I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own X-men.

Creme de la Creme

There is someone at the gates. A mutant. I cannot get a read on him, but he does not appear to be armed, aside from a knife.

The mental communication from Charles Xavier was sent specifically to Logan, Hank McCoy, and Ororo Munroe. These were the best to handle the initial stages of any encounter, be it hostile or diplomatic. Charles met them at the front door, a young Scott Summers was with him, there for the experience. To see how it was done.

The small group approached the gate. Standing behind it, waving one hand casually was a young man in a black sweater with the hood up to hide his face. He was carrying a green duffel bag over his shoulder and was wearing a pair of desert camo, military fatigues and boots. The sleeve was rolled back on his right arm, showing a series of leather wraps from his wrist up, a pale hand and a golden ring with a large ruby set into it on his middle finger.

Most prominent to Storm, however, was the knife on his left hip. The pommel was made of some kind of bone, or ivory. There were two opals set into the base, carved and painted to make them look like they were entwined. The blade was long and curved.

Ororo had one just like it on a pedestal in her room.

Before Charles could even make an attempt at diplomacy, clouds quickly gathered in the sky, thunder rolled and the woman stalked forward, hands to her sides, crackling with barely restrained electricity.

"There are three people allowed to wield one of those knives in my presence," Storm announced, "Show your face before I decided that you are not one of them."

"No need for the theatrics, luv," the voice came out smooth and decidedly british. The hand with the ring summoned into it a ball of white, visibly cold material, "You should cool your head." He tossed it over the gate.

Wolverine, Logan, moved like lightning, cutting the object in half before it even came close to the woman. His frown turned into one of confusion when he smelled what it was he just cut in half.

"Ice cream?"

Storm halted and blinked in confusion. The clouds receded and a beautiful smile spread across her face.

"Bastard," she said, "Theatrics? Pot meet kettle," she crossed her arms under her bust and said, "Relax, Logan, he's a threat, but not to us. Let him in."

"What?" the gruff man asked.

"To be fair," the man said, his tone amused, "I did ring the bell."

"Who are you?" Scott demanded, regardless of Storm's approval.

The man pulled down his hood revealing a head of untameable black hair, almost glowing green eyes, a lightning bolt scar on his brow, and a lion fang necklace.

"He's my husband," Ororo said, just before embracing him. They did not kiss, or do anything more suggestive, they just held onto one another, enjoying the warmth and smell of one another.

After a solid minute of hugging one another, they separated, though they still held hands.

"My name is Freakshow Munroe," the man said, "My friends and family," here he squeezed Ororo's hand, "call me Harry."

+-9009-+

After an hour or so, in which Harry and Ororo showered together, the group, plus the current students of the institute, were gathered in the kitchen. Harry was cooking while explaining about how he came to activate his powers and how it lead to him meeting Storm.

"Well, it started when I was six, you see," he said, "I lived with my relatives, the Dumples, or something like that. Honestly, I've forgotten. Anyway, one day, my cousin Diddy was getting an ice cream cone and I wasn't allowed to have one. I think I must have been a bad kid when I was that age," the black haired man shrugged, "I was always getting locked in the cupboard under the stairs and sent to bed without that weeks dinner," he ignored the gasps people usually had when he explained these things, "Back to it, Diddy got ice cream and I didn't. I wanted it so bad I wanted to scream. Then, like magic, there was a ball of vanilla and chocolate ice cream the size of my head floating in front of me and my relatives. Best tasting ice cream ever, I tell ya."

"Okay, we have a few, rather serious, questions about some of the stuff you mentioned and about that," Kitty Pryde said.

'That' was Ororo Munroe, his loving wife sitting at the end of the table closest to the stove, watching him fondly, not even looking at any of the others at the table. She was so intent on taking in everything about her husband that she hardly blinked.

"Ah," Harry smiled, "I'll get to that in a bit.

"So, I had just summoned some ice cream out of thin air, in the middle of a park, and immediately, people started shouting about me being a 'Mutie' and 'Freak'. At the time I had wondered how they knew my name, Freak, but I was rather naive back then. My relatives took me home as soon and as quick as was publicly acceptable and locked me in the cupboard under the stairs, saying I wasn't to make a sound for the next twenty four hours or they would take me to the orphanage. I always thought that would be even worse than staying with the Dumples, so I did my best not to make a sound.

"I did, however, play around with my new power. I discovered some things that I make use of to this day," he gestured with a hand and, right before Wolverine a brown ball of ice cream dropped down gently on his plate. Harry casually tossed a spoon over his shoulder and it landed, tip down, in the top of the ball. "Go ahead," he urged with an audible grin, "Try it."

Wolverine grumbled for a moment, looked to Charles, got a nod from the man, then lifted the spoon to his mouth. To his wonder, the ice cream wasn't sweet at all. It was, in fact, savory. It tasted just like beef jerky.

"I can make, control, flavor and color the stuff however I want. You've never seen a warlord more pissed off than when he wakes up one morning to find out his entire fortress has been covered in quickly melting rotten banana and dead grasshopper flavored ice cream," the teens were rather surprised when this image earned a giggle from Ororo Munroe.

"Back at the Dumples, the next morning, as they let me out to make them breakfast, I darted past Uncle Vroomin and shot out close to two tons of booger flavored ice cream, half burying them. I then ran away, snuck onto a plane and went to Africa. Specifically to Cairo, Egypt."

"So, that's how you and Aunty O met?" Evan, Spike, asked, looking between the two.

"Yep," the man nodded, "I had just made my way out of the airport and into the merchant quarter. I was eating some green apple ice cream and saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen to that point," Ororo began to blush prettily, "Then this white haired, scrawny street rat runs up and steals her purse."

"Hey!" the normally composed woman almost whined, standing up in a huff and practically striking a pose, "I am not scrawny!"

"No, Luv," Harry said, turning around to rake his eyes lecherously over her well defined body, "You are most certainly not." Once more Ororo blushed and practically melted into her seat from the compliment.

"Gag me with a spoon," Rogue, the gothic mutant girl, groaned.

"So, the most beautiful girl in the world had just robbed the most beautiful woman," the mutant continued, "And she was running right at me. I did the smart thing when seeing a skinny street urchin stealing from an adult," he turned around briefly to wink at the teens, "I pointed out an open alley and covered her tracks as she passed, then distracted the woman."

"What?" came the deadpan response from several teens while Logan snorted in good humor, having finished his jerky flavored treat.

"I didn't trust adults, no matter how pretty," he said by way of explanation before continuing, "After the woman left, I was going to go about my business, but Ororo came and found me to say thanks."

"Really?" asked Kitty.

"Nope, she came to recruit me. A bunch of the orphans in Cairo were part of a group of thieves run by a dick who took ninety percent of everything we earned," he set the pan to simmer and sat down next to Storm, "The more kids we had with us, the more we had for ourselves. I was just another kid to use."

"That's harsh," said Kurt Wagner, a furry blue elf of a teen with prehensile tail. He understood their pain, having been conscripted into service by a German circus.

"Not so much," Harry shrugged, "You wouldn't believe how well ice cream sells in a desert.

"See, I'm pretty quick and agile, but I'm not cut out to be a thief. Two weeks in, the only thing I could get for the trying was a beating. So, one day I'm sitting outside, licking some ice cream, and this teen boy comes up to me and offers ten American dollars for my cold treat. After that, and a chat with the boss, the money poured in, in a slightly less than legal fashion."

"No taxes," Ororo explained simply.

"Made two grand in three days, the boss couldn't be happier," he laid the dagger on the table, "I wont say it was all roses and posies, but it was family. Things happened, some left, some stayed, some became killers, others husbands and wives. These are our only keepsakes of that time," he put the dagger back at his waist, "Well, that and…" he held up his hand, showing a silver wedding band. Storm pulled hers out of her shirt, having held it on a necklace.

"Where have you been, then?" Evan asked, crossing his arms.

"Dealing with a megalomaniacal terrorist intent on committing mass genocide in the land of my birth during a secret war, then tearing down a government based on a thousand years of corruption and old blood money," Harry said with a smile.

"It ended?" Storm asked her husband.

"In all ways. The ruling bodies have been replaced, the laws rewritten, Voldemort was sealed into a stone that we sealed in a black stone case then dropped into the sea with several stealth measures activated," he kissed her hand, "Hermione will be coming to visit in a few weeks. She's a little… gravid at the moment."

Storm's eyes widened for a moment, "She is well then? Who is the father?"

"She's fine, eight and a half months down and nothing is stopping her," Harry laughed, "And their isn't one, technically. It was artificial insemination. She felt that there was no man that she wanted to settle down with, but still wanted a little one of her own to raise and love."

"That sounds more like her than to settle down and be someone's wife," the woman nodded.

"Way, way more questions," Kitty said, processing all of that.

"Let 'er buck, kiddo," the British man said, a jovial grin on his face.

"Okay, why didn't you take Miss- er, Missus Munroe with you when you did… everything?"

"He didn't want me to sink an entire island in a fit of pique, should I have met his relatives," Ororo answered, "He is only truly wise when it is most annoying to be so."

The kids turned to Harry who shrugged, "When she's right why argue?"

"Alright, Bub," Logan said, "So what do you want here?" he held up a hand to forestall any response yet, "Storm's your wife, great. Good on ya. If you two plan on gallivantin' off on a no clothes allowed world tour, it wouldn't be our place to stop you. But I do wanna know what yer doin'. And what you meant when you said he was a threat," the last part he addressed to Storm.

"Well, like I said, I just got done fighting a war. I've seen and done all that that entails. There are things I've done with these hands that are not acceptable to talk about in any circumstance. The only reason I sleep at night is because I think of those I did it to as nothing more than vicious dogs that had to be put down, or made example of. Honestly, the no clothes allowed world tour sounds like a blast and, depending on when the end of the current school year is, we might," he winked at Storm, she blushed but didn't deny him, "So, yeah, I guess we could spar. Tomorrow, though. I haven't slept in a while, so I'm really no good right now."

Later that night, Storm, Ororo Munroe, lay in bed with her husband. The only intimacy they had shared throughout the day had been the shower they had taken together earlier. Even just that moment, as she lay in the bed with her pale skinned spouse, they hadn't engaged in intercourse. Harry hadn't lied when he'd said that he hadn't slept for a while.

When asked, Harry had told his wife that he hadn't slept in a week. He had been too excited to see her again as the political matters came to a close.

"What took so long?" Ororo asked him, holding him against her in a position that seemed oddly reversed. Harry was a small man, only a few inches taller than Logan, while Storm easily breached six foot. As such, it was he that laid against her. Her hands traced slow, loving patterns on his arms, feeling scars, old and new.

"I had to kill the Goblin Leadership. They seemed to think that, since I married a muggle and took her name," he pulled one of her hands to his lip and kissed the finger that now bore his wedding band, "I was no longer entitled to my inheritance. Something about an old law. So, I destroyed the monarchy, made an agreement with the new leaders preventing any other Potters from ever banking with the goblins again, and took my amassed money and heirlooms in a magical sack. I came here straight after." He leaned his head back on her well endowed chest and took a deep breath, "I love you, Storm," he turned around and kissed her.

"I love you, Freakshow," she answered back, kissing him in return. She almost laughed when she realized that the man was already asleep by the time she had finished kissing him.

So, there she sat, staring at her husband, not wanting to blink and miss a minute of him bathed in the moonlight.

The next morning an hour before breakfast, the two of them made vigorous love for the first time in years and then showered. It did nothing to hide the glow that surrounded the two from their obvious post orgasmic euphoria.

"Are you ready?" Asked Professor Xavier.

Both men nodded and Freakshow took a stance, having given his ceremonial knife to Storm and entered the arena unarmed.

"Logan, correct?" the man asked.

"Wolverine, in battle, yeah," the man slowly unsheathed his claws, then took them back. This was a spar. Wasn't gonna kill the kid.

"Metal bones," Harry hummed, "difficult. No hands then." he stomped one foot forward and held his fists before his face like a barrier, leaving only enough gap to see.

"That confident?" the feral mutant grunted, crouching low as they stalked around one another.

"Not at all. I would rather not break my fingers punching you, is all. I suppose that also bars any shin or forearm blocks. You are a difficult opponent, and you haven't even done anything yet," the British man harrumphed.

Logan just smirked and darted in. Harry dodged to the side in a roll and came up with a kick aimed at Wolverine's side, below the ribs. The Hairy man blocked the hit with an elbow, and received another kick to the jaw.

Harry got a blow to the ribs, which sent him tumbling.

He hopped back up, but favored his left side.

"Alright, ow," he said, "May I use my powers in this? No way can I take you, hand to hand."