A/N: So here's the one-shot I promised to LadySandoval. I really hope you enjoy it. It was really fun (but very difficult) to write and sort of took it's own take on the situation… Anyway, it's probably the longest chapter of any story I have ever done and took me several weeks of reading, writing, and editing before I fell in love with it. This takes place several years after the Pirate King died, making Mihawk 24 on their date and Harry approximately 27.

Prompt: A slash story with Harry and Mihawk, not hardcore, a lot of kissing and a date. I was given a lot of freedom to write this and the rest is the result.

This is self-beta'd, please excuse any mistakes.

Disclaimer: Trust me, if I owned HP or OP I would be bragging…don't glare! I'm sure most of you would too… but I'm not bragging, therefore, I own nothing of importance.

His feet beat hard against the crooked cobblestone as he sprinted down the road, dodging around the occasional muddy puddle. The street was bathed in the shadowy light of the dusk, the sun itself barely visible over the scraggly almost leafless trees. He glanced towards the sky and flinched slightly at the sight of dark grey clouds rolling in faster than what should have been possible, but that's the Grand Line for you. The dilapidated buildings flashed by in blurry shades of grey and white, the signs of their disrepair barely visible in the limited light.

A person – an older man by the look of him – dressed in a basic tunic and trousers, limped through the door of his own hut by the time he ran by, not wanting to be outside when the storm hit. Honestly, it was just his luck that he would end up on one of the most fair-tempered islands during a monsoon.

Harry sighed. He should have expected it really, with his luck. It was his choice to meet up on this island after all.

Quickly Harry turned sharply to the left and bolted around the last hut in the small grouping. They were fisherman huts, if he remembered correctly, and the people who resided in them made their living catching all sorts of large and colorful fish along the coastline. Another hundred feet of earth passed under his feet in moments, taking him into the forest.

Harry nimbly avoided the gnarled roots that littered the mossy floor while he easily ducked around the thin low-hanging branches of a willow tree. After all, years of navigating the Grand Line required grace, speed, and stealth, all of which he had in spades. His heart began to thump faster as he imagined the only other person who completely matched him in grace and speed (Stealth was Harry's forte and he outclassed everyone in that department, much thanks to his invisibility cloak).

A flush rose to his cheeks, although if anyone asked he'd deny it vehemently. It was from the running, yah, that's what it was. Harry just shook his head, reaching up to push away a particularly dangly branch, before thinking back to the man. His man. Harry smiled; extremely glad he could think of that amazing man as his.

They had been a couple for a few years, despite their differences. They were actually very similar if one thought about it. Both were strong, had black hair, intense eyes, preferred being alone, and never in all of their years had ever thought they could be in a successful relationship.

A short laugh left his lips as he recalled how they had first met. The first time he'd ever ran into the love of his life. A man famously known as Hawk Eye Mihawk.


It had been five years since Harry had been unintentionally launched into a dimension filled with pirates and marines. Harry could not for the life of him remember how he had gotten there, but he remembered when.

It had been directly after he had deflected the killing curse back at Voldemort. He'd stood like a statue, his victory for the light not quite registering in his brain yet. It was too unbelievable that after so many years of fear and fighting that it had all ended. Just like that. He remembered that his wand arm had dropped limply to his side and he had taken a slow, shuddering breath while his heart raced a mile a minute in his chest. Finally, a smile formed on his lips as he began to realize that he was free to live as he wanted to, no longer the prophecy child and no longer obligated to fight in a war he was to young for.

It had happened to quickly to register. One moment Harry was standing there, panting heavily with a half-crazed smile gracing his pale lips as he stood amidst the rubble that once made up Hogwarts, and the next he had been enveloped by a searing pain. All of his nerve endings felt like they were on fire and they kept growing hotter and hotter until finally Harry felt like he was being devoured by the sun. Vaguely the calls of his comrades could be heard screaming out his name, but Harry was in far too much pain to care.

He'd blacked out, obviously. The pain was too much for him to handle so his body shut down and he collapsed where he stood. When he had awoken though, he was nowhere near where he had been. Instead he found himself in an average sized house that was made out of wood, lying on a futon on the floor. A kind young girl who looked to be in her teens and went by the name of Makino with dark green hair and a bright yellow kerchief on her head had found him drifting in the ocean and saved his life.

Harry had stayed with her, for a short while, but he was eager to travel and see the world. In under a year she had helped him learn the geography of the new dimension he found himself in and taught him how to read (For some reason he couldn't fathom he could understand the language when spoken, but couldn't read it).

Now Harry found himself walking into a famous little bar called "Shakky's Rip-Off Bar" in Grove 13 of Sabaody Archipelago. He had been here a few times in the past and decided that he'd liked the alcohol (it also helped that he had befriended Shakky. He'd seen just how cruel she could be to unwitting customers).

The loud ruckus that he heard as he entered made him pause. Shakky was normally very abstinent that the noise level be kept down to keep from bothering other customers and starting a fight that she would inevitably have to get in the middle of. So it was very strange that she hadn't already quieted this group.

A quick glance around the place showed a particularly large group of pirates gulping down alcohol like it was the bleeding apocalypse. Harry's eyes almost popped out of his skull when he saw the pile of empty barrels knocked over against the back wall, several others quickly being tossed over to join them. He kept looking around until his eyes finally met a red-haired figure with a straw hat sitting at the bar and being served by Shakky, who didn't look angry in the least at all of the disarray.

That explained it. Harry knew who the man was instantly. The pirate captain Red-Hair Shanks. Rumor had it he was on his way to becoming a pirate emperor and that his crew was impossible to defeat in battle, but just one look at the captain and Harry could tell that he wasn't a cruel person, just powerful.

Seconds later Harry was sitting next to the captain and ordering a cup of sake. Minutes later Harry began talking with the captain of the infamous Red Hair Crew. Within a few hours Harry found himself laughing hysterically at something Shanks had said that wasn't actually funny and falling backwards onto the floor, clutching his stomach like it was his lifeline, right at the feet of a tall, dark, and intimidating figure.

Instantly Harry was back on his feet and apologizing to the person for his rudeness – manners permanently imprinted into his personality after years of living with the Dursley's – and head bowed in a polite gesture. The tall imposing figure with the most golden, bestial eyes Harry had ever seen, however, just sneered and looked over to Shanks who was watching the entire confrontation with amusement.

"Fight me."

Those two words were drawled out silkily and caused Harry to involuntarily shudder, in fear or apprehension, he didn't know. Shanks spotted his small movement and smirked.

"Sure thing, Mihawk." He answered, "But we'll need to take it outside unless we want to meet an early end at the lovely hands of this young miss." Shanks added, motioning with his head to Shakky who was rolling her eyes.

"Win or lose you still have to pay, Red Hair-san."

"Of course!"

"I think I better go then." Harry said, not wanting to be accidently caught up in a fight (with his luck it was entirely possible that he'd get dragged into a fight between big-shots that he wasn't even a part of).

Harry completely missed the evil smile that crossed Shank's face as he turned to leave. Suddenly the red-haired captain's leg shot out in front of Harry, effectively causing him to trip and fall forwards…right into the arms of a surprised Mihawk. Smooch! Thump!

The entire bar was silent as they stared open-mouthed at the incredible sight before them. Harry was completely stunned. Beyond stunned really. His wide green eyes stared down into the equally wide golden pools of the terrifyingly powerful man beneath him. He couldn't move, at all. His lips…his lips were pressed down firmly on the other man's and he was far too afraid to remove them.

The stunned quiet of the moment was broken up by an insane laugh. Shanks was clinging to his sides as he rocked back and forth on his barstool, drunken cackle bursting out of his grinning mouth and eyes filling with tears.

Apparently Mihawk snapped out of his own frozen state because at the sound of his rival's laugh he roughly shoved Harry off of him and sent him tumbling to the dirty floor. Mihawk stood up quickly and brushed off his clothes before turning narrowed eyes towards Shanks, "I'll challenge you again later." With those words he snapped around on his heel and marched out, trench coat billowing behind him.

Harry didn't see him again for another two years.

It was two years later Harry found himself on an island stricken with disease. His magic had made him immune to most illnesses, only ones caused by magic holding any affect over his health, so he wasn't worried.

According to a few of the island's natives that Harry had talked to, some stranger had introduced a strange new plant that was supposed to heal minor cuts and bruises. Unfortunately, the natives had planted fields of it to grow for their shaman-like doctors to use only to find out that while the plants leaves were indeed helpful, the tiny pink flowers constantly released bacterial spores into the air and spread an incurable disease to all who breathed it.

Most of the small, secluded village was infected by the bacteria, leaving only one or two that weren't were wearing masks over their faces and stayed primarily indoors to avoid further exposure to the spores.

The villagers Harry talked to then proceeded to tell him that they'd burned away all of their fields of the strange foreign plant, but the lack of a wind due to it being the summer left most of the deadly spores coating every available surface on the outside. Knowing that they didn't have a known cure and people were collapsing from exhaustion and dying everyday, Harry's hero complex kicked in and he promised to help.

At first they'd refused, telling him to escape while he could and told him that several other foreign visitors had already been infected. In response, Harry only chuckled and said he had an amazing immune system and was skilled in the art of healing. The last part was a bit of a fib of course, his only knowledge in healing stemmed from his days camping in the wild with Hermione and Ron during their seventh year. He'd only had time to learn the basics, episkey to heal small cuts, a nifty charm to stop the spread of infection, and a slightly more obscure spell that replaced the blood inside the body with fresh, new, clean blood (That one Hermione had taught him when Ron accidently ate a blood-drinking mushroom and it began to infect his blood cells).

The doubtful natives with no options left allowed him, a foreign stranger, into one of their two small healing huts where over a dozen people lay moaning on the floor. Harry knelt down and grabbed the wrist of the nearest patient, a woman with very curly blonde hair, and began examining her closely. Her tanned skin was twitching spastically over the thin muscles of her arms and she choked in shuttering breaths constantly.

"Is there something in your lungs that's making it hard for you to breathe?" Harry asked professionally. The woman looked at him with clouded eyes before shaking her head in the negative. Harry frowned. He then began to trace the veins of the wrist he held captive, noticing the way they bulged and were colored a dark – almost black – purple color.

"It seems like the problem comes from the blood." Harry spoke to no one in particular, "It's not separating into oxygenated and deoxygenated blood and refusing to allow you to breathe."

Harry was relieved to figure this out so easily. It wouldn't be difficult to fix, it would be just like Ron and the mushrooms. Quickly Harry spread out his fingers, palm faced down over the woman before whispering out the spell that would temporarily stop the spread of infection while he worked. Immediately after applying the charm he pressed his wand to the center of the woman's chest, between where the lungs would be, and said the blood-exchanging spell.

It only took a few minutes for the woman to stop shaking, her breathing evening out and her skin stopping its incessant twitching. She blinked her now-clear blue eyes slowly before bolting up into a sitting position.

"I…I'm better now? I'm better now!" Immediately she climbed to her feet and hugged Harry tightly, "Thank you so much!" She smiled widely before a worrying look crossed her face, "Please, help my child. He's been sick far longer than me."

Harry just closed his eyes and smiled.

Barely an hour later everyone was walking around, masks securely over their faces, laughing and talking like nothing was wrong. Harry wiped away the sweat that had accumulated over his brow as he stepped away from the last patient, a foreigner who had capsized his small fishing boat on the island over six months ago and was well liked amongst the indigenous people.

"Is there anyone left for me to heal?" Harry asked to the man that had originally told him about the bacteria's origins.

The man shifted nervously on his feet, eyes shifting from side to side as if they were afraid to meet the green ones of his people's savior. "W-well." He took in a shaky breath, "We do have this one man, he's a foreigner you see, and…well…he grew sick after coming to this island. He only came a few days ago you see, but after the man who brought this upon us…we've grown overly cautious towards strangers, and this one is very scary."

Harry frowned, "What about me? Or the other foreigners I treated? Why aren't you wary of us."

The man let out a choked noise, "Well the others, we've known since before the…the epidemic, and many of them have been trapped here for years. We don't build boats you see; the trees are to light to support anything. And, well, I'm sorry to say it, but you hardly look intimidating at all."

Harry's annoyance over being considered non-lethal was displayed clearly over his face, "Just take me to the last man and I'll make sure he stays out of your hair. I have a rowboat and I'm willing to take him with me if you want."

The native's face lit up with glee, "Gladly!" he exclaimed before walking off towards the tiny (and Harry means very tiny) prison. There were only three cells, all no bigger than a horse stall. The ground was covered with woven grass mats that made a slight crinkling noise as they were stepped on.

Upon entering the prison, Harry immediately marched towards the cell on the far end of the structure, where the sick man was laying collapsed on the floor. His eyes roamed quickly over the figure, trying to take in just how sick the man was when they suddenly widened in recognition. Harry stiffened. "Can you leave me to heal him in peace?" He muttered out to the native who was startled at the sudden stoniness that appeared on their miracle doctor's face.

"O-of course. Right away."

As soon as the indigenous man was no longer in sight Harry knelt down by Mihawk's head and brushed long, dark strands of hair out of his face. Mihawk merely groaned in pain. Sweat was plastered all over his forehead and his veins were that purplish black color. The bacteria had obviously spread much faster in the poor conditions of the dirty and cold cell.

As Harry gazed at the swordsman a childish spark of hate flickered in his chest and he almost decided not to heal the man and to let him suffer. After all, he'd rudely shoved him all those years ago. In fact, he was about to just stand up and leave when Mihawk's hand suddenly shot up and yanked him back down by the wrist.

"Where am I?" Harry almost couldn't believe that the weak-sounding soft voice came from the same Mihawk he'd met two years ago. "Who're you?"

Harry frowned, he knew he wasn't the most memorable person, but surely the swordsman would recognize the man he accidently kissed. Upon closer inspection, he realized that Mihawk was delirious, beyond delirious in fact. He probably couldn't see much more then colored blobs and definitely couldn't comprehend a lot of dialogue.

There was no way he could leave him sick now. He was slightly sickened by how willing he was to just leave someone to die. The Grand Line changed people like that, and Harry was going to make sure to watch himself in the future.

"You don't recognize me?"


"Oh. You don't recognize the man you stole his first kiss from!" Harry's famous temper was rising up and he couldn't help but yell out the thing that had bothered him most about their first encounter. A blush rose to his face and completely painted his slightly tanned cheeks a fiery red color that rivaled the Weasely's.

"I'm sorry?" Mihawk sounded horribly confused.

"You stole my first kiss and it wasn't even a good one."


"Now just stay still so I can –" Mihawk had suddenly grabbed the front of Harry's shirt in a firm grip and yanked him down. Harry's lips met with Mihawk's, both firmly pressing against each other. For a second Harry was worried he would die. That Mihawk would suddenly snap out of his delusions and kill him. After a few seconds of nothing happening though, Mihawk pressed his warm lips even harder against Harry's own, waiting for the smaller man to reply. Harry found his eyes slowly fluttering closed as he enjoyed the solitary moment, the warmth radiating from the pair of lips against his own nearly suffocating. He then bent down to further the kiss, mind in a haze and suddenly unable to stop himself. They stayed together for only a few more seconds before breaking away, leaving Mihawk coughing from lack of oxygen and Harry just slightly breathless.

"I-I should probably h-heal you n-now." He stumbled over his words, more than just a little ruffled from his most recent experience. He could really grow to like kissing, if it was always like that.

Harry once again held out his hand and performed the charm and spell combo that would fix the world's strongest swordsman and secretly prayed that he wouldn't be cut in half for taking advantage of him while he was sick.

As it turned out, when Mihawk recovered he only widened his eyes slightly, eyed Harry who was trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible from his seated position in the corner of the cell, and got up and walked away.

He was just about to exit the door when the green-eyed man spoke up, "I have a boat." He said, "If you need one to get off the island."

Mihawk was shocked. Normally people would never talk to him on purpose due to the fact that he could (and probably would) slice apart anyone who dared to, minus Shanks of course.

"I have no need of your vessel, my own boat is fine…thank you." The last part sounded like Mihawk had to forcefully drag it out before saying it. With those words he left Harry's life once again.

Over the course of the next three years, Harry accidently ran into Mihawk a lot. Usually they managed to get caught up in strange situations that required one to rescue the other.

Every time they managed to meet Shanks he would shamelessly tease them over their awkward love phase, which resulted in him nearly getting pummeled to death by Mihawk and his hair turned a swamp brown by Harry (which he adamantly refused to turn back for a week).

Eventually, they decided to start dating. Both of them were awkward when it came to dating, neither of them having done it properly before. Neither one of them liked to have a date in a public place either, both hating the feeling of others staring.

As it turned out, they were usually separated for several weeks at a time, each doing their own thing, before sending a message to the other to meet up on some random island that they'd found for a date. In fact it was because of their strange dating habits that Harry ended up where he was now.


Harry was shaken out of his reminiscing when a gigantic drop of water plopped onto his nose. He looked up, "Oh no." The heavens must have suddenly decided that water was the newest craze in weather for they just opened up and dumped everything out. Harry was drenched in under a second. He never stood a chance.

"AH! COLD!" Harry put on an extra burst of speed, knowing that his destination wasn't that far away. In fact it was…ah, there! The image of a large looming cave up ahead caused his face to break out into an incredible smile.

In the cave's entrance, he could clearly see the familiar silhouette of Hawk Eye. "Mihawk!" Harry yelled as he leapt the last five feet to the man's open arms. "I'm so glad to see you. It's been nearly a month."

Mihawk swung him around and just smiled softly down at Harry in response, an expression that could be seen by no one else (If they wanted to keep on living anyway). "That's because you took so long to pick a spot."

Harry just smiled in response, only slightly embarrassed.

"And you picked it during its storm season." That earned Mihawk a light smack on the head, courtesy of a now fully embarrassed boyfriend.

"I didn't know okay! If you knew it was going to be like this then why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you knew."

Harry stayed in Mihawk's arms for several more moments, holding him tightly around the waist in an amorous hug. The top of his head was rested under Mihawk's chin and bobbed slightly with the even breathing of his chest.

Harry suddenly looked up and met eyes with Mihawk. The intensity and longing between them after being separated for so long caused them to slowly begin to gravitate towards each other, Harry rising to his tiptoes and Hawk Eye bending down a little to accommodate the difference in height.

There lips molded together with a slow, yet fiery passion and Harry began to move his hands to Mihawk's broad shoulders. The swordsman grabbed a fistful of Harry's dark hair and used his grip to press their lips closer together. Harry couldn't stop the slight moan from escaping, which caused a light blush to pepper his cheeks, invisible in the darkness of the cave.

As soon as it had started it ended. Their kisses never seemed to last for very long, but that just made them even better each time they happened.

"So why did you tell me to meet up with you here?" Mihawk asked, voice slightly husky.

"Hmmm? Oh yah, the fireflies!" Harry stepped away from the swordsman and began navigating his way towards the back of the cave. "They live down here."

As Harry led the way, Mihawk obediently followed half a step behind. The cave's tunnels grew narrower as the minutes passed by before suddenly opening up into a huge cavern.

Everything was so bright. In the ceiling was embedded a strange stone that hummed and emitted light that greatly resembled that of the moon, which hid behind the storm clouds outside. The light bounced and reflected off of thousands of jewels that were poking out of the cave wall.

Harry brought them over to a blanket that had been set out a while ago where they lay down on their backs, cuddled side by side. After nearly ten minutes of blissful silence and steady breathing the shiny moon-like rock began humming at a higher pitch. The noise wasn't intolerable, but it wasn't pretty either and Mihawk found himself frowning in distaste. Harry, seeing the expression, just nudged his side and told him to be patient.

Sure enough, as the noise got louder, tiny little fireflies began coming out of the jewels in the wall, which were in fact not actually jewels, but nests that only looked similar to them. The fireflies began their rhythmic dance above the couple's heads, in time with the humming, which took on a more classical vibe. Slowly they weaved between each other and twirled so beautifully throughout the air a romantic novelist would be unable to put it in proper words.

"That's…gorgeous Harry." Mihawk said, golden eyes reflecting the golden lights of the dancing bugs.

Harry just smirked slyly, "I knew you'd like it. You never did like the complex junk I usually take you to. Was it worth having to wait in the storm?"

Hawk Eye Mihawk, one of the baddest, fiercest men in all of the Grand Line turned over to his side, head propped up by his elbow and looked Harry in the eye. "I love it." And with those words came a light kiss pressed to the center of Harry's rain dampened forehead.


A/N: I am so nervous! That was my first one-shot AND romance piece. It was eleven pages…ELEVEN! That is by far a new record for me, just, wow. Thank you for allowing me to write you a one-shot LadySandoval! And to the rest of you, please feel free to rate and review this and the rest of my stories!