In Mac's Bar Everything Goes

Summary: WARNING: Spoilers to HP series and Supernatural up to Season 05 ep 10 "Abandon All Hope". After saving a bartender, Dean's life change. He has a lot to learn about hockey, bars and a guy know as Mac.

Category: Romance

Pairing: Harry/Dean

Author's Notes: Tried to do something different don't know if it will work. Tell what you think.

Dean asked for another whisky in Mac's Canadiens Bar in Boston. Life sucked, shit happened and well… He was alone in the road again. His father was long dead. His brother, after the Apocalipse-that-wasn't (as hunters had taken to call it, lately) settled down with this cute girl they saved from being Pest's meat suit, in Minnesota. At first, he would just stop now and then for a few days with her. After that, he started living with her and hunting now and then. Now, Jane was pregnant with his nephew and Sam was there full time. Of course, Dean stopped to visit, also, now and then but… The road is a lonely place. Cas, just after the war, went up to Heaven to clean his file with God, who was back. He knew he should be happy for his friend. He knew he should be overjoyed that God, had decided to promote the angel instead of smiting him. And he knew he should be celebrating that they actually succeeded in saving the world this time, just for a change. Dean let out a sign. He stopped at Sam's and Bobby's often but he felt like he belonged nowhere. It was his own fault he was like this. He knew nothing but hunting and fighting, he was raised into it since he was four. And now he was alone… And his family was all scattered around the country. 'Nice doing, Dean' he told himself.

"Tough day, mate?" He heard the barman say in a thick British accent.

"Kinda." He answered. He wasn't the type to go all chick flick on bartenders while drunk but he was so lonely it wouldn't hurt talking to the guy.

"What's her name?"Asked the bartender.

"My problem is not a girl. More the lack of one." Dean said laughing a bit.

"You do not look the kind who would have trouble getting any girl."

"The problem is maintenance. Getting is easy the keeping is the hard part." Dean answered remembering Cassie for a moment. She still detained the title of longest hook up in his life. Not that he would ever go back to her. She had hurt him too much for that.

"Hadn't you had too much for one night?" The bartender asked politely, he wanted to close the bar, it had been a long night and Dean was just another drunk, like so many others before, keeping him from his bed. He felt sorry for the poor bastards, but if he stayed he would lose the last bus. He never got the kicks of driving, let alone on the wrong side of the road so he was stuck with bus' schedules.

"Don't think so. 'm not even slurring yet." Dean answered matter-of-factly, not even noticing the other man's real intention of kicking him out. He was so drunk he didn't even get mad with the guy for thinking he couldn't hold his liqueur.

"You shouldn't pass out on my bar, mate. We are closing and you do not look the kind who makes a fool out of himself. Want me to call someone to drive you or maybe a cab?"

"Your accent is nice." Dean said, with a drunken smile and the bartender knew he was a lost cause.

"A cab it is, then. And my accent is a gift from mother England." He said as a way of small talk making his way around the bar and coming next to Dean to help him from his seat and in direction of the door. "Come on, mate."

The poor barman had both hands full of Dean Winchester when he heard someone else enter through the door.

"We are closed."

"Petrificus Totalus!" Screamed the newcomer holding up a stick. The bartender dropped to the floor hard as a statue. Dean fell with the man, losing the little balance he had, and looked at the newcomer at the door who walked up to them. He was thin and haggard. Dean's eyes widened in surprise, he was wearing a dress!

"What the hell?" He muttered, his mind confused. He tried to stand, but the thin man kicked his guts smiling as if it was Christmas Morning.

"Out of my way, you filthy muggle!" The man said and focused on the bartender who seemed to be out cold on the floor, he hadn't moved a muscle since falling.

"Naughty little Potter… I'm going to peel the meat from your bones."

Continued the man in the dress with a maniac smile on his face. Dean knew that kind smile, oh, so well. A shiver run up his skin as he remembered those words on Alastair's voice. That guy wasn't bluffing. The man raised his stick and said.

" I want to hear you scream, Potter. Finite Incantatem." And then he said: "Crucio."

The man on the floor, Potter, left his not moving state to writhing and howling in pain. Rabastan Lestrange was so happy he could sing! He finally would have his revenge from the Boy-who-Bloody-Lived-to Ruin-his-life! He finally would avenge his honor, his family, his brother and his lover, Bellatrix. That was when something caught his eye. The muggle drunk he had just kicked was now standing, and not looking so drunk anymore.

"You know something?" The muggle drunk asked. "I really hate witches." And to Rabastan's utter shock, the man took out a silver gun with a mother pearl handle and shot him right in the middle of his eyes, the muggle's arm steady as only someone who knew what he was doing had.

The whole room was silent but for the heavy breath of the man on the floor who looked stunned. The man looked at his attacker and then at Dean.

"Weren't you drunk?" Asked the bartender, bewildered.

"As I told ya, not so much… And even if I were…" And in that moment the bartender clearly saw that he was, indeed, drunk. "The secret when you're seeing 3 targets instead of one is just aiming for the one in the middle." He smiled at the Potter guy trying to look impressive. The guy just kept looking at him bewildered that a person like Dean even existed.

"I'll keep that in mind… Next time, I get drunk and need to shoot something."

Dean extended a hand to help the guy up and noticed the guy's hand was trembling slightly.

"Your name is Potter, then?" He asked as a way of small talk.

"Yeah, but people here know me as Mac. You know, because of the bar. Mac is from MC, from Montreal Canadiens, but MC sounds too much like rapper stuff… And my American patrons couldn't tell a British guy from an Irish to save their butts so I ended up as Mac, the Irish owner of the Canadian pub." He pointed at the bar and the whole place looked like a shrine of the Montreal Canadiens.

"A Hockey Fan, then"

"The closest thing to flying." The bartender smiled whole heartedly, and Dean thought the Brit was quite charming. He wasn't one to think that about dudes but it was so rare for Dean to like someone, anyone from the start that he had to admit the guy must be something special. And at the thought Dean felt a stab of pain in his heart. Cas had worked so hard to be his friend and Sam… Was the only one who had his loyalty from the start. He made an effort not to let his pain show in his face and ruin the moment.

"You can call me Harry or what you like, though. After all, you just saved my life."

"It's cool, Harry. I'm Dean."

"And are you a squib, Dean?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow and paused. "Since you know about wizards and used a gun to finish him off?"

Dean thought for a moment. He didn't know what made him answer truthfully but he did.

"Nah, just a hunter." Dean saw Harry going stiff for the moment. "You are one of them, aren't you?" He asked Harry.

Harry looked at the floor, then back at Dean. "I'm a Wizard, yes. But not a Death Eater."

"So that is what those fuckers look like!" Dean commented offhandedly.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asked earnestly with a sad tone to his voice but no fear. Dean admired that in the guy.

"Not in the mood right now. And after all I hunt evil, not just anything that crosses my way. You are just a bar owner. Nothing wrong with that." Harry nodded and smiled in relief. "Just remember that if you step outta line, I'll have to change my mind, 'k?" Dean asked and once again the green eyed Brit nodded.

"Ok… But now we are back to the point where I need to close the bar and get the bus." He looked at his watch. "Oh Bugger. I'll never make it."

"I could give you a lift." Dean suggested.

"You are in no condition to drive a car." Harry pointed out as if the mere notion of Dean driving was insane.

"But I can bullseye a he-witch right in the forehead?" Dean sounded offended and Harry decided he had quite a point.

To be Continued…