Chapter Text
KAIJU: (怪獣, kaijū, Japanese) Giant Beast.
JAEGER: (yā'gər, German) Hunter.
The first kaiju attacked in 2008, a decade after the Battle of Hogwarts. No one knew what to make of it.
It emerged from the breach, a tear in the middle of the Atlantic, hundreds of metres tall, weighing over a hundred stone, scaly— a lurid blue. It wiped out all of Charleston, South Carolina in a few hours.
The world mourned.
After six months, everyone— Muggle and wix— relaxed. Cautiously. On the one-year anniversary, the whole world celebrated; everything went back to normal.
Two weeks later, the second kaiju attacked Lisbon, killing thousands and decimating the city.
Then the third attack happened in New York City, a year and two days after Lisbon. It became apparent the creatures weren’t going to go away.
The kaiju weren’t magical; the wixen world was in agreement. Magizoologists had been consulted by the world leaders who were aware the magical world existed. They’d even brought Hagrid to observe the creatures. He’d seen creatures that, to most, were only rumours. He didn’t know what to make of the kaiju. The Muggles had no idea; the top scientists said the chemical makeup of the monsters was not native to the natural world. Finally, the Muggle scientists came to a consensus: the kaiju were from a different universe. The wixen world agreed, in their own circles. There was no talk of trying to help the Muggles, the fear of being discovered was still too high.
Muggles and wix alike fled the Atlantic coastline in fear. Cities were abandoned, buildings left empty. The well-to-do moved to Eastern Europe, Australia, New Zealand. They pushed out the poor, forcing them to the coast where the cost of living was cheap. Capitals changed, moved inland. The Ministry for Magic shielded themselves more strongly than Hogwarts ever was. Those still in the UK were left to fend for themselves.
The world settled into a new normal: apprehensive about the next attack, but willing to try and work together to defeat the monsters.
And the Ministry of Magic stayed hidden.
— —
“I’m just saying it’s not right, Hermione!” Harry shouted. “People are dying and we have our heads in the fucking sand because the Minister for Magic is scared Muggles will be more afraid of us than of the monsters coming out of the ocean.”
“And I’m agreeing with you!” Hermione shouted back.
Harry looked down at the floor, sheepish. “Sorry,” he muttered.
She walked to Harry, wrapped her arms around him, let him rest his head on her shoulder.
“I was there, too,” she said quietly. “I fought with you. I think it’s bullshit and the Minister needs to pull his head out of his arse.”
“What can we do?”
Harry felt Hermione sigh. “Nothing sanctioned by the Ministry. But I’ve heard rumours of a branch in America, at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, that’s studying the remains.”
Harry looked up at her.
“You’d have to keep your magic under wraps,” she warned, “but you’ve got enough knowledge of magical and mundane creatures, you would be a great asset.” Hermione reached into her bag, pulling out a manilla envelope. “I might've gotten together some paperwork so you have the proper Muggle credentials.”
“Might've,” Harry said with a smile.
“Well,” Hermione said, smiling back. “I do know you quite well. I didn’t foresee you sitting idly by while the world was under attack.”
Harry pulled her into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for everything you’ve done.”
“Oh hush,” Hermione said, shaking slightly. Harry felt a tear drop on his neck. “Go be a godsdamned hero.”
— —
Ten Years Later
“What?” Harry shouted. “I can’t hear you!” He pointed at his earbud.
Draco frowned. “I said no kaiju entrails on my side of the lab.”
Harry pointed back at his ear. “Can’t understand a word, mate.”
“They’re not even on,” Draco growled. “You think I can’t hear the fucking racket that you listen to on a daily basis? Like I can’t clearly see that your mobile—”
Harry Summoned his mobile then, looking Draco directly in the eyes, turned his music on. ‘Raspberry Beret’ started playing.
“Music,” he mouthed.
Draco’s face turned an excellent shade of mauve. Harry winked at him, then went back to his dissection. It was part of a liver from the most recent kaiju kill and still in good shape.
In the ten years since he'd joined the Pan Atlantic Defense Corps, the frequency of kaiju attacks had grown exponentially. At first, he'd had to fight for any piece of the kaiju to examine. There had been dozens of top scientists, and a few wix, who were studying the kaiju— trying to figure out their weaknesses, how they could be more easily destroyed.
They had learned, quickly, that kaiju remains decayed rapidly, so samples had been few and far between. Then person after person left the PADC, either because they were phased out or they got a better offer in the public sector. Usually with the added bonus of moving away from the Atlantic Ocean.
Now Harry was one of the few remaining xenobiologists in the world and the only one still employed in the K-Science division of the PADC.
Less personnel meant the powers that be thought the budget could be slashed again and again. Harry had barely enough money for gloves made to withstand the corrosive insides of the kaiju, much less run a whole lab. Draco was the last person not working on the hardware side of the Jaeger Tech division, so they'd gotten thrown together. Draco had almost hexed some poor sod when he'd mentioned they should be fine since they both 'did science shit'.
Harry had been offered other jobs, of course. He was top in his field, both in the Muggle and wixen worlds alike. But between the excitement of learning about something completely novel and his burning drive to do good, he was loyal to Marshal Stacker Pentecost and the last few people still working on the Jaegers— the massive mechanical monsters that had been constructed to fight the monsters from another world.
Pentecost was British and it made Harry feel a little more at home to hear a voice without a foreign accent. He was tall and broad, with a high and tight haircut that spoke to his military background. He was Black and fit and Harry had fancied the pants off him until he'd gotten his first bollocking. He still thought Pentecost was gorgeous, but he appreciated that he was Harry's superior officer at the PADC and Harry only occasionally wanked to the memory of Pentecost in his formal military uniform.
Harry glanced up at Draco. He'd turned back to his enormous chalkboard and was muttering and scribbling lines of runes. Technically speaking, Draco was writing numbers, but he'd woven a slippery spell that turned them into runes. They were only visible to Harry and Draco, and Harry was just a little smug at having been read in.
Ostensibly it was so Harry could relay Draco's work to Hermione in case of a disaster, but really Harry thought Draco had wanted to show off his magic.
The first time Harry had seen it work, he'd crowded Draco against the wall and rimmed him until Draco had been gasping for breath, sweat dripping down his temples.
Harry looked down at the liver sample before he spiralled thinking about Draco's arse. Or got an inappropriate boner. Again.
He gently cut into a small lobe, one of the thousands of lobules. In humans, the small lobes were invisible to the human eye, but with the size and scope of the kaiju, Harry was able to see each one clearly.
"That smells disgusting," Draco said.
"Raspberry beret!" Harry sang obnoxiously. "I think I love herrrrrrrr."
"You're such a prat!" Draco yelled back.
"Didn't stop you from scream—"
Suddenly the music in Harry's ear stopped.
"If you finish that, you'll never see me naked again," Draco said icily.
Harry shut his mouth with a click.
"Fine," he grumbled after the moment stretched into uncomfortable territory.
Draco started scribbling and mumbling again. "In two weeks," he muttered. "I need to tell Pentecost."
He grabbed his cane and started to rush out the door.
"Can I turn my music back on, or did you break my mobile?" Harry asked his retreating back.
"It's fine, stop whinging."
'Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go' started playing and Harry went back to his liver.
— —
Harry and Draco had started fucking approximately two years, seven months, and a handful of days ago. Not that Harry was keeping count.
They'd been stationed at different Shatterdomes— the ridiculous name the Muggles had given the places that housed the Jaegers, the Rangers who piloted the metal monsters, support staff, and scientists for the PADC— for years before they found themselves at the same one. It was in Boston, where Harry had started, that everything was ending.
At first, it was a way to let off steam. They'd been stationed in Boston for six months the first time they'd hooked up.
Pulling during the apocalypse was hard enough, but between being surrounded by Muggles and civilians, it was hard to connect. Then Draco started chatting with Harry during quiet times in their lab. They'd talked about their work with the PADC and Draco had been proud, in his sly way, about explaining his work to someone who understood magic.
Leadership knew, of course. Marshal Pentecost and all of the department heads knew about the magic used in the Jaeger Tech. They also knew Harry had been hired partially because of his work with magical creatures. Like the various leaders of Muggle governments, they were all sworn to adhere to the Statute of Secrecy.
The Jaegers had been built, originally, for one person to pilot. The muggles had created a way for the pilot to link their brain to the machine and move the robot's limbs in tandem with their own. Then after two exploratory trips out into the Atlantic, it had been obvious that the link was too strong for only one person. No one had known how to link two minds until Draco, with his advanced knowledge of legilimency, devised a way for humans to link their minds, wix and Muggle alike. They called it the drift.
Harry had heard rumours about a genius who had figured out how to link two brains, but when he'd learned it was Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and recluse, he'd had to sit down. When they started working together, sparks— both figuratively and literally— had flown.
For Harry, the attraction had been there since Hogwarts. He'd hated Draco, but could admit he'd also thought he was fit. Then after seeing him break down when the first pair of Jaeger pilots had been killed in 2015, Harry realised how fragile Draco actually was.
After that, it was like a dam had broken. Harry started noticing the heated looks Draco thought he was hiding and Harry began looking back.
Sex had improved their working relationship a bit, but the moments after they'd both come, when their guards were down and their bodies were tired, they'd started to talk even more.
First an apology from Draco, then one from Harry.
Draco insisted an apology wasn't necessary, but Harry had seen the scars he'd left—curse scars from waist to clavicle. He told Draco he couldn't expect forgiveness from Draco when Harry also needed forgiveness from Draco. They still fought in the lab; how could they not, they were Potter and Malfoy. But alone, in the quiet, they were Harry and Draco.
Harry knew his feelings, small and delicate and unbelievably fond, were not reciprocated, but he'd take what was offered for as long as he was able.
He'd never brought up Draco's disability. For all that they freely shared each other's bodies, Harry thought it was only right Draco decided if and when he wanted to talk about the infrequent tremors and his need for a mobility device.
There were some things that were too intimate for two people who were just fucking.
— —
"We can't keep going on like this," Harry whispered into Draco's back the evening after Draco shared his two week timeline with Pentecost.
"I don't really think we have a choice, Potter." Draco moved, his shoulder blades shifting restlessly under sweat and skin. "The kaiju are going to keep attacking, and with a shorter interlude between attacks."
Harry kissed his right shoulder with a sigh. "And with most of our funding going to the fucking wall—"
"I feel too good to be angry about the wall," Draco mumbled.
"Me too," Harry whispered back. But he felt a moment of white-hot anger at the powers that be who decided to funnel all of their money into building a wall along the coast instead of upgrading the Jaegers and providing more training for the pilots.
They were currently on month three of their six months of additional funding before their whole program was to be shut down.
"Marshal Pentecost said he had a plan when we met earlier," Draco said. "And I trust him much more than I trust anyone."
"Even me?" Harry teased, sitting up and looking for his pants. He'd learned through trial and error that Draco would tolerate up to ten minutes of post-coital cuddling before he started to get shifty. Harry estimated they were around minute eight.
"Always trusted you," Draco said sleepily. "Even when I hated you, I trusted you."
"Don't go soppy on me," Harry said, finally locating his pants. He Summoned them and slid them up his legs. "Wouldn't do to inflate my ego, right?"
Draco laughed and turned over, eyes closed. "No, it wouldn't do."
Harry found the rest of his clothes and got dressed, watching Draco.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, walking to the door.
"As always." Draco yawned, and Harry felt a surge of tenderness in his heart.
"I need to sleep, Potter," Draco said, smirking. "Go to your own room so I may do that."
With a quiet laugh, Harry left and walked to his room.
Their rooms were identical, everyone stationed at the Boston Shatterdome had an identical dormitory type room. Concrete brick walls, metal framed beds, a too thin mattress— Harry was so happy he could add cushioning charms, the first night was absolute murder on his back— and the skeleton of a wardrobe were standard issue. Draco had his own shower; with his disability, standing in a communal shower, slick floors, and no hand holds was not feasible.
But they'd both decorated their rooms to the best of their abilities. Harry had gotten some photos of him, Hermione, and Ron, and even more of his godchildren— Teddy Lupin, and little Rosie Weasley. He'd paid someone to charm them to stay still unless Harry was alone in his room.
Draco's room held a few photos of his mother and more books than Harry wanted to count.
It made the bleakness a bit more bearable.
Harry, tired from his day in the lab and his excellent orgasm, shucked his clothes off, headless of where they landed, and collapsed on to his bed. He was asleep within a minute.
— —
The next day, Raleigh Becket came to the Shatterdome.
Harry had assumed he'd died in 2015 when the kaiju took out his Jaeger. He and his brother, Yancy, had been the first Jaeger pilot fatalities since the kaiju had appeared in 2008.
"What do you know about the new recruit?" Harry asked Draco. They'd met earlier that day in an elevator. Raleigh, Marshal Pentacost, and his adopted daughter Mako Mori, riding with Harry and Draco and a large piece of a kaiju brain. Pentecost had apparently been very busy in the previous twenty-four hours, what with getting a new specimen for Harry, and a new pilot for the program.
"Not new," Draco said from his place at his chalkboard.
"You know what I mean."
Harry went back to typing his initial observations about the slice of brain Pentecost had brought him.
"He and his brother were cocky, undeniably American, and cared more than anyone else in the program." Draco trailed off, making Harry look up. "You would have gotten along tremendously." He smiled, small and tight. "Yancy, especially."
"And now Raleigh is back to do what?" Harry asked. "Who's Jaeger is he going to pilot?"
"Pentecost took the remains of their old one, the Danger, and had the techs upgrade it. He's spent the last sixteen months scouting for parts and updating the software. Mako has been searching for candidates for his co-pilot."
"How did I not know anything about this?" Harry said, starting to get angry. "And how do you know?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "We were both briefed on it, but you were buried in a spleen and refused to take your earbuds out."
"Things do tend to get away from me when I'm working," Harry said, sheepish.
"I'd not noticed." Draco's voice was dry, but he was smirking so Harry reckoned he'd not fucked things up too much. "Besides, it had more to do with my predictions than xenobiology so when the Marshal noticed you weren't paying attention, he wasn't bothered."
Harry was about to respond when the Shatterdome wide warning klaxon started.
"What's happened?" Draco shouted over the noise.
"I've been here the whole time!" Harry yelled back. "How the fuck would I know?"
Draco nodded and made a shooing noise. "Fine," he said. "But go find out."
Rolling his eyes, Harry got up from his desk and made his way to the control room.
It was a flurry of activity.
"That wall has no more than three minutes against—" Tendo Choi, the chief J-Tech shouted. Harry couldn't make it the rest of what he was saying because he was too busy watching the destruction on the main screen.
His mouth dropped as he watched the newest kaiju, a category three by his estimate, tear through the Atlantic coastal wall like it was a piece of parchment.
Marshal Pentecost frowned. "Activate Striker Eureka!" he bellowed over the noise and confusion. "They're the closest!"
Harry ran back to Draco, the blaring alarm quiet against the whirling thoughts in his head.
"Kaiju attack in Portugal!" he said when he was back in the lab. "Pentecost sent the Hansens." They were a father/son team from Australia. Harry had a lot of respect for Herc, the father, and little patience with Chuck, his son. Draco had even less patience with him.
Draco's lips formed a thin line. "It's as I expected."
"You said!" Harry said, pointing at his chalkboard. "You said two weeks!"
"Not for the next attack," Draco said.
The emergency klaxon stopped and Harry's ears still rang in the silence.
"Then for what?" Harry cried.
"For Marshal Pentecost's plan."
Harry threw his hands up. "What plan?"
"A plan to close the breach."
— —
After dinner in the canteen, Pentecost made his way back to the lab.
"Mr Malfoy, what do you have for me?"
Draco sat up straight, the line of his shoulders proud as he enjoyed the attention of their superior officer.
"The next opening close to Boston, and fitting your specific criteria, is in ten days," he said. "Dr Gottlieb's predictions on how to locate the breach between the two universes have always been correct so I don't anticipate them failing now."
Harry thought about Dr Gottlieb, the German-English mathematician who had held Draco's position until his health problems were too severe to carry on. His partner, Dr Geiszler, had also quit the PADC, to care for Dr Gottlieb. Harry had worked with them for several years in Brasil.
"Hermann knew what he was talking about," Harry said with a nod. "If he said it's going to open close by, it's going to open close by."
"Thank you, Mr Potter," Pentecost said, "but I was aware of that."
Harry felt his face flush a little. He wasn't trying to mouth off, only trying to support Draco, but he still felt wrong-footed in front of his superior.
Draco made his way to his holo-board. It was a mixture of magic and muggle technology. He turned it on and a 3D model of the predicted rift appeared.
"If we time it correctly," Draco said, "we can drop the payload into the rift, closing it forever."
Harry watched in awe as a small sphere made its way down the throat of the breach, then exploded.
"Thank you, Mr Malfoy," Pentecost said. "Once Ranger Hansen and Chuck get back with Striker Eureka, we'll plan our attack in more detail."
"Oh, who did Ranger Becket pair with?" Draco asked.
"Mako," Pentecost said with an almost angry look on his face. "They're to co-pilot the Danger."
Harry looked over to Malfoy. He was staring at Pentecost.
"They'll make a strong team," Draco said just as Harry was getting anxious in the silence. "Mako's intellect will balance Raleigh's impulsiveness, but his experience will come in handy when they're in a difficult situation."
Pentecost sighed. "You're right, Mr Malfoy." He didn't say "I still don't like it," but Harry could tell Draco understood what wasn't said as much as Harry had.
— —
The next week was spent examining the kaiju brain. There was still a trace amount of electricity in the brain, indicating it was still, unbelievably, alive in the barest sense. Harry started to form a plan. It was, admittedly, a foolish plan. But it wasn't as foolish as facing an evil megalomaniac in a forest at age seventeen, and that'd turned out OK.
He also spent the week bickering with Draco. They had always been a bit at odds in their lab, too much stress and too small a space had led to screaming matches. Usually they had time to fall into bed together, which helped soothe the wounds they inevitably made. But Draco had seemed distant, his work taking up his time, from before the sun rose, to well after it set.
"I think I can drift with the kaiju brain," Harry said one day.
Draco was grey in the industrial lights, his hair greasy as Snape's ever was, a fine tremor in his hands.
"Don't be stupid, Potter."
He didn't even turn around to look at Harry.
And Harry had only said it to get a rise out of Draco, but thinking more about it, he realised drifting with the brain, trying to see into its thoughts, might help close the breach.
Even with Pentecost's plan to close the rift, trying to learn the motivation behind a kaiju attack couldn't hurt.
"Malfoy," Harry started. "I'll need your help. You're better at engineering than me. What can I use—"
"You're not really thinking about drifting with a brain from a being from another universe, are you?"
Finally, finally Draco turned around. The look of astonishment on his face made Harry smile.
"If I—"
"You are NOT to do that!" Draco screamed.
"I can try!" Harry shouted back. "If it helps!"
"And if it doesn't and you die?!"
"Wouldn't be the first time," Harry muttered.
"I'm not discussing this with you," Draco said. He turned, sharply, to his chalkboard. Harry watched as he briefly lost his balance. "You are not to try and drift with a kaiju brain, Potter."
Harry stuck his tongue out at Draco. "You're not the boss of me."
"Very mature, Potter."
"You're not!" Harry shouted back. "Just because we're fucking doesn't mean you can tell me what to do!"
"Merlin forbid, I try and look out for your safety." Draco turned, an ugly sneer on his face. "I'll endeavour not to do that in the future."
"I never asked that of you."
"You're making that more and more apparent." Draco turned once more to his chalkboard. "Perhaps we should call off our arrangement. It was fun, but it seems like it's making things worse."
"Sure," Harry said, voice rough. “If that's what you want."
"I can't—" Draco said, muffled. "If you're going to—"
"I'll ask Pentecost, tomorrow," Harry replied. He grabbed his earbuds and jammed them in his ears. ‘Friday I'm in Love’ started playing.
Draco said something, but Harry ignored it. He went back to his notes on the brain, blinking back his frustrated tears.
As Robert Smith sang about falling in love on Fridays, Harry thought about how he'd fallen in love on a grey Tuesday, a blue Monday, a too-late Sunday. Now it was Friday and he'd never been more certain that Draco didn't return his affection. In fact, he was sure Draco was only a few steps removed from his hatred during their early Hogwarts years.
He must have only fallen into bed with Harry because he was convenient and they didn't have to hide their magic from each other.
Later that evening, Draco brought Harry a biscuit, a hobnob, something that definitely hadn't come from the canteen. Harry took it for the apology it was, but his heart was still stinging from their fight and he left the biscuit where Draco had placed it.
Alone in his bed, well past a decent hour to fall asleep, all Harry could picture was the anger on Draco's face when he'd brought up drifting with the kaiju. He wasn't sure why Draco had been so explosively against the idea, but the more Harry thought about it, the more he was sure it would work.
— —
Draco didn't look at Harry the next day. The following day, Harry tried his best not to look at Draco, but his eyes, used to following Draco's movements, kept returning to his slim form.
— —
The evening before Pentecost's plan to close the drift was to be implemented, Harry had cobbled together a machine to drift with the kaiju brain.
Draco, Harry wrote on a spare piece of paper. No matter what you may think, my plan to drift with a kaiju is sound. I'm only writing this as a way to document my success. After I'm done, I'm going to rub it in your stupid, pointy face and sing "I told you so" for hours. I've already started on the tune, it's catchy as fuck, and you'll go to your grave knowing I was right and you were wrong.
If I'm right, you'll never see this letter, but I'll still sing to you and annoy you until your face turns red and you make that face where you think you look authoritative, but really you just look constipated.
Harry paused. Glanced at the piece of brain floating in its container. Then went back to writing.
If I'm wrong, then I'll be dead and it won't matter.
He took a deep breath, wiped an errant tear away.
Working with you has been better than I possibly could have imagined. I never thought the prat who went to Hogwarts with me would grow up to be such a smart, funny, annoying arsehole, but apparently you did. It was more than just sex to me, Draco. It always was.
I'm sorry for all the times I called you a tosser, obviously you're more refined. A wanker, clearly.
Throughout it all, it was good working with you, instead of against you. If I'm gone, I want you to know that I love you. I've loved you since
Harry stopped writing, unable to finish. How could he tell Draco about all the times he'd fallen in love. About the first time Draco had smiled, a real, true smile, and Harry's heart had skipped a beat. How he'd watched Draco in their lab, muttering to himself, working late nights to try and save the world. About the selflessness he'd seen in Draco, about how much he'd changed since they were teenagers.
How could he tell Draco the smallest things: the way he wore a too tatty cardigan; the way he drank his tea; the way he looked lost when Pentecost told them both of civilian casualties; the way he'd let Harry hold him when he cried at the loss of life, wix and Muggle alike; the way he made Harry laugh later with his sharp wit; the way he looked after he'd come, all soft and smiling; had all come together to make Harry realise he'd fallen in love.
He crossed out the last fragment. Added, I've loved you longer than you could imagine. And I'm sorry I was never brave enough to tell you.
I've always had the reputation of being fearless, but I know you know that's wrong. You know me as well as Ron and Hermione, you know how afraid I am.
And I'm sorry for my cowardice of only telling you this if I'm gone. But I can't bring myself to tell you in person, not after you made it clear how little you feel for me.
There was a loud sound outside the lab. Harry didn't want Draco to stumble in to stop him, so he finished up his letter.
Either way, if I'm right then I get to tell you I told you so, and if I'm wrong, you get this letter and know how I feel about you.
Thank you for everything, Draco. Thank you for being the man you are. Thank you for keeping me on task. Thank you for all the sex, it was spectacular. Most of all, thank you for not taking my shit and for your apologies and for accepting mine. Thank you and I hope you never see this letter.
Harry signed his name quickly, folded the letter and scratched out Draco's name on the outside. He jammed it in his pocket for someone to find it if he didn't make it through the drift.
Then he picked up the makeshift probe he'd constructed and plugged it into the tank with the kaiju brain.
— —
Flashes of Harry's life came and went. The cupboard under the stairs, talking to a snake, the letters from Hogwarts filling the Dursley's lounge, being chosen by his wand, meeting the Weasleys, meeting Hermione. Then stronger memories, being sure of his own death at the hands of Professor Quirrell, of being sure of losing to the giant Basilisk, to watching as Dementors surrounded him and the prone body of Sirius. He watched as he was lashed to a grave with the eerie spectacle of Voldemort rising from the dead, watched as the Hall of Prophecies exploded around him.
Finally, he watched as he walked, alone but for the spectres of his loved ones, to his death.
Then he was hit by the thoughts and memories of the kaiju. They were harder to understand, blinding blue lights, a feeling of something, someone making him, creating him, giving him the urge to kill, to destroy, to devour.
He was pulled out of the drift as Draco stood over him.
"Harry, what have you done?" he asked in horror.
Harry reached up to wipe his nose, it was running. He looked down and realised it was blood.
"Told you it would work," Harry slurred before he passed out.
— —
When Harry came to, Pentecost and Draco were examining him.
"You stupid fucking berk," Draco said, waving his wand. Harry immediately felt better; Draco's healing spells were far superior to Harry's.
"What did you learn?" Pentecost asked.
"There's something else out there," Harry said. "Something making… something controlling the kaiju."
"And how exactly did you manage to drift with it?" Pentecost questioned. "As commanding officer of this Shatterdome, hell the entire PADC, how exactly is it that I was not aware anyone was going to drift with a kaiju?" His voice got louder and louder as his question went on.
"Surprise?" Harry said weakly.
"He went off on his own," Draco interjected. "I told him it was a bad idea."
"I believe your exact words were 'it's not going to work'," Harry retorted. "No need to be a tattletale, especially since you were wrong!"
"I'm not being a tattletale," Draco started. "If you weren't so damned stubborn!"
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it when Pentecost roared, "Enough!"
There was silence for three seconds, Harry counted, then Pentecost said, "I need you to do it again."
Harry looked at the kaiju sample. It had turned grey in the enclosure.
"I think it's proper dead," he said.
"And it's too dangerous!" Draco added.
Pentecost glared at Draco, before turning his gaze upon Harry. "If I knew of a place to get kaiju parts, would you be able to drift again?"
"If?!" Draco shouted.
"I might be able to replicate my success," Harry said. "If you knew of a place."
Pentecost nodded, ignoring Draco whose face was getting redder and redder. Harry thought he was going to stomp his foot if he was ignored much longer. He sent Draco an apologetic look, then asked Pentecost, "What do I need to do?"