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This Is War

Title: This Is War
Character(s)/Pairing: Finn, Puck, Finn/Puck, mentioned Harry/Draco, others mentioned
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,000
Status: Complete
Notes/Warnings: I don’t know where this came from. As for WARNINGS, this fic extends through the Final Battle, so expect character deaths of both HP characters and Glee ones.
Summary: They were children, born into a world that was already at war. Different Houses. Different sides. Light vs. Dark, but people are wrong sometimes. People change. A Slytherin who isn’t cut out to be a Death Eater and a Hufflepuff who just wants to stay alive. War can tear people apart, but it can bring them together, too.

Their first kiss was an accident, pushed together by Peeves and one of his pranks so fast that they hadn’t even had time to blink. Lips against lips. Neither of them had kissed back, so maybe it didn’t even count. They sprang apart a second later, sputtering and glaring as Peeves roared. Puck called Finn a mudblood and spun on his heel, his robes billowing behind him.

Finn reminded himself that there was a reason people hated Slytherins.


Finn hit Puck with a rouge bludger by mistake in the middle of the Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin game.

Watched with a sickening horror as it slammed into Puck’s skull and he plummeted towards the ground.

Madame Pomfrey patched him up and he spent the next month throwing hex after hex in Finn’s direction in some kind of petty revenge. When he stopped, Finn assumed he had simply gotten bored.

Life went on.


Sixth year came and Finn thought he was going to be a father in the middle of a war, but the baby was Puck’s. Quinn cried when the truth came out and she told him what really happened. Too much firewhiskey and a rush of hormones she wished hadn’t happened. Ravenclaw smarts hadn’t saved her from that one.

She never let Puck near her. After all, who would want a future Death Eater as the father of their child?

In the end, it didn’t matter, though. The baby girl was born with grey skin and not a single breath in her lungs.

Quinn fell apart.

Late one night, Finn peeked around a corner and saw the Slytherin mourning the daughter he never even got to see. Broken. A father without his daughter as he’d be for the rest of his days.

Finn hated that it wasn’t the saddest thing he’d seen since coming to this school.


Their second kiss came the next year, only a week before Draco let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Finn had been stumbling back to Hufflepuff from the Gryffindor common room, a little drunk and a lot happy after Ron’s first win as Keeper. Puck had been scared, an unease in the back of his head that told him something bad was just around the corner.

They bumped into each other and Puck’s back had crashed against the wall.

Faces too close and they kissed. Neither one of them were sure who closed the distance and maybe they hadn’t wanted to figure it out.

Maybe they had been too scared to think it had been them.


Dumbledore died and the war began.

Lines were drawn in the sand, so deep that they were more like chasms. He was on one side and Puck was on the other. Two teenagers, too young to fight and too old not to, raised and brought up with two different belief systems.

Finn with his muggle mother teaching him to accept everyone as they came. When he turned eleven and entered this strange new world for the first time, he had been naïve enough to think that everyone had been taught that. Maybe it had been the Hufflepuff in him.

Puck had been raised in the Dark, his parents so immersed in the wrong side that his father’s fate had been a cell in Azkaban and a chilly kiss from a Dementor. Raised to hate anything other than purebloods and Finn thought it was some kind of cruel irony. Like Puck never knew of the Holocaust, his own people—muggle as they were, but sharing a religion—and how many had met their deaths because of a senseless act.

He wondered what Puck would have done if he knew of You-Know-Who’s bloodline when he let that ugly mark be burned into his arm.

Two different sides.

Finn wanted peace.

Puck wanted him dead.


The Death Eaters caught him by mistake.

Puck came into his cell and Finn had been sure this was it. Listened as Greyback told Puck to torture him. He didn’t. Couldn’t, Finn noticed as he watched the boy’s wand arm shake until it finally fell. A boy raised with one ideal and groomed for a life he wasn’t cut out for.

Ron always said that Puck was as rotten to the core as Draco Malfoy, but Finn wasn’t so sure anymore.

Knew Ron was wrong as he watched Greyback turn his wand on Puck, a crucio on his lips. Puck screamed, his body twisting painfully and Finn tried not to cry for the boy that had never been anything but cruel to him.

Realized then that they were nothing more than children.


Puck screamed, louder still, as a cutting curse sliced into his chest. Blood spilled almost as quickly as Finn’s tears.

“The mudblood’s crying for you. Crucio.”


He escaped without Puck, the other boy’s wand held tight in his fist as he tried to not feel guilty for leaving the injured boy behind. Remembered how Puck had rolled his wand to him, barely conscious, and told him to get out.

“I’ll slow you down. Get us both killed.”

Finn hadn’t understood why he would sacrifice himself like this. He had always hated him. Had always wished him dead.

Puck asked him to keep his sister safe and Finn understood. Nothing was more important than family and, too late, the Slytherin was learning that things weren’t like he’d been raised to believe.

He kissed him fast before he left, not sure why he did it, but something stirring in his gut.

It had been their third kiss and Finn had this sickening feeling that it might be their last.


The Order got Sarah out.

Puck’s mother died, still spitting curses out and praising her Dark Lord as the life faded from her eyes.

Sarah asked for her Noah.

Finn wished he had been a Gryffindor. Wished he had had the bravery and the determination to take Puck with him when he escaped. He was a Hufflepuff, though. Bravery wasn’t his strongest quality and Sarah cried when he told her that her Noah wasn’t with them.


Three months and the Order found Draco and Puck, fallen over each other. Bleeding. Broken. Puck was half-dead and Draco was pleading for someone to save his friend. Offered himself up as a spy and cried that they’d been so, so wrong.

Two scared little boys that no one trusted, forced to fight in a war that they had never truly understood.


Puck slept for a week.

He never knew that their fourth kiss had happened.


Harry and Malfoy came together in a flurry of fear and lust and Finn wouldn’t realize until years later that they had paved the way for him and Puck. Paved the way with screaming and broken friendships that wouldn’t repair themselves until it was too late.

The trio broke up and Finn wished that it was just the war sending them in different directions.

Their search for the Horcruxes continued and he was left behind at Hogwarts, standing beside Neville as they tried to lead children into an adult’s war.


Him and Puck had sex in a broom closet. Someone cried and it might have been him or it might have been both of them. Scared. Lost.

He thanked Merlin that it had been dark.

He didn’t want to see the black of the tattoo on Puck’s arm.


The days blended together and as him and Puck fell into a bed for the first time, he realized that they were together more often than they weren’t. Like that time in Malfoy Manor had bonded them so completely. Like he’d seen a part of the tanned boy that no one else was allowed to see.

Someone whispered an I love you into a kiss and Finn wasn’t sure who it was, but he knew that it was too early. They had never even talked about what they were doing. Love never should have played a part.

This was war, though, and things happened faster when you didn’t know how long you had left.


The Final Battle came and Hell rose to the earth.

He lost Puck minutes into the fight, lost in the flashing lights of spells whizzing by. He saw the green of an Avada Kedavra, but it never hit him. It hit Dave Karofsky instead and the Hufflepuff everyone thought would be a Slytherin fell, brown eyes dark in death. Kurt screamed. Died minutes later when a corridor collapsed.

Quinn died, struck down by Bellatrix, and Finn sobbed for the girl he had loved once. Kissed a bloody hand and told himself that she was with that little girl now.

Luna died alone.

Fred Weasley died and left George with half of himself missing.



A baby was left without his parents and Finn cursed a Death Eater through his tears.

Sobbed when he thought he saw Puck’s body lying on the ground, but it was someone else. Another mohawked teenager he remembered seeing. He wished he hadn’t been grateful.

Then, it was over.

You-Know… Voldemort was dead and the Light had won. There was dead silence—ironic as the phrase was—for a minute before cheers erupted. Without their leader, the Death Eaters fell apart, lost with what they were meant to do.

Most of them died, but Aurors got any they could, giddy with the idea that they’d rot in Azkaban.

He found Puck in the crowd, both of them sobbing as they held onto each other. They’d lost count of their kisses long ago and, this time, both of them were saying I love you. No one bothered them and if he hadn’t been crying, Finn would have thought it was comical. A Hufflepuff and a Slytherin. A mudblood and a Death Eater.

He found out when Santana Lopez started screaming that Brittany was dead. Another Hufflepuff and Slytherin duo no one and everyone had known about, and watching the dark-haired girl cradle the body of the usually-bouncing blonde hurt. Another friend he’d lost, but Santana was crying like she’d lost a lover.

He looked over as Harry embraced Ron and Hermione, almost jealous that they were fixed. Friends as they were, he had never been part of their group. Not truly. He was there and he was their friend, but the trio had never really become a quartet.

He told himself that it would with Draco by Harry’s side. That the end of the war had finally seemed to settle the differences that relationship had brought.

Harry found Draco’s body minutes later and the cry he gave was so broken that he cried a little harder. Puck stumbled out of his arms, trying to get to his friend and Finn barely caught him when his knees buckled.

Draco. Red. Bloody. Torn apart by something that Finn couldn’t even put a name to. The light blond of his hair was the only identifier left and Finn took back the jealousy he’d felt before.

Everyone was broken after that day, too shattered to ever get back to who they’d been before. War did that. War tore people apart. Stripped them down, layer by layer, until all that was left was blood and bone.

Those were the lucky ones, Finn thought as he held onto Puck. The ones that broke further, war tore at them even more. Reduced them down to nothing but dust as their sanity fell away.

They were the ones left behind. Given the task of picking up the pieces when they couldn’t even lift themselves off the ground.

Children in an adult’s war.


Screams and sobs echoed in Finn’s head long after the battle was over. Years passed, children were born, and he still heard them. Still mourned for the ones they’d lost and for the people that never moved on.

Held onto Puck a little tighter as they stood at the memorial service and wondered if moving on was even possible.

The End


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Mar. 18th, 2014 11:58 pm (UTC)
Finn/Puck is my absolute favorite, and you do an amazing job writing them. I loved this, I even didn't mind the Harry/Draco, you did a really good job with this. Thank you for sharing :)
Mar. 19th, 2014 02:23 am (UTC)
Aw! Thank you! I'm glad you liked!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


Dianna Agron

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