Okay, so I've decided to start another fic, despite the fact that I take forever to update. Hopefully I'll learn something from those time-management classes and whatnot, but I seriously doubt it.

So. I don't own X-Men, nor do I own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be seriously praying for scholarships to help me through school, now, would I? I also wouldn't have killed Sirius, or Scott. So there.

As for the timelines. This story takes place through Harry's seventh year. Just skip the sixth, it's not important. So, after OotP, but this is not HBP compliant. As for X-Men? It's after the third movie, but I've decided that Xavier, Jean and Scott all survived. Don't like me messing with that? Too bad. Artistic license and all that jazz. And I might decide to bring in Gambit, because Remy's just special like that.

So, without any further ado, on with the story!


Scott Summers was lying face down on the couch, his face—ruby quartz glasses and all—pressed into a pillow. Logan would have thought he was asleep, if not for the fact that Scott never fell asleep on the couch, or the fact that he was entirely too tense, and more importantly the fact that Logan's enhanced hearing had picked up a stifled whimper. Now, Logan did not like Scott and Scott did not like Logan; they couldn't seem to agree about anything. But even Logan had to admit that the man didn't deserve to be in pain.

"You okay, One-Eye?" he asked gruffly, coming up behind the couch and staring down at the prone figure. Scott probably would have graced him with an answer if the blinding pain in his head had allowed for coherent thought. As it was he could only moan softly. Logan blinked in sudden realization. "Your powers causing this?"

Again, there was no answer, but Scott did shift slightly. Logan sighed, his hidden respect for the man growing slightly as he realized that these debilitating headaches had to happen fairly often. And Scott had never said a word about them, just continuing on and bearing it.

Reaching down, he gently began kneading the muscles along Scott's neck. Scott jerked in surprise, biting off a pained groan. "Relax," Logan grunted. "You're too tense. That can't be helping."

It took a while for Scott to relax completely into the couch cushions. Logan continued with the gentle massage until his fellow mutant dropped off into pain-exhausted slumber. And then he pulled back, pulling the curtains closed and grabbing a throw blanket off the couch to drape over the sleeping man, completely aware of Jean Grey-Summers watching him care for her husband.

He passed her on the way out of the room and she joined him on the walk down the hall. "And here I thought the two of you don't get along."

"We don't."

Jean grinned, brushing red hair from her face. "Really," she drawled, glancing back to where they had left her husband.

"Just because I don't like him, don't mean I wanna see him in pain," Logan grunted.

"Thank you," Jean murmured. Anything else she was going to say was cut off by excited chatter and the pounding of oncoming feet. Logan held out his arms, creating a barricade that multiple students ran into, effectively coming to a stop. "No TV tonight, kids," Logan said gruffly. "One-Eye's sleepin' in there."

"Mr. Summers?" Rogue asked in surprise. "Why?"

"He ain't feelin' well," Logan answered. "Now get lost." Despite the words, the tone was affectionate and Jean hid a smile behind her hand. Really, for all he displayed a dangerous feral, Logan was quite the teddy bear. Albeit, a highly territorial and protective teddy bear.

It was a few hours later that Professor Xavier would ask them to pick up a child unlike any other at the Institute.