WARNING! THIS IS AN EXPOSITIONAL PROLOGUE WITH NO [a tiny bit of] DIALOGUE!
This is a story of two trios on opposite sides of the ocean. They were each strangers to the other, until one day when they collide.
In each world, two were in a happy relationship. The man had dark hair and mischievous eyes; the lady had ginger hair.
On one side, the woman had strawberry blond locks, and the man had dark chocolate, but on the other, her hair was crimson as a rose, and his, black as pitch.
The couples lived in wealth, for the men were heroes in their own rights, but the women were tired of cleaning up the messes the men left at home. They were sick of worrying endlessly as the heroes recklessly threw their lives on the line for their world.
There were two confrontations. The first happened on the highest balcony of Stark Tower in New York, USA. The second took place in a small house (dubbed "The Burrow") tucked away in the English countryside.
Two women asked two men if they could talk after dinner. They agreed heartily, finished their suppers quickly, and joined their loves outside (on the balcony, in the first couple's case). While both men were smart, they were woefully ignorant when it came to love.
They didn't notice the tears until it was too late. They didn't notice the rift that had been there from the start, but had only grown since they had met. With a parting word of farewell, the maidens gave them one last kiss on the cheek, before leaving the broken-hearted fellows alone in the cold.
Both men shivered, salty tracks tracing their way down their once-jovial faces. They sank to their knees, still gazing devastatedly in the direction of their beloveds. Tony Stark and Harry Potter broke their gazes bitterly, and drew boxes from their pockets. They opened the boxes, and looked down at the sparkling rings inside.
Nobody had officially seen Harry Potter since.
One might have been wondering about the final men of the trios. The blondes and the brunettes had had a long rivalry, but soon realized that they were both fighting for the same cause. This realization brought Steve and Tony together as a team, and Draco and Harry as almost-friends.
Before Harry had left Britain for the States, he had left a note. It wasn't long or elaborate, but it held forgiveness and heart, just as if the Boy Who Lived was there, talking with those he (had) loved.
Mrs. Weasley cried when she read it. Ron swore softly before retreating, and Ginny locked herself in her chambers, and refused to speak to anyone when she finally left to get food. Hermione happened to be staying at the Burrow at the time, and spent an hour trying to comfort Ron.
Draco (incidentally) had already disappeared to the other side of the pond. The public wizarding opinion was that any and all of the Malfoy name were cruel Death Eaters and deserved to be punished. Granted, Lucius was a Death Eater, and so was Draco, but the younger had been branded against his will. Narcissa wasn't even on a side until the end of the war.
Harry had spoken with him briefly in between the break-up and Draco's voyage. They were much better for the talk, and the Slytherin consoled Harry as only he could: with an awkward pat on the shoulder and a few muttered words of eventual revenge.
Harry never actually knew where Draco had disappeared to. When the man had vanished, he had respected his privacy and left it alone. Perhaps, he remembered thinking, I'll see him again on my travels. Somehow, the thought of catching those platinum locks somewhere in France or Italy was comforting, even compelling.
Over the months, Tony convinced the team to move into his tower.
"My apartment is three blocks away!"
"I don't think you want the Other Guy messing up your tower, Tony."
"What's that you say? Free food? I'm in!"
"You are never to set foot on my floor unless you want a Widow's Bite to the arc reactor."
"You are most hospitable, Son of Stark. My thanks."
Tony's responses:
"Well now you're three blocks closer, Cap. See? That was easy."
"I've already prepped a Hulk-out room. Also, Candyland, Brucie. Candyland."
"Who said there was- *sigh* fine. Free food, birdbrain. Happy?"
"*le gasp* I wouldn't dare! It's Clint you're gonna have to watch out for. He lives in the realm of vents."
(Thor: "What is this realm of vents? I must see it at once!" [He got stuck.])
"No problem, big guy. Bring your brother, too."
Loki did eventually show up (much to his chagrin), still pouting from Asgard. Tony and Clint took every opportunity to prank and provoke the trickster, and suffered the (albeit magical) consequences.
Meanwhile, Harry was successfully running his own local café (The Patronus) a few streets away. Fitting in as a muggle was a tad difficult at first, and he couldn't help but wonder why the American city needed rebuilding when it was Britain that was attacked by Voldemort.
He also owned the apartment above, and when Hermione and/or Ron secretly visited, he always had a room or two open. It didn't happen very often, but the Chosen One was glad for the isolation and anonymity.
The treats he baked were delicious, and those few who found the cozy place were almost guaranteed to come back. He worked by himself, enjoying the solitude and warmth from the regulars.
He often caught the blazing A left on the one of the highest towers, but he always assumed it was just an office building. Harry didn't listen to Muggle news. There weren't any electronics in The Patronus. Even the lights originated from several mismatched candles lining the walls, or from strategically placed ones on various tables. The only other illumination streamed in from the windows. (Harry made an electronics exception for the coffee machine, but the oven baked with fire.)
Harry and Steve had met unknowingly, for The Patronus was his favorite café, but he (like everybody else) knew Harry as James Evans. (The good captain had never revealed his full name, just Steve.) Steve's favorite drink was the Sirius Black Tea. Tacky? Yes. Worth it? Definitely.
Nobody ever knew where Steve disappeared to on Sunday mornings; Tony just assumed it was church or some such convention. In fact, the café was rather difficult to find if one didn't know where to look. None of the Avengers knew about James Evans, nor did "James" hear a breath about the Avengers. And that was how they lived: two disgraced heroes laying low, two distant friends, and two upset women who slowly melted away.