A/N: Hey! I'm back! This chapter kind of explains some of Hermione's background. To answer some questions: She is not a witch in this crossover, she does, however, have friends from the Harry Potter world (who are also non-magical for meshing reasons). She is sort of OC, but only because I didn't want to include magic. Her Hermione-ish tendencies will show themselves throughout the story, though! She is still as in-your-face as ever :) Enjoy and Review!
(Post A/N: Pepper is gonna show soon :DDD (I shall leave with that, haha))
(I don't own anything, blah-de-blah)
Hermione Granger
Hermione sat on the edge of her bed eyeing her new dress in the mirror across the room. She had wanted something a little revealing, but not too crazy. She didn't want it to be too formal, either. She had spent nearly four hours crawling through department stores and boutiques before she found it in a window of little shop that was nearly closed. She rushed in and asked for it in her size before the sales clerk finished counting the money in the register.
The dress was definitely eye catching and completely perfect; Hermione still couldn't believe her luck. The shimmery material felt like silk and flowed like honey across her body when she moved. The hem fell just above her knees and twirled when she turned sharply, making light bounce off the blue sparkles flecked in the black cloth. The tight quarter sleeves balanced everything. Hermione didn't know much about fashion, but she was sure this was the pinnacle of Thanksgiving dinner dresses, and that she would rock it.
She stood and watched herself walk back to the wardrobe, observing the way the hem flowed out behind her, making it look like she was gliding. She undressed and hung the dress back in its bag so any stray kitty hair wouldn't find its way to it and crept into bed. She pulled the sheet to her chin and closed her eyes and waited for the images to come like they always did at night.
Nearly a year had passed since everything in her small world had imploded in on itself. Hermione was a private investigator for the state of Alabama. She had started out as a curious news journalist but quickly realized her talent for finding out things people didn't want her to know. The majority of information she exposed wasn't the kind of things newspapers wanted, but the local police were more than happy to take the names of people she knew were selling illegal weapons or working prostitution rings. Hermione gave the Dadeville Police Department several dozen "anonymous" tips in the first year.
After months and months of friends telling her she could make it a living, Hermione found all the right people to make it legal to tail people and find out all their dirty secrets and get paid for it. She worked for years in Dadeville and Montgomery before state officials started requesting her for larger cases. She had her hands in murder cases, political cases, and other such cases, and she loved it. She was naturally probing and inquisitive and could talk people into spilling everything they knew without seeming suspicious.
It did not matter, though. None of it mattered anymore. Hermione wasn't even sure she could go back to investigative work again. She had finished her last case and she was going to move on. That was why she had found her way to California, after all. The halting end to her 8 year career ended with her best friend dead and she couldn't sleuth her back to life. Hermione clenched her fists as the thought of Ginny's body sent shudders through her.
Hermione had been working on a particularly difficult drug lord for several months, intent on figuring out how he moved his immense product from continent to continent. She had all the names and enough proof to put the despicable man behind bars for life, but without knowing the route and ways, the process would continue, just with a different boss. Hermione regretted not turning in her evidence sooner, she regretted not getting the suspect apprehended sooner, not saving Ginny's life. Hermione had seen the dark side of investigating; she had experienced the pain firsthand and couldn't bring herself to face it head on. She hadn't even helped find the killer. The man that killed her did not hide his trail well and was caught quickly, but Hermione still wished she had been there when he was sentenced. She would have found some revenge in seeing the life drain from his expression.
Not even that could help, though. Each night as she closed her eyes, Hermione saw the blank stare, the bullet wound in her temple, the blood running in rivulets across the tile. All these images and more flew through her restless mind as she tried to sleep. Sometimes she slept without any trouble, but most of the time she dreamt of trying to prevent Ginny's death, only to wake up in a cold sweat with the sound of a gun ringing in her ears.
Hermione recounted the day's events and focused on the dinner date the following evening. She thought of how his house would look, what foods they would eat, anything to distract her mind. She eventually drifted into a rare peaceful sleep with Crookshanks curled up on her chest.
Tony Stark
The next morning flew by quickly. Simon took care of the window and set up a day to work on his lab. JARVIS had a ham and turkey delivered to the house; side dishes and pumpkin pie was also delivered from a local grocery service. Tony set the table, rearranging the seasonal fruit a hundred times until he was satisfied with it. It was only noon when he put on his suit and sat at the head of the dinner table.
"What do you think, JARVIS? Everything looks pretty good, huh?" He moved to prop his feet up on the table and stopped halfway there, thinking better of it.
The AI quickly agreed. "Yes, sir. The colors you chose look wonderful on the table. Miss Granger is sure to love it."
Tony smiled. Hermione would love it. He hadn't realized how pressured he felt to make her like the dinner until now. How did this girl get under his skin so easily? And after only one encounter, too. He shook his head and stood. "Set up a smooth playlist; I don't want anything too fast or too slow. And keep it fairly quiet. Something instrumental." He strode from the room and to his lab. He would set up programs to run on his new suit while he waited for seven to come.
Hermione Granger
Crookshanks sat on Hermione's chest and bat at her nose. It was an hour past dawn and he was hungry.
Hermione groaned and swiped at her face, trying to get rid of whatever was touching it. She started to roll over with Crookshanks on her chest. The burly cat hissed and dug his claws into her skin before jumping off the bed, leaving a very awake and pained Hermione yelping. She lifted her tee and hissed through her teeth as she ran a finger over the tears just under her collar bone. They began to trickle blood, staining her fair skin. "Crookshanks!" She pulled her shirt back down and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stretched and made her way to the bathroom.
After brushing her teeth and using the toilet, she opened a can of cat food. "Crookshanks, your breakfast!" She dumped the pungent mush in his bowl and tossed the empty tin. An angry rumble announced her hungry state. It was nearly 7:30 and Hermione hadn't had anything to eat since lunch the day before. Her stomach protested again as she held an arm wrapped around her middle. The room had several call-in menus, but few would bring her food this early, especially on a holiday.
Hermione quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, stopping for a moment to dab at the drying blood on her chest, and grabbed her phone from the bedside table. She pulled up a map of the neighborhood and found a Waffle House just a few blocks over. An elevator ride down and a quick walk in the warm morning air left her in a greasy booth with a pile of waffles before her. She thought as she chewed, trying to prepare herself for going to Tony's house.
She would play it cool; she would discreetly check it out, maybe ask him about his lab and hint that she wanted to see it. Hermione closed her eyes and imagined all the great technology he would have hidden down there. If she hadn't been so good at sleuthing, Hermione would have gone to college to be an engineer. She loved building things and tinkering with them. Everything that Tony Stark did was everything she loved most.
Hermione finished her plate and ordered a side of bacon to go for Crookshanks. Not that the heathen deserves it, she thought to herself. By the time she walked back to her hotel room, it was nearly nine, leaving almost ten hours to kill before she needed to start readying herself for the night.
After giving Crookshanks his bacon, Hermione settled in her bed and found a Lifetime movie to occupy her time for a while. She let her mind go numb and invested herself in the mundane events happening to the movie characters. She watched three movies back-to-back, getting up a few times to grab some food or figure out what Crookshanks wanted. As the fourth movie began, she glanced up at the digital clock on the bedside table. 4:43. She grinned and jumped out of bed.
