Spoilers: thru HBP for HP, AU thru X-Men United (with a bit of history from the comics) for X-Men
Summary: What happens when Harry Potter and Remy LeBeau meet in a bar in upstate New York? There's something about Remy's mysterious new friend that makes him feel safe.
AN: This has been in the back of my mind for a while, when I learned they were filming the third X-men film. Of course, they didn't put one of my favorite X-Men in the film, so I decided that I would finally put this down on paper - well, figuratively. I am NOT attempting to write Remy's accent. This story is complete. Each chapter will be put up when it comes back from the beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: I don't own HP or X-Men. That would be JK Rowling and Marvel Comics respectively.
The bar was dimly lit and there was the restless murmur of its other occupants as Remy waited for Rogue to appear. He had been waiting over an hour for her, and it looked like she wasn't going to show - making him wonder if she cared enough anymore. He had wanted to spend a little time alone with her while he had the chance, but it was becoming more and more obvious that she didn't want to try.
While he had been waiting, he had been watching the others here in this bar, seeing many of the local residents quietly talking to each other, or watching the local college football team game on the many televisions. However, it was the lone person in the back corner that had occupied most of his attention, when it hadn't been on the door on the lookout for Rogue.
The man was seated in the booth farthest from the door, nursing a drink that looked like the liquid was at the same level when he'd first spotted him. From what he could see, the stranger had dark hair and light eyes, but he couldn't define much more than that in the semi-darkness most bars thought required.
Now that his 'date' wasn't going to show, he wanted to find out more about the stranger who had decided to sit in this small-town bar on a Saturday night. He nodded at the bartender as he passed, picking up another beer, the glass neck cool against his hand. Weaving his way through the tables, he slowed down as he approached the stranger. There was a feeling that moved across his skin, almost making him want to turn around and go back to his table, but he ignored it.
Of course, sometimes his curiosity-killed-the-cat nosiness got him into a lot of trouble.
"Hello, mon ami," he greeted the stranger as he stopped at the edge of the booth. "Mind if I sit here? You looked like you could use some company."
He mentally stepped back when the man raised his face up to look at him. He had never seen such green eyes before, even if he had seen the look in them in his own mirror at one point or another. Still, he was determined to find out just who this stranger was.
Holding out his hand, he said, "My friends call me Remy, Remy LeBeau, while my enemies usually call me a wily bastard."
The green eyes narrowed, but otherwise the man didn't move. There was enough tension in the set of his shoulders to give Remy an indication that this man was dangerous if you got on his bad side. Still, he stood there for a minute as he continued to hold out his hand, waiting for the man to take it.
Finally, he began to drop it when it didn't look like the stranger was going to take it. "Sorry," he started to apologize.
The green eyes blinked, and there was a bit of life that appeared on the man's face. It was almost as if he hadn't been aware of Remy even standing there. The man shook his head slightly before unwrapping his hand from around his drink, taking Remy's hand in his.
There was a tingle that ran up Remy's arm and down his spine. It reminded him of the first time he shook Xavier's hand - there was a sense of great power in the green-eyed man's handshake that spoke volumes. And it intrigued him all the more because of it.
Remy smiled his most charming smile, the one that could get any of the females that roamed the school to forgive him. "Let's start over again, shall we?"
"It's Harry," the man said in a baritone voice. There was also a bit of an accent, intriguing him all the more for its foreignness.
When he said his name this time, the other man startled.
"Is Remy short for anything?" Harry asked. This time, Remy could distinguish that he was English.
Remy shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of." When Harry relaxed, he sat in the other side of the table of the booth. The beer bottle rattled as he set it down and he almost knocked it over as he overcorrected it. Harry's hand met his on the bottle in a lightning-quick motion that Remy was impressed with.
"Thanks, mon ami," he said in an absent-minded manner, thinking about the fact that he'd felt that tingling again.
"Mon ami?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised.
Remy shrugged. "I'm from New Orleans."
Harry stared at him. "So, what are you doing in New York?"
"Probably the same thing you're here for," Remy responded, trying to see how this stranger reacted.
Harry raised his glass and threw the contents down his throat, signaling to the passing waitress for another, despite the fact that he hadn't touched it before now. The green eyes looked at him with such intensity that Remy knew he had better back off.
Besides, the waitress had brought two drinks.
Remy pried one eye open to find one of the kids staring at him. It was one of the smaller kids, so he didn't know who it was.
"What are you doing out here?"
He twisted his head towards the scandalized voice and winced at the movement. He knew that voice, but he really wished she wasn't so loud.
"Remy LeBeau, how could you bring a stranger back from town?" the scolding voice asked, a little bit closer to his aching head.
"Rogue." It was a familiar voice that could probably pull even the most desperate person back from the brink of suicide. Mostly, Remy was grateful that it had shut up the woman. "Please escort the children to their classes. I believe the first bell is about to ring."
The bell went off a second later. Remy wanted to curl up into a ball, but there was a strange weight along his right hip and leg. Then it suddenly hit him that there weren't classes on Sunday, even though the last he'd known was that it was Saturday.
Remy opened his eyes once more, determined not to let a little of the late-summer daylight interfere with his curiosity/dread of finding out what happened. He was lying on the ground that sloped down from the basketball court to the small parking lot. There was a strange motorcycle parked there at the bottom, though it was the sight of a strange man laying against him that really caught his attention.
Saturday night came rushing back to him. Then Sunday hit him and his cheeks flushed. He swore at that moment in time that he would never drink any alcohol that had the word 'fire' in it.
He turned his head to find the professor watching him with a blank look, so he couldn't tell if he was disappointed or anything else with Remy. Of course, the professor was usually not very happy with Remy's personal habits in the first place.
"Merlin! What in the world happened?" Harry's British accent was clear, and it sounded to Remy as if he didn't have a hangover either. It was the bastard's own whiskey why there were sprawled on the front lawn of a school for mutants.
His side felt cold as Harry sat up. Remy took this time to reflect that he'd never seen such terrible bedhead before. And that he missed the tingling feeling he got when Harry touched him - and he wasn't being pervy either.
"Hello," came the professor's voice, startling both Remy and Harry. Remy looked to find the professor sitting a few feet away in his everyday chair, the sun slightly reflecting off of his bald head. There was a hint of melancholy in his eyes. "I am Professor Charles Xavier, and this is my School for Gifted Children."
Harry's body tensed for a short second, but Remy knew the Professor had also caught it. The green-eyed man turned to look at him before turning to the wheelchair-bound man. There was a weariness in those eyes, though it wasn't the fear or horror he'd seen in some people's expressions.
"Would you like to come in and refresh yourself?" the professor asked. "I believe that, judging by the length you were out with Mr. LeBeau, that a shower would not be unwelcome."
The green eyes looked back at Remy before Harry hesitantly nodded. "Will my bike be all right where it is, or shall I move it?"
Remy chuckled, then winced as the sound reverberated through his skull. "It could probably stay there if you don't mind fingerprints on it."
The shout startled all three of them. Then Harry shook his head.
"I'm sorry. It's better if no one touches it, as there are... defenses... built into it."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the professor nod. Remy himself was staring at his... new friend. He had ridden on that thing drunk off his ass? He was impressed that he hadn't hurt himself or anything else whether it was pushing a button or using his own powers. Though it did make him wonder just what powers Harry possessed.
"I will have Scott take care of it, then. He is one of our instructors and a motorcycle enthusiast."
There was a release of some tension in Harry's posture as he relented, although there was quite a bit left.