Genre: Lotrps AU/Harry Potter future!fic crossover
Summary: Dom becomes a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and finds himself strangely attracted to Elijah, one of the Gryffindor seventh-years.
Warnings: Like I said, AU and crossover. Also it's HP so, obviously, supernatural stuff.
Disclaimer: The wonderful HP world is created by JK Rowling who is not me, and the LOTR boys do not belong to me, both facts which I obviously regret but are nevertheless true. Sniff.
Feedback: Makes me prostrate myself at your feet and grovel pathetically.
Author's notes: Once again beta'd by the incomparable pinkegogirl, without whom my characters would undergo sudden and involuntary sex changes.
While Elijah and Dom were flying back to Hogwarts through the icy cold, the same wind (that made them both eternally thankful for Síobhan’s scarves) was also howling around the houses and shops of Hogsmeade. The few Hogwarts students who hadn’t already sought shelter in a shop or tearoom pulled their cloaks around them and hurried on to their destinations.
The only place in town that wasn’t packed with school uniforms was the Hog’s Head, where the ancient bartender was only in the company of two regulars, a ratty, wicked-looking little warlock and a large muscled wizard with horrible burn scars covering half of his face, who were playing cards in a dark corner.
They were all very surprised, therefore, when the door opened and three cloaked people hurried inside, bringing a gust of cold in before the door closed behind them.
Despite himself, the bartender looked curiously at them while pretending to dry a dirty glass. Two of the figures had now thrown back their hoods, revealing two young women, and for a moment it was almost as if time had gone back and the Black sisters were standing there.
The girls were about the same height and both astonishingly beautiful. One of them, who seemed to be the oldest, had a long mane of shining, almost-black hair, and stunningly blue eyes in her smooth, pale face. She moved with a natural, almost feline grace, and her luscious lips were pursed in disapproval as her haughty look went through the shabby pub.
The other girl was as fair as her companion was dark, with emerald-green eyes in a high-cheekboned face, that would have been more attractive if it had looked less arrogant and calculating. She did not pay any attention to the interior of the pub, but grabbed her friend’s arm and headed straight for the bar.
“Arduin,” she said to the bartender without so much as a greeting, “we need to use one of your backrooms.”
It was her way of speaking, that bored, almost lazy manner, that finally made Arduin realise who she was. He bowed deeply. “Miss Lucretia, such a pleasure to see you again. Forgive me, in my old age… I had not recognised you.”
Before Lucretia could answer him, the other girl spoke up. Her voice would have been pleasant, though maybe slightly whimsical, if there had not been a constant sneering undertone in it. She had an American accent, and spoke softly, but with a subtle hint of malice, sweet like poisoned honey.
“You must really be going senile, Arduin, if you’ve already forgotten who I am.”
He squinted at her for a second, then brightened in triumph. “Miss Livid, of course I remember you, how could I not? How is your father doing?”
“Flourishing, I’m sure,” said Livid dismissively. “Did you hear Lucy or not, man?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said Arduin hurriedly, reaching into a drawer under the bar and handing a small key to Lucretia. Long experience had taught him not to ask any questions about their business, and he kept himself to that. “Room number three. Usually I charge extra for using them, but in the case of such…”
He trailed off – the girls had already walked towards the stairs without another word. Their companion followed them without speaking or removing his hood and cloak, but that, too, was something Arduin had learned not to ask about over the years. He could only look with wary eyes as the small company disappeared up the stairs.
Backroom number three was dark, dingy and rather small, but still able to accommodate the group that was soon gathered there. People trickled in in twos and threes, until finally thirteen young witches and wizards, mostly teenagers, were crammed together in the small space.
The girl named Livid was still the oldest of the company, and was sitting near the head of the greasy table. The cloaked person who had come in with her and Lucretia was sitting opposite her, and Lucretia herself sat between them, at the head of the table, like a queen presiding at a banquet. Close by sat three large boys, all about eighteen years old and rather stupid-looking. One was dark-haired and had very long arms and short legs – he looked a bit like a chimpansee, only less intelligent. His neighbour was nearly square in his build, particularly brutal-looking, and had small, piggy eyes. The boy opposite them was tall and dark-haired and looked like he really could have done with some braces in his earlier youth.
The other boys and girls were younger, and were all wearing Hogwarts uniforms. There was a remarkably handsome boy of about sixteen, a girl of about the same age whose long, straggly hair, pale hollow face and huge, staring eyes made her greatly resemble a dead person, two somewhat younger girls, one blond and one dark, but both wearing the same bored, haughty sneer on their faces, and last to come in was Mortianna Malfoy, bringing with her the two youngest of the group: a stunningly beautiful dark-skinned girl of maybe thirteen years old, and Walter Nott, the Seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
“What did you bring them for?” sneered Livid when the three came in and locked the door behind them. “We are doing serious business here, Mortianna, not running a fucking nursery.”
“Mephistola here is Nero’s sister,” replied Mortianna coolly, gesturing to the girl beside her and then to the handsome dark boy at the table, “and tells us that she has a talent that might come in handy, especially in your case, Liv. So shut up about things you don’t even understand.”
Liv looked as though she wanted to jump up off her seat and retaliate, but Lucretia stopped her with a hand on her arm before turning to her younger sister. “You didn’t say anything about this boy, though, Morti, why did you bring him?”
Mortianna shrugged. “He really wanted to come. Besides, I thought he would round up our number.” Her eyes shone. “Thirteen. The number of misfortune.”
“I want to help!” Nott broke in without being spoken to. “I hate him, too! Gryffindor defeated us at Quidditch, and…”
“Oh please!” Liv laughed. “Listen to this preschooler, now. This isn’t about such stupid and trivial things as Quidditch, little boy. We’re talking real world, grownups-stuff.”
“And what is that to you, Livid? Why are you here?” asked a new voice. The cloaked stranger had finally cast off his hood, and a young man of twenty was now looking hard at Liv. He had dark blond hair and a pale face with high cheekbones, that might be called handsome by people who didn’t look good enough to see the hard lines around his mouth, the grim set of his strong jaw, and the merciless black pits of his eyes.
Liv looked at him, unimpressed. “Same reason as you, Josh. Revenge.”
“What have you to avenge yourself for?” asked the handsome boy called Nero. “You weren’t at school with Wood, you don’t even know him!”
“I’m not talking about that pathetic little rat Wood, Zabini,” replied Liv. “He is all yours. I am here because we might aid each other. You all want your revenge, and I might get mine into the bargain.”
“Revenge on whom?” asked Josh, the hard lines Azkaban had drawn on his young face deepened by the look of skepticism and dislike he was fixing on Liv.
The young woman turned around to face him with a smile that was as terrifying as it was joyless.
“I have come to slay the Changeling, Dominic Monaghan.”
“Dom, wait up!”
The two young wizards had come in sight of the Hogwarts castle and were starting their descent. It had started raining, and Dom was speeding up, most likely in order to reach the gates before they would be drenched, but Elijah felt reluctant to land, to end the wonderful time he’d spent with Dom without having to look over his shoulder all the time.
Dom landed smoothly on the lawn, and Elijah followed. Standing on the wet grass by the high gates, their two days in Ireland already seemed like a distant dream. Dom shouldered his broom and they walked to the door together.
They were not the only ones choosing to arrive at this moment. Many of the Headmaster’s guests for tonight’s Christmas dinner were Apparating just outside the grounds, some also flying, Portkeying, or else just walking in. Passing through the doors before them was the largest elderly couple Elijah had ever seen; the man no bigger than the woman. He looked most like an old bear, with his greying, tangled mass of hair and his long beard and his rather hairy brown suit. The woman was dressed far more elegantly in a black velvet dress, and opals were shimmering faintly around her neck and fingers. She giggled girlishly as the man held open the door for her with a bow and a look of deepest adoration, and she blew him a kiss as she passed through.
Seeing Dom and Elijah approach, wet as a pair of bedraggled cats, he continued holding open the door genially. They hurried inside, though they needn’t have bothered, because behind them came more people, and the giant let them in, too: a round-faced, shy-looking wizard of about forty, accompanied by his ginger-haired wife and a young girl who was a spitting image of him. Elijah did know who they were: the parents and sister of his class-and-teammates Alice and Frances.
“Neville!” roared the giant jovially. “Ye’re invited too, o’course, I forgot! How’re things? Book still goin’ strong, eh?”
“Everything’s great, Hagrid,” replied Mr. Longbottom, releasing his wife’s hand to shake the other man’s. “You know Susan, of course, and Amelia? She’s starting her first term at Hogwarts next year.”
The two ambled down the Entrance Hall, continuing their talk, and Elijah turned back to Dom, who was busy drying himself with the tip of his wand.
“We should go change,” he said as he finished. “It won’t do to show up for dinner in our Muggle attire.”
“I think you look good,” said Elijah. Dom grinned and shook his head.
“Still, I think I ought to… Frannie!”
He had spotted the next family coming in over Elijah’s shoulder, and was now hurrying towards them to embrace the female half of the couple: a pretty lady in silvery blue dress robes decorated with real flowers. Her husband was a short, sturdy man with flyaway black hair and beard, wearing large glasses that made him appear a bit like a figure from a comic. The young man recognised him immediately: the Minister for Magic.
“Elijah! Come over here!” Dom was beckoning him over to where he was standing, beaming at the Minister’s wife, who beamed back just as heartily. “I’d like you to meet Fran, my Guide. Frannie, this is Elijah Wood, a promising student of mine. He’s made it clear to me that he has an interest in Guidance.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Elijah, painfully aware of his appearance as he held out his hand to the Minister’s wife. “I’ve heard so much about you, ma’am. Your book is really inspiring.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling. Her eyes went back and forth between Dom’s and Elijah’s faces, and the younger man felt immediately that here was another woman who had no difficulty whatsoever in interpreting the look of tenderness that Dom was trying, but not quite succeeding, to hide. Her eyes certainly narrowed in suspicion as she looked back at Elijah, who tried very hard not to blush. “It’s lovely to meet you, Elijah.”
“I wanted to speak to you anyway,” continued Dom, happily oblivious to the alarming shrewdness of his Guide. “I was hoping to take Elijah to the Ministry one of these days, and show him the Guidance Headquarters.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged, Dom,” said Fran, smiling affectionately at him. “Peter, you remember Dominic Monaghan?”
“Do I ever?” laughed the Minister. “Living proof that the Guidance office was a stroke of brilliance, as I’ve always said. I’ve been told you’re doing a great job here, Dom. And recruiting new Guides too, now, I hear.”
“No, sir,” said Dom, grinning as he shook the Minister’s hand. “That idea was wholly Elijah’s. I merely led him to it.”
“A man with a mission, then,” said the Minister, shaking Elijah’s hand vigorously. “Take after your father, eh lad? You know, I’ve seen him play the year Pullover won the Cup.”
“Oh, ah… have you?” stammered Elijah, who never quite knew what to answer to remarks like this, but thankfully he was saved by Fran, who clicked her tongue impatiently.
“We are not going to stand in the hallway all night talking about Quidditch,” she said. “And besides, these boys need to make themselves presentable. We’ll see you at the feast. It was nice meeting you, Elijah. Dom, for goodness’ sake, comb your hair, will you?”
And with that she was gone, followed meekly by her husband. Dom watched them go, an affectionate look on his face, then turned back to Elijah. “Come on, let’s do as the nice lady tells us.”
They climbed up the marble staircase together. On the landing Dom turned left, but Elijah stood still, looking mournfully at his retreating back. The older man turned, frowning. “What is it, Lij?”
“I… I have to turn right here,” said Elijah softly.
“Oh. Okay. See you in a few, then?”
“I guess.” The younger man twisted the hem of his jacket, not looking at him.
Dom folded his arms. “Just spit it out, whatever it is, Wood. What’s bothering you, then?”
Elijah looked at his toes. “Nothing. Just something… well, silly, really.”
“It’s just,” he said, looking up. “I’ve had such a wonderful time with you in Ireland, and this is where it ends. Right here. You go that way, and I go another, and next time I see you… you’ll be my teacher again. You know?”
Dom smiled gently. “Yeah, I know.”
For a few minutes they just stood there, looking at each other, and though no words were spoken it was enough for both of them. Finally Dom put his hand on the doorknob of the corridor that led towards his tower.
“I’ll see you downstairs, then?”
Elijah nodded, swallowing painfully. “Yeah. See you downstairs.”