Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter or Eyeshield 21 or any of the affiliated characters. What I do own is a kick ass Ash Ketchum hat and a collection of gold medal winning maple syrup. Neither of which will appear in this story.

Warnings: OC's, some OOC, Het, Slash, AU, fluff, language

A/N: I was talking to Sky's Eternity one night when we were discussing the possibility of this crossover. I came up with an idea and we both described where we would take it, and well both were different, so I said "Let's write them!" So Sky's Eternity and I are starting with the same basic prompt and working from there. I think it will be fun to see where we each take it and compare.

Running Back

The First Tackle

Vernon Dursley was a business man through and through. He had a very ordered work life that he enjoyed through his sturdy black briefcase, a nice normal wife who stayed at home, and a son he was very proud of. Today he was wearing his basic grey flannel suit, a white collared shirt, and because today felt a little bit better than others, he wore a mustard yellow tie to mix things up. Oh yes, he had chortled to himself for a good minute when he decided to wear this particular colour. His yellow tie would probably be the talk of the office today. The office staff might even think he has a playful side. Vernon frowned. Maybe he should change his tie? It wouldn't be good if his employee's thought that he was too playful and didn't work as hard as they should. No, no. He had already decided on the colour and it was a very befitting colour for the day. He would just need to be a little extra firm with them today if they tried to get away with anything.

Vernon sat down for breakfast, and immediately picked up the paper that was on his right hand side of his plate. The boy had been taught to always place his morning paper on his dominate side; it was only proper after all. He unfolded it, and held it up so he could read the local news, and with a brief glance to ensure nothing funny or wrong was happening in his area, Vernon flipped to the business section. He checked the stocks and read the articles that were related in some way to Grunnings. While he read he sipped his tea and ate his food with one hand.

Everything seemed to be in order and nothing showed it could result in a decline in Grunnings sales. As a director, Vernon was very proud of his job and always strived to show that he deserved his position, in case any little upstart tried to steal it from him. It was also why he never tried to steal funds from the company, and was very thorough with all the ledgers. Nothing –and he meant nothing- would interfere with the position he had gained. That is why he checked the business section every day, had his secretary place anything important on his desk with a yellow post-it note, and he was meticulous about the time he took off for vacation and sick days.

When Petunia stood to trot around the table and put more bacon on his plate, Vernon flipped to the Sports section, reading the headline. "Chelsea is still hanging in there I see. That's good; it means old man Grunnings will be in a good mood." Vernon announced to his family, his mustache quirking up on one side to show his pleasure. With this, Vernon could engage the company owner into a pleasant bit of small talk and hopefully worm his way closer to a pay raise. Wearing a yellow tie had been a good choice today.

Vernon snorted when he turned the page to see an article in the international sports section about an American football team. This school, Notre Dame, are apparently very proud of their star player, an Eyeshield 21.

"Look at this complete rubbish -bragging about a boy who can run fast in an abominable sport. Why the Americans needed to name their sport football is beyond me. Can you believe they renamed footy to soccer of there? No proper respect!" Vernon huffed and gruffed.

"Truly terrible." Petunia piped up. Her first contribution to conversation all morning besides 'Would you like more toast?' and 'Boy hurry up!'.

"It looks like they even took some candid shots of the boys to make it appear like they're average kids despite their success, and trying to make it sound like a team effort when it's one kid running. Even the boy can run fast, maybe you could be Eyeshield 21." Vernon joked. He laughed at his own joke, like the boy could ever have anything to do with Eyeshield 21 or anyone successful.

Vernon ruffled his paper, straightening it out a bit more, and looked over the pictures. The boys were all tall and fit, obviously horsing around after practice. There were captions, telling the names of some key players, not like Vernon particularly cared to know. But the one picture, bigger than the rest, but smaller than the main portrait of a boy in a helmet and eye shield, caught his attention. The boys were laughing, throwing sweat bands at each other, but one boy was in the back and looking off to the side, his hair was familiar, his face structure was a mix of English and Asian… and if Vernon was a man that gambled, he would bet the boy's eyes were either green or hazel.

"Pet, this boy…" Vernon beckoned his wife over. Petunia was quick to canter over, looking over his large shoulder to see what he was referring to. "Does he…"

Petunia dramatically gasped and held a single skinny pale hand up to her mouth. "Vernon… it's him." She whispered harshly, he eyes darting over to the boy. Harry, for his part, ignored them as he gathering the breakfast dishes.

Vernon waited until the boy was in the kitchen before speaking, his whispers louder than he thought and carrying over to the boy. "Maybe we should have kept him instead of listening to that barmy old man. At least he seems normal and he has talents in sports. Why that crazed old man insisted we keep the younger brother is beyond me. He's nothing but trouble."

"Oh Vernon, you read the letter. I'm surprised the boy hasn't met him at the blasted school but maybe this is why…Let's not speak of this anymore." Petunia suggested, her eyes looking at the windows in case one of the neighbours had camped outside them, listening in for any juicy bits of gossip.

Vernon listened to his wife, she was the more experienced of the pair in these abnormal matters. He folded the paper and placed it down on his left side, now finished with it. He cleaned his plate of any remaining food and stood. Planting a chaste kiss on his wife's cheek, a firm pat on his son's shoulder, Vernon turned and left the dining area. He smoothed down his yellow tie and gave it a fond little pat, and buttoned the top button of his jacket. Ready to leave, Vernon picked up his sturdy black briefcase, and left the house, thinking about Mr. Grunnings and Chelsea.

He left not knowing that the day felt different because he planted an idea, a hope, and a dream into the mind of the boy he ignored.

I know what you may be thinking... 'Another new story Monkeys? Really?'

I'm sorry! I promise that this will be the last new one until I finish a WIP. Promise. On my pure Canadian Heart.

So, tell me what you think?