Hey all! Thought I'd try a Van Helsing/ Harry Potter slash crossover. Don't really know why I started writing this, but I like it. hopefully you guys will too!

Beta'd by the lovely and wonderful Jessie, who I've been friends with for years. She's also known as Akara Stargazer.

My other beta, Lindsey, has been swamped with school and its been really difficult for her to keep editing my stories, so I enlisted the help of Jessie, who is just as wonderful, and slightly less busy. College is not helping any.

Disclaimer: I don't own Van Helsing or Harry Potter, because if I did, Ginny wouldn't have married Harry, and given their children horrible names, and Van Helsing would have Harry. But sadly, I can only borrow them for my own amusement.

Chapter One

Harry blinked drowsily. His entire body ached, from his arms all the way down to his toes. The sky above him was dark, scattered with stars he didn't recognize. Then again, he was never really that good at astronomy, so he couldn't really tell. He struggled to move his arms, to pull himself upright, to stand. Gasping for air, he could barely sit up because of the pain. His wand was tightly clenched in his right hand, but he was unable to put any substantial amount of pressure on the left. He cradled his left arm to his chest, scanning his surroundings. He was in a cobblestone alleyway, crumbling brick buildings on either side. It took him five minutes to drag his aching body to the side, to lean against a wall. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes for a minute, trying to get his bearings.

He had been in the battle. The Final Battle outside of Hogwarts, where dozens of people had given their lives. He had cast Avada Kedavra at Voldemort. It hit him- he knew that much. There was a terrible scream, a shriek really, and Voldemort had collapsed. What had happened after? Harry didn't remember anything, except- wait… "Bellatrix." He mumbled to himself. He had seen Bellatrix, screaming at him, and pointing her wand, and then a sickly purple light speeding towards him. "That spell must have sent me here. Where ever here is." He opened his eyes again, looking at the mouth of the alley. His wand was still with him, so he could at least make an attempt to defend himself, but in this state he didn't even know if he could cast a simple levitation charm.

Harry tried again to stand, using the wall to brace himself. Groaning, he leaned heavily against the wall. "Okay, now what?" he asked himself. He had no money, no idea of where he was, and no clue of how to heal himself. And of course, Fate was against him. Footsteps came thundering towards the alley, two maybe three people.

A glance at the sky made him flinch. There was a full moon tonight. Of course there would be. It did serve to better light up the scene that was sprung upon him next, though. The running came closer, and then to Harry's despair, turned down the alley he was hiding in. A giant wolf, clearly a were from Harry's perspective, was being chased by a man in a long trench coat and a hat, who was struggling to keep up. Harry couldn't see his face. Being near the back of the rather long alley, Harry had hoped he would stay out of sight, but his pain and his blood were too strong for the wolf to ignore. He closed his eyes as the animal leapt towards him, growling.

A loud bang shook him. His eyes flew open. The werewolf was lying on the ground, a bullet hole in the back of its head. Harry watched as it shifted from a wolf to man, perhaps 40 years old. Harry raised his head to look at the man who had chased the wolf, and was still pointing a gun at the body. Slowly, he too raised his head, and emerald green met hazel. The gun shifted its aim almost instantly.

They stood in this calm stalemate for several moments, just staring. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" His gruff voice made a delightful shiver run down Harry's spine. He had accepted his sexuality last year, when he tried to get back together with Ginny, and realized he just wasn't attracted to her. And this was exactly the type of situation that made him glad he had broken things off with her.

He smiled weakly. "I'm Harry. I was hiding here. Don't know where I am, how I got here, nothing." Belatedly, he came to the realization that the cut on his arm was bleeding a lot more severely than he thought it was, and he was getting a bit dizzy.

"How do you not know?" The stranger practically growled. The gun hadn't lowered a millimeter.

Harry giggled. Quite unlike him, really. This whole blood loss thing wasn't doing so well for him. "Magic." His eyes slipped closed, and he vaguely heard the man curse as Harry slid down the wall.

The strange man stepped around the deceased werewolf, crouching down next to the now unconscious boy. He brushed thick black hair out of the other's face, examining it. He was pale, and his cheeks were shallow. Circles were evident under his eyes even by the dim light of the moon. He frowned at the strange lightning bolt scar on the boy's forehead. It wasn't a knife scar, that was certain. It was much to precise and clean. Wasn't a burn, either. It wasn't like any type of weapon the man had seen before. That left mystical circumstances, which was something he was familiar with. And considering the boy didn't know where he was or how he got there, there was a definite possibility that this was his area of expertise. The man sighed, and slid one arm underneath the boy's legs, and the other behind his back. Rising elegantly, he carried the boy against his chest, noticing how light he was. He walked out of the alley, thankful for once that his work required him to be out at night, for he would certainly be noticed carrying this boy in the middle of the day. He would be able to take him back to the church, and the monks would be able to examine his wounds and treat them.

The next time Harry woke, it was to soft murmurings. He was lying on something so soft, and warm, that he didn't want to open his eyes for fear that it was a dream, and he would wake up back in that alley with the werewolf. The werewolf! And the hunter! He shot up instantly, frantic. Was the hunter still out there? Was he going to kill him?! He nearly screamed in pain even as he did so; he had broken some ribs, it would seem. A large hand pushed gently on his shoulder, making him lie back down. Harry looked up into familiar hazel eyes. "Calm down, kid. You're safe."

Harry nearly whimpered. Merlin, that voice! Even without the growl, it was nice! He mentally slapped himself back to reality. "What happened? How did I get here? Where am I?" He spoke the last part somewhat forcefully, hoping that he would be able to get the point across to not mess with him.

"St. Peter's Church, just outside of Padua. Roughly 150 miles from Rome." The gruff man answered promptly, amused by the boy's attempt to sound tough.

Harry gaped. "I'm in Italy? How the bloody hell did that happen?!" He struggled to sit up again, but the strong hand kept his head firmly planted to the pillow.

The stranger chuckled. "I was hoping you could tell me. And maybe tell us how you got all those injuries." At this, Harry looked at himself, and realized one major thing. His chest was wrapped in bandages, as was his left arm. His right leg, which he was relatively sure had been hit by a cutting hex, was also bandaged heavily. The only piece of clothing he had left was his boxer shorts. And there wasn't a blanket over him. A very attractive man, as he could tell now, had seen him practically naked. Harry tried not to blush at the thought of this, but failed miserably. "Well?" the stranger smirked, eyeing the flushed skin laid out in front of him.

Harry looked away. "Could I have a blanket or something? Maybe my clothes back?" He hated himself for sounding so vulnerable.

The man shrugged, and looked over the bed. "Father Brian, if you could bring him a blanket?"

The man, whom Harry had not paid attention to before this moment, nodded, and bowed out of the room silently, returning shortly with a plain, thin woolen blanket. "Is this acceptable, sir?"

"Yes, thank you Father. I believe that I can handle things from here. Thank you for your help, Father." He spread the blanket over Harry, who immediately felt better and more confident for not being in mere underwear.

The man, clad in black robes, nodded with a smile. "It is not a problem. Whenever you pass through here, you bring such interesting stories for the children. It is a wonderful thing."

Once they were alone again, the strange man met eyes with Harry. The boy's face had hardened, as if he was expecting some great interrogation. "So? What do you want to know?"

He grinned. Harry couldn't help but think that it made him look even more attractive. "Let's start with your name."

"Harry Potter. Yours?" Harry was gauging his reaction. The man didn't even flinch at his name, so he must not be a wizard.

"You can call me Van Helsing. Everyone else does, nowadays." Harry frowned at bit at the odd answer. Van Helsing sounded more like a surname than a first name. What was he hiding? "Where are you from, Harry Potter?"

"Surrey," he answered unthinkingly, before realizing the severity of the situation. He didn't know who this Van Helsing was! What if he was really a Death Eater in disguise?!

Van Helsing frowned. "Never heard of it. Is it in Italy?"

He chuckled, nerves dissipating. "No, it's near London. England."

"You're a long way from home, kid."

Harry glared at him, a startling amount of frustration and anger in his eyes. "I'm not a kid, you know." Too many people called him a kid and told him he knew nothing of war, of Voldemort, of death. And they were wrong.

Van Helsing raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? You're what, 16? 17?" He couldn't help but hope silently that this Harry was older than that, old enough to at least make an attempt to see where his preferences were. He was startlingly attractive, with his pale complexion, bright eyes, and tousled hair. He had wiry muscles, and his body was made for agility and speed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm twenty, actually." Oh how he hated the Dursleys for the lack of proper nutrition. He would always be short, thanks to their less than ideal methods of raising him. He saw Van Helsing raise an eyebrow in question.

"You look younger."

He snorted. "Clearly." Harry closed his eyes briefly, wondering what to do now. He knew this man's name, where he was, and was fairly certain the man was a muggle. But things weren't adding up. "What were you doing there last night?" He blurted.

Van Helsing started. He wasn't expecting that question so soon. "What do you mean?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't play that card. You know what I mean. Why were you in that alleyway, behind the werewolf? You saved my life, but I need to know what you were doing there, and how you just happened to have silver bullets in your gun."

The man sat back in his chair, evaluating this boy-no, man, lying before him in bed. Well, that came out wrong, with far too many delicious images. The man stretched out in front of him, practically naked…no, not any better. The man lying in bed, injured by someone or something that wasn't present in that alley. That was much better, without the plethora of images his mind immediately summoned at the thought of Harry naked in his bed. But he had to admit, those images would definitely be useful later on. The green-eyed man was still staring at him, calmly waiting for an answer. God, those eyes… so much emotion, and darkness behind them. They were disturbingly similar to the darkness Van Helsing saw in the mirror whenever he was privileged enough to have one. "I'm a Hunter." Interestingly enough, the other frowned, almost confused. "It's my job to find the monsters and beasts of this world and capture them or kill them, so they won't kill more innocents."

This didn't make any sense. All the Hunters had been retired in the 20th century, after the International Federation of Magical Creatures convinced the wizards to shut down the Knights of the Holy Order, after an innocent werewolf was killed by accident by a new Hunter. Harry said as much to Van Helsing, who proceeded to stare at him like he was insane.

"I work for the Knights of the Holy Order, and they're not disbanded. Don't know where you came from, but it's still the 19th century here." Van Helsing watched as Harry's face went chalk white, and his fists clenched the blankets. He was staring open-mouthed at the Hunter. He was shaking, and then his lips started to tinge blue. He was having a panic attack. "Shit!" Van Helsing swept to the bedside, resting a hand on the back of Harry's neck. "Breathe, kid! C'mon, breathe!"

Harry took a great, gasping breath. Several more were needed before he was able to breathe regularly again, but his eyes had gone blank. Unnaturally concerned, Van Helsing shifted Harry from his former lying position to a sitting one, getting barely a wince from him as the Hunter arranged the pillows behind his back so he could rest comfortably.

"Want to tell me what that was about?"

His eyes were still dull, lacking the spark of life that had been there. "Just a panic attack. What year is it, exactly?" Just a panic attack? What was this kid?

Van Helsing sat back down gingerly. "You're not going to have another attack, are you?" Harry shook his head. "Good. It's 1892." Four years since Transylvania, he thought absently. He wondered briefly how Carl was doing back in Rome, and if he had figured out how to improve the tojos yet.

Harry did some quick math in his head, and almost wanted to cry. "Even if I live to be 100, I'll still die before I was born. Or should that be will be born?" he said more to himself than to the Hunter sitting next to him. Van Helsing remained silent, not sure where to even begin. "What am I even supposed to do?" His eyes were so desperate, so lonely, despairing, that the fearless man in front of him felt his heart clench in a way it hadn't in several years.

"Well," he began, hesitant to introduce the boy to the judgment of the church, "You can come with me back to Rome. Perhaps there we can try to discover how you came here."

The black haired boy snorted. "Not likely. This sort of time travel is supposed to be impossible. The furthest back in time anyone has been able to go is a week." He continued, oblivious to the shock now evident on the other man's face. "Time Turners only work for 24 hours, but there are a few spells and rituals to send you back or forward almost a month. The last person to attempt going forward in time more than that was killed. The amount of power it takes is far more than your average witch or wizard has." Harry looked up into shocked hazel eyes. "Oh. Oops?" Sheepishly, he tried to explain. "I get caught up sometimes, and didn't realize you didn't know what I was talking about and I know that you don't really know the whole time travel stuff, none of it was really investigated until the mid 1900's, but I thought you were at least a wizard, but you're not necessarily, 'cause the Holy Order didn't always recruit magical folk…"

Van Helsing started to laugh. Not his usual forced chuckle, either. He was actually, truly, laughing for the first time in a long while. He couldn't help it. The babbling was just too… cute. Harry stared at him, undeniably pleased at the man's amusement, and that laugh, much like the voice, sent shivers down his spine. His cheeks turned pink, ear tips reddened, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smile.

After a few minutes, Van Helsing managed to stop laughing. The faint traces of a smile remained fixed on his face, though. "Sorry. It's just that you are resilient."

Harry frowned, not quite understanding. "How so?"

He smiled. "Not five minutes ago, you were panicking. And now you've seemed to accept that you believe you've traveled in time."

The younger man shrugged, smiling shyly. "Weirder things have happened to me."