A/N: Follow-up chapter to "Magical Me."

"You were a Hufflepuff," Tony crows, eyes alive with untold glee.

"Head Boy, even. We were very proud," Peggy says, turning the page of the photo album in her lap. The photo album with photos that move. "Of course, he got quite a bit of grief over it, being an American. You hadn't managed to iron out that sweet, Boston accent by that point, had you Phillip?"

"No, mum," Phil answers.

Steve tries very hard not to laugh, but a chuckle escapes him all the same. The agent has his arms folded tightly over his chest and seems to be making every effort to disappear into his seat as his face gets progressively redder. Granted, being the private man that he is, having his childhood presented to his friends and co-workers by his mother is likely an uncomfortable situation to be in.

They've been in England the past three days, waiting on Phil's official reinstatement to the wizarding world; apparently bureaucracy moves at the same pace with or without magic. Not that any of them have been complaining. Spending time with Phil and Peggy in the world that they'd grown up in was, for lack of a better word, magical.

Of course, the first day had been awkward and tense, to say the least. Discovering that you're dating the son of your old flame is… awkward. The fact that Phil had kept it from him is something that they'll have to further discuss in private once they've returned to the States, but for now he's coping. Forgiveness comes easily when Peggy points out that Steve had never tried to contact her. They'd all had something to hide but three days of time together had started them on the long path of ironing out the wrinkles in the fabric tying them all together.

"Boston accent?" Tony echoes. "Hey, Phil. Say, 'Park the car in—"

"Mr. Stark, if you ask me to say the phrase 'park the car in Harvard Yard' I will remind you that my threat to tase you until you drool into the carpet has now been upgraded, considering I'm carrying something with a bit more kick to it than a taser," Phil says smoothly.

"You say that like I wouldn't want to be hexed," Tony scoffs. "As soon as we get back, I'm running more tests on you than you could think of. The science of magic, can you even imagine?"

"Tony, what have we said about using colleagues as lab rats?" Bruce asks, his tone patient.

"Interesting, though, that my brother could not see a fellow user of magic," Thor muses. "Earth's magic must differ greatly from our own."

"You have no idea," Tony says with a haughty chuckle.

"Who would have thought you were such a huge Potterhead," Clint says with a massive grin, reaching for another of the pumpkin pasties.

"Did he play Quidditch?" Tony asks Peggy eagerly as Clint looks to Natasha with a roll of his eyes.

"Yes, he was Hufflepuff's Keeper."

"Broke my nose twice—once in second year and again in my fifth. Bludger to the face both times," Phil says, rubbing the bridge of his nose reflectively. "I wasn't particularly gifted in that sport."

Peggy shoots her son a reproachful look and unwittingly Steve finds himself straightening in his seat in time with Phil. Some things never change, he supposes.

"You weren't lacking in talent, it's just that your passion lied elsewhere. He was captain of the swim team," Peggy declares. She hums intently as she turns a few pages. "Here we are. See? Leave it to Phillip to befriend a giant squid."

"He was just shy," Phil says in his defense. "And I spent a lot of time in the lake."

Steve looks to the photo Peggy is pointing out to them, depicting a very young Phil in swim trunks smiling brightly at them and occasionally laughing as he bats away a tentacle tickling him. Steve's never seen him smile quite like he does in the picture and comes to the sudden realization that he really doesn't know anything about Phil's childhood. They've never talked about it. Although now he can see why but that's something they're going to have to correct regardless.

"You were a pretty busy boy, Phil; Prefect, Head Boy, Quidditch, Swim Team," Natasha rattles off, looking amused. "Had something to prove?"

"I was just about the only one in the castle who had posters in his dorm that didn't move," Phil said with a small smile. "I was different. I had to learn how to fit in. Don't let those books fool you; not all bullies can be found in Slytherin House."

"Bullies?" Steve echoes with a frown.

"Calm your star spangled britches," Tony snorts. "Christ, it's like that word's the call to action for you or something."

"People develop childhood heroes for a reason, Steve," Peggy says with a smile, patting his thigh affectionately.

Phil looks like he'd prefer the couch would swallow him whole, so instead he rises, clearing his throat.

"I'm just going to… you know, it's been a while since I've had a proper wand… should get acclimated…" Phil says hurriedly, gesturing towards the door. "…cast some spells… try it out…"

They all watch him beat a hasty retreat. No one stops him as he exits, mumbling to himself about why he's suddenly so intent on getting away from all of them. Peggy just watches her son with fond eyes, waiting until he's left before she looks down to the album in her lap.

"I can see this is going to take quite a bit of getting used to," she says. She looks to Steve. "Well?"

"I agree," Steve says.

"No, no, I mean, aren't you going to get after him?" she presses.

"I… think he wants to be alone," Steve answers.

"I'm pretty sure he wants to be alone," Clint adds in agreement.

"He's sulking," Peggy scoffs. "And you two need to talk. So go."

"I don't think—" Steve begins.

"I wasn't asking, Captain," Peggy says firmly.

"Yes, ma'am," Steve says, all-but bolting out of his seat.

They watch him make a break for the exit to rival Phil's. They hear the door slam before Tony pipes up, a massive grin splitting his face.

"This is fun."

It doesn't take Steve very long to find Phil. The agent has only wandered as far as the courtyard and apparently hadn't just been using practice as an excuse. The soldier hangs back for a moment, watching Phil levitate objects and transform them and conjure other things in their place. He should have guessed his presence hadn't gone undetected, though—he still hasn't mastered the art of sneaking up on his partner.

"Are you just going to stand there or is there something you'd like to say?" Phil asks.

To most people the tone of the question would have been almost bored or uninterested, but to Steve's well-trained ear, the defensive undercurrent is crystal clear. He walks forward slowly, watching Phil continue to practice until he stands directly behind the shorter man.

"I thought we could talk," Steve says.

"You thought, or my mother thought?" Phil questions.

"Well, you know Peggy," Steve says with a shrug.

"Of course I do. She's my mother."

Steve's taken aback by the vehemence of the statement and it seems Phil is too, because he flinches when the leaves he'd been levitating suddenly burst into flames. With a sigh and his shoulders drooping to match, he turns to face Steve but doesn't look especially happy about it.

"I'm sorry, this is all just—"

"Stressful? Awkward? Not how you planned to spend your weekend?" Steve supplies.

"Among other things," Phil replies. He taps his wand in his open palm with a frown. "The three of us have talked, but I think you and I should have a discussion of our own."

"Then let's do that," Steve says.

He takes Phil by the arm and steers him towards the nearby bench before he can utter a word of protest. Reluctantly, the agent takes a seat and waits until Steve is sitting in the spot beside him.

"I'm guessing you have questions you didn't feel comfortable asking until we could be alone," Phil begins.

"A few," Steve admits. "I think it's going to take me some time to get used to some of these things."

"If you want to leave, I would under—"

"That's not what I said," Steve cuts him off with a deep frown. "Phil, listen. Am I surprised? Yes. Am I a little disappointed you've kept so many things from me? A little. But do I want to put a stop to whatever we have between us? Don't be ridiculous."

Phil gives him a look that's mildly apologetic.

"Now, can I ask you a few things?" Steve prods.

"I can't guarantee you'll like the answers," Phil warns him.

"I just want the truth," Steve says with a shrug. "Can you do that?"

Phil hesitates before nodding once. "I can do that."

"Okay," Steve says. He takes a deep breath. "Why didn't you ever tell me about Peggy?"

He can tell immediately that this is something Phil doesn't want to have to say. On top of that, it's something that Phil doesn't want him to have to hear.

"You never called her," Phil says. "It was something painful for you and you were trying to move forward and I tried to understand that. I understood parts of it and I know she probably understood it better than I could. I would have told you, at some point, I think, but I hadn't counted on…"

Phil shakes his head.

"I don't let people get this close to me, if I can help it. But you… I can understand why she…"

Steve's sure he's never heard the agent struggle so much to give him a straight answer. Phil has to take several slow, deep breaths before he can continue and Steve gives him his space. He wants answers, but he knows he's not going to get any if he pushes too hard.

"What I'm trying to say is that I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you. That's the complete opposite of what I was supposed to do. I was supposed to maintain a professional distance and I failed so fantastically in that regard that it isn't even funny. Do you know what an awkward position it is to be in to have to call your mother and ask her what to do because you're falling for the same man she did? She said to let it happen and against my better judgment, I did," Phil says slowly. "I just couldn't figure out how to tell you. I thought of trying to persuade you to call her, like I had before we were together, or just coming out and telling you. I knew I had to at some point, it was just…"

Steve looks to him expectantly.

"I had something I wanted and I was afraid of losing it," Phil says. "I was selfish."

"You thought I'd leave?" Steve asks.

"I'm still not sure you won't," Phil says, laughing weakly. "I'm still not sure you shouldn't."

Steve's quiet for a moment, digesting that. He catches the agent off guard when he delivers a clean punch to his shoulder. Maybe it's a little harder than it should have been because Phil's nearly knocked out of his seat by the force of it.

"Tony was right," Steve says in answer to his shocked expression. "You're an idiot."

"You know I hate those three words."

"What, 'you're an idiot'?"

"No, 'Tony was right.'"

Steve snorts. "Well, let's get one thing straight: I'm not leaving. I can see why you would think I might, but you're still an idiot for thinking it. This is probably one of the stranger things to have happened since I woke up, but it's not all bad. Peggy and I have talked. I loved her once and part of me will always regret that we never got the chance to be anything more than we were, but we've both understand that we need to move on. And if we had gotten that chance? If I hadn't gone down in that plane? There's a large chance that you would've never happened. And we both agreed that's something neither of us would have wanted. We couldn't have each other, but that meant she could have you. And later, so could I. And that's… Phil, we're fine with how things turned out. It's okay. So don't think either of us would prefer a world that doesn't have you in it. We tried that once. It didn't work out so well, if you remember."

Phil doesn't meet his gaze, just stares across the courtyard and rubs his shoulder absently. Steve decides it's better to press on.

"And now, since we're on the subject, if you were able to use magic, why didn't you use it to defend yourself from Loki?" Steve asks.

"I couldn't," Phil says quietly. "I left and I swore not to use magic. The magical community has to be kept separate from the muggle community. That's just how it is. Even if the risk of exposure was minimal at best, I couldn't risk the lives or safety of millions of people just to save myself."

"But you could to save us?"

"That's different," Phil answers impatiently. "Those are six lives which aren't mine. And losing those six lives means risking hundreds or thousands more. People depend on you to fight the battles that they can't, to protect them from the things they can't face. Letting any of you come to harm would be just as damaging."

Steve looks to him questioningly. Phil sighs.

"And I couldn't do it. I was selfish. Again."

"You keep calling it selfish, but I don't think that's quite the right word for it," Steve says. He reaches out and slings an arm around the other man's shoulders, hauling him in. Phil comes along easily enough, letting the soldier steer him into his shoulder. "I told you all of this will take some getting used to, but I will get used to it. The thing is, I need you to talk to me, Phil, or this isn't going to work."

"I can't promise that I always will," Phil says.

"You don't always have to. Just when it counts," Steve informs him. "Like now. You don't have an excuse to keep any of this a secret from me anymore."

Phil's answering silence is unbelievably loud. It stretches on, leading Steve to wonder if he's going to be getting so much as another word out of the other man. After what seems like hours—but is likely only a few tense minutes—Phil shifts in his grasp and pulls away from him.

"I should've called Peggy. I should have… made more of an effort," Steve admits. "You're not the only one at fault here, even if I've made it seem that way."

"You should have called her," Phil says in agreement. He looks down to his wand, held between his hands. "I should have told you about her. She should have told you about me. I should have told you about all of this. We're going to keep talking ourselves in circles at this rate."

"What do you propose?" Steve asks.

"A fresh start," Phil suggests. "We stop focusing on who should have done what and who didn't do what else and instead just look forward. There's no changing it. Mum would like to see more of you... She'd probably like to see more of both of us, now that I think of it."

"Then let's make sure she does," Steve says. "I think that's something that might work for all of us."

He leans over and presses a kiss to the shorter man's cheek. Phil's hand migrates to his thigh and lingers there. They sit quietly for a time, gradually leaning against each other more and more. Eventually, Phil takes up his wand and Steve listens intently as the agent explains each spell he casts. But really, it's his hands that captivate Steve the most. Even the laziest flick of his wrist is a graceful, practiced movement. However long Phil's been away from magic, Steve can't say, but based on the way the agent's using it now you wouldn't think it had been any time at all.

"How badly do you think my reputation has suffered since we've been out here?" Phil asks him suddenly, looking up at him with a serious face.

"Based on what we saw so far in that photo album?" Steve says, looking thoughtful. "You might want to give it some time before you go back in."

Phil grumbles as he rises from his seat, tucking his wand back into his suit jacket. There's still a shadow of uncertainty hanging over him, Steve can see. He knows this is hard on Phil in ways that he can't truly understand, so he knows he needs to be patient and he's fairly certain he can manage it. It's a bit strange, finding that someone as confident as Phil has these uncertainties tucked away where no one can see them. He doesn't plan on overlooking how readily the agent seemed to accept the idea that Steve was leaving him; like he was softening a blow he'd been preparing himself for all along. He'd said himself that he was afraid of losing something he'd wanted. Somehow, all these different insecurities Steve is gradually learning about are tied together, and that's something they're going to have to work on.

"I meant what I said," Steve says, rising after him. "So don't think that magic or embarrassing childhood photos are going to be enough to scare me away. You're not the only one who's capable of being selfish, you know. Because as far as I'm concerned, you're not getting out of this that easy. You're stuck with me."

"Like bowtruckles on doxy eggs, huh?" Phil asks, shaking his head with a smile.

"Like... what?" Steve asks vacantly.

Phil opens his mouth to explain, thinks better of it and shuts it promptly.

"I'll explain some other time," Phil says. He looks around the courtyard before declaring, "Well, after all of this I think I need a drink and there's a pub a few blocks from here that I used to love."

"You're going to ditch?" Steve says with a laugh.

"I think they'll understand if we need some air," Phil says.

The agent pauses, a thoughtful look passing over his features. He looks up at Steve, his eyes soft and his smile playful as he holds his hands out to the soldier.

"Do you want to see a magic trick?"

Natasha leans against the side of the old, brick building as she watches the agent and the soldier talk. It's clear there's more to be said, but for the moment they seem content to let whatever matters they'd been discussing lie. So when Phil holds his hands out and Steve takes them and they quite suddenly disappear, she doesn't feel any need to go track them down.

She could, magic be damned, but for now they're fine on their own.

(Not to mention she's not about to stop Peggy from giving her a goldmine of blackmail material.)