Chapter Seven: In Which Ideas for Titles Run Out
The number of empty cells was beginning to get ridiculous.
Skirting past a guard who was thankfully looking the other way, Harry continued his frantic search for his friend.
Luckily, it didn't take long.
Thwack! The pair ran straight into each other, careening off to opposite walls. After regaining his bearings, Harry realized that Draco's nose was bleeding from the crash, reminding him of sixth year when Harry himself was on the ground, bleeding and abandoned.
The black-haired wizard stepped forward instinctively, wiping the trickle away, causing the other to wince.
"Gahh, stop," Malfoy gasped, hand covering nose. "We don't have time. Do you know where the exit is?"
That, of course, is when Harry realized that he'd forgotten to keep track of where he'd come from. This did not go down well with the blond.
"You went back for me without remembering the exit?!" Malfoy exclaimed, bloody hand coming up to massage his forehead. "I'm flattered, Potter, but that was so utterly Gryffindor of you." He sighed, looking past an embarrassed Harry, towards a split in the hallways.
"At least we know the exit's that way." Draco tried to look for a bright side, which wasn't exactly his expertise, so instead of wasting time, he took off, hoping Harry would follow. He did.
Reaching the doors without incident was time-consuming, and Malfoy was trailing small droplets of blood behind him, which was an inconvenience when some guards found a part of their route.
Eventually, they lost the sentinels, reaching the doors, and finding the elevator.
The terrible music didn't help.
Sticking to the corner, Malfoy commanded, "When we get out of this, we are moving to Antarctica. Am I understood?"
Harry responded with a weak, "Yes, Professor." Fortunately, Draco didn't have the time to respond, for the elevator doors slid open, and the two made a break for the lobby, uncaring of the people, cameras, or blood.
~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~
Tony didn't even want to search for them.
"Come on, we'll just let the rookies deal with it. They've done nothing but damage their own property. Let SHIELD clean up its own messes for once."
"That's not the point," Bruce interjected form his spot. "They're still out there, able to do anything. What if they have weapons? We need to bring them in before they harm somebody."
"Who says they will?" Tony countered. When all he received were dubious looks, he elaborated.
"Just… think about it for a second. These people must be important, right? The little kid had those weird face-changing powers, and the other two definitely could have done something to prevent capture. Why would they go so willingly if they could escape easily… unless…"
"Speaking of crazy people who have capture-fetishes, where's Loki?" Bruce asked suddenly.
"Yeah," Steve chimed in. "Where is everybody?"
Right on cue, the thunder god bounded into the room, followed by an exasperated trickster. Unfortunately, the agents were nowhere to be found.
"I told you," Loki was saying, "I didn't do it…" He trailed off, scanning the room. "Where are Barton and Romanoff?"
"We don't know," Steve said, standing, "but that can wait. The prisoners have escaped. Stark, where were they last?"
"Somewhere around... there." Tony pointed to clarify. "Wait," he remarked, double-checking the screen. "The system's going haywire when I get too close." He tapped the screen. "Not cool. My systems never fail. I made them.
"JARVIS," he whined, staring up at the ceiling. "Fix it."
After a beat, JARVIS replied, "The interfering energy seems to be similar to that of Mr. Laufeyson's scepter."
Loki scowled at the inventor, who shrugged sheepishly. "You need to learn to pick up your stuff," was his only explanation. After a slightly awkward silence, the grumpy demigod hadn't broken his gaze, and Tony sighed.
"Look," he explained, "I don't have the Glow-stick of Destiny anymore, okay? Go talk to Director Eye Patch about it; he's the one who keeps confiscating my toys."
Loki huffed in annoyance, appearing to drop the matter. Soon, he left with the excuse of "getting away from the sheer idiocy of this building", as he put it, but as he did, Tony's hair exploded into a patriotic red-white-and-blue mess. Not even his goatee was spared.
~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~
As he left the tower, Loki teleported over to Malfoy Residence, for of course that was where the two wizards were taking shelter.
Watching Harry fruitlessly try to fix Draco's nose with wandless magic, Loki waved a hand, snapping it back in place himself, and causing Harry to grin triumphantly. Malfoy was immediately alarmed, for he knew the other hadn't cast the spell, and leapt to his feet, swearing under his breath.
"What is it?" Harry asked in bewilderment. "I didn't hurt you, did—"
"That spell," Draco yelped, scanning the room for signs of an intruder. "That wasn't you." He ran smack into the living room table and cursed again, wincing. "I knew we shouldn't have gone here."
Harry didn't get it. "Wha—oh…" Finally catching on, he reached for his non-existent wand and began to search the house. As the front door left their sights, it silently opened and closed, as though an invisible someone had just left.
Harry was halfway upstairs when he heard ayelp. Scrambling back down the stairs, he met Draco in the kitchen, where the blond was by the fireplace, scrutinizing a small piece of paper.
Moving behind him, Harry read the note over his shoulder: You two numbskulls are in the most obvious spot on the planet. Find a place to lay low that's better than in the middle of a bare field riding a white-flag-brandishing bilgesnipe.
Despite the harsh tone, Draco smiled a bit. "I'll give you three guesses as to who this is from."
Without thinking, Harry blurted, "Your godfather."
Surprised laughter bubbled up from Malfoy's chest. Genuine laughter from the man was uncommon those days. Harry chuckled along, wishing he could bottle the sound and keep it with him.
"Try again, Potter, and this time, try someone who's still in the realm of the living," the blond advised, shaking his head.
Harry thought for a second. "And to think, we have proved that this particular species of brooding demigod actually has a soul."
"Debatable," Draco said approvingly. "I think your pathetic doe eyes just melted his frosty heart." "Shut up, Ferret." "No chance, Scarhead. Can I be the best man at your wedding?" "No. You'll be the maid of honor." "So you're the bride, then. You look good in white."
The two both stopped talking abruptly, leaving an awkward silence in their wake.
"Right…" the two said at the same time, pausing, and then trying again.
"We should pack your stuff—" "We should leave—"
Harry pressed his argument. "Dr—Malfoy, this is your stuff. Let's get it together and then leave. You have wards on this place; we have time. Besides," he coaxed, looking the other up and down, "knowing you, you'll panic when you realize how incredibly Muggle your clothing is."
Draco inspected himself, coming to the same conclusion. "All right, but just a few hours," he grumbled, tension falling away from his shoulders. "Don't place too much faith in the security measures; you might recall the Weasley-Delacour wedding."
Harry grimaced at the memory, heading back upstairs. "I call first shower!" he hollered, hoping the water would wash away the grab-bag subject of weddings. The other simply sighed, shaking his head at Harry's lightheartedness, but couldn't help the small grin on his face. How very Gryffindor.
Escaping the piercing gaze of the blond, Harry decided to explore like he once did at Grimmauld Place. Draco won't mind, he thought, slightly guilty. All of the doors were a blank, dull black with tarnished knobs. Harry wondered how Draco could remember what was in each room.
Finally giving in to temptation, he chose a door at random, and twisted the knob. With a little click, the door swung open.
~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~
The star-spangled billionaire was met with a snort of laughter from Thor, small chuckling from Steve, and even a flash of a smile from Bruce. "What?" he asked ignorantly, looking around. His gaze locked on the only other person in the room, and the most likely suspect.
Loki looked back at him innocently, tilting his head slightly. It was an intentional dead giveaway. Tony just sighed, vowing silently to get back at him later for whatever he'd done.
Suddenly, a crash could be heard from the air vent above, and it gave way, allowing Clint to unceremoniously tumble from the opening. Natasha dropped gracefully after him, dusting him off with a maternal exasperation. Awkward silence ensued, and though the pair didn't seem to care about their abrupt appearance, the others needed a moment to process it.
"So, Friend Stark," Thor asked, breaking the silence, "any luck with your tracking system device?"
"Zip, zero, and nada," Tony replied, running fingers through his unkempt patriotic. "I just don't get it." (He thought he heard something like a sarcastic "My god, he's been stumped!" from Clint's direction.) "It would just be easier to give it up altogether."
"So that's what we'll do," Steve piped up, and immediately was overcome by the sea of comments and questions. Managing to stay afloat, he yelled, "HEY!"
They settled down, but rather reluctantly, as was evidenced by the frowns each teammate wore.
"Do you honestly think they're going to pull anything?" he asked softly. "They haven't done anything to resist until now and probably aren't even dangerous people."
His eyes glazed over slightly. "All we have to do is say that we couldn't find them, or found them dead, and let them go."
Clint scoffed. "You're blinded by your sense of trust. The government arrested them, SHIELD wants them for some reason or other, and—"
"I agree with the Captain!" Thor boomed over the archer, followed by a similar response form Loki. If anybody thought the abrupt support was suspicious, they didn't mention it.
"All right, we'll settle this the traditional way," Tony announced. "All those in favor of being honorable and going after the escapees?"
Natasha and Clint raised their hands.
"All those in favor of lying to Eye Patch and letting them be free to pay for their own ice cream?"
Steve, Thor, Loki, and Tony himself raised their hands. (It was rare to find something that the brothers or Steve and Tony agreed upon.) Bruce didn't vote, but his opinion wouldn't have mattered anyways.
"Majority rules!" Tony chirped triumphantly. He rubbed his hands together. "So, now that the boring stuff's out of the way, the lab's calling my name. Bruce?"
"Well, as much as I'd like to join you, you might want to check a mirror first."
A minute later, frantic screaming broke out on Tony's floor, and the others fell into peals of laughter. Loki just grinned to himself, an old light flickering in his eyes.
~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~
Draco's room was much smaller than Harry had imagined.
It was organized to the point of which the intruder wanted to mess things up a little, and rather dim. The walls were a soft, slippery gray, and the carpet an emerald green. The bed followed the color scheme. Draco's closet was still full, as were his drawers, and by the bed stood a matching nightstand and lamp.
As Harry lit said lamp, the room was illuminated in a soft, candlelit glow. It suddenly looked more homey rather than rigid. He stood still, inhaling the scent that lingered on the pillow, and wafted from the drawers.
He imagined the young man leaning on the headboard in the dead of night, devouring a novel from the small bookshelf near the window by the light of the lamp beside him, or perhaps sketching the Hogwarts castle, and basking in the warmth of the afternoon. He saw Draco pacing, almost wearing a hole in the floorboards, and writing a letter in the sharp, slightly slanted writing Harry admired when he got the chance to see it, which wasn't often.
He whirled around as the door opened, and Draco froze in the doorway.
"What are you doing in here?" the blond asked slowly, edging into the bedroom.
"Err—nothing… wrong room," Harry stammered, brushing past his former enemy and out into the hallway, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Malfoy was left staring into his own room. Potter obviously hadn't stumbled into the wrong room, judging by his reaction upon being caught.
It was odd to see the Gryffindor in such a Slytherin space, like it would be to see him in the Common Room, or—Merlin forbid—Draco's dorm in Hogwarts. The blond stood in the threshold for another second, freezing time to that one image of Harry lost in thought, then dismissed it, giving himself a mental shake.
Stop, he reprimanded, that was a long time ago. He doesn't like blokes… right?
He didn't say that when you teased him about marrying Loki, a traitorous voice retorted inside his mind. He didn't deny it.
He went out with that Cho Chang.
And you saw how well that endeavor went.
What about the Weaselette?
What about her? Didn't she dump him too?
He proposed to her. He likes girls; that's all there is to it. Get yourself together, Draco, and move on. Stop acting like a lovesick schoolgirl.
Yet, all Draco could think about was that fateful moment when they'd met in the park, only a few days ago. It felt like ages, what with all of the kidnapping and running that had been going on.
The wizard moved to sit on his bed to ponder, unintentionally mimicking the young man that plagued his thoughts.
Questions swirled around him: Why? Why was Harry in his room in the first place? When? When had this feeling he'd had so long ago resurfaced? Where? Where were they supposed to hide?
He decided to focus on the latter query. Draco knew a nice place in France where he used to visit on holiday, but that was out for two reasons: France was too close and likely if the Ministry decided to go hunting, and Harry couldn't speak French. That was bound to be a situation.
After several minutes of consideration, he narrowed down his choices: Muggle Britain (if the theory of 'hiding in plain sight' was to be believed), Australia, or—like he'd said before—Antarctica.
This last option was out of the question, but it would make an amusing joke, if he ever found the time for such.
"DRACO!"
His heart stopped. The voice was one of full-blown panic, and Harry Potter was never scared. He was a bloody Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. If something was frightening him badly enough to call him by his first name, well, Draco had better come running.
~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~
"It is done, Master."
A man straightened from his kneeling position, avoiding the burning eyes of the man sitting before them.
A purple hand drummed its fingers against the golden arm of a magnificent throne. There was no light source, but somehow the seat of power held a sinister gleam. A voice rasped from everywhere and nowhere.
"Find the boy. Bring him to me."
The man glanced up nervously, before averting his eyes hastily, letting out a squeak of submission.
"Y- yes, Master Thanos. I will not fail you."
His voice quavered feebly under Thanos' echoing sound: "No, you will not fail me. You know what happens to those who fail me, do you not? You have seen them, yes? Their fate?" The voice scoffed. "Their… punishment?"
Thanos paused, relishing the word like a child savoring a lollipop. He could just taste the defeat, the submission that was rolling in waves off this mortal. He reveled in it, felt the will leaching from the man's mind, pooling at his feet.
"They have already escaped from mortals much smarter than you, several times. They will not slip from your fingers again, will they?"
The kneeling mortal quivered. "No, Master Thanos." He kept his head low as he made to exit from the chamber.
"…Did I dismiss you?" The voice was uncharacteristically quiet, but sharp as the terror that plunged its way into the mortal's heart.
Instantly, he whirled around, sinking to the floor. "N- no, Master Thanos. I apologize. I will not do so again."
"… Good. Now leave me. Your incessant stuttering irritates me to no end.
"Mortals," he muttered as the man left, traumatized and shaky. "So pathetic. So weak… yet the boy—both of them, maybe—could be an asset."
Ah, yes, he thought, letting his gaze lose focus in favor of beautiful, destructive imagery, what with the boy so close to Lady Death, and the other so fueled by hatred, by anger.
They will make the perfect gifts for Hela when the time is right.
~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~
As he burst into the bathroom, Draco was met with a queer sight.
Poor Harry was huddled on top of the sink, clad in nothing but a towel, and aiming a bottle of shampoo at a black object in the shower.
Normally, Draco would have been rather flustered by the other's appearance, but now wasn't the time, so he reached for his wand—
—and remembered he didn't have one, grabbing his shoe instead. He raised it threateningly, ready to hurl it at the imminent danger.
It was a spider.
Draco couldn't help it; he cracked up, nearly falling over. Relief flooded him, and he couldn't suppress his— well, he guessed he could call them giggles, even though he would deny it to this day.
Harry pouted, but remained on the sink all the same as Draco levitated the offending arachnid. He opened a window, and let it out. It landed safely in a sparse patch of grass, scuttling off to frighten its next victim.
"I thought it was Weasley who was afraid of spiders," Draco remarked after regaining his composure.
Harry shook his head slightly, eyeing the window, just in case. "Ever since second year, I've never been able to see them in the same way."
Half of Draco wanted to ask exactly what had happened in second year, but he refrained when he abruptly came to terms with Harry's noticeable lack of clothing.
Suddenly very self-aware, he backed out of the room hastily. "I- I'll leave you to it, then."
He retreated, catching a "Thanks!" tossed carelessly out of the door. It was soon replaced by the rush of water. Draco continued to his room, shaking his head in embarrassment.
What am I going to do with him?
*heh heh, fun time-skip thingy*
Draco was rather proud of his house, and was a little sad to leave, but simply took one last look around the place. Harry just grabbed all he could, and
When the pair was finally ready to go, Draco called Harry down to the kitchen.
"Have you got everything?" "Yes, Mum. Merlin, you sound like Molly."
The blond refrained from retorting, instead tossing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace. Just as he was about to step into the roaring flames, the front door opened.
Fearing the worst, the pair slipped into the fire just as a kindly voice called, "Draco, darling, is that you?"
~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~
The next few months were eerily uneventful, if one could count being either on the run from both wizarding and muggle law enforcement or being Earth's mightiest heroes uneventful.
Harry and Draco stuck to isolated towns, disguising themselves as best they could, and doing their best to avoid people in general. It reminded Harry of his year on the run just before the Battle of Hogwarts.
Draco disliked the conditions in which they were living, but definitely preferred it to whatever sentence he would've been likely to get in Azkaban. Even the thought of sharing the same fate as Lucius made him shudder.
The nightmares didn't help, but they were to be expected. It wasn't as though the two wizards were eager to confront their pasts, especially not with each other. Harry didn't even know where he stood with the Slytherin; he liked to think that they were friends, but then instantly wondered whether it was all in his head, as Draco was the only person he really interacted with nowadays.
The Avengers were much better off, but now constantly on guard for an attack. It was too calm around the Tower, and while most would use the time to relax, it didn't stop Loki from taking the opportunity to make each consecutive team member jump as he silently entered a room.
Tony hardly seemed affected, and kept to his workshop, only slipping out once in a blue moon to snatch some junk food or sit on the roof ledge. The only time anybody visited him was when JARVIS considered his time in there a health hazard. The team always seemed to volunteer the captain to tuck him into bed, but Steve had no idea why. As far as he was concerned, they weren't all that best of pals. The pair continued to bicker so often that they were most likely to be found looking stormy and refusing to so much as glance in the other's direction.
Clint and Natasha had disappeared for a week. Nobody had actually known where they went, but it had been highly suspected that they were running a mission in Romania. When the agents reappeared, they answered no questions, and the team slowly collapsed back into anxious boredom.
After another month passed, the brothers left for Asgard for some complication in Loki's sentence. The rest were stuck in the Tower with absolutely nothing to do.
Steve was using this time to catch up to all of this new modern slang and media. It most certainly didn't help that Tony was constantly manufacturing all sorts of wacky devices to further his otherwise general laziness.
Bruce was taking an online course to get into medical school so that he could be of help on the sidelines when the Hulk wasn't needed. To be perfectly honest, it also meant that he would stop hearing, "Are you even a real doctor?" simply because he wasn't trained in the medical sciences.
Natasha was training some new recruits back at SHIELD H.Q., and Clint had disappeared. Most speculated that he was hiding in the vents from his formidable partner, and none blamed him, especially when she was found cross-legged atop the refrigerator one tired morning, sharpening one of her knives nonchalantly.
All in all, everybody had settled into a state of monotony that was rarely seen around people like them, and an uneasy feeling was creeping over them.
They were right to think that way.
The Mad Titan had awoken, and his wrath would shake the Nine Realms to their cores.
~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~PaMF~
So… guess who's not dead… *ducks behind rock as fireballs are hurled at me*
You guys have no idea how absolutely sorry I am, and I'm writing a make-up chapter for When In Doubt to try to repent for my grievances.
Seriously, I'm a soulless monster. Speaking of, I was late to the fandom, but UNDERTALE. If you are also late to the fandom, I recommend playing the video game for yourself or, if you're broke, watching somebody play it because it is FABULOUS.
For the love of Thor and all things Loki, I haven't updated since January. JANUARY.
Well, here it is, and I hope you can forgive me enough to stop throwing fireballs.
Your humble author,
BoukieToo
