Chapter 4:

POV TONY:

Tony awoke feeling odd, as if he was missing something. Well for one thing, there was no girl. It was an off night if he didn't bring a bird home. But usually, he had to employ the help of Happy to fabricate a story so he could cut ties with no muss and fuss- normally along the lines of an 'emergency business meeting'. Sometimes, he would just slip out of the suite, and rely upon the maid to compel his visitor to leave. This time, however, these theatrics were not necessary as the girl he brought up to the room was nowhere in sight.

Yet, in place of the relief he expected to feel was… disappointment. The sensation was completely foreign to him, because Tony Stark usually got what he wanted, effortlessly. Perhaps that was what it was? Perhaps because he didn't end up sleeping with the girl he felt unfulfilled? Her name was Harriet, a sneaky voice needled in his mind. Maybe she had a bigger affect on you than you anticipated. Maybe you shouldn't have been such a girl and talk about your feelings.

That insufferable voice in his head did have a point. Tony Stark never talked about his feelings. As far as anybody was concerned, Tony Stark did not have feelings, apart from the selfish concern to live it up, squander his cash, bed the ladies, and have a good time. This was the persona that Tony effectively constructed for the public eye. At a young age, Tony had been the target of merciless bullying, not to mention under immense pressure by his father to act decorously.

After one particularly rough day, Tony's father was called upon to retrieve a bruised and bloodied Tony from school. But instead of receiving sympathy from his father, he was rebuked. As he put it, Howard was always under the public eye, and it would not do for his son to misbehave. As a response, Tony Stark, arrogant playboy, and heir to Stark industries was born. Over time, the sensitive, bullied Tony who wanted recognition, or even a hug from his father was pushed to the side to make room for the new and improved Tony. Wearing the mask became comfortable, and he soon found that life was infinitely more enjoyable that way. The way he saw it, the bullies were nonexistent, and he wasn't bound to ever earn his father's respect anyway.

Never having much luck in emotional women, when Harriet began to cry, he just wanted to defuse the situation. He just didn't anticipate confiding in her, and seeking comfort in her in return. He did not want to begin thinking that doing so caused him to grow attached to her this soon.

He shook his head to banish these unfamiliar ideas that were reaching a dangerous territory. After a coffee she will be yesterday's news, he thought to himself. Deciding to find Happy and have a cappuccino in a café, he pushed the covers aside and stretched.

Once outside, he spotted Happy with the limousine. Smiling, he approached him.

"Happy, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

"Yes, I made sure to look extra pretty for you this morning," Happy said with a poker-face.

Laughing, Tony got into his offered seat.

"Oh, Mr. Stark, speaking of pretty, I found a flask under one of the seats. I did not recognize it, so I assumed it belonged to last night's girl. I'm pretty sure I'm correct, so if you'd like me to dispose of-"

"No, that's alright Happy. I'll take care of it." These words slipped out without a thought. Ignoring the strange look Happy gave him, he reached over and gently plucked the flask from his hand. Putting it in his jacket pocket, he announced the destination and leaned back in his seat, lost in thought.

Having ordered a cappuccino, Tony Stark sat alone at a table outside. His meeting was to start in thirty minutes, but he couldn't care less. For some odd reason, his mind kept reeling back to last night. It was infuriating. Why couldn't he have just slept with her and get it over with? He hadn't been this distracted in a long time. This is what happens when you toe the line, Tony. He reasoned to the irritating voice in his head that because he merely tested the waters with her, he was still hooked. Concluding that being alone with his thoughts was too annoying at the moment, he decided to head to the meeting.

When he ambled his way upstairs of Burke's industry to where the meeting was supposed to occur, he was stopped by a young, upstart secretary.

"Uh, sir? There's a meeting in progress, if you would like-"

"I'm Tony Stark." Smirking at the double take, he made his entrance.

At the slightly shocked looks at the men and women seated around the table, Tony flung his hands up in the air.

"A guy shows up a couple minutes late to a meeting and is treated as if he kicked a litter of puppies!"

A rather attractive woman with a tight bun looked at him amusedly. "Mr. Stark, given your… reputation, we're just surprised you didn't arrive later."

"Is that so?"

"Welcome, Mr. Stark! We hope this is the beginning of a burgeoning relationship between our allied countries' militaries. Please, have a seat!" Tony glanced slightly at rotund man with a red face and sat at his proffered seat in a bored fashion. It wouldn't do to appear too eager.

Half listening to the discussion, Tony leaned back in his chair further, letting the words drone over him. Remembering the flask in his jacket pocket, he fished it out, and began twirling it between his fingers.

His brows furrowed slightly when he noticed words engraved on the center. In script wrote the words 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'. A hesitant smile appeared on his face. Surely a flask with this personal touch would be sorely missed? It wouldn't do to keep it, after all. Resigning himself to some research when he got back, he missed the fat man's attempts at his attention.

"Uh, Mr. Stark? Wouldn't you say?"

Not really sure what he 'would say', he decided he had a fifty-fifty shot at appearing natural, and decided to simply say what the man wanted to hear.

"Absolutely! I agree wholeheartedly with… that!"

"Excellent! So we should expect the negotiations to begin within a week?"

"I wouldn't dream of having you wait." He ignored the soft snort of Rhodey beside him.

Not really sure what he was agreeing to, he supposed they had reach some understanding, given the distinct lack of crabby looks on those working for Stark Industries.

After the meeting, he found Happy at the entrance of the building.

"Back to the hotel Mr. Stark?"

"Uh… I believe I would like to make a couple detours first… Do you happen to have a yellow pages on you? I am in need of a dentist."

Though she regretted worrying Hermione, she could not honestly say that she regretted her night with Tony. Actually, thinking back on last night, it was rather pleasant. Though it began with Harriet being just another of Tony Stark's conquests, and Tony being a dysfunctional method of coping for Harriet, the night dissolved into something she had never experienced before. Maybe it was as a result of her rotten childhood, but Harriet was never one to talk about her feelings. Hermione and Ron would sometimes tease her when she would get into her 'brooding moods', but she didn't really know how to change. She knew that speaking to either of them would be safe, but cringed thinking about exposing herself to their judgement, friends or no.

Harriet couldn't say for certain, but she also had the feeling that Tony told her things that no one else was privy to. She wondered what circumstances had arisen to allow both her and Tony's walls to temporarily crumble, only for the two of them.

Thinking of the intimacy of this event made her smile as she distractedly chewed on her peppermint flavored sugar quill with one of Hermione's books propped open in front of her. Reflecting on her night with Tony was far more amusing than reading the dull passages for her assignment on various healing potions. Granted, the topic was made easier by the mere fact that Harriet practically lived in the hospital wing at Hogwarts and had learned to recognize all the draughts and salves she was exposed to. Make a small note on her parchment about the uses of moonstone in both the draught of peace and in the wound-cleaning potion, she looked up at Hermione who lounged across from her in a loveseat with a tome of Ancient Runes propped up in her lap.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"What's the difference between the wound-cleaning potion, and essence of dittany? They seem like they do the same thing."

"Essence of dittany has far more magical properties and requires no further use of a wand, whereas the wound-cleaning potion does not close the wound as effectively." Hermione recited.

"Then why do we even have the latter?"

"Well, it depends if the wound is caused by magical means, or not. Dittany is good for magical wounds, but may not fight infections from an exposed cut."

"Oh, I see. So when Madam Pomfrey gave me wound-cleaning potion after the hungarian horntail cut me…"

"Right, there was a potential of the wound being infected, so healing it that way was optimal."

"And if I splinched myself-"

"Then, yes, you would have required Dittany."

Silence enveloped between the two again, with only the sound of Hermione's quill rapidly scratching against some parchment. Knowing that she was just trying to avoid work, Harriet decided to make conversation that Hermione wouldn't resist.

"Hey, Hermione?" The quill stopped.

"Yes?"

"You know my hickies?" Hermione made an amused sound at the back of her throat.

"They're difficult not to notice…"

"Well, last night-" Harriet's confession was interrupted by three staccato raps at the front door.

"Oh, hold that thought Harriet. That must be Mrs. Parker with the flour. And don't think you're off the hook just yet!" Hermione got up swiftly and walked down the hall and out of sight.

Deciding to return to her reading, Harriet stared at the illustration depicting the ideal shade of purple for the wound-cleaning potion.

"Erm… Harriet?" Hermione was back in the sitting room with a mixed look of amused confusion on her face. "Would you happen to have received your love bites from an American with a limousine last night? Namely, someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to Tony Stark?"

At Harriet's frozen look of disbelief, Hermione smirked.

"How did you-"

"He's here now. Said something about returning a flask, of all things to you. Honestly, Harriet. I thought you knew better." But her smile betrayed her stern tone.

"I expect details Harriet. Now, go!" Hermione, practically vibrating with the urge to ask more questions pushed Harriet out of her seat and then gestured to the hallway leading to the front door.

Feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks, Harriet slowly walked towards the door and wrenched it open.

Leaning lackadaisically on one of the walls that framed the front of the Granger's home was Tony Stark. Arms crossed confidently, he was wearing a leather jacket with a Black Sabbath t-shirt underneath, and a wide grin that practically oozed satisfaction. In one of his hands lay her flask which he promptly shook towards her face.

"Forgetting something?" He asked. Back was Tony Stark from the club. Harriet wondered if he actually meant her flask, or something more.

"Oh." Without the aid of alcohol, Harriet did not feel the courage that seemed to fuel her actions the night before.

"It was in the limo. Happy found it under one of the seats. Aren't you happy?" he snorted at his own lame joke and handed it to her. Bemused, she took it from him. She had no idea what to say, or do for that matter. So she settled for the burning question in her mind.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Well, that was easy actually. You told me."

"I most certainly did not-"

"Well, without meaning to, you did. You mentioned last night that you lived with your friend Hermione, and the Grangers, her parents who are dentists. It was not too hard to find a dentistry practice with two Grangers. Speaking of, do you think they can fit me in for a cavity? Last night was just so sweet-"

"Oh my god, stop!" Harriet started laughing, mortified. "Okay, so I wasn't careful enough. Noted."

"So fish and chips?" Tony quirked an eyebrow.

"Huh?" Harriet blinked stupidly at the non-sequitur.

"You. me. Fish and chips? I've been told that I haven't seen England until I've tried it."

"Uh, sure. I guess."

"Okay, you can get dressed, and I will be waiting out here in your oh so cheerful weather." He gestured at the gray and gloomy skies.

"Oh. I'm sorry, come in. Wait...Dressed?" Tony smirked and suddenly, Harriet realized she was wearing a spaghetti strapped top and pajama shorts that exposed far too much skin.

"Not that I'm complaining, sweetness" he added, raking his eyes admiringly over her form and pausing over her cleavage.

"I will be down shortly!" Harriet, embarrassed, scurried towards the stairs, hearing Tony's laughter behind her.

Waiting in her room was Hermione. She seemed to have already picked an outfit out for Harriet, which lay on top of her bed. It was cute, but casual. Sending Hermione a grateful look, she began to dress.

"Do you happen to know how old he is?"

"Older?" Harriet knew he was well into his 20's but figured some ambiguity never hurt anyone.

"Older." Harriet could tell Hermione did not approve, but was restraining herself. "Well, just be careful. I'll be waiting up!" She pulled Harriet into a firm hug and released her.

When she came downstairs, she found Tony inspecting some photographs displayed on the mantelpiece. Behind him on the sofa lay the book Hermione lent her, "Magical Maladies & Medicine" by Trinity Berker. Deciding she'd rather not answer any uncomfortable questions, she grabbed a throw pillow on a sofa, and placed it neatly on top. Then, straightening her skirt, she cleared her throat to get his attention. He whirled around and gave her a mischievous grin.

"So, Just Harriet, ready to take London by storm?" He presented his hand out to her. Rolling her eyes, she placed her mokeskin around her neck and accepted his hand. Though she tried to act blasé, a thrill of pleasure washed over her as he laced his fingers through hers effortlessly. The vision of Tony Stark holding her hand in Hermione Granger's house was incredibly bizarre to her. It was almost as if two worlds that seemed distinctly separated suddenly melded together.

Happy was waiting outside Hermione's house with the familiar black stretch limousine from the night before.

"Actually, Tony?"

"Yes, sweetness?" His pet name was said in a cheeky manner, but was still embarrassing.

"Stop saying that, Tony… pony!" In the attempts to make an equally gag-worthy name, she only caused him to abruptly laugh.

Amidst his laughter she heard him gasp "Pony? Who told you that was a good idea? Of all the world of rhyme schemes, you went with pony?"

Knowing that her face must be visibly red at this point, she mumbled, "I panicked… see if you can come up with a better one!"

"Okay, okay. What were you saying?"

"Well, I know a place not too far that has a mean fish and chips. We could give Happy a break and walk there. It is a bit of a dive though. On second thought-"

"Excellent! Happy, go get yourself a drink!"

"Mr. Stark, I am still on duty…"

"Then do whatever it is drivers do when they are not driving!" Though this statement came across as grossly arrogant and disrespectful to Harriet, Happy's reaction seemed… amused.

"Of course, Mr. Stark." If she hadn't been watching Tony closely, she would've missed his wink in Happy's direction as the chauffeur went to the driver's seat, and closed the door behind him.

"Lead the way, sweetness!" Muffling her groan, she pulled Tony towards their destination.

Walking side by side with Tony in London was a strange feeling. She didn't even think she'd see him again, let alone accompany him on a… whatever this was. Could she call it a date? They made small talk that should've been awkward, but their easy banter made Harriet feel as if she knew him for years. Instead, it had not even been twenty four hours since their last encounter. She was enjoying herself, but was practical, and knew Tony's type. Smiling fondly, she remembered the cringe-worthy conversation that Sirius had with her about boys and their life long missions to steal her virtue.

"Harry, I see you rolling your eyes, but I can personally attest to that fact! I was one of them! I still am!"

"Okay, okay Sirius, I get it. Some boys are rotten."

"No, you don't. What I'm trying to say is that all boys are rotten. Some are just rotten apples, whereas others like me are rotten…"

"Shits?" Harriet said cheekily.

"Shits! So you do get it." Sirius smiled infectiously. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into his embrace.

"So how did I do? I know I'm rubbish. As far as first god-fatherly talks go…"

"Snuffles, I was captivated throughout."

Laughing uproariously, Sirius turned towards her and kissed her tenderly on the top of her head.

Their moment amongst the somber atmosphere of Grimmauld Place was cozy and warm. A peace enveloped the two.

Sirius broke the silence.

"Speaking of shits… I really must-"

"Ew! Sirius!" She punched him on the arm as he laughed and got up.

"Doody calls, Harry!" He winked at her and meandered down the hall.

Harriet with a small smile looked over at Tony. She wondered if Sirius would have tried to convince her that Tony belonged in the rotten shit category. Amused by the image of them meeting, she beckoned him to cross the street in the direction of the restaurant.

Harriet and Tony sat across from each other, each with a laminated menu from The Golden Stag. Harriet had original discovered the place while walking on her own, and immediately went in because of its name. Though it had initially reminded Harriet of her father and her patronus, she was instantly besotted with the atmosphere. Fish and chips was not the only thing served, but it was their specialty. Hiding behind her menu, she snuck a peek at Tony. He was staring intently at his own, brows furrowed in a way that she found oddly attractive. Only a small quirk of a smile preambled his next action.

"Tony Macaroni!"

Harriet, startled, began to laugh on reflex.

"What are you on about now?"

"You asked me to come up with a better name… better than Tony Pony. Well this place inspired me, and I have. Toni Macaroni is miles better than Tony Pony."

"Well, Tony, if you ask me it sounds equally ridiculous," she scoffed.

"You may only refer to me as Tony Macaroni."

"Honestly Tony, you are bloody barmy." He only looked at her in return and raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?" No response. She got up abruptly with a smirk. "Well, Tony Macaroni, I will be in the loo."

Tony heard her mutter darkly to herself as she made her way to the bathroom. He had half a mind to follow her in. Though he was intrigued by this girl, he also was attracted to her, and he had never spent long interested in a woman before she was in his bed. Well, technically I did take her to bed but we skipped a few steps… maneuvers along the way. He laughed softly along with the depraved voice in his head.

There was also the rare occurrence where he actually liked a fellow human being and intimately understood her in ways he was not prepared to understand. As a result, he felt far more comfortable believing that the sole purpose of taking her out yet again was to finally have sex with her. Being attached to someone was a foreign sensation and that made him nervous. Yes, it was much better to look at her from a more objective, sexual standpoint. That, he was familiar with. Tony was still browsing the menu when Harriet returned to her seat. He watched her as she absentmindedly chewed on her bottom lip and tap her foot rhythmically as she looked over her menu. Damn, she's adorable.

"You know, I think I'm good with just fish and chips. You've gotten me in the mood." She looked up at Tony, but paused slightly at his intense stare. How long have I been staring at her?

"Tony?" He tilted his head at her. "Are you still carrying on with the whole Tony Macaroni shite? You've exhausted it-"

He stopped her by leaning over the table and swiftly planting his lips on hers. She immediately moved in tandem. She tasted sweet. Like peppermint. He had just deepened the kiss when he heard someone clearing their throat above them.

"You lovebirds ready to order, yeah?" The waitress was chewing gum with a bored look. Harriet was first to recover.

"Erm-yes. We will have the fish and chips. If that's alright with you?" He nodded at her, but was deep in thought. The peppermint taste still coated his mouth. Why had the kiss felt like more than a kiss? What the hell. He was just acting on impulse, but it felt familiar, warm, and nice. A voice needled in his mind. Maybe because this isn't an overture to sex, Stark. Wait, it isn't? Choosing to end his mental dialogue, he looked over at Harriet. Her eyes were vacantly wandering around the small eatery and she wore a small smile. Small talk it is.

"So, Harriet. I never actually learned your last name. Just Harriet has overstayed its welcome."

"Hm, I suppose I haven't." She looked oddly hesitant.

"Drumroll please. Harriet…" He quirked a smile at her while tapping his utensils on the table.

"Potter. Harriet Lily Potter. That's my name, Tony Macaroni."

"Harriet Lily Potter. That's nice. It suits you."

Looking down slightly, "Lily was my mum's name."

"It's beautiful," he supplied. She smiled in response.

"My godfather had told me that my parents 'had a feeling' I would be a boy. So they picked out Harry for a name. On the off chance that I would be a girl, my mum insisted on a flower name. Lily was her's. Petunia is my aunt's," her nose scrunched up cutely in distaste. "But apparently by the time I was born, they were so used to Harry, that anything but felt… wrong. A couple heated arguments later, and they settled on Harriet. Only thing they could agree upon."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you are not called Petunia."

"Yeah, I always thought she was nasty because she wished she was named… something pretty like Lily. There are many other flower names that are far less unfortunate. I wasn't far off the truth. Poor Petunia."

They continued on this vein as their food arrived. The fish and chips were wrapped neatly in newspaper, the grease already staining. Grabbing the ketchup, Tony continued the conversation.

"Your friend, Hermione. Now that's a strange name." Tony said. He bit into a chip. He immediately enjoyed the semi-greasy meal.

"Yeah, I think her parents are fans of Greek Mythology." She shrugged while chewing.

"She also looks very young. How old is she?" Tony questioned lightly.

Harriet took some time to answer, still chewing. She looked a bit nervous.

"Erm. Hermione's sixteen. So how do you like your food?" She changed the topic.

Ignoring this, Tony asked, "Sixteen, eh? That's quite young. How did you meet?"

"School."

"So she goes to college with you? She must be a prodigy. I suppose I'm not too alone there." He smirked arrogantly.

"Well… she is the smartest in our year," Harriet ventured.

"Sixteen and top of your class?" Tony whistled appreciatively. "So where do you go to college?"

"The uh… Hog… university?"

Tony laughed in response. "I never heard of it. You study pigs there?"

"Yeah…haha." Harriet looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Bemused, Tony frowned and continued his interrogation, picking up another piece of fish.

"Okay… So how old are you?" Tony was just making small talk, but was not prepared for Harriet to look as if she was in pain. He watched a series of emotions flash across her face. It seemed that she settled for grim determination.

"Oh bugger it! Tony, I'm sixteen."

It was not the words, but the resolute look on Harriet's face that made Tony inhale the fish through his trachea. Through streaming eyes, he noticed that apart from slight concern, her visage held the same honesty as before. His heart was racing furiously, unsure if it was a result of his choking fit, or her bombshell. Finally, when he dislodged it from his throat, his eyes bugged dramatically, and he got up from his chair.

"You're joking." He knew she wasn't, but did not have any idea how to respond.

She got up after him. "It's not so bad. Sixteen is the age of consent in Britain. I'm basically an adult."

He began to back up from her, heading towards the door. He laughed coldly. "Yeah, you're an adult, and I'm Lolita."

Despite the crazy situation, he saw her smirk. "Well, unless you fancy yourself an adolescent girl, I would be Lolita in this scenario."

"You're not helping!" They were now outside the restaurant, ignoring the hollers of the waitress behind them. Tony muttered to himself in a panic. Even in the cool weather, he felt a hot flush creep up his neck. Sixteen. Fuck. Sixteen. Like a mantra, those words reeled through his head. "I almost… fuck… sixteen…" Through his mumbles, he settled for a sentence- "You're a child. I can't believe this."

"If I'm a child, then you're a toddler, the way you act," Harriet said hotly.

"Of course you would say that. I'm a deviant. I'm a pedophile. A social deviant."

"Stop that. You didn't even know. I definitely don't view myself as a child anyhow. I've been through too much," she finished bitterly.

Though her words made sense in a way, his panicked state couldn't keep up. He knew he had a connection with this girl the night before. He felt it. That didn't feel so wrong. What felt wrong was everything else that happened that night.

"No. This is. No. I can't believe this went as far as it had. I can't -with a child. Shit, you're sixteen. I can't."

The waitress had finally caught up with them, panting.

"Oi, you can't leave without paying!"

Harriet seemed to have produced money at of thin air. She shoved a generous amount towards the waitress.

"So sorry," she spat acerbically, eyes still on Tony. "Don't mind me. I'm just a child. Rotten shit." She tore her glance from him, rolled her eyes, and angrily stomped away.

Tony wanted to chase after her, yet instead watched her walk away. He turned the opposite direction, but not before admiring the way her legs sauntered away. Disgusted with himself he buried his head in his hands and groaned.

A.N.

Hello all! Thanks again for all the PMs and reviews! I really am grateful to all of you guys helping me to stay motivated and write all this out. I hope you liked this chapter. It is a lot longer than the other previous chapter, and that does not mean that my next one will be of similar length. I only end a chapter where I feel it appropriate, but let me know of your thoughts!