Disclaimer: Shamefully, I do not own Harry Potter or Twilight. They belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Stephenie Meyer, and Summit Entertainment.
Warnings: I have no beta but for spellchecker. I have not read the Twilight series beyond the first book; the rest of my information comes from Wikipedia and other fanfictions. I have no outline and no idea where I'm going with this story after this. As such, I really have no business posting this at all. I do so anyway. Also, there's slash. And suicidal themes. I think that covers it.
Author's Note: I don't write fanfiction. And when I do, I don't post it. And there are probably more than enough Harry/Edward stories out there already, but this was eating my brain so I had to do something before it turned to mush. While I feel I know the Harry Potter characters like the back of my hand, like I said before, despite my imaginary love affair with Edward Cullen, Twilight really isn't my domain. Therefore I'd appreciate your (constructive) criticisms on anything I get wrong. I'll decide if I care enough to go back and change things. Also, I really do have no idea where I'm going with this, so let me know if there's anything in particular you'd like to see.
I'd given plenty of thought to how I would die – I'd had reason enough in the years since my eleventh birthday – but I had never imagined it like this. I had planned, prepared for it in the months preceding the final battle and I had strived for it in the years following.
As I stared into the dark eyes of the hunter across from me, I felt the place inside me that had so long ached for this heave a sigh of contentment, pleased it was happening like this. It was a good way to die, my Gryffindor soul insisted, in the place of people I loved. But a small piece of me, new and fragile like the wings of a butterfly, mourned at that. It had been so long since I'd loved anyone and the thought of never seeing them again, never seeing him again hurt in a way I had thought I could no longer feel.
When life offers you a dream after an existence of nightmares, it is not reasonable to grieve when the dream comes to an end. But as the hunter stalked forward to kill me, I smiled and prepared myself for the fight. After all, no one had ever called me a reasonable man.
Though it was difficult to tell under all the bruising and lacerations, he guessed the boy's age to be about 17 or 18. He had been in bad shape when they brought him in, with numerous broken bones, a punctured lung and severe head trauma. Despite his rather significant injuries, the patient was doing well. Much too well in fact. Not once since the patient had arrived had his heartbeat been anything but perfectly steady and the young man's oxygen levels were suspiciously high. Tests showed kidney and liver functions were normal. It was as though despite the visible damage, the patient was perfectly healthy.
It was this in part that currently had Carlisle Cullen staked out in his patient's room after his shift, when he should be at home with his family. There was something about this patient, this boy - the same age as his first son (by appearances, at least), with injuries so reminiscent of his Esme's the night he had found her in the morgue. These similarities peaked his interest, but there was something else as well, a feeling, a pull he couldn't explain.
Carlisle had never had any supernatural abilities outside of the ordinary for a vampire. Not having the ability to read minds or see the future, he had always believed his strongest trait was his compassion. It was what had allowed him to perfect his self-control, permitting him to make his penance in healing others. Perhaps it was this that drew him to the boy, the desire to heal him, save him from whatever it was that tormented him so. Or perhaps it was something else, some previously undiscovered sixth sense that told him this boy was one of his own, this boy was family. And so he sat staring into the darkening night, waiting for the young man to wake up.
The room was empty but for Carlisle and his patient. Statistically of course, the boy should be unconscious for another day at least, so there was no need for anyone to be in his room except for the on shift nurse who came by periodically to change his fluids and check his vitals. His injuries and recovery so far had been anything but standard, however, and Carlisle hardly expected the boy to do anything that might be considered typical.
Lost in thought though he was, Carlisle did not miss the first signs of waking from the injured young man. He swiftly silenced the alarms that would alert the nurses to the patient's consciousness and waited silently for his eyes to open. His black lashes fluttered briefly before lifting fully and Carlisle took advantage of the moment to study the boy before he was noticed. His face held none of the confusion or fear that was expected of a person waking up in the hospital, nor even the flash of bitter failure one often saw in those that came here under similar circumstances. Instead, the boy's piercing green eyes held only dull resignation and a trace of weariness that spoke of too many horrors seen in too few years.
Before he had the chance to alert the patient to his presence, the boy turned his head slightly to bring Carlisle into his field of vision and promptly fixed his eyes on the Doctor's. He made a motion with his hand to indicate removing the tube in his throat, though he continued to breathe in unison with the ventilator and did not struggle as most patients were wont to do.
"Ah, yes. Hello, I'm Dr. Cullen. You seem to be breathing well on your own now, so let's get that tube out, shall we?" Carlisle spoke, quickly shifting back into Doctor mode. He gently unfastened the tape that held the tube in place, careful to touch the boy as little as possible while doing so. "I need you to inhale deeply and then exhale slowly. This will be a bit uncomfortable. Ready?"
After receiving a nod of confirmation he removed the tube and waited for the boy to finish coughing and regain his breath before speaking again. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine." The boy replied in a gravelly voice, one hand gently rubbing his throat.
"Do you know where you are?" He was answered with a nod. "Do you remember what happened before you came here?" Another nod and a throat rub. "Sore?"
"I'm afraid you can't have anything to drink just yet, but I can get you some ice chips to suck on for now." Carlisle said before swiftly disappearing and returning with a cup of ice chips in hand faster than was humanly possible.
"Thanks." The boy said hoarsely, spooning the chips into his mouth. He fixed a scrutinizing gaze on the Doctor for a long minute before rasping, almost too quietly too hear, "Strange place for a vampire to work."
Though his face remained impassive, Carlisle's shock showed in the sudden unnatural stillness of his body. His voice was carefully level when he spoke. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Mr....?"
"Potter." The boy tersely introduced himself. And then, "Wizard." As if that should answer all his questions. And it probably would, Carlisle supposed, if he hadn't had a run in with the wizarding world before.
While his father's attempts to burn evil witches during Carlisle's human days had mostly resulted in the deaths of innocent people, Carlisle had encountered the hidden society a few times during his many years as a vampire. While he generally tried to avoid the dark creature hating civilization as a whole, Carlisle Cullen had always been eager to learn and he hadn't been able to resist the draw of a whole new field of study. As such he was familiar with some basic rules of wizarding magic and Mr. Potter's miraculous recovery simply did not mesh with those rules.
"I wasn't aware that wizards could heal themselves without potions and incantations." Carlisle said mildly. "Or consciousness." He added after a beat.
"Long story." The boy, apparently called Potter replied with the barest hint of a wince, though whether it was the topic or the pain of speaking that caused it, Carlisle was not sure.
"I hope that someday you will share it with me." He hesitated only briefly before continuing. "I must admit Mr. Potter, I'm rather surprised at how… at ease you seem to be with the nature of my being. I was under the impression your kind wasn't very tolerant of mine. Perhaps though, things have changed in the last century."
The boy snorted softly. "Not really. Wizards are still a bigoted bunch for the most part. My friend was-" He stopped speaking abruptly and his eyes clouded over briefly before he continued. "Well, I've never put much stock in what the masses believe anyway. Besides, I've been alone with you for at least twenty minutes, probably longer, and you haven't tried to kill me yet. I've come to the rather logical conclusion that you don't prey on humans. I mean, this isn't exactly where you'd expect to find your typical bloodsucker working. I imagine the malpractice suits would probably get pretty crazy if you were eating patients, yeah?"
The ice chips had apparently soothed the boy's throat enough to speak in complete sentences, but while the topic of conversation certainly held Carlisle's interest, time was of the essence and a change of subject was necessary. "Mr. Potter-" Carlisle began but was immediately interrupted by the boy in question.
Carlisle felt his patient's eyes on him; searching him for- Carlisle wasn't sure. A certain reaction, or lack of one he guessed. Whatever he found (or didn't find) in Carlisle's face, he seemed satisfied.
"Very well. Harry. The night nurse will be by in about twenty minutes. You're doing very well. Much too well actually; I'm afraid I am not quite sure how to explain how it is that you are awake and breathing on your own so soon. It is bound to cause suspicions."
"I'd slow it down if I could, but I'm afraid it's rather out of my control." Harry explained.
"Don't worry, I'll be out of here in a few hours, so there won't be anyone here for them to question." He said in a very flat voice.
"Out? Are you planning on transferring to a Wizard hospital or do you have someone to care for you in your home?" Carlisle asked, a furrow marring his otherwise perfect brow.
"No hospital, no someone, no home." The furrow deepened.
"I assure you Doctor, I've been taking care of myself for a long time." He sounded more tired than he had a few minutes ago.
"You misunderstand, Harry. I'm sure that you are usually quite fine on your own." He placated the boy, ignoring the obvious fact that people who were doing fine didn't tend to come to the hospital under Harry's circumstances. "But while you are healing extraordinarily fast, at this time you are simply not physically capable of taking care of yourself. Based on your current rate of healing I would roughly guess you'll be able to move around on your own in 5 to 7 days. Until then you'll need someone to bring you your food, help you to the bathroom and so on."
"That's ridiculous. I just need to get up and I'll be fine. Look." Carlisle pressed a gentle hand over the surgical incision on his patient's abdomen to keep him from popping a stitch as the stubborn teen attempted to sit up, but did not otherwise hinder his endeavor. He had a feeling the only way the headstrong boy would get the picture was to experience it for himself. It was a long few seconds before he gave up his efforts with a pained grunt, having not been able to prop himself up even halfway.
Waiting until Harry returned his focus to Carlisle he spoke mildly, "Perhaps it would be prudent for you to stay with my family for the time being."
"What? Are you mad? You're just going to bring some strange kid home to your family and expect them to welcome me? No way. Just…just help me get out of the hospital and drop me at a hotel or something. I'll be fine."
"Miraculous healing powers or not, Mr. Potter, I simply wouldn't feel right about leaving an injured, teenaged boy alone with no way of moving around for a week or more." The soft footsteps of the night nurse echoing down the hallway reached Carlisle's ears first. "I think it would be wise to continue this conversation after we have left."
Harry huffed his annoyance at the lack of agreement from the Doctor. "Alright, fine. Let's get out of here."
Carlisle bent over and carefully eased his hands under Harry to lift him up. The boy's detached façade broke for the first time since he had awoken. "You're not going to carry me?"
Dr. Cullen's answering smile looked suspiciously smirk-like at Harry's scandalized tone. "It's the fastest way to move you. Much more difficult to sneak a gurney out, you know." Harry was lifted off the bed and before he could protest again they were slipping into the shadows and swiftly exiting the hospital without notice.
Author's Note 2: Hmm, I'm not sure it's worth continuing really, but I probably will at least until it's out of my head. What do you think? I know this chapter was all about the Harry/Carlisle interaction but I assure you the story will be Harry/Edward. While I enjoy Harry's romantic endeavors as much as the next person, I really like to explore him in family situations so this story will feature that prominently. The Cullens as a family especially interest me so I'd like to see how Harry fits in there. I really should read more of the books because there wasn't nearly enough of the Cullens in the first one and I need to get a better feel for their characters, especially Esme. Any advice you can offer in that department will be greatly appreciated. Also, my medical knowledge comes solely from fanfiction and episodes of House, so you'll have to excuse any mistakes made here.