Morning came a lot sooner than either one of them wanted. Had they had any say in the matter, morning wouldn't exist at all, just forever lasting perfect sleepy bliss. They'd both slept peacefully, warmly, safely. It had been the best nights sleep either Tony or Bruce had since the end of term, even if it had only lasted for a couple of hours.

But when morning finally came, Bruce didn't wake up as pleasantly as Tony had, about an hour before him and the rest of the team. Instead of waking next to a sexy and rumpled partner who looked so trouble free it was near heart breaking, like Tony had. Bruce woke to a fully awake teen billionaire storming back into his full bedroom with armfuls of food.

"Peasants, your God has arrived. And he brought breakfast. I expect your gifts by Wednesday, so get up and eat," Tony declared as the rest of them shot daggers his way.

Tony was a God alright. The God of rude and abrupt awakenings that left you grouchy for the whole day. Really, no one could do it as well as Tony.

It wasn't unusual for Tony to wake up first and do a food run. In fact it was extremely common place. Though when he wanted to, Tony could lie in for England, tended to get the least sleep in the group. If it was possible for him to be up and doing something he would be. It was almost like he considered sleeping to be no more than a waste of time he could spend on something more fun.

The difference this time though was that Bruce really would have preferred if Tony hadn't chosen to leave. To stay in bed with him. For just a little while more. A few more minutes of bliss. But getting food had been more important.

Even waking him up to come to would have been a better alternative, but Bruce stayed silent. He'd gotten to sleep in the same bed as Tony, and he felt selfish for wanting even a little more. But it still stung that Tony seemed to be ignoring it had happened at all.

"Stark, Did you get-"

"Yes Thor, I got pop tarts. Yes everyone else, I got coffee. Now lets eat."

Thor rubbed the back of his hands over his eyes like a giant puppy, and Steve tried fruitlessly to look the other way. Tasha and Clint spotted though, as always. And as always, when Clint tried to mention it, Tash elbowed him in the ribs. A gesture that always made the archer smile.

When Tony had finally gotten everyone into awake sitting positions and got the food round, he did sit next to Bruce on the floor. It still wasn't the same though. It seemed like Bruce was always wanting more from Tony, when what he got was already amazing as far as he could see.

Tony liked him more than anyone. But not in the way Bruce wanted him to. At least, that's what he thought.

Though when Tony leaned over and whispered 'sorry, didn't want to wake you' and rested his leg slightly against Bruce's as the other's talked, he couldn't help but wonder.

xxx

Bruce had always found the potions class to be beautiful yet completely terrifying in equal ways. The towering stacks of books that loamed far over his head made him tingle pleasantly with the sheer volume of knowledge they were able to contain. The power they held with nothing but printed words.

The pungent, often sickly sweet, aroma that filled the air was another endearing quality of the place. It hung heavily over each and every student like a blanket of magic and hexes, containing the scents of at the very least sixty different potions ingredients. It clung to the walls of the room like paint, and though a lot of the students had taken a disliking to it, Bruce and Tony near worshiped it. The smell of magic, intoxicating.

The room was also known to be frightful however, with its ire darkness and dusty style. The tall towering grey walls seemed to close in on you like a steel cage, keeping you trapped and isolated within. It was a very claustrophobic feeling, especially when the huge wooden doors were bolted shut each lesson.

It always had set Bruce a little on edge. He didn't like feeling trapped. It had been a lot worse before he'd had Tony as a partner to distract him, but even now when he was hung over, tired and sat right next to his best friend, he was still a little edgy.

"Hey look, they didn't upgrade greasy Dracula to the Snape 5000, with full defense against the dark arts capabilities," Tony joked, motioning toward Professor Snape who sat cold faced at the front of the class. It was a well-known fact that Snape wanted the defense against the dark arts job but for an unknown reason, he'd never gotten the position.

"I don't know why he'd want the job so badly," Bruce commented pulling out his books and quills. "It's defense against the dark arts. Every lesson would just be us hitting him with spells like a human dart bored."

"Banner," Tony grinned in shock. "You out do my intelligence and know you aim to challenge my wit?" Tony's head tilted slightly; his eyes practically devouring Bruce as they ran across him, though Bruce somehow didn't notice. "Suits you."

"Thanks," Bruce murmured, smiling sheepishly at the compliment and trying not to gain any false hope from it. It was all just fun and games with Tony, right? So he just shifted a little awkwardly in his seat and tried to focus on Snape, though a slight blush could not be hidden.

"Good morning class. I'm expecting an equally disappointing year from you as last, so my hopes aren't very high. Just try not to waste too many of my supplies on your failures," Snape drawled nasally, looking hardly surprised at the noise that followed his words. "Alright, settle down before I start deducting house points."

Tony, who miraculously was near hangover free despite his large alcohol consumption, rolled his eyes. Bruce figured it was a combination of just being used to the alcohol and being full of coffee, that prevented Tony even getting touched by the headache the rest of them had.

Flicking open his work book, Tony tore out a page of worn parchment and dropped it on the table between him and Bruce. Quickly dipping his quill, he labeled the paper 'notes' and wrote down a message.

'Why the hell do all these idiots care so much about house points?' Tony jotted, not so much as glancing towards Bruce as he slid the paper across the well-used desk.

Note passing was a very important skill within this friendship group, something Bruce had learned very early on, and been forced to pick up quickly. Especially in classes with Tony.

See there was a lot more to the delicate art than most ever thought. You couldn't just simply write the notes to each other, because that was easy to spot. Any teacher worth his wand could catch out note passing in any class. So you had to make sure you'd be looking forward as you wrote you replies, or else anyone could see what you were doing. But even then the more astute teachers would even see though this, so not only did you have to write without looking, but you also had to appear to be focusing deeply on the lesson at the same time.

So plastering a faked yet accurate look of total concentration onto his face, Bruce reached for the paper. One glace down and he'd read the message. Dipping his quill he replied, 'don't know, guess they feel like they're doing it as a family sort of thing.'

He'd halfway passed the note back when his attention was taken completely away from the paper conversation that was beginning with Tony. House points and family's left his mind quicker that celeb gossip flickered through muggles minds. His eyes locked fast onto the potion Snape had written up on the bored.

The Violet Sleeping Potion.

A simple enough potion, not to mention being very useful in a lot of situation when done right. Tony and him had made quite a few batches of the stuff over the years because it could knock out a target for at least three hours with no chance of waking. A perfect concoction for knocking out dorm mates in order to sneak out each night, with no lasting side effects.

He knew the ingredients off by heart. Heck, he knew what the spell book said word for word. Which is why Snape's instructions made him frown.

He's listed: violets, cannery feathers, sand, a lot of silver veil nectar and standard earth root. The thing was Bruce knew for a fact that you needed blackthorn earth root or else it was hardly strong enough to make a person drowsy, not exactly a worthy potion for a class of sixth years.

Neither of them listened as Snape droned on about proper potions preparation, as they knew how to make a simple violet sleeping potion from year two, eyes shut. Instead their minds had both drifted to very different places, though their faces did not give it away.

Bruce's mind had made in a thousand miles away with in the minute, and he only just glanced at Tony's response of, 'maybe our family should have a points system then,' before quickly scratching down an urgent question.

'Can you get any blackthorn earth root for tomorrow's potions class?'

Tony looked down at the reply and felt an unseen pang at the lack of interest in his note. He hid it well though as he responded, though his eyes did flicker to Bruce for a second.

'Sorry man, can't this early in the year. My sources are all busy right now.'

Bruce sighed as he read the answer, completely missing Tony basically waiting for him to really notice his earlier note and react correctly. Potions class was boring enough when they weren't doing their own experiments, but without the blackthorn, the product would be useless as well.

They couldn't even ask Snape, seeing as this chose of ingredients was likely strategic. Who wanted teens with heavy sleeping potions running around.

That's when he thought of it. He got a tingling at the base of his spin, and a shiver rocked his shoulders. All the hairs on his oh so hairy back were standing to attention, and his stomach clenched in a not all bad way. The idea felt wrong, and yet he still clung to it. He knew it was stupid but still…

In seconds he'd made up his mind.

'Can't hang tonight. Gonna study.'

'Don't be a drag man, we could study together,' Tony wrote back with increasing annoyance. The note was up the page now. No reason for Bruce to see it. It was really getting on his nerves; he nearly drew arrows around it.

'Na, wanna get a head start on some Divination studies. You don't take it.'

'Yeah, well you can do that crap while I do real magic and see if Jarvis can set you on fire.'

The fact that Bruce didn't respond at all to the last comment told Tony the conversation was over, even if he wasn't happy about it. So sighing at his lost flirt, Tony went to the average comments about Snape's filthy hair.

Bruce hardly even focused on the jokes though. He was too busy trying to remember exactly where in the forbidden forest he'd found the blackthorn last time he'd been in alone.

Xxx

At Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry sneaking out of dorms was supposed to be a near impossible thing. It was told to be one of the safest places on earth, which made that fact part of its reputation. The pupils were safe and well guarded at all times.

Getting into the forest was intended to be completely undoable. It should have been impossible, and most thought it was. No other students had even attempted it. But when you were not only a genius with a knack for hiding from people (which had been drilled into you from a young age), but also had a marauders map, well it was pretty freaking easy really.

Bruce knew his dorm mates certainly weren't going to miss him when he was gone. It was a miracle if they even knew they had someone else in their dorm at all. Bruce was a master of going completely unnoticed, and it had not let him down so far. So Bruce knew he wouldn't be caught sneaking out, or told on.

Twigs and crisp leave crunched beneath Bruce's perfectly shined black shoes as he made his was along the vague and twisty path that lead him deeper into the dark wood. The moons brightest light helping Bruce to see the way, combined with the brighter torchlight. The trees around him were dead and warped into the angry curves and twists they loomed in as he past beneath them, his torch causing them to glisten unpleasantly with cobwebs.

The air felt thick with heavy fog which condensed on Bruce's old crooked glasses more with each step. His vision impaired, but he dare not stop to wipe away the steam. The moist air smelt like rot and decay, of leaves, of excrement, of meat. The rancid aroma stuck in his nose and cased Bruce to gag loudly.

And he loved it.

Not in the way one loved a person, or an object. Not with affection or caring, as those were things that would die quickly in that pit of hell and fear. It was not the love of fairytales, unless you meant the rather dark originals.

It was pure, loath full, guilty pleasure. It was that sick, dirty kind of love. The kind you hid and told no one about because even you knew it should not exist. Not in you. Not in anyone. Not ever. It was love of the rush, of danger.

Bruce Banner had fallen in love with adrenalin, and the forbidden forest was his dealer.

Now he had tried to get off it, that couldn't be denied. He wasn't stupid. The very opposite in fact. He'd tried to stop. An effort which had been unsuccessful for a long time, bordering hopeless. Until Tony Stark dropped into his life and shook the whole world out of focus.

When Tony was around there could be enough adrenalin pumping to power a hunting tiger. It was exhilarating and extreme and generally not life threatening. A fact that might have shocked a lot of people, but being around Tony was almost always safe. Yes he was reckless, self-destructive and mostly a hazard. But he cared about his friends, he wanted to live. He was dangerous, but with just enough hidden precaution to keep him and his friend's safe.

Tony didn't like to see people he cared about getting hurt, weather he'd admit it or not. He didn't like pain at all.

So Tony had become his Nicorette patch. Tony was his way to ease off the drug. With Tony he could be safe, exhilarated and alive all at once.

But pretty soon it had shifted again.

Rather quickly, Tony became the drug, in a whole new way. Bruce's new addiction. Which he had no problem with seeing as Tony was a pretty great and in some ways better alternative, even if he was obsessed with him, it was ok.

He hadn't gone into the forest alone in almost a year. As far as Bruce knew he was cured of his life threatening needs. Until he got tempted.

If only Snape had picked a different potion.

The creeks and groans around him set his senses on alight as he weaved through the trees. The safety of the path now long behind him. His heart ponding in his ears. His eyes darting over the scene for threats.

It was only just a little way further until he reached the location of the root. Ten steps at best. Just past the rotted fallen trunk ahead and he'd have it. Just four more steps. Just a little further.

A crash sounded as he fell to the floor. Twigs snapping beneath him.

Cursing to himself, Bruce rolled over to see the guilty branch which had caught his ankle lying just a few feet behind him. A lone stick jutting out of the ground, looking smug even though it had snapped. Looking pleased and evil at its work.

Damp leave stuck in Bruce's matted hair as he frowned at something not right. The branch had snapped when he fell, but that was fine. Twigs snapped, normal. He'd scuffed his arm and his robe was a little dirty, fine. The dark shadow just a few meters away, not so fine.

Quickly Bruce scrambled along the ground to get behind the fallen log only just ahead, leaves and sticks crashing and cracking as he moved. The noise deafening in his ears.

His breath held, he lay motionless. His body ridged and mind tight as he listen to the monstrous sounds of the forest. Birds and unusual insects shouting around him. The fog swirling like ghosts. But nothing else. Nothing out of the ordinary for the mystical place.

Silence.

He could have imagined the looming shape. That tall hunched figure with sickly long arms. He could feel the adrenaline working within him at supersonic rate. It was completely possible it had caused a vivid hallucination. It was not uncommon for people to see things in the dark, especially in creepy haunted forests. It was probably nothing.

But the long growling snout that frothed and black dead eyes that greeted Bruce as he looked over the log told him otherwise. The sharp white blood stained fangs clamped down hard and fast.

About three centimeters from Bruce's arm.

Instantly his legs were ponding. Left right, left right. Approximate speed 9.7m/h. Average monster speed 40m/h. Injury to its leg, only logical solution for not being dead already. Distance out of forest, one mile. Quantity of good creatures in the forest with the power to fend off a monster per square mile, three. Chance of survival, 7%.

Bruce Banner was intelligent. It was the main factor in his life and always had been. Equations and facts. That is what would keep his mind off dyeing, so that is what Bruce Banner chose to think about in these possible last moments. Because it was a hell of a lot less scary than thinking about anything else.

Current location, five minutes run from the castle. Wolfs distance from Bruce, one point five meters and decreasing, fast. Possible obstacles, none, none, none, weak twisty tree.

His mind fixing on a plan, Bruce ran directly at the tree. His heart was pound in his cheats as he begged for success. Running directly forwards until…

Bruce jumped out of the way not a second before impact, not slowing at all. His feet kept pounding, but he just heard a crash over the fear blocking most of his senses. A millisecond of celebration before facts started to return.

Its recovery time, four seconds. New distance, four meters. Survival chance, 12%.

Four of Bruce's senses were now functionless as he ran, the only things he could focus on being sight and thought. His whole brain narrowed in on the most important things at hand and nothing else.

He couldn't even feel the branches ripping at his skin as he ran. Didn't notice the trails of blood mixing with sweat as they trickled down his arms. He couldn't feel anything.

Current monster distance, five meters. Running left, one minute. Distance, four meters. Time, fifty seconds. Distance two meters. Time, thirty seconds. Distance, one meter. Time, ten seconds. Distance…

Bruce began to limp as he hopped the last two meters into the secret passage entrance and the monster crashed head on into the forcefield.

With a yelp the beast turned and high tailed the other way, not glancing back. Blood dripping from its head as it fled. Bruce could see the injury on its back leg now and thanked anyone watching that it hadn't been at full health.

He was safe. He was alive. His back thumped lightly against the wall as Bruce fell against it laughing with relief. The joyous sounds pushing his chest up and down slowly. His eyes slid shut as he slid down to the floor, all fear draining from him. His senses coming back. One by one.

Sight.

Smell.

Sound.

Pain.

A horrible bone crunching agony was suddenly very noticeable and Bruce gasped as it ripped through his nerve system. It was blinding and stung. It was intense and Bruce's teeth chattered and his body shook as he lost thought again.

His leg was burning violently and a pool of hot red blood pooled beneath him, soaking his shoes and socks. He figured he must have cut it real badly for the level of blood running over his shoe. He needed to get it fixed up soon. Luckily a simple spell should do it.

But as he muttered the incantation and flicked his wand nothing changed. The pain was the same. The blood the same. The fear he felt though; that sky rocketed.

Ripping the trouser away, Bruce stared down in horror at the deep werewolf bite.