it too," Bobby said absently. He didn't know where the wizard learned and didn't really care. He just thanked all those responsible that his wizard could and enjoyed doing it. He turned back to the youngest Winchester. "You gonna bitch if he doesn't make a salad?" he asked with a soft grunt, but it was clear he was teasing.

Sam huffed and crossed his arms. Why does everyone make fun of him for wanting to eat healthy?! "No," he said with a sulk. "I'm sure whatever he makes will be fine."

"Damn right," Bobby muttered.

He settled back in his chair again, content with the knowledge that Harry wasn't sitting out in the old Ford, sulking and feeling dejected any longer. He hoped Harry got dinner settled enough to come join him soon, though. He knew Sam would only be able to control his curiosity for so long and didn't look forward to Harry being ambushed in the kitchen. That young man had a bad startled reflex sometimes and he didn't look forward to Sam getting his balls hexed off. He looked up a few minutes later when Harry peeked around the corner, his green eyes darting around the room in that way he had.

Harry slunk into the room (a bit relieved to see it contained only Bobby and the tall one) his mug of tea clutched tightly between both hands. He looked between the available seats and shrugged, settling himself on the arm of Bobby's chair instead. He'd rather sit in the older man's lap, but there was only so much he was sure Sam could take so soon. He saw the younger Winchester looking at him with unveiled curiosity, questions practically shining in the hazel eyes. He sighed softly and sipped his tea. "Ask away," he said, waving a hand at Sam.

"Oh," Sam startled. He hadn't been expecting Harry to just... give him the go ahead. He darted a look at Bobby and tried not to squirm around. "Uh. Are you sure?"

Harry nodded and adjusted himself on the chair arm, hopefully finding a spot that wouldn't make his bum go numb too quickly. "Yeah, I'm sure. I know a bit about you and your brother already, so it's only fair, yeah?"

"I see," Sam said slowly, rubbing at his chin. He was trying to figure out the best question to start with. He didn't want to get too personal and immediately offend the guy. "OK. Uhm. So, Bobby says you're a Hunter?" Harry nodded, his eyes going sad for a moment. Sam felt a bit bad for that, not liking the normally bright green to dull even for that moment; now he kinda knew what Dean meant when he said he looked like a kicked puppy making a similar face. He flinched a little when Bobby glared at him, feeling like a scolded little kid. "Sorry," he said sincerely. "Uhm... How did you get into it?"

Harry rested a hand on Bobby's shoulder when he felt the man tense, ready to spring forward and start calling Sam an 'idjit' or tell him it wasn't his business. It wasn't, not really, but he knew about the brothers' past, so really, it did only seem fair. He really didn't expect to be parting from Bobby anytime soon and the Winchesters were like his family. No time like the present and all that shit.

"Well..."

Sam gaped, sitting completely still and utterly mesmerized as he sat and listened to Harry's story; he had the feeling it was condensed, but it was still a lot to take in. He had noticed the odd scar on the guy's head a time or two whenever his messy hair shifted enough. The messy black mop was rather long in front and nearly covered the green eyes on that side and he realized it was deliberately done. He didn't blame Harry; he'd hide the damn thing, too, if people always stared at it. By the time Harry was giving him a stilted explanation about his training as a special agent, Sam's brows pinched together.

"Wait, wait—" He held up a hand.

Harry paused, worrying his bottom lip. He had tried to keep any reference to magic out of his story and he was sure Sam hadn't noticed anything weird. Until now. He had the same look Hermione got when she was trying to connect dots and come to a conclusion. Bullocks. Of all the times to forget he was talking to 'the smart one'.

"Something's... off..." Sam trailed off, eyeing Harry closely. "What aren't you saying?" he asked, looking at Harry. He didn't like being lied to. "I mean, if you don't want to say, just say that. But don't lie." He really wanted to trust Harry, especially since Bobby did, but he couldn't see that happening if the guy started lying 10 minutes into meeting each other.

Harry sighed and didn't object when Bobby's arm snaked around his waist. His eyes darted towards the stairs and he really hoped Dean wasn't listening in. He studied Sam, trying to sort out just what to tell the bloke. He felt like kicking himself in the arse for the vague way he described his brief time with the Auror department (and then the Unspeakables when he found out he hated being an Auror). He didn't know which part twanged Sam's lie-antennae, but he still should have left that part out.

He pursed his lips and a quick peek at Bobby had him sighing again and going for full disclosure when the older man merely stared back impassively. Great; Bobby was leaving it all up to him. He sighed again at rubbed at his forehead. If he was going to be staying around Bobby (and he was), the Winchesters would be there, too. He couldn't hide or lie about magic for the foreseeable future. Not successfully and not without feeling like a massive sneak.

"I'm a wizard," he said quietly.

"A wiz—What?!"

Harry nodded slowly, unconsciously sinking into Bobby's side when Sam's eyes widened and the tall man went very still. He found he didn't mind the blatant disbelief on the other man's face; he was just glad there wasn't a gun in his hand.