Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Titanium	By : CharlieJayne Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male Views: 8493 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter, only the few OC characters I add at will. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Titanium

Author's notes: Hi guys! This is my first Harry Potter/ Lord of the Rings story ever, or really my first Cross over in general so I apologize if anything isn't to your liking. This is a slash story, so there will be a few homosexual relationships that partake in this story. Hopefully you all like it! This is an alternate universe story, so not everything will like completely with the books or movies of either story. We're picking up at the end of the war, and moving from there.. –CJG

Summary: The war is over, and now all that's left is a dying world. The war spread much further than Hogwarts through those years, eating away at anything and everything it could grab. They had lost everything, did they even win?

Warning: Homosexual relationships, dark themes, violence, language, and angst.

Disclaimer: I'm only posting this disclaimer once; I do not own any of the recognizable characters or plot lines found in this fan fiction.

Prologue:

His head lifted slowly, eyes closed tight at the pounding in his head. He had died, for the oddest amount of times in his seemingly short life he had died yet again. Death, you could smell the potent scent of death; the burning flesh caused by curses, the harsh gut twisting scent of the beginnings of decay. No one knew how long either side was asleep, how long they had hidden themselves into their minds to protect themselves from the unknown. The very few that woke could hardly remember their own names. Who was Harry? Was that is name? Yes he remembered now, Harry was his name, at least that was what that damned voice practically screaming in his ear called. Even if it wasn't he'd still think it was.

Shut up…

Why wouldn't the voice just shut up! He could feel anger rising, his eyes not opening still; he could hardly stomach the scent. He was wise enough to figure he wouldn't be able to handle the sight of such carnage. He hadn't seen it, but he just knew it was there. That incessant voice continued to call his name; it was smooth, but rough with emotions. Who was it? Sirius, it had to be his godfather there was only two people that spoke to him in that tone, which referred to him as "cub".

He was so warm here, lying in a puddle of what he assumed to be his own blood, and the blood of others. When he finally channeled his inner Gryffindor courage and opened his eyes he wished he hadn't. The castle was in shambles, lying desecrated in the green flames of nameless curses that even Harry, who seemed to know many of those forbidden curses, couldn't name. Sirius stared at him in a mix of horror and pain, blood dripped in a steady ribbon of crimson from an open wound on his brow bone. His once beautiful and spotless cream shirt was now dappled in the splatters of the thick life source from unnumbered nameless victims. His homey blue-grey eyes offered much needed comfort to the barely conscious Harry.

"It's so cold Siri," Harry whispered carefully into the mind of his godfather with care, not knowing what the link that connected them would react in the man's mind, "I can't feel myself anything, everything is so dark… so cold" He continued weakly. Shutting his eyes with a careful, pain filled gasp. Time slowed down, he could vaguely hear movement as his breath came out in small gasps. Tilting his head slightly to see what the slight scurrying, scuffing noise was. He came to view Remus, who had Neville Longbottom dragging carefully at his side.

"Everyone is dead." Remus said in a defeated tone. Everyone was dead, "The entire world has gone silent. I checked everywhere Sirius, not a single heartbeat. We're the last…"

"So it was all for nothing?" Harry asked, finally finding his voice again, he felt liquid trailing down his face. He had a hard time deciding if he was crying, or if it was blood dripping down from a cut that ran just over his temple from impact of landing face first into a pile of rubble.

"We won the war Ry, they'd be proud" Neville's voice cracked through the utter silence, it was slurred with loss of blood, and it was very tired. Harry had decided Neville felt the way he himself felt at that moment.

He felt suddenly very cold. The world was dead; their world was never going to be the same. Harry Potter, Master of Death, keeper of the Deathly Hallows, The boy-who-lived, the boy-who-killed-you-know-who, multi-Animagus,was one of the last of four people left on the entire earth. Four men could not repopulate the entire world; sure they could bear children, but only to their soul mates. None of these men were each other's soul mates, thus utterly useless. Even if they were able, something about having sex with Neville, who throughout the entire war had become his closest most true friend, Remus, who was his adopted godfather, and Sirius who was his godfather as well seemed about as appealing as shagging a horse.

Sirius slowly helped Harry to a sitting position. They all stared hopelessly into each other's eyes, all asking the same unspoken question of "what next?" the pain filled eyes showing everything that words couldn't express. They thought they didn't have a chance of winning, but they won, at such a high cost. Losing loved ones, enemies, homes, and dreams in a matter of one bloody violent battle that lasted less than a day. He hated being covered in blood; his blood was bad enough let alone the blood of his friends, or former friends. Harry Potter had few friends after the betrayal of Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, though the story of their betrayal is a completely different story in its own right.

Harry was pulled to stand up as he took Sirius's hand, they needed to collect and bury as many as they could at least. He left Remus to tend to Neville's wounds as he started to gather bodies, not caring if they were Death Eaters, if they were muggleborn, if they were half-blood, or even if they were pure. He started digging the muggle way, a good old shovel that he had found somewhere between the greenhouse, and Hagrid's home on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was odd, the silence that rendered the world still, the only noise was the soft whispers that the wind held, the sound of the Sirius digging graves, and the sound of Harry dragging corpse after corpse up the hill, helping Siri dump them into singular graves.

Eventually Remus had left Neville asleep at the bottom of the hill and helped gather more bodies. Harry wasn't sure how many they had laid to rest under the earth, some thrown haphazardly in mass graves, some laying lifelessly in singular graves that were shallow, deep enough that they wouldn't wash out or be dug up, (by what they weren't sure, seeing as even the Forbidden Forest was lifeless). By the time they had only a third of the bodies the sun had sunken over the horizon. Harry continued, half dead, half dragging his own body up the hill, he sneered a sneer that Severus Snape himself would be proud of at Sirius, who refused to bury most of the death eaters leaving Harry to do it alone after he sent Remus to check up on the still resting Neville.

After what seemed like days (but was only hours) of work almost all of the bodies around Hogwarts were buried, burned, or in the process of either. Harry had worked through most of the night, and after Remus had talked Sirius into helping again the work seemed to go much faster. Harry was working on a few of the last bodies when he stumbled upon a single corpse that almost mad him weep. The body of Draco Malfoy was wrapped tightly in the arms of one Severus Snape; the lovers must have found each other before they had died. If he didn't feel so hallow, if he didn't feel so cold, he likely would have fallen to his knees. He would have cried for them, he would have cried for all of the humans, all of the muggles, the half-bloods, the pure-bloods, the squibs, and every single creature who perished. He knew the time would come soon when he did. He didn't have the heart to move them, the turn coats, and the spies that practically saved the war. He wouldn't pull them apart, so with a simple gentle kiss to each bloodied forehead of his former enemies, his former friends, he simply stared at the bodies and whispered a small "Incendio" watching as a flame appeared on his palm. He breathed life into the flame carefully before blowing it toward the bodies, turning slowly so he couldn't see the flame consume the bodies and eat away at the flesh that was once warm.

Harry wasn't sure whatever happened to his wand, but he felt strength in his new, free magic that he hadn't felt before. In the few months leading up to the war he had been training with vigor in wandless magic, and could practically do whatever spell he wished. Of course he still needed his wand for some spells, he rarely touched it for fear either Voldemort, or Dumbledore had a tracker on it. Not that it mattered now, Dumbledore was dead, and Voldemort had just been slaughtered.

As he approached his fellow survivors he couldn't help but sigh. It was over, but at such a high coast, at such a price who could feel pleased. He remembered thinking that as his knees touched the ground, and he fell into an utter darkness. He was barely conscious as his face made unprotected contact with the ground.

A/N: Please note that these chapters will be very short, this is the unedited version from FanFiction.net. Hopefully you enjoy, if not that's cool~ I don't mind!
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Titanium