he builds it up, you knock it down

.

When you meet him you know he's not a wizard, but you also know he's something special. Son of Hephaestus, he grins. And aren't you looking mighty fine today?

You've read about Greek myths, and their existence doesn't surprise you as much as the fact he's flirting. He must be joking (because no one in their right mind would flirt with you) so you give him the cold shoulder. He doesn't go away, so you decide to instead.

The split second before you Disapparate, you see the shock on his face, and instead of making you smile something small hurts inside.

.

Years later you meet again and one thing leads into the next and his lips are hot as a burning fire as they run along your collarbone. You tell yourself it's illogical, he shouldn't want you (you wear your father's horn-rimmed glasses, for Merlin's sake!), but he does.

And at this moment, the two of you together makes the most perfect sense in the world.

.

When you wake up in a strange bed with even stranger memories, your first instinct is to run. And since you've always gone with your gut, that's exactly what you do.

You leave a note, a quick scribble of I made a mistake. You've never lied so heartily in your life.

.

And time passes and you're married to a nice, safe boy you went to school with whose lips are merely lukewarm. You try not to think about him, with his flaming eyes and quick smile, but you were never the best at a poker face.

So when you're pregnant and suddenly he's knocking at your door, you can't cower inside and hope he goes away. You walk right up to him, but before you can get a word in edgeways he sees your stomach and his grin twists down.

Congratulations is the empty, bitter word he leaves you with, along with a smarting kiss on the cheek that leaves a red-hot mark for days afterwards. Once he's gone, you sink to the floor, knees drawn up tight, and you wish you came from his world instead.

.

You don't see him again, only catching glimpses of what might have passed: toddlers running around with slanted Latino eyes and wild red hair, parents walking hand in hand on a day so warm steam seems to seep through their clasped fingers.

You never tell anyone about him. You can't bring yourself to, and besides, they wouldn't believe you anyway.

Some days, you don't even believe yourself.

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Author's Note: My first crossover story…please review and tell me how I did? I know the timeline is skewed, but suspend your disbelief, please. Drop me a line! xoxo