Title: Imprints (A Fading Footsteps Side Story)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Arakawa and BONES own FMA, JKR owns Harry Potter, and I'm just a poor student playing around with my favourite source material.
Summary: Professor Elric was a charming drunk. Set before the epilogue of Fading Footsteps. HP/FMA crossover.
Spoilers: FMA end of series, mild ones for Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
Notes: Because of this: "You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one." (emphasis my own)

Alcohol was a funny thing. It made people pliable, weak, and talkative. It was a potent potion, one that could extract truth just as well as veritaserum, and make people reveal their true selves beyond the ability of any spell. Perhaps that was why Tom only ever drunk the minimum amount required for politeness' sake.

Besides, there were benefits to be derived from being the only sober person in the room. Not the least of which was amusement.

Professor Elric was a charming drunk.

Charming was perhaps not how most people would have described him - certainly not most of the other drunken guests of Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. He was still speaking normally and there was only a tiny stumble in his walk, but it was clear to anyone who interacted with the man that he was definitely drunk. Beside the slight flush on his cheeks - which probably contributed to the 'charming' part - his behaviour was the only indicator that there was something different about the professor.

Oh, but what a change it is.

The soft spoken, quiet and reclusive professor was gone, replaced by a combative, acerbic and frighteningly sharp man. In other words, the man was a truly nasty drunk. It was close enough to Elric's persona when they were alone, but Tom had never seen it unleashed on anyone else before. For someone who had to interact daily with many of Hogwarts' students and teachers, the professor was appallingly bad at dealing with people.

Or maybe not...his public persona isn't too bad at making people comfortable and drawing them in.

And his real personality was just as good at making people run away, if the sight of Avery scrambling out of the room with his hands covering his face was any indication. Not that Avery was the first person the drunken professor had upset.

Judging from that...maybe he just doesn't like dealing with people.

Not the wisest career choice, then, is it, Professor?

Concern for Avery never entered his mind, but curiosity eventually got the better of him.

"Professor Elric?"

Elric spared a glance for him, eyes bright and a little wild, and nodded in acknowledgement. He had been speaking to a Ravenclaw fifth year sternly, but with none of the rancour he held for Avery.

Blatant favouritism. He likes the Ravenclaws a little too much, Tom thought, even as the professor patted the Ravenclaw on the shoulder and stalked towards him.

"Having a good time?" Elric drawled, raising an eyebrow at Tom's half-full glass.

"I don't drink, Professor."

Elric laughed, his real, breathless laugh, instead of the pale imitation he usually offered. "You should. It might be good for your addiction to more harmful entertainment."

Tom glanced around quickly. If anyone else had overheard that comment...

"What about you, Professor? I saw you with Avery. Was that 'harmful entertainment'?"

The professor actually rolled his eyes, which made him look ridiculously young. "Oh, please. Like you give a damn about him. Besides, he was harassing Ackerley - I only gave him a taste of his own medicine."

Not even professor Elric was immune to the effects of a good bottle of mead. It was too good an opportunity to waste.

Tom gestured to the door. "Come on, professor, let's leave before you completely destroy your affable image."

"What affable image?" Elric gazed longingly at the drinks table for a moment before giving him an odd, mournful smile. "Well, if you insist...I think I have some passable scotch in my room, although it's nowhere near as good as Professor Slughorn's mead."

He smiled. Really, this was becoming so easy. "You do realize that you're inviting a student to your rooms with the expressed purpose of plying said student with alcohol?"

If Elric was disturbed by the implied accusation, he didn't show it. "And you're going along because you want to ask questions while all the alcohol is making me slow and trusting." A slow, lazy grin, flashing sharp teeth. "Right, Tom?"

Slow and trusting? Hardly. The man was as sharp as ever, and if the liquor made his skin glow and his gold eyes go hazy and gave him a false air of pliability, it only made him more dangerous.

Some days, he wondered if he was ever going to tire of dealing with the professor.

"Sit down, I'll get us something to drink."

"Not the scotch, I hope."

"Just trying to even the playing ground a bit. It's not very fair of you to take advantage of me when I'm clearly incapacitated by Slughorn's mead."

"You seem perfectly fine to me, sir." If a little bit too enchanted by the mead.

"That's because you like me this way."

What?

"...Sir!"

"What did I say?" Soft, breathless laughter. "Ignore me, Tom, we both know that you don't like people."

It was more your expression that was the problem, and you know it.

"You're still a bastard, professor."

"Yeah, I know. You don't think you deserve it this time?"

This man has the strangest set of morals.

"Spare me your judgement, sir. I don't need to hear it."

"I wouldn't say anything like that."

"And yet you disapprove. You're a strange man, professor."

"You're not the type that needs to be told something twice. Figure it out yourself."

'I do like you, Tom.' And yet, the sheer simplicity of the professor's attitude was confusing in itself.

"Tom, why have you been researching manipulation of the soul?"

"...How is it that you always know what I'm doing?"

"I spend more time in the library than you do."

"That's not an answer."

"Yours wasn't either."

"I thought you said I was going to be asking the questions tonight."

"I changed my mind. Answer the question, Tom."

"Equivalent exchange, professor."

"Fine, fine. You tell me why, and I'll save you the trouble of bothering another teacher."

"You mean -"

"Well, my knowledge is pretty general, but I don't think you'll want to ask after this."

"...very well. I'm curious about placing a soul into an object."

Laughter, but it was Elric's fake laugh, cold and sharp. "You're always curious about the worst things."

"How is immortality bad?"

"...never mind. In exchange for your answer, I'll just tell you this: it's not something you want to do to yourself. The soul isn't a plaything."

Tom laughed, high and cold. "And you said you didn't judge, professor."

"I'm not. I'm telling you what you want to know. How is immortality bad, you ask...what if, in exchange for immortality, you have to lose yourself? Doesn't that negate the whole purpose of the exercise?"

"...What do you mean?"

"Your genius, Tom, your brilliant mind, your sanity, not to mention possibly your good looks. All given up in exchange for what you seek. Is that an equivalent exchange for you?"

"How do you know?" Breathed out, because he was horrified despite himself.

"Souls aren't playthings. I ask you again, Tom - is that an equivalent exchange for you?"

Turn back.

Please.

Fin.