Damian: Father, Where Is Alfred? I Need His Counsel On An Issue. Bruce: He Stepped Out For Some Errands,

DCxDP fanfic idea: Damian's (not) real friend

Based on the results of this poll post.

Bruce knew kids made imaginary friends as part of their development. He had done plenty of research on the topic long before taking in Dick. Over the years, as his children grew in numbers, so did his research on proper developmental milestones.

Typically, children create imaginary friends from the ages of six to nine. But that did not mean they had to give them up even if they were in their teens.

So yes, he knew kids could have imaginary friends of any age, but seeing Damian develop one was slightly shocking. It might have been due to his upbringing that Damian hadn't had one or had chosen not to speak of his buddy until he knew he was safe.

Knowing his son felt secure enough in his household to do so filled his heart with joy. Bruce kept an eye on Damian since he brought up his new friend, Daniel. He was glad his son had finally made a friend in his school that it took a few days to notice Damian never brought up Daniel unless someone else did.

When Tim asked him about his friend- claiming to have spotted Damian sitting by himself at lunchtime after his youngest had told everyone he had lunched with Daniel- the boy had waved his concerns away.

That's when Bruce learned Daniel was not a little kid at Damian's school but rather an imaginary friend.

More specifically, he learned that Daniel could not be photographed or recorded. He simply would not appear on cameras or in auto recordings. Damian didn't seem to find any of that odd, nor take into account that, as Batman and Co., they had the means to pick up some trace of something being there.

After all, they had machines that could indicate a Speedster messing with the timeline! But no, Damian insisted that Daniel simply could not be recorded.

Apparently, Damian checked.

Now Bruce knew that an imaginary friend only became a concern when the child seemed frightened by it; it encourages harmful or destructive behavior; it rapidly changes the child's typical behavior, and the child blames it for all harmful or dangerous behavior or if it disrupts the child's ability to socially interact with others.

Daniel didn't seem to frighten Damian, nor did it encourage bad behavior in his son. But it certainly got in the way of Damian making real friends, and his son's behavior changed, even if he grumbled good naturally about it.

Daniel pestered Damian to join him in exploring Gotham to find, and Bruce quotes, "Secret spots for getting down in funky town."

Damian had videos of himself break dancing in abandoned subways, ballroom dancing with the air in an abandoned firehouse, and the oddest of all, disco in an underpass where he seemed to be making faces at the area around his left shoulder. He never posted them, claiming that Daniel just wanted them for themselves.

Bruce was mildly alarmed. He brought it up with the rest of his children, who all reported similar tales of Daniel.

Tim had noticed Damian recording songs in his room- his son had inherited the Wayne vocal cords. They were all blessed singers- claiming that Daniel had written and composed the music but had wanted Damian to record it since he couldn't. They would be using it in one of their videos.

Jason brought up the fact he had seen Damian make a collage covered in nothing but pictures of himself and the Gotham landscapes. Damian had spent nearly seven hours cutting, gluing, and organizing the postal board that he hung up.

Dick's report, however, was the most alarming. He had seen a photo booth strip Damian carried at all times. It supposedly held Daniel, but all he saw was an empty booth. This, coupled with the heart-shaped frame of some underpass, of an empty wall that Damian lovingly placed on his desk, could only mean one thing.

"Damian is infatuated with his imaginary friend." He said, voice heavy in concern as his children gave each other wary looks. "Damian is fully convinced Daniel is real and, likely, is treating him as a boyfriend rather than a best friend."

"Want me to talk to him? I can get him to agree to introduce me to his....boyfriend." Steph volunteers while stepping forward. "There were some cases at the homeless shelter Duke and I volunteer at where I needed to convince some kids to introduce me to their imaginary friends."

"That could work. Besides Dick, you have the closest relationship with Damian," Duke agrees. He is staring at the videos of Damian dipping someone that wasn't there, jaw tense. It likely reminded him of his parents. "It is better to send you in just because Damian may not be ready to talk to Dick about crushes."

"I'll set up some closer monitoring around Damian," Babs offers, nodding at Tim, who was already hacking into the boy's school cameras. She had sent him a private message to get started on that the second she heard Dick's report. She was busy hacking into the city's system of Damian's usual routes when going into the city. "If someone caused him to develop Daniel, I want to be sure we stop it."

"And I'll be sure to make them pay," Jason hissed, punching his fist as Cass twirled a blade at his side, nodding in agreement. She hasn't said much, but everyone could see the anger and concern for the youngest in her eyes. Apparently, she had been able to tell through Damian's body language he had developed a crush on Daniel but had not picked up on the fact he wasn't real.

To Damian, he was, so when she read his body language, she thought he was, too.

Alfred speaks up, his voice even despite the slight tremble in his folded hands on the conference table. "We also have to consider the possibility of instituting Damian. Something like this does not dub well for Master Damian's ability in the field. Civilian or Cape."

His words send a cold chill down everyone's backs. It was like the air itself was holding its breath as they turned to look at Bruce, waiting for his call. Bruce had his face in his hands, shoulders shaking in silent tears, but he nodded. "Dami needs help"

Dick stumbled back into his chair, looking like his father had just punched him in the gut. Tim's fingers paused over the keys, eyes hazy and lips tight. Cass' knife stabbed the table, grip knuckle white while Jason swore up a storm, slamming a fist down.

Steph, Duke, and Babs remained in their spot, but their faces had angry frowns. Bitter that they could do no more as they glared into the air around them. The three had always been more silent rage than the rest, the kind that forced the air around them when the rest of the Bats burned in it.

"We have to-" Bruce's words get cut off by the Cave communication bell. The camera on the Batcomputer turns on, displaying Damian in a rather fetching streetwear outfit.

"Hello, Father." He said calmly, aiming the camera so they could see he was inside a stale bathroom. "I am calling to ask permission to invite Daniel to dinner at the Manor. We were going to get some pizza after our latest dancing video, but the one Daniel adores was closed for construction, and it's getting rather late for other places. Daniel lives in the bad side of town, so his sister would rather he not be out too late."

Oh gods, Daniel had a sister now? One that limited Damian's movements?

"Of course, son," Bruce heard himself say. A heavy lump developed in his throat as a broad, pleased smile spread across his child's face. Bruce is no stranger to heartbreak, but he felt it cracking as Damian reminded him that Daniel was a civilian, so they needed to ensure that vigilante things were out of sight. "That sounds fine, Dami. We will be waiting for you both."

"We?"

"Your siblings want to meet Daniel." Bruce clarifies, looking around the table of his children, who look back at Damian with pity. "Don't you?"

Dick presses a hand against his mouth, nodding his head. "We sure do. Heard so much about Daniel, it would be a shame not to."

"Very well." Damian yields after some thought. "We shall be home in an hour. Alfred, could you make some meat lasagna? That's Daniel's favorite food."

"It's making him ask for meat." Jason curses under her breath "on top of everything else?"

Thankfully, it's too soft for Damian to hear, so Alfred speaks up. "Of course,e Master Damian."

"Replace the béchamel sauce with layers of cheese, please." Damian requests, smile turning a bit soft and gooey. "Daniel prefers it that way."

"Right away, sir."

The call ends, and the cave erupts into noise. Bruce springs to his feet, shouting out orders. They will think of what to do now that Damian has introduced them to Daniel.

Multiple JusticeLeague-approved therapists are called, Black Carnary is on speed dial for any help they may need, and the kids brush up on their mental illness assistant packages. They don't plan on confronting Damian tonight about it, but they will carefully prob to see what exactly Daniel and his sister make Damian do.

____________________________________________________________

Alfred's face spams an hour late as he watches the front gate security cameras. Master Damian arrives in an Uber, holding the door open and offering his hand to the air as if attempting to help someone get out of the vehicle. The boy waves away the driver, then keeps his hand wrapped around nothing as he strides to the Manor in sure steps.

Alfred doesn't have the auto on, but he can tell by the movement of Master Damian's lips that he is speaking to it.

Alfred moves to the front door, fixing his vest to gather courage before opening the door, a calm Welcome home, Master Damian on his lips.

Only to choke on his spite at the sight of another young boy the same age as Master Damian standing right where Daniel should be. He even has his fingers interlocked with Master Damian.

"Alfred, this is Daniel Fenton. Daniel, this is my family butler, Alfred Pennyworth."

"You're real," Alfred breathes, staring wide-eyed at the boy who offers him a wave. It's such a whiplash from the emotional turmoil of this afternoon that he forgets himself and his manners as he gawks at the child.

"Um, I sure am?" Daniel, for his part, looks a little uneasy, which prompts Master Damian to step in front of him, shielding him with his body. His green eyes are blazing with slight protective rage.

"I did not see you in the camera...." He hears himself say as if that was justification for his reaction.

Master Domain's shoulders relax. "Yes, Daniel does not appear on any form of record. It happens. Come, Daniel, I'll show you my room while dinner is made."

"Cool. Can we practice some new moves, too? I really want to get the choreography for our new song down."

"Of course."

Alfred steps back, allowing the children to walk inside, climb up the stairs, and vanish from sight. He fumbles for his phone, knowing he has to report this before Master Bruce and the other children make fools of themselves.

Goodness, he didn't even start on the meat lasagna. He didn't think he was actually going to feed someone.

It occurred to me how incredibly chaotic and delightful Cheese Melt would be when put in the same room as Danny and Jack, so yeah. More silly comic doodles.

Jack, Vlad, Danny, and Danielle go camping! Vlad only agreed to this because he's frustrated and jealous of how much Dani seems to like Jack despite his best attempts to brainwash her into hating him, and he's sure that two nights in the woods will prove to her that Jack is an idiot and not nearly as good of a parent as Vlad is. Vlad knows he can't simply forbid Dani from ever talking to Jack again, because she's already such a free spirit who barely listens to him. So it's obviously the best plan to ensure that Dani comes to the correct conclusion all on her own. Unfortunately for Vlad, he yet again has utterly played himself (or rather, has let Dani play him like the master of psychological manipulation she is).

Meanwhile, Danny is just here to hang out with his dad and Dani, and point and laugh at Vlad's rising blood pressure while ALSO ensuring Vlad doesn't end up legitimately killing his dad. And Jack is of course utterly oblivious to the intensely complicated dynamic of his three half ghost companions. He's just happy to go hiking (they immediately get lost) go canoeing (they immediately capsize) and share a tent with his best friend (who immediately politely declines)

Dani and Danny then encounter a small army of blob ghosts in the woods and Dani convinces Danny to pretend to get captured with her, in the hopes that it will force Vlad to work with Jack to rescue them (and maybe fix some of the tension). Comedy and vaguely heartwarming moments ensues.

Silly Idea: Through some portal/dimensional mishap Danny and a good majority of his Rogue Gallery get scattered across the DCU. Luckily they’re mostly in the same temporal range so he doesn’t have to really ask Clockwork for help beyond making sure he was the first to arrive. They don’t all appear at once and either appear in pairs with whoever shares a “Soulbond” with them or just by themselves to cause havoc for as long as they can before Danny captures them again. Danny is trying very hard to protect this new delicate dimension along with his wayward rogues for both sides own good. His rogues have their own power classes that he made up just for his Ghostpedia.

Damage: Box Ghost, Lunch Lady, Amorpho Danger: Cujo, Johnny 13, Shadow, Youngblood, Skulker Emergency: Ember, Kitty,  Sidney Poindexter, Penelope Spectra, Bertrand Disaster: Desiree, Ghost Writer, Walker, Bullet Cataclysmic: Undergrowth, Vortex, Nocturn Catastrophic: Dan Phantom(Contained), Pariah Dark(Contained)

Danny has to remain disguised as a normal human and live a normal life out while he waits for his rogues to appear. Then he can do his magical girl transformation and go out and fight them until they’re weak enough for capture. He even designed new comfortable containers for them to replace the thermos so they wouldn’t all be stuck with each other and cramped inside one small container until he could get them all back to their own dimension. They look like very fancy futuristic cards and act as very comfortable sleeping capsules for them. Much better than the thermos, like taking a nice rejuvenating nap really. The cards will have a nice fancy caricature of them to show who is inside too! So he doesn’t accidently forget who’s in what card. He’s out there catching his rogues like Card Captor Sakura. XD

Maybe Danny just appears in Gotham one day because the ambient ectoplasm is just what he needs to stay healthy and Lady Gotham thinks he’s adorable; vigilantes are her favorite after all. She’s never had a magical boy vigilante, how fun~

Meanwhile Damian and Jason are losing their fucking minds because this kid just appeared one day and no one is questioning it. They all act like he’s always been there but they are damn sure he only appeared like 3 days ago at most. Why are they the only ones aware? Perhaps Damian’s super long term exposure to Lazarus pits over half his life but just living practically on top of them. Maybe because Jason was dead for so long before he got brought back and he was brought back wrong. Maybe they go straight to paranoid stalking but despite the weird memory manipulation he doesn’t actually do anything wrong. Maybe they watch him for so long they get kind of frustrated about it because this bastard is just so nice all the time and despite the weirdness around him he’s so clearly non-malicious that he cried over a box of kittens abandoned in an alley and they felt more awkward about seeing that then any family dinner they’d ever been to.

Maybe nobody notices for so long that these two get attached by the time the JL Dark even notices that there’s anything wrong about him. But by then it’s way too late, that’s their magical boy fuck you very much.

dont tease ur half-dead boyfriend, jeez

Had the silliest idea while making breakfast.. what if Damian’s Favorite Brother is Tim, but for the Dumbest Reason...pancakes

My idea is that Tim is Damian’s favorite brother, but not for the reasons one might expect. It’s not because of Tim’s skill, his smarts, or his ability to stay three steps ahead in every fight. Nope. Damian’s real reason for favoring Tim over Dick, Jason, or even Bruce is much simpler.

It’s because Tim makes the best pancakes. Like, legendary pancakes.

Not even kidding.

One morning, Tim casually whips up a batch of pancakes in the kitchen—y’know, because Alfred’s off running errands and the rest of the family doesn’t know the first thing about breakfast beyond opening a box of cereal, and Tim's been feeding himself since he was six. So Tim steps up to the stove, and bam—fluffy, golden stacks of heaven.

Damian, who never really cared for breakfast, takes one bite of Tim’s pancakes and is sold. From that moment on, he’s obsessed.

“Drake, you will make me those pancakes again tomorrow."

And Tim just blinks, completely confused, but shrugs it off like, “Uh, sure?”

The next morning, Damian’s right there in the kitchen, bright and early, waiting for his daily dose of pancake perfection. By the third day, he’s even dragging a chair next to Tim, watching like a hawk as Tim cooks, making sure he’s using the right ingredients.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Batfamily is just like, “Really? This is the thing that bonds them?”

Tim, being Tim, just rolls with it. He doesn’t ask questions. If Damian wants pancakes, Damian gets pancakes. He’s just trying to survive his new role as “Pancake Master.”

But Damian? Oh, he’s serious about this.

Damian tells anyone who will listen that Tim is the only one who knows how to make breakfast properly. He’ll give the other brothers side-eye anytime they dare to suggest they could cook for him. Even Alfred raises an eyebrow, but Damian’s already set: Tim’s pancakes or nothing.

What’s even funnier is that when Damian gets pissed off at anyone, he refuses to eat their cooking. But Tim? Untouchable. The one person who can screw up as many times as he wants and still be in Damian’s good graces—because those pancakes? Irreplaceable.

So, while the Batfamily argues over strategy, patrols, or who gets to drive the Batmobile, Damian's priorities are clear:

"You’re all amateurs. Drake’s the only one who makes pancakes worthy of the Wayne name.”

And now, Tim’s been promoted to Damian’s favorite brother for the silliest reason imaginable. But hey, if the key to Damian’s heart is pancakes, Tim’s got that title locked down.

“Hey. Uh, Johnny?” Danny said awkwardly, “What does it mean when one of the older ghosts calls you their favored and why does it freak people out?”

Johnny 13 gave the halfa a bewildered look, “Dude. Didn’t you listen to Death? At all?”

“Death?” Danny scrunched his face, “What do you mean? I don’t…”

“Wait.” Johnny straightened, “You’ve talked with Death, right? She explained-?”

Danny shook his head, confused, “Was I supposed to?”

“When you first died, she’s supposed to appear. She gives a whole spiel and then transfers a bunch of information.” Johnny frowned, “She did it for Plasmius, so it’s not a halfa thing.”

“Oh.” Danny looked down, “What if… What if someone died and came back a few times very quickly? Would that… Would that cause any problems?”

Johnny stilled, horrified, “Ok. Look, do you want to talk about your death? Because I’m not asking if you don’t, but...”

“I guess…” Danny said, “So you know that my parents made the portal, right?”

“Yeah.” Johnny said.

“They’d been trying to do it for a long time. Plasmius actually worked with them for a while back when they were in college. It’s why all of their tech is similar in design.” Danny explained, “They built the thing, plugged it in, turned it on… and nothing.”

“But it works now.” Johnny frowned.

“Yeah. It does.” Danny nodded, “But remember my friends? Sam and Tucker?”

“The edgy emo and the computer geek?”

“As Sam’s friend, I am obligated to inform you that she is goth not emo… but yes, those two.” Danny smiled sadly, “My mom and dad were upset. They left the house and Jazz was working her shift at a library. The whole house was empty and I was… you know. A normal teenager home alone.”

Johnny snorted at that, “Ah yes. A completely normal teenager

“Yeah, yeah. The point is, the first thing I did after being left home alone was call my friends over.” Danny rolled his eyes, “Told them what happened and… It was Sam who suggested we go down there first — she’s always been into ghost and occult stuff — and look around. Tucker was down, because it was tech even if we didn’t think most of the tech would work. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to mess around with it. Jazz had given me some lectures on lab safety — my parents don’t usually follow it themselves — and I had a bad feeling so I put on the Hazmat suit.”

“That’s not a superhero costume you came up with?” Johnny asked, eyes widening.

“No, um. It’s a hazmat suit. The only way I changed my form was the insignia and even then that was Sam’s idea.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but um….” Danny paused, “We wound up standing outside the portal. It wasn’t working or anything, but there was a big spooky metal hole in the wall. You know, the kind of thing you’d expect in sci-fi movies. Sam dared me to go in and I was nervous. That bad feeling just intensified, but again — fourteen. I wasn’t being smart about it. So… I went into it. I kept going and it was dark. I was turning back when I tripped and I flailed. Accidentally hit some button that was on the side and it turned on.”

Johnny took a sharp breath.

“And um. Did you know that the portal takes a lot of electricity to start up?” Danny joked weakly, “Took three blocks worth. Um, lots of ectoplasm, too — from both the zone and the artificial stuff my parents use.” He shuffled, “So um, turns out both those things can revive and kill people. So I just kind of — died and revived a lot until it turned on and basically spat me out into the lab.

“That’s - Kid…”

“So um, maybe since I was dying and reviving so much death didn’t have a chance to fill me in? Honestly, would have like the heads up.” Danny said sheepishly, “I didn’t even understand what had happened until ghosts started coming through the portal.”

“Seriously?”

Danny shrugged, “I mean, I kind of suspected. I was falling through floors. It was hard to ignore, but I didn’t know - My parents are good inventors, but not the best scientists and it made things hard to figure out.”

“What? You bought that whole non-sentient BS?”

“No.” Danny shook his head, “I just didn’t buy any of it — and I mean none of it. I wanted nothing to do with the whole thing. The whole town thought my parents were crazy, they were always in the lab working, and I only ever saw them briefly once or twice a day. Don’t get me wrong. They’re still my parents and I love them, but… they have two big priorities. Their work and their kids. Their work is just… a higher priority to them.”

“Oh.” Johnny cringed, “Oh. Kid…”

“So yeah. Life sucks. Death sucks… but I really need to know what to do and why Ember is freaking out over me being called ‘favored one’.”

“Uh, right.” Johnny paused, “Well, it’s like old ghost language. Um. Basically, it’s like being called a really, really close friend or adopted family. Kind of like… ‘hey, this is my person that I love and protect’. It’s platonic unless they specify otherwise.”

“Huh, okay.” Danny blinked, “That makes sense, but why would Ember freak out?”

“Well… who called you that?”

“Oh! Clockwork and Pandora call me that when I visit.”

Johnny blanched, “What?”

“And now you’re freaking out, too.”

“You’ve been just- Kid! Are you just casually talking to them?”

“Um, yeah? They said it was okay?”

“Do you know nothing about the hierarchy of the- Wait. No. You didn’t get to talk to Death. Of course you don’t-“ Johnny sighed — covering his eyes, “Okay, so do you know what the ancients are?”

“I thought that was just a saying.”

“No, it’s not-” Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose, “The Ancients are the most powerful spirits in the Zone. They’re ghosts, but they resemble ideals more than they do a person most of the time. Practically gods. The ancients are Undergrowth, Frostbite, Nocturne, Pandora, Clockwork, Vortex, and Pariah Dark. Thing is… where most ghosts plateau at a certain power level the ancients can just keep growing in power. Clockwork is one of the strongest — so strong, the Observants bound him to their will.”

“Yeah, I heard about that, but he’s really nice, you know.” Danny smiled, “And he makes really good cookies really fast.”

Johnny stared at Danny for a long moment, “Danny. Do you not hear yourself right now? He’s basically the god of time.”

“Yeah, but if he didn’t want me to visit, I wouldn’t be able to find him.” Danny shrugged, “So he told me if I can see the clocktower, I’m welcome to come in.”

“Kid…”

“Besides. I’m friends with half of those guys and they’re cool.”

“Wha- How many ancients do you know?”

“Um… All the ones you just listed? I’m friends with Frostbite, Pandora, and Clockwork. I fought Undergrowth, Vortex and Nocturne before, but Nocturne likes me now. Um, Undergrowth doesn’t like me, though. Loves Sam, though… Um, obviously I know who Pariah Dark is after the whole thing in Amity-“

Johnny stilled, “Wait a minute… Kid. I need you to answer me honestly here… Did Pariah ever mention a challenge when you fought him?”

“Well, um. I guess? He was all formal speak, though, so…”

“Kid.” Johnny said very slowly, “Did he ever issue a challenge or accept a challenge from you?”

“… Um. He did say that he accepted my challenge or something, but wasn’t that just fight-talk or…”

“I think I get it now.” Johnny sighed, facepalming, “Just… maybe don’t tell people about this and consider asking one of the ancients allies you have about what Pariah accepting your challenge means for you.”

“For me? What-“

“Just… give it some thought.” Johnny paused, “And- Well, I can talk to Ember for you, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

—

Danny curled up on a sofa as Pandora embraced him with three arms and ran her fourth hand through his hair.

“Pandora.” Danny said softly, “Some of my friends say you, Frostbite, and Clockwork are ancients.”

“They are correct.”

“I didn’t know what ancients were.”

“I noticed.” Pandora laughed a bit, “But you’re a sweet child. You helped me get my box back and did not demand my favor. Perhaps it was selfish not to tell you, but I didn’t want to distress you. You are a kind and humble soul. Is it such a surprise I wish to continue seeing you?”

“You thought I would stop if I did?” Danny asked, confused, “I mean, sure my other friends were shaken up by it, but they don’t know you. Why would I be afraid when you’re so nice?”

Pandora blinked and then smiled warmly — a little laugh pulling from her throat. Oh, the innocence of such a young spirit, “Why, indeed? I suppose I didn’t give you or myself enough credit, did I?”

Danny shrugged, “I don’t have room to judge people for being different anyway. I’m a halfa. Pretty sure that’s even rarer than being an Ancient, right?”

“I suppose that is true.” Pandora smiled, “There are only a few halfas and none are quite like you. There will only ever be one of you.”

“Does this have something to do with why I never got to meet death?” Danny asked, confused, “That’s the only thing I can find that seems all that different-“

“In a way… Yes, but there are many more differences. The main one is that you powers have grown beyond Vlad Masters and they continue to do so.” Pandora said, “You are what we call a ‘Juna Potenco’. Most realms will never have heard of such things, but us ancients do not forget and when faced with a gift like yourself… well, you’ll only see more of us with time.”

“What does that mean? Is it bad?”

“No, no. It is a gift, not a punishment.” Pandora promised, “You are an inspiring soul, favored one, and it seems the realms themselves have seen that.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Danny pulled away and sat up as he shook his head, “I’m a halfa, but that’s what I am. It doesn’t say anything about who I am. There isn’t anything special about who I am.”

“Everyone else disagrees with that last statement.” Pandora shook her head, “But I will let you in on the secret.”

“Yeah?”

“These are not due to your half spirit nature, but something truly special.” Pandora cupped his cheek, “Danny, do you truly wish to know? As amazing as this is, I am not sure you will be ready for the truth just yet.”

“I’m - I’ve been debating what colleges to apply for, but… I don’t know if any of them will take me now with my grades. I still look fourteen — fifteen at the oldest… and I still feel fourteen.” Danny looked at Pandora with pleading eyes, “So if this would impact my future, I think I’d like to know. Before things get complicated.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, everything froze.

Danny looked up to see Clockwork putting a medallion on Pandora while Frostbite gave him a smile.

“I presume you’re here to assist in informing him?” Pandora asked.

“Indeed.” Frostbite nodded.

“Informing me of what?” Danny asked, confused.

“When you went to face Pariah Dark, you stated your intention to fight him.” Clockwork said, “And he accepted your challenge. You fought in single combat, removed the Crown of Fire from his head, and then managed to get him into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.”

“Vlad-“

“Plasmius might have locked the Sarcophagus, but you have repeatedly bested him and even when he has gotten the best of you, it has not been in single combat. However, Plasmius at one point claimed your fight was a ‘fun challenge’. You agreed — officially accepting it as such. When you defeated him, he lost any fragile claim to the throne.”

“Claim to the- Wait. What are you saying?” Danny glanced between them, “What? No. No… you have to be kidding me. I’m just me. I was trying to help, not-“

“Child, your soul was always going to be tied to the zone one way or another.” Pandora said, “Mortality is already a fragile thing, but someone so surrounded by ectoplasm at a young age all while experiencing the struggles you did with your parents absence… it was inevitable that you would be a powerful ghost.”

“But, then, Great One.” Frostbite continued, “You stood fully emerged in the space between worlds and thought of protection and forgiveness — mercy. You did not even consider vengeance or desires of your own. Only the wellbeing of others. It is an act of great sacrifice and not one many can complete so fully.”

“To put it simply, Danny.” Pandora said, “You’re one of us, Juna Protenco. New and young power that will grow infinitely. Though you are far from ancient, you will be with time.”

“An ancient to be.” Danny said distantly.

“The Ancient of Protection, Space, Mercy, and Matter.” Clockwork turned into his newborn form, “The best candidate for king we’ve had in a long time. Though, perhaps I am a bit biased.”

“Does it have something to do with space-time?” Danny guessed, “Because Matter, Time, and Space…”

“Correct.” Clockwork smirked, “Matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved spacetime tells matter how to move. I guide you and you make changes that I will use to guide you again.”

Dannu blinked, “Oh. I get it.”

“You do?” Pandora blinked.

“That’s domains for you.” Frostbite chuckled and then quickly explained when Danny gave him a confused look, “We all innately understand our domains and their meanings. My domain is progression, society, and advancement.”

“Mine is responsibility, hope, protection, and perseverance.” Pandora revealed.

“Indeed.” Clockwork transformed into the middle aged man again, “But now that you know of your future, we must prepare.” He put his hand on Danny’s shoulder, “Your coronation must happen by the time you turn eighteen. As Ghost King, you will need to learn some diplomatic skills. We will teach you while you finish your human schooling.” Clockwork promised, “You can tell your parents the truth or you can say you are simply leaving for college, but Maddie and Jack Fenton cannot move to the Zone with you. Your sister is welcome. Your friends are welcome, but unfortunately…”

“I understand.” Danny lowered his head, “I don’t think I’ll tell them just yet. Maybe I’ll leave a note or a video, but…”

Clockwork’s eyes glazed over briefly — clearly checking the timeline.

“That is a good idea.” Clockwork nodded.

“Okay.” Danny swallowed, “I can’t -”

“No.” Clockwork said, “Honored as these two would be, they have their duties and people. They cannot. I am both bound by the Observants and a little too prone to acts of selfishness. It is too much power for me. No. It must be you.”

“You’re not selfish. You helped me.” Danny tilted his head, confused.

Clockwork chuckled guiltily as Pandora made a face and Frostbite shifted awkwardly.

“There is a reason people fear me, Danny.” Clockwork seemed more amused than anything by the sudden awkwardness, “I appreciate your trust in me, but I was not so good or kind in life. I hold domain over regret and retribution as well as time. It is a position I earned after giving and getting both in equal measure. I am not a protective spirit by nature. I am one that seeks justice and sometimes revenge.”

“I don’t get it.” Danny frowned, confused.

“Soon, you will.” Clockwork said grimly, “But for now… Trust me when I say all is as it should be.”

“Okay.” Danny said, “I trust you.”

“Now, time in.” Clockwork said. When Danny tried to give him the medallion he shook his head, “No, hold onto it. I believe it goes without saying, but do not lose it.”

“I know. I won’t.” Danny promised.

“Good, now… I believe you have some friends to talk to?”

“Er, right!” Danny said and rushed off.

“He doesn’t know who you are?” Frostbite turned to Clockwork, “And you haven’t told him?”

“… He’ll learn during his studies.” Clockwork admitted begrudgingly, “And it’s best that he come to me after he processes the information than during.”

“Just remember, Kronos.” Pandora glared as she handed over her medallion, “One wrong move-“

“Yes, yes, I am very aware of your opinions of me, Keeper of Hope.” Clockwork held a hand to Frostbite, “Shall I take you back to your people?”

“Er, yes.”

“Good, then-“

“Hey! I was not finished-“

“TIME OUT!”

Pandora sighed as they disappeared, “Ugh. He is always such a petty menace. One of these days…”

I'm pretty curious: what if Vlad makes his clone son eventually? Would his obsession with Danny be over if he had his own clone son?

Perhaps he decided he no longer needed the real Danny because he had his own clone, or maybe he couldn’t stop being obsessed with Danny, and his cloned son didn’t satisfy his desires

Possible scenario: Vlad wasn’t satisfied with his clone son, even though he was the perfect clone he had always wanted, so he abandoned him just as he once did with Dani

Vlad’s evil plan to adopt Danny as his son never ends, which makes his clone son envious of the real Danny.

Vlad uses his clone son as a pawn...

It’s cliché, but this is the best I can come up with 🙄

+

this gonna be a very interesting scene: Danny watching the clone admires Vlad as his father with his face

He would need a vomit bag

8k, tomarry, fluff, time travel, murder mystery with magic, MOD HP

(or) Tom Riddle keeps stumbling over things that don't make sense, until they do. There is a magical cat, an antique shop and a string of murders, when life has been nothing but boring lately. (Chaos ensues).

There was a one eyed cat sitting on the still of Borgin and Burke's.

It looked up lazily, sleepily as Tom's shadow obscured its form where it sat against the rotting black wood Burke refused to replace no matter how many times it fell apart, only to be reluctantly stitched back together with magic and intent alone.

One eye had been meticulously shut with care, the scar leaving faint grey lines against its skin. The only one eye visible was as green as an emerald and so intense Tom had the brief unwelcome thought of carving it out with a spoon to make a pendant for himself.

The black cat cast a singular penetrating gaze at him and seemed to find him lacking, as it resumed the meticulous grooming it had been adamant on doing since before Tom arrived. Being dismissed by such a small creature felt like a personal offense somehow. Tom readied a mild hex at his fingertips.

One tail swung back and forth, agitated, before splitting down the middle into two long wispy tails made mostly of black smoke. There was an old japanese tale, he recalled, of cat spirits who possessed two tails (they also consumed human meat, and were said to be rather malicious in nature). They could also summon magic with their tails and had a particular affinity for necromancy .

"Move then, I need to open the shop." Tom sidestepped the cat once it scooted towards one side and took out a big ring full of long skeleton keys from the pocket of his coat, knowing from experience the lock refused to settle for only one key, no matter how many times it was changed over the years. The door knew too, that making Tom try more than two keys each morning would lead to a flammable disaster.

The door opened on the first try.

Tom turned to look back at the little creature still sitting on the still.

It held no collar and no identification he could see.

"Well?" He prompted, holding the door open with his shoulder as he looked down. "Are you coming in or not?"

~

There was a new store on one of the few unnamed side Alleys that branched off of Diagon.

It sat by the end of a cobblestone street, alone. Most of the surrounding shops had closed or given away to rot or decay, the war with Grindelwald stretching far and wide and making more and more people flee in hopes of finding a home away from War.

The shop had a front entirely made of old oak wood, dark and polished as it curved over the entrance door like an archway come alive right out of a renaissance painting. Below, a dark green wooden door with four little glass windows awaited, a sign painted in delicate strokes indicated the shop was open.

The only window visible from the outside was filled to the brim with plants, from big ones to smaller ones, from cactus to succulents and all the range of interior plants in all shapes and sizes, climbing up and down the wooden frame of the window like vines. One would think, perhaps mistakenly, that it was a herbology store.

However, inside was absolutely crowded from top to bottom with an innumerable amount of... things .

It was an antique shop.

~

Abraxas had been against Tom working at Borgin & Burke's for the longest time.

As much as the shop had a frequent clientele of Dark Witches and Wizards of all origins and held the most foul and interesting objects one knew to find in a decrepit corner of Knockturn, it was also terribly unsafe.

Tom was meant for grandness . Not... whatever this was.

Abraxas had begged and pleaded and tried to reason with Tom, to drag him out of there and into his Manor countless times. He had sat and talked to Orion Black about it more times than he cared to mention, only to be turned back and again by the cold freezing silver eyes each time he brought it up.

"It's his choice." Had been Orion's only answer, the second time Abraxas had tried to reason with him.

' His choice ' he'd said, but was it really?

Tom had always been a man striving for the top, he never contented himself with anything less than exceptional and he was not a man so prideful that he would not accept help from the outside.

And yet.

Yet, there he stood, behind the counter of Borgin & Burke's each morning, shadows pulling at his blue eyes and curls falling just over his nose, hair the longest Abraxas had ever seen him wear.

He was, perhaps perplexingly enough, speaking to a cat.

He looked up as Abraxas approached, blue eyes as intense as ever.

"Tom." Abraxas side eyed the black cat sitting on the counter, knowing from experience animals had a blatant dislike for him. He looked back at Tom, who wore a rather indulgent look about him so out of place in the decrepit shop that made Abraxas remember mornings spent bent over cauldron's and shared breakfasts at the Slytherin table. That look had been rather absent as of late.

Tom hummed in greeting, long fingered hand petting the black cat from head to tail.

The cat had only one green eye, looking down at Abraxas like he was a particularly nasty bug and was weighing the pro's and con's of eating him whole.

An impossible notion, surely .

A shudder went through him. Perhaps best not to test it.

"We have been invited to the Samhain gathering." Abraxas took a step down the counter, trying to get away from the cat as he took an envelope out from the depths of his robes. The hellish creature followed him with its unnerving eye, pupil slimming down to a thin long line in the center.

"Who is hosting this year?" Tom waved a hand and the envelope floated up and away from Abraxas, seal breaking and opening before him.

"House Lestrange." He answered back. Tom pulled a face, before closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. Abraxas felt much the same about the whole situation, already dreading the long hours of having to deal with the new Head of the Family without the possibility for an escape.

Sadly, as much as the invitation was that, an invitation to attend, they could not be absent.

"Orion?" Tom asked, letting the envelope fall and taking a step back and away from the polished wooden counter, arms crossed over his chest.

The cat turned towards him, forgetting Abraxas entirely as it stretched towards Tom with languid movements. Tom indulged it a bit, one hand reaching out to rub against its cheek and up an ear. The cat leaned into the touch, purring loudly, the sound not dissimilar to the Draught of Living Death boiling on a cauldron top.

Abraxas watched the exchange with wide eyes, before remembering himself.

"Attending. Lord Black has been more and more insistent he start to take more responsibilities as the Heir." He could remember both Lucretia and Orion standing side by side as they walked behind their father on their way to a Wizengamot meeting. Orion was burning two silver holes on his Lord's back, while Lucretia walked a half step behind him, an old anger pulling at her features like a vulture.

Lord Black had picked Orion over his twin sister for the Heirship, and neither sibling seemed to be particularly happy about it.

Since then, Orion had more or less disappeared from their lives entirely.

"It'll be a while before he retires." Tom stated, eyes looking to a point far away, considering.

And it certainly would. They both knew Lord Black would not cede control of the Black Estate to anyone if he was not on his deathbed. Far too many hands were reaching out and hoping to take the Lordship, but Arcturus was nothing if not tenacious and particularly immune to poison.

If it were anyone but Arcturus Black sitting at the Head, Abraxas was sure the House of Black would have fallen in the same fate House Lestrange currently faced.

Tom sighed. His hand fell away from the cat, leaning one arm on the counter to gaze down at the offending letter.

"Let's meet at Black Manor." He said, his tone clear that Abraxas would be the one to inform the Blacks. "Salazar knows I can't stand Callum Lestrange speaking anything more than a greeting."

"Hopefully his wine will be poisoned." And hopefully both Abraxas and Tom would be far enough away from the power vacuum when it happened.

A slow smirk made way on the other boy's face. The cat let out a discontent sound, clearly put off by the lack of attention.

"Oh, Abraxas. It'll certainly be a show worth watching. "

~

Unbeknownst to most of the residents of Diagon, the antique shop had been one of the first buildings to appear in the Alley. Of course, it had been a different time, and the streets were not shaped quite the same.

As time went past, new shops had grown from the ground up like tenacious weeds around the shop, warping and changing the map as they pleased.

The antique shop, of course, had not always been an antique shop. It had started out of all things, as a library .

A public library for all witches and wizards who desired knowledge and craved stories from somewhere deep in their hearts. Only those curious enough would find themselves obscuring its doorstep.

The library had been home to countless books and grimoires, plants that crawled between shelves and faires that made houses out of sticks and notes left forgotten on tables. Despite its deceptively small exterior, inside it was a whole world on its own.

Floor upon floors of knowledge harvested through the years by peers from all over stood on shelves, or stacked on top of one another on tables or on the wooden floor, and even hanging from the ceiling.

The little haven was open at all hours, if not always manned by someone up front. The lights were scattered throughout, coming from oil lamps and candles and small magical fires, all perfectly safe to be within a library, as was standard after the burning of Alexandria.

Some people only found the library once in a lifetime.

Others would come across it quite often.

Some others, the ones who did remember a time where they had entered such a place, vowed to stay between its books the next time they encountered it. As such, it was not strange to find people making a home for themselves between the shelves, transfiguring armchairs and tables into beds and tents to sleep in.

The air inside was cozy and warm, filled to the brim with magic and in the background there was always a lonesome tune coming from a piano abandoned somewhere on the third floor. Sometimes, if people came across it, they would sit and play to their heart's content, and the piano would play something cheery and joyful for days after, before remembering its loneliness and playing mournful tunes after. Someone at some point had thought to leave a plant to keep it company, and ever since then the music had been less melancholic and more something along the lines of classical tunes. It always depended on the mood and tilt to the leaves of the plant, that over the years had grown exponentially under the care of the piano, and reached across the floor towards a window quite easily.

However, curiosity and creativity in all its forms seemed to die a slow painful death in Britain.

From countless Wars, to witch burnings, to the Great Depression, made the library literally inaccessible to the average witch or wizard just going through the motions of life hoping for better days ahead.

After all, if one didn't seek, one wouldn't find.

The library and its occupants remained alone for a long time.

Soon enough, even those who had ventured into its depths forgot such a magical place existed.

~

Someone was trying to kill the Lestrange Head before he even made his introductions, stuttering and twitching, glassy brown eyes moving from place to place as he motioned for Lord Black and his wife around the parlor.

It was not the fact someone was so blatantly trying to kill him (as that was rather usual) it was the dark threads woven around his body like a particularly dark marionette moving him around like a fool. It was rather distasteful.

House Lestrange would be a case study for historians to come, that was for sure. After Corbin Lestrange had fallen prey to Dragon Pox a year prior, the continuity of the legacy of his House had been put to question. After all, the man had no children to call his own.

What followed had been a bloody path of betrayals, murders, back stabbings and public executions that left the House a fraction of what it once was.

Hence the fact that Callum Lestrange, a boy two years his junior and barely reaching the eighteen years of age required to take up the Lordship was being displayed like a marionette. His older brother, who had been Tom's classmate and a fellow Slytherin, had taken one look at the bloody throne and had let the Lordship pass down to his younger brother. Corvus was no fool, and yet, if his little brother fell he would be sure to follow.

Whoever was behind the fall of House Lestrange would not be content to leave anyone alive, it seemed.

The threads around the Lord —a boy really— wavered and tensed as his body was moved. Lord Black was growing increasingly irate at the whole display, and simply scoffed as Callum's bottom lip wobbled as he showed them towards the ball room with stiff and violent movements.

The ambient magic around them suddenly became oppressive, heavy and thick. Malicious and void-like. The threads tightened around the puppet's neck like a noose. A warning for others to not intervene. The boy choked and reached for his neck with desperate hands, only to be stopped by the very same threads, a whimper fell from his lips as the noose tightened and closed off his air supply.

Tom watched with dispassionate eyes as the show continued. He wondered at what point the Aurors would be called in.

Then, a single movement came from the heavy magic that had settled around them, distinctively different from the one surrounding the threads around the boy. It wavered in the air, there and gone again in an instant.

All the strings holding the boy were cut, the magic snapping back like a sling towards the caster. The boy fell with a thud, unconscious.

Somewhere deep in the ballroom, someone fell to their knees with a scream.

"How unpleasant." Lord Black murmured, eyes on the fallen boy. He walked towards the ballroom with his wife, not looking back.

Tom looked around for the one responsible, but no one was anywhere near the entrance, all the attending parties more than put off by the offending display of power.

Tom peeled away from Abraxas and Orion, who both stood gazing down at Callum, half tempted to help him.

A witch appeared from between the crowd in the ballroom pushing people out of her path, robes fluttering about as she made her way towards them with purposeful steps.

She wore a look so angry and violent Orion took one look and grabbed Abraxas to move him out of her way.

Cassiopeia Black kneeled by the unconscious body, uncaring for her pristine black robes and started casting diagnostic spells around, all the while cursing and bad mouthing people left and right.

Orion stood by his cousin's back and waved them off, knowing the whole process would take a long while.

Cassiopeia's wife walked sedately towards them, a put off look on her face that signaled she might have puked somewhere along the way.

Tom left them to it, steps taking him away from the entrance towards the main room where music was playing in the background.

He let his magic reach out, trying to find the threads of magic of the one that had so beautifully snapped the strings like they were made of paper.

He found a man –a boy really, going by the baby fat clinging stubbornly to his cheeks– stood by himself in a corner, dressed in a black robe that touched the ground each time he moved. Dark grey antlers had been stitched on his back, curving delicately up and over his shoulders like a necklace.

A glass of wine was dangling from one slack hand, gaze set somewhere far and out a window that looked to the gardens below.

He turned to Tom as he came to stand by his side. His eyes were as green as two emeralds, and a scar in the shape of lightning ran down one side of his face from temple to cheek. The hairs at his temple where the scar began, along with the eyelashes on the same side had turned white.

He was beautiful .

His magic felt more tame now, less hungry.

"You shouldn't have." Tom prompted as a way of greeting.

The boy smiled, indulgent as he turned to face him. The grey antlers stitched in the fabric that extended from his back ended somewhere around his chest, from where leaves of dark green and yellow dangled down his front like vines.

"Shouldn't I?" He tilted his head, and curls fell over his forehead as he looked up at Tom. A small smile played at his lips.

He smelled like vanilla and roses.

"I'll be sure to have consequences." He leaned forward a bit, into the boy's space, trying to get a feel of both his magic and sweet scent.

" Will it? " A real smile stretched then, full of teeth.

Samhain at Aviary Manor was terribly dreadful. He had known it would be since he accepted the invitation.

In fact, he was sure each family that had been invited knew it would be a shit show, and yet not one of them had come forward to take the host mantle from the Lestranges.

To be sure, no one wanted that kind of family drama in their own homes.

On top of that, Tom was growing rather bored of the stagnant conversations floating around, every single guest present trying to one up the other with useless accomplishments, or new positions within the corrupt Ministry, or new houses bought on foreign land for an extraordinarily inflated price, and so on and on it dragged on.

Finally, when he thought he wouldn't be able to stand another story about a breeder who liked to sell Kneazles bred with Wampuses (and what dreadful creatures, so wild they would bite the hand that fed them) , a hand gently laid on his back.

He turned his head to find two green eyes curiously gazing up at him, a knowing look about him that said he knew he was interrupting and he just didn't care.

The boy leaned in to whisper in his ear, standing on the tips of his toes and using his arm for balance in a display not often seen in the crowd Tom was used to frequent. Too close. Too improper .

"Do you dance?" His voice was breathy and playful, their faces close together.

"Obviously." He muttered back, face turning to lock onto green eyes.

" Obviously . " The boy repeated back, expectant and unabashed at his own forwardness.

Well. Dancing certainly seemed more entertaining than standing around listening to people trying to tilt their noses any more closer to the ceiling.

He adjusted the arm the boy was already touching, prompting him to hold on.

"Let's go, then."

He dragged the stranger somewhere towards the outskirts of the dancing crowd, grabbing onto his cold hand and turning him about. He guided him to hold onto his shoulder, while his own hand settled right above his hip.

"They really don't know when to let it go, do they?" The boy mumbled, gaze locked towards the direction they had just come from. "I swear this looks like a dick measuring competition."

A startled chuckle left Tom's lips.

"What, you didn't want to join?" He couldn't help himself, even if he tried.

"Do I look like someone who would want to– don't answer that ." He cast a suspicious look up at Tom, green eyes narrowed. "Do you like to watch the dick measuring?"

A smirk stretched across Tom's face.

"I'm not opposed." And Salazar knew just how far Tom had gone in the past to get the things he wanted. The amount of things he had to stand by and shoulder just to get a glimpse of what should have been his in the first place. He didn't lower himself quite so hard as of late, more than angry enough to strike if looked at with even a hint of contempt in the faces of his peers.

"Of course you aren't." The stranger shot back, aggravated.

"Are we still speaking of pricks? " The smile on Tom's face was somewhere between predatory and entertained.

The boy tilted his head to the side, green eyes framed by silver wire glasses glinting with mischief. Up close the scar looked more like a natural discoloration of the skin rather than a carving down his flesh. Tom could count the white eyelashes obscuring one green eye with how close they stood together.

"Dunno, are we?" There was a hint of teasing in his tone, light and airy as he leaned a little into Tom's space.

Tom retaliated, and grabbed onto his waist more firmly, arm going all the way around forcing the boy to take a step (a stumble) towards him.

The boy scoffed, a look half offended crossing his face. His nose scrunched up and the light dusting of freckles across his skin moved in unison like stars reflected on water.

"How about introductions before you insinuate yourself to me?" Tom settled on, as he moved them from side to side, steps easy and measured.

"Is that what you think I was doing?" The boy muttered back, eyes falling towards their feet, trying to find the rhythm. He took a stumble and a sidestep, almost stepped into Tom's shoes twice before he leaned more heavily onto him.

"Weren't you?"

" You're the one who approached me in the first place!" He looked contrite and impossibly offended, an impatient hand moving the curls around his face back and away before settling it back on Tom's shoulder.

A smirk broke onto his face before Tom could think to stop it.

"Perhaps I was the one doing the se–"

"Harry." He interrupted, before Tom could continue. "Well. Hadrian , technically." He clarified, an uncomfortable shift to his step letting Tom know he didn't like the form of address. "Peverell." He added, more as an afterthought than anything.

"Tom Riddle."

" I know ."

"Oh?" Well . Wasn't that interesting? After all, Tom knew little to nothing of his surname. He was sure, however, he'd heard it somewhere. Perhaps a foreign name?

"You came with Lord Black." Harry said, as if that was any form of explanation.

"I did." Tom's tone hinting at Harry to continue, but the boy only looked away towards the dancing crowd.

"I can't believe they let them Host with the smell of cooling bodies in every corner of the Manor. They even planted roses at the front, the disrespect." He spoke in a low voice, only meant for Tom's ears. He was looking towards the entrance door.

Indeed, in the front garden white roses had been planted besides the main path, unusually in full bloom for the time of year, too late into fall for them to be so full of flowers. The sickly sweet smell of roses had almost made Tom gag as they approached the front door.

"Why roses?" He couldn't help but ask, as the boy seemed impossibly offended by this fact alone.

He looked back at Tom, green eyes searching for a moment. He answered back slowly, carefully and with a patient tone about him that said he knew much more than he let on.

"It has been described to me, multiple times and on countless occasions, that death smells sickly sweet ." He said, with a put upon look that said it was all bullshit. "It really doesn't. It smells foetid, sour and pungent. Meat is meat, after all, and death comes whether or not it's a muggle or a witch or a rat. The bitterly sweet smell of vanilla and flowers is to cover it all up. But you can definitely tell it's not just the roses up at front."

Tom hummed, swaying them gently away from the warpath of a couple intent on twirling out of orbit.

"They really are smearing their name through the mud. Soon enough there will be no one to sit on that god awful throne, and the vultures will pick at their bodies like a feast."

The infamous throne sat in the corner of the ball room. It was tacky, Victorian in nature. Multiple ravens crawled on top of one another made out of metal and glass. In some parts it was rusting, and hints of red here and there could be caught in the light of the candles.

"Another show." Tom agreed, as soon as House Lestrange fell, another would take its place. It was a matter of survival.

Harry sighed in his arms, dragging Tom away towards the edge of the crowd as the couple circling around had once more almost bumped into them.

"Enough of that. What about you, Tom Riddle?" There was an air that said Harry had much more to say about the Lestranges, but he withheld his tongue.

"Shouldn't you know? You knew who I came with, after all." He teased.

"Excuse me, I don't pretend to know every single one of Orion's little friends." He had the vague notion that he'd never been referred to as such.

"I resent that."

"Good." A mischievous smile settled on the curve of Harry's lips.

"How do you know each other, then?" A groan left Harry as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling, exasperated beyond measure.

"Lord Black invited me over for tea last month, he tried to coax me into a marriage with his daughter—"

"To Lucretia?"

"–I should have known, really." He continued, as if he hadn't interrupted him. However, the pink tint to his cheeks betrayed him. The freckles became more prominent against his blush, going from beneath his eyes all the way up his temple and around his nose. "After I told him I really wasn't interested he changed tracks and started on about how Orion would be an excellent match and–"

"To Orion? " Harry turned impossibly redder.

"– shut up! Anyways I barely escaped that conversation, only for him to try and corner me to introduce me to his son on each and every place we cross paths–"

"Terribly dreadful." He mumbled beneath his breath, however Harry was on one track and speaking a mile a minute.

" Isn't it? I can't even look at the twins in the eyes knowing their father is trying to set us up–"

"Do you want to be set up?"

" No! It would be like... marrying into my own family, I don't know." He grimaced.

"That isn't a deterrent to most people in this room." Tom threw in, just to watch Harry glare back up at him. When Harry noticed the playful gleam in his eyes he tossed his head back with a groan.

"Don't play into it too." He whined, hitting the back of his hand lightly against Tom's chest.

"Why not, darling? You look possibly entertained, dare I say." Tom swayed them from side to side at the rhythm of the music, a possessive hand still curved around Harry's waist, keeping their bodies flush against each other.

"Do you want me to marry Orion?" There was an accusing tone somewhere deep in there.

"You would make a dreadful consort." Tom said, poking at him a little.

The whine Harry let out in response was truly delightful. He leaned forward into Tom's chest, hiding his red face somewhere in between the lapels of his robes.

"You're awful."

Tom bit his lip, endeared beyond measure and terribly fascinated.

"I've been told. Many times ."

"I'm sure you have."

They danced for a while, sharing comments on the dress of some or another, critiquing a Lord who was way too drunk for the time of night, or the god-awful wood one of the witches at the far corner called a wand.

Tom wasn't blind to the looks they were getting as more and more time went on, when neither of them changed dancing partners.

Lord Black looked personally offended by the whole thing.

Harry was an easy weight on his arms, comfortable and self assured as he found his footing in between their steps, following along both Tom and the music as they moved across the room.

Their dance was interrupted just as Harry was starting to slow, clearly tired of going around in circles. Tom had wanted to ask if he wanted to sit down and eat, but he didn't get the opportunity to do so.

Orion appeared by their side like a particularly uninvited dark cloud. Harry turned away to hide his face on Tom's chest, far too improper and impossibly amusing.

"Would you like to dance, Hadrian?" Orion asked in the most monotone Tom had ever heard him utter out. He looked as enthusiastic as Harry at the prospect. He was only being polite for the sake of his father, Tom knew.

It didn't make the curl of anger and jealousy any less intense.

" No ." Harry mumbled against the fabric of his robes, face still buried.

"I could get you a drink, perhaps?" He continued, as if Harry hadn't spoken.

Harry only grabbed tighter onto Tom, and if he had been anyone else but this endearing boy he would have cursed them black and blue.

Orion looked at him in the eyes and took a careful step back. He wouldn't want to step on a serpent ready to strike, after all.

"How about a walk outside?" He said. But he was not addressing Harry. The question was turned to Tom, begging him to get them away to have an out of the situation just so Lord Black wouldn't come breathing down his neck again.

Tom nodded, prying Harry's hands away from his robes as he walked them down towards the gardens.

"They really don't know when to quit, I swear." Harry mumbled as they lost sight of Orion and the surrounding crowd.

Tom wondered what made Harry so special Lord Black wanted him in his family by unbreakable ties so insistently.

~

The Library had fallen slowly to decay, after a time. The books remained unread, gathering dust and magic, forgotten where they sat for years and years and years. The armchairs remained unused, moving from side to side of the library wondering why no one would come in.

A ghoul had moved in at some point, and after the last of a long dynasty of shopkeepers died in their sleep, it took over manning the desk.

The ghoul didn't much understand the concept of time, and much less the use of Wizarding money. But it kept the shop clean of other plagues, such as insects and rats and the occasional ashwinder , a magical snake that grew from the everlasting magical fire by the corner of the main floor when the ghoul wasn't looking.

For a brief period of two years, a kind witch had tried to convert it into a cozy little coffee shop. As one can imagine, it didn't last .

Both the ghoul and the magical fire had refused to leave, the books had been crammed into the attic one on top of another and the armchairs reluctantly repurposed.

Yet, the buildings falling apart around it, and the fact that the little side alley's entrance, branching from Diagon, was covered by bigger, flashier shops made it impossible for the café to survive.

Years went by, and the building sat sad and (mostly) empty.

Then the Childe of Death came along.

~

The smell from the gardens at the back of the Aviary Manor was less intense than those at front. It probably had something to do with the lack of rose brushes set up on every inch of the path leading up the front door. It had clearly been a statement, for those who knew to read into it.

Like Harry.

Tom spied at his companion from the corner of his eyes, from his slim build to the dark circles most people would cover behind a glamour. It was clearly intentional on his part, as he seemed to leave nothing for speculation.

His hands were covered in silver rings carved with runes and stones inlaid in between, and pendants and piercings hung from his ears and glinted in the moonlight every time he turned his head.

He wondered what the antlers at his back meant.

Everything about him was slightly dark, and he carried something heavy with him Tom could not name, but he could feel deep within himself.

A sense of uneasiness, despite his rather cheerful and harmless demeanor.

A mask of sorts.

It felt like a pull, as if Harry was a black hole and Tom nothing but a dying star waiting to be sucked in, stardust and magic wavering between them, dancing around just as their bodies had, not a moment before.

Harry looked up at him from beneath his bangs, green eyes curious.

They were finally far enough for the music in the ballroom to be nothing but a murmur in the night.

The Estate where the Aviary sat was within a valley split by a roaring river flowing from the surrounding mountains, water clear most of the year, except for a few weeks where rainstorms fell with the fury of gods seeking vengeance, water tearing apart stones and earth in it's path down the mountain, dark and muddy and dangerous.

The water was clear now, a mirror of silver flowing calmly and without rush.

A wooden bridge had been erected at some point, curved over the river bed. On the other side there was a long stretch of green tall grass, seemingly unaffected by the cold.

Tom and Harry walked close together, shoulders brushing as they made their way down to the water.

Harry slipped a hand on one of his robe pockets and pulled out a brown piece of paper that was crinkled at the edges. The strong smell of dark chocolate reached Tom's nose before his eyes could settle on the dark treat between Harry's hands.

A smile had settled on Harry's face when their eyes met, and he offered up a piece without being prompted.

The bittersweet taste, mixed together with the feeling of Harry's heavy magic made Tom sigh and close his eyes as they walked down the slope of the hill. The calming sound of the water and the chill feeling of the night made the knot stubbornly sat between his shoulder blades, tighten and let go.

Harry slipped his arm on the crook of his elbow and leaned towards him a little, just resting his weight as they walked down in tandem.

"Do you think either Callum or Corvus will be dead by the time we walk back?" His voice stretched far in the night.

"I don't know." Tom responded, a lightness to his tone he hadn't had in himself in a while. "Depends on how much time you want to spend out here with me." He teased. "An hour? Perhaps two?" He let a beat pass between them. " Three days? "

A startled laugh left Harry, light and fleeting in the night.

"An eternity ?" Harry shot back instead, green eyes looking far into the night sky. The stars seemed to twinkle in answer.

"I can deal with that."

~

The antique shop was filled to the brim with objects.

Just as the library had, the items had been collected from hand to hand and passed down a long line of people to reach the shop.

The shelves that had once made up the library had been repurposed with loving hands, and narrow paths stretched between them as they stood side by side. If a person were to enter they would have to dodge items that refused to stay on the confines of the shelves themselves, sometimes on the floor or floating around trying to find a spot to call a temporary home.

Not one item was the same as another, on the main floor. From priceless heirlooms of long lost families, to stones and jewelry lovingly crafted by Goblins, to paintings and statues on all shapes and sizes.

The top of the shelves themselves acted as a middle floor, between the main floor and the first one, connected by planks of wood and ladders to open a path between each section. Even more objects had been placed there, and the plants hanging from the ceiling looked down with apprehension as people walked on the precariously placed paths on top of the bookshelves. Little kids, as usual, loved to climb.

The second and third floor functioned mostly as the original building had intended: a Library. The books had been more than pleased to be put back on the shelves, on the floor and tables and even windowsills. Muggle records and books had been added, and even if they didn't hold any magic themselves, they soaked the ambient flow around them like sponges, filling up to the littlest atom with magic. The surrounding books found it funny, so they let the muggle things stay.

The armchairs moved from place to place, and sometimes they even came down to the main floor and helped people along the shop like particularly enthusiastic puppies.

The ghoul still manned the desk sometimes, but more often than not it sat behind it by an open window that was sunny year round, a couple of plants had been placed by it's stool and it grumbled and grunted from time to time to remind the rude people that visited the store, it was still very much alive (as much as a creature such as this could be) and would not hesitate to being harm if they were being disrespectful. The plants around it seemed to agree with the sentiment, and they would curl around the shoulders of the shop owner with a possessiveness not seen anywhere else in Britain.

The basement had been a new addition.

It was not easily accessible for those witches and wizards that came from the world above looking to buy or sell, looking to read and wander.

The basement was a transition place for some.

A train station for others. A pit stop on a long ride that would take them elsewhere.

Sometimes it served as a tea house, or a coffee stop, or even a forest.

For Harry, it was the place where he saw the most people come through.

Somewhere simply lost and trying to find their way back, even if their souls told them they had to go on. For others, it was a place to share tea and stories and wait for just a little more. They were not ready yet.

Sometimes all they needed was an ear to listen. Someone to tell all the troubles they'd had in life and still wrapped around them in death.

Some were angry beyond measure, and they would lash out and try to find a way out to hurt the people above. Harry could not let those go.

The ghoul manned the desk for days and days after the angry ones visited. An impatient and concerned tone to its grunts that informed the local shoppers it was not to be aggravated too much, lest it would attack. The plants sometimes had to hold onto it for good measure.

Most of all, the shop was filled with magic. And stories. And the occasional ghost.

Harry was quite proud of it, even if it wasn't the life he would have envisioned for himself once upon a time.

Sirius' death during his fifth year, and the consequent hunger that had haunted his every step had been more than enough for Harry to take the wrong train one night.

Enough to end up in the tea house below an abandoned library-turned-shop.

Death had been more than pleased at the company.

~

Harry stepped first into the wooden bridge, and dragged Tom by the hand until they stood together in the middle.

The calming sound of the water was a balm to his soul. He had seen way too many shadows clinging to people for one night. He didn't need to know exactly how many people would obscure his doorstep in the next few months, thank you.

He turned to the boy by his side.

Tom Riddle both looked so much like the shadow of the Diary he had met in his second year, and yet nothing like it. He looked older, and a tiredness that could not be fixed by sleep or rest pulled down at his blue eyes. His hair stood long in loose curls, the point between having to cut it or commit to a ponytail not far now. He looked pale and a little hollow, and yet he stood tall by Harry, and impossibly warm.

He was half a Soul now, he knew. It should not be possible for this boy to stand as warm and as sane as he did.

There was a void in the tear of his soul Harry had felt as soon as he had stepped on the dance floor. It sucked light and magic with a tremendous pull, and Harry wondered how it was Tom hadn't noticed.

His magic worked overtime to fill the void that would remain open like a wound left to fester and crawl with foulness if left alone.

Harry turned to face him, eyes closed and hand resting somewhere in Tom's chest.

He could feel it even now, trying to pull his own magic in the black hole in hopes it would fix it.

The amount of magic required to keep it going made Harry intimately aware he stood beside the most powerful wizard he had encountered, ever.

A second coming of Merlin, perhaps. If only he hadn't been so foolish to think a simple Horcrux would be enough to stray Death from his path.

Half a Soul was half the magic, after all.

It was impressive the only tales of soul sickness were the dark circles and the pale complexion. It spoke more about his strength than Harry was careful to admit, even to himself.

He let his magic be sucked by the boy, and he felt more than heard the sigh Tom let out.

They were standing already very close together, but Tom brought him even closer by putting an arm around him.

When he lifted his head he found two dark intense eyes gazing down at him, perhaps a little perplexed at the mystery package that was Harry himself.

He couldn't help the hand that moved the curls away from Tom's handsome face, a thought between grabbing a pair of scissors or using magic to get rid of the extra length.

Tom must have sensed his intentions, as his eyes turned a little mischievous.

"I know." He sighed, put upon.

"Yet you let it get this long." Harry tugged a curl down and stretched it as far as it could go. It reached somewhere around his chin. "Either commit to it or cut it. Terribly improper of you to go around with a mop for a head full of hair."

A sharp smile was all the warning he got, as a hand tugged down the satin piece of fabric holding his hair in place and mostly away from his face. Black curls settled around his face like a mane. There was a reason Harry didn't wear his hair down without an excessive amount of hair products. His curls were not soft and tame like Tom's, rather they stubbornly wanted to fit one on top of the other in tight circles and twists. It had been worse when he had short hair, as the ends spiked every which way they wanted.

"Hey!" He went for the cloth with small hands, even as Tom held it out of reach and above their heads.

"You are one to talk about cutting down hair."

"Don't you dare shame me for my hair, Tom Riddle. It was all well and good before you got your hands on it!"

Perhaps Harry should have worded it differently.

Hands sunk into the back of his hair, warm and big and playful. They tilted his head back and Harry had no choice but to meet Tom's hungry gaze.

There was no question needed between them, no confirmation for the next step in their dance.

Tom's lips met his in a slow kiss, languid and wet and right .

Harry sighed as he leaned more weight onto him, knowing his hands would hold his body firm and the warmth of their magic met in the middle, in all the points where they touched. His hands went from Tom's chest up his neck and up his cheeks.

Tom's hands traveled down his back to his waist, and held Harry more firmly in his place against him.

Tom Riddle smelled oddly sweet. Like a half blend between vanilla and chocolate fighting for its life, a hint of bitterness and spice making its way in between.

It reminded Harry of the times Remus Lupin had slipped pieces and bits of chocolate into his hands for all of his third year, between classes and recesses and times when Harry stared a little too hard off into the sky with words stuck on his throat.

Oddly enough, the House Elves had taken it upon themselves to leave handmade (homemade) chocolate carefully wrapped in paper in between the lapels of his robes, in his pockets, in his trunk. He often found the pieces when he least expected it, and when he most needed them. Like at the Dursleys during the long summer months, or when he went on walks along the forest and found his hands reaching for his pockets, or more often enough: when he was sad and in need of a pick me up.

(Fifth year had him eating chocolate every day, enough to make him sick more than once. Madam Pomfrey had huffed and puffed at him for such an unbalanced diet).

(Luna, oddly enough, seemed to be the only one to notice, the only one to not shy away from his anger or look away at the depth of his sadness. Somewhere in December that year she had slipped a potion to the House Elves to mix with the chocolate so it wouldn't upset his stomach).

(He doesn't think he deserved the kindness, but Luna had only smiled at him as they sat between the herd of Thestrals and ate their chocolate).

They kissed for a long stretch of time, the river and the stars their only witness.

Harry had the question at the tip of his tongue.

Tom bit down on his neck with hunger, leaving bruises and kisses on his wake.

At some point his hands wandered even lower, and two big hands grabbed onto the back of his thighs prompting him to let himself be lifted or fall backwards.

Tom grunted against his mouth at the added weight, but stood sure and still as Harry wrapped his legs around his middle. The hands on the back of his thighs hugged him beneath his bottom and let Harry sit a little higher.

He sighed against Tom's mouth, leaning back a bit and trusting his hands to hold him up.

Tom's eyes were two black holes as they looked up at him. His gaze was half lidded, hungry and wanting. His magic seemed to simmer beneath the surface of his skin, calling out to his own magic and awaking it in a way nothing had before.

He desperately wanted to ask. He wanted to drag Tom home and never let him leave.

An explosion at their back startled them enough for Tom to take a hurried step back, turning them about so whatever had caused the ruckus would hit Tom head first.

Harry was deposited back on the ground before the wave of magic could reach them. Both of their wands dropped on their hands.

A fire started somewhere deep in the Manor and climbed up with a hunger that said it could only be of magical origins.

The shape of a Phoenix eating smaller birds could be seen through the flames.

Someone had cast a fiendfyre inside a small space crowded with the most influential people currently in power in Britain.

It was an act of War.

They waited for half a heartbeat.

Then they ran towards the fire.

(OR) the horror and the wild on AO3, 21k words, two shot, completed

The first part of this Au that I went out with so funny thank you for answering it I hope you were able to rest and stuff but anywho

I feel like after those first two parts I feel like RedRobin and Batman have questions about the Ghost King and Vlad relationship like they're asking questions

And the Klarions / Phantom children and the kids keep just dropping he with to college with our mom's parents, he would take kidnap mom and locked him in a basement, he's legally mom's godfather, he tried to marry grandmother on multiple occasions

I just feel like Dan anytime he gets the moment gets mad at him and goes like until you pay the 8.5 million you owe mom in child support is the day that you can call me your son ectoplasm donor.

Also I would find it so funny if outside of their Klarion thing they live with Vlad time from time again when Danny is overwhelmed or need someone to watch over them and the the rest of the people he's friends with in the Infinite Realms can't do it and are friends with the Wayne children

I feel like Duke will be having a heart attack when you realizes that he goes the same high school class as Dan or that Ellie and Dick best friends back when they were children for funsies

Also the reveal of Teekls has never been a cat it's going to get on doctor fate's nerves cuz he knows damn well that things never been a cat also I feel like all of them have the power to rip Dr Fate out of whoever he's possessing body and always he's pulling that power on him anytime they get the chance

Also a review of the fact that Teekl has never been a cat until when like Batman or Red Robin pov

Have I ever mentioned I love your ideas and how fun they are? Cause damn this had me laughing while reading it already.

Also glad the first two parts were still fun despite the mishaps that happed while writing :D

Also I skipped over the Teekl Part for the moment since I didn't know how to tie it in at the moment...

Sooooo anyway.... here we go again~ (sorry if its a bit short...)

Part 1 Part 2

------------------------

Red Robin was intrigued, worried and on several levels suspicious as he watched the interaction between the ones that had been Klarion, the current Klarion and Vlad Masters. He had also a lot of questions, he really wanted answers to but for now he held back.... partially. Vlad Masters was a contact Batman had brought in when the situation with the Demon became more dangerous than they originally expected.

John Constantine had mentioned they would need a even stronger force to really drive that Demon back and off handedly mentioned that something like an Ancient or a Ghost King would be needed. And wouldn't you know, Batman knew someone that claimed to have contacts with a Ghost King or rather THE Ghost King. And as luck would have it, Vlad Masters was in Gotham because of one of his relentless attempts at striking a business deal with Bruce Wayne. (That really had been an unexpected luck but by now Red Robin was also suspecting something else was at play.... [Like a bored Ancient of Time])

Well either way now he was watching, just a step behind his mentor, how Batman was grilling Vlad Masters on his relations to the Ghost King, since apparently they (the hero's assembled) wouldn't need to do anything anyway since the Ghost King was handling the demon threat. Red Robin did realise that not all heroes present were convinced but what else could they do but wait right now? Since according to Klarion their Mom aka the Ghost King was already dealing with the situation.

So with that happening, the well known bat-paranoia, curiosity, suspicion and need to know every good damn detail of a situation arose full force. Not that Red Robin minded, as mentioned before, he had a lot of questions too. Plus he wasn't so sure if the other Heroes had caught it but there were some disturbing things Klarion and is siblings sort of dropped that really needed clearing up.

While Batman was grilling Vlad Masters, Red Robin listened in but then decided to his own sort of questioning with Klarion, the current one.

"So... you called Vlad Masters 'old man'? And your suit is in the 'old man's style'?" the question was asked directly to the current Klarion. Since they were apparently here just to watch Red robin was sure he could just try having a sort of civil talk with his questions.

Klarion on the other hand grumbled crossing his arms, before uncrossing them again to pet the demon cat on his shoulder. "I just went with his dumb vampire look but more fancy and classic and less insane colouring."

The arched eyebrow stayed sort of hidden under his mask but it was there and Red Robin knows that tone Klarion used. It's the same Red Hood has when he begrudgingly admit do doing something the way Batman would. Which raises the a question he already had on his mind, how he could interpret Klarions use of 'old man'. Which would give Batman even more incentive to question Vlad Masters on his relation to the Ghost King. Also for now he was going to ignore the 'dumb vampire look' part, but he did note it down in his mind for later.

"Vlad Masters is your 'old man'?" There probably was a way to ask a little more subtle or nice but they were waiting for the Ghost King to beat up a Demon and he was making small talk with subtitle questioning with Klarion. So sue him for being blunt after all. Also the face Klarion was making right after he said.

"Well Far Frozen gets a hot summer." Was the instant reply and Red Robin blinked unter his mask. There probably was some information he was missing behind that reply.

"Ew no! He wishes though. But Vlad is like double or triple our Mom's age! He even went to collage with Grandpa Jack and Grandma Maddie!" Misrule suddenly interjected apparently done pestering Nightwing as she leaned over Klarion, resting her head on his and causing Teekl to hiss at her. Well that certainly got his attention now and with the way he saw, form the corner of his eyes, Batmans head wipe their way and then back at Vlad Masters it certainly also got his mentors.

"He wishes...? Triple your Moms.... age? The Ghost King?" His mental information board was getting more and more chaotic with the information he was getting.

"He acts like we are his kids and has a right to be called Dad by us." Misrule shrugged dismissively to which Klarion growled, he growled! Red Robin was tempted to check his ears because this was the first time he heard Klarion growl towards his sister.

"The day I call your DNA and my ecto donor anything with the context of father is the day he pays Mom the millions of child support he owns him and additional pays for emotional and physical distress." Okay, Red Robin was not ashamed to say he did a double take at Klarions growl and the fact that several alarm bells went off hin his mind with that one sentence alone.

"Mom has his own castle and riches from the previous King. Not like we would actually need that money. Plus Vlad does pay for your school tuition." Misrule answered her brother, complete ignoring the fact that Red Robin was having a mental crisis and thinking that Vlad Masters might even be an even greater threat, then just a weird and suspicious potential business partner and that the reason he has a summoning stone for the Ghost King might be a custody thing regarding Klarion and his siblings.

So with all these things what did Red Robins brain decide to focus on? "Vlad Masters pays your school tuition? No wait you go to school?"

There was an awkward moment Red Robin received two very similar looking deadpan stares from Klarion and Misrule, the first Klarion.

"Of course I go to fucking school Mom would kill... well no thermos ground me if I didn't." Another drop of information Red Robin didn't know how to handle, what the hell does 'thermos ground' even mean? Was that like their version of grounding?

"Oh isn't today like a school night?" Misrule suddenly piped up pinching her brothers check and Red Robin felt weirdly reminded of some of the interactions he used to have with his siblings. It was strange to see Klarion like that.

"Shit... I forgot to do my part of my group project with Duke..." Klarion grumbled and Red Robin did a double take once more, blinking several times as there was a very very important information drop here, his head snapped towards Nightwing in hopes that the other had also caught it and thankfully, he had and while Signal wasn't present at the moment because he had done day patrols already and had been barely awake anyway when this whole Demon mess started.... they had gotten a hint of figuring out Klarions identity, they were certainly going to use later.

For now they had some more red flags to investigate in regards to the relation of Vlad Masters, the Ghost King, Klarion and Klarion's siblings.

---------------

Little Bonus (Next day after Demon Crisis):

"Hey Duke, who are you working with in a group project?"

"Huh oh that is Dante Masters-Nightingale."

"Masters-Nightingale? As in Vlad MASTERS?"

"Yeah, that what he said his temporary guardian's name is that pays for his schooling."

"Wait didn't I go with Danielle Nightingale-MASTERS to school too? We were like besties in school!"

"Oh god...."

"Tim, you okay you look very pale. Are you okay? Dick too..."

"BRUCE! VLAD MASTERS NEEDS TO BE PUT ON THE RED WATCH LIST AND WE NEED TO TALK WITH THE GHOST KING ASAP!"

Dead Tired x Yandere Au

Tim had always been a bit of a stalker, but it was just how he showed his love.He just wanted to know everything about the ones he loves, he just wanted to give the ones he loves everything he could and destroy all threats to his.

It wasn’t normal though. He knew it wasn’t, so he kept his brand of love hidden, buried under wraps. He was lucky that Bruce was paranoid enough that he could get away with trackers on their helmets and checking their computers for their words, but it wasn’t enough, not really. He wanted to give his people everything, but they wouldn’t let him.

Danny Fenton was a Fenton through and through. His family loved fiercely, leaving destruction in their wake. Danny was a Fenton, but he was also a protector ghost. He needed his people to be safe, and as long as they were in Amity, he could locate them at all times. He had to protect his people.

Jazz wasn’t the same, not as fierce in love but understood. She let him do what he needed, but the others….. He tried so hard not to be too invasive. Tucker and Sam seemed to notice it, but they didn’t say much, though Sam made it clear her search history was her own.

(Dani was harder, but he was allowed a tracker on her phone and calls daily. He had to content himself with the fact she would call if she needed him.)

The new kid in class, with heavy bags under his eyes and a tired smile, became his slowly. Danny watched and listened to Tim , who seemed so surprised he listened to him, and if that made Danny extra vicious for a while, imagining he was ripping apart those that made his so insecure, that was his business.

Tim was supposed to infiltrate Amity Park as a student to assess the situation. He wasn’t expecting to find his newest obsession, or for Danny to change from just being his to being his.