Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter or Hannibal.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

Hannigram and Tomarry/Harrymort!

Will clutched his abdomen while simultaneously trying to quell the blood flowing from Abigail's neck. Compared to his wound, hers was actually immediately fatal and he needed to do something and quick. He needed to ignore the pain.

Hannibal had already left the room, leaving them both to die of the injuries he had personally inflicted. His angered and hurt actions. His desperate attempts to cut them from his life forever.

Will shook himself. It was no time to be feeling guilt, he could torment himself later on. Right now, Abigail needed his help and he knew just what to do.

It was long buried. Something he hadn't needed to use beyond basic living in years. He'd been disowned by his own 'family' for improper connections and being 'too Light' and had been adopted by another shortly before leaving, fabricating a story that the Muggles would believe. His adopted fathers had only been about three years older than him. The entire story behind that was something to be saved for another day when he had more time to think on it. But presently, he needed to save Abigail and he knew the perfect spell to do so.

Will couldn't use magic on a frequent basis. Especially in the line of work he had chosen after coming to America. He couldn't afford to lose his magic because he used it in an unexplained situation. It would look suspicious. All those times he could have saved himself, but would have been unable to explain how…

His hands were covered in his and Abigail's shared blood. His wand was in his pocket, he could reach it, but he'd either have to risk Abigail losing more blood, or himself. He chose himself because his wound wasn't immediately fatal and in all honesty, Abigail was more important than he was anyway.

He released the pressure on his abdomen, allowing his life's essence to pour once again. He retrieved his second wand - Yew, Wendigo Antler, 13 ½ inches, after the first which was Holly, Dragon Heartstring, 11 inches, had been destroyed by his 'family' - placing it to the open gash on Abigail's neck and murmuring a spell his 'father' had taught him.

Vulnera Sanentur.

The spell was for healing a particular curse, but had been found to be most helpful on any kind of egregious wound.

It came from him in the form of song, like a balm to the soul. And the body.

In a concentrated movement, Will forced the blood to freeze in place, halting its flow from her body. The second swipe made half of the blood reverse its course, pulling free of her matted hair and soaked clothing, forcing its way back into her body, via the same wound it had come from. From there, Will closed the gash by an inch, hoping to make up for lack of blood. Large wounds bled more and it would look suspicious if a two inch wound didn't bleed enough. He then ended his healing, forcing the blood to clot. With a concentrated air, he vanished his wand to the safest place he knew and he also knew that his fathers would seek him out once it arrived. Hopefully, he'd still be alive by then.

The floor was cold and unforgiving, allowing no comfort to the dying man and the young woman he viewed as a daughter. But Abigail's chest moved slowly, her breathing calm once again. He couldn't end her pain, but he could be glad that she would not die now.

Will lost time… laying in their shared blood, mind reeling at Hannibal's actions. At his own actions. At the fact that Abigail had been alive the entire time. At the fact that Alana could possibly be dying outside and he didn't care because Abigail was more important.

The world slipped away and Will fell under the stream and into unconsciousness like Hannibal had suggested, his hand still resting on Abigail's throat in a vague attempt to preserve her life, his body still twitching as the pain became unimportant.

He fell.

Will came to slowly, finding himself lying on a hospital bed, covered in wires and gauze. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. He hated hospitals.

"Are you awake fully this time?"

His ear twitched, recognizing the voice. 'Father'.

"I've dealt with the FBI and the reporters. I've dealt with everything really, if only to help you live a normal life. I know what happened, your daughter told me what she knew."

'Daughter'?

Abigail!

Will blinked several times, trying to look around.

"Calm down," his 'father' ordered. "She is in near perfect health thanks to your quick thinking. She's just worried about you. I sent her to get something from the cafe because she has sat vigil at your bedside ever since her awakening and has refused to eat more than once."

She was okay.

With a relieved sigh, Will relaxed into the terribly uncomfortable sheets of the bed. One less thing to worry about.

"You need food and water and the moment they release you, we'll take you to your new home and administer the proper care that these Muggles cannot give you, okay?"

He nodded, feeling tired once again.

"Stay awake for me, William."

"I'm trying…" he mumbled, voice scratchy and painful from being underused.

"Will!"

The familiar voice drew him from the arms of Sleep. He looked to the doorway, seeing a young woman with gauze taped around her neck, standing there. She wasn't dressed in a hospital gown like he was, instead she had on a nightdress and a dressing gown. She rushed inside, revealing the man standing behind her. His other 'father'.

Abigail stopped short of the bed, looking unsure of herself.

"You can hug him."

She did so, lightly wrapping a thin arm around Will's shoulder, pressing her cheek against his own.

"How are you?" asked Will, leaning against her because he couldn't lift his arms yet.

"Better. Harry and Tom told me everything."

Everything?

When she pulled away he sent Harry a confused look. Harry merely laughed.

"She's our granddaughter, we're not leaving her out of this!"

Will simply stared at the man who was his mother-like father figure. Compared to Tom, Harry was very open with his emotions. Harry would obviously see Abigail as a member of the family. But Will never adopted her so it wasn't like they were actually a family. They could have been, had Will just kept his damn mouth shut and his ego to himself.

He decided to focus on other matters, because that line of thought would lead into dark pastures and he did not want to visit those when his family was in the room.

He did however, decide to inform his fathers about his relationship with Abigail. "I never actually got around to adopting her so it isn't like we're, you know-"

Tom gave him a look that seemed to openly challenge his intelligence. "Really? Because there are Records listing you and one Hannibal Lecter as being the adopted fathers of miss Abigail Hobbs."

Merlin, Hannibal had thought of everything. Will felt like such a dick. Of course just because he fucked up did not mean that Hannibal wasn't also in the wrong. The two of them had problems and if Will ever saw Hannibal again, he was going to hash out everything. Also punch Hannibal the nose - breaking it and then healing it - but the discussion would definitely come.

"I wasn't aware of that," he admitted, looking away from the judgmental green eyes of Harry.

Harry did not pursue that line of questioning for long, thankfully deciding to just drop the situation and move on to other things.

The doctors came in, asserting themselves over Will's health. He was told about Jack, learning that the man had succumbed to his wounds. Bella, his wife, had passed on a few days later. Alana was still in critical condition, despite the fact that it was almost two weeks later.

Overall, Will should be feeling some modicum of sadness over what he just learned, but in truth he couldn't bring himself to give a damn.

This was a problem. As an empath, not just somebody who has a great imagination that could put himself in the shoes of other people, but a legitimate empath which was something that was rare in the magic world, William had always been a bit emotionally challenged in life. Feeling the emotions of other people had always been a taxing experience, which left him unsure of what he was feeling and whether or not they were actually from him and not somebody else. And he got used to turning it off in a sense. He would withdraw from everything and do his best to ignore his surroundings. It was the best he could do.

Not to say that he didn't feel emotions, he just felt differently than other people did. Walking inside the minds of killers and understanding their emotions perfectly had its own effect on him. Hannibal had so far only wanted to shatter the teacup that resembled Will's sanity and piece it into a better teacup than before. He wanted to unleash it upon the world and hope for the best that Will would be just like him. And stay with him. Want him in return.

After being so masterfully played in the beginning, Will had had a lot of time and the asylum/hospital to think over everything. His plan for Hannibal, his feelings for Hannibal, and their relationship thus far. And he had known. He wasn't that naive yet.

Will felt emotions strongly. Much stronger than other people did. When he was in a killer's head space, it wasn't just him observing, he was the killer. He became what he empathized with. It was a dangerous thing, there was also something to help him.

Unfortunately, his reaction to society in any form, had brought out his more morbid sense of humor. His emotions teetering between depression and absolute terror. And he could take things in himself and turn them into something terrible. Will could easily mutilate any bright thought into something that was terrifying and horrible. He didn't need Hannibal Lecter's help to get to that destination, he just needed that help in order to learn to accept himself.

So he found himself not caring that his former somewhat boss had passed. But he felt bad for the ill wife, but not enough for it to really emotionally jerk him around. Alana, former love interest possibly, was a little harder but at the same time he just really didn't care. Because he was trying to come to grips with his feelings over the Hannibal situation. And he was most certain that these feelings of guilt and the feelings of longing, were not just things that occurred between friends and he needed personal time to sort through everything.

Harry was more supportive. Although Tom was more of the strong silent type who sat by every visit, making sure that Will knew he was there should he be needed. Harry however was more affectionate, making sure that Will knew that should he need a hug or emotional reassurance, a smile even, he would be willing to give it any moment. Abigail had pulled herself up onto the bed, clinging to him like he was some kind of lifeline.

Will found himself wishing that it could have been like this the entire time. None of his awkward pacing about wondering how it was going to handle the situation. Wondering how it was going to confront the teenage girl whose father he had murdered. Whether the murderer was doing something right or not didn't matter, he had killed her father. The fact that she liked him at all was an amazing thing and he had a feeling that Hannibal had something to do with that. If only a little.

Will looked at his house that he had lived in for many years. They'd just sold it to an elderly couple looking to spend their glory years in a nice little house in the middle of nowhere. Lots of space for the grandkids and a nearby lake to fish in. Will sold it for a moderate price, seeing as he had his own trust vault and didn't need much money, but he wasn't about to lose a profit.

The dogs were coming.

Harry was practically buzzing with excitement, glad that he was coming home. Home being Slytherin's Keep in Wales. It had been years since Will had been home, having lost his accent easily while in New Orleans. Also, his knowledge of Spanish and French had completely overtaken his vocabulary, mixing him into some odd, accent having individual. The Macnairs were French born after all and were taught both French and English.

Will had moved to America to get away from the drama of Britain. After the war had been won, there was still an enormous amount of Death Eaters on the loose and William, being of a disowned Pureblood line, had been a prime target for those who wished to do harm to 'good' people.

William Macnair had been disowned in his fifth year at Hogwarts. He'd been a Slytherin and the moment the Macnair name had been removed from him, he'd become a prime target. The school had been overtaken by the Dark Lord's Death Eaters and was basically a training ground for more Death Eaters. The Carrows had particularly liked to give him punishments in order to get revenge for his 'siding with the Light'.

A load of rubbish. He'd merely questioned the use of the Cruciatus Curse on young children, especially since their roiling emotions made him ill, but also because children didn't deserve it. But his former father, Walden Macnair, did not appreciate it and disowned him immediately, ordering his former brother Waldo Macnair, to remove William from the premises, while snapping his wand in the process.

It had been a horrible few months until the Battle of Hogwarts. William had left with his fellow Slytherins, though he had wanted to stay. Where else would he go? He was homeless and Hogwarts was a safe haven of sorts until he could find a way to survive in the summer and acquire more school supplies now that his trust vault was gone. But he was a mere fifth year and McGonagall refused to allow anyone who wasn't seventeen, to stay behind.

He returned to the rubble of his once home, nearly a day later, seeing Hogwarts in mass disarray. Harry Potter stood victorious over the body of the Dark Lord. He didn't look happy. In fact, he seemed rather sad. Sad for enemy or for having to kill someone? His was bleeding sorrow.

William participated in the clean up of Hogwarts, because he had nothing better to do. Nowhere to go. He'd been at the top of his year in Charms, Runes, Defense, and Potions. Cleaning and banishing charms first, then repairs were to be made with Runes. Stray creatures that weren't killed during the battle were disposed of as quickly as possible. His new wand came from a wizard he'd defeated in Knockturn Alley.

It would take years to fix the castle. The Quidditch Pitch had been completely burned to the ground. The desolation was heartbreaking and Will could at least be happy that none of the younger years had been around to witness it. Though his good mood was ruined by the sorrow in the air. Stifling it was.

It was the fifth day after the battle, that Will met Harry Potter in person.

He'd been in the middle of repairing the girl's bathroom on the first floor - alone, he might as well add - when the Chosen One walked in, looking curious. He took in Will's obvious Slytherin attire and quirked a brow, feeling curious.

"Will Macnair, right? Slytherin?"

Will had shook his head. "I was disowned. I'm just Will and yeah, I'm a Slytherin."

"I thought McGonagall told underage students to leave. And why were you disowned?"

Potter pulled out a long, white wand and began to help in repairing the bathroom.

Will looked away, "I spoke out against the use of the Cruciatus Curse on first years. Walden didn't take too kindly to it."

There was silence for several moments.

"You came back because you have nowhere to go," concluded Potter. Will could feel his sympathy, but not pity.

"Basically."

"How do you feel about blood status?"

"I have more important things to worry about in life, than whether or not someone has pure blood. I'm an empath. A true empath, I don't have time to care about trivial things of that nature."

Potter was pleased.

"Do you have any idea of what'll you'll be doing now that the school year is over?"

"No," Will had reluctantly admitted.

"Well, you seem to be pretty good at repairing broken objects, so how about this? My godfather, Sirius Black, left me in charge of the Black House. I own the ancestral home of the Blacks. A few years back, some friends and I went through it to remove all dangerous creatures, but no matter how much we cleaned, it never seemed to be enough. The House Elf is a bit barmy and I'll admit that we should have treated him better, but he had refused to help us because we were a load of Muggle filth and blood traitors.

I could use a lot of help in fixing the house and there are over twenty bedrooms."

Will saw it for what it was. Harry Potter, defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort, was offering him sanctuary, but doing so in a veiled attempt to salvage whatever was left of Will's ego. This wasn't a hand out of any sort, it was work for a room.

"I am a good cook too."

Room and board, apparently.

Will wouldn't pass up the opportunity when it was readily presenting itself.

"I'll do it."

Who knew that half a year later, he'd be introduced to Harry's boyfriend Tom. Who knew that Tom was the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin? Who knew that Harry Potter would marry such a person, relative of the Dark Lord? Who knew that they'd decide to blood adopt him a year later, on his sixteenth birthday?

Will had been grateful to them. They'd given him a home. Harry was mothering in nature, Tom was strict but powerful and Dark. He knew things that would have made Walden Macnair melt.

And Harry Potter loved his husband even though he was a Dark Wizard! Loved Will even though he too was Dark! Didn't care about their blood relations or history. Or even the fact that Will was actually well versed in a plethora of Dark Magic, including the Unforgivables.

And when Harry admitted to using two of them multiple times, he'd gaped. It seemed that Harry Potter was not as Light as people made him out to be. In fact, he was very Slytherin.

Of course his true nature ended up being revealed to the public. Though a good bit of rumor in there as well. Will had finished his schooling a little early as he took his N.E.W.T.s at the Ministry ahead of time. But the problem was, since Harry had killed the Dark Lord, that meant he was powerful. And couldn't he up and take over with that kind of power? And then his marriage to Voldemort's grandson and the adoption of a Slytherin child, and everyone was primed to tear him apart. Almost everyone at least. Few stayed loyal.

And with everything going on, he decided to get away from the public eye for a while. Harry and Hermione had taught him enough about Muggles, so Will - with the aid of Gringotts - fashioned a Muggle identity for himself. All paperwork was charmed and whenever someone looked at it, they would see what Will wanted them to see. Harry insisted on paying for him, since Will was leaving to give him peace of mind.

And so Will ended up in America. British wizards didn't look favorably upon American wizards, so no one would ever think to look for Will there. And for seventeen years all was well in Will's life. For the most part. His Empathy had evolved of course and he'd suffered some traumatic events, but other than that, he was fine...ish.

So returning to Britain after so long would be a trip and a half.

At least he had Abigail. As his adopted daughter, she was allowed to know about magic. He could take her shopping and lavish her with gifts. He could blood adopt her, if she was okay with it.

Harry was grinning like a loon. "It'll be wonderful to have you back! You'll finally get to meet your brothers in person!"

Ah, yes. He and Tom had two sons who were about eight years old. Will had yet to formally meet them.

"They'll love you, no doubt."

Harry's faith in everyone was refreshing… and disconcerting all at once.

Will's unease was smothered by the warmth in the smile Abigail sent him and the calm happiness she radiated. She looked comfortable and excited, but he knew they'd have to talk eventually.

But maybe he could push it off for a while and let her enjoy magic.

A/N: First is done.

How was it? Let me know.

Check out my Tomarry and Harrymort fics!

See ya! :D

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

Chapter Text

A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter or Hannibal.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

Slytherin's Keep was a welcome view upon reaching the wrought, iron gates. Will stared up at the large fortress that housed him for two years in the most influential time in his life. He remembered all of the things he'd learned while there. All of the little lessons passed onto him from both of his fathers. Harry by a gentle, guiding hand and Tom by a stern but pleased countenance.

The fortress was made of grey stones and was covered in trailing vines that tried their best to cover the high arched windows. The gates surrounded the land, much like those of Hogwarts did. Spells and enchantments kept all that lie within from Muggle eyes, instead disillusioning the entire plot of land as a dark and dense forest with multiple compulsions to stay away from. A forest that was so ominous that it made the Forbidden Forest look like a child's playground.

Judging from Abigail's startled gasp and mounting worry, she was seeing the forest. She also clutched his jacket sleeve tightly, looking to him for confirmation.

Harry turned back to give them a wink, before waving a hand and stepping through the gates, which dissolved upon contact to allow him to enter. Tom followed, leading the seven canines through as well. Will held Abigail's hand and carefully pulled her through the invisible portal between the Muggle world and the Magical world.

Her worry and fear melted away into wonder and excitement. She was finally seeing what Will was seeing. Off to the left was a small pond that Will knew housed its own tribe of Merfolk. To the right was a maze that was trimmed into different designs every year in order to make it challenging. Obviously magical plants resided within in order to make the journey more exciting.

"You grew up here?"

"Something like that. I'll tell you more about it later."

She nodded, stubbornness coming over her features. Yes, she certainly wasn't going to be forgetting anything. She was feeling mischievous and was most likely planning to bombard him when he was emotionally at his weakest. It was something he'd do in order to flesh out pure honesty. He couldn't fault her for it. It was a Slytherin mindset and he'd been reared in a rather biased version of the very same mindset.

"Come on," he said gently, pulling her toward the double doors, knowing she'd prefer to find the bedroom she liked most first and foremost. He didn't even know how long they'd be staying. They could live in the home as his parents - most other wizarding children did as well, rarely ever leaving their ancestral homes - but he did have a home all his own given to him by Harry and then there were the various family manors all over the world that they could use for when they went traveling.

He'd have to think about it later, Abigail's emotions were all over the place, though thankfully on the more pleasant end of the emotional spectrum.

The dogs were sniffing around the grounds already, though Winston seemed to want to remain closer to Will than the rest. Will's eyes landed on the dog door that appeared on the bottom of the double door on the right side. Of course the fortress would make accommodations for their canine companions.

"Will! Will!"

Abigail was tugging on his arm and gesturing toward the pond where several heads were poking out of the water in order to get a good look at the people who were visiting the fortress. The Mer-chieftainess was among them, her grey/green, coral crowned head was the oldest and largest among the lot.

"I'm sure they'd like a nice greeting," he advised the teenager, honestly finding her awe amusing.

Abigail raised a tentative hand and waved three times slowly. The smaller heads, probably the newly hatched mer-young popped up just a little higher, their tiny arms waving wildly in their excitement. The leader nodded calmly toward them, before making a few sharp, shriek like demands to the young ones, who all looked forlorn, but followed her lead, dipping below the water with flamboyant flicks of their majestic tails.

"Mermaids?" Abigail asked, breathless.

"Merfolk," Will corrected. "The females are mermaids and males are mermen. The young are typically called mers by Magizoologists."

"What about the noises?"

"Their language. Under the water it's rather angelic. You'll get plenty of time to acquaint yourself with them. Their very nice and since Tom generally brings in fresh fish for them to hunt, they live in relative luxury. He even made them an underwater castle out of the rock bed."

Her excitement was palatable, like an unripened strawberry. Emotions always felt and tasted different to the various empaths. The tartness of her excitement was even stronger now.

"Let's go see the inside. I hope you like children, because they have two sons."

She immediately looked and felt wary. The honeydew flavor made his nose wrinkle.

"Okay, they are twins, or so I've heard. I haven't actually met them, but I have corresponded with them on several occasions and sent them gifts on their birthdays. Their names are Salazar and Godric. Tom named Salazar and Harry named Godric. I will tell you now though. Godric is more like Tom and Salazar is more like Harry. Don't let their eyes worry you either, it's natural or so I'm told."

For a Muggle, Abigail had pretty good control over her emotions when she put forth the effort to keep them in check. It was like she locked them into a box and sealed them away for a while, suddenly going blank. The suddenness of it had worried him enough that he had to look at her to verify that she was indeed still standing beside him. He'd never known somebody without Occlumency training who could do that.

That was unsettling, although… perhaps a blessing in disguise.

He'd have to contemplate it later.

Meeting the twins had been a trip and a half. Salazar and Godric looked very much like Tom, but had the bright red hair that Harry's mother had possessed. Also, they had heterochromia. One eye crimson and the other eye the same Avada green that Harry was so well known for.

Harry's eyes had once been like his mother's, but having come into contact with the Killing Curse not only once but twice in his young life, had distorted the coloring, making them as deadly looking at the Killing Curse. They glowed in the same manner as well.

Salazar, being the very manifestation of Gryffindor, was upfront about his interest in Abigail right away. He looped his arm through hers and lavished her with praises on her beauty and asked her if she was single. Godric was more covert, cuffing his brother upside the head and grabbing the young woman's hand away from his twin in order to place a very gentlemanly kiss on the back of it. He proceeded to smirk devilishly and introduced himself as Godric Selwyn Slytherin-Potter.

Before Abigail could respond, Salazar pushed his brother out of the way in order to follow up his introduction with one of his own. Salazar Emrys Slytherin-Potter.

Will promptly broke up the squabble that no doubt would have taken place had he not stepped into their line of view. The boys, probably having only seen photographs of him before, looked excited to see him, jumping on him the moment they realized who he was.

He was filled with the bitter, raw beets, flavor of guilt, realizing that they were basically his adopted brothers and he'd never bothered to come over to meet them, so caught up in his own life. He'd been remiss and he didn't like being in the wrong.

Young boys were always excitable and they completely forgot all about the pretty girl - which was totally fine with Will - in order to bombard him with all kinds of questions. What were American Muggles like? Did he have a boy or girl-friend yet? Was he even going to have his own children so they had someone to protect? That last one had been rather cute.

"He has a boyfriend," Abigail assured them, retaking their attention.

Will was going to intervene but the boys had already shot off questions on who he was and where he was at.

"The things is, boys, they want to be boyfriends but are worried that the other doesn't feel the same way so they dance around each other a lot."

Salazar was the one to look at Will like he was insane. "If you love each other like mum and dad do, why don't you just marry each other already?! You have a daughter and what mum says every family needs so you need to make it of-of-official."

Godric was nodding, "Yes. It would be prudent to claim each other before someone else comes along and attempts to overthrow your relationship."

Will turned his mortified gaze to Harry, who was standing not too far off, grinning like a loon. He shrugged at the accusing look Will was sending him. "I can't help it if they think that family is important."

"Mhm," said Will, not convinced.

Anne, the Head Elf for Slytherin's Keep, popped in. "Dinner bes finished."

The boys whipped around, already running for the dining room. At Harry's cleared throat, they slowed down to a barely acceptable skip, but giggled mischievously the moment they were out of sight, footsteps moving faster again.

Harry rolled his eyes affectionately and Will could feel the pure joy radiating from him. Taste the odd sweetness of chocolate on his tongue.

"Come on then, the Elves will take your luggage on up. Abigail can choose her room after she's eaten. Mind you, not every meal will be like this. I do fancy cooking every now and then and I prefer not to get lazy simply because we have servants."

Harry had never appreciated it when people assumed that he was lazy. He'd had a trying childhood and half the people in Magical Britain thought his life was all fairies and unicorns and they couldn't be further from the truth. Harry was probably the hardest working person Will knew.

Will linked arms with his adopted daughter and pulled her along after his father, murmuring about the origins of the portraits that waved as they passed. Abigail's wondering eyes were filled with amazement.

Tom was already sitting at the head of the table and Harry was at the other end. Will and Abigail sat across from the boys on the other side, near the mantle. Will closest to Tom because he was used to Tom's brand of humor, leaving Abigail at the mercy of Harry's mother-henning.

The hearth was alight with flames provided by the House Elves. The food blossomed on the plates and Will enjoyed how Abigail was simply amazed by everything she saw. The cutlery, the dishware, the food, the interior of the room. It was all overwhelming, true, but she was handling herself rather well.

Harry immediately set to warming Abigail up to the manor, asking her questions in order to ease her worries. While they discussed Abigail's favorite hobbies, Tom engaged Will in a low conversation about who Hannibal Lecter was and why he wasn't with Will and Abigail.

Tom cast a small muffliato on them, so they could speak and hear each other at the same time.

"He's… my friend."

"A friend that stabbed you in the gut and then sliced your daughter's neck."

Will couldn't hide the wince, because when it was said like that, it sounded harsh and brutal. But Will knew the truth.

"Tom, Hannibal is a serial killer. The best and worst in American history. I was charged with making the profile and helping find him. We met on another case and he became my unofficial psychiatrist. He rubber stamped me for the field to let me get back into my job while we could still talk unimpeded by FBI restrictions. Though I was reluctant, he slipped his way inside and I thought of him as a friend."

"And now not so much?" asked Tom, brow quirked.

"It's not that. I… I had an illness. Encephalitis. There was swelling in my brain and was causing hallucinations, sleepwalking, time loss, seizures, and other things. Hannibal knew from the scent, but he had this grand idea in mind that I was as Dark as he was, but that I needed to learn to accept it. So he hatched a plan to make it worse and he slowly began exacerbating my symptoms and then he framed me for murder."

Before Tom could go on a tirade, as his face showed, Will was continuing on quickly.

"Hannibal truly believed that his way was best for me. He really thought his method was going to help me and him. That it was the only way he could get me to accept myself. And while it worked, I was angry. I felt he had betrayed me. I knew who he really was. Not only was he one killer, but he was also another. I decided that I'd play his game and bring him down."

Tom was staring at his plate, lips pursed in obvious annoyance.

"So I was released from prison when the judge for my trial was murdered - by Hannibal, because he ignored Hannibal's testimony - and with several murders popping up, they had nothing to pin me down with. No true justification. I engaged Hannibal in the game and he accepted.

My friend Jack was slowly coming around to my thinking. As a special agent of the FBI, when I accused Hannibal of being a killer, they scoured his home and found nothing. But I kept giving facts and relatable information. A member of Jack's team was killed by Hannibal in too suspicious of a way. So Jack decided to believe me and we hatched a scheme to trick Hannibal into lowering his guard."

Tom groaned, "You got emotionally involved like a Hufflepuff."

"I was already emotionally involved, Tom," defended Will. "Hannibal is amazing. I feel like myself. Like I can be happy, when I'm with him. I never feel more alive than when I'm around him. I admired him still and it was difficult to want revenge and yet want to be near him. I basically became a fence sitter and I couldn't really decide what to do. I decided much too late. He'd already known I had betrayed him that night, so when I went to him after calling and telling him that the FBI knew everything in hopes that he would leave so he wouldn't get caught and I wouldn't have to make a choice, he stayed. He confronted Jack and Alana. And then me."

Will looked away, feeling ashamed at the duplicity.

"I deserved the knife to the gut. I lied about killing someone, to his face. I understand Hannibal in a way that no one ever will. To open himself up after years of being alone and to let someone see all of him, only to be betrayed, hurts. I would know. So while I accept being gutted, I do not accept him using Abigail to hurt me.

After all that effort to keep her alive and well in hopes of repaying me for the shit he put me through, he decided that he'd cut both of us from his life in order to save himself the hurt of our memory and to hurt me in return. If I ever seen him again, I will handle that situation, but for now... I'm content to ignore it in favor of allowing Abigail to enjoy this new world she's been introduced to."

With those words, Will fell silent, allowing Tom to draw his own conclusions.

"I'd say that your relationship with this Hannibal Lecter, is unhealthy."

That made the younger wizard snort. If only Tom knew.

"Unhealthy by normal standards and perhaps a little by my own. However, I cannot say that I haven't hurt Hadrian before and he has accepted me just fine even after everything. He may not forgive me, but he loves me anyway."

Will frowned, sending his adoptive father a look of confusion, wondering what he could have done to Harry that wouldn't earn him forgiveness no matter how much he tried.

"If you ever meet your Hannibal again, I will tell you of mine and Hadrian's past. Only then will you truly understand. Seeing someone you care for even after they've hurt you, can't be properly explained. Like the hole of their absence in your very being has been filled up suddenly and you feel whole once again, but at the same time, the filling is bittersweet and leaves you hurting despite the joy in seeing them. You'll understand when that day comes."

"You're so sure that it'll come?" asked Will.

"I know it will. But it won't come when you're deliberately searching him out. It never works like that.

While I am skeptical of this man, I will allow him to explain himself and not use prior formed ideas of him to cloud my judgment. You're drawn to him. You care about him and I can relate in a sense, so I will do you this favor."

Will smiled, "Thanks, Tom."

Will and Abigail found themselves sharing tea with Harry a few days later and it was then, that she finally asked what Will had been dreading.

"Was I the teacup?"

Placing his cup on the saucer, Will straightened and nodded. "Yes. We'd had a discussion about him shattering the teacup. About his selfishness in wanting me to be attached only to him. He severed my ties to everyone else in my life, took you away when we bonded, took the idea of the child I may have had with a woman we both knew, away. He tried to justify himself and said that you couldn't have lived in this life. That it had to happen. Said that he would shatter a teacup and be dissatisfied when it didn't come back together. Even said that maybe one day, the teacup would reform.

And as he held me in the middle of his kitchen, he informed me that the precious teacup had come back together as a gift for me. That he never took you away, simply allowed me to lose sight of you for a while. He wanted us to be a family and through our joint betrayal, it didn't happen the way he wanted."

Harry was listening silently as Will and Abigail faced their issues.

"I'm sorry that you had to be dragged into our problems," Will finally said, throat uncomfortably tight as he staved off an emotional response.

She said nothing, simply stared into her tea as she rubbed her throat where both sides were now covered in scars from both men she viewed as a father figure. Tom had created a paste that would help them fade within time, so she wouldn't have to wear scarves or disillusionment charms all the time.

"I'm only slightly put off by it all," she said. "I think I was too trusting of him because he had experience and knew what to do. Perhaps I should have realized what he was planning to do when he asked if you would forgive him and then asked for me to come to him."

The green eyed wizard entered their conversation then, smiling lightly at the two of them. "I think you both and Hannibal are going to have to sit down and have a long discussion over everything. There are obviously some old wounds that needed healing and while I understand that you both may have been foolish or done something wrong, you also need to realize that this is a problem made by three people and should be handled with all three of you. Do not let him get away with his actions simply because 'I betrayed him' and 'I was too naive'. He was a tad too manipulative and all three of you have something to answer for."

Will sighed and Abigail sniffed a bit, eyes looking glassy.

"Do you love him?" Abigail asked suddenly, cornering Will with those piercing baby blues, emotions a well of sadness and longing.

He scrambled to find an answer, unsure of what he should say because he'd never really thought of Hannibal and love in the same sentence.

Harry was grinning into his teacup as he said, "Sometimes we hurt the ones who love us most and love the ones who hurt us most."

And that was it. That little sentence seemed to jar something within Will and he found himself nodding along with it, because it was true. Even after everything that had happened between them, Will still wanted to be with Hannibal. Wanted to run away with him where they could have a family.

"I love Hannibal Lecter."

Abigail was grinning and Harry looked at peace once more.

Blood adoption was among the least used rituals in the magical world, and least of all in Great Britain. Only few Goblins and some Ministry personnel were qualified to even officiate the ritual required. Thankfully, Will was on cordial terms with his account manager and Rhabrhach was willing to do the ritual for a much lower price than usually given.

Abigail was a trooper through it all, allowing her hand to be cut and her blood to be added to the chalice. Will's blood joined her's a moment later and the two listened as Rhabrhach spoke in a guttural voice, unknown words slipping from his thin lips.

"Drink it," he ordered, holding the glowing cup out to the young woman.

With only slight hesitance - one of her adoptive fathers cooked humans for Merlin's sake, she should be used to unnatural dishes - she consumed what was inside the cup, nose wrinkled only slightly. Will knew the feeling, having done the very same ritual with Tom and Harry over seventeen years ago.

Abigail was covered in a halo of golden light, her body making the change. She knew what was going to happen, having discussed it at length with Will and Tom the night prior. Her features would change just the slightest, making Abigail Hobbs a thing of the past and now Abigail Potter her future.

Her hair darkened a few shades, matching Will's own hair, eyes lightening just a bit and face becoming slightly more angular. She also grew a little, maybe an inch or so.

The young woman beamed at him and turned to thank the Goblin who had helped them.

Now… all they had to do was shop.

Joy.

A/N: Another is done!

How was it? Let me know!

Check out my other fics.

See ya! :D

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

Chapter Text

A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Hannibal or Harry Potter.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

"So what do you plan to do when William is reunited with his lover?" Tom asked from the bed as Harry changed into his pajamas.

"I think that once they come to grips with their situation, we should tell the little family about our past and how we can understand them to an extent."

"You think it wise?"

"Yes," insisted Harry. "They will need to know."

Tom sighed but nodded, "If that is what you wish."

Will hadn't thought life could be this good. Though Hannibal wasn't with them, they still managed to make their family work somehow, though both he and Abigail could feel his absence and sometimes couldn't think of anything but him. But they tried their hardest to live normally. Well… as normally as one can around magicals.

Abigail was taking lessons every day on proper etiquette in society. She'd have to attend some functions every now and then and her status as a former Muggle would be best hidden if she could act the part. Technically, being adopted by a Pureblood wizard with a lineage of over five hundred years of being pure, made her a halfblood Squib in a sense.

Abigail had ways to gain magic if she wanted to become a magical creature of some sort. In fact at the top of the list was a Wendigo.

There were born and changed Wendigos. Those born as what they are and those who change, either from a Wendigo bite or wound, or from consuming human flesh for a lengthy period of time and then being exposed to raw magic. Hannibal had a greater chance of becoming a magical creature than Abigail did, but the chance was still there.

Abigail wasn't a big fan of her lessons, but took them with dignity and even put one person in her place when she was called a shameful Muggle. Abigail firmly insisted that she was a Halfblood Squib and that if the tutor was so concerned, she could speak with Will, or Harry, or even Tom. The woman shut up rather quickly. Using Tom as a threat was genius.

Lord Slytherin was a bit of an inspiration when it came to fear. Just one look and people cowered. He never attacked anyone and barely spoke to anyone either, but it was all in his disposition and people knew not to anger Tom.

Harry was still the Savior despite what some Light wizards preached. He'd saved everyone from the Dark Lord and was considered the greatest wizard in British history. The woman would not wish to anger either man who were both Halfbloods, nor would she want to garner the negative attention of a Pureblood who was reared in the Slytherin ways.

The woman was a Light witch of course and she had been steeped in the ridiculous belief that Slytherins were evil. She eyed Will like he was a lion that was lying in wait for her to misstep so that he may devour her.

She wasn't far off. One more mistake and he'd remove her permanently.

He had time to reflect on how murderous his thoughts had become. It was like every time someone was less than respectful, he was considering gutting them. Abigail had even proposed the decapitation of one young man in Diagon Alley when he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

And the funny thing was, neither felt particularly bad for such thoughts.

They even found themselves tallying up people they met or saw. The term, 'Another for our table' was passed around a lot. It was a playful thing, but held meaning all the same.

Will had to really wonder how much Hannibal had changed the both of them.

A lot.

"So there's other magical communities?" Abigail asked one day after her tutor had finally buggered off.

Will nodded, "All over the world. Of course you need to properly observe their customs and their laws before going. Almost every other country has individual ministries and laws. Great Britain gathered as one body five centuries ago and the United States took their lead about a century ago. There is only one magical school in Great Britain and only one in the U.S.. Also, following behind them is Central America, the magical institution resides in the home of the Aztec empire."

"Have you been to the other communities?"

"I've been to France," said Will. "My blood relations are of French lineage and we often went on holiday in Paris and Toulouse. I've been to Madrid and Barcelona. I've gone to Cairo once. It's really interesting to see other cultures and how they view magic."

He dumped three cubes of sugar into his tea and stirred four times. "They view magic differently than here. Someone children can use their magic any time without waiting for their majority. Some places allow legal use of Dark Magic, or at least, what is considered Dark in Britain. Most of the Eurasian continent allows use of the Killing Curse because people don't usually resort to it to deal with their issues. Torture curses are more frowned upon because instant death compared to hours of pain and suffering that could lead to insanity, is not so bad.

Of course getting caught murdering someone will get you arrested."

She nodded her head as that little tidbit was kind of obvious. "I was doing some reading and I noticed that Squibs can makes potions."

He sipped his tea, "Would you like to learn how to make potions?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Well you're a smart girl. I'm sure you'll get it quickly."

They'd been in Britain for five months so far and Abigail was showing amazing progress in her pursuit of Potioneering. Will had been the best of his year at Potions, same as Tom and Harry in the last school year he had attended. Between the three of them, they were able to teach her a lot of information and Harry even went so far as to give her the book he had used in his sixth year for when she wanted to know why their methods differed from the books she had been given.

Harry had to search what was left of the Room of Requirement to find it, but he managed just fine.

Abigail was already skilled with a knife and the proper lessons usually geared toward teaching how to slice and dice, or mince and mash, weren't needed. She jumped right into her reading and studying, putting forth much more effort than when she did for her etiquette lessons.

Will could understand. He never like Herbology and barely tried in that class, but for Potions he had done his best to be the best. People tended to work harder at the things they loved. Harry was proof with his adoration of Defense and Flying.

Abigail's first potion was executed perfectly under Will's careful watch. A simple boil cure. Nothing too fancy but for someone who'd only been working on her Potions knowledge for a week, it was good.

She then had to make an extra one as her homework in order to familiarize herself with it. The more times she brewed it, the more muscle memory she would gain until it came like second nature to her.

Something else that had shocked Will about Abigail was her mental capacity. She too had a budding memory palace, but it was a large forest. Under her permission, Will used Legilimency - taught to him by Tom - to explore, joining her in her mindscape and just getting to know the layout.

The fact that she had one was amazing.

Rarely did Muggles ever have enough control to used the method, but she had done it. Hannibal hadn't been so shocking when Will learned of it. It was Hannibal after all. But Abigail was over twenty years the man's junior and according to her, had had it for at least three years.

Memory palaces were simply branches of Occlumency and while Abigail had no magic and could not defend against a mental intrusion or onslaught, she could make it hard on her attackers by arranging information a certain way or even adding traps if she wanted. It was her mind and if she wanted to add a pit of flames, she could.

Upon this revelation, Will turned her toward Tom. Tom had too been impressed by her ability though he never said anything. Tom wasn't the sort to offer compliments often. He rarely did so, so that when he did find something worthy of his praise, the meaning was much more important.

Within a month, Abigail finished the first year curriculum taught at Hogwarts, plus a few extra courses. Spending her days on only one school subject allowed her to progress faster. In first year, usually the students only had one Potions class a week. With Potions every day and Double Potions twice a day every other day, Abigail was able to devote her time to it.

Hannibal had taught her a considerable amount about herbs while he was keeping her hidden.

Will tried to ignore the small pang of pain in his chest at the thought of his friend and how they had parted ways.

He wanted to see Hannibal again and he knew that Abigail wanted to as well but felt reluctant to mention him around Will after what happened the last time they talked about the blond. Will had pretty much broken down and cried. Silently of course. That wasn't something Slytherins did loudly if at all.

It was the regret of being a fence sitter. He wanted to be with Hannibal and he felt bad about betraying him. He also felt bad that Hannibal decided the best punishment was to kill Abigail to hurt Will.

Thankfully, Tom's scarring paste was working wonders at slowly lightening the scars on her throat. Another few months and she wouldn't have to wear a scarf any longer.

Back to Abigail's progress. Will had high expectations of her though she didn't know it. She was also following right on the mental schedule Will had created. She was doing well and he was excited to see her showing proficiency in something he had a Mastery in.

The more she advanced, she'd be able to take the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams. The moment she passed, she could start providing apothecaries with her wares.

She was excited at the prospect at making her own money and insisted that the trust fund Will had created for her, should only be used for emergencies or necessities. Whatever she earned was for personal happiness.

It was her vault to do with whatever she wanted, so Will did not object to her decision.

"Do you think we can travel to other magical communities?" she asked one day in mid October. The temperature was dropping and leaves were falling slowly.

Will nodded, "We could go anywhere you'd like. Harry and Tom own a lot of properties all over the world and wouldn't mind if family chose to use them while exploring."

"Is France nice?"

"Yes. The food is good most of the time and the people are okay."

"Can we go there?"

"Sure."

Abigail was planning. She and Hannibal had had many discussions about Europe. That day in his kitchen, they were preparing to leave for France and from there go to Italy after a few days. Hannibal most likely was in Italy at the moment and she needed to get their family back together.

Will wouldn't know her ulterior motive and probably wouldn't ever have to. Besides, she would like to see the world like Hannibal had promised she would. Though this wasn't exactly how he meant it, she wasn't complaining.

There was magic. Real, honest to God, magic.

Will had magic but had decided not to use it too much because he wouldn't be able to explain himself and if he removed the memories of too many people, eventually someone would raise questions and he could have called the wrath of the American Ministry on his head.

She was grateful that he was willing to throw away his worries in order to save her. Will really did care and not in the sense that her father had. Will didn't want to consume her or kill her.

He was lonely, much like Hannibal. They both wanted a family, but only with someone who was worthy enough. Someone who understood.

Abigail was that someone. Now, she had to bring her errant fathers together so that Will would be happy again and Hannibal - wherever he was in Italy - wouldn't mope any longer.

"So… Veela are like harpies when they're angry?" asked Abigail, trying to make sense of what she was reading in her book. France had one of the largest populations of Veela in the world and there were a lot of books to learn from.

"They chuck fireballs too," provided Will, sipping his latte.

"What about the allure? Are there no homosexual Veela? Why is it only geared toward men?"

Will smiled at how put out she sounded.

"Well, there have only ever been female Veela. The only male in existence with Veela blood is a cousin in law of mine. He's only ⅛ Veela though. As for their allure, I don't really know. Harry is Bisexual and he was never affected by the allure like the other boys in school were. For me, to be allured means you need to look upon a Veela and I avoided people in general, so I've only ever met Fleur and she's mated so her allure works to keep her husband interested and… um… randy."

Abigail flushed a bit, but nodded her understanding.

A few minutes later, she was asking about vampires and Will resigned himself to lecturing.

At least she wanted to learn.

"Are you sure?" asked Will.

He and Abigail were choosing where to explore next and she said she wanted to see Stonehenge.

"You realize that the ambient magic there could very well turn you into a Wendigo if you've consumed enough human meat?"

"Well what about you? You ate with him more than I did," she countered.

He paused, thinking it over. "There's… never been a magical who changed because of magic, usually they have to be bitten. But… it may be entirely possible."

Shite. He hadn't considered that.

"Do you want to be a Wendigo?" asked Abigail.

"Well, there aren't any in Britain from what I know and the last known one in history was slaughtered in America about a century ago. They're considered Dark creatures and in Britain the Ministry has ordered execution of them."

"But we could live elsewhere else if they ever found out, right?"

"I… guess, yeah. I have a manor in Rome that Harry gave me for completing my N.E.W.T.s perfectly. Italy is pretty lax on what they consider to be Dark."

"So then, do you want to chance it? Would you be okay with being a Dark creature?"

"Honestly… I don't care."

"Then let's go!" she insisted, smiling brightly.

Oh Merlin, what were they about to get themselves into?

Abigail hadn't expected this when she agreed to go to a place that could turn her from a human and into something else entirely.

The moment they stepped into the dilapidated circle of the stones, Will collapsed with a terrifying scream, clutching at his chest as he rolled around on the grass.

She figured that he was turning into a Wendigo because he'd eaten so much at Hannibal's home. But… she didn't think it would hurt him. She wouldn't have suggested going to the damn place if she knew that this was what would happen!

Already, his skin was darkening, clothes ripping as his body grew in physical size. Normal, trimmed nails suddenly lengthening into sharp, black claws.

There was magic around them. She could feel it. It pulsed insanely and she could feel her own heart beating rapidly in fear and worry for what what was happening to her dad.

He hadn't stopped screaming and she tried to calm him, tried to place a hand on his chest to keep him still.

One clawed hand lashed out and Abigail's palm was sliced open by deadly claws.

She flinched away, bringing her not bleeding appendage up to her face, where the skin was also turning black and beginning to burn. She started to panic.

Not good. Not good. Not good. NOT GOOD!

Shaking, she grabbed the Portkey necklace Will had made for her. It was supposed to take her back to Slytherin Keep if she ever found herself in danger and needed an escape.

They needed Harry and Tom. They'd know what to do. They knew everything!

Without preamble, she launched herself at the man, pressing the Portkey to the flesh of his face as she screamed, "The Keep!" The world spun in place.

"William turned into a Wendigo when he was exposed to the natural magic of Stonehenge," said Tom. "Does that not explain anything bad about this Hannibal Lecter to you?"

"Tom, unlike you I keep up with Muggle news. He's known as Hannibal the Cannibal and he's America's most terrifying serial killer in history. Dozens of known murders are connected to him and most likely dozens more that he did under false names. So far, he's been identified as the Chesapeake Ripper and the Copycat Killer. I did do some digging and found that he once haunted Italy, about twenty years ago as Il Mostro, The Monster of Florence. Dozens of murders that were artfully displayed as well. He also lived in France with his aunt and uncle before then and had began his killing spree there under another name.

He prefers to use organs and then cooks them into fanciful dishes that he consumes and serves to other people. Will ate at his home a lot, even after knowing about the man. It was Will's decision.

May I remind you of the shite you pulled?"

Tom's raised his hands defensively. "I know, I know. I just don't like how this man sounds."

"No," grinned Harry. "You don't like how he could possibly be a threat to you."

Tom scoffed, "No Muggle is a threat to me."

Harry petted his husband's hair softly, "You'd be surprised Tom. And we both know that if he ends up turning into a Wendigo due to untamed magic, he'll be extremely powerful. You know the abilities Wendigos can possess. They don't need wands to channel their powers and most of it is brutal.

You're just angry that a Muggle has managed to inspire more fear all over the world than you have. You're angry that he's no doubtedly killed more people than you have personally. You're angry that he's most likely killed more people by proxy than you did. You're angry that your influence over Will has pretty much dissipated in order to cling to this new, strange man who means more to him. You're jealous."

Harry met Tom's gaze easily and Tom huffed. "I killed more people," he said petulantly.

"You've tortured more people, Tom, but didn't kill as many. You got others to do the dirty work for you. Other than your Horcruxes and a few others, you resorted to torture. You had your snake eat people instead of you killing them. You had your followers take them and do whatever to them.

Will's not going to give you up simply because there's a better mass murderer in his life. Stop fretting over nothing."

Tom grumbled petulantly but nodded reluctantly.

"And may I remind you that he doesn't know you're a former Dark Lord," added Harry with a knowing look.

"Now, how do we introduce them to their new lives as Dark creatures? You've got experience in this so I think you should lead them. Will's going to beat himself up over turning Abigail so we need to make this as painless as possible."

Tom sighed. "Fine. Here's what we'll do."

A/N: Another is done.

How was it? Let me know.

Check out my other fics.

See ya !:D

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

Chapter Text

A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter or Hannibal.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.

Will was groggy and his head was spinning in more directions than he'd ever like it to. He groaned, shifting onto his side where he felt his back pop. It felt good in a strange way, and he stretched his legs out in order to work out the kinks that had formed due to sleeping for so long.

"Are you awake yet?"

Will let out a frustrated, 'meh' because he was so warm and comfortable, he didn't want to grace the world with his fine presence just yet. He snuggled a little deeper into his pillow, intent on going back to sleep.

"Please stop," the voice continued. "If your antlers ruin the bed covers, I will be most displeased."

Right. Wouldn't want his antlers to ruin the bed covers. It'd be rude.

…

…

…

HIS WHAT?!

Will shot up, eyes wide as he looked around, his head feeling unnaturally heavy.

"Ah, I thought that would do it!" Harry said, smiling.

His father held up a large mirror and Will was confronted with darkness.

"Oh darling, you need all the makeovers!" the mirror gasped.

Will wasn't really paying attention to it, because what was looking back at him, wasn't his face. It was black. The skin was as black as pitch, with eyes like rubies. Two large fangs protruded from either side of the mouth, hanging past the lips. Jutting out from either side of it's skull were large, black antlers that were crimson at the tips. The being in the mirror looked hellish. Deadly.

"I've heard of extreme makeover, but this is ridiculous!" Harry laughed.

Will's head turned sharply and he had to struggle to keep himself upright when the extra weight on his head attempted to pull him back down to the bedcovers.

"Yes," winced Harry. "That is going to be a bit of a problem, isn't it?"

Steadying himself, Will asked the very obvious question. "What happened?"

Harry was seated beside the bed, legs folded calmly as if his adopted son wasn't looking like some deformed demon from hell, and just as terrifying. "You and Abigail visited Stonehenge. The magic practically saturating the stones forced you into a change. You are now a Wendigo."

Flickers of his experience came to him. Pain. There had been a lot of pain involved. Searing through his veins sort of pain. He wondered if that was what becoming a Werewolf felt like.

If he became a Wendigo simply because he was exposed to natural magic, then Harry and Tom had to know about his change in diet. There was only one other way for it to happen after all.

"Tom was nearly apoplectic with rage," Harry explained. "His opinion of your Hannibal seems to be lowering as the time goes by."

Damn.

"However, you are our son and Tom has promised to help you and Abigail in your new lives."

He sighed in relief. Tom was going to help he and…

"Abigail too?!" he screeched. He hadn't thought anything would happen to her as she'd eaten much less than he had.

Harry flinched, averting his gaze. That wasn't good. If Harry couldn't even made eye contact then whatever happened had to be bad.

"Just lay it on me," groaned the newly changed Wendigo, breath coming out like frost.

"You infected Abigail by cutting her hand."

Will wasn't even allowed to begin hating himself because Harry cuffed him upside the head with a book, hardcover for good measure.

"Don't go getting depressed! You both knew what you were getting into by going there in the first place. Abigail awoke yesterday and she's taken this much better than you. Probably because she has magic now, but who am I to explain that?"

"Wait, why did she wake before I did?"

"According to Tom, bites and injuries caused by a Wendigo, transform the human faster. Also, she had no magic of her own for the infection to contend with. Your magic battled against the infection the entire time you were unconscious. Tom said your magic had to change and alter itself in order for your body accept the changes.

Cases likes yours are rare apparently."

That did not make Will feel any better.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter - or as his current alias was known as, Dr. Roman Fell - couldn't keep the look of displeasure off his face. Bedelia was playing a very dangerous game if she thought she could manipulate him into doing what she wanted.

He was certain the Mrs. Fell might have to have an accident in order to learn her lesson.

He fumed silently though, not bothering to move. Bedelia was aware of his displeasure and letting her stew in the knowledge for however long he wished, would make the scent of her fear all the more enjoyable.

Flipping open his iPad, Hannibal decided that he needed some entertainment and who was the best at embellishing the most bland stories and making them interesting? Freddie Lounds.

Hannibal had much to catch up on. Several months of Ms. Lounds' exploitative journalism all ready for him to peruse.

He started with the very first, which had to do with Abigail.

CANNIBAL'S DAUGHTER ALIVE!

Abigail Hobbs had formerly been assumed dead over the past four months. Her suspected killer, none other than her adopted father, Will Graham(formerly an assistant profiler of the FBI). Lo' and behold the young teen was found alive on the floor of Hannibal Lecter's(a.k.a. Chesapeake Ripper, Copycat Killer, Hannibal the Cannibal) kitchen, slowly bleeding out beside Will Graham, her other adoptive father nowhere in sight.

Graham and Hobbs were given fatal wounds each and had both flatlined at least once on the way to the hospital. Lecter is the suspected attacker.

This reporter was in on the plan to oust Lecter, ever since Graham was released from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Graham had been right all along about Lecter being a killer and only this reporter believed him thoroughly. While Frederick Chilton fit most of the profile of the Ripper, he was not a perfect candidate. The only person around who fit the profile exactly was Dr. Hannibal Lecter, formerly of Baltimore Maryland.

Lecter had been more intelligent than assumed, knowing of Graham's plot to capture him and instead, punished Graham and their surrogate daughter, for Graham's actions. Hobbs has admitted that Lecter kept her safe as a seaside abode over the past few months. She'd didn't have much to comment on other than the fact that she was given several illegal drugs and was watched constantly by a young woman whose name she never learned.

Both Hobbs and Graham are in the hospital at the moment, and only Hobbs has awoken from her coma.

More to come soon, dear readers,

As always, Freddie Lounds.

Hannibal frowned at most of the article. He was confused and annoyed.

Confused because Abigail had somehow survived a fatal wound. He didn't hold back or anything, he simply took her into his arms and slit her throat all the way across.

But the photograph available of Abigail lying in a hospital bed, showed that the gauze on her throat, only stretched partially. It did not fully cover the area where he'd slashed her. But… there was no wound on the other half of her throat. He'd cut the whole way. There should have been a mark or a scar or something.

It was just… confusing.

Abigail was alive. That had not been his intent, but he felt… relieved. He had not wanted to kill her. He hadn't wanted to make her suffer simply because he and Will couldn't communicate without convoluted metaphors.

Still though, her convalescence seemed to be going well judging from the photo. Her skin didn't look too pale. She would have been up and running not long after the photo had been taken.

The photo of Will however, was much worse and definitely had more to see. Freddie Lounds had gotten into Will's room and had taken all of his clothes and bedding off his body, placing only a large box over his genitalia to save him some form of privacy, before she took photos of him.

The bottom half of his torso was wrapped in white bandages and gauze. His skin was of a deathly pale shade. He looked terrible.

Hannibal didn't like the results of this. His actions hadn't been with intent of killing Will, just teaching him a lesson. Will would have lived had he remained in place, stemming the blood flow. Something had caused him to lose more blood than necessary, which was why he had flatlined. But what was it?

Abigail shouldn't have lived. Will shouldn't have flatlined. Something was going on there and he knew Will was the reason, he just didn't know how.

He moved past some more headlines that basically repeated themselves, just written differently. Barely any of the normal populace would have noticed that she was simply coming at the same story from different angles, but at least she had imagination.

He learned that Jack had died and Bella not long after. He learned that Alana had permanent hip damage and was barely moving.

What caught his eyes, was about two weeks after his leaving, Freddie had more news on the development.

TWO UNKNOWN MEN LINGERING AROUND WILL GRAHAM'S AND ABIGAIL HOBBS' ROOMS!

None of the staff at the hospital have been forthcoming about the two new arrivals. In fact, they seem reluctant or incapable of giving any information about them at all. This reporter has tried numerous times to get a statement from either man only to be shot down cruelly.

The two men, as shown below, have been coming to the hospital daily. The shorter man is sitting beside Graham's bedside constantly while the taller man has been seen escorting Hobbs about the premises, purchasing lunch for her and speaking in hushed tones with her.

Hobbs seems more lively now and eagerly sits by Graham's bed well into the hours of the evening, waiting for him to open his eyes. She and the two unknown men seem to have formed a smooth camaraderie.

This reporter intends to learn more soon,

Freddie Lounds.

Below the story, were several photographs of two different men and some with Abigail thrown in.

The first man was about Abigail's height, judging by how close they stood together. He was perhaps an inch taller. His black hair was classically messy - much like Will's - and he wore a pair of sleek, black, angular frames. Another photo which was a close up on his face, showed that he possessed unnatural green eyes and a strange scar on his brow. His pale skin was an unearthly white shade.

Aesthetically he was very pleasing to look upon. His appearance made Hannibal feel protective. As if he had to keep the young man safe at all costs.

The other man however, while also aesthetically pleasing, inspired something more in Hannibal. Just looking at one of the photos of him from afar, made Hannibal feel defensive instead. The man held himself in such a way that screamed that he was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

His hair was more of a dark brown shade than black, and it had a natural wave to it. It was the same shade as Will's actually. His jaw was strong and his face angular.

Both men were attractive, just in different ways.

This one was much taller than the other and Abigail. His body long, but his shoulders rather broad. His suit - much like the other man's - was Aramani and had been tailored specifically for his body.

A close up showed his eyes were borderline burgundy and were as sharp as a blade. He was regarding the photographer - most likely Ms. Lounds - with obvious distaste that spoke volumes of what he was capable of.

Hannibal was not a fool. The man was a killer. Everything about him was a beacon meant to warn off others who were cut from similar cloth. Normal folk wouldn't notice anything behind his dangerous beauty. They'd be too enamoured by him to see anything else. But Hannibal was used to looking deeper and he found himself never wanting to meet that man.

Hannibal had a strong suspicion that if he went up against that man, he wouldn't not live long. While not scared of dying per se, Hannibal didn't want to die just yet. He had so much to live for.

He needed to see Will and Abigail again after all. There were things that he needed to know.

The next big entry, was enough to shock him to his core.

GRAHAM AND HOBBS LEAVE THE U.S.A.!

Graham awoke three days ago and with a little assistance from the two unknown men, he and Abigail Hobbs were able to leave the hospital this morning.

It has been revealed that Graham had put his house on the market a little after waking up and sold it to the first couple for a low price of $65,000! Graham doesn't plan to stay around for very long.

The two men have hired countless moving trucks and such and have already packed and moved everything from Graham's old home. If this reporter had to guess, I'd say they are moving to England if their posh accents are anything to go by.

Neither Graham or Hobbs were willing to part with information on their plans for the future, so the best we can do is assume for the moment.

I intend to learn more, however.

Yours faithfully,

Freddie Lounds.

The photos revealed the For Sale sign in front of Will's old home. There was a large SUV parked in front of the house as Abigail and Will led seven dogs inside it. The men stood on the porch, calmly assessing everything.

Another photo was of everyone in the vehicle and the vehicle pulling out of the driveway. The shorter man was driving.

For several photos, it seemed that Freddie had managed to follow them quite a ways, before losing sight of them in the rush hour traffic.

Hannibal was completely blown away. Will and Abigail were alive and had left America. Nearly five months ago. They'd been gone for nearly five months and no one had attempted to get into contact with him.

He'd hoped that Will couldn't help but be drawn to him eventually. That was why he was murdering people in such a flashy manner. He'd been waiting for Will to take notice, but it seemed that neither Will nor Abigail wanted anything to do with him.

He didn't know how to handle that thought.

He did know that he was very angry and had a perfectly naughty 'wife' in need of a lesson.

Hannibal abandoned the iPad in favor of meticulous planning.

The days following his awakening as a Wendigo had been stressful. Once the initial shock had worn off, he found himself starving and what had smelled so succulent and delicious that he could probably eat all of it? Harry.

Upon realization that he might attack his father, Will demanded to be locked in the dungeons until he could learn to control himself.

Tom had already situated Abigail in her own cell, with a few things Transfigured in hopes of making the imprisonment more comfortable.

The dungeons were much colder than normal. Abigail was situated in the cell across from his, her skin was as black as his own, her body almost emaciated in appearance, every rib poking out and the vertebrae on her spine showed too much. Atop her head was a large rack of antlers that faced outward. Just as black as Will's with the tips a light shade of red.

Her hair had grown incredibly long, brushing against the floor of the cell as she walked. Will's own hair had grown as well, much scruffier than he normally grew it. Tuffs of hair had grown on their bodies. Around the ankles and wrists. From their collarbones. Their bones jutted out in deadly looking angles and points.

Their breath came out in large, white puffs that froze the bars of their cells when they got too close to breath on them. A small mist floated along the floor of the dungeons as a result.

They were the causes of the sudden drop in temperature. Since Wendigos were so rare, they weren't really taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts. No British wizards or witches really wanted to eat human flesh. The thought disgusted practically anyone. Therefore, the last Wendigo to roam the British Isles was over two hundred years ago. No one felt the need to warn against them since times were changing and no one would even consider eating another human.

The thought of a Pureblood having to subsist on a Muggleborn's flesh was kind of funny in a morbid sort of way.

Now he really wished he knew more about them besides the cannibalism and the changing.

Wendigo's had masterful control over the cold and while it was obviously cold, Will couldn't feel anything on his skin. His body was at the perfect temperature and Abigail hadn't once complained.

The poor House Elves could barely handle it and popped in and out of the dungeons quickly, only leaving entire bears - yes, they were eating bears because Harry didn't want them to eat deer - for the two Wendigos to devour.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor and both he and Abigail sat up straighter at the delicious scent wafting toward them. While the scent was welcome, the person it belonged to was not.

"Well, anything you both want to tell me?"

Tom was never going to let them live this down.

"I just don't understand how either of you could do it."

Abigail frowned, "My real dad… he was a serial killer. They called him the Minnesota Shrike. I… I helped him find the girls. They all looked like me, you see. I knew that I'd eventually be like them, but I had hoped I could stall until I went away to college. He said we honored them and left nothing to go to waste."

She sniffed, remembering her terror at finding hair in her favorite pillow.

"He used their bones for weapons, their hair for stuffing, their organs for food. Nothing went bad. We honored them.

And then Hannibal, when I found out who he really was, I promised not to tell and he kept me hidden and safe. We were going to surprise Will. I… I don't really mind the cannibalism. I still don't."

Tom's piercing crimson orbs trailed from her to Will. The older Wendigo stiffened only the slightest. "I hadn't known who he fully was until I was in prison. I played the game knowing full well what I was getting into and while the idea of eating people was disgusting, he is a chef. And now that I get them, his cannibal puns are funny."

Abigail couldn't withhold a snort and looked away when Tom's anger focused on her again.

The Slytherin Lord sighed, "While I'm disappointed in you both, I'm really not one to be judging anyone, as my darling husband has so graciously reminded me. Therefore, I will accept your words as they are and will help you fit back into society. I will also…" he seemed to struggle with the words, "-reserve judgment of Hannibal Lecter until I meet him personally."

Both Will and Abigail slumped in relief. Tom was being generous.

Which was short lived when one of Tom's prisoners was dumped in front of their cells, the succulent scent coming from him. In fact, they couldn't smell Tom at all. But all their attention was on the cowering man.

"Lesson One: Control," grinned Tom, looking too eager for the upcoming lesson.

Will whimpered.

A/N: Another is done!

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Chapter Text

A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter or Hannibal.

I have no beta.

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"Focus your magic on your human form."

"I can barely feel my magic. And I'm almost too hungry to pay attention."

Tom tsked, shooting a stinging hex at Will's chained up form. "Control yourself, William. Your magic is deep within you. You already have your skin color back to normal, now make the antlers, fangs, claws, and fur recede."

Will was hanging from the ceiling by his wrists. In front of him was a large mirror which was helping him determine the right amount of magic to use in order to change his appearance. It was much more difficult to use magic now that his magic had changed in essence.

Abigail wasn't struggling as much because she didn't have a magical core before being turned. After three weeks, she was already back to looking like a human, though her urges were as strong as his, keeping her locked in the dungeon still.

Another stinging hex to the left arse cheek had him concentrating more on the pain and less on the hunger. Tom was ruthless when it came to training and he did not hold anything back.

His magic was almost feral in a sense. It seemed wild and out of control. His magic was usually so calm and easy to manipulate, unlike his emotions, but now it didn't want to be controlled. It wanted to lash out at anything and everything in its path.

He latched onto that warmth inside and tried to enforce his will over it. Force it to bend to his desires and make the long fur that had sprouted from different areas on his body, recede. To sink back into his peachy flesh and obey his demands.

The collar of fur went first, shrinking in size, leaving only smooth skin behind. The tufts around his wrists and ankles came next. Finally, the little tail he'd gotten decided that it wished to remain outside of his body for the time being and his magic had slipped form his grasp, leaving him struggling to repress his animalistic body parts.

"Better," Tom complimented. He waved his hand, conjuring a pair of pants for Will so that his nudity didn't offend.

Will grumbled unhappily because he hated the trouble he was going through for being a Wendigo.

Damn Hannibal for making people taste delicious!

Hannibal Lecter sent his 'wife' a sweet smile. Bedelia had just foolishly removed the weapon from a head wound and now Sogliato was bleeding out on the table.

"You are becoming reckless," she stated with a frown. "You wish to draw them to you, but Will Graham is gone! It has been nearly eight months, Hannibal. You cannot keep pining over someone who doesn't want you."

The very utterance of those words ignited Hannibal's ire. He hated how she dared say such things. He hated it even more because she was right.

He missed Will.

Harry sent his husband a displeased look. "You are being too harsh on them."

"I am not," protested Tom. "I have a high level of expectation for my son and granddaughter. I am the same way when teaching the twins."

"Well your methods leave a lot to be desired," huffed the younger wizard. "I want them happy and healthy, yes, but pushing them too much won't make this go any faster. You need to give them time and encouragement. Stop hitting them with stinging hexes!"

"That is encouragement, It encourages them not to dilly dally!"

"Tom, not everyone is as good as you when it comes to tapping into their magic! And Will is having an even harder time. Let him rest!"

"It's been a month!"

"Yes, and we all have years ahead of us. No need to push them to exhaustion, especially when you have nothing better to do with yourself at present."

The two had been doing their very best since they'd awoken and Harry wanted his William back. It had to be so lonely down in the dungeons with only a moody teenager to speak with. Poor Will must have been driven 'round the twist by now with all the emotional upheaval!

"If you go gently with them from here on out, I will do you a favor," offered the younger wizard, hip cocked, stance challenging.

That caught his lover's attention. The Dark Lord regarded him lightly, eyes narrowed in consideration. "Anything I want?"

Harry nodded, getting where he was going.

"Anything."

Tom's answering smirk spoke wonders. "Then my love, we shall adjourn to our bedchambers."

Will must really appreciate all Harry did for him. Especially since Tom was fingering the flogger.

Abigail breathed the fresh air of the outside, glee filling her chest. She and Will had been down in the dungeons for nearly three months, trying to completely their 'Control Training'. She'd actually finished about a week before he did, but had decided to stay down there with him so that he wouldn't be lonely.

Also, she was still sort of using him as a buffer when around Tom. Tom was terrifying. He made Hannibal seem tame in comparison and Hannibal was a serial killer! Still, she had good instincts and something just told her that Tom was much worse than Hannibal would ever be, most likely. Being around him did unnerve her slightly.

Tom had released them to the property. They could go as far as the wards but no further. Tom had somehow programmed the wards as such and they would glow green and even shock them if they got too close. It was to make sure that they didn't pass them and end up hunting the nearest muggle they scented.

Harry had taken them aside and explained that he did not want them killing innocent people while living under his roof. It was okay to kill and eat murderers, rapists, molesters, and abusers, but none of the others would he be happy about. When they finally found Hannibal again, she was sure that he wouldn't be too thrilled with the restrictions imposed on them by someone he didn't know. But then again, they probably wouldn't still be living with Harry and Tom by then. Hannibal was very independent after all.

And Hannibal killed those he believed deserved it. His reasons were a little too ridiculous at some times, but they felt justified in his mind.

She just hoped that they'd finally be able to reunite, she and Will would be able to explain everything in time.

Tom seemed ready to tear Hannibal a new one and she hoped to warn him before that inevitable meeting.

Will breathed in deeply. He was a Wendigo now. He already came to grips with the fact that he would need to eat people in order to stay alive. He also understood that he'd be alive for quite a long time.

But just because it was the way to survive, did not mean that he was eating human meat raw! Hell bloody no!

Will was not a chef or even a decent cook. If it wasn't anything that lived in the water, he was not good at cooking it. He could make potions easily, but put him in front of a packet of chicken breasts and he wouldn't know the first thing to do.

Abigail was like his saving grace. She had spent enough time with Hannibal while in hiding and had learned several cooking tips and tricks from the man.

They were allowed use of the kitchen, but had to purchase their own crockery and wares because harry refused to have his antique silverware tainted by human flesh, cooked or not. And Will hadn't minded because Harry had been extremely lenient over everything that had happened recently and for housing them until they were capable of venturing outside the wards, he would do as the older man asked of him.

Tom went and fetched them their first meal. He merely secreted away the budding killer and left him in the dungeon. Abigail then had Will petrify him and began to teach him how to extract proper meat, telling him what was okay and what they should avoid. She showed him various cuts and hand movements that would make the severing of the meat easier.

Yes. For cannibalistic Dark creatures, they were of a refined sort. They would not sink to the lows that other Wendigos had. With the likes of Tom and Harry on their side, they'd learn how to navigate the world and never get caught.

Anthony Dimmond reminded him of Will so much. Appearance alone had reminded Hannibal of his darling profiler. He felt angry. Angry at the man for daring to look anything like Hannibal's most precious person! Angry that no matter what he did, everything in his life reminded him of Will. It was like he had lost a part of himself when he and Will separated. He could barely survive without Will in his life.

He didn't even know where Will and Abigail were though. He couldn't just leave to go see them. It had been nearly a year since he'd last see his dear mongoose and daughter and Hannibal was willing to admit that he was lonely.

Bedelia had outlived her use. She was dull. Boring. She lacked the ability to kept him on his toes. She wasn't intriguing. She wasn't captivating. She wasn't unpredictable. She wasn't Will.

Hannibal smiled charmingly at the man who sat across from him, completely unaware of the danger he was in.

Yes, Hannibal would express himself in the only way he could think of.

"You want to go to Italy?"

Will hadn't even considered beginning their travelling once again, but Abigail did want to see all the magical communities and he had promised to take her.

They'd been doing well and if at any time they had to retreat, they could go back to his home. Harry's gift may just come in handy. Though they'd have to prep the manor and inform the House Elves to get everything up and running once again.

The manor was located in the region of Tuscany and was right on the coast, in Pisa.

It was a beautiful, four story building with a large hedge maze situated directly in front. The manor was managed year round and was never left to disrepair. It was nice, though Will had never had need of it until now.

"I guess we could Floo over to the manor next week if you'd like."

Abigail beamed. "Great! I have to go to the Ministry with Harry tomorrow to sit for my W.O.M.B.A.T. exam and once I pass, I'll be allowed to purchase more ingredients on my own!"

The W.O.M.B.A.T exam was what was used for people who wished to attain citizenship in Magical Britain. Abigail had to take it before she was allowed to become a citizen or get a wand. And she wouldn't need to explain why she didn't have a wand, just say that it was broken and no spells could repair it.

"Then I guess we should plan our itinerary out now."

The results of Abigail's exam came nearly a week later, informing her of her grades of the three parts of the test. She received and Outstanding on the first two parts and a Exceeds Expectations on the third part. Will didn't fault her, the third part was really difficult. He remembered when Tom told him of some of the questions for it when he had to take it. It sounded like hell.

But Tom was the one to coach the young Wendigo in preparation for her exam so he wasn't shocked that she had done so well. He'd always hated written exams. Practicals had always been the best. He and Harry learned better with practicals than with theory.

"Now I can file for citizenship and when we come back, I will have no doubt received the acceptance letter!"

He was proud of her for doing so well. Soon she may even be apprenticed to a Master of Potions. She slready lived with two.

"What's going on?"

Abigail's well placed query got the attention of some fellow tourists. The blonde woman in the group, leaned in and whispered, "Apparently, they found a dead body in the chapel. The authorities have sectioned off that part of the building and no one can go in."

The brunette nodded her understanding and thanked the woman, moving to tell Will what she had learned.

He was staring at a flight of stairs and motioned for her to follow him. Silently, they cut through the crowd and ascended to a higher level. She followed him along a rather deserted corridor with several iron workings in the walls that gave a small view into the chapel.

They each took a little window and peered down into the madness below.

Abigail could hear Will's startled gasp and she looked over with curiosity as well as worry. Will looked stricken, as if someone had just killed one of his dogs.

"It's Hannibal," he whispered hoarsely.

Her head whipped around to stare into the room. It was a red stump of flesh, propped up by three swords. She didn't really see what was so Hannibalesque about it, and ended up asking, "How?"

"Symbolism," muttered Will, eyes blinking furiously. "He made a human heart, out of a human being. He then pierced the heart with three swords, in reference to the tarot card, Three of Swords. The card itself usually deals with trouble, like forceful rejection and a lot of pain, maybe a relationship that has been broken apart by heartbreak or betrayal. An upside down card can show loneliness, reconciliation, sadness, a desire to move on and mend that which is broken, eventual recovery. Usually in the relationship section, it can either mean repressing feelings of hurt or reconciling with the one you're in a broken relationship with."

Abigail could understand now. It had been a year since they'd last seen Hannibal. A year since the betrayal. Hannibal was apparently not taking it well. Much like Will.

"He misses you," insisted the young Wendigo.

The pained look on Will's face told her enough and she took him by the arm, leading him back down the corridor. "Maybe we can go visit Rome today. We'll come back another time, when we can actually go into the chapel."

Hannibal was close. She could feel it.

Hannibal had a deep fixation on Italy, Palermo and Florence in particular. She just needed to get them to explore the various sights around the country and eventually, they'd meet Hannibal.

They just had to.

"Is that a smart idea? Wouldn't the Muggles find them this way?"

Will laughed, his attention diverted once again from his thoughts of Hannibal. They were walking along the cobblestone streets of Rome. It was evening and they were about to visit the Colosseum.

Apparently, on one night every month, the ancient amphitheatre was overtaken by Italian magicals - with permission from their Muggle counterparts of course - and the entire building was sectioned off with wards that prevented Muggles from getting too close.

The moment they got within distance, they'd find themselves going in a different direction, with their plans changed and their heads just a little fuzzy.

It was like a small festival, or a better version of Diagon Alley.

Inside, they discovered it was much like the stalls along the streets of the Bahamian Magical Strip. People selling their wares, music being played loudly with magicals dancing in whatever space they were currently inhabiting. People talking, eating, enjoying each other's company.

Games, food, sweets, it was nice.

"I think there's more to the set up than whatever the charmed flyer had listed," he mumbled. "It's so loud here that they'd need a lot of charms in order to keep the Muggles unaware."

She nodded, her attention already snagged on a stall that was selling scarves. While she'd been stuck wearing them for a while because of her scars, she eventually had come to love them and wanted to start a collection, purchasing one from at least each country she'd been to. She was excited, the tangy sweetness startling Will into full wakefulness.

While the girl busied herself with trying on the different colors available, Will's mind went back to the thought of Hannibal. Hannibal had been in the Norman Chapel around the time Will and Abigail were.

Will's mind brought him back to a conversation they'd had, the day before the fiasco. Hannibal was explaining his memory palace and the construction of it to Will. Explaining how the foyer was modeled after the chapel with only an engraved skull on the floor to tell the difference between them.

Hannibal loved Italy. He contributed a big part of who he was, to the country itself.

Hannibal would have loved the Colosseum when the magicals took over. Art vendors, and food, and the appreciation of ancient history would have drawn him in.

Will sighed. These thoughts of Hannibal, the revelation of the heart, being in Italy, it was all too much at once.

"Will! Does this look good with my hair?"

He smiled positively - or at least he hoped he did - and gave his adopted daughter a nod. She looked good in red.

He left Will his broken heart. And Will would most likely never see it. Probably the greatest of all his masterpieces and yet no one of great import would see it.

Botticelli would at the very least, calm his emotions. He'd always loved the Primavera.

And if he was replacing every face with Will's own while he sketched his own rendition of the great work, there was nothing wrong with that.

Will found himself assaulted - more like Abigail was just really excited and grabbed him suddenly, but it was enough to terrify him for a moment - by the young brunette as she popped out of a doorway, excitement making her face come alive and her emotions tangy.

"Hannibal's here," she said lowly, making every muscle in his body freeze in place.

Was he even ready to confront the man yet?

"Will, can you make me intangible?"

"What?!" he whispered in shock, looking around for wherever Hannibal was supposed to be while trying to understand what she was asking him.

"I'm going to levitate myself and pretend to float around him, going through the walls and such."

Will's panicking ceased for a moment so that he could appreciate the deviousness behind such a prank. Harry would be proud with it. He'd be very proud.

"Such a spell is very advanced Transfiguration, changing the solidity of an object, and if it's done wrong it can hurt you in the end. I think our magic is too riled and uncontrolled to do that yet."

Her shoulders sagged, before popping up again. "Is there a spell to let you walk into paintings?"

"Yes. It's considered Dark Arts though."

"Do it, please?!"

"Just… don't ruin anything!" he said, waving his wand very carefully around her form, murmuring the Gaelic words that Tom had taught him years ago. Now this wasn't so difficult, but it was illegal in Britain. He also wouldn't know how to fix anything if she somehow ruined an old piece of art.

Abigail stepped back and pushed her hand against a nearby painting, grinning mischievously as her hand passed into it. "This is awesome!"

She dived right into the work of art and turned to wave happily at Will. "Thanks! Hannibal is with the Primavera," said the girl, pointing him in the appropriate direction.

Will followed along, watching as she slipped from painting to painting.

The room wasn't very large, but there was a bench provided for viewing pleasure. Seated on that bench, leaning over a sketchpad, was none other than Hannibal Lecter. He who Will hadn't expected to see again, though he'd wanted to.

Will remained by the doorway, watching as Hannibal occasionally looked up to see if he was sketching the work correctly. The third time, the man did a double take, finally noticing the new figure that had joined Venus in the Primavera.

Abigail was bowing to the woman and asking her to dance.

Hannibal shook his head a few times as if trying to dislodge something. Abigail flitted about the painting, twirling by Mercury and skipping into the next painting, Hannibal's head following her movements.

With a deep breath - and minutely cataloging Hannibal's delicious scent while doing so - Will stalked forward, noticing how Hannibal's back stiffened at the sound of his approaching footsteps. Will rounded the bench, meeting Hannibal's eyes just as the man cut a quick look in his direction. That look froze in place as those eyes widened at the sight of him. Shock, like the tartness of a lemon, assaulted Will's tongue.

Will seated himself beside the man and gave him a smile.

"It's good to see you," he said quietly, voice nearly choked with emotion. He was happy. Happy to see Hannibal again after so long. Seeing Hannibal was like a balm to his soul.

Hannibal's attention was fully on Will now, as he looked his friend over from head to toe. "If I saw you everyday, forever Will, I would remember this time."

The words simultaneously hurt and healed. They smoothed over his old wounds and seemed to crack open new ones. How could he have ever doubted that Hannibal cared for him? It was as plain as the day, boldly written across Hannibal's features.

Will's gaze lowered to Hannibal's chest. Very carefully, he reached out, cautious of Hannibal's defenses, and placed his palm over the man's heart. Burgundy and Cobalt eyes met, and Will smiled again.

"Not so broken after all."

Will was struck hard by the sudden force of Hannibal's emotions, just swamping him. It was like being enveloped in a warm, fuzzy hug. All the positive emotion in Hannibal's feelings for him pulled at him, as if begging him to come closer.

He exhaled a breath of shock, unable to process it all at once. Emotions were so much clearer now. And Hannibal's overflowed from him and into Will, begging for his attention. Pleading with him to return the same amount of devotion.

Hannibal really loved him.

He adored that realization.

"You saw," said Hannibal, his words easily understood by the former professor.

Will nodded, "It was beautiful. Your most beautiful creation yet."

And Hannibal breathed deeply then, relief lancing through his emotions and causing his shoulders to slump a little.

"You left. I read it on TattleCrime. You moved away."

Without internet, Will hadn't even considered a computer in the last year. He'd forgotten all about Freddie Lounds.

"We did leave," he agreed. "We primarily live in Wales right now. Currently we're staying at my manor in Pisa."

Hannibal's brow quirked with interest. Firstly at the sharp accent Will had and second, at the mention of a manor. Will had never mentioned anything about his real life so Hannibal must have been confused that meek and subtle Will Graham would even buy himself a manor and not another farmhouse.

Before either could say anything more, a worried voice called for his attention.

"Will!"

Both Hannibal and Will recognized the voice and were on their feet at the urgent fear laced within it. They turned to the doorway, to find Abigail in the arms of a greasy looking man, who was holding a wand to her throat. He smelled terrible and Will wouldn't eat him even if he were the last human on the planet.

"Hello, brother," the man greeted Will, eyes narrowed and lips twisted in a sneer.

It was Waldo Macnair, his blood brother. And the man was feeling smug.

Merlin dammit!

A/N: Another is done!

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Chapter Text

A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Harry Potter or Hannibal.

I have no beta.

ENJOY!

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"As I recall quite clearly, your father disowned me and then had you throw me from the premises!" said Will, eyes alight with burning anger and hurt that had never truly gone away. "I was abandoned in the middle of winter with nothing but the clothes on my back."

Seriously, only being able to illegally Apparate and the barman of the Leaky Cauldron had saved him from dying during those few days.

Will could feel Hannibal's confusion at the conversation, but his annoyance was slowly rising. Whether it be on Will's behalf or because their time was cut short by someone Will obviously didn't like, he didn't know.

Waldo shifted, his discomfort visible even without Will's Empathy working in his favor. He kept the wand held to Abigail's throat, hand in her hair to keep her in place. Will wanted to snap that hand in half.

"Father was caught and thrown in prison for being faithful, but they found more evidence to convict him with. His lordship was stripped from him before he could name an heir and according to Gringotts, he never disowned you legally, meaning until you or I assume lordship, no one can get into the wards of the family manors."

And suddenly it all made perfect sense. Will's lips pulled into a dangerous smile and he fixed his former brother with his understanding look. "Your father broke the law by abandoning one of his heirs. He didn't even follow the legal channels and since I'm still the other Heir Apparent, you and I have to fight for the lordship rights. Meaning if I kill you, I will become Lord of the Macnairs! Oh, this is just precious!"

Waldo's grip on his wand tightened, eyes wide with his obvious panic. "Now we don't need to talk about death, one of us just has to beat the other in a duel until they can't fight any longer!"

"But it'll be me because the moment you become Lord, you'd disown me for real," Will pointed out.

"You're a blood traitor!"

"I am not, you moron! I'm an Empath, of course I'm not going to like the roiling emotions of children being tortured in my school! Also, I just don't care about people in general."

And Waldo was suddenly quiet, fear creeped into his emotions like a spider, digging its way in and staying. "Then you-"

"I was a perfectly innocent child that your father abandoned in the middle of winter. And who should take me in? Who was the one to save me? Why, the very man we were taught was our enemy. And he married the son of your Master, who also adopted me! And now look at where you are. You and your father brought this on yourselves. Don't expect any pity from me because you won't get any."

Merlin, Will loved rubbing their failures in their faces. It made him feel vindicated. To know that his former family had broken the law so severely and were now suffering because of it. They deserved every moment of pain. Every moment of suffering, being unable to access the family manors because the wards wouldn't let them in.

Children were supposed to be important in the wizarding world, but so often were they disowned for 'betraying the blood' or for being born without magic. Basically, you were only a 'precious gift' if you were Pureblooded and had magic. Will hated that kind of thinking. It disgusted him and made him feel ashamed about sharing his blood status with other people because there was nothing to be proud about.

"So, brother mine," sneered Will, "what will you do now?"

And Waldo stiffened in fear. He'd never been a good student. Wasn't really talented at magic either. In fact, Waldo had always been the pathetic one and Will had been the prodigy. Until Will's 'betrayal' that is. Waldo did not hold enough skill or power to kill Will and Will wondered why he even bothered coming after his former brother if he knew he'd most likely get killed in the process. This was like committing suicide, unless he believed all that rubbish about blood traitors being weaker and dumber.

"Abigail."

The young woman met his gaze resolutely. She didn't seem all that fearful and Will could understand why. She knew that physically, she had the upper hand against the man holding her hostage.

"Break his wand arm."

Reaching up before Waldo could even respond to the order, the young woman grasped his forearm and gave a rough twist. At the same time, Will threw up some Anti-Apparition wards and a silencing charm. Waldo's scream of pain went unheard by the rest of the people in the gallery.

"Accio wand!"

Waldo's fallen wand soared right into Will's outstretched hand.

"Well done," smiled the Wendigo, feeling Abigail's pleasure at having done well. She skipped on over to his and Hannibal's sides, keeping away from her crazed uncle who was sniveling over his wrecked arm.

"So, Waldo, do you know Italy's laws?"

The man barely paid him any attention, but Will wasn't offended. After all, it was what he had to say next that was important and if Waldo missed it, then it was no skin off his nose.

"The Dark Arts are legal in Italy and I am currently residing in Pisa. You won't be dying for a while, brother mine."

Will snapped his fingers and called, "Bella!"

The Head Elf appeared, startling both Abigail and Hannibal.

"What can Bella bes doing for Master William?" the Elf asked, her wide, blue eyes steady and inquisitive.

"Mr. Macnair will be joining us. Please give him the coldest and wettest cell in the dungeons. Feed him only water and bread, nothing more."

The Elf gave a bow and snapped her fingers, binding the fallen wizard and tsking at him. "Bella bes doing as Master commands. Naughty wizard offending the Master," she frowned, smacking Waldo upside the head.

The two disappeared with a loud pop, leaving the two Wendigos and their human behind.

"Will, what is going on?" Hannibal finally asked, disbelief and confusion all over him. His emotions were riled up and his face was actually unguarded. He also looked extremely old in that moment.

The two creatures shared a look and nodded. "Things have changed," Abigail said. "A lot."

"In our lives," amended Will. "We haven't changed all that much."

"She snapped his arm with a simple twist of her hand," said the blond blandly.

"Well, physically we've changed but emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and psychologically, we are still the same people you know."

"What… was that creature?"

"A House Elf," Abigail beamed. "They're very nice and know how to do anything! Of course they get angry when we try to cook our own food, but that's only because they claim it's their duty to take care of their masters and not the other way around. Will had to bargain with them in order to get anywhere."

Hannibal's gaze lowered to Waldo's wand, which was hanging light from Will's palm. "The wand? You called it a wand and it flew across the room and into your hand."

"Magic," said Will.

Hannibal looked between he and Abigail. Hs emotions ranged from disbelief to cold, hard acceptance. He didn't really want to believe it but Hannibal wasn't the type to dismiss something so obvious.

"Magic is real and you both can use it?"

Abigail winced and gave a shrug. "Will was the wizard, I just got lucky.

Will scoffed, remembering what had happened and feeling like luck had absolutely nothing to do with it. Because it didn't.

Out of nowhere, Hannibal dropped to the floor, his body ceasing all movement. Out of the back of his neck rested a red dart.

Abigail bent down to check on him as she murmured a curse. Will was able to see the dart that had approached her, but was unable to stop it from landing.

Cursing as well, he shoved both his wand and Waldo's wand into the barely conscious girl's palm. Something sharp hit his shoulder, but all it did was blur his vision some. Abigail was trying to move, but her movements were sluggish at best. Another dart struck her above the right shoulder, making her fall limp instantly.

Will pulled the Portkey from his pocket and shoved it into her free hand while yelling, "Belladonna!"

Abigail disappeared from view, the wands going with her.

Several more darts landed on his chest and Will winced as his body went numb. He couldn't feeling anything and his vision was dimming. He was falling and falling, but he couldn't feel the landing.

Harry and Tom paused in what they were doing, because the fireplace in their personal lounge was ringing nonstop.

Sighing, Harry got off the bed, slipping his dressing gown on in order to cover his nudity. Someone always managed to interrupt just when he and Tom were getting raunchy.

Kneeling in front of the fire, Harry tossed a handful of Floo Powder into the flames and watched as they turned from orange to green.

"Hello?"

"Master Harry?" came a squeaky voice.

It was the Head House Elf of the Pisa Manor.

"Hello, Bella. What's the matter?"

"Master Harry, it bes horrible! Mistress Abigail appeared in the front stoop but she's not bes moving! Magics won't work on her! And wes don't know where Master William bes at!"

Harry's former annoyance washed away, replaced with worry for his son. "She is alive though, right?"

"Odette bes saying her breathing is low. Wes do not know what to do, sir!"

"Bella, I need you to open the connection for me, okay. I'm coming through."

"Right away, Master Harry!"

Harry dashed back to the bedroom, casting a regretful glance Tom's way.

"Something happened to Abby, Will is nowhere to be found. Magic isn't working according to the Elves."

And just like that, Tom was also getting ready. While Harry fixed himself up, Tom summoned one of the Elves and asked them to watch the boys until they returned.

Once the two cleared the Floo, they found themselves standing in a familiar room, knowing they traveled all the way to Italy in only seconds. Interconnecting Floos between their homes was a smart idea.

Bella was already waiting for them, asking them to follow her to Abigail's chosen room. Abigail rested on the bed, looking perfectly healthy, but even in her strange sleep, her breathing was abnormally heavy.

"Wes found these sticking out of her back!" squeaked Odette, holding out two red darts.

"Tranquilizer darts?" murmured the younger wizard, confused. Wizards didn't know a thing about those and unless they were a muggleborn, would of course never use them when a good curse was better.

So either they were faced with a Muggleborn or a Muggle enemy. The possibility of it being one of either Abigail's, Will's, or Hannibal's enemies was much too high, leaving him with no answers and building frustration!

"And you cannot find Will?"

The Elves shook their heads. "His magic bes very quiet."

"Then he must be sleeping very deeply, meaning he was probably hit with the same weapons," Tom remarked, looking over one of the darts. "I will have to brew a potion to completely clean her system of foreign substances, but that could take nearly a whole day."

"Do it! I want to find my son!"

Bella stepped forward, her wide eyes teary, but her countenance firm. "If Masters would like to know, Master William called Bella to his side mere moments before Mistress Abigail appeared."

"What happened, Bella?"

"Master and Mistress were with a blond, Muggle man and Master's brother. Bella was told to bring the traitorous brother here and place him in the worst dungeon cell until Master returns to deal with him. Master and Mistress had gone to Florence to see the arts today."

Harry and Tom shared a look. Harry turned back to Bella and asked, "Did the blond man with Will and Abby, have sharp cheekbones?"

The Elf nodded.

"So Il Mostro returned to Florence and Will and Abby met up with him. But for some reason, I don't think he was the cause of this. How would one Muggle manage to transport two unconscious bodies on his own, without raising alarms or at least questions?"

Tom huffed, obviously not wanting to give Hannibal Lecter the benefit of the doubt. Harry sent him a quelling look and continued his thoughts.

"Abigail was attacked with darts, which most likely meant Will had been too. So if magic didn't work to wake them up, they'd either have to wake up normally, or use potions. Once awakened, their magic would finally be able to function normally again.

Tom, get brewing on that potion. I'm going to see if I can pick up any sort of trace on Will's magical signature. Bella, could you take me to the room Will summoned you to?"

With that, the husband's separated after a shared kiss, both with their specific duties in mind.

They'd find their son and quite possibly, his lover as well.

Will's head was throbbing. He blinked, feeling like shite. As if someone had hit him over the head with a cast iron skillet.

Looking around at the room he was in, Will realized that he wasn't in a room, he was in a truck. A truck that was moving. He was also dangling upside down and beside him, was none other than Hannibal Lecter.

"Hannibal?"

The man did not respond, his breathing much slower than normal, meaning that he was still unconscious. They'd been attacked by unknown assailants and knocked out. Merlin, he was so angry with himself for not sensing anything out of the ordinary.

What sort of Empath was he?

The ride continued on for a while and Will's advanced hearing allowed him to guess just when Hannibal would be cognizant enough for intelligent conversation.

It was three hours after Will had awoken, that Hannibal finally graced the living world with his presence.

"You okay?" Will asked in a low whisper.

"I am… a mite uncomfortable," the man admitted.

Will snorted. "Tell me about it. The blood has rushed to my head and I will have a pounding headache for hours after this."

"I also may have an idea of just where we are and who we are going to meet."

"Who?"

"Can you not smell the pork?" Hannibal asked, a teasing light in his tone.

"I smell you the strongest, but I didn't really know what else was in here. I can see long, dark shapes, but nothing more."

"I believe…" grunted Hannibal, "that we are about to see dear old Mason again."

Will groaned. "We're with the pigs."

When Hannibal merely hummed in agreement, Will cursed. "I had left America because I wanted to avoid all this bloody drama! To get the hell away from these fucking twats and pretend none of them ever existed."

"Will, why do you have an English accent?"

Shite.

"Well… let's just say that I was born in England and that I'm from a French family that moved to Britain to be closer to what they perceived to be a better school for the family to attend. I am not from America… or Louisiana. I figured that was a good state to be from so I could get away with my random, French outbursts."

There was silence for the span of a moment. "Does that mean that everything you told me about your past was a lie?"

"Pretty much," Will shrugged. "I feel no guilt because you lied about a lot of shite as well, or shall I enumerate for you? Besides, my lying was in accordance with a law that can't be broken. You lied because you like to fuck with people's feelings."

"The law?"

"The Statue of Secrecy prevents people without magic, from learning about it, unless they have a direct family member or spouse who is involved. If you found out back then, the American Ministry would have sent an Obliviator to erase your memories and would have entered your mind to rearrange them around. Of course had they found anything incriminating against you, they would have simply dropped you off at the proper station and you would have been arrested.

Don't forget that should the government decide to take you away, they can. And they can tell anyone what they want about you, if they so desire, in order to get away with it."

So in a way, Will had totally saved Hannibal arse.

"Hm."

Hannibal grunted lightly as he was placed in a seat at the lavishly decorated table. Three men had been charged with dressing him in a wonderful, three piece suit for the upcoming dinner, leaving him properly prepared for the meal.

Will was sat to his left, looking annoyed.

Mason Verger was seated at the other end of the table. His face had gone through extensive surgery in order to return his looks to a somewhat normal appearance. He was also confined to a wheelchair because Hannibal snapping his neck had caused back problems.

Will was silent during Hannibal and Mason's conversation, though it seemed that Mason didn't consider Will to be a threat in the least. Hannibal knew that was foolish and not just because he had recently learned that Will had magic and could do who knows what with it.

Will was Hannibal's equal, so of course he would be capable of the same, terrifying beauty that Hannibal had accomplished in the past.

Will's mind was breathtaking and Hannibal longed to see it put to work.

"Mr. Graham looks a little dry," drawled Mason.

Will's eyes narrowed on Cordell. When the man leaned in to dab at Will's face with a moist towelette, Will lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the man's cheek and tearing away the corpulent flesh that rested there.

The man backed away, screaming as he held his face in his hands. Hannibal's attention was on Will though.

Dear Will spat out the piece of meat, directly onto his plate, but what was visible behind the blood dripping form his lips, was what caused Hannibal to freeze in place.

Will had fangs. Not the typical vampire fangs that children wore for days like Hallowe'en. No, every single one of his teeth were long and sharpened into a point. Hannibal had seen his teeth not an hour ago and they hadn't looked like that.

"Oh, God!" Mason said, ironically enough. "You're one of those… magicals!"

Will's eyes focused on Mason, but from the where he sat, Hannibal could see the red seeping into those blue orbs. Will's skin began to bleed black and his hair darkened, growing past his shoulders.

Will disappeared from his chair, a small pop following him.

In the far corner, Hannibal's eyes latched onto a shadowed figure, with piercing red eyes. The lights in the room burst completely, and the candles went out. A chill flowed over them all, making even Hannibal shiver.

A mist rose from the floor, shining in the moonlight just barely coming in through the drawn curtains.

The creature in the corner stepped closer and closer, until it's form was illuminated in the moonlight. Tall, black as pitch, and demonic in appearance. Hannibal could make out the antlers on it's head, the claws on its hands, the sharp fangs protruding from the beastly face.

Distantly, he could hear Mason beginning to scream, but Hannibal only had eyes for the creature.

It was terrifying, but so beautiful. The growl that slipped from the being made the hairs on his body stand on end, especially when a puff of white air burst from the mouth and frosted the window over.

Mason's was moving away from the table, but the motorized chair was in no way capable of helping him outrun any kind of attacker.

The creature lunged, its body sailing through the air in order to pounce on the Verger Head.

Mason died, unable to scream as his throat had been torn out savagely, leaving him to bleed out on the marble floor of his dining room. The creature turned to the chef and dismembered him without even looking at him, because those red eyes were staring into Hannibal's soul.

Hannibal stiffened, watching carefully. He may have been strapped to a chair, but he did have a knife on hand and even Hannibal could turn a butter knife into a weapon. Appreciation aside, he was a survivalist first and foremost.

The creature's head tilted, eyes looking over Hannibal. It stepped around the table, it's unnatural legs reminding him of a satyr, while the torso looked very much like a human male's chest, but the rib cage was too prominent. The head was like a deer/human mixture, and the antlers left him confused.

Hannibal knew folklore, myths, and legends very well, having found all of them fascinating. He had only read of one creature that resembled what stood before him.

Wendigo.

A creature that consumed human flesh.

The being was right beside him now, face dangerously close to Hannibal's as it proceeded to… nuzzle his cheek.

Clawed hands reached up and grabbed the belt keeping Hannibal in place. The metal belt was snapped in half easily, freeing the man from his prison.

Another nuzzle to his cheek and a small whine.

"Will?" Hannibal ventured with uncertainty.

"Hannibal."

His voice was guttural, almost incoherent, but Hannibal understood.

"Will, can you turn back?"

The creature - who was definitely Will - backed away and began to shrink in size, no longer monstrously tall. The skin returned to the creamy paleness Hannibal was used to. The antlers seemed to melt into the hair that was once again short and curly.

The only difference from before, was that Will was naked.

"I was angry," the man murmured as Hannibal stood. "I… didn't like how he was talking to you. It bothered me."

"It bothered you, how someone else claimed that I was theirs and they were going to eat me?" asked the doctor, reveling in the fact that Will still cared for him in some ways.

"Because you're mine, Hannibal."

Without hesitation, Hannibal wrapped an arm around Will's waist and pulled the man into a tight embrace. He sighed at the pleasant feeling of Will holding him in return. Willingly.

"While this is absolutely adorable, we need to get rid of the evidence."

Hannibal stiffened at the unfamiliar voice and both he and Will looked up, finding a familiar man standing in the doorway of the room.

While Will seemed to brighten immensely, Hannibal stomach dropped.

It was the man from the photos. The one he didn't want to ever meet.

"Father!"

And he was Will's father.

A/N: Another is done!

How was it? Let me know!

Check out my other Hannigram and Tomarry/Harrymort fics!

See ya! :D

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.