Going Off the Deep End

Part 1 from Bragging Rights and Other Stories

Disclaimer: I do not own part or parcel of Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter, or any of their affiliated companies.

Maes smoothed the photo between his fingers, mindful of the slightly curled edges. The picture was nearly five years old; it had been taken at his cousin's wedding. In the photo, James and Maes were standing together arm-in-arm , matching flushed, cheesy grins on both their faces.

They looked remarkably alike. Other than James' hair (terminably messy) and Maes' eyes (green), they were very nearly twins. At the time the best man had made a crack about making extra copies to prove that Lily was getting a two-for-one deal.

Maes tucked the picture back into place with care and stowed his wallet in his jacket pocket next to the letter informing him about the death of his remaining family he'd received less than a month ago. His taxi slowed before turning onto a quiet neighborhood street.

"We're on Privet Drive, Sir - what house you look'n for?"

He consulted his pocket notebook once more and indicated number four to the driver, who nodded and stopped the taxi by the curb at a house midway down the street. The property wasn't particularly exciting - a modest middle-class home with a well-trimmed lawn and a pair of narrow flowerbeds tucked close to either side. Unlike the terraced homes he was accustomed to back in Central or even in London proper, there was less noise and more space, though he was surprised to find the same degree of uniformity among them.

The young man sighed and collected the gift bag he'd brought along that concealed a teddybear with a soft striped satin ribbon bowed around its neck. The gift was impersonal, but he thought (and the clerk in the toy shop had assured him it was so) that a teddy was age-appropriate for a child not quite two years old. Maes turned and leaned in through the window to pay his fare.

"You want I should wait on you, laddie?"

He smiled at the driver and dropped a generous tip on top of his fare.

"I'd be grateful, thanks. I shouldn't be more than an hour, if you don't mind?"

The cabbie was willing enough to circle the neighborhood a bit and drove off after Maes slapped the roof of the car before turning to face the home. He wondered again at what he was doing as he strode up the walk towards the front door. But then - Maes remembered the announcement James had Lily had sent him about the birth of their son. He'd kept all the letters he'd received from them over the course of the war; they were currently stashed in his top dresser drawer tied together in a tidy stack.

Well, he was here now. A shrill, feminine voice called out that they would only be a moment after he knocked. Maes nervously ran a hand though his hair and waited. He wondered what Lily's sister was like - he had not previously been introduced at the wedding, and James had never brought up the subject of his wife's remaining family in any of his letters beyond their grief over the unexpected passing of Lily's parents. He drew up a smile as the door was swept open, and prayed that he made a good enough impression on the woman that she would allow him to build some sort of relationship with his young cousin. Harry would eventually have questions about his father. Maes wanted to be a source of stories and information to the child. Hopefully, between himself and the aunt, they would provide Harry with a gateway to knowing his parents.

The woman who opened the door was not, on first inspection, the sort of woman Maes was expecting. And perhaps that was unfair. She bore some passing resemblance to her late sister - sharp features, the cant of her eyes, and the long fingers he recalled from his memories of Lily - but otherwise, Petunia Dursley resembled Lily Potter not at all. This train of thought was abruptly swept away in the tide of her immediate behavior.

"Hello! Sorry to have kept you…" Mrs. Dursley trailed off as she got an eyeful of the man on her front step. The woman's face drained of all color and when she spoke next, her voice came out in a small, terrified gasp.

"You! B-but, you-you're dead! You can't be here! They told us -"

Maes' eyes widened in comprehension and he reached out to catch the door just as the frightened woman made to slam it in his face.

"Wait! James was my cousin! Please - my name is Maes Hughes . Please, I just want to talk."

Petunia Dursley's lips thinned and she maintained a white-knuckled grip on the knob and bolt of her front door. Though pale and fearful, she straightened her spine and steeled herself enough to look the stranger directly in the eye. Petunia was not a courageous woman; in this moment, though, standing alone between her family and this stranger on her porch step she looked very like her sister had done in her final moments that dreadful night five months ago.

"Prove it!" She bit out. "They told me the boy had no more family! And don't you d-dare pull out one of those sticks here! I'll not have any of that nonsense about my home."

Maes held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not a wizard Ma'am - I don't have the Talent for any of that, I'm afraid." He shrugged sheepishly when the woman hissed at him to keep his voice down. He attempted to make his tone as gentle and placating as courtesy would allow when he continued.

"Now - I'm going to reach into my coat pocket for my wallet. It has my I.D. and some photos in it. I'll pass it over to you - you're welcome to look through it."

Slowly, so as to not startle her more, Maes extracted his wallet from the inner breast pocket, still keeping one hand up in the air where Mrs. Dursley could see it. He just as slowly reached out and passed his wallet over to the woman who continued to shield herself with her front door.

Petunia continued to eye the man suspiciously as she snapped the wallet open and rifled through it. The wallet contained a handful of British pounds, some foreign bills, and the promised I.D. She plucked out the photo Maes had only just tucked back into his wallet as he'd arrived and examined it with a pinched expression. She snorted dismissively and quickly replaced it before passing the wallet back to its owner.

Petunia craned her neck to peer at the houses to either side of her own, as if expecting spies to pop out of the hedgerows, before finally stepping out onto her small porch and shutting the front door firmly behind her. The woman's cheeks were beginning to blotch with an embarrassed flush and she drew her cardigan tight around herself, whether to stave off the slight chill in the air or as a nervous habit Maes didn't know.

"Well? What do you want then? Your I.D. says you're foreign, you didn't come all this way for nothing."

Maes stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels a bit.

"Ah - well. I expect you've heard about Amestris' border skirmishes with some of our neighbors on the news?" Petunia sniffed and nodded as he continued. "I'm with the military - I was stationed on our Eastern border when I stopped receiving letters from James and Lily." His shoulders slumped. "I thought the mail had been stopped, it's happened before during conflicts - but even after we pulled back the military presence three months ago, I wasn't getting letters. I only just got word a few weeks ago of what happened, and we've just had travel restrictions lifted recently. So." Maes sighed and straightened up. "I've come to pay my respects, and I was hoping to meet my young cousin." Maes held up the gift bag he'd set to the side.

"What is that?" Petunia leaned away as if the man was offering her a bag of toads. Maes tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"It's a teddy bear. For Harry." He parted the tissue so she could see the gift beneath. Petunia sniffed disdainfully and finally stepped back to open the door again.

"Come in and see the boy, if you must. Vernon!" She called into the hall, "Darling - we have a guest." Petunia did not offer to take Maes' coat, but she showed him to the sitting room where a large man with a full mustache was rising from his chair and setting aside an evening copy of the news paper in order to greet him.

"Mr. Hughes, this is my husband Vernon - if you'll excuse me, I'll make up a tea tray." She swept out of the room and Maes reached out to clasp one of Vernon Dursley's meaty hands. Vernon narrowed his eyes.

"You look familiar - have we met? Hughes, was it?" Maes smiled tightly as Vernon motioned for him to take a seat on the sofa.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Dursley - Major Maes Hughes at your service." Vernon harrumphed at that.

"You sound foreign," he rumbled. Maes maintained a polite smile.

"Yes sir - I'm from Amestris. As I'm sure you're aware, our government's travel ban has recently been lifted. Since I had some leave, I came to look in on my cousin Harry. James was my last remaining family in England -"

Vernon's face paled at the mention of the child and he peered about the room as if the walls were eavesdropping on their conversation before he whispered "You're not - you're not one of those weird types, are you? You look normal enough -" Somewhat at a loss, Maes quickly reassured the man.

"I'm not - ah - magical, if that's what you're asking -"

"Shhhhhhh!" Maes watched with increasing bewilderment as Vernon Dursley quickly left his chair and peeked around the curtain of the nearest front-facing window - presumably, to assure himself that no one was attempting to overhear their conversation.

Mrs. Dursley strode stiffly back into the room bearing the promised tea tray. She made up a cup for her husband and indicated to Maes to help himself before once more excusing herself, this time to go wake the boys from their afternoon nap.

Mr. Dursley attempted to make awkward small talk with his wife's guest for the next five minutes before they were interrupted by a petulant cry of 'No!' that precipitated a great deal of childish wailing from upstairs.

Maes winced. "Oh dear."

Vernon chuckled and exclaimed proudly, "That's my boy! Our Dudley always knows his own mind…" Vernon took the opportunity to wax on about the virtues and the future potential of his son as the wailing slowly ebbed and Petunia finally rejoined the men in the sitting room with a child on each hip.

One was rather larger than the other, and very round; pink apple cheeks framing an enormous pout crowned in thick blonde curls. Familial resemblance suggested that this was the lauded Dudley. The child was alternately sniffling and babbling at his mother who cooed back down at him.

The other, smaller, child was a great deal quieter, with inky tufts of hair that stuck out at odd angles like thistledown. The boy blinked sleepily and peered around as Maes' heart seized painfully in his chest.

"Here - you came to see him, take him." His hands and lap were suddenly full with baby Harry as Petunia unceremoniously thrust the boy at him. She settled in an armchair next to her husband's, murmuring to her own child as Dudley fussed and plying him with digestives while Vernon fixed her tea cup.

Maes couldn't be assed to pay attention just then. Harry, still a bit bewildered after having been woken from his nap, blinked up at the man who held him with large green eyes and a solemn expression.

"Oh," Maes' voice was low and thick with grief and his smile wobbled a bit as he held his young cousin for the first time. "Hello Harry - Oh, aren't you a sweet boy?" Vernon snorted at that but Maes was still too captivated by James' son to look away.

Meanwhile, little Harry reached up to fist his small hands in the overwhelmed young major's button-up and levered himself up shakily to stand on the man's legs in order to reach his small arms around Maes' neck. Maes was sure his heart would burst when the child buried his face into his jacketed shoulder and huffed a contented breath.

And then Harry began to drool.

Maes had never been so besotted in all his life. He looked up, and all the effusive praise on his lips withered and died at the expressions on the Dursley's faces.

Vernon looked disdainful and dismissive over his teacup. Petunia's face, when she was not doting affectionately on her own son, was complicated, but ultimately cold. There was no fondness to spare for her nephew in her gaze. As if sensing their lack of regard, Harry whimpered and pressed his face harder into Maes' neck. He hugged the child to himself and tried to soothe the baby by rubbing gentle circles into his back.

Icy dread slowly began to crystalize in the pit of his stomach. Physically the boy appeared to be fine, but the inattention and deliberate disinterest was shrilling an alarm in his mind. As little as he knew about parenting, Maes could never see himself treating a child in his care with so little concern as to dump him in the arms of a nominal stranger.

Mr. Dursley picked up the thread of the previous conversation, blithely unaware of Maes' growing concerns. "So, Major - what is it you do exactly? You never did say."

Maes smiled thinly. "Outside of the fighting, I work in investigations. Mostly my department handles external criminal investigations in the capital, though occasionally we deal with internal matters as well."

Vernon rumbled approvingly." Hrmph! Well, that's not soft at all! Decent enough salary too, I dare say. Much more respectable than that boy's wastling father and his lot, wouldn't you say, Petunia dear?"

"I beg your pardon?"

The sitting room had gone deathly still, save for Dudley babbling on the carpet where Petunia had set him down to play. Maes' expression was flat and chilly, and his tone sharp as he retorted, "Surely, Mr. Dursley, you're not referring to my recently deceased cousin James Potter? James - who served his community for three years as a peacekeeper and who apprehended a number of dangerous criminals? No - I'm sure I've only misheard you."

Vernon Dursley blustered. He huffed and puffed and blew out his mustache.

He put his foot in his mouth.

"Well! Well - it's not as if those you-know-whatsits have real jobs! As if they have anything to offer the rest of us normal folk - Going around and dumping children on doorsteps, without so much as a please or thank you -"

Before Maes could interrupt the budding tirade with an angry reply of his own, the sound of ripping paper and a triumphant squeal of babyish glee sounded from next to his feet. Dudley Dursley had found the gift bag he'd unmindfully set on the floor when he'd first sat down on the sofa. The child began swinging the beleaguered toy around by one of it's feet and beating it roughly on the legs of the coffee table.

Harry chose that moment to lift his head from Maes's (now wet) shoulder in order to squint at the man's face. He leaned forward and pecked a sloppy kiss on Maes' cheek and patted his nose clumsily.

"Bah." He uttered seriously.

He blinked and forgot for the moment his own mounting anger as he looked at his only remaining family with wonder. When Harry tucked his head back into the crook of his neck after his important pronouncement with a happy sigh, Maes glanced back up at Mrs. Dursley. She appeared somewhat mortified, but her expression was rapidly growing into something defensive and hard.

Maes wanted to laugh hysterically. To shut himself away with a bottle of brandy in his flat and not come out for three days.

He drew in a deep breath.

And another. He was about to jump into the deep end after all, Maes was going to need all the air he could get.

"Mrs. Dursley, I think there are some things we need to discuss. I have a proposition for you…"

One Week Later

As the train finally pulled to a full stop in the station, Roy Mustang shifted to stand from the bench, the better for Maes to see him. When his friend had called to let him know that he'd needed to extend his bereavement leave in order to complete some paperwork and make final arrangements, and had asked if Roy would mind picking him up at the station if possible, he'd been worried. He watched as the doors to the compartments disgorged streams of passengers, and just as the flow of foot traffic began to let up he caught sight of Maes disembarking, carefully maneuvering an over-stuffed suitcase with one hand, and with the other arm, balancing a…

He strode quickly forward to meet his friend as Maes caught sight of him and trekked through the thinning crowd.

"Maes, wha-"

"Roy! Catch!" His friend flashed a large, impertinent grin at him and Roy only just caught and fumbled with the heavy suitcase as Maes gently hitched the child he'd been carrying further up into a more secure hold with both his arms. Roy huffed in annoyance.

"What on earth are you doing with a child, Maes?"

Maes, the absolute ass, continued on as if Roy hadn't spoken and as if there was nothing at all bewildering about returning from another country with a baby.

"Harry! This is your Uncle Roy! Can you say 'hello' for your Uncle?" The boy turned his face, which had previously been hidden in Maes' shoulder, to observe him. Dark, tufted hair concealed what might be some sort of scar or birth mark on his forehead and framed wide green eyes a few shades darker than Maes' own. It was a rather… cute face overall, he supposed. Roy tried not to cringe away when Harry grinned widely at him all of a sudden - children were… sticky.

"Maes, you went to England not even two weeks ago."

"Yup!" Maes had the nerve to pop the 'p' on the end of his reply as he kissed the top of Harry's head and cooed nauseatingly at the baby.

"Where did you even find him?"

Maes' smile grew sharp. "Lily's sister found herself to be unequal to the task of raising her nephew." Roy was startled from his friend's change in demeanor when a small, wet, hand gently smacked his cheek.

"Hi! Hi hi!" Maes became obscenely effervescent as the baby continued to burble.

"That's right! My sweet, clever boy - we'll tell Uncle Roy all about it in the car, won't we? Can you say car?" Maes winked at him, the cheeky berk, as he continued to babble back and forth with his charge.

Roy sighed, hefted the suitcase that was no doubt weighted with the baby's necessities, and strode forward.

"Let's go then."

Author's Note: I've been working on this collection of one-shots and ficlets. Please read and review!