Title: Metempsychosis

Characters: Harry Potter, Dean, Sam(mentioned)

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A,

Spoilers: None really. You should probably know up to the end of Season 3, though.

Word Count: 1,054

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or Supernatural

Summary: Being in a relationship with a Winchester is never easy, especially when they won't tell the truth. Harry just can't deal with the pain of being lied to by someone he cares about...

Authors's Note: This is just a short little one-shot. While I am contemplating a sequel to my other one-shot(or perhaps a continuation), this one will not be continued. It's just a little what-if scenario. Inspiration for this fanfiction came from the Kelly Clarkson song, "Where is Your Heart?" The title, "Metempsychosis", means transmigration of souls. It seemed fitting.

There's a silence as the two men stare at each other, neither blinking. Unwavering anger flashes between the two, a tense air circulating around them. They were both clenching their fists to their sides—their lips pinched together in frustration. Neither move for quite awhile; they don't even blink.

Eventually, the shorter of the two makes the tiniest movement—his upper lip twitches as he holds back a nasty retort to whatever awful thing the other man said to him this time—and the other man breaks the drawn out stare, turns abruptly on his heels, and storms out the door. The fragile piece of wood groans a little at the sudden intense movement, but the remaining man doesn't say a word.

For the longest time, he continues to stand there, his face completely blank. He has no expression—no words. He can only think about the look in Dean's eyes as he said good-bye—this time for good. And, somehow, he can't take these good-byes anymore. They are starting to dig under his skin, entwining with his soul.

His eyes eventually wander to the messy room. It's his house, and usually he's a very tidy person, but whenever Dean shows up, the house tended to be trashed within minutes.

It wasn't like Harry ever minded.

Lately, it's been different. Dean's keeping secrets now—Harry can see it in everything he does. There's a new coldness about him; Dean's been trying to push him away. Sam sees it too. Every once in awhile, Harry would catch the eye of the younger Winchester, but the Sasquatch is avoiding him more than ever. Ever since Sam was kidnapped by the Demon, everything has been different.

Something happened that day, but Harry can''t figure out what could have happened to make Dean stop caring about him.

It's been like his awhile now and Harry hates it with a passion. He's been hating it.

It has to stop.

With determination in every possible place on his face, Harry pulls out the wand he forbade himself from ever using again and immediately casts the spell to pack everything in the house in his trunk. He leaves Dean's stuff lay. He was going to come back eventually, but Harry is going to be gone by then.

(~) (~) (~) (~) (~)

When Dean Winchester walks through his doorway, haggard and worn out, Harry's on his case in under a second. The ex-wizard pulls Dean close when his legs threaten to give out. It's then that Harry notices something different, but he can't put his finger on what it could possibly be for the life of him. "Dean?" he finally asks softly, helping him into the livingroom. "Did you find Sam?"

Harry wanted to be there for Dean—to travel and help in the search. He is no hunter, though, and with his self-proclaimed ban on magic, he's completely useless in every way. He's never learned physical defense—he would only be killed if he tried to go out there with Dean and hunt.

"Yeah, I found Sam." Harry momentarily freezes at the strange bitterness he hears behind the words...the darkness in Dean's eyes.

It almost scares him.

"Was it the Demon?" He asks quietly, his eyes scanning the hunter's body for any cuts or bruises. He finds none and frowns, confused. Usually, Dean doesn't look this weary unless he's injured...badly.

"Mm-hmm." Dean nods blearily, his answer more of a groan than anything else.

Harry sighs loudly, annoyed. "You have to give me something, Dean. Whatever you're beating yourself up about now isn't worth it."

Dean stops moving a few moments, clearly taking time to register the words. "I think we should stop."

Harry blinks, unsure what to say. "Stop what?"

"This...whatever we have." The hunter scowls, his voice raising a few ocaves. Harry winces at the tone. "It's...It's gotta stop. We've gotta stop."

"Stop seeing each other? Is that what you mean?" Harry's eyes flash, first in pain, then in anger. When Dean doesn't answer, Harry straightens his posture and pushes away. "What the hell is wrong with you, Dean?"

The hunter's expression twists. "Nothing, Harry. It has to be over."

Harry hates those words.

Dean is gone for three months. Harry hasn't gotten over the arrogant man yet when he shows up at Harry's dorrstep at three in the morning, broken and bleeding. For a few awful seconds, Harry debates throwing the door closed in Dean's face, but old memories wouldn't let him do it.

He groans and lets Winchester in.

(~) (~) (~) (~) (~)

Harry's biggest mistake had been letting Dean back through that door. Even worse, Harry didn't just allow Dean into his home, but his heart.

He should have expected to get his heart torn to shreds again. It's seems to be the Winchester way. Or, perhaps it's just a pattern in his own life. Maybe Harry's never meant to truly love someone.

The young wizard takes one last look back at the house he's been inhabiting for well over two years. The floors and walls are completely bare other than a few scattered items that belong to one Winchester in particular. The room is lonely. Fear flutters deep in his chest at the thought of leaving everything behind—for good. The room...the memories...Dean. It would all be gone, distant and frayed in the back of his mind for hoowever long he manages to stay alive.

He has to leave. A new life somewhere else awaits him—a place devode of supernatural elements. A city or little ole' town where he doesn't have to fear being tortured every two seconds because of the company keeps and the friends he makes. Somewhere...safe.

Merlin, he feels like such a coward.

A couple hours later, he holds his cellphone in his hand, staring at the little piece of technology without a scrape of expression on his face. He's gotten over Dean, or so he'd managed to rick himself into thinking. Two words...two words were all it takes for Harry entire world to come crashing down. Two words from the younger Winchester in the dead of the night, filled with raw emotion. Two words Harry finds himself hating more than the thought of Dean leaving him again.

"Dean's dead."

And it tears a brand new hole in his heart.

I must say, this was a spur of the moment, little drabble kid of thing that ended up longer than a normal drabble. But it was in my head and I wrote it I'd just share it with you guys since I got some pretty postive feedback on my other oneshot. Any thoughts? Good? Bad?